Page 76 of Vale of Dreams

He turns to me, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. The candlelight wavers over the perfect planes of his face, and he starts to shift the woman off him and stand.

“Oh, don’t bother,” I say sharply.

I turn and stalk away, the strawberry tart in my hand.

I keep up the angry act, if it can be called an act, as I pass a few nobles from the high council meeting. With every step, I feel Arwenna’s eyes on me, waiting to see if I will take a bite. When I turn her way, she quickly shifts her stare and lets out a loud, fake laugh. She’d make a terrible spy.

When I’m close to her, I brush against one of the waiters. As I do that, I tug at my powers. Abrupt pain shoots through my skull, but I ignore the piercing throb. I dive into the waiter’s mind and sift through his thoughts, desires, and worries. I don’t have much time, so I plant a single tiny thing in his mind and pull away. As I release my magic, the pain dissipates to a dull throb.

I pivot and stalk around the banquet tables until I’m standing across from Arwenna, then smile at her. “Hello.”

Her eyes flick down to the tart—still uneaten. She brushes her silver hair behind her shoulders. “Hello,” she says coldly.

I drop my tart on the plate next to hers, and I can see her effort not to glance at it. Her tart, unlike mine, doesn’t have a strawberry on it. They’re only for the elite, and apparently, Arwenna didn’t make the cut.

“I feel like we started off on the wrong foot,” I say. “I don’t know many people in the palace. Since you and Talan are clearly close, I’d be glad to get to know you better.”

She stiffens. “I don’t think that’s going to?—”

A sudden crash behind her makes her whirl around. The waiter I’ve mind controlled just dropped his tray, and dozens of crystal glasses shatter on the floor. All eyes are on him except mine.

The head waiter lunges forward. “You fool! Look what you’ve done.”

“I’m…I’m sorry,” the waiter blurts. Falling to his knees, he frantically begins to pick up the pieces, ignoring his bleeding fingers.

“Leave that!” the head waiter snaps. “Go get a broom. We can’t have guests cutting their feet on those shards. Someone could get hurt.”

Shaking her head, Arwenna turns to her friend. “The staff here are getting more useless every day. They have no standards anymore.” She slides her gaze to me. “No standards for any of those we let in here these days, isn’t that right, Nia?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Might as well play dumb, at least for a few minutes. I pick up the tart and take a large bite.

“Don’t you remember, Alenia, when we only let those of noble blood into the castle? All the mistresses were at least ladies and not desperate social climbers from filthy hovels.” Arwenna stares at me as I eat the tart, her eyes twinkling viciously as I chew. “Those of noble breeding are the most exquisite beauties and shining intellects, and only they should get close to the throne.”

“Is that right?”

She raises her chin and sniffs the air. “Why is it that every time I’m near you, I smell the rancid stench of a demi-Fey?”

My blood runs cold, but I pretend to ignore her, staring at the tart instead. “This tastes a bit off,” I say, grimacing. “I think something’s wrong with it.”

Smiling, she takes a bite of her own tart. “Tastes fine to me. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with them. I’m not going to waste it, even if they forgot my strawberry.”

“Maybe it’s fine,” I say with a frown. “Well, it’s been nice talking to you.”

I wave and saunter away, taking another bite from the tart.

Returning to my chair, I sit and wipe the crumbs from my lips. In all honesty, it’s one of the best desserts I’ve ever tasted.

Leaning back, I fix my gaze on Arwenna. After a minute or two, her expression changes, the color draining from her cheeks. Her forehead wrinkles, and she grabs a glass of water, nearly knocks it over, then manages to grip it. With a shaking hand, she drains the water, then stares at the leftovers of her tart. Her eyes widen at the faint pink sheen on the top of the tart, where my sliced strawberry used to be.

Her jaw drops open, and she turns to me, eyes wide with horror. She covers her mouth, looking like she’s about to vomit. I pick up my mead glass and raise it at her, smiling tightly.

She runs from the room.

Maybe she has an antidote, but I don’t think she’ll try to poison me again.

I may not be of noble breeding, but now the bitch knows who she’s dealing with.

CHAPTER 27

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