Page 54 of Of Rime and Ruin
I smooth my hair, retie the knot, and press my hands flat to the table.
Anxiety swirls in my gut, and I chase it with hot tea.
Should I practice? If I know what I’m going to say to her, it won’t be so hard in the moment.
I clear my throat, testing a few options. Then I nudge the mug, centering it before me, as a stand-in for the princess.
“Hey there, Princess.” My voice is whiny and strained. The mug says nothing. Will she say nothing? Or will she lob more insults? Sweat prickles my scalp.
“Uh, sorry I thought you were a spy. I can see now you’re too delicate for that. Are you hungry? Cold? Well, there’s food here. And I got you a cloak. I don’t have it here though. It’s in my room. I could show you later.”
I drop my face into my palms before it can get worse. What the fuck was that? Why did I mention the cloak? I hid it in my wardrobe for good reason.
It’s not for her.
That cloak was a lapse in judgment, and I will return it in the morning.
With a long pull of tea, I wet my throat and try again. This time, I turn the mug, so the handle faces me. Kind of like a nose.
“Hi. Hope you’re hungry,” I croak. “This is me, admitting I’m a jackass. Friends?”
Fuck no.
Friends?
What kind of line is that?
I drop my forehead to the table and thump it a few times. This. Will. Not. Do.
I should send for that damn frostcat cloak. She’s a female. Females like gifts. It might help—
“And then say what, asshole?” I counter my thoughts, twisting my voice into a mockery of itself. “I wondered if I gave you this cloak, you could stay here with me and stop flirting with all my guards.”
That’s it. I’m officially losing my mind.
I push out of my chair, and its legs scrape on the floor. One foot before the other, I pace.
Where is she?
I make three turns about the room before I hear Perrin. I strain my ears to listen for a companion.
He comes alone.
I ball my fists and clench my teeth. The knot of rage in my stomach threatens to burst.
When he appears in the doorway, it takes all my strength not to glare.
His voice is soft. Scared. “She’s not coming. I’m sorry, Sire. She said she’s not hungry.”
Not hungry?
When last I saw her, she complained of me starving her. She called me a bad host. What the fuck does she meannot hungry?
“Not hungry?” My resolve breaks. The ice pierces my veins, and the scales crawl.
Perrin trembles, trying hard to hold his ground. Deirdre appears behind him. She steps in front of the youngling, shielding him with her body.
“Your Majesty, deep breaths,” she cautions. “I have your snack here. Let’s eat, okay?”
