Page 41 of Tarnished Crown

And more than ever, I longed for the peace of Theo’s arms.

CHAPTER30

Sleep was impossible.

I spent hours wondering if this would be my last night as Evander’s prisoner, how Theo would react to seeing me tomorrow, and if I might be back to getting married again.

When I finally dragged myself out of bed, I was somewhere between still angry about the fight from the night before and strangely chagrined. I knew Evander didn’t really hate everything, had seen it in the way he was with his men. I also knew that as far as captors went, he could have been far worse.

Of course, he could have justnotbeen my captor at all.

Still, he had agreed to this meeting. Maybe that meant he felt guilty about taking me and, in spite of how he acted, that he was going to let me go.And maybe my weather toe will sprout wings...

Regardless, I couldn't shake the butterflies beating their enormous wings in my stomach at the thought of seeing Theo in a few short hours. I took extra care with my hair, braiding the top section back from my face and deliberately not thinking about all the times Avani and I had done that for one another, though her curls were looser and easier to work with than mine.

I paired the cream-colored underpiece with the emerald corseted skirts to bring out the green in my eyes. It still felt odd not to don a matching tiara on days like this, but at least I had Theo’s bracelet to complete my outfit.

Finally, I headed downstairs to have breakfast with the others.

Much to my delight, it wasn’t porridge that awaited me in the kitchen, but instead, I was lured in by the buttery smell of biscuits. My mood immediately lifted when Riina pulled a tray of them out of the oven, plopping them onto a serving plate next to some butter and honeycomb.

I hadn’t seen biscuits since my breakfast with the duke, and that had hardly been an experience worth remembering. At least I could enjoy them this time.

My mouth watered, the anxiety of the day somehow diminishing in the light of this unexpected surprise.

Dmitriy and Henrick groaned over the dish of butter, both of them looking as if they had found their one true love.

“Should we give you three a moment?” I teased, eliciting a laugh from the room.

“If you don’t mind,” Dmitriy said, not even bothering to look up from the butter dish.

Henrick blushed, and the reddening of his cheeks reminded me so much of Theo it hurt.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve had butter,” he explained, and whatever he saw in my expression had him expounding. “Milk can be put to better use if it’s made into cheese. It lasts longer that way, and can be eaten on its own.”

Understanding dawned on me.

I hadn’t thought about that before. How much of a luxury butter could be. All at once, I felt extremely fortunate for the life I lived in Lochlann, though it was tinged with the bitter edge of guilt.

“Forgive my asking, but then why make vodka? Wouldn’t the potatoes go further in a meal?”

A few chuckles sounded around the room, but it was Nico who answered me.

“Before trade ended, it was our biggest export. No one needs to make it anymore. It’s a staple in nearly every cellar you come across.”

That made me feel better about the vodka I had purchased, but only barely. It was my parents’ refusal to trade that had led to the food shortages here. Even if it had been justified after the war, it was no easier to see the results of that decision.

Riina interrupted my thoughts by handing me a plate with eggs, some sort of fried, gamey meat and one of the freshly baked bundles of perfection.

With my newfound knowledge about the sanctity of butter, I was careful not to use too much, saving the rest for the men. Instead of moving to the table with the others, I ate my meal at the counter.

It was partly because I was too anxious to sit, but mostly because the only open seat at the table was next to Evander.

While things were more relaxed here than they were at the estate, there still seemed to be an order to it all, a subdued nature surrounding meals that was probably something my mother only dreamed about for her uncivilized children.

I expected Evander to meet my eyes with his usual casual, unaffected air, but he avoided my gaze altogether. Maybe he was still upset?

Or could he possibly feel a hint of remorse?