A Queen of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales 4)

Tamara and her guard, whose imprisonment had not been part of my husband’s deal, knew exactly how to speak to the king and the other members of the court. They’d had a lot of practice, after all. Weston’s wolves followed their example, respectful when answering questions and not speaking to those of higher status unless spoken to.

Hadriel and Vemar spoke hardly at all, on their best behavior, something that probably killed Hadriel, and Leala hadn’t been invited after all. There were limits to Starvos’s curiosity, it seemed, and a lady’s maid was beyond it.

Everything was going so well. I got lucky enough to sit close to Starvos, who liked nothing better than to have his ego stroked. This was the arena in which I excelled, and I danced to his tune seamlessly. I thought we were going to pull it off flawlessly, as a group. As Nyfain and Finley’s group.

And then, halfway through dinner, everything changed.

THIRTY-EIGHT

Finley

“Ugh.” Calia looked around her with her hand on her empty crystal goblet. A ring of red had settled in the bottom. Staff walked behind the diners, checking on plates and glasses and seeing if anyone needed seconds or refills. We were on the main course of a fucking amazing meal. I’d already mentioned three times that we need a faerie cook. Our current cook was fine, but…I mean…some things transcended “fine,” and this meal was one of them.

“Really, though?” Calia said under her breath, a line between her eyebrows. She looked at me in exasperation. “They are always so slow on my refills. The king doesn’t think I can do my job blind drunk. And sure, he is right, but sometimes I just need to let loose.”

Nyfain smiled from his position at my side, the place where I was supposed to be sitting. The one beside the place of honor at the head of the table.

We’d walked in the room at the head of the crowd, directly behind King Starvos and Queen Ayre. The king and queen had been escorted to the other end of the large table, where the queen waited beside her seat for the king to sit first. Once he did, she was helped into her seat.

The same scenario was supposed to play out with Nyfain and me. Except when we reached the other end of the table, Nyfain tugged me toward the head seat. The staff member, ready to push the chair in for him, hesitated at the sudden change in the seating arrangement. Until Nyfain stared him down, that was. With a little jump, the staff member was suddenly all action, tucking me in and delicately placing my napkin in my lap for me.

Nyfain then took the seat meant for me, leaning to the side like a playboy bored of this whole affair. He reached his hand across the corner of the table and took mine while waiting for everyone else to sit around us.

He’d done that in our kingdom, offering me the place of honor. I hadn’t expected him to flout custom in a foreign land, though. It seemed a little risky for him to not only proclaim his queen equal in power, a first for our kingdom, but to make a show of giving her the place of most importance.

I knew better than to protest, though. It would ruin our image of a united front.

Starvos had taken notice, of course, his gaze pinging between Nyfain and me. The queen had paid attention too, a smile slowly soaking up her expression. But neither of them had commented, and then everyone else filed in. The food was placed on the table, and the moment was seemingly forgotten.

“I know exactly what you’re talking about,” Nyfain told Calia, using two forks to delicately pry the white meat of the fish from the rib bones. “My fath—the king of Wyvern allowed me two glasses of wine or mead at any given dinner, no matter how long the dinner lasted. He didn’t trust me to have any more. I have no idea why because I’d never embarrassed him or myself with too much alcohol, but…” He shrugged. “I’d advise you to play nice while you’re in his company and then take a bottle from the kitchens, head out into the gardens or your rooms with a few close friends, and drink to your heart’s content.”

“That would be great…if I had any friends.” She pulled her lips to the side as she speared some of her fish with her fork.

“Am I not your friend?” Dessia asked.

“No. You’re my sister, and you get nervous when I drink too much.”

“That’s because, unlike King Nyfain and his…the last king, I have seen when you drink too much. It’s hard to keep you from drowning yourself in the toilet.”

Calia rolled her eyes. “You exaggerate.” She leaned toward me, her violet eyes shrouded in the low mood lighting of the dining hall. “She doesn’t drink. She thinks overindulgence is cause for alarm.”