Page 20 of Unkindness of Crimson Ravens
Looking towards the ceiling, I gasped. A luxurious mosaic depicted several Gods—some I saw for the first time. Some were holding glasses of wine and I couldn't help myself but to wonder if it was indeed wine.
The whole room was glorious and I couldn’t even begin to imagine what the rest of the castle was like.
I faced Francis who had been staring at me this whole time. He smiled, clearly feeling proud as though he’d made all of this art himself.
I shouldn’t like this place, even if it was truly a work of art.
Evidently, Francis saw my inner battle as he winked at me. Winked! Moon, help me.
“Can we go eat?” The annoyance in his tone was unmistakable. “Now that you have appreciated my house for long enough.” Francis rolled his eyes.
How dared he act like I was a burden on him? I’d never asked for any of this. If anything I was the one who had the right to be mad. I shook my head, my hands turned to fists.
We walked across the room, swaying around dancing pairs. I tried my best to stay invisible, though it didn’t seem to matter: everyone here was too busy with their partners, not bothered by my presence. Not being used to that, I was unsure what my expectations were. I’d never liked big crowds, but at least at home, I’d been taught exactly how to act in one’s presence.
Engaging conversations and laughter occupied the room—something I had not been expecting to hear. At home the balls were solely about alliances, even when the occasion had been someone’s birthday, or marriage. There had never been any fun at such events, the fun that Sandra had craved so much.
By the time we had made our way across Francis had already found himself a drink. He passed me an identical glass, freezing me in place.
“‘Tis wine, Princess.” Francis laughed at me. “Drink.”
A princess should keep her head clear.Mother’s voice exclaimed in my mind as my hands stretched out towards the glass. Maybe being drunk wasn’t the worst idea given the circumstances.
My eyes didn’t leave the drink, studying it as though it was poison. A sigh escaped my lips before I finished the wine—it was indeed wine—in one gulp.
Francis’ eyebrows shot up, he stared at me like he'd never seen me before. Francis passed me another glass which Ifinished in mere seconds as well. In pure surprise he was finally silent. Studying me, as though I’d grown horns in the past minute.
“Cordelia!” Florence called from behind me. “I'm so glad you decided to join!” she exclaimed as she hugged me.
Decided? I wasn’t aware I had a choice, but before I could say anything her hands wrapped around me excitedly. She hugged me tight, as if we’d known each other for a while. My hands barely touched her back in an attempt to return the gesture, yet my mind just wished for all of this to be over.
For the next few hours I sat in the corner, pouring myself wine, watching people dance. I watched Florence in Roxanne’s embrace as they danced beautifully through the hall. I hadn't seen Roxanne since that secret meeting in my garden, but her bright copper hair was unforgettable.
Occasionally Florence laughed at something Roxanne said.
In the garden Roxanne seemed very cold minded and mean, perhaps I’d been wrong. Or perhaps she was indeed mean to anyone but Florence.
I looked away when they started kissing. In the Royal court kissing so publicly would be considered rude, but here no one seemed to mind such gestures.
My eyes traveled through the hall until they landed on a couple in the corner. A woman in a dark green dress sat atop a man's lap. His lips were on her neck, kissing it ruthlessly.
My brows furrowed in disgust, though I could not seem to move my eyes away from the pair. A low moan escaped the woman's lips when the man’s hand brushed along her cheek.
These people knew no manners. I poured myself another glass of wine.
“If you are trying to get drunk, this won’t work,” a voice behind me whispered. I jolted in surprise, meeting the eyes ofthe man who pointed his finger at my cup. “Sorry! Didn’t mean to startle you,” the man smiled at me.
His hair was bright ginger like the fire itself, and he wore green attire with gold ornaments on it.
“Simon.” He extended his hand in greeting.
“Cordelia.” I mumbled, ignoring the man's hand.
Perhaps my dismissive tone would make the man leave. Though, Simon seemed to have different plans as he moved a chair next to me, taking a seat.
“You should try moonshine, wine will not get you drunk,” Simon said.
I poured myself another glass, ignoring the man altogether.
