Chapter Ten
Christy fidgeted and then yanked with impatient fingers at the gown she wore. It was dinner time, and Blake was nowhere in sight. Had she somehow misunderstood where he had wanted to meet? She scanned the courtyard that she stood in. Unlike the other sections, which held training grounds and equipment to hone sword and hand-to-hand-combat skills, this part of the courtyard was nice. The sun came over the thick gray stone walls and lay in golden puddles on the grass. The other sections had little grass due to the constant trampling of feet upon them.
There were several lovely tables made of metal, and chairs surrounded those tables. Flowers grew along the wall, a colorful riot that drew the eye. Small lanterns hung on strings, and she was sure that at night they were lovely.
Dusk had begun to gather in the corners, cloaking the courtyard in soft purple and indigo shadows, and the scent of the flowers lay on the air, which was lacking a single breeze. In all, it was a lovely sight, a lovely place. Perfect for a picnic or just al fresco dining.
But he was not there.
Her lips flattened as she surveyed the surroundings yet again. Okay, maybe she was in the wrong spot. She walked to the left and ended up in a training ground filled with nothing but muddy dirt and a few water barrels. She went in the opposite direction and found herself staring at a vegetable and herb garden; beyond it was yet more training ground, that one holding wooden figures that had been hacked away at with swords until they were practically splinters.
She went back to the section with the tables, her impatience growing. Maybe she had come too early, she told herself. Maybe she had heard him wrong or had been too wrapped in her thoughts to really listen.
The sight of him had thrown her off balance. She had been lost in her thoughts when he had stopped her, and her thoughts had all been of him, which had just made the whole encounter even more difficult. She knew she should have said no to that picnic, and yet she had not. She was there, waiting for him, and he was nowhere in sight.
Her impatience began to filter toward irritation. Just where the hell was he? Was he begging a basket from the cook? Frustrated by his absence, she headed back through the highly arched door and went through it.
Voices and the smell of food drifted from the direction of the hall. She stepped toward it, a frown creasing her brow. Had he forgotten that he had asked her to go on a picnic? She stepped up to the door of the hall and peeked in. Blake was nowhere in sight. Neither was Max or Heather or most of the dragons. Uneasiness settled into her being, and she quickly turned around and headed to the kitchen.
She walked into a hell of a fight. The cook, in dragon form, was standing at the stove and she was clearly unhappy. Marlene was standing her ground, a bowl of pasta in one hand and a knife in the other. They were yelling loudly and Christy, recalling Blake’s words about Marlene’s eyebrows, beat a hasty retreat.
She went up the stairs to the room she shared with Heather and saw her there, standing at the window with a concerned expression carved into her face and her hands clutching at the sill so tightly they were white around the knuckles.
Christy said, “You okay?”
Heather turned to face her. There were slight shadows below her eyes, and her mouth turned downward. “Yes, it’s just that I haven’t seen Max all day and…and have you seen him? When I asked the others, they all got really weird and just said they didn’t know.”
Christy’s irritation turned into full-blown anger. “No, I haven’t. I haven’t seen Blake either. He stood me up.”
Christy cried out, “Oh no! Are you sure?”
Christy gave her a stern look. “Yes. I know what being stood up looks like, I promise you. He wasn’t there. I waited for nearly an hour.”
Heather’s feet carried her toward Christy. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Her jaw ached from holding it so tight. “I knew he was a selfish idiot and I knew better than to say I’d go on that picnic with him. He’s…he’s such an asshat! He could have at least told me he changed his mind.”
Why had he changed his mind? Had he just decided he was never going to get a kid from her and that there was no sense in just wasting his time with her? Probably. She shoved her hands through her hair, which she’d spent nearly half an hour arranging into the low and loose knot that it was up in. Her messy bun got a whole lot messier when she did, and strands of her hair fell around her face, making her even angrier than she had been before.
There was a knock on the door. Her heart started a fast beat. Was it Blake? Had they somehow missed each other in the courtyard? Was she angry for no reason at all? Was he there to try to figure out where she had gone and to take her on that date?
She hurried to the door and swung it open. Marlene, still possessed of her eyebrows, dimpled at her. In one hand was an enormous bowl that gave off a delicious smell and in the other she held plates topped with silverware. Disappointment crashed into her. “Oh, it’s you.”
Marlene’s head tilted to the side. “Yes, it is.”
Christy sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I…I’m sorry. I’m a little out of sorts.”
Marlene said, “It happens. So, I have been booted, literally, from the kitchen. I was thinking you two might want to join me for dinner.”
Christy stepped back from the door. “That would be great, thanks.” Especially since she did not want to face the others in the hall, all of whom probably knew Blake had stood her up.
Marlene arranged the plates on the table and then produced a bottle from the pocket of her gown. She gave them a mischievous smile. “I also have wine.”
Wine. That was what Blake had promised her. Her mood crashed down even farther, making her feel flat and depressed. Why did she care so much that he had stood her up? She had not even been really sure that she had wanted to go in the first place. She had been sure it was a terrible idea, and she had spent half the day trying to figure out a way to cancel.
They took seats. Marlene had not brought glasses, so Heather ran to get some as Marlene dished up the delicate pasta loaded down with a creamy sauce that had been swirled through with the pesto they had made.
Heather reappeared with the glasses and Christy took a big and grateful gulp of the wine. It was really good, and she said so. Marlene, swirling up noodles on her fork, said, “Oh, it is. They make it from flowers and honey and fruit.”
