The Heir of Night

18

It was a long afternoon. Theia remained silent, sipping on her wine as conversation and laughs ensued throughout the group. She suffered the discomfort when her eyes met others or when she was caught studying them for too long. It was such a change from her own environment, she felt like a fish out of water. She prayed dinner would come soon enough, and it finally did.

"The table should be ready," Feyre spoke as she rose from the High Lord's knee. Everyone followed suit, standing and stretching their legs from the hours of conversation. Theia remained beside the couch until everyone had walked past. When she followed through the corridors and filed into the dining room, her heart dropped when she saw where she would be seated.

The High Lady was sat at the head of the table, the High Lord and Nyx on either side of her. Theia, of course, was sat beside Nyx. Directly in her eye line was the Spymaster, and beside him was the High Lord. Her cheeks heated and she wished she could winnow away at a moment's glance. She sat and stared at her full plate. Their gazes burned her skin and Theia regretted accepting Nyx's offer to come to Velaris.

"Eat."

The command made her bones burn. Her jaw was set taut as she turned her head to see Nyx glancing at her through the side of his eye. He shoved a forkful of food through his lips. Surely it would be disrespectful not to eat the meal she was given, but her stomach was rolling at the thought of being around these people. With a heavy sigh through her nose, Theia brought a hand from her lap and grabbed the fork.

With no shock, the food was delicious. Theia pressed her back against the chair, eyes lowered to the table, as she ate. She wanted the meal to be over so she could corner either the High Lord or Emerie. She wanted to know why her home was not being repaired, but she also wanted to know why Emerie no longer frequented their village. Perhaps it had to do with the female sat closely to her, and the way their eyes met often in soft gazes.

Still, Theia ate and listened to the murmur of constant conversation. Dessert was served, along with more wine, and Theia's stomach was full. Her head spun loosely with the three glasses of wine she had over the few hours. Now, her knee bounced as she anticipated everyone leaving the table to continue the festivities. Surely by now she had chewed a hole into her lip.

A small gasp left her mouth when a large hand slammed down on her thigh, pressing her leg to the chair. She shot a glare at Nyx, who was already glaring at her. Forgetting where she was for a moment- and that it was not polite to aggressively shove a High Heir- Theia gripped his forearm hard enough for her nails to leave marks and pushed his hand from her leg.

"You're shaking the damn table," he hissed. Theia rolled her eyes and returned to her blank stare at the plate. After a long while, the sound of cutlery on plates and conversation ended and people began to stand. Letting out a quiet sigh, Theia rose and waited for everyone to leave the room. Her eyes fell to the High Lord, who seemed to be doing the same. Her brows furrowed as people left and Rhys remained.

"Theia, may I have a word?"

She reigned in any anxiety his presence gave her and nodded, nails digging into the back of her chair that she stood behind. Rhys rounded the table and offered his arm. It may have been a mistake, but Theia denied him. Rather, she folded her hands in front of her and motioned her head to the doorway. The High Lord rose a brow and began walking.

"I have not been able to make my way to Windhaven since we made our agreement. I plan to visit within the next week. Where will I be able to find you in the mornings?"

"I work at the bakery until four in the evening, then I work at the tavern until it closes," Theia responded as they walked through the corridor. The High Lord gave a grunt that sounded almost like a suppressed laugh. It made Theia dig her nails into her palms.