Page 122 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

“I see you found the human then.” She manages to keep her expression blank as she says the word ‘human,’ but I can see through her mask. I know her true feelings towards me, half of the guards witnessed it, but for some reason she’s pretending otherwise in front of Vaeril.

“I told you, Your Majesty, she stays by my side,” he replies politely, but firmly, bowing his head to her in a gesture of respect.

“I see.” She hums, turning to address me. “Human—”

“Her name is Clarissa.” I can hear the anger in Vaeril’s voice, and even the queen looks shocked that he would interrupt her, but she simply brushes it off, returning her gaze to me.

“Clarissa, why don’t you join me in the atrium for afternoon tea? I’m sure you’re hungry after being locked up all night,” she suggests lightly, patronisingly, with a tilt to her head that stirs the anger inside me.

I know she’s trying to highlight our differences to Vaeril—that he had spent the night in the castle, and the grimy human was in the dungeons. I also get the impression that she ordered for me not to be fed from the cruel gleam in her eyes.

Pushing my anger aside, I simply smile at her, tilting my head in an imitation of her. “I was looked after very well, Your Majesty, they brought me regular meals.”

Her expression darkens, and I worry Kaelir might get into trouble for feeding me, but before I can say anything, the look disappears.

“Well, I insist. We have lots to talk about.” Waving her hands in dismissal of any protests, she begins to turn, sauntering back the way she came from. Her two ladies in waiting, who I hadn’t even seen before, wait for her to pass before following behind her.

Glancing at Vaeril with wide eyes, I look to him for help. He’s frowning again, but I don’t know if it’s from what just happened with the queen, or from him having to intervene for me.

“Your Majesty,” he calls, and she immediately glances over her shoulder, smiling directly at him.

“Of course, you’re welcome too, Lord Vaeril.”

It’s clear she expects us to follow her, and I realise she wants us for ‘afternoon tea’ now. I’m grimy and uncomfortable, but I get the feeling that’s exactly how she wants me to feel.

“May I be excused to wash up first?” I inquire, as we start to follow behind her.

The queen stops, and even I can hear her sigh before she turns around to face me. “Oh no, come as you are. You look…” She looks me up and down, and I know exactly what she thinks of my appearance. “Fine,” she finally replies, not even bothering to try and hide her smirk.

“We would love to join you, Your Majesty,” Vaeril tells her, to which she makes a pleased sound before turning to lead us to the atrium.

Why in the Holy Mother would he agree? I glare at him as he starts slowly walking behind the queen, hoping he can feel my frustration down our link.

Grimacing, he leans over, his mouth to my ear as he whispers, “Just go along with it. I will be there, you are safe.” His breath tickles my ear, and I know he’s trying to comfort me, but instead I become hyperaware of how close he is to me, the warmth from his skin against mine. As he pulls away, I see the heat in his eyes, and I know he’s fully aware of how he’s making me feel. We’re playing a dangerous game, especially since we’re just behind the queen who could order my death with a snap of her fingers.

The palace is huge, and I’m pretty sure my mouth is hanging open for most of the walk. I don’t know what an atrium is, but I’m sure it will be just as beautiful. We finally reach a room with a roof made entirely of glass panels. Three of the walls are the same white stone as the rest of the palace, with carved columns depicting vines and tiled mosaic pictures of elves swimming in the ocean. The far wall is made entirely of glass and faces out over the cliff, straight to the sea. The river from the waterfallcascades off the edge and into the ocean below, the sound a dull roar. In the centre of the room is a low table full of plates of food and small, ceramic cups, surrounded by comfortable-looking chairs.

The queen goes immediately to the largest chair, the one that has its back almost pressed up against the wall. “Please sit,” she instructs, as she straightens her skirts. At first, I thought she was wearing the same dress as the day before, but now that we are much closer, I can see the neckline is different, but still in that bright bronze colour.

Vaeril takes the seat to the right of the queen, receiving a smile from her. Choosing the remaining seat next to him, I examine the food on the table, my stomach making a loud gurgling sound again. Trying to hide my blush of embarrassment, I feel the queen’s amusement as she watches me.

“Oh, please, help yourself,” she mocks, obviously enjoying my discomfort.

Don’t let her know she angers you. Eat the food, don’t let it go to waste. She wants to think you are a gormless human, so let her think it, at least you won’t go hungry, I think, looking at all the beautifully made food. There is no way she is planning on eating all of this, it’s just for show. Mind made up, I plaster a smile on my face as I look up at the queen, reaching over for one of the small plates.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I reply, as I start to load up my dish, making sure to try one of every item on the table.

“So, Clarissa…” I only just manage to stop my sigh as she speaks, putting emphasis on my name, and I know I won’t be left to eat in peace. Lowering my plate so it rests on my lap, I wait for whatever she’s going to ask me. “Vaeril tells me you were a slave. You were a criminal in your kingdom?”

Oh, he did, did he? I hope Vaeril can feel the glare and anger I’m pushing down the link between us. That is my story to tell, and like Eldrin, she hasn’t earned that right. I look over at him now, his face is blank, but I can feel a twinge of discomfort from the link, and I know he received my feelings.

Turning my attention to the queen, I see she’s been watching my interactions with Vaeril with interest.

“I was a slave from the age of eight, until recently when I was blessed. I don’t remember my life before that.” I only tell her the basics, partially because she doesn’t need to be privy the rest, but also because I’m very limited with what I actually do know. Not that I want her knowing that.

Raising an eyebrow, she glances between me and Vaeril, who is reaching forward for one of the dainty ceramic cups. Raising the cup to his lips, he takes a small sip of the steaming liquid. A laugh bubbles up within me at seeing the strong, warrior elf daintily sipping from the tiny cup, so much so that I have to look away. A pulse of amusement reaches me through the connection, and I know he’s doing it on purpose.

“You were recently released from slavery? I thought you were being punished, which was how you met Lord Vaeril.”

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