His metallic head turns to me, and I see my flushed face in the reflection.Shit, this creep isn’t some sort of mind reader, is he?
I take a couple of awkward steps forward; I truly need to find the lesser of two evils.
A door pushes open from the opposite side of the room and for a moment, all I can see is a black silhouette. A sharp icy breeze hits me.
Keldarion is here. He stumbles into the light, and he looks… awful.
Well, as awful as an incredibly handsome fae prince can look. While the rest of the princes have put in a little effort to look regal for the monumental occasion that is having lunch with me (I mean, I can’t really say that about Ezryn, but his helmet is especially shiny), Keldarion looks like he crawled out of a sewer.
His white hair hangs limp over his shoulders and is strewn with dirt. Dried blood stains his low-cut black tunic and shadows ring his light eyes. The only delicate thing about him is a crystallized snowflake necklace that lays on his muscular chest.
Keldarion meets my gaze from across the room but looks away with a tight sneer as he heads for the table. Considering the last time I saw him I was lying limp in his massive wolfy jaws, I guess I was expecting a warmer reaction.
I too stomp across the dining room, making considerably more noise in the dainty slippers than should be possible. And before I even know what I’m doing, I’m pulling out the head chair opposite Keldarion and shooting him a glare as I sit down.
Farron also awkwardly falls back in his seat. Dayton leans over and whispers something in his ear, which causes Farron to smile. Someone with fangs that sharp shouldn’t be allowed to have that cute of a smile.
The dining room is suddenly alive with staff busying about. Plates of freshly baked pastries, heaps of crisp salad, and colorful vegetables fill the center of the table. Staff deliver carafes of juice and steaming pots of hot tea.
As the staff busy about, I can’t help but notice that Dayton greets every one of them by name, stopping to chat and asking about their morning. He really is stupidly charming. One of the female servants lingers a little, a hand on his arm.
Marigold and Astrid told me the princes keep their distance from the staff, but is that true? I clench my hands into fists beneath the table. What am I thinking? He flirted with me once and just made it obvious that’s what he does with everyone.
Plus, he’s a monstrous wolf.
Dayton is the first one to load his plate, but once it’s full, he places it in front of Farron and begins another. “You should try the strawberry jam.” Dayton gives me a wink. “Marigold has made it particularly sweet this week.”
All I can do is shake my head. I’ve never been one to refuse food, but my stomach is in knots.
“You need to eat.” Kel’s sharp voice snaps me out of my anxious thoughts, and I look up to see him staring at me from across the table.
“I’m not hungry,” I say back. It’s not a total lie.
A muscle feathering in Kel’s jaw is the only sign of his annoyance. I’m not sure why getting a rise out of him fills me with such a delicious fire. Maybe it’s my way to maintain some sense of control as his prisoner.
“If you don’t eat now,” Kel snarls, “you’ll be hungry later.”
“I’ll eat food then.”
“If you don’t eat with us,” Keldarion growls low, “then you don’t eat at all.”
“I’m not hungry!” I push myself up from the table and gesture toward Ezryn. “He’s not eating.”
Ezryn sits without a plate in front of him. I was wondering if he was finally going to take off his helmet to eat, but it seems a permanent fixture on his face.
“I eat alone,” Ezryn says simply. “I do not remove my helmet in front of anyone.”
Alright then.I turn back to glare at Kel, but he’s already moving, filling his own plate. My stomach growls, betraying all my earlier not hungry propaganda.
Suddenly, Kel drops the plate in front of me so hard I’m surprised the porcelain doesn’t shatter. It’s filled with all the pastries I’d raved to Marigold about yesterday. That traitor trash panda. Did she tell Kel what I liked? And if so, why the hell would he care?
“Eat,” he says. “You’re clearly hungry.”
Cold air washes over me, fresh snow and pine ensnaring me in its embrace. I try to break the moment by scowling at him, but when my gaze meets the ice-blue of his eyes, my resolve fades. His smoldering stare feels like a burning blaze trailing down my face, my neck, and settling on my chest. Astrid cinched my corset too tight, and I can feel him notice as a growl rumbles from his throat. It sounds different from anger, more… wanting.
I could slap myself. What is wrong with me? Am I that far gone I think I can differentiate between fae growls now?
Keldarion turns away. It feels like this douchey winter prince got the last word, which fills me with an unhinged anger. I stand and grab a hard red apple from the table.