Page 120 of The Ballad of the Vampire Prince

“Thank you.”

What?

I’m not sure I heard that right.

Surely he is being sarcastic? I crane my neck for a better view of his face.

Svenn is staring at the painting in awe, completely bedazzled.

“You drew me…” he mutters breathlessly. His eyes are still captivated by my ugly drawing as if it is a divine work of art from the Age of the First King.

I meant it as an insult. I wanted to hurt him.

He is still looking at it, full of sincere appreciation.

Guilt prompts me to add three strokes on top of the turtle’s head for hair.

“I’ll treasure this forever. Thank you, Nel,” he says.

I feel my cheeks heat, either from the gratitude or the way he calls my name.

His amused eyes move to me, shining with intensity. It’s difficult to gather air into my lungs whenever he does that. My stomach decides to add to the awkwardness by growling in the silence.

Just like that, his gaze and his voice turn dark again. “Come now. Let us feast.”

Chapter 17 Rhianelle

My mouth waters at the sight of the dishes on the table, venison drenched in rich saffron, buttered bread, various green herbs, berries, and pomegranates. The soft glow from the three-tiered candles makes everything seem that much more appealing.

This is too much food for two people.

I pile them all on my plate until they form a small mountain.

“Where am I supposed to sit?” I ask since Svenn is now sitting on the only chair in the room.

“With me,” he says easily, leaning back. He leans back, inviting me to settle down on his lap.

My stomach dips at the silent demand.

I should have taken his offer earlier when he was generous enough to pull the chair for me. I want to rush back to the painting room to get the wooden stool. But I realized the poor thing has become food for the flames in the crackling fireplace.

This evil, evil man.

“I’ll go eat at the corner then,” I say moving straightaway to the back wall. I’m prepared to eat while standing. It’s not like Lady Deirdre is here to reprimand my poor manners and etiquette.

“Come sit with me.” His voice carries in the dark chamber.

“I’m good here, thanks.” I wave back.

I attempt to balance the plate with one hand while trying to eat with the other. Of course, the platters in this castle are the large porcelain ones, meant to serve a royal household. Svenn watches my antics silently from his comfortable seat.

If the plate crashes, then I would waste this precious food. I’d hate for that to happen. More than I hate the cruel man at the table.

I march back to him and claim my place on top of him. He stills when I climb into his lap. The chair groans from our combined weight. Or maybe it was him who groaned. I don’t know.

“Happy now?” I ask.

He seems pleased. “Almost.”

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