(INA)
"Who the fuckinvited a mangy dog to our dinner party?"
Princess Lysandra's words hang in the air as the rest of the room goes silent. It's as if the rest of the guests are all waiting for me to respond to the loud, offensive statement, including Brennan, though I believe he's just as taken aback by the assault as I am.
Either that or he's just choosing to let me wage my own war.
But as I settle on a witty remark to politely say back to her, my voice is drowned out by the confident reply that comes from my right.
I can't see him through Brennan's large frame, but I don't have to to know who is speaking. He must've come through his own entrance and taken us all by surprise, including Lysandra, whose face shifts slightly at the sound of his voice.
"As far as I know," King Solan begins, "no one invited a dog to dinner, but I did invite a wolf."
My eyes lock with his about the time he stops next to his fiancée, who is standing across the table from me, both of her escorts having dropped her arms as her betrothed approached.
I have to avert my eyes. I can't hold his gaze while he's standing next to her. It's too shocking, too unsettling, as I get a glimpse of how beautiful the two of them are together.
It seems absolutely ridiculous beyond measure that I even let my subconscious entertain the possibility that the Vampire King might see me as anything more than a prisoner.
I manage to glance up, but no higher than their chins, as the princess rests her hand on his chest and flutters her eyelashes at him, I'm guessing, probably smiling innocently.
He bends down and kisses her cheek. It's nothing more than a peck, but I feel a twist to my gut that seems both ridiculous under the circumstances, yet very real.
King Solan pulls Lysandra's chair out for her before adding, "Let's all be kind to my guest. Princess Ina has had a trying day."
It's then that I feel the weight of his eyes on my face again and know I am compelled to look back at him.
When I do, our eyes lock for only the briefest of moments, but it is enough for me to register a few emotions running through his mind, the primary one being sympathy.
He honestly does feel bad for me, that I've been betrayed by my family, that I am even here. But there's something else, too, something I can't quite understand. Is it the hint of an apology? Or could it be… a trace of… longing?
Whatever it was, he shores up his emotions quickly enough as he moves to the head of the table, and though he has been kind enough to pull out his fiancée's chair for her, a waiter jumps to pull his back for him, and he takes his place, and then the rest of us may sit. Lysandra slides around her chair and is pushed in by her brother before he is seated.
Brennan helps me with the awkward chair, both pulling out the large, heavy piece for me and pushing me in, which I could've managed since I am exceptionally strong, but I appreciate his help anyway.
As my abdomen hits the edge of the table, I think I hear a low rumble, but it's just a whisper, and I'm not sure what to make of it, so I ignore it.
The sound reminds me slightly of the noise Kalen made at school whenever he saw me speaking to my friend Freddie.
Brennan also chooses to ignore it, though when I glance over at him for a split second once he's settled, it seems he has a surprised, amused hint of a smile on his face.
Whatever is happening is a mystery to me, and there is a flourish of dinner etiquette happening around me that is more important than trying to figure out if King Solan truly just growled at his friend for helping me with my chair.
I have attended dozens of formal dinners over the years at various palaces, and they are all slightly different when it comes to decorum.
I do my best to follow along with everyone else when it comes to when to place the napkin in my lap, how to choose a utensil, all of those things, but when the waitress presents us with our plates, mine is much different from everyone else's.
They all have three large goblets in front of them, while I only have two. All of us have water and red wine, but they have one for blood, and as the thick, crimson substance is freshly poured by the servants designated to each vampire, the scent hits me and makes my stomach twist slightly.
I've never been squeamish, but having seen the state of the feeders' dungeon first hand, and thinking about how much blood had to have been harvested to feed this many people an entire goblet full… it makes me have to look away slightly.
The servant behind me stands with his hand on top of the silver cloche until the signal is given, and then they are all lifted at once.
My plate is much different from the others as well. While they all have small portions of red meat swimming in its juices, as well as small portions of sides, my plate is huge. I have a massive steak, a huge potato, a salad on a separate plate, and a vegetable I'm not sure I can identify. Asparagus wrapped in bacon, possibly?
I don't know what to think of the situation, but I don't have much time to process it anyway before Princess Lysandra lets everyone know that an oddity has occurred amidst the dinner guests.
"Holy hell," she practically shouts as a giggle escapes her lips. "It's no wonder you're such a big girl. That's a lot of food."
My eyes widen in slight horror as I process what she's said to me. I take a breath, trying to decide what to do. Brennan already has food in his mouth, not that I think it's his place, or anyone else's, to stand up for me to the bitch.
I decide it is best to be polite. I don't want to give anyone here the reason to think that I am the problem. "Yes, well, one never knows when they may need to defend themselves, so it's best to keep one's strength up." I hope that my answer is both polite and to the point—she ought not to mess with me; I'll snap her hand off.
But she only giggles, and her brother asks, "Perhaps Clark is here after all, and we simply can't see him. Are you sitting on him?"
Both of the guests from Solis Dominion laugh at this, as do several other guests, including Prince Theo, who appears to be attempting not to.
I've never had my physical appearance made fun of before, and I'm not sure how to process it.
My combat training has required me to keep my body muscular and in shape. I've had to eat quite a bit of protein each day in order for that to stay the case. But it's not fat. It's not excess. And considering how short my pack is on food sources right now, recently, it's been a challenge to even find enough protein for all of us. So no, I'm not large. At least, I don't think I am.
"Enough, Lysandra," King Solan says, not looking at either one of us. "You're being ridiculous."
"Oh, I'm just poking a little fun," she says with a shrug. I refuse to look away from her, to drop my gaze and submit. "Mother always taught me it's polite to play with my food."
That gets another laugh out of everyone within earshot, except for Brennan.
And the king.
"Princess Ina is not your food, Lysandra." He takes a drink from his goblet of blood and somehow manages to do so without a trace of the substance adhering to his lips or teeth. "Princess Ina is off limits to everyone in the castle. Didn't you receive my decree?"
She pulls her eyes off of me to look at him; I feel the shift in the weight on the side of my face as I am having a hard time looking away from him myself. The king is looking at his fiancée, though, and when she says, "Yes, yes. I heard something about it, though I didn't pay it much mind. The three of us were out in the garden still, looking at where to place the blood bar for the reception."
"I suggest that whenever I make a decree, you do pay attention." His tone is direct but not otherwise harsh, and when Lysandra shifts the topic of discussion from me to her wedding plans, I feel inclined to begin my meal.
I'm not hungry. As much as my body is longing to replace the calories I burned beating the hell out of those guards, I can't seem to make room in my stomach for much of anything. The knot there is so intense, and the thoughts that plague me about all that's happened throughout the day restrict my ability to get more than a few bites down.
It's just as well. As soon as Lysandra is done explaining how the ice sculptures will be mechanised so that they will display the king and herself turning toward one another and kissing over and over again, her brother has a question for me, "So, you're the daughter of Silvan Tanner? Is that right? Sworn enemy of House Vale?"
I am taking a sip of water when the question is asked, so I have to swallow before I can say, "Yes, Prince Rowan. That is correct." Although at the moment, I'm not sure I want to claim Silvan as my father.
"And how, exactly, did you come to be here?" he continues. "Not at the dining table. I know that King Solan is far too generous to let someone of your status end up in the dungeon for what her father has done to his people, but are you here to help facilitate peace?"
I stare at him for a long moment, confused as to why he's asking the question. I think everyone here knows why I am at the castle, including him. It's like he just wants to hear me say it.
His blue eyes are locked on my face, unblinking, as I choose my words.
But there's simply no reason to be anything other than honest. "No," I say. "My father offered me in exchange for his debt. To become a feeder for the king."
Rowan has a satisfied look on his face, as if he'd been hoping that is exactly what I would say, but Lysandra begins to laugh loudly. "How awful!" she blurts. "To have your own father do something so… harsh. You must feel terrible."
"Lysandra," King Solan says, looking at her sharply. "Be polite."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Sometimes I forget that wolves have feelings." She clears her throat. "But seriously, that is too bad."
"She's not telling you everything," Brennan says beside me. It's the first time he's addressed them when they've spoken against me, and by the way his words leave his mouth, I can tell he's been holding back, though I'm not sure why. "Her father wasn't trying to trade her. He was trying to trade another family member, and she stepped in on the other girl's behalf."
I can't look at anyone now.
My eyes drop to my lap, and I take a few deep breaths so as not to remember what has transpired. I feel Brennan's hand on my leg, a squeeze, and a release. He hasn't meant to upset me, I know that. He's trying to get them to leave me alone, for them to see that I've been through more than they realise, and to understand that I am brave or something.
It doesn't work.
"Unbelievable," Lysandra says. "Your father is a bigger asshole than I even imagined."
"Lysandra—" the king says, but she doesn't deter.
"Well, he is your enemy, isn't he?" she asks King Solan. He says nothing, and I'm not about to raise my head to see his reaction. I have managed to blink back my tears, though, so when Lysandra continues, I am looking at her. "I've always thought that werewolves cared very little about anyone other than themselves. I suppose this just confirms it."
"The fact that Ina stepped in to spare her younger sister confirms that for you?" It's the king himself who is questioning her logic now. I feel my chest both tighten in sadness as I think about Lola and swell with pride that he is standing up for my people and me, something he shouldn't feel compelled to do. We are his enemies, it's true, and we have been at fault this entire time, it seems.
"Oh, my," Lysandra says, and I can tell she truly is shocked this time. "I certainly hope someone is there to protect the girl. Otherwise, I can't imagine what your father might do in his rage."
Her words are meant to get a reaction out of me, and they do. I feel hot tears springing to my eyes as I contemplate the same thing. I want to get up from the table and run away, to hide, to cry in my despair, but I can't move.
I no longer have the freedom to do any of that without permission, and when I turn to the king to see if I should ask for his consent to leave, I see that he is seething.