Page 47 of Of Song and Scepter
I reach for the fish eagerly, tearing into the meat.
With a flourish, he skewers a piece of roasted fish with his fork, then lifts it to his mouth. Seasoning dribbles down his chin. His red tongue swipes out and collects the juice.
I glance down at my plate, ignoring the warmth spiraling through my stomach at the sight of his tongue.
Odissa eyes my meal with longing, pinching her fork between her fingers, angling it to stab efficiently at the roasted flesh on her plate.
She gulps down some ale to chase the charred fish. “What do you like about this place?”
He leans back in his chair, the picture of a male at ease. A lopsided grin spreads across his face, and his eyes light up. A stray curl falls across his forehead, caught in a ray of lamplight.
“It feels real,” he says. “Every now and then, I like to come here and remind myself that there’s more to this world than marble walls and elaborate feasting.” He waves a hand to the room. “I’m sure you understand. Palace life can be constricting.”
“Yes,” she says. “Of course.”
Odissa takes another long drag of her ale, finishing it with gentle flourish. I tear another piece of meat with my teeth. Odissa’s fork connects with an empty spot on her plate, grating in an unpleasant shriek. She frowns at it, blinking rapidly as her cheeks stain pink.
“You okay there?” the prince asks.
Odissa stabs again, this time successfully snagging a bite. She chews slowly, her eyes slightly unfocused.
Shit.
“Your Highness?” I say, lightly touching her hand.
“Hmm?” She opens her eyes to glare at me, her gaze watery. While Odissa could easily keep up with me at the bar in Vespyr, there’s no telling what the limit is for her borrowed body. We may have found it already.
The prince is staring at us, those green eyes sharply focused.
Odissa glances down at her plate, searching for something. “Oh, goddess,” she whispers, attempting to stab with her fork once more. I squeeze her wrist, removing the weapon from her grip.
“Does Her Highness usually get drunk this easily?” He moves his fork out of her reach.
I shrug, studying her face. Odissa’s forehead prickles with sweat. She reaches for her mug, tilting it to peer into its empty well. I panic under the prince’s watchful gaze. When Odissa drinks too much, she gets sobby and prone to spilling her guts, and I can think of at least one secret this prince can never know.
“I’m out of the drink,” Odissa says. Then, to my horror, she laughs to herself. “Out of the Drink!”
I snatch the mug from her hand.
She pouts, then scrabbles her hands across the table to grasp onto his wrist. “Your Highness.Soren, darling. I require the ladies’ room. As it seems, my handmaid is… too drunk to accompany me, would you do me”—she hiccups—“the honor?” She blinks her eyes rapidly, drawing attention to her fluttering eyelashes.
“Of course,” he says, lifting his hand. I wait for him to stand up and escort her, but he stays firmly planted in his seat. Footsteps approach, and the guard moves to stand behind Odissa. “Please assist Her Highness.”
Her lips tighten, but she nods and stands. She pins me with a watery look. “No more ale for you,” she says, hiccupping again.
I show her my sharp fangs, but she’s not as impressed with them as I am. With a sigh, I push up from my seat. I should assist her, make sure she doesn’t spill her guts to the guard in the ladies’ room.
But the prince leans over the table, reaching out to stop me. “Enna,” he says. My heart flutters at the sound of my name falling from his lips. “Stay.”
Chapter twenty-nine
Soren
Enna can hold herdrink much better than the princess. She stares at me with narrowed eyes, scowling.
I’m determined to crack her hardened shell, to draw out my wicked dancer I met on the beach. “How’s the fish?” I ask.
Her mouth curls up, and I stare at her lips, willing them to curve the rest of the way into a smile. But she doesn’t smile. She just shrugs and says, “Better than the chef’s.”
