Page 60 of Beast and Remedy
Beau tenses, our eyes barely catching before I break my stare, turning to my old friend.
Christine swivels, an arm draping across the back of the chair with a smile. The two girls stand and rush to us as the three men glance warily at each other.
“Vi!” Christine’s high voice sings in my ear when she hugs me, squeezing tight. “You are looking so much better than when you first arrived!”
She stiffens, and I worry I hurt her or something until she adds, “Not to say you looked ugly when you arrived or that I think you are ugly. You are beautiful. I meant to say you look—”
“I know what you meant.” I laugh. “Don’t worry, I feel like I look better too.”
Breaking away, she chuckles, her blonde curls enhancing her youth and sunny disposition. “Much better.”
“I hate to say it, but I agree,” Jules adds as she too pulls away, her black gown a contrast to Christine’s beige one.
My eye roll is instant, and Jules elbows my side. I wince, ribs still sore from this morning.
“Princesses, I must apologize for not offering you an escort,” Beau says as he moves to the right, pulling out two chairs.
Christine brushes off her brother’s comment. “Oh, hush with that nonsense. They clearly remembered the way.” She takes Jules’s hand, interlacing their fingers, and walks to Marcel on the left.
Leo helps himself to his seat on the right side. “She is right, you know,” he comments, his voice deeper than I remember.
“I’m always right,” Christine teases as she reaches the end, kissing Marcel.
Jules touches his bicep before the three get comfortable, and Leo grumbles.
“Please,” Beau’s rich voice calls back, gesturing. “Join us.”
I follow my sister down the right side, my pulse quickening as she settles beside Leo, leaving the last vacant seat closest to the head of the table. To Beau.
He sweeps up my hand and eases me into my chair, his warmth radiating when his thumb rubs my knuckles.
It leaves me touch-starved and achy when he lets go.
I glance at my sister and catch Leo winking at her. Sweet Makers. He still thinks he’s good with flirting, and I wish I could scoff.
Staff enter with more trays, larger and gilded like the rest of the room, and my eyes bulge when the rich spices hit my nostrils.
Holding my stomach, I wait patiently, manners and protocol instinctively kicking in to stifle my animalistic need to gorge. But when I take a bite of a roll, the closest and most delicious thing near me, I let out a low, appreciative moan.
Beau’s knee bumps mine underneath the table, and my eyes shoot open, mouth slack-jawed when I meet his heated stare.
Swallowing quickly, I say, “Thank you for the food. And please thank your staff as well.”
Marian adds, “Torgem has the best food.”
I break away from Beau’s gaze, adding a decent helping of food to my plate. My mouth waters with eager anticipation of the meal, and as I hold my fork, Leo’s baritone voice reaches my ears.
“So, when did you two finally come to the conclusion that my brother wasn’t the one who killed your mother?”
13
The Bear in the Room
My knife scratches against my plate, my jaw clenching as I harness in my terror at Leo’s question silencing the room.
“Leo!” Beau scolds, the venom behind his anger making me flinch as fists hit the table and someone sighs.
I want to look up, I do. But I can’t move. Ican’tface them.
