“Anne. Maryanne.”
“Right. They are creating a network of healers and trying to educate as many people as possible so that the entirety of the village can help. Much like in your village.”
“It’s the best way.”
“Yes.” His mouth twitched. “And I can only imagine you offered plenty of…encouragement to push the people in your village to work together, as well.”
I opened my mouth to refute the statement, then reconsidered. Could he be right? It was highly likely. I’d been too young to care about social norms and polite conversation, too worried about my mother after losing my nana. I had wanted the death to stop. All of us had. It hadn’t taken much to convince everyone to acknowledge that medicine wasn’t something only gifted to the privileged, not that we’d had many of those in my village. I’d just made them see reason.
Wine was poured in the super-pretty crystal glasses. I reached for the water.
I was sure I wasn’t pregnant. Mostly sure. Mostly hoping I wasn’t, at any rate. I’d taken the tea each night since my argument with Nyfain, and the timing was probably off. Still…better safe than sorry until I knew for sure, if only to keep him from wigging out.
The first course was brought out by Mr. Belly and his helper, the guy who taught watercolors. I wrestled with a smile.
“What?” Nyfain asked as the fancy gold-rimmed bowls were set in front of us.
I waited until the staff had moved away before I told him about Hadriel’s watercolor penises.
He huffed out a laugh, picking up the soup spoon and sliding it sideways across the lip of the bowl before slowly bringing it to his lips. Talk about refined. Suddenly I wasn’t so sure this meal was a great idea. I could pull off a fancy dress with some help from Leala, but I wasn’t so sure I could pull off a fancy meal.
I gave it a go anyway, totally copying him. He paused after a moment, thoughtful, and dipped the spoon how we would’ve at my house.
My stomach pinched, and I set down the spoon.
He followed suit.
“What are you doing?” I asked him, my hand now hovering over the silverware resting in the bowl. Crap, maybe I should’ve put it beside the bowl.
“Following your lead.”
Only he hadn’t looked.
“Why? What do you mean?”
“Finley…I can feel your nervousness and embarrassment. I know this isn’t normally your scene. There’s no one here but me, though. And a few servants who have no fucking clue what they are doing. Please be yourself.”
“It’s just…” I tapped the handle of the spoon. “I…”
“Look.” He picked up the spoon again. “I think we can both agree that I don’t spend much time acting in a way befitting someone of my rank. Even when I try, my dragon makes shit of it. I’m swearing at the table. Surely this is enough to make you feel comfortable eating a meal in my presence? I’ll save the polite eating for when I’m trying to tease moans out of you, how is that?”
A flash of lust slithered across my flesh. “Okay.”
We resumed eating, and although I didn’t dwell on all the things I was surely doing wrong, I did pay more attention to how I went about it. I’d be damned if I’d drip food all over my fancy dress.
“This is one of our more casual dining areas, anyway,” he said, looking around. “It’s as small as we have.”
“No quiet family dinners, then?”
“Not for our immediate family, no. My dad and mom…didn’t occupy the same space if they didn’t have to.”
“I get why your mom felt that way, but didn’t your dad like your mom?”
His smile had no humor. “She might’ve technically been a noble, but she was from a mountain village in a wolf’s kingdom. She wasn’t much better than a commoner in his eyes. They didn’t celebrate wealth and finery like he did. They didn’t have a slew of servants. They were—are—warriors. All of them. She came here like a fish out of water. She had to be taught how to carry on polite conversation, how to eat at a fine table like this, how to hold herself…”
“But…” I frowned at him, finishing my soup and hoping for more. This staff might not be well trained, but the cook certainly knew his way around a soup. It had been delicious. “Then why marry her?”
“To get a son like me. Mostly.” Nyfain dabbed his mouth and dropped his napkin back into his lap. “My mother’s line is fierce and powerful. He wanted her brood.”
“And he got it. He got the warrior.”
“Well…” Nyfain leaned back as Mr. Belly collected his bowl and Liron—I seemed to recall that was his name—collected mine. “He did and he didn’t. He got a fighter, yes. A son with maximum power. But he didn’t expect a son that preferred gardening and singing. I was more sensitive than he liked. I expressed my ruthless fighter side only when necessary. The other times…I didn’t see the point in being an asshole just to seem powerful at all times. I was powerful. I didn’t feel like I needed to constantly prove it.”