Page 31 of Oracle of Ruin

A quick glance around the room shows that everyone has a knife—everyone except for me.

“Can I borrow your knife?” I try and nudge Neris’s side, spearing the tough meat with my fork for emphasis.

Neris raises a single eyebrow and tightens her grip on the blade. “Can I trust you not to stab anyone with it?”

“Yes.”

“Honestly?”

“No.” I slink lower in my chair.

Neris barks out a laugh while Emi lets out a droll sigh. The general slides my plate towards herself using a fork, creating a gods-awful screeching sound that reverberates through the room. She slices my breakfast into thin ribbons before handing it back with a wink. I roll my eyes but accept it, nonetheless.

I take a bite of the savory meat. Its rich flavor coats my tongue and some of the juice drips down my chin. I swallow a moan with the bite, determined not to make a greater spectacle of myself. Some of the knights stifle their laughter as I’m sure my eyes have all but rolled into the back of my head. I’m usually not even a major fan of meat, but it has been so long since I’ve had anything this delicious. Not even in the palace did the food taste this good.

The taste turns to ash in my mouth as Mavis walks through the door with a small smile. The sight shouldn’t send shivers down my spine, but it does. When Mavis smiles, someone either has died already or they are about to.

Silence envelopes the room within a breath of her entrance. With the prowl of an apex predator, she stalks towards the empty seat next to Neris’s and pulls it back, the wooden legs not daring to make a sound against the stone floor. Even inanimate objects fear her presence, I note, with only a tinge of sarcasm in my internal monologue. That voice in my head has been witty and sharp recently, and the last thing I need is for my internal voice to become external and get me killed.

The mercenary pulls a crimson napkin out from under her plate and walks over to gently dab the mess I’ve made of my face. Her hand stills over my lips, a teasing glint in her eye. “The food is to your liking, pureblood?”

“You ask as if it wasn’t already obvious.”

“I want to please you. If it isn’t to your liking, then I’ll need to chop the chef’s hands off, and that would make an unfortunate mess of the kitchen.”

I flinch, but no one else seems to react to what she says. If anything, I think I hear someone laughing at the other end of the table. “You’re sick.”

“We’ve covered that already,” Mavis replies smoothly, lowering her hand and retreating to her seat. She locks her gaze on mine, her hand reaching for her crystal glass. She takes a long sip, rolling the flavor over her tongue, all while staring at me over the lip of the cup. Her gaze softens to my glare and she breaks the stare to address the room. “Good gods, who died?” she barks out before digging into her own meal.

I’m not sure how that is supposed to be funny, but the whole room erupts with laughter, chasing away the silence that had thickened the air. The atmosphere feels almost familial, like what I imagine dinner in the knights’ quarters to feel like. They always seemed so tightly knit. A sudden pang pierces my heart as I wonder what happened to them. To Seb and Torin, or that young healer who healed Blaine against the king’s wishes the day of his duel. Are they nothing but casualty statistics now?

As if noticing the shift in my demeanor, Neris clears her throat and places her hand on my thigh. I jolt but stop when I feel the cold steel through my pants.

I pick up the knife with reverential hands. It is a thin and intricately carved dagger—not a dinner knife, but a real knife.

“Just don’t stab anyone, please,” she whispers with forced weariness.

Unable to help myself, I laugh, the intruding sound forcing its way through my lips as I accept the blade. “You’re a horrible kidnapper.”

“Smutty books, pretty daggers. We do it all here,” she offers with a wink before turning back to her own breakfast.

Mavis quirks an eyebrow upwards with a sly smile but says nothing. The atmosphere returns to its previous joviality, and I feel the tightness in my chest subside just a bit.

“I can’t believe you snuck out. Do you know how much trouble I’m in?” Emi protests loudly, drawing out her ire as she stabs at her breakfast.

A few of the seasoned soldiers and other people at the table chuckle under their breath.

Mavis clicks her tongue. “Not enough trouble if you’re still whining.”

“What’s your punishment?” I ask with a shiver. The feeling of Argon’s severed hand releasing my arm on my first night here comes to mind. A quick once-over reveals that Emi still has all of her limbs and other extremities. Relief washes over me, strong enough that my shoulders slump over.

“Kitchen duty for a week!” She falls back against her chair with dramatic flair. Her freckled face flushes as she throws herself down.

“Enough of the dramatics.” Mavis rubs her temple with her thumb and forefinger.

“When I snuck past the royal guard, Blaine used to make them run laps around the palace with their swords raised. They weren’t allowed to stop or lower them until he said so.”

Mavis’s lips peel back wickedly at the same time that Emi shudders. “I like him,” the mercenary purrs.

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