A King's Weakness (Book 1)

Chapter 31

I ENTER THE DINING HALL ON BASTIAN'S ARM like some kind of ornament, my skin crawling the entire time. The ice has receded—barely—but I know my skin is freezing to the touch. Not that he gives a shit.

"His royal highness, King Bastian Alarie, the Warden of Death, Keeper of the Balance," a knight booms when the doors open for us. "Calamity King, daughter of her royal highness, Queen Lilith King, the Wardeness of Life, Keeper of the Balance."

Now that sentence I am not expecting, and I nearly trip over my own two feet. Queen Lilith? My tutors somehow failed to mention that part.

Many sets of eyes land on me, including a a heavy pair of golden ones that burn a path along my skin. I don't look at Dante, choosing instead to scan the faces I don't know. There are quite a few, and each one is looking at me curiously, like I'm some circus animal.

If only they knew just how much of an animal I really am.

Bastian steers us to the head of the table, pulling a chair out for me on his left side—directly across from the prince, who, for his part, is giving me the evil eye. I quickly decide that I hate him, too. Maybe even more than his father, because the king, at least, didn't bother to pretend to be nice.

The stage is set, the curtain raised, and now I have to put on the best show of my goddamn life. It's a damn shame I never tried the whole theatre-kid gig.

The king answers questions, makes jokes, laughs at stories. Dante is the polar opposite of his father, sitting in a sullen silence, drinking wine so quickly that the servants can't keep his glass full. I'm tempted to join him in that endeavor, but I'd take a thousand shots over a glass of wine any day.

I'm startled when someone says my name; it takes me a second to realize that they are speaking to me, not just about me.

My head shoots up, and I look at a beautiful brunette about my age who is staring at me with hungry intrigue. "Sorry?" I ask, feeling Dante's eyes carve their own personal hole into my face.

"I asked how you have been enjoying your stay here. You must be very grateful that his majesty has taken you in despite all that your mother did."

Oh, sweet baby Jesus. This is Lyra all over again. But I'm determined to strike first this time.

I give her my sweetest smile. "It's been wonderful. Both the king and the prince have been fabulous hosts, incredibly kind to me. I'm sure you can't begin to imagine how grateful I am," I return, my voice layered heavily with honey. I place special emphasis on the word "imagine," giving her a tiny wink as I do, like I'm not already imaging tearing her to shreds. I'm goading her and I know it, but it fills me with unbridled glee. Finally, someone I can actually fight on a level playing field.

Her baby blue eyes narrow, her smile faltering slightly. Bastian continues to beam at my side, playing the ever-gracious host. The idiot seems pleased with my saccharine words, clearly choosing to ignore the fact that they aren't meant to flatter him but to anger her.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name, though. Who are you?" I taunt, feigning cluelessness. It isn't hard to do, seeing as I genuinely have no idea who she is.

"Dante and I go way back," she rasps, rising to sidle over to the prince's chair. He stiffens slightly, his reaction going unnoticed by everyone except for me. I know his typical level of angst, and right now, it's through the roof.

She sits on the side of his chair, draping an elegant arm around his shoulders as she gives him a dazzling smile. He slouches back into his seat, displeasure dripping from his pores. I want to laugh at how uncomfortable he looks. A giggle actually does manage to slip out, but I play it off by taking a large sip from the crystal wine goblet that I haven't touched until now.