Page 52 of Once the Skies Fade

Nobody even coughed.

Everyone simply stared at me as if I’d just been speaking in some foreign tongue, like there wasn’t a feast waiting to be devoured.

I was about to open my mouth to say something—though I wasn’t quite sure what exactly—when finally, someone shifted. Heavy, confident footsteps reverberated through the room andall heads turned toward the sound, continuing to swivel as they followed the individual’s movements. I couldn’t see who it was, nor was I about to crane my neck and stand on my toes to see over the others. Rather, I pivoted on my toe and made my own way toward the buffet table, set on enjoying my cook’s food and ignoring my guests and their reason for being here. Focused solely on the stack of plates at the end of the table, I ignored the movement in my periphery despite the spark of curiosity that begged me to at least steal a peek at who had moved first.

We arrived at the table at the same time, but my resolve held fast, and I kept my attention firmly on the decadent spread my staff had prepared instead of worrying about the audience behind me or the male to my left. To his credit, he didn’t try to make conversation as he followed my lead and began stacking food on his plate. My stomach grumbled, rumbling loudly through the quiet room. The male next to me chuckled, and the scent of wood and leather hit me, as if it rode his laughter.

Shit. Matthias. Of course.

Why weren’t the musicians playing? Why be here if they weren’t going to do their job?

As if they could hear my thoughts, the musicians immediately slipped into a soft, soothing melody that filled the awkward void, while remaining quiet enough to allow guests to converse. With my plate topped with a small portion of each dish—all my favorites, thanks to Isa—I made my way to the table and chose a seat at random.

“Let me get that for you,” a friendly, familiar voice said. Graham was already gliding the chair out. Relief loosened the tension in my body, and my once-racing pulse eased a bit. He offered a sweet smile as he gestured for me to sit.

“Thank you, Graham,” I said and added a quick command to “go eat” before I settled myself at the table.

Keeping my eyes down, fixed on my meal, I listened to the shuffle of feet as everyone finally followed suit and meandered toward the buffet.

Matthias, thankfully, did not come sit beside me, but instead selected a seat several chairs away.

So he doesn’t have to look at you all night.

Not that I wanted to stare at him either, but some small, idiotic part of me was stung by this mild rejection.

Could I blame him, though? I had called for his disbarment. Even if he wanted to leave the games, he couldn’t. Not while under the blood oath. He was here until someone won…or he died.

The meal was an altogether uncomfortable affair as the Assembly bombarded the contestants with questions, as if they had come here for a simple interview rather than a deadly competition. None of the males said much in answer, though, which brought a smirk to my lips that only deepened with each failed interrogation. Isa tried, on several occasions, to engage the Assembly in other conversation and give our guests a break, but she eventually gave up and resorted to speaking with me instead.

“This roast lamb may be Xavier’s best yet,” she said, plopping a tender piece into her mouth.

I nodded. “It’s got nothing on his mashed potatoes, though. Have you tasted them?”

“I’ve already had two helpings,” she admitted, and speared a piece of beetroot.

My staff hustled around the table, refilling wine goblets and replenishing water glasses, carrying away empty platesand bringing back second helpings upon request. As much as I wished to relax and simply chat about potatoes, my frayed nerves had me on edge, my shadows churning in my veins and tensing every muscle in my body. Keeping my head lowered, I stole a glance at each male who had sworn to compete for my hand. One of them would win. Some would likely die. I knew I should feel remorse over that fact, but no one had forced them to enter—unlike me, who would be forced to accept one of them. They had been warned of the risks, and still they had come. Whoever among them was to rule with me needed to prove himself, but I couldn’t shake this sense of foreboding that had burrowed into my bones.

Twisting my neck around to hide my lips from the others, I whispered to Isa as quietly as I could. “Are we sure Asher will be here?”

Isa nodded discretely, lifting her glass as if to take a sip, but answering me quickly before doing so. “He arrived last night and is camping on the southeastern edge of the forest.”

“And you’re sure he?—”

“Yes,” she said, not bothering to lower her voice this time as she faced me. “He knows what to do. Now, can I fetch you some dessert? A tart or a macaron? Maybe a cream puff or two?”

I looked down at my plate and the meal that appeared barely touched. The unease in my stomach had sabotaged my enjoyment of the food, but I wouldn’t turn down my chef’s confections.

Once Isa rose from the table to raid the desserts, others opted to do the same, and the collective scraping of chairs against the stone floor nearly drowned out the quartet’s music. I remained seated along with two Assembly members so deep in their quiet discussion they hadn’t seemed to notice everyone had left. Awkwardly, I turned to watch the musicians, swaying lightly totheir music so as to pretend I cared about or even heard what they were playing.

“No dessert for our shadow queen?”

I snapped my head around and winced as the sudden movement strained my neck. My eyes widened against my will at the sight of the male standing there.

Matthias.

His name on my thoughts drove my teeth together, and I tried to swallow, but my throat had closed up.

Why is he even here? Why did they send him?

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