Page 1 of The Princess's Chosen

1

Bryony

“Mmm, yessss…"

I winced as my knife scratched against the porcelain dish, wondering if I was imagining the piercing stare of my grandmother flick in my direction from the other end of the dining table.

"Ohhhh, yes! Yes!"

Cosmo sat to my left, his shoulders shaking as he stared down at his plate with wide eyes and a smile pinned between his teeth. Camellia was slouched in her chair at the center of the right side of the table. Her Chosen Sam was kissing her shoulder and holding a bunch of grapes over her lips, while Igor had his face buried between her legs, where she'd thrust him beneath the dining table after the soup course.

Lady Pru watched the scene with an amused interest and an avid appetite for our steak and kidney pies, while the rest of my Chosen tried to remain impassive, uncertain where to put their gazes.

"Ahh! Ah, yes, finally!" Camellia cried, accidentally taking a grape into her mouth at the precise same moment as her climax, so that she came while choking lightly, her knees banging into the underside of the table and making the dishes rattle.

Candlelight shimmered, and for the first time since Camellia decided she had to be 'served' at our dinner, I watched with interest, waiting to see what the Hunger would do.

There was a great groan from under the table, and Sam moaned and shuddered against Camellia, who spat the grape on the table. There was no transformation I could see, and I realized as Sam began to palm at Camellia's breast and rut against her side—almost falling off his chair—that she'd put the magic directly back into them.

My stare turned to my grandmother at last, meeting her eyes across the miles of table. Was thatreallywhat she wanted from me? A useless display of carnal satisfaction?

"Take it to the hallway, Camellia," Grandmother said, with a weary sigh.

Camellia giggled, but Sam at least did us the favor of dragging my sister up out of her chair and hauling her toward the nearest hall, Igor chasing after them on his hands and knees with his pants hanging loose. Their grunts and moans started up again a few moments later, and Lady Pru snorted into her napkin as Wendell took a deep gulp of his wine, his eyes sliding to me with sympathy in his stare.

"How long do you plan on visiting, Grandmother?" I asked.

"Are we unwelcome, Bryony?"

Yes. "Of course not. Only unexpected. I wish you had come to see the festival too," I said.

Grandmother hummed and took a bite of her pie, her head shaking. "Dusty common festivals aren't really my form of entertainment,dear."

I gritted my teeth, fingers clenching around the handle of my knife, wishing I could reach for Owen, who frowned at her dismissal.

"And how was your journey?" I asked instead.

"Rough," my grandmother growled. "The roads are bad and…you know I approve of Camellia's appetite—" There was a great exclamation from the hall as if in emphasis. "But it does grow tiresome when confined in the carriage."

I resisted the urge to make a disgusted face, and instead hummed and took a slow bite of food. "We noted the condition of the roads on our own travels," I said mildly.

Grandmother raised an eyebrow. "And yet, you decided to forgo taxes?"

I set down my fork and knife and folded my hands into my lap where my grandmother wouldn't see me wringing them. "I observed that the condition of our people was much worse."

The other occupants at the table, and even the guards in the room, seemed to watch us like opponents in a sporting match, eyes volleying back and forth, waiting to see who scored next.

"Is that so?" Grandmother asked, frowning. I nodded, and she turned her focus to her meal. "I see. We'll discuss this more tomorrow. Do you have a young woman who can attend me this evening?"

I glanced at Lady Pru, who took the initiative. "We do, Your Majesty. I'll see to it now if I might be excused."

Grandmother and I both nodded in answer, and Lady Pru left the table with a quiet squeak of her chair on the tile.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" I asked, studying my grandmother carefully. Even in the warm candlelight, she did look…weary. It wasn't a quick journey from the capital to here, and if I'd been trapped in a carriage with Camellia and two of her Chosen, I was sure I'd look much worse.

"No, dear," Grandmother answered, less snappishly. "Nothing a good soak and a decent sleep can't do. Now explain to me why you need two stewards."

"The council appointed Daniel Farraque," I said, glancing around the room and realizing the man in question was missing, for once, which was strange for him. "I appointed Lady Prudence. She suits me better, and Farraque manages the laborious end."

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