Who the hell does he think he is?
“My family can wait another season, or even a year, before my next visit. Their last letter stated they would ponder attending the Conjugation. Colette is pregnant with her and Ricard’s fourth child and isn’t able to travel. Apparently, if one of them isn’t able to, none of them are,” Esaias rambled, leaning back in his chair and swirling his kusu in his silver goblet. He coughed before taking a sip.
Amaris grasped her own, downing half the glass in a single gulp. She could bathe in the stuff, but she’d settle for the aid with the increasing pain in her hand. Her thumb traced the design crafted into the silver. A baywith a fish in the center being stabbed with a knife.
“Must we continue with talk of the Conjugation?” Theodoric droned.
Conjugation?Amaris pondered the affair but thought better than to trouble her mind with anything other than gathering information for her escape. She pulled from their discussion, searching the main hall for Adelaide, but she wasn’t seated at the head table, or anywhere else for that matter.
“Your looks are wasted on you,” Esaias said. “You could have any woman as your escort, but you’re going to choose some wrinkly old—”
Amaris dropped her spoon and choked on a piece of meat. She coughed and smacked against her chest, attempting to clear the blockage. Theodoric thumped her on the back, and the meat flew into her mouth. She turned away, spitting the contents into her napkin.
Esaias coughed. “I was going to say book, my dear, but I love where your head is at. Also, you must learn to swallow properly. I find spitting to be impolite.” He smirked, taking a long drink of his kusu and refusing to avert his eyes from Amaris.
Her jaw dropped at his audacity. She gripped her spoon and thrust it in his direction. “Well, I find your vulgarity repulsive. I should take this spoon and shove it down your throat. We’ll see who’s gagging and spitting then.”
The few around them fell silent as their eyes trained on Amaris with her spoon poised to attack. Theodoric’s hand slid around hers and the spoon, lowering them to the table.
“I suggest a different piece of cutlery if there will be any throat-gagging or even slashing.” He waited to release her hand until she let go of the utensil.
Amaris’s cheeks flushed, the room growing stifling hot, even as goosebumps raised on her skin. She was done with them. She refused to be someone’s eye candy while also being belittled and degraded.
“If you wish to threaten me with your spoon by assessing my gag reflex,” Esaias began, grinning like a fiend, “it’s only fair I retaliate with similar action.”
“Esaias, enough of your witty antics,” Theodoric said, grasping Jeremiah’s ears. He gave Theodoric an annoyed side eye but must have believed appeasing his stomach was more important and continued to scarf down his food.
“Witty antics?” Amaris seethed. “Witty?” Her hand darted for the spoon, but Theodoric was quicker, snatching it off the table. “Fuck both of you.”
“At the same time?” Esaias mused.
“You both are insufferable.” She pushed out her chair, slamming her hands onto the table as she stood. A gasp escaped her as searing pain burned up her arm.
Alan’s chair tipped back, but Theodoric shot him a look. Amaris’s foot gave out beneath her as her vision began to tunnel. She caught herself at the expense of her hand when her elbow slammed into the table.
Theodoric leaned in. “What’s the matter with you?”
“I’m fine,” she snapped. “Sound familiar?”
Her eyesight returned with vivid and blotchy colors outlining Theodoric’s face. She made for the door, gripping the backs of chairs as she passed through the main hall to make sure she didn’t faint. What a spectacle that would be. Two fainters in one day.
She stopped a few feet outside the door, forcing a few breaths. Her vision was returning, but the pain still lingered. Each throb of her heart was an agonizing pulse through her bones. She unwound the makeshift bandage, and an all-too-familiar aroma leaked from the cloth. A rush of nausea washed over her. Where the glass pierced her skin, yellow pus now leaked. The rest of it was either bruised, red, or swollen with infection.
Heavy shoes followed behind her. She was almost thankful for Alan. She could officially demand to see Pricilla and maybe spew a line of curses at him for not taking her seriously. She turned around, but it wasn’t Alan. Theodoric stepped closer, his eyes darting to her wound.
“Ugh, why you?” Amaris groaned.
“Has no one tended to your hand?” he asked.
“No,” she shot back, “and I don’t need anyone to. I can do it myself.”
She tried to walk away, but he grabbed her arm. He brushed the back of his hand over her forehead, dragging it down her cheeks.
“You’re overcome with fever.”
“No, I’m not,” she muttered, pushing away from him. “I’d know if I had a fever, and I’m certainly not taking your word for it.”
“We must see your hand is tended to,” he said, ushering her down another hallway.
