Page 54 of Rise of the Gods: Vardor's Destiny
She had spent more time on her face and hair than she had since we met, and for a moment, I enjoyed the illusion she was doing it to please me. To look beautifulforme. But then a sour line momentarily flattened her lips at the sight of Cassandra. It was a quirk I had seen Vaelora do a hundred times when someone displeased her, and I realized Roweena hadn't dressed up for me. She was in competition with the other mortal.
Ramrod straight, with impeccable posture, she sat beside me. None of the other guests would have guessed how tense she was, but I knew her better, and I feared for the delicate stem of the wineglass her fingers absentmindedly played with. Her gaze was almost haughty, a mask she wore to hide her true feelings of insecurity.
It surprised me. Vaelora had never been insecure. It made me wonder what happened to Roweena to make her feel this way. To make her feel inferior. I swore that whoever had done this to her would pay. Didn't she know that she was the most beautiful woman here?
The eyes of every man in the room kept returning to her, but she didn't seem to notice. The resentment I felt for the people who had done this to my proud goddess was thankfully stronger than the urge to rip these men's eyes out for daring to take her in.
From across the table, Cassandra Fenton's gaze was directed straight at me. I felt it before I saw it, that slow, measured sweep of hungry admiration, her lips curved in appreciation as she looked me over as though I were a prize to be won. I knew that look. A long time ago, it would have flattered me, especially coming from a beautiful woman like her. I might have even entertained the thought of sharing a tent with her, but not since Vaelora. No woman, no matter how willing or beautiful, had enticed or even tempted me since. There was only one woman for me.
"Mr. Lancelot," she purred, "I wondered if you would grace us with your presence tonight."
I inclined my head, keeping my tone deliberately cool. "It seems the captain would not have it any other way."
Her painted lips curved. "And what a delightful addition you make."
I was so in tune with Roweena sitting next to me that I felt her tenseness increase.
The first course was brought out and interrupted any further conversation Cassandra might have wanted to have. A creamy soup infused with herbs and hints of saffron, rich and fragrant, was placed in front of us. Cassandra dipped her spoon into hers delicately before tilting her head toward me.
"A man of your stature and presence, Mr. Lancelot—I find it difficult to believe you're merely a trader."
Her voice dripped with a teasing challenge, her eyes flickered between my shoulders and my hands, which dwarfed the silverware. I smiled, deliberately reaching for Roweena's hand, lifting it to my lips, and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "I assure you, my only conquest of late has been my wife's heart."
Roweena's fingers tightened slightly in mine before she withdrew her hand. Envy moved over Cassandra's features, her lips flattening slightly.
"So young to be married," she mused, swirling the red wine in her glass. "And yet, I suppose love burns quickly and fades just as fast."
I smiled, ignoring her insinuations and open offer. "Ours burns endlessly, I fear. I could not imagine a single day without my Roweena."
Roweena coughed discreetly as if some of the soup had gotten stuck in her throat.
Cassandra laughed lightly, though the sound didn't reach her eyes. "You are quite the romantic, Mr. Lancelot."
I turned my gaze fully to her now, studying her. There was a cunning sharpness to her beauty, and she knew how to wield it as a weapon.
All around us, small conversations were held between the guests. The captain's loud laughter barely registered with me as I stole a glance at Roweena, whose face was still an unreadable mask. What was going on in that head of hers? With Vaelora, I would have known; she wouldn't have hesitated for a momentto put Cassandra into her place. A few sharp words would have made her crawl away in shame. But Roweena? I couldn't figure out what she was thinking. She was perfectly poised, reminding me of a cobra ready to strike. The only question was whether her bite was truly venomous or if she was merely a serpent that hissed without fangs. Was Vaelora there somewhere inside of her? Or was it merely my own desperation, my need to see my goddess in everything?
"I do so adore men who live passionately," Cassandra continued in a honeyed voice. "One can always tell when a man has truly... experienced life."
Roweena's jaw clenched. How much longer should I let this go on? It was clear as day that Cassandra was flirting with me. But I couldn't tell if Roweena's tenseness was born from jealousy or indignation. By the ancients, I hoped it was jealousy. I couldn't deny the satisfaction that curled in my chest, the awareness that she did not like another woman looking at me with hunger. Did I dare hope?
But it also concerned me. I did not want her to be hurt. Physically or emotionally. I waited, sensing the tension building, watching Roweena's fingers tighten slightly around the silverware. Would she hold her tongue?
No, I didn't think she would. I waited, giving her the opportunity to speak first—and when she did, it was marvelous.
Roweena set down her wine glass with a deliberate, controlled motion, fixing Cassandra with a sweet but razor-sharp smile.
"Mrs. Fenton," she began, tilting her head just slightly, as if speaking to a child in need of patience, "I do admire your persistence. It must take remarkable resilience to throw yourself at a man who has made his affections so abundantly clear elsewhere."
Cassandra let out a light, airy laugh, swirling the wine in her glass. "Persistence? My dear, I simply enjoy good company when I find it. Not all of us are content with playing it safe."
Roweena arched a brow. "Oh, I quite understand." She took a slow sip of wine, then set the glass down. "But I do wonder—when you spend so much time chasing after things that aren't yours, does it ever get exhausting... coming in second place?"
Silence crashed over the table as the other guests noticed the sudden tenseness around us. Cassandra's lips parted, but no words came out—not at first. Her fingers tightened around her glass as her posture turned rigid. Fascinated, I watched the word duel.
Cassandra recovered, but not well enough. Her smile was brittle, her next words edged with venom. "Some women enjoy a challenge, Mrs. Lancelot. After all, passion is fleeting. And men, well... men are creatures of habit."
Roweena didn't even blink, and her reply followed quickly, "But not when they're already perfectly... satisfied."
