Page 24 of Avaritia

“Sure you weren’t.” Verity shot me a coy grin, brimming with confidence. She never responded the way I expected her to, and it entirely threw me off-balance.

“I simply felt it would be practical for us to take a daily meal together, so I have decided that’s what we shall do.”

“Well, if you’ve decided, then I guess there’s nothing more to be said,” Verity remarked mildly, watching me over the rim of her cup before taking a sip of her drink.

“That’s obviously correct,” I agreed, though somehow she’d made it sound like it wasn’t obviously correct and it had me second-guessing myself slightly.

Which was ludicrous, I never second-guessed myself.

I ate in silence, watching Verity do the same and making a note to ask Wilder to enquire at the palace about the food offerings for Hunters. She seemed content enough with meat, but perhaps there were other things her fragile body required?

As though I’d summoned him with my thoughts, Wilder slipped through a servants’ door, giving us a curt bow.

“Any response from my mother?”

“She has already sent for your sister. I delivered Melody-Rainywillow to her immediately. I’m here because you have received an invitation from the palace to dine with them tomorrow evening, Your Graces.”

I sighed heavily. Had I not suffered enough?

Verity looked at me, frowning slightly. “Do we need an invitation? Anyone can eat in the hall, right?”

“Only those who live at court,” I corrected. “But I’m assuming this particular invitation is for a private dinner.”

“That is correct, Your Grace,” Wilder replied. “A private invitation from the king.”

“This is your fault,” I muttered to Verity. “Usually, the king goes out of his way to avoid my presence.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied sweetly, as if my words had been meant as a compliment. “Ooh, what am I going to wear?”

Wilder looked at me, waiting for confirmation either way to give to the palace messenger who was undoubtedly waiting in the foyer.

I had no particular desire to go, spending time at the new palace only ever served as a reminder of everything I’d lost. But Verity looked… excited. Presumably, it was some unwelcome side effect of the mating bond, but I disliked the idea of taking that excitement away from her.

“Fine,” I agreed. “Tell them we’ll attend.”

“Very good, Your Grace,” Wilder murmured, inclining his head respectfully as he backed out of the room. Verity was far more jovial for the remainder of lunch, while I sunk into an increasingly worse mood. Was the idea of spending time with them really so appealing for her? Why was my company not enough to make her smile and chatter like that?

Why did it even bother me that it wasn’t?

Chapter 8

“Idon’t think your new father likes me,” I whispered conspiratorially to Fester as I finished getting ready for dinner at the palace, pulling my hair back on one side into twists, encouraging my curls to sit firmly on the left side of my head to help with bite coverage.

Fester opened one eye, staring down at me from the high ledge he’d sprung onto, before closing it again.

“He didn’t pull me out of storage at all last night,” I continued. “And the only time I saw him all day was for lunch, and I got three grunts and an order to eat more meat. What do you think that means? Because I think it means I’ve already irritated him, and he’s having second thoughts but he’s also supernaturally stuck with me now.”

I added a few silver braid cuffs to my hair twists and double-checked that my scar wasn’t visible beneath my baby pink jumpsuit. It was sleeveless, with a high neck and bow, and I’d paired it with shiny silver pumps that were just the right amount of tacky for my tastes. They also matched the new press-on nails I’d spent the afternoon applying, which were a soft pale pink, and covered in diamante swirls.

“Oh well, at least I’ll have some company at dinner. Not that you aren’t wonderful,” I assured a dozing Fester. “It’s just that your conversational skills could use a little work, you know?”

He deigned to give me an offended look as I left the room, my heels clacking loudly on the stone floors, disturbing his sleep. I triple-checked the door was shut behind me before heading down the stairs, following the sound of raised voices to the foyer.

“You’re not coming,” Theon insisted, glaring at an enraged-looking Rainy, and an older Shade that had to be their mother—she had the same pink eyes and curling horns, though hers were daintier than Theon’s.

“There she is!” she squealed. “Come here, come here. Let me look at you.”

Hesitantly, I headed the rest of the way down the stairs, ignoring Rainy’s death glare and smiling tentatively at the Shade in front of me who was all but bouncing on her feet with excitement.

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