Page 17 of A Cruel Kindness

A plate full of lasagna was shoved unceremoniously into my hands, complete with a side salad and a drink meant to replenish electrolytes. Before I could mutter a reluctant thank you to Soren, he was off again, marching toward the raised platform.

“I’m sure you love sitting above everyone else,” I said, helpless against the urge to needle him, as he walked over.

“Up until today, I was down there with the paranovs,” Soren said, nodding to the long table closest to us, filled with pairs in the nineties. Even without knowing, I could have guessed. Every pair sat close together, seamlessly swapping parts of their meal or huddled close in conversation or smiling widely at each other.

Fear crawled up my throat at the prospect that blissful happiness was supposed to be my future. I really didn’t want that. I couldn’t have that.

Needing to do away with it, I said to Soren, “Happy to reinstate your proper rank, prince.”

The jab was well-aimed, causing Soren’s grin to slip slightly.

He recovered well, which made me think maybe he hadn’t shown much of a reaction at all. Maybe I was the only one capable of noticing the minute change. “You’ll be changing your mind when you realize who our company is for the meal,” he said, voice dropping in volume.

“Ford and Esme?” I asked, matching his hushed tone. “You and Esme seemed like … friends.” The word tasted bitter in my mouth. He and Ford seemed friendly enough, too, but I was more interested in defining the relationship he had with Esme.

Soren scoffed, the sound incredulous and grating. “Yeah, sure.”

My frown deepened, and I wondered how my plate would look splattered across Soren’s clothes.

Something in my expression sobered Soren momentarily, because his blinks stuttered and he answered, “Yes, we’re friends. Same with Ford. Before…” he paused, choosing his words carefully, “you got here, I was the only ninety-nine. They often grouped us together.”

I wanted to ask about Carson so badly. When the news broke months ago, I remember feeling bad for him, before another, more shameful sensation rolled through my chest. At the time, I hadn’t known what it was.

Well, that wasn’t true.

I knew what I felt, I just didn’t have an explanation for it. Until now.

I’d been relieved. Now, I knew it was that stupid, jealous Bond in my chest relishing at the fact that Soren was all mine. God help me.

“I guess this won’t be so bad,” I said, momentarily meeting Esme’s eyes from across the room. I forced myself to remember my first impression of her, that she seemed warm and kind, pushing aside the irrational half of my reaction.

“Just you wait,” Soren said through a sarcastic laugh. He ripped my tray of food from my hands and nodded in front of him, silently telling me to get a move on it.

I chose to stay silent instead of pointing out that he’d just technically done something nice for me, knowing that would probably result in us getting into a literal food fight before we ever made it to the table.

I headed towards my seat, politely nodding at Ford and Esme with a kind smile as I approached, and sat down. Soren took the seat across from me, sliding my tray in front of me.

Despite the nutrient bar Soren had stolen then shoved at me, my stomach was still empty and cramping. As gracefully as I could manage at this level of hunger, I tucked into my food. As I ate, I noticed that Soren’s Royal-bred manners hadn’t seemed to go anywhere, though he was gripping his knife differently—the way you would hold it as a weapon rather than a utensil.

Soren caught me staring, but stayed silent. Before I knew what I was doing, I turned the knife in my grip so that it mirrored his.

Much better, the Bond said.

It was only after the food created a subtle, warm feeling of fullness in my stomach that I realized that in the last several minutes, no one had said a word.

Somehow, I just knew Soren was actually comfortable in the silence, so I focused my attention on Ford and Esme. Ford’s movements were somewhat jerky, while Esme looked like she wanted to crawl out of her skin and was consciously restraining the urge to do so.

“Is…” I cleared my throat, restarting with the level, calm voice I’d been trained to use in tense situations. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” They didn’t seem like people who would particularly care who I was, but they hadn’t said a word since I’d sat down.

“What?” Esme and Ford said at the same time, whipping their heads towards me. I figured it wouldn’t do me any favors to point out that despite their obvious insistence, they shared quite a few similarities.

“Just treat me as you would Soren,” I said carefully, gesturing at Soren. I was sure he’d gotten his own wave of the careful treatment. He was the heir when he enlisted, same as me.

Ford just blinked at me, his strong brow furrowing, while Esme’s soft brown eyes widened in confusion.

Oh. Okay, so that wasn’t—

“Princess, it’s not you,” Soren cut in. He was obviously covering up a smirk, something I was sure he expected me to thank him for.