I grumbled, “Yes.”
The druid chuckled quietly. “It is possible to be all of those things.” His head tipped to Lord Belshazzar. “Take him for example. He has so many different shades he might as well be a fucking kaleidoscope spinning around and around making your head spin.”
I didn’t completely agree. Yes, Lord Belshazzar was all that and more, but I understood him. I understood the lord on a basic and primal level and could see those shades as beautiful or frightening or awe-inspiring. I couldn’t grasp that same understanding with Master Niallan. I didn’t comprehend the meaning behind his actions, whether I agreed with them or not. There was always a reason for someone’s actions—even if they just wanted to or were mentally unbalanced—but I couldn’t fathom his. Not all of them, anyway.
He was an ego-maniac, but…
Master Niallan was still a mystery to me.
I lifted one eyebrow. “Tell me something about yourself you’ve never told anyone.”
His lips lifted into an honest smile. “Trying to decipher me, your majesty?”
I cut into my chicken again. “Yes.”
Master Niallan tapped on his lips with the handle of his fork and eyed my features as I took another bite. “I’ll let you pick. Try to choose a question that Lord Biotch didn’t already answer last night.”
Lord Belshazzar snorted at the insult.
So it was all true. The druid had just verified it.
I chewed my bite and thought mutely for a long moment. There was one thing that was bothering me. My eyes ran over all of his exquisite features, taking in the druid’s radiance. Eventually, I questioned, “You don’t look anything like your mother, and there’s no portrait of your father in our room. Do you look like him?”
His head snapped back in surprise, and his eyes quickly shuttered of all emotion. He hid behind that hooded gaze, staring back at me silently.
I controlled my features. He’d just answered my real question with that reaction. And I was about to score a home run into his cruel side and his compassionate side—if he had the latter.
I waved my fork in the air. “Never mind. You don’t have to answer that. I know what it’s like to be hurt by someone who should have loved you no matter what. It’s never easy to talk about—with anyone.”
Lord Cato literally bent his fork inside his brutal grip where he sat next to me. But he stayed silent, with his attention zoned in on his morning fare, allowing me to create even more of a personal bond with the druid, and not interrupting my work.
I had not one ounce of pity for him.
The asshole didn’t deserve it.
He’d kicked me to the curb as a child.
No, he definitely wasn’t worthy of my kindness.
Master Niallan’s attention flicked to my father, to the ruined silverware in his hand, and then back to my gaze. Like a creeping shadow as the sun sets, the druid’s lips lifted leisurely. He replied, “You may be more vicious than your father. I didn’t think that was even possible. I believe more studying is required on that subject matter.” He twirled his napkin again, assessing my person—in a completely sexual manner. “Come by my room later this evening. We can talk about personal shit then.”
Fucking hell. I’d done it.
I snorted and rolled my eyes. “I’ll think about it.”
His lips twitched. “Either way, your name will stay on my approved list, your majesty.”
* * *
Our bedroom door slammed behind us.
Lord Belshazzar stormed past me and bumped my shoulder forward during his steadfast march. His hair blew out behind him in his silent trek to his bags, and no apology was muttered from his lips.
The Overlord was furious with me.
Lord Cato jarred my other shoulder from behind while he stormed past me to his own bag. He rifled through it, throwing his shit all over his shared bed. No apology slipped from his lips, either.
My father was also furious with me.
