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They both gaped at me. “You were in Rome?” One asked while the other blurted, “Did you see the queen of Rome?”
“I was. Did. She held me prisoner until my queen freed me.”
“But why?”
“I’m a king. I’ve been imprisoned most of my life to protect the nest.”
“But not now. Clearly.” Yaxkin shook his head. “I’ve never met a king. What is that like?”
I thought for several moments, weighing how to answer. “Lonely.”
“Not any longer.” Ezra joined us with a large basket. “Thank goddess for Winston. That man knows how to stock a kitchen for Blood.”
Sitting on the ground in front of us, he handed out brown bottles to each of us. “Drink up, my friends. There’s plenty more where that came from.”
I could only stare. Stunned. In a good way. But it was still shocking to see Ezra interact with the two Zaniyah Blood. He was nearly as reclusive as me, or so I’d thought. I never saw him hanging out when off duty with anyone except Daire. In a million years, I never would’ve expected him to laugh and chat about anything and everything with anyone, let alone strangers.
Even more shocking, he’d said, “my friends.” And he meant it.
For the first time in my life…
I have friends.
More Blood started to join us. Nox, the bird shifter who’d visited me when I was caged. Vore, the other newer king. He stared at the offered bottle in Ezra’s hand for several seconds before accepting it. The same as me. The same stunned, rattled look in his eyes when our gazes met.
I grinned. Then he grinned too. And we clinked our bottles together to sample beer. With friends. For the first time in our lives.
“It’s good to be Blood,” Maxtla said. “Especially among other Blood who aren’t stuffed shirts.”
I had no idea what a stuffed shirt was. “That sounds uncomfortable.”
Ezra barked out a laugh. “Fuck me sideways, it does indeed. About as comfortable as that tight as hell suit I crammed into last night. It sure was stuffed to the gills. Er, no offense, Okeanos.”
I couldn’t help the strange sound that rolled out of me. A melodic whale-song tone of laughter. “I wouldn’t want to be stuffed to my gills either, Ezra.”
36
SHARA
Pausing for a moment out of sight of the other queens, I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. Slowly. Holding it for several long seconds before exhaling. Centering myself.
The thought of having so many people staring at me while I ate rattled me more than I cared to admit. I’d originally planned on just having a few queens to entertain for dinner, not all of them, but this felt right. I needed to know these queens better. All queens.
At least the survivors.
Rik lightly touched my back, a massive, solid protection around me. Always. Guillaume waited just inside the room, and he’d endured countless formal dinners in his very long life. He’d keep me from making a social faux pas like using the wrong fork or spoon.
I’m being silly, I told myself firmly.
This is my house. My staff. I’ve endured countless attacks. I died twice today. I’m not going to be afraid of using the dessert utensil for my salad.
Head high, I stepped into the dining room. My guests still stood at their chairs, waiting for me to take my seat first. Guillaume inclined his head as he took my hand and helped me sit, though I didn’t miss the subtle quirk of his lips or the amusement leaking through his bond.
:What?:
He scooted my chair closer and then stepped back, making room for Rik to take up his position behind me. :I just find it amusing that the most powerful queen in the world fears using the wrong fork for dinner. If you want to use the cocktail fork for the entire dinner, no one will dare say a word.:
:It would set a new trend,: Rik added. :Everyone would eat with the smallest fork and say you’re a genius.:
