Page 25 of Of Song and Scepter
Lord Ruven’s comment echoes in my mind:it’s all just a pageantry.
How anticlimactic this day has been. To go from courting the hopping, carefree princess I thought I met on the beach to this stoic, careful alternative; it’s enough to sour my appetite.
Disappointment sits heavy and bitter on the back of my tongue, and I swallow it down with the last of my boyish hopes. I shouldn’t be surprised. I entertained for far too long the hope of loving my wife. A guppy’s fantasy. This is a business arrangement. Nothing more.
Aris’s hand is cold to the touch, stiff and impersonal, as if she’s already become the statue in the hallway of our future. I guide her to her seat at the table, pull out the chair for her, and she glides into her place.
Chapter fifteen
Enna
My master is anexcellent actress. In the hour prior, she drilled herself in endless pacing practice, forcing her new body to respond to her commands.
The royals take to her well enough; they ogle her with smug admiration and a hint of surprise as the fake-Aris parades with the prince across the room to her chair. But Odissa is tired. After hours of practicing, she won’t be able to hold her body that tight for long. As she slides into her seat, her ankle catches clumsily on the leg of the chair. Her hands shake as she bunches her skirts and twists them to cover her feet. She adjusts her chest piece, ensuring the metal covers the scar between her ribs.
The prince takes the seat across from Odissa, while the queen assumes her position at the head of the table. A slim, tall merman moves to stand behind the prince, hands folded neatly.I stand behind the princess’s chair, ready to assist should she need me.
Servants whisk into the room, carrying golden platters brimming with fresh fruits, reedgrass, breads, and fish. The savory scent wafts through the air, thick and inviting, and my stomach grumbles. The queen lifts her fork, and the three of them begin their meal.
“I hope your journey was pleasant, Your Highness,” the queen says.
“Oh, yes,” Odissa replies, her voice extra thick with sweetness. “I’ve never been out of the Abyss, so the fleetwhales were a lovely surprise. What gentle creatures.”
The prince nods, taking a bite of fish. Juice from the flesh slips through his lips, trickling down his chin. He wipes his face with a napkin.
My stomach gurgles again, and I calculate when I ate my last meal. Two sleeps ago? Before the attack on the princess? I stare at the back of Odissa’s head, focusing intently on the silver curls of her hair, the intricate weaving of shell and pearl—anything to take my mind off the discomfort in my stomach. I flex my toes against the floor to keep from wavering on my feet.
Odissa reaches for a bowl of steaming liquid. Chunks of cooked fish float inside, mixed with flecks of greenery. She captures a piece of meat on her spoon, lifts it to her mouth, and hisses quietly, dropping her spoon with a clatter. Droplets of broth stain the tablecloth around the discarded spoon. All heads swivel toward her, and a deep shade of pink crawls up the back of her neck, tinting the tips of her ears.
I tense, scanning the room in a quick assessment for danger. My spines lift from their sheaths, pressing against the insides of Clio’s leather gloves. The queen pauses with her fork half-lifted to her mouth. She stares at Odissa with surprise.
Soren smiles, his eyes warm with concern. He reaches to twist the spoon upright and slides it back across the table toward Odissa.
“Apologies,” Odissa whispers. The practiced steadiness of her voice cracks, letting in a hint of her Vespyr gravel. “I wasn’t expecting the heat.” Odissa must have sensed it, too because she coughs quietly, and then takes a long sip of water.
The queen smirks. “You must not have soup in your court.”
“Oh, we have soup, Your Majesty,” Odissa says. “It’s just cold.” She sets the bowl aside.
That’s news to me. In the short time I spent in my father’s house in Dredgemaw, before I became a killer, not once did we eat this dish she calls soup.
The prince grunts, and Odissa’s head lifts at the sound. He dips his spoon into his own bowl of soup, then raises it to his lips. Slowly, he blows, rippling the liquid with his breath before taking the spoon into his mouth. He swallows without pain.
Carefully, Odissa copies him, blowing on the soup before trying another bite. When she swallows easily, the prince smiles.
“Good, isn’t it?” he says.
“Yes, Your Highness. It’s much better warm.”
Thank the goddess for the prince. I relax, letting my spines fall flat into my skin once more.
“Soren, darling,” the queen says, “have you extended your invitation yet?”
“I’m sure you’re exhausted from your trip,” he says. “I expect you’ll need a day or so to recover. But when you’re ready, I’d love to give you a tour of the kingdom.”
“That sounds lovely, Your Highness. Thank you,” Odissa says. “I am feeling rested enough. I wonder if you might show me the sunrise tomorrow. I saw the sun today for the first time, but I hear the morning colors are a delight to see.”
“That’s the first item on our itinerary.” He smiles at Odissa, studying her face. Then, so fast I could have imagined it, his gaze slips up to me then back again.
