“Oh well, you know me,” Winta said, her smile thinning. “If I don’t clean it myself, it’s done wrong. And here, I’ll only have a small mess to clean.”
Luna blinked, trying to process the whirlwind that was Winta.
Slurring his words, Felix drunkenly grumbled, “What my love bug means is—take a bath before exploring.”
Their words stung, but not enough to break through the fog Luna had wrapped around herself. The worst part was, they weren’t wrong. She could still feel the grime clinging to her skin, the dried blood where her nails should have been. A bath would be nice; though she hated that she needed one at all.
“We’ll have one drawn for you both. No trouble at all,” Winta said, turning her head to a servant who had appeared at the doorway. “Ah, here is the tea now.”
The servant held a tray with a white kettle and small glass teacups, each rimmed in blue swirls. Hesitantly, she entered the green room and placed the tray on a side table.
“The tea is from the lower regions of Nimtas,” Winta said as the servant began filling each cup. “It’s a traveller’s dream. Soothing properties for the mind and body. Should help you recover some from whatever it is you endured over there.”
Knowing she didn’t really have a choice, Luna took a small sip. It was sweet, with a bitter note at the end. She could feel her body ease as the liquid warmed her core, but Felix’s presence tugged at the edges of her thoughts, not allowing her to relax. He passed on the tea, preferring his smoky blue drink.
“Tell me about your journey,” Felix said, taking a large gulp of his glass. “I am eager to hear what Ghelvina is like. I’ve only seen it myself in others’ memories.”
She imagined him sifting through someone else’s memories of her home—twisting them, misunderstanding them—and it made her stomach knot. It was one thing to tell a story; it was another to imagine him piecing together fragments from someone else’s mind.
“And we were eager to leave it.” Damien leaned in, whispering to Luna, “He has a mild obsession with humankind.”
Luna barely registered the attempt to lighten the moment.
“Can you blame me?” Felix hiccupped. He shifted his body, letting his limbs sprawl across the bench and Winta. “No magic, and yet they prowl the lands like dragons, entitled and ferocious.”
Winta lifted her teacup, but it hovered near her lips without reaching them. Her smile faltered—just enough for Luna to notice the tightness in her jaw, the almost-sigh she swallowed. Then, as if her composure were a mask, she took a delicate sip of tea and slid her smile back into place.
“Perhaps we should let our guests settle in, dear”—she placed a hand on Felix’s, giving it a light but affectionate tap—“before you unleash more of your curiosity on her.”
She turned to Luna, her tone sweetened, but something in her expression twitched. “Don’t mind him, he sometimes lacks a little manners.”
Luna bristled. That word—manners—landed like a slap.
“And you don’t?”
Winta’s eyes widened.
Shit.That was meant to stay in her head.
“Um . . .” Luna fumbled. “I just mean . . .” She racked her brain for something—anything—to cover her slip, but she was so numb, and far too tired to find the right thing to salvage it. Two seconds out of the Ghelvina,and she was forgetting everything Demetrio and Angie had drilled into her about etiquette. Not that she cared. At least, not right now.
Felix’s drunken laugh shattered the silence. “She’s got you there,” he howled, slumping further into the bench.
Winta didn’t laugh; that perfect smile was long gone. Her hand slipped off Felix’s, falling to her lap, and for a breath, she went still.
Unbothered, Felix added, “That’s why I keep telling you, you gotta—”
“That’s enough,” Winta interrupted coolly, her fingers twitching. “We have guests.”
“You don’t need to feel ashamed, love bug,” Felix murmured, leaning his head against hers, narrowly avoiding getting an antler in his eye. “And you know that I appreciate all that you do, but others can get the wrong idea and—”
Winta shook him off with a quiet huff, her shoulders stiffening. She took a long sip of tea, her gaze distant, unreadable. Maybe she was mulling over his words. Or maybe she was calculating how to murder Felix with the least possible mess, then Luna.
Luna also brought her tea to her lips, sipping slowly. The small movement felt detached, automatic—like her body was performing without her. Sitting upright was a quiet battle; her limbs were heavy, her mind hollow from lack of sleep and the weight of pretending to be okay.
She kept her eyes down, silent. Whatever history Winta had with Everett didn’t matter; none of this did. Not the tea, nor the smiles, or even the people in this room. Once she left Damien, she’d never seen them again anyway.
“Of course,” Winta said, tone as light as ever. “We’re always happy to extend our hospitality—especially to guests of Damien’s . . . even when circumstances are—” her head tilted slightly—“less than ideal.”
