Page 6 of Earth Dragon
The thought made her swallow, though she kept eye contact with him stubbornly.
“Yes, I have earned it,” he bit, leaning back a little as a servant came to deliver the first plate of food. A bowl of soup as a starter. He didn’t touch the soup spoon, merely glared at her through the steam. “And you have earned the dirt and filth that will collect on your body as you go weeks without washing.” He held up a hand as the king drew breath to speak again. “No, father,” he interrupted, continuing with his gaze still on Shannon. “You have not come here to be comfortable. You do know this.”
She clenched her teeth, her annoyance at being talked down to giving way for the fact that he was right.
“Yes,” she said. “I do know it.”
She rose to her feet before she could reconsider. She was starving, and the soup smelled delicious, but what was she doing at their table? The king was only treating her with respect because of the debt that was owed to her father, not because she deserved it.
Because she didn’t.
“Excuse me,” she said. “I shall eat in my rooms from now on.”
With that, she headed for the door, her guards flanking her. Their presence should feel humiliating, but they almost felt like a safety net. Who knew what plots were being drawn up against her within the walls of the castle? Who knew what hatred was harbored for her and the scheme she had been a part of?
It cut her to realize that, despite her hope that perhaps this place would offer her some respite, as a professed traitor she wasn’t safe here. She wasn’t safe anywhere.
She had gotten as far as the top of the steps leading from the entrance hall and to the second floor when Ewan’s voice calling her name stopped her.
He came to a halt a few steps below her, head tilted up to her.
His green eyes were expressive in ways she’d never seen in any other man. They switched between moods like water around a rock, easy and full of mirth one moment to grow contemplative and calm the next.
The sharpness of his jaw, the light stubble and that mouth of his with lips that were broad and yet full—she had missed his face. The realization was sharp within her, like a nail hammered harshly into a piece of wood. She didn’t want it there, but there it would now stay. She didn’t have the tools to remove it.
When he spoke, his words were measured, as though he didn’t want to say them. “Will you, please, return to the table, my lady?”
His father had sent him. She cocked an eyebrow. “Why?” she asked.
His face darkened. It was satisfying to see it. “Because your soup is getting cold,” he replied, a soft spark of amusement in his gaze that suddenly made her hearts feel light. It reminded her of their very first meeting on the docks, when she had hooked her arm with his and made him laugh. That memory was inconvenient in the truest sense of the word, however, and so she simply shook her head at him.
“Your father asked you to apologize to me,” she said, emboldened by the fact that he was now clearly on the king’s mission to claim her forgiveness and bring her back to her seat.
The amusement evaporated, a warning replacing it. “My father wasn’t there,” Ewan said sharply. “I was. I saw how close you were to that snake Sir Patrick. How long had you known Leon before he approached you to join his little gambit?”
She shook her head again. The fool really had no clue, did he? How big the gambit truly was. She wanted to tell him then. Everything that she knew, even though she was certain there was so much more to it that even she had no clue about. She would have all that pent up information spill out of her.
But she couldn’t.
“A while,” she lied instead.
“And getting close to me was part of it,” he said.
“No,” she replied quickly, the protest in the word so loud it echoed gently through the entrance hall. His eyes had widened a little, surprise in his expression. She knew she wore the same one, taken aback at how loudly the word had come out. Lowering her voice she added, “It wasn’t at all a part of it. I enjoyed our walks.”
She had hoped he would soften, but instead his expression hardened. She’d only incriminated herself further by seeming to use their time together as a manipulation tactic to get him to trust her now. There was no winning here. She had to accept it.
“I don’t,” she said, unable to have him believe the absolute worst of her, no matter how much he most likely would not put any stock in the truth she was about to share.
“You don’t what?” he asked.
“Believe the Houses should be undone,” she said earnestly. “Or that the bloodlines should end. The elemental magic made it clear through Malcolm that they choose—they’re not chosen. They can’t be reined in or held captive against their own natural flow with all things.” She paused, growing thoughtful. Should she push her luck? She decided she might as well, now that she had his ear. She finished, “I was fed lies for so long that I began to believe them, just like every other follower of the great salvation.”
He did not look convinced. “Then why did you say earlier that you—?”
“Because you were looking at me like I was to be despised,” she answered. “I thought I shouldn’t let you down again, now that you’d reformed your once good opinion of me.”
“So, you lied? Again?” he asked.
