Page 17 of The Artist
“Nothing,” Indiana said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It’s just a misunderstanding.”
When it came to facing an outsider like Victor, Mason instantly supported Indiana. “He’s right, it’s nothing for you to worry about.”
Victor was too smart to be fooled and narrowed his eyes. “Were you hoping to convince her to marry you?” He addressed his question to Mason.
“Who, me?” Mason planted a palm on his chest and jerked his head back.
“Yes. I heard you say that we French don’t marry anyone. Did Belle turn you down?”
The amusement in Victor’s tone irked me. The man had always felt that his genius was superior to the rest of us and he’d made it more than clear that he didn’t think a domestic citizen like me was worthy of representing our nation.
Mason lowered his gaze to me. “Hardly. Belle is way too small for someone my size. I would split her in two.”
Feeling humiliated, I pressed my lips together while my cheeks heated up and probably matched the bright red dress I had on.
“Then what was your argument about?” Victor asked insistently. When none of the Nmen would answer him, he turned to me. “Belle?”
“No one wanted to marry me. You heard them yourself last night. They’re royal and must marry purebred Northlanders.” My words were pointed as I was offended by Mason’s comment that I was too small. He’d made it sound like I was a child when I was in fact taller than the average woman back in Old Europe.
Rocking back on his heels, Victor smirked. “That’s not possible. There aren’t enough purebred Northlanders.”
“It’s a political thing,” Indiana explained. “Nmen of the older generation feel have ruined much of our culture. There have been demands that the Motlanders who moved here should adapt to our ways instead of changing us. Last week, a vegan shop that opened in Kingstown was burned down within its first week. And when a group of Motlander women campaigned online for a ban on the physical punishment of children, they were met by an angry pushback. We’ve gained much by welcoming more than two million women from the Motherlands over the last twenty-eight years. But it hasn’t been all rosy. That’s why it’s crucial to Khan and Magni that their children marry someone who understands our culture. Someone who was born here.”
Victor held a hand to my elbow. “I see what you mean. How about we take our unclean French blood to another part of the room?”
We’d taken a few steps when Jones spoke up. “Belle.”
I stiffened and Victor turned his head.
“My parents don’t care about where my wife comes from and I would be honored if…”
Victor cut him off. “Thank you but Mason was right when he said that we French don’t marryanyone.”
I didn’t look back or say anything when Victor moved me to a high table with snacks and drinks. Victor wasn’t my friend and we had nothing in common except our place of birth.
“Here.” He pushed a glass of something red into my hand. “Don’t mind those orcs. I’m sure they believe the rumors that we’re inbred and carry defect DNA.”
I stood with the glass in one hand and my other arm folded protectively across my stomach.
“Tell me, Belle…” Victor lowered his voice. “Did you ever sleep with one of them?”
I frowned. “Did you?”
“Ha! You know it’s impossible to get close to their women without one of their giant men spewing fire. It’s ridiculous how prudish they are when it comes to something as mundane as sex. But you didn’t answer my question. From Mason’s rude reaction, I reckon he hasn’t slept with you, but what about Thor or Indiana? They’re handsome in their mountain man way, I suppose.”
“I haven’t slept with any of them.”
“Hmm. I think Sophie did that second year when we hosted for the first time.”
“She did?” Sophie had been seventeen back then.
He shrugged. “It’s just a suspicion.”
“Do you know with whom?”
“I’m not sure, but I’m guessing it was Mason or Indiana since Thor was only fourteen at the time. She gave pretty clear hints of having been intimate with one of them.”
“Well,Ihaven’t.”
