My heart races as my hand automatically reaches for the drink, the cup cool in my clammy palm. I meet his eyes over the lip of the glass as I tip it up, noting how they are glassy and how red lines the whites of them. Opening my mouth, I tense in anticipation of the bitter taste, my stomach already churning.But the wine tastes sweeter—fruitier—than before. Almost as if it’s…
I look to the corner of the dining room, where a dark-haired servant is waiting next to a small table that hosts a tray of different glass pitchers. One is clearly full of water, but the other two look identical, as if they are both filled with the same cherry wine. My eyes then flick to where Xander stands at the opposite corner, his hands clasped behind his back. But where the servant kept his gaze down towards the floor, Xander’s eyes meet mine. He gives me a small nod—the move hardly perceptible—and I realize at once, this is him helping me. Because it’s not wine but juice that fills my cup.
“Something wrong with the wine, Lady Rhea?” Simon asks. I take another small gulp of the juice, grateful the magic lets me set the glass down on the table.
The last time the king forced me to drink wine, I had gotten drunk from it. I can’t remember how I acted or what I said, and I hope his intention isn’t to do the same thing tonight, because I’ll have to fake it now that juice fills my cup.
“Nothing at all,” I answer, picking up my fork and stabbing it into a piece of roasted potato.
The rest of the meal proceeds in stilted silence. King Dolian doesn’t speak, hardly moves except to lift his hand for more wine. I watch as the servant chooses the pitcher filled with red liquid on the right and walks over to the king, refilling his cup for the third time since I’ve sat down to eat. As he retreats back to his corner, Simon’s voice halts his steps.
The king’s advisor looks at me, his crooked mouth resembling a smirk. “Lady Rhea, your cup could use a refresh.” The servant’s eyes grow wide for a quick second as he looks at me before he rounds the table behind the king and stops at my side. He keeps his pour steady, despite the nervous energy I can feel wafting off from him.
“Thank you,” I say out of habit, earning a quick glance from the man. As the man attempts to return to his station, King Dolian snaps his hand out and grasps his wrist.
“What did I tell you aboutlookingat her?” he drawls out slowly, the alcohol slurring his speech. The servant keeps his gaze downcast, and when King Dolian stands, clumsily bumping into the table while knocking his chair to the ground, I follow.
“Lady, let the king handle his animals,” Simon says from his chair, his hands clasped beneath his chin.
I ignore him, pleading with my uncle. “It is my fault—”
“He looked at what ismine.”
“Ithanked him for the wine. If you want someone to be mad at, let it be me.”
“You already make meplentyangry, darling,” he snaps back, shoving the servant away as he takes another large drink from his chalice. Then, under his breath, he murmurs, “She always did that too.”
My heart thunders in my chest as I ask, “Who?”
“Luna. She cared about those who shouldn’t have been seen. Who deservednoneof her attention.”
I struggle to find something to say, watching as his gaze fogs over. I know he’s thinking of my mother, running through the memories they had together. But I wonder if his memories of the two of them are tainted by his own greed and lust and anger. When the haze of the past clears and only that of the alcohol remains, his eyes find me again. There is no mistaking the look that’s there now. His cheeks flush red beneath his beard, matching the bloodshot pattern of his eyes. I curl my lip as I look away.
“Simon, has Lady Rhea heard the latest update from the Mage Kingdom?” he snarls.
“No,” Simon answers with a withering smile. “I don’t believe she has.”
“Then let me be the one to tell you,fiancée, of how the precious life you miss so much has devolved since the last time we spoke.” He kicks the chair out of his way and stumbles towards me, wine spilling out of the cup still in his hand. “It appears the mage prince has awoken from his slumber, not ill with health but withmagic.” My breath catches in my throat, and I squeeze the soft, velvety fabric of my dress in my hands. What did he meanill with magic? “But that’s not all. Your most perfect prince also hurt three of the healers that were sent to help him.”
I’m careful to not let my composure slip, biting my lower lip to keep from responding. Nox wouldn’t.He wouldn’t.
“Let us not forget that his sister has been outed as a treasonous wench who sold her body and the kingdom’s secrets to the shifter king,” Simon adds from his seat. I don’t dare look at Xander, not as both of the other men examine me for my reaction. “There is word that they are going to strip the Daxel family of their power.”
“Unless, of course, he agrees to marry someone bettersuitedto be queen at his side.”
I hold my breath in my chest as my knees threaten to buckle.No.This can’t be true. It is a ploy to break me. These are lies, nothing less.
“You look as if you don’t believe us,” Simon, correctly, points out. “Perhaps you need proof.”
“How can you prove what you say? Unless you plan to bring me to the Mage Kingdom yourself, I will find hearsay about other kingdoms hardly much more than that.”
The king hums as he takes another drink, setting the chalice down on the table. I stay still while he drunkenly steps towards me, stopping when he’s close enough for me to smell the alcohol on his breath. “And what if I could show you exactly where the information comes from?”
I lift my eyes to his. “You said they weren’t answering the Mirror.”
His smile is watery, tainted by the alcohol and his own evil intent. “Xander!” he shouts, making me jump. “Bring Stephan here.”
A hesitation and then, “Stephan, Your Majesty?”
