Page 45 of A Storm in Every Heart
“What is it?” I ask, my voice sounding slightly choked.
“My father sent me to find you. It’s time to return to dinner.”
I run a frustrated hand over the back of my neck. “Yes. Fine, let’s go.”
I automatically hold out an arm to her, but Lyra doesn’t move. Instead, she looks curiously at the Vernalli girl. My heartbeat kicks up again, and I find myself turning to watch them with renewed interest.
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen two Fae women who looked less alike. Lyra is tall and willowy with fair skin like her father and straight black hair that she must have inherited from her mother. She’s undoubtedly beautiful in her own right, but it’s hardly her fault that the Vernalli girl looks like the paintings of sirens in my father’s study.
“Forgive me. I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” Lyra says, finally breaking the tense silence.
I hold my breath as I watch the girl’s eyes dart around, like she’s trying to find an exit. Finally, she turns to Lyra and curtseys, tilting her chin toward the floor. “Forgive me. It’s my fault, my lady.”
I choke.
That’s the reaction I was expecting her to give me when she first walked into the hall…so why should Lyra get the respect I was denied?
I don’t understand this at all, and I hate that I want nothing more than to figure it out. Figureherout.
“What’s your name?” Lyra asks finally.
“Odessa,” the girl says, with the tiniest hint of bitterness in her tone.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Odessa,” Lyra says tonelessly.
“Not ‘lady,’” the girl corrects.
“Duchess, then?” I guess, cocking my head.
“No,” Odessa shakes her bouncing curls. “I have no title. Now, excuse me, I’ll leave you two alone.”
She bobs a half-hearted curtsy, which I swear feels sarcastic, and walks away without a single glance back at us.
I feel Lyra’s searching eyes on me as I finally let out the breath I was holding.
I glance at my betrothed, and raise a probing eyebrow at her.
Honestly, I want her to say something about this. Not that I was doing anything inappropriate per se, but most girls would be jealous, right?
I’d take anything—a hint of a reaction. A glimmer of emotion.Anything.
“Well, shall we return to dinner?” Lyra asks flatly.
I nod, only slightly disappointed, and offer her my arm again even as my mind wanders back to Odessa.
I swear, she seemed slightly familiar.
ODESSA, PRESENT
I’ve made a huge mistake.
That’s all I can think as I wait for Kastian to fall asleep so I can slink back upstairs to my room.
It’s all I can think about when I climb into my bed, still half undressed, and it’s all I can think about in the morning, when the sun rises and I’m still wide awake.
I ruminate on my overwhelming stupidity as I bathe and dress, choosing a high-necked gown to cover the obvious bruises on my throat where Kastian sucked on my pulse. Then, I berate myself some more for being so incredibly weak while I pack clothing into a trunk and drag it out into the hallway for the servants to help carry downstairs.
I knew sleeping together wouldn’t break the tension between Kastian and me, and sure enough, I was right. The pulsing need that I’ve been stubbornly ignoring for months now has only magnified, and my self-loathing is at an all-time high.
