Page 53 of Once the Skies Fade

He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the back of the chair beside mine, holding a small plate of pastries in his hands.

What is taking Isa so long?

I couldn’t see her through Matthias, and I started to crane my neck to peer around him, but the strain I’d caused earlier whined in protest.

“Would you like one?” Matthias asked.

Shit, I had forgotten to answer his first question, though he didn’t seem to notice or care either way. Glancing from his plate to his face and back, I shook my head reluctantly.

My voice came out uneven as I explained, “No, General Marlowe is fetching me some.”

Matthias didn’t fully stand as he twisted his neck to look at the buffet table. Turning back to me, he half-smiled.

“So she is,” he said, but he didn’t leave even when Isa marched past him to set my dessert in front of me.

She didn’t stay, despite the irritated look I shot her, giving me a patronizing smile as she quietly warned me to “be nice.”

“Which one is your favorite?” Matthias asked, and I looked up at him, thoroughly confused by his casual demeanor. Most of the other entrants could barely look at me, let alone find the nerve to talk to me, and Matthias had been the last I’d expected after my outburst earlier in the courtyard.

Plucking a chocolate macaron from his plate, he held it up as if studying its construction. “I’m rather fond of these, personally. I’ve never had them before. Are they unique to Arenysen?”

My confusion deepened.

I was basically ignoring the male, yet he didn’t seem perturbed in the slightest, even carrying on with the conversation by himself.

“They’re called macarons,” I said, glad the angst had disappeared from my tone. “Our chef’s recipe. The strawberry cream ones are even better than the chocolate.” I watched as the general placed the whole confection in his mouth and ate it in one bite.

Swallowing, he licked his lips, and I tried not to let my gaze drift to his mouth.

“Would pair perfectly with a brandy,” he said.

I stilled.

Brennan had always teased me for preferring the woody-sweet liquor—said it was a drink for bachelors and crotchety old warriors. Frustration built in my chest, growing into a low growl that I barely suppressed. If Matthias noticed my poor reaction, he hid it well.

I didn’t want to get to know these males, and I certainly didn’t want to have anything in common with them. This tournament and the resulting union were nothing more than a formal arrangement for the sole purpose of keeping the crown. This wasn’t about affection; this was politics.

It’s not like he’s asking you to dance or offering you a glass of brandy, Calla.

He’s just talking to you.

And that was precisely the problem.

I couldn’t stay here and make small talk with him.

Or with anyone.

The music. The conversations. The lit chandeliers and the elaborate feast.

It was too much, too familiar.

“Excuse me,” I said, pushing my chair back from the table and standing. I didn’t know where I was going or what I was doing, but I spun around and forced my feet to carry me across the ballroom.

Each step, though, seemed to lead me back into my grief, deeper and deeper as I tried to retreat.

My breathing shallowed, my chest tightened, and the room spun out of focus.

This might not have been a lavish affair like that night, but it was the first time we had entertained any guests since…

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