Kalden squirms. Legitimatelysquirms.
“Is there a spider in your soup or something?” I ask, because I’m not sure what else would have this stone-faced man so unsettled.
Twilynn, who’s on Kalden’s left, flinches away oninstinct. AndYvonne, the woman with waist-length braids on his right, scoots to the opposite side of her chair.
Kalden shakes his head. “There’s no spider. I guess I prefer the food from back home.”
“Where are you from?” The question comes from the other end of the brown marble banquet table, where the youngest of the selected is seated. Irina, maybe? No, I’m fairly sure it started with an A. Anira or Arima, perhaps?
“The north,” he answers before taking a measured bite of the food he clearly doesn’t enjoy.
“Scuros?!” Maybe-Arianna squeals. “That’s where my fiancé is!”
“Your what?” Gem asks, nearly gagging on a mouthful of cornbread.
The girl blushes, and the color is a near match for the red-berry liquid in her glass. “Well, myfuturefiancé. We haven’t met yet, but he’s left hints in his letters that he’s planning our engagement.”
“Why didn’t he propose before the Hunt?” It’s nosy of me to ask, but I can’t help but think that if a man is already committed enough to discuss engagement details, why would he leave his future bride susceptible to the draft?
Arianna—or is it Anara—thumps her mug of water down ontothe marble surface. She winces, doe eyes darting to the nearest camera before she drops her voice. “Just because your tragic love life is public doesn’t mean I want mine to be.”
I bite my tongue to prevent myself from pointing out thatshewas the one who brought it up. I get why she’s lashing out. She shouldn’t be here. None of us should, really, but especially not a twenty-one-year-old with a pen-pal lover who’s reluctant to make an official proposal. She’s pissed. At me, currently, because I’m the easiest scapegoat. But also at the situation. Likely at her partner, too.
So, instead of getting even for her petty retort about my public divorce, I say, “You’re right. I’m sorry, Adrina.”
“Aruna,” she corrects with a grunt.
Beneath the table, Gem nudges her knee into mine, and I bite back a snicker.
“Aruna,” I repeat. “Sorry.”
Aruna lifts her chin, which I choose to interpret as an acceptance of my apology.
The clatter of silverware bites through the renewed silence as the meal comes to a close. By the time I swallow the last of my potato, over half the group has disappeared into their respective bedchambers, leaving only Kalden, Meridna, Gem, and myself to clean the mess. Funny how the attendants and serving staff are nowhere to be seen now that the cameras have stopped recording.
I scrape and stack the beige ceramic plates from the marble tabletop while Gem grabs the mugs and forks. We carry them over to Kalden, who’s stationed himself at the oversized copper sink.
“Have any of you seen where they keep the broom and dustpan?” Meridna asks, pulling open each of the cupboards.
Kalden wipes off the suds from his left hand to grab the small broom from atop the wall cabinet, all the while rinsing off a fork withhis right. The sight of a man helping with the dishes is both strange and welcome. Perhaps Scuros’s recipes aren’t the only things that differ from Caligo’s customs. Maybe the men there are taught by their parents to divide the domestic duties. The thought is so ludicrous, I scoff while collecting the remaining platters.
“What a bizarre man.”
I startle, not expecting to see Meridna—a woman of few words—leaning against the metal chair behind me.
“He’s certainly different,” I say once the surprise settles, the sound of the running water concealing our whispered exchange.
“I can’t believe he volunteered. Makes me wonder what’s wrong with him.” Her pointer finger taps against her temple.
My grip tightens on the stack of silver platters. “He seems sane enough.”
“Honey, those of us who seem the sanest are usually the ones with the most to hide.” Pity fills Meridna’s gray irises as she strides out of the kitchen behind Gem, leaving me alone with Kalden while I process her words.
Perhaps I should heed the warning. After all, I still don’t know what he was doing half-naked in that tunnel, or why he was so insistent on participating in the Hunt. I’d be a fool to let my guard down around him just because he’s offering an alternative path to survival.
As if that’s theonlyreason he’s growing on me . . . My palms grow clammy as I’m brought back to the engrossing anticipation I felt with Kalden’s wrist on mine.
Shadows help me, this libido is getting out of control.
