Page 25 of The Blood that Binds Us

Bennett stands as I approach, flashing that toothy smile and quickly appraising my vivid blue dress with the less than modest hemline. He wears a fitted velvet coat of cobalt blue with silver threading embellishing the pockets and shoulders. I suddenly dislike the dress I wear, noting the similar color pattern between our attires, and force a return smile around clenched teeth, silently cursing the Black Art who undoubtedly intended for me to be dressed in what are apparently Langston’s signature house colors.

He bows at the waist and reaches for my hand, brushing his lips across the backs of my knuckles. “It’s lovely to see you again, Lady Wren.”

I smile with forced warmness, knowing it doesn’t meet my eyes.

“I brought us dinner. I admit I didn’t make it, but I did request my favorite cook in our home prepare it, and I insisted she bake jam puffs. I will accept full credit for that.” He picks up the woven basket from the bench and holds it up for my appraisal. “There’s a spot just over there with a great view of the Malachite.”

“Lead the way, my Lord,” I say, angling myself in the direction he pointed.

During our meeting in the war room this morning, I learned the Langstons reside at Castle Summerswind, the second largest dwelling in Blackreach, next only to Scarwood. It is still strange for me to hear someone refer to something as magnificent as a castle ashome,as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.

I follow Bennett down another alley, past the shops selling exuberant goods and rarities, to a wooden pergola with a slatted roof, vines entwined through the lattice top in a touch of decorative greenery. A vase filled with red roses and bay leaf branches sits on the center of the cloth covered table. As promised, the open vastness of the Malachite River is visible from the pergola, no storefronts or houses between us and where the flowing current brushes shoulders with the city.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” I say with mock enthusiasm, knowing damn well it was servants that clipped these roses and set up this space.

“You like it?” Bennett’s eyes light up as if he is truly pleased with himself for doing the bare minimum.

“Of course. It is very sweet, thank you.”Did I just flutter my eyes?

“Sit, sit,” he ushers, pulling out the chair closest to us.

Smoothing my dress around my backside, I sit in the pulled-out chair, and Bennett begins unloading the contents of the basket. Thick slices of bread, still warm from the oven judging from the sweet, yeasty aroma coming off them, strips of salted meat, an assortment of freshly cut cheeses, cubes of fruit, decadent jam puffs, and a bottle of wine. He pours us each a glass of the red drink and drops a few berries from the spread of fruit into both our glasses.

“So, tell me about your family. What is it your folks do to earn their keep?”

I grab a slice of bread and layer it with some of the meat and cheeses. “My parents own an inn. Nothing much, but we live comfortably enough, for Innodell.” The half-truth rolls off my tongue with rehearsed ease. Mentioning I am estranged from my parents would provoke too many questions, so best to fabricate that little detail.

“And is that what you do as well? Work at the inn?”

“Yes, I help them manage it. I quite enjoy it.”

Bennett purses his lips as he skewers a piece of fruit with his fork, and for a moment, I wonder if he has ever visited Innodell, or if he thinks it too modest of a town for someone of his stature to be seen in.

“Such a pity,” he says, popping the piece of melon into his mouth.

“Pardon?”

“I just don’t think someone who has been blessed with such beauty should have to hide it behind an inn counter.”

I know he intends for the comment to flatter me, but his condescension of working class turns the food to lead in my stomach. “I don’t mind it one bit, actually.”

He reaches a hand towards me and thumbs a strand of loose hair behind my ear. I will myself not to smack it away.

“You’re very beautiful, Wren. You could use that to advantage yourself, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

Bennett shrugs his shoulders as if forcing casualness. “There are several lords looking to wed. Women with your… attributes… are heavily desired.”

“Attributes?”

He laughs softly to himself and fixes me with his gaze, his blue eyes darkening as he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Let’s just say I don’t think you’d have a lick of trouble finding a suitor. You’d never have to find yourself behind an inn counter again.” Lines crease in his forehead as if even the image of it repulses him.

“I find pleasure in the work.”

“Wed a lord and you’ll find all sorts of pleasures, Lady Wren.”

My name sounds foreign on his tongue, like it doesn’t belong. He stands and slides his chair around the table so that he sits next to me. Slowly, he reaches out and traces little circles across my knee and down my calf with his index finger.Oh, hell no.I’ll bat my eyelashes at the Langston boy and let him feed me my fill of jam puffs, but no one is touching me. Sin sent me here with strict orders to pry into Bennett’s collective and search for any secrets the elite family may be hiding. He said nothing of having to get toofriendlywith him. Maybe only because he knows I would have refused, or maybe because the Black Art possesses some morals after all, but the reason doesn’t matter. I clear my throat pointedly and cross my leg over the other one, pulling it from his reach.

---