What she comprehended beyond a shadow of doubt: she and Micah desired more from each other. But a forever union?
Did she enjoy the nights she spent in his arms and dread the day they ended? Yes. Had she shaken off the shackles of loneliness for the first time since childhood? Also yes. Mostly. Could she remember where she was going with this? Not even a little.
“What’s your name?” she asked the girl.
“Cakara.”
“I was speaking to your companion,” Viori told her primly, earning a delighted giggle. How she missed her sweet Drendall.
“Her name is Nema.” Cakara propped herself over the table to softly admit, “She’s afraid of the king.”
“Is she now?” Viori whispered her words, too, acid beginning to churn inside her stomach. “Has he been cruel to her, then?” To any child? If so, Viori’s decision was made. No union.
A shrug of the girl’s delicate shoulders. “No, but he makes my skin feel funny and belua always hunt him. My friend Tiberius says that’s because he’s a monster too.” Head tilt. “The headmistress says my manners are as bad as yours.”
Did she now? Viori snuffed out her irritation and hummed a quiet tune while focusing on Nema. The doll blinked and flashed a bright smile at her.
“Would you enjoy hearing Nema tell you how much she loves you?” Viori asked.
Cakara nuzzled her cheek against the doll’s face. “Oh yes. More than anything.”
“Put your ear to her mouth, then, and listen.” She nodded to the doll. “Go on. Tell her.”
Cakara obeyed, willing to play along. But Nema obeyed as well, whispering her love to the little girl. Only Cakara heard; she sucked in a breath, her eyes growing wide with wonder.
“Well?” Viori prompted.
“Nema loves me more than anything else in the whole world!”
“You must be special then.” She winked, even as she chided herself for being a fool and risking the revealing of her powers for something as trivial as this.
“Cakara. There you are.” A harried centaur with brown hair and spotted fur fought her way through the crowd, making a beeline for the girl. “You know better than to leave your assigned seat.”
The headmistress to the rescue. Did she secretly dream of dining on her charges to extend the years of her life?
Viori’s nail beds heated, claws sprouting. “Is your headmistress cruel to you? Shall I rip her beating heart from her chest?”
Cakara wrinkled her face and straightened. “No, she’s not too bad. She takes care of us.”
“Cakara is an orphan,” Elena explained, eager to share her unwanted opinion as usual. A problem a queen could address. “Her parents died in battle last year.”
Cakara hugged her doll close. “They were wonderfully brave.”
A year ago. Viori’s stomach sank. The girl’s momma and papa had died during the battle between Micah and Kaysar, most likely. “I’m sure they were.” Despite her unease, she shifted in her seat with the grace of the queen she might or might not decide to be and peered at the headmistress. “If any harm comes to this girl, I’ll hold you personally responsible. I’m sure you can guess the punishment. I’m an evil seductress, after all, and Micah will agree to my verdict.”
The centaur’s eyes flared before she clipped her chin in acknowledgment and lowered her gaze. “My apologies for the disruption, ladies. Come, child.”
The centaur urged the orphan away. Cakara glanced over her shoulder and waved, and Viori nearly commanded her return. Goodness gracious. What in all the realm was wrong with her today? As shaky as a leaf, she emptied her goblet. Oh, look. A servant had already filled her up. Or maybe she’d snagged Norok’s cup. Who could remember anymore?
“I’m surprised,” Elena said, easing into Micah’s chair. “You didn’t hiss at the child.”
“I save my hisses for the deserving.” That said, she swung around to hiss at the blonde, who jumped, startled.
Elena narrowed her eyelids. “Must you be so defensive?”
“Yes, thank you. I must.” Who else would oversee her safety?
But after a while, she forgot the other woman’s presence and sipped her newest wine. The room continued to spin, her spirits rising and crashing as her thoughts whirred. What to do, what to do? Become queen or not?
Spotting a servant with a tray of desserts, Viori belted out a command without thought. “You. Come here.” The fae dashed over and bent low, offering the assortment. She selected the best one...then used her arm to slide the rest onto her plate. Mine.
Elena snarled as the servant hurried away, “Micah gives you his daily ration of food and water, denying himself his favorite luxuries. What do you give him in return, besides grief?”
He did what? An ember sparked in the center of Viori’s chest, forking out. She loathed the thought of Micah going without while she maybe, perhaps, occasionally glutted herself. Still, she said, “What I provide for him is his business, not yours. What I’ll offer you is a piece of advice. Stop lusting for him. It’s only going to bring you pain.”