“I can do what I see fit, Emily,” he said through his teeth. “She will suffer the consequences of her actions, and there will be no argument. This meeting is over.”
Everyone stayed put, their mouths hung like frogs waiting for flies.
“And what about Jason?” I asked, turning in my seat to face David. “What are you going to do with him?”
“I said,” David repeated in a clipped tone. “This meeting. Is. Over.”
Forks scraped piercing sounds down china plates, while the gentle clatter of wineglasses and murmured dinner conversations gave the candlelit evening a sort of comfortable, almost homely feel, almost as if I could imagine nothing bad had happened yesterday, or as if weeks had passed instead of only hours since I told David about Jason and I.
At breakfast this morning, Margret and Walt openly discussed David’s move to a new room and how David had laughed it off, said it was nothing but a minor argument between he and I that would resolve itself in a few weeks. And now we sat at dinner, such little time having passed but with so much on my mind, that it felt like I’d never left the table after breakfast.
David chose to avoid me today, even going as far as to miss Court, with a very valid excuse, of course. I’d been looking forward to that moment when I might sit beside him on the throne, though, perhaps gauge his reaction to me, maybe see if there was any hope at all for forgiveness, even one day, years from now. But the way he looked at me as we sat down to dinner killed all that hope. I swallowed each bite of my meal with the massive lump that had formed in my throat, not sure anything of substance was actually hitting my stomach. I felt wildly sick and hungry—about as hungry as a pauper roaming winter streets, and every time I tried to join conversations, either David just flat-out ignored me, or Morgaine cut me off whenever I opened my mouth. She’d taken a side long before this Jason business began, and it clearly wasn’t mine. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised at all if I woke to find her leaning over me in the dark with a dagger in her hand.
David looked up from the other end of the table then, and raised his glass, bowing his head as if to say, “I welcome the idea.”
Stay out of my head, I thought.
I’m not there by choice, he thought back. I’d rather lick Walt’s moustache than be forced to listen to anything you have to think.
I slinked lower in my seat, looking to Jason for a single moment of reassurance. But his seat was empty, its occupant now assigned to stable duties until David decided what to do with him. Even Arthur was too distracted to offer a quick smile. In fact, the whole room was full of life and laughter, vampires and Lilithians freely interacting and getting along, but the yellow of candlelight and the peaceful hum of conversation slowly turned into grey clouds and pouring rain above me, spitting my own misery out all over the table—wetting the food and the tablecloth, and flattening the hair to the head of each guest. But none of them noticed.
David performed as his usual kingly self, talking with members of the Upper House, his charming smile and glittering green eyes holding a captive audience as if everything he might say could be of great value. He was glowing, even though the night around us was otherwise shadowed with doom. No one would’ve known by looking at him that he just had his heart ripped out of his chest. And that only made me love him more: he was always so good at playing the game—hiding things away on the inside for the greater good of the world outside. I could learn a thing or two from him. If he’d ever speak to me again which, judging from the last twenty-four hours, I no longer existed as far as he was concerned. Which one would expect, anyway—after what I did. But it still hurt so amazingly bad that everything we had just blew away in the wind, like the flash from a camera. Just gone. Never was. Never will be again.
None of that mattered to me, though, not the way he’d acted today, or anything cruel he’d said to me. I knew, deep in my heart, that love couldn’t die overnight. He still loved me somewhere in that soul of his, and I wasn’t about to give up on him. Not yet. Not while—
“Morgaine?” David said, laying his wineglass on the table just above his plate.
“Yes, Sire?”
“Our queen looks rather ill, wouldn’t you say?”
Morgaine appraised me critically, then nodded in agreement. “I think she does.”
“She looks fine,” Blade cut in.
“No, in fact, I rather think she looks as if she needs to lie down,” David said, and winked at Morg. “See that she makes it safely to her room.”
“Of course, Sire.” Morgaine wiped her mouth and stood, huffing impatiently at me. “Amara?”
I looked at Mike, then at Falcon, who stood and pushed his chair in.
“Oh, you needn’t follow, Falcon.” David said, raising a hand. “Morgaine will attend to the queen.”
“The hell she will,” Falcon snapped, bowing politely after. “Your Majesty.”
The fire of authority flamed in David’s gaze. He practically scorched Falcon with it, clearly plotting a million punishments he could inflict on my overprotective guard for daring to go against him—in public especially. My heart beat so fiercely in my chest I could taste the blood in my throat. I knew David wanted to challenge Falcon, but he calmed himself instead and took a more honourable approach.
“Very well.” He offered me to Falcon. “See that she stays in her room for the remainder of the evening. Wouldn’t want anyone else catching whatever she’s carrying.”
A few dinner guests nodded and chattered in polite agreement, not seeing David’s dismissal for what it was.
“Come on.” Falcon appeared at my side, shoving Morg away as he hauled me gently to stand by my arm.
“No.” I slammed my hands on the table. “I’m not sick, David. And I’m not going to bed.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Ara. You are sick, disgustingly sick. And unless you care to tell our guests what your ailment is, perhaps you should take my advice.” He presented the room full of people, flashing me a grin so smug I wanted to hit him.
I grabbed a potato off my plate instead and ditched it hard toward his head, realising what I’d done only as it left my hand and flew past the stunned guests, making the flames on the candelabra’s flicker momentarily before exploding on the back of David’s chair, right beside his ear.
“How dare you!” He stood up, tossing his napkin down, but before he could storm over here and punish me, Mike, Blade, Quaid, and Ryder stood, too, ready to challenge him.