Page 24 of Ruby & Onyx

Four servants enter the room, each carrying trays covered by silver cloches. They place them down in front of us and lift the lids to reveal sandwiches at least three inches thick, sugary pastries, cured meats, cubed cheeses, carrots, potatoes, and a few items that I don’t recognize. There is even more here than earlier. It seems wasteful, especially after I fainted before eating a single bite of breakfast. Do any of these leftovers go back to the community?

My stomach growls to disrupt that thought, begging me to indulge, and I start piling food on my plate like it might be my last meal. Starting with a pastry the size of my hand, I gobble it down in only four bites. Then I sip on a smoking hot cup of coffee, which one of the servants poured while I ate. I hardly mind when it burns my tongue.

Olly snickers, snapping my attention back to him. I stop at once, suddenly feeling self-conscious. I didn’t grow up in the palace and surely wasn’t taught etiquette. That fact weighs heavily on me now as Olly fails to hide his amusement.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he chuckles.

“Very well, then. I won’t.” I don’t want him to see that he got under my skin, so I grab a block of cheese and take a bite so large that it bulges in my cheek.

He laughs again, but it’s tempered this time. He softens, appearing to chew on words like he’s struggling with what to say. “You know, our situations may be different, but I’m stuck in this position just like you. I have no other choice, never have.” His jaw clenches tight enough to flex each chiseled line. “I’d like it if we could get along.”

Even though he’s a prick, we are bound by the same rope. Each one of us tied to the choices of our parents. “You’re right. You didn’t choose this, and neither did I.”

“But here we are.” He leans back in his chair, and I sense a degree of resignation in his voice. Of course, he’s had much longer to arrive at the point of acceptance than me. “We’re both destined to follow orders eternally, or at least until I become the one to give the orders.”

This confirms my suspicion and gives me hope that we might forge a path out together. “Let’s start with being friends. How about that?”

“Friends first. Husband and wife, and oh-so passionate lovers later. Got it.” He winks at me, shattering that hope as quickly as it came.

“Are you capable of being friends without being insufferable?”

“Ouch, Radya. You wound me.” He grabs his chest, feigning a wound to the heart. “But tell me, does honesty make me insufferable?”

“Well, here I am proposing that we make the most of our unfortunate situation, and you mock me in response. That’s what makes you insufferable.” The voice in the back of my mind reminds me again that I am doing the exact opposite of what I set out to do. Befriend him. Recruit his help in pleading my case to his parents. That’s my goal, and I can’t lose sight of it.

“It wasn’t mocking. It was just a light-hearted joke. Friends can’t joke with each other?”

Gods, if I could just wipe that condescending smile off of his face…

“Friends can get to know each other first before talking about arranged marriages, or undressing, or bedding,” I say through gritted teeth.

Remember the goal, Radya. Play nice.

“Bedding? Who mentioned bedding?” He tilts his head back with laughter. “And, by the way, who says bedding?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Your exact words were actually ‘take my honor,’ which is far worse if you ask me.” I can feel my blood pressure rising.

“Okay, I get it. I apologize for wanting to rip your clothes off and consummate the proposed marriage then and there. See, I can apologize. A respectable trait in a husband, some might say.”

“You’re missing the point!” Already regretting the idea of befriending this man, even for my own gain, I grab a small carrot from the tray in front of me and chuck it at his face. The tiny vegetable twirls through the air before landing just above his perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

Silence follows and his jaw drops, eyes bulging wide in disbelief. A second later, he whips his head back and howls with laughter, nearly falling out of his seat. “Did you just throw a carrot at me?”

“Keep laughing and I might throw some of this gook,” I threaten, pointing to the dark bubbling porridge between us.

“Oh, please do.” I start to lunge toward the bowl, but he interjects. “I should remind you, however, that I can use magic, and you can’t. I could throw this entire spread at your head with the snap of my fingers.”

“If what your parents said is true, then I am also gifted. In fact, I believe that they called my gift so great that the gods only grant it once in a millennium.” Though they did tell me something of the sort, I don’t know that they were referring to magic. At this point, they have more magic than me just by having any at all.

“Have you ever actually produced any magic? Shown an inkling of power? Tested the limits?”

I slump down into my seat, hating that he called my bluff.

“Well, let’s try it, shall we? Focus your mind on throwing another carrot at my head. If you can make that carrot move, I will bow at your feet and praise you as the most powerful being to ever exist. I won’t even penalize you for your aim.”

Oh, gods, I should have seen this coming. Now I have to try, even if I’m forced to storm out of this room in embarrassment.

Breathe, Radya.

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