Page 99 of Onyx Cage: Volume II
Rowan stared at her in horror, and it wasn’t hard to divine where the kick might have come from.
“Stars, Mamá,” Avani murmured, while even the king gave a small wince.
Charlotte looked at me in apology, but I waved away her concern. It was hardly the first uncomfortable subject that had been broached today, and it would likely not be the last.
She went on in a more subdued tone. “I’ll order up some tea and pastries to hold us over until dinner.”
The idea of stomaching something that sweet without even the balance of a proper meal was nothing short of revolting to me, but I wouldn’t argue with the food provided, certainly not after the reminder of what my own citizens would do for food.
Probably not before then, either. Even this far from home, there were customs too deeply ingrained to break free of.
As it turned out, I didn’t have to worry about voicing an objection.
“Evander doesn’t like pastries,” Rowan told her mother.
I raised an eyebrow at her. That was a mild way of putting it, but it wasn’t like I had made that disgust known. I dutifully consumed my sickening dessert each evening out of the same decorum I desperately hoped she would adopt in my kingdom.
Yet she had noticed something that would have escaped my own men, in spite of her outward avoidance of me since my arrival. Not only that it wasn’t my choice of food, but that I directly disliked nearly every confection that came across the table, especially the ones here.
What else did she notice behind her mask of obliviousness?
Not that it was all feigned, but she had certainly been paying more attention than I realized.
“Bread and cheese, then?” Charlotte suggested without hesitation. There was no offense, concealed or otherwise, the way there would have been if I had argued with the offerings of another clan.
“That would be perfect.” I returned to my perusal of Rowan’s features.
She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “What?”
“I’m just...surprised you noticed,” I admitted.
She raised both of her eyebrows, smirking. “It wasn’t hard to guess that you would get no joy from something perfect and sweet.”
Staring down the princess who was far more real than anything perfect and far more interesting than anything sweet, I shrugged a single shoulder.
“I don't deny that,” I acknowledged in an undertone. “Why have perfect and sweet when you can have bold and unexpected?”
I didn’t have to wonder if she had heard the double meaning in my words. Her skin flushed with the praise, and her eyes lit up with a glow I couldn’t look away from. Avani cleared her throat, pulling my attention reluctantly back to my turn.
I expected to feel the weight of the king’s glare, as I usually did when he caught me displaying the sheer audacity of speaking with my betrothed, or worse, looking at her. This time, though, his expression was more thoughtful, his dark eyes shadowed with an emotion that felt both heavier than his disdain and infinitely more complex.
I wasn’t sure if it was an improvement or not.
CHAPTER FORTY
We lost ourselves in another few days of wedding planning and court dinners. Avani said less and less at each meal, and she wasn’t the only one.
Davin, too, was uncharacteristically quiet, and Gwyn managed to be even more relentless in the sparring ring. Gallagher was always quiet, but it felt more intentional now.
Grief hung heavily in the air with the approaching memorial. It had been one thing, hearing Rowan reference the atmosphere she had so desperately wanted to escape from. It was another, experiencing firsthand the dramatic shift from the boisterous chaos of the past week to the oppressive blanket of silence that settled over the castle walls.
I dressed in the deep green shirt Jocelyn had ordered last week, per the instructions on my schedule. It was an ominous shade, the exact color of the dress Rowan had been wearing when I found her tied to a flogging post, clinging to consciousness by the sheer force of her stubborn will.
The color of Ava’s eyes, though I supposed that meant it was the color of Avani’s as well. Was that why it had been Mac’s favorite?
I hadn’t known the man—I barely knew Avani, for that matter—but disquiet settled in my gut all the same as I fastened the silver buttons of the tunic. The breakfast room was so silent that I wondered at first if I was early, but I turned the corner to find the table half filled with the family, including Mac’s father.
No one spoke. The only sound in the room was the subtle scraping of food being loaded onto plates in much smaller portions than usual.