Otto raised his hand towards the man. “Ariana, this is Gaius, one of my longest-serving knights.”
“I am pleased to meet you,” she said, smiling. Perhaps Gaius would inspire some conversation in which she could participate. She would feel so much more comfortable if she could talk and laugh with another.
“You, too, my lady.” His blue eyes were crinkled with sincerity, but no sooner had he settled himself than Otto turned to bring him into conversation with Angus.
Ariana’s spirits sank.
Althalos, who was seated at her left, leaned closer. “You are not eating, my lady. Allow me to assist you.”
Ariana steeled herself not to flinch away from the sourness of his breath. “I have little appetite,” she replied, honestly.
It was the wrong thing to say. Althalos quirked an eyebrow. “Perhaps the Darkmoor kitchens are not as well equipped as those you are accustomed to?”
His words met their mark, but she cleared her throat and spoke to him levelly. “I believe you know that is not true, Sir Althalos.”
Her brutal honesty made Althalos choke on a mouthful of food, and her lips twitched into a smile, but she regretted her impulsive words almost immediately. Her husband’s uncle was an unpleasant man; it would not do to make an enemy out of him.
“On the contrary,” she continued, “it is the case that I am unaccustomed to such rich and wonderful foodstuffs.” She waved her hand over the laden tabletop which groaned with roasted meats.
“Perhaps you would prefer a bowl of broth?” Althalos suggested drily.
“Indeed, I would.”
She had not counted on the hovering page who scampered off to the kitchen to repeat her request; one that surely would not endear her to either the servants or the household.
How could she ask for mere broth when she was seated in such company?
Her spirits plummeted further when their handsome guest, Angus de Neville, gave her a quick glance over the rim of his goblet. What must he think of her?
What must Otto think of her?
Ariana folded her hands in her lap and looked down, avoiding further conversation. When a bowl of steaming broth was placed before her, she surprised herself by sniffing hungrily, tempted by the simple fare.
She met Otto’s eye as she picked up her spoon and he treated her to another slight smile. Small comfort, but there nonetheless.
The vegetable broth was quite tasty. Ariana found herself relaxing in her high-backed chair. Gradually the chatter in the great hall resumed to its earlier levels. She was a novelty no longer. Within days, hopefully her presence on the dais would warrant no comment.
A fearsomely tall, broad-shouldered man made his way up the steps of the dais to speak to Otto, his thunderous footsteps making the ground beneath them shake. She watched from the corner of her eye as the men conversed; one warrior to another. The new man’s thighs, encased in breeches, were as wide as tree trunks. No wonder the might of Darkmoor was feared far and wide, with men such as this to fight for it.
No wonder the druids had crumbled so quickly.
With shaking fingers, Ariana placed her spoon carefully in her bowl, but she could do little to stem the tide of memory. She heard Merek’s voice as if he was speaking directly into her ear.
“But for Otto’s return, your aunt would likely have been killed.”
Was this giant of a man one of those responsible for plundering the druid camp and taking Ysmay prisoner? Whathope would those peaceful people have had against such a brute?
She tried to swallow down her last mouthful of broth but found herself choking. One cough, then another. Her hand went to her throat as her chair scraped back and Ariana struggled to catch her breath. In seconds, Otto came to her aid.
“What is it?” he enquired; heavy brows knitted together. “Here, drink this.”
Ariana clutched at the goblet and desperately gulped down the wine, which washed down the stubborn broth. Her sides heaved as her breathing returned to normal.
“Thank you,” she managed.
“Take a moment,” he advised.
The eyes of Darkmoor were upon her once again. Ariana grew even hotter with the realization she had acquitted herself badly. She wanted to leave now, before anything else could go wrong, but Otto was already righting her chair and guiding her into it.
