There was always one person missing, however, and Loren was determined to break Camilla Dodd of such terrible habits as ignoring the wishes of her King.
When he entered Camilla’s suite that morning for dinner, he found the hard-headed woman sitting on her couch, a book in hand, and purposefully ignoring his entrance. She did not stand, nor did she acknowledge him in any way. The impudence was at once infuriating and amusing.
“Good evening, Miss Dodd.”
No response.
Loren closed the door behind him with more force than was necessary, drawing a startled jump from the Caersan that signified that her ears did, in fact, work. “I have called on you to join the Court for dinner this last week. Have you not received the invitations?”
Without looking up, Camilla snorted. “You lock me in these rooms and expect me to thank you for it?”
“Well…” Loren crossed the room and sat at the table that had been set with a meal for two, per his request. Plates, bowls, cutlery, and steaming platters of food were spread out before him. “Yes, actually.”
Turning a page in her book, Camilla still did not turn her attention to him. “Then prepare to be disappointed.”
A silence stretched out between them. Loren served himself a ladle of bisque. No servants remained in the room as he had requested the two of them be left completely alone. A return to what had once been normal for him was strangely welcomed.
“Come sit with me.” It was not a request, but a demand.
Camilla did not move, and a flare of heat sparked in Loren’s chest at her defiance. Getting angry right away, however, wouldnot help him—on the contrary, it would likely push her away even more. The last thing he needed was for her to shut him out completely.
“The soup is delicious,” Loren remarked after taking a sip from his spoon. “Much of your food has been sent back to the kitchens uneaten. One certainly cannot plan for a rebellion within these walls if they are not properly nourished.”
Indeed, she had refused to take from the vein of any Caersan he sent her way. That she even had the strength to sit up on that couch was beyond Loren’s comprehension. All he could attribute such strength to was pure spite. She would refuse to eat or drink, and when she desiccated, her family would turn on him.
That would be unacceptable.
It was not until Loren was halfway through his bowl of bisque that the fire in his veins grew to unbearable levels. The steady swish of each page turn raked on his temper—a near-silent mark of her insubordination.
“Come, Camilla,” he snapped. “Sit and eat with me.”
Silence.
Loren stood, crossed the room, and rounded the couch. When she did not look up at him, he grabbed her face and forced her attention away from the book. Hate radiated back at him from russet eyes as she set her jaw defiantly.
“You will eat with me,” Loren hissed, “or you will never see your parents again.”
Something akin to fear danced in her expression, but still, she did not move.
“Do you not believe me?” His gaze swept across her face to rest on the hard line of her mouth. “You must know that I do not mean to killyou. You are far too valuable to me. Your father, on the other hand? Your mother? I will have them returned so I can butcher them at your feet for refusing me.”
Her lips parted. No words.
“Test me, Camilla,” he growled, “and you will witness just how cruel I can be.”
At that, she set the book on the couch cushion and slowly rose to her feet. Loren did not release his hold on her.
“Good girl.” He drew his thumb across her lips and patted her cheek. “For someone who has no issue getting on their knees for a servant, you are certainly making it difficult to convince you to bow to my will.”
Pivoting on his heel, he marched back to the table and flicked his serviette back over his lap. Camilla followed at a distance, lowering herself into the seat across from him in a slow, controlled motion. Hands in her lap, she did not take her eyes off him again.
“Is that what you need?” Loren asked as he dropped a ladle full of bisque into her bowl. It splashed over the rim and dripped off the edge of the table onto her hand. She did not so much as flinch at his words or the steaming liquid searing her skin. “Shall I send you a Rusan or two? Perhaps they can fuck this poor attitude out of you.”
The lack of response grated on his nerves. Despite being able to see the rising tides of loathing in Camilla’s expression, it was not enough for him. How was he expected to break a beautiful woman such as she if she could not fight back?
“Eat.” He pushed her spoon closer to her.
As though driven by an unseen force, Camilla picked up the spoon and dipped it into the bisque. She raised it to her lips and sipped, all the while staring into his soul.
