Page 50 of Ruling the Green

“Since that bitch of a sister of yours took off to the Light Court.”

Oh, Celestine.

My father’s biggest trigger.

A daughter of both courts.

A fae with the power to burn with her touch.

My neck was evidence of that. And my father’s gaze slid there as he spoke of her.

What I knew, and he didn’t, was that I made her burn my neck on the day I helped her escape the castle. The burn had been my evidence that I hadn’t assisted her, that I’d been a victim just as much as the poisoned redcaps had been as well.

“I’m not letting her get her greedy hands on this throne.”

“I doubt she wants this throne, Father. She has her own.”

It was the wrong thing to say.

A growl rose up his throat as his fist slammed hard enough on the table to make our plates and silverware jump and land with a clatter.

Serin’s breath caught and I couldn’t do anything but rub her leg and hope she took it as the comfort it was meant to be.

Luckily, the doors opened right then and a line of servants came bustling in with platters, baskets, and tureens.

It was distraction enough for my father to forget about my sister and what he saw as her betrayal as we busied ourselves with the selections.

I reached for ladles, piling fresh fruit and cooked vegetables onto Serin’s plate. When I filled her bowl with steaming vegetable soup, she shot me a pinched-brow look.

Right.

She was from the lake.

She’d never had bread before.

What were the chances that she would have ever had cooked food?

As Cass spoke to one of the servants about a dish, I leaned into Serin’s side, my lips by her ear. “It’s soup. It’s good. But it’s hot. You need to let it cool a bit before you eat it.”

With that, I handed her a large serving of bread before loading up my plate.

Nothing made me less hungry than sharing the table with my father, but I had to play my part even if it felt like there was a rock sitting in my stomach.

Serin did not seem likewise afflicted.

She poked at her food and took careful bites of each new dish, not trusting it at first. But as soon as she got a taste for it all, she tore in, shoving fork and spoonful into her mouth, dipping her bread in the dregs of her soup until I passed her my bowl.

“Well, she has a healthy appetite,” my father observed, watching her with a bemused expression.

“I suppose the food at Grimwood’s table wasn’t as rich and satisfying as at yours.” Fuck, did I hate stroking his ego. But playing nice was part of my long game. Until it was time to make my move. And if my move included having to force the eternal death on him, well, so be it. A lot of people would breathe more easily with him dead.

“You’re right. He’s a miserly sort. Never three dishes when two would suffice. It’s probably why he’s never gotten as far as his family expected of him.”

“What did his family expect?” I would take any opening I could get to learn about possible enemies.

Cass exhaled hard. “The crown, of course.” An arm reached across me, stealing the bread from my plate, and it took everything in me not to smile. “That’s what they all want in the end, isn’t it? What I’ve worked for. What I’ve fought to hold onto. None of them could do what I do. None of them!”

His fist banged the table, but this time, Serin didn’t jump or yelp, just reached out to steady her soup bowl.