He tilts his head, raising an eyebrow.
“You have said and done many things wrong this night,” he informs me. “Come with me now.”
He reaches an arm over the bush to take me by the elbow. “Punishment will be administered in my chambers.”
Okay, well,thatdoesn’t sound good.
Boundary Lines
VEYRION
The crowdnaturally parts for me as I escort the Eryx Oblation from their midst. Yet as soon as we clear the doors back into the castle’s main hall, I find Princess Seraphyne not nearly as respectful.
“Hey, listen, can I have one last meal before this punishment of yours begins? I’m seriously starving.”
I turn my head to squint at her. Yet again.
“Is that a no?” she asks into my silence.
“I am wondering why you do not take the repercussions for your wayward actions seriously.”
“Bet. If you want me to act scared, just get me another plate of that delicious roast meat and bread that was delivered last night. I’ll be able to act all sorts of terrified after I’m fully fueled.”
“Does your audacity know no bounds?”
“Most likely, yes. But maybe that boundary line is just on the other side of a plate of food.”
“By Eryx...”
Fortunately for her, her care remains my duty until the time of sacrifice.
I grab her upper arm and change direction, guiding her down several hallways to the place where I always eat—my private standing table just off the kitchens.
My Door Gravel must have already sent word. A full shank of roasted taarhorn waits for us, along with fresh bread and my usual morning order: twelve barnkip eggs and darkleaf tea. I typically prefer to hunt and eat my own food before moonsrise training, but this will suffice.
Her entire face lights up when she sees the meal. “Yes! This is exactly what I wanted—wait…”
She frowns up at me. “This isn’t human meat, right? There are rumors…”
I sigh inwardly. “We do not eat intelligent animals. Though we do have rituals that involve painting ourselves with the blood of our enemies.”
She gives me that blinking stare again. “So,nothuman meat? I just need a strong yes or no here, because cannibalism isn’t on my pre-murder bingo card.”
“What is a bingo card?”
“No idea. It’s just something humans say when they’re shocked. Or talking about stuff they really don’t want to do. Like the cannibalism.”
I sigh again. Outwardly, this time.
“This is the meat of a taarhorn—a ruminant mammal found in plentiful supply on our mountains. They are shorn each moonsend for wool, which we spin into uniforms for our gravels and Mountain Goats.”
A large smile once again reveals the curious space between her central incisors. And then I learn what it is like to be on the other side of this Eryx Oblation’s gratitude.
“Oh, my moons! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
A warmth unfurls in my chest as I watch her fall upon the food, humming happily between bites and shimmying her hips with each swallow.
Between gulps of my own barnkip yolks, I find myself refilling her water glass.
