Page 41 of Detonation
Now, it’ll be even harder. Now, he wears the face of the man that I love but I can’t be so weak now.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
I come back to the present, plastering a sugar sweet smile on my face. Time to weave a web of lies.Let the battle begin.
I glance up at him beneath my long lashes, going for demure. "I was thinking about how much I regret turning your proposal down. We've lost so much time together."
Confusion clouds his face for a second before he masks it. "You're right. But let's not dwell on that now. Let's go enjoy a meal together."
He holds his hand out to me and I suppress the trembling of my own as I reach to grab it. He tucks my hand into the crook of his arm and deposits our glasses onto the entry table on our way out.
Think of it as touching Ash. This is Ash’s body, not Anshar's. Anshar doesn’t look like this.
We make our way through the halls and I try to memorize the layout, unsure of how often I'll be allowed out of my room. I don't buy his nice guy act. There's no way he's suddenly a gentleman.
As we approach where I remember the dining hall being, my brows furrow faintly at the silence.
No conversation.
No laughter.
No clatter of plates or silverware.
As we round the corner, I take in the hall, completely empty other than the waitstaff, who stand stiffly near the long table that’s been prepared for a feast. Enough to feed twenty people and plenty of jugs on the table, most likely holding wine.
They stocked for a large gathering but why are we the only ones here?
I voice my thoughts aloud to Anshar but he stays quiet, guiding me to a black stool at the table. I tuck my long skirts underneath myself as much as I can, trying to sit comfortably. A member of the waitstaff rushes over to fill our wine glasses, a rich crimson filling the cups, making me wonder if it's blood we're drinking.
Unsure of how to proceed in conversation, I stay quiet as our first course is served to us: a vegetable soup laden with spices. Hunger pangs hit my stomach as the first spoonful of the soup hits my tongue.
Twenty-four hours without food have passed quickly because I spent many of those hours scared and trying to formulate a plan.
As the first course is cleared and a salad is brought out next, I dare to ask, "What's going to happen to the rest of this food? It will go to waste."
He looks at me, chewing on his first bite of the salad, a calculating look in his eyes. "Did you want others to be here? I thought you wanted to catch up on lost time together."
Motherfucker.
"I simply hate to see the food go to waste when there are so many without."
Safe answer.
He reaches out to grab my hand, running his thumb over the back of my hand. "You're too kind, my beloved. We must harden you. It's a cruel world out there and only the strongest survive."
A scream rings in the hallway and all of my senses go on high alert. I knew it had been too easy so far. He’s played too nice.
Two guards drag in a frail body and I instantly recognize her as the elderly woman that chided Serafina in the dungeon.
No.
No.
What is he going to do?
I grip the knife to the side of my plate subconsciously and Anshar tuts at me, uncurling my fist so the knife drops to the table with a clang. "Don't ruin the good thing we have going between us, Oslana."
The guards drag her to sit at the opposite end of the table from us, the other head of it, directly opposite Anshar. She sobs hysterically as the guards each keep a hand on her shoulder, holding her in place.
