Page 21 of Deadwood
I flinched, quickly averting my eyes back to my feet, but not before noticing Bowen’s brows inch together in skepticism. He didn’t move his gaze from me, and I knew that pissed my father off more than he already was, seeing me speaking to him.
“My apologies,” I whispered before moving to walk around him.
I wasn’t sure if Bowen continued walking once I was out of his way, too afraid of the repercussions to look back and check.
Humiliation ran its way up my spine, only solidifying the fact that I didn’t want to sit through another dinner or paste a smile on my face in front of kings that looked at me like I was more a courtesan than a Tenere.
All the magic I’d been using the past week caught up to me, the emotions I typically kept carefully tucked away threatening to overflow and show themselves.
I inhaled deeply through my nose, then out my mouth as I did when I needed to hide how I felt. It did little to ease my mind, but it worked wonders on the rock lodged in my throat.
I made it to my room and worked my hair into two flawless braids, then looped them to create a makeshift bun at the back of my head. The shorter pieces in the front frayed out, but if I used water, they’d only get frizzier, so I did my best to twirl the strands around my finger to shape them, tugging a few times.
I gave myself a quick once-over in the mirror, running my hands down my bodice. The whites around my green eyes were slightly bloodshot from the strain of my magic the past few days. It was a normal reaction, but nonetheless, I hoped no one at the dinner took notice.
If they did, it’d be easy to excuse it as sleep deprivation, so long as they didn’t look too far into why I might be losing sleep.
Knowing there was nothing I could do besides pinch some pink into my cheeks, I headed back down to the dining room to find everyone was already seated and eating. The food smelled lovely—an array of pigeon, imported chicken, and pork chops laid out on the table among various greens and a few potato dishes. It was a waste of food, given that my father’s guests never ate it all. They didn’t need all these options, especially if trade between the other kingdoms was getting to be as bad as it seemed to be. We depended on the others for specific goods. While Amosite produced various types of magic, we weren’t strong in other areas like farming, lumber, or weaponry. So if Sulphur was cutting our food supply, it’d be wise for us to conserve our stock of it. At least, I’d think so.
I took a seat on the side closest to my father and set my napkin on my lap. Though the food smelled delicious, my stomach was currently sour, giving me no desire to eat. My eyes scanned the room. Aside from Sulphur’s leaders, everyone was in attendance—monarchs from Torbernite, Feldspar and Amosite. And, somewhat to my surprise, Lander was even here, too.
“The food is magnificent,” King Pleum from Feldspar spoke up. He and his wife both wore Feldspar’s color—ivory. They both had long, rich brunet hair, and while King Pleum’s was tied in a neat knot at the base of his skull, Queen Pleum’s cascaded down her back in luscious waves, showcasing her sharp features and natural beauty from the plumpness of her lips to the crisp edge of her cheekbones.
“My chefs are the best in all of Serpentine,” my father bragged. “I pay the spice harvesters a hefty price to get this sort of seasoning. Bland food doesn’t sit well in the stomach, as you know.”
Queen Pleum grinned, though it didn’t seem very sincere, like all this talk of how much was wasted either brought her some sick delight or made her literally nauseous. I assumed the latter.
“Speaking of payment,” King Pleum started, “let’s hope Sulphur brings back their end of our trade agreement with this marriage being boasted about in front of them. Their attitude toward our treaty due to your wealth does not make me feel good about our ability to get meat and crop for much longer.”
My father waved him off, wiping his mouth on the corner of his crimson napkin. “No need to worry, Desmond. Once Auria and Lander visit Sulphur, they will see how well we are all getting along and uphold their end of the deal. Things will be well again in no time.”
King Pleum nodded with a closed-lip grin, like my father’s words failed to settle an ounce of his concern. All the while, Bowen remained eerily silent from where he was seated at the other end of the table, observing the conversation rather than taking part in it.
So that truly was the problem, then? Other kingdoms were breaking their agreements because they didn’t like how wealthy my father was?
“It is rather unfortunate that we were not able to speak with King Alline further. He had to leave shortly after the ball to return with Patreesa. As we all know, she’s expecting their child soon. But rest assured, all will be as it was before soon enough,” my father assured him.
I looked around the table, finding eyes trained on me—ones that’d barely left my face since I arrived.
Paxon’s.
After a silent dinner while everyone ate, King Pleum finally spoke up again. “It is quite impressive, King Tenere, how much you are producing. How many workers do you have down in those mines, if I may ask?”
My palms grew clammy. Did he know about the cellar, about my magic? I couldn’t bear to look up, but out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Bowen’s attention pique at the subject. I might have missed it if I wasn’t so hyper aware of the way he’d been relaxed in his chair the entire dinner.
The mines were closed, but others didn’t know that. It was a cover-up for the use of my powers.
I didn’t dare meet Paxon’s gaze again to save myself from seeing his damn smirk he’d worn during our last meal. I had no doubt he likely held the same expression tonight, given he’d flashed it my way when I joined them.
“Quite a few,” my father said, excusing the question with his vague response. “They’re all very hard workers, doing what is necessary for their kingdom.”
Servants filed into the room, grabbing empty plates and used cutlery to take them back to the kitchen to be washed. They disappeared as fast as they came, leaving the table clear of everything aside from our glasses of fizzing berry wine. I hadn’t taken a single sip of mine, though I ached to. Alcohol would do wonders for me right now, but the last thing I needed tonight was to slip up in front of these monarchs.
With the meal now over, people stood, King Pleum and his wife coming over to talk to King Bular while my father came around the table to find me. I abandoned my chair as well, making sure to push it back in.
“Did you enjoy your meal?” my father asked, though he sounded more annoyed than curious. The question nearly took me off guard.
“It was delicious.” I’d barely touched the plate.
