Page 101 of Queen of Nothing

Our stares are locked.

That message churns through the silence, loud and clear.

But I play by the rules of the game—a game I’ve been out of for so long now.

“How is Asta these days?” I ask. “Married Eric Harling and had little demons for babies?”

Dray leans closer.

His forearm braces on the edge of the table.

He says, soft and dangerous, “She married higher.”

The scent of smooth scotch is on his breath, blended with spearmint.

‘Married higher…’

I bet she did.

Bet she married all the way to the top after I took everything out from under her.

“And as for offspring, she is with child now.” His growing smile is dark. “You might be spending a lot of time with her. Do try to be nicer.”

My insides coil.

There’s too much in what he really says.

And all of it pisses me off.

Asta is happily married, obviously to Dray, since she’ll be around so often, and for my sake, I should be nice so I don’t get my ass whooped again.

My jaw tenses, firm, until my teeth ache.

Then the attendant cuts into my peripherals. She comes to the table, a platter balanced on one hand.

The colour is draining from my face.

I fall back in the seat, slumped.

I stare at Dray.

The scent of scotch lingers in the air.

“The chef has prepared homemade fettuccine with white truffle and sous vide duck,” she says—

But her voice is an echo.

It’s so far away.

It climbs on the wings of the plane, tumbling around with the engine and the murmurs further up the aisle.

The plates are served, the coffees taken away, a fresh glass of scotch set down on the table, and all the time that takes, I drift further and further away.

I can’t explain it.

A sinking sensation inside of me.

A sense of... jealousy or hurt, like I just want to shove a pregnant Asta down a flight of stairs.