He stumbles, caught off guard. “Oh—she, well for one, she’s a wonderful dancer.”
She tenses under my hard stare. “Ballet?”
“Oui, I was an Étoile at l’Opéra de Paris when I was younger, and have been a private instructor and choreographer for the last several years.”
“So young, yet so accomplished,” Soren crows, eyes glittering with eager greed that has nothing to do with her talent.
“How fortunate you two crossed paths,” I deadpan.
“It was kismet—I was at Cannes, and Yvette was receiving an award for her choreography work on one of the films being screened.”
“Charming.”
“Thane—do you share your father’s passion for film?” she asks, turning to him even as he refuses to look at her.
“No.”
Soren merely chuckles at his son’s brush off. “We may not have the same appreciation for the arts, but there are other things we could share,” he says, bringing her hand to his lips. “Comme toi, mon trésor.”
“Soren!” she giggles. “You said we would discuss it later.”
“Forgive me darling, I was simply overwhelmed by your beauty. And how bright our future looks with you in it,” He says, palming her lower stomach. Thane drops his spoon and it clanks against the pristine bone china as his other hand grips my knee under the table.
“She’s already pregnant?” he hisses, glaring at his father.
“Well, that’s what we wanted to talk to you about.” Soren shares a loaded look with Yvette and then smiles at Thane, eyes shining with zeal. “I’ve been working with a fertility specialistand we decided that outcross breeding would increase the chances of successfully conceiving another Leviathan?—”
“What thefuck?” he seethes, but Soren is unmoved by Thane’s barely contained outrage.
“—so after your next term ends—unless, Fate willing, Yvette is already carrying your brother—we will honor our House and continue our line, together.” Thane looks at me, eyes wide from the same shock and disgust I feel.
This is… unexpected.
Soren and Yvette exclaim at the arrival of our first course of chicken francese with roasted parmesan asparagus which provides a desperately needed moment to regroup. Thane storms off down the hall, catching Luther and Killian’s attention. I flick my eyes in the direction he went and Luther slips away to mitigate any damage control. When he’s out of sight, Killian leans back in his chair, raising his eyebrow in unspoken question.
What the fuck was that?
I shake my head.
Later.
He nods and turns back to entertaining our mothers as the food is passed down the table. Out the corner of my eye, I see Preston’s left hand snake out and slip beneath a servants dress—the same one from the parlor earlier—and she freezes.
“You there—” I snap my fingers, calling out to her. “Maid.” Her back goes ramrod straight, standing at attention. Killian looks over just in time to see Preston’s hand retreating from the girls skirt and his eyes threaten to flood black. “This asparagus is overcooked. Take my plate back to the kitchen and tell the chef I want it remade.” She takes my plate, hurrying to obey despite her panic and disappears through the walkway to the kitchens.
“While we’re on the subject of marriage,” Soren winks at Yvette before turning to my father. “I’ve been meaning tocongratulate you Renard—and you, Roth—on your upcoming nuptials. How the Hell did you manage to swing that, Laurent?” he laughs, raising his glass in a lazy toast and emptying it in one swallow.
“Come now, Soren, who could resist her?” he gestures to Calanthe across from me, who glows with false modesty under his praise. “I barely had a hand in it,” he chuckles.
Good broodmares practically sell themselves, after all.
Renard grins in barely-concealed triumph. “Just so—I expect the union of Wrath, Ignis, and Lust to be our best investment yet. Wouldn’t you agree, Roth?” he asks, turning his full attention to me.
“The House of Ignis can only benefit from a union with Lust, and I am honored to serve as its Heir.” His jaw clenches at the underhanded reminder that the House of Ignis ismine. Luther and Thane walk in then, taking their seats just in time for my mother to stand.
“Everyone—I’d like you all to raise your glasses and join me in a Saturnalia toast—not just to the union of Ignis and Lust,” she gestures to the Beauchamps, “but to the future of all our Houses. Together, our coalition has withstood the tests and trials of time. Now more than ever, we must continue the vital work our predecessors began for the greater good of our community. At least, until our Heirs are ready to take up the mantle themselves.” Her eyes rake over me before Marcus interrupts, reaching around Naomi to pat Cyrus on the shoulder.
“Hear, hear!”
