Page 73 of The Last Slayer
“Lord Ramiel awaits the splendor of your presence,” Weston said.
The splendor of my presence? That was laying it on a little thick. “How about Lady Nahemah?”
There was a flash of small Tyrannosaur teeth. Was he trying to intimidate me? If so, he’d have to do better than that. As if he’d read my mind, he stretched his mouth further, displaying even more jagged pearly whites. In a flash of horror and amusement, I realized that he was trying for an ingratiating smile.
“Mistress will arrive soon. I apologize for the delay.” He hovered at shoulder level and escorted me to the seats reserved for the guests of honor. Ramiel waited on one, reclining on his side. Unlike the high-backed chairs in Besade, these seats were azure méridiennes, trimmed in silver. A matched lilith and samael pair sat on the floor by each one, ready to serve.
I tried to catch Ramiel’s eye, to get some clue as to what he was thinking. Our time together must have touched him on some level. But he was eating grapes with mechanical efficiency and didn’t bother to look up.
Men.
In the center of the room stood a low table with a white marble top. The Lunar Garden’s crest—a six-headed silver dragon with spread wings sitting atop a full moon—floated in the air over each seat. Gleaming platters with gold trim held exotic food, most of which I’d never seen before, much less tasted. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to try some of the dishes. I’m generally an extra-spicy General Tso’s chicken with Coke kind of girl.
While we waited for Nahemah, Weston used the opportunity to enlighten me—in excruciating detail—on the culinary delights of the Lunar Garden. Ramiel spent the time brooding and refusing to meet my eye, so there was no rescue from that quarter. If he had been a mortal man, I would’ve imagined he was upset at having to wait for a tardy woman. But what’s time to an immortal? He was probably pissed off about having to eat with Nahemah, whom he clearly didn’t like. Or maybe he felt confused about what had happened between us and didn’t know what to talk about. Still, he could’ve at least complimented me on my appearance. I knew I looked good.
I resisted an urge to sigh and gave my attention to Weston. It was better than watching Ramiel sulk.
Weston explained that only the freshest ingredients, ones that passed his own personal and exacting inspection, could be used for cooking in the Lunar Garden. Furthermore, because of the special characteristics of Nahemah’s dragonhold—no sunlight, ever—the local foliage was exceptionally tender and flavorful and not to be found anywhere else in the world. Even a powerful dragonlord such as Nathanael would have to beg if he wanted to taste it. Weston giggled as he said this—an oddly feminine sound. So he was delusional in addition to being a sycophant. I couldn’t imagine Nathanael begging some servile fairy dragon for anything. More like demand, then decapitate if denied.
Because I was such an important guest, Weston had prepared everything himself—his assistants were apparently competent, but of course nowhere near as good as he was—and so the entrées were: wild white squash with tomato and basil sauce, fresh plum and mint cocktail, roasted pheasant with night spices and pear and lemon cream sauce, herb-infused boar’s belly with wild ginseng and sweet dates, grilled giant lobsters with white articho—
Nahemah’s entrance interrupted Weston’s paean to the menu, thank god. Every moment I spent listening to him was another moment Valerie wasn’t getting the antidote. And polite or not, I didn’t think I could stand it much longer.
Nahemah didn’t walk in from the main doorway like I had, but appeared between the fluted columns like an apparition. This time, her mane was magenta and coiled on top of her head. Her matching Grecian dress should’ve been too much, but she managed to pull it off and ended up looking dashing. Her skin glowed golden, as if she’d been sun-kissed. Maybe there was a tanning salon somewhere in the Lunar Garden.
Naturally, Ramiel noticed her. He and I made to rise, but Nahemah waved us down.
“Please.” She smiled apologetically. “Terribly sorry I’m late.”
“That’s all right.” I glanced around. I remembered Besade, where the dragon elite had joined the banquet.
“It’s just the three of us. I don’t dine with my guards.”
This was Ramiel’s cue to say something politic, but he didn’t.
I sighed.
Our liliths and samaels put small portions of the first course onto abalone shells and brought them to us. I tasted a few things, trusting Weston’s culinary skills. What choice did I have? To do otherwise would be an insult to both the hostess and the fairy dragon. Plus, she had sworn not to poison anything.
A ceviche of crisp pickled onions, tomatoes and diced baby octopus legs in a spicy lemon juice looked interesting, but it wasn’t something I’d normally seek out. Still, I took a bite. The tartness of the tomato and lemon balanced the sweetness of the onion. The octopus was just chewy enough and savory.
Weston obviously knew what he was about. I looked up to find the fairy dragon hovering in front of me, his foreclaws knitted together expectantly. I nodded and smiled, and he dipped briefly in satisfied acknowledgment.
“So how’s Leh?” Nahemah’s voice was melodious and soft over the chorus in the background.
“She’s fine.” Or had been, until I took her heartstone. I remembered her cool skin. How weak she’d looked.
“Mmmm…I can’t believe she still sees Nathanael, especially on a night like this. What could she have been thinking?”
I didn’t know what to say. Obviously Nahemah had put two and two together. I glanced at Ramiel, but he was too busy scarfing down his food to notice. He hadn’t had the refreshment earlier. He must have been famished, but I would have liked him to help me
with Nahemah, especially after making such a big deal about being my ally.
I guess our alliance extended to sex and the whole vow thing, but not social situations.
“The robe of translucence is no longer wearable. Ah well, another rag for the dish girls.” Her tone was more teasing than chiding. She sipped her wine and watched me over the rim. “Difficult to believe Nathanael saw through my illusion.”
“There was a minor accident.” Let her speculate about how it had happened. Before she could ask me any more questions, I turned to Ramiel. “Did you two get along while I was in the Mystic Forest?”
