Page 38 of Ruby & Onyx

A server appears beside us, much to my relief, and I grab two bubbly flutes from his silver tray. Rather than hand one to Olly, as was my original intent, I gulp down the first glass in a matter of seconds and then start on the second. The fizzy liquid shoots straight to my head in a rush, and I wobble on my feet.

A moment later, the doors of the dining hall swing open for the king and queen to make their entrance. Their ruby crowns cast beams of red light across the room. Within seconds, all of the attendants contort themselves into postures of respect. I copy the other women, placing one foot behind the other and bending into a low curtsy.

King Vani nods and takes his seat at the head of the table. On cue, everyone rises and rushes to their seats, including Lord Myles and Lady Lora who eagerly scramble away, robbing me of the opportunity to ask more questions.

Instead, they rattle through my head in an endless litany. How does King Caelis know who I am? What were they looking for in my cottage? If the plan was to start a war, then the last thing that I would do is ransack an old cottage with no valuables. It doesn’t make sense.

Olly grabs my hand, leading me to our seats, which are stationed directly in the center of the too-long table. We pass a woman grumbling over her seat placement, seemingly unhappy about her odorous dining companion – a sentiment which I confirm as we get a whiff of his smelly armpits. My nose scrunches slightly, which he appears to notice. I do my best to offer a warm, placating smile, but he huffs in response.

I gather my skirt and cape before sitting, careful to avoid any clothing malfunctions. And, much to my dismay, the table setting is strange and unfamiliar. Why are there so many forks and knives? It’s so easy for me to feel out of place here. Even the simplest things like table settings intimidate me. It’s just one more reminder that I do not belong here.

A woman at least twenty years my senior lowers herself into the seat beside me. She introduces herself as Liliana, extending a gloved hand to me. Her eyes are a vibrant shade of amber like honey-coated wood.

“I’m Radya.” I do my best to return the smile, but it comes off weak.

She buries a laugh into her napkin before laying it in her lap. “Yes, dear. I surmised as much. You’re quite famous.”

“Of course, I’m the girl with the gift,” I mock.

Though Olly is engaged in conversation with the man to his left, his ear is angled toward me, and I swear his eyes are searching for me in the periphery.

“I suppose that’s true, but that’s not what I meant.” She giggles and sips from her glass of wine in a way that suggests that this is not her first beverage of the night, likely closer to her sixth. “Many women tried to capture the heart of your betrothed, but he swatted them away like flies. Many held on to the hope that they might one day succeed. Don’t worry, though. Your early arrival quickly squashed those hopes.”

“I’m sorry for squashing the hopes of the kingdom’s pining women, though I can hardly claim to have captured his heart.” A few compliments here and there hardly mean anything, especially coming from him. And besides, I’m not interested in capturing his heart. They can have it.

“You’ve only been here for four days, right?” I nod, and she continues, “Give it time. He’s yours if you want him. I can promise you that much.” Her lips widen into a cheeky grin. “You know, I visited Carcera before the village closed itself to the outside world.”

“Why? What is worth visiting in Carcera?”

“Nothing. It was more of a stopover.” She waves her hand dismissively as if the reason is too uninteresting or unimportant to bother sharing. But I see a flash of demons dancing behind her eyes, if only for a moment. It makes me wonder if there’s more to this woman than meets the eye.

“Where were you coming from?”

“My family is originally from Umbra, as was I for a time. I stopped in Carcera when I escaped.” Again, so casual. It breezes from her lips like she’s talking about going to the market or getting dressed in the morning.

Our conversation halts as servers lean over us to fill our bowls with soup. Steam billows from the bubbling red liquid, making my stomach growl. I wait to see which spoon Liliana takes before digging in. When she takes the spoon farthest to her right, I mimic her and then scoop up a spoonful. It’s a little too hot but still delicious. My mother and I made a similar recipe together, although our lack of spices made for a blander concoction.

For a moment, I forgot about our conversation, accidentally letting it dangle while I was distracted by soups from years past. Trying to pretend no such lapse occurred, I ask, “What were you escaping?”

Thankfully, she appears not to notice any awkwardness and answers without missing a beat. “My parents served as advisors in the Umbrian court. When I entered womanhood, they arranged for me to marry a wealthy naval commander. In their eyes, I was a token to be played, and he was a winning hand. They refused to see what I saw. Something darker, something cruel. I begged and begged for them to reconsider, but they gave me no choice.”

“Why wouldn’t they let you choose?”

“It was King Caelis who urged them into it. He saw the marriage as a way to strengthen the loyalty among his commanders. And whatever the Mad King wants, the Mad King gets. He charmed my parents with promises of power and fortune until they became blind to my wishes. Then it was as good as done. They shoved me down that aisle without ever looking back. Only took two days for my vile husband to show his true colors. He became abusive and cruel. And nobody seemed to care. They all just watched. So, to make a long story short, I left Umbra to escape him.”

I swallow a hard lump in my throat. “Did anybody try to stop him?”

“He hid it so well. To everybody else, he was a saint. Only I saw the demon beneath the mask.” She empties her glass and motions for a refill to a passing server.

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” I lean in, becoming more intrigued with every passing word. “How did you escape?”

“One day when the ogre was in a particularly vile mood, he beat me in the middle of the town square, oblivious to the crowd surrounding us. When he was done, he stormed off and left me curled up on the ground next to the statue of Cirronia. I laid there for a while, too embarrassed to get up, to show my defeat. People walked by and scoffed at the poor noble girl lying in filth. That’s when a Mendacian trader found me. He lifted me up, escorted me to his carriage, and smuggled me out of the city that very evening.”

“Who was he?”

“He was an angel in disguise, but I never saw his face.” The server fills her glass, and she doesn’t hesitate to take another long, labored sip. “The palace always seems to have the best wine, don’t you think?”

“I’ve only had the wine here and in Carcera, so I don’t have much frame of reference.” I don’t want to press her to share more about that painful time in her life, but I’m so curious. I want to know more about her life there and how she began her life here. She seems to have created a life that is totally and completely her own. And if she can do that after such a horrific history, then maybe I can, too. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you become part of this court if you came from Umbra?”

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