Page 46 of The Dawn of the Cursed Queen

He let me go near a dining hall, voices clamoring from within. “Because I am your guard, remember? And I haven’t escorted you today.”

Fair, but the way he said it had my magic standing at attention. Not in fear or an attempt to protect me, but in a whisper, almost a purr. I mentally slapped it. Stop that. He was a traitor, a betrayer. He’d do the same to us.

“Okay.”

Vincent opened the door, and the voices within died when they saw him. A few beings grabbed their trays and scurried out. Those that remained kept their heads down and their voices low, avoiding eye contact with him. I saw Vincent tense, but he said nothing. Maybe he didn’t like the negative attention, but it was his own damn fault. I didn’t feel bad for him, not for a second.

He held out his arm, inviting me to proceed with him. Varying beings mixed and mashed a plethora of food, but none was familiar to me.

I took a step forward and paused. “I don’t know what to get.”

“What do you like?” he asked.

“Eggs?” I shrugged. “It’s early, so breakfast.”

“Go sit down. I’ll be right back,” he said before leaving me alone in the center of the room. I swallowed the growing lump in my throat and found an empty table. I wrapped the silk skirt around my legs and took a seat. Eyes darted between Vincent, me, and then back, but nobody said anything, not even a whisper. A cook with three horns seemed uneasy just to be here, so much so that he discarded his apron and left. I wondered if they feared Nismera would not be far behind her precious second in command.

Vincent approached and slammed plates down on the table, the sound making me jump. He sat, and I blinked at the large pile of food in front of me, a mix of greens and what looked like orange eggs.

“Sorry, not scrambled. They are hard-boiled. I’m afraid it’s the closest you’ll get in this realm,” Vincent said. He reached for a glass in front of him, the clear, shimmering liquid dancing as he raised it to his lips and took a drink. He then slid it toward me, and I made a face.

“I have two arms. I can only carry so much.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know where your mouth has been,” I said. “Actually, yes, I do, so no, thanks.”

His eyes darkened. “I promise it hasn’t been anywhere your mind is thinking this morning. You’re safe.”

“With you?” I scoffed. “Doubtful.”

“If you’re so worried about my mouth and where it’s been, just drink from the other side.”

Heat flashed across my face. “I’m not!”

His brow only rose as he turned from me, grabbing utensils for his food. “You’re the one that brought it up.”

My lips quirked, and I sighed. “Fine.” I took the glass and drank from the other side.

I made a noise when the liquid touched my lips. “It tastes like orange juice.”

Vincent grunted as he went about cutting the food on his plate and eating.

“So why did everyone scurry away from you? I figured you’d be labeled a hero for what you did to The Hand and Samkiel.”

His fork stilled halfway between his plate and mouth, a haunted look creeping over his angular features. I watched the line of his jaw flex, and I wondered if he truly felt guilt for his betrayal. I knew a handful of killers who slept like babies after gruesome murders, yet here Vincent was, acting as if I just screamed a secret across the room.

“I am one of Nismera’s High Guards. They fear me, thinking she is only a step behind.”

“Oh,” I said and nodded. I had been right.

“And my word is also law. I could have the cook in the far right gutted tonight for how he’s staring at you, and Nismera would allow it,” he said, taking a long drink from our shared glass.

I looked up to see the tall, lean cook was doing just that. His pale skin flashed a shade of pink, and his three eyes widened before he quickly looked away.

I returned my attention to my plate. “Please do not gut someone for looking at me.”

He shrugged. “I won’t.” He leaned close for a second. “Besides, that would be half of the legion.”

I rolled my eyes at him and continued to eat.

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