Page 5 of Earth Dragon
No, that inner voice said sternly.Any such foolishness would have seemed even more of a lie in his eyes.
As underlined by her not wanting to escape had made him ever more suspicious of her. If he knew why she had no intention of leaving, then perhaps…
But no. She would not broach the subject of her past with him. Not when he would only view it as a play for sympathy. He would probably accuse her of lying about the events that had brought her into the middle of what happened in Fawha.
And perhaps he would be right in any accusation he made of her.
Had she not chosen?
She straightened her back, annoyed by her slumping shoulders. Yes, she had made choices. It hadn’t all been dictated to her. She hadn’t only been following orders, so she couldn’t place blame elsewhere. She was to blame. She should carry the accusations without having them bend her back.
And yet, she couldn’t stop the disappointment.
She had thought he would grant her the benefit of the doubt.
There was no way out for her. She was truly a prisoner.
And he had not been lying when he had told her she would never be left alone. The only place that seemed a place of respite were her rooms, with the doors locked tight and her two guards standing outside. She was never to wander the castle alone.
So, when she—a few hours later—walked into the dining room, those guards were flanking her.
They were two large men who promised to be even larger in dragon shape. They had introduced themselves as Petrus and Eric, both proving themselves to be quiet, surly, and suspicious. She wondered if she would be able to pull a smile out of either of them before the evening’s end but figured that perhaps she was better served setting her sights on the king. There was clearly no point even speaking to the prince; he had made his opinion of her being present at dinner perfectly clear.
Ewan was already seated at the table, and when he didn’t even look at her, she welcomed it rather than let it gaud her. She would not be made a fool of. Especially in front of his father.
“My lady,” the king greeted kindly.
He was seated on an elaborate high-backed chair at the head of the table, which was smaller than expected, seating only twenty or so. Ewan had claimed the seat to the king’s left and the king now waved for Shannon to take the chair on his right.
There was a low vase full of freshly cut flowers at the center of it. Their sweet scent circled her head as she sat down, calming her nerves somewhat.
Not that she was nervous.
She glanced at Ewan. He was stubbornly rearranging his silverware, keeping his gaze off her to focus on his unnecessary task.
“I wanted to tell you how lovely I find your castle, your majesty,” she said to the king.
His eyes crinkled with a pleased smile. “Thank you, my dear. Have you gotten the chance to explore?”
“Father,” Ewan said, a stern note in his tone as he glared at the king, his gaze on Shannon the following moment. He’d clearly forgotten himself and had not meant to grant her any attention, taking his eyes off her within the span of a breath.
A frown appeared between his brows, as he went back to tinkering with his knives and forks.
“I have not,” she admitted to the king. “I spent the afternoon cleaning myself as best I could. There was no tub.”
“Nor will there be,” Ewan stated tartly. “This is not a sanctuary where you’ve come to rest and restore yourself after your treachery.”
“Ewan,” the king said, actually sounding surprised at his son’s bluntness. “That’s quite enough of that. Apologize to the lady.”
“She is no lady,” Ewan muttered, his eyes on hers, this time lingering there.
“It’s quite alright, sire,” Shannon assured the king, placing her hand on his arm with a warm smile. “The prince has every right to decide the level of my comfort. Or, rather, my discomfort. He’s earned it.”
She looked back at Ewan, wondering why it was that she couldn’t simply stay demure and penitent. If she could play that part instead and keep her gaze lowered to the ground, keep her hands clasped in front of her and not speak out of turn, then perhaps he would begin to see her differently. But she could not, especially when he so readily towered over her without understanding that there was much more to the equation than what he had seen in Fawha. Without being willing to listen.
Not that she would even know where to begin.
He would only hate her more than he already did.
