Philip’s gaze bounces between us, his brow tightening. Stars, this is like deja-vu. Except instead of my best friend Wynn at my side, there is a Nimbiss princess.
The princess glances at me through curious eyes, her ruby lips slightly pursed, before she turns to Philip. “Princess Leeri Eadrom of Nimbiss,” she says in a velvety voice with the slightest accent, holding out her hand. “And you are?”
“Lord Philip Windell, your highness.” Philip makes no attempt to hide the fact that he is leering at the princess’s chest as he takes her gloved hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles.
The princess watches me through eyes so pale, they look almost glacial. “And you are?”
I curtsy, keeping my head bowed. “Lady Wynn Simon.”
Senan’s eyes sparkle. “It is good to see you again, Lady Wynn. My brother has been singing your praises.”
I smooth my hands down my skirts even as my face warms under his hypnotic gaze. What game is he playing?
When he turns back to Philip, all hints of humor vanish. “I didn’t realize you would be joining us, Lord Windell. How is the new wife?”
Philip got married? That poor, unfortunate woman. I bet he gave her a rabbit pelt as a wedding present. Hopefully she likes pistols.
“She is quite well, sire. Thank you for asking.”
The princess clutches Senan’s arm like she owns him. “Come, my love. Let us take our seats. They’ll be announcing dinner any time now.”
Senan’s smile turns wolfish. “Walk with us, Windell. I would love to hear all about life in Gallus.”
Although he looks as if he wants to protest, Philip follows Senan over to the table. Thank the stars the prince intervened. That interaction could’ve been so much worse.
Senan jokesand laughs with his littlest brother while Prince Aeron and I sit in stark silence across the table. He is so enigmatic, how could you not love him? I try to focus on the food, really I do, but my gaze always finds its way back to Senan.
Masked servants come and go, refilling wine glasses and clearing one course before returning with another. One maid wedges herself between Aeron and me, her hip ramming my shoulder so hard, I drop my fork, splattering red sauce all over my bodice. She doesn’t apologize either, carrying away a tray as if nothing were amiss.
My bad luck doesn’t end there.
Out of nowhere, a candle tips over, and I scorch my fingers on hot wax trying to right it. I burn my tongue on the tuna andcorn salad—a dish meant to be served cold—and my bowl of potato and leek soup is cold as ice.
There are mealworms squirming in my slice of brown bread, and I nearly break a tooth on what looks an awful lot like a stone inside the sherbet.
No one else appears to be having any issues with their food, which makes me believe this is deliberate. My fellow servants have turned against me, and I can’t even blame them. What must they think of me, sitting here in this gown, pretending to be something I’m not?
This dinner cannot end soon enough.
Before the dessert is served, a servant brings us a fresh bottle of wine, but when he goes to set it down, the bottle slips and spills red wine all over my place setting and my skirts.
The whole table gasps, and a few guests titter behind their napkins, like watching me try to clean up the sopping mess is the most entertaining part of their night.
The man beside me starts to offer his serviette, but then his wife catches his hand and pulls him back.
With my cheeks ablaze, I search for my own serviette, but it must’ve fallen somewhere?—
A clean white cloth appears in front of me. Prince Senan extends a handkerchief across the table, his initials embroidered on the corner. The princess watches him with a look of abject horror on her face.
The room goes so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.
I take the cloth with a quiet word of thanks and dab my skirts. What I wouldn’t give to be hidden behind a servants’ mask right now.
“Are you all right?” Aeron asks under his breath. The question would have made me feel better if he didn’t sound so bloody irritated.
No, I’m not all right. I feel humiliated and foolish. Why didn’t I take his advice and leave when I had the chance? “I think I need to go back to my rooms to change…”
He doesn’t appear to care either way when I rise from my chair and quit the room. The guards outside snap to attention, but none of them seem bothered by my presence. Without wings, it takes far too long to reach the central tower. When I finally make it to my room, all I want is to strip out of this dress and crawl beneath my covers. The thought of returning to that dining room makes me want to scream.