Page 48 of Partnering with the Artist

“Promise?” I whisper.

“I promise. As long as you don’t make a public scene, he’s not gonna think any less of either of us, no matter what we do.”

Unconvinced, I still say, “…okay.”

Chapter 17

?

That’s it. I’m boycotting family dinners.

Zakery

Well then. Call me a liar.

Viktor, actually, appears to care quite a bit about my non-existent love life, judging by the way he’s broodily staring at Maelin and me. It’s rude of him, honestly, and I think Crisis knows it, because she stabs him in the ribs with her elbow.

“Yes, sweet pea?” he asks, continuing to watch me.

My amazing soon-to-be-sister beams. “Pass the butter?”

The fool picks up the butter dish, ignorant to the butter knife balancing atop it. As he moves the dish toward Crisis, that knife falls, hits the spoon leaning precariously in the mixed veggies, and sends a rain of carrots, peas, and green beans over his fiancée.

Who.

You know.

Shakes them out of her dark hair, takes the butter, retrieves the knife, and says, “Thank you.”

Beside me, Maelin—who I have been guarding like crazy in Crisis’s vicinity—gapes.

Viktor, no longer staring at us, says, “I’m so sorry, Crisis. Are you okay?”

Having the tact of a freight train, Kyran rolls his eyes, saws into his brisket with the side of his fork, and says, “What is going on?”

I point my fork at Crisis. “Our beloved almost-sister is taking baths in her food again. Aren’t you paying attention?”

That earns me a solid glare. “Ithoughtwe valued communication in this house.”

Kaleb, ever the observant one among us, murmurs, “Kyran…some things can’t be talked about in front of some people.”

Maelin shrinks.

And that pisses me off.

Kyran mutters, “That’s stupid. Why are we having dinner with people if we can’t talk in front of them?”

“Brother dear,” I say, smiling daggers, “shut up.”

“It doesn’t help anyone to keep anything pent up inside.” Kyran’s eyes narrow. “That’s how people wind up likeyou.”

Dropping my fork and knife on my plate with a clatter, I stand. “Okay. Well, dinner has beendelightful.” I turn to Maelin. “Would you like more of anything, princess?”

Stiff, terrified, she shakes her head.

I scoop a bit more of everything onto her plate, grab it and her silverware, then step away from the table. “We’ll finish upstairs.”

“No eating in your room,” Viktor states.

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