To Seduce An Assassin (The Omaja Series Book 2)(32)

Wilten curtsied. “Milady, dumpling almost ready.”

“Yes, perfect work, Wilten. I must go dry my hair and dress for dinner. Look.” Graciella carried the bowl of dumplings to one of the kettles while the girl watched. “Drop these into the boiling soup one by one, and stir so they don’t stick together.”

“Yes,” Wilten nodded. “I do this.”

“Put half the dumplings in each kettle.” Graciella set the bowl back on their worktable. “Then put these lemon-custard tarts in the oven while the dumplings cook. Watch the tarts carefully, and take them out when the edges are brown.”

“Yes, milady. I can do this. You dress for dinner, no worry.”

Graciella smiled at the younger girl, and placed a hand on her slender shoulder. “Thank you, Wilten. You are such a good helper.”

Wilten beamed and curtsied sweetly.

Graciella left to go find someone to make a fire in her room so she could dry her hair.

§

Terijin and Uman carried in the limp fox carcasses they had caught in the forest and sat down at the table in the dining hall to feast hungrily on their fresh, bloody flesh.

“Sire,” Terijin said as they ate, “two hundred men took the elixir and the oath, but they must die to become Vyrkune, isn’t that so?”

“Yes.”

“How do you plan to—to have them die?”

Uman grinned, blood dripping from his teeth and lips. “Simple. We march them to Darpan and order them to attack whomever they come across in the streets. The Zulfikars and their Black Army guards will rip them to shreds as soon as they realize what’s happening. You and I return here and wait for my army of Vyrkune to return to me, bloodthirsty and immortal.”

Terijin chuckled. This was why he’d chosen to follow Uman. He was bloody brilliant.

§

There. Graciella secured the last hairpin into her re-twisted coil of hair, and pulled out a few strands to frame her face and neck. She checked her neckline in the mirror. She’d tugged the chemise down until the upper swell of her breasts was visible, then laced her bodice as tightly as she could over it to hold it in place. She smoothed her skirt down with her hands, took a deep breath, and went to open the door.

Jiandra and the twins were already standing in the dining room waiting for her, sipping from goblets of wine and chatting. Yavi saw her coming down the stairs and paused with his wine halfway to his lips, watching as she descended. Victory surged through Graciella’s veins at seeing the clear look of appreciation on his face.

Jiandra set her goblet down and came to take Graciella’s hands in hers. “Finally you’re here, sister, and looking ravishing! We’ve been tortured by the smell of the dumpling soup for the past twenty minutes, and we are starving to eat it.”

Yajna toasted her with his goblet. “Good evening, sister-in-law. We heard there was a mishap in the kitchen.”

Graciella avoided Yavi’s gaze. “Yes, there was a bit of a water spill. Sorry I’m late—I had to dry my hair.”

“How did Kitran manage to spill water on your hair?” Jiandra frowned.

“She tripped.” Graciella hazarded a quick glance at Yavi’s face.

His expression was unreadable. He picked up the bottle of wine. “Would you like some wine?”

“Yes, that would be lovely.”

Jiandra turned to the servant boy. “Tinni, tell Kitran we are ready for dinner to be served.”

Yavi pulled Graciella’s chair out for her, then seated himself. “You look beautiful tonight,” he said as he handed a goblet of wine to her.

Her cheeks felt pleasantly warm. “Thank you.”

“I am looking forward to trying your mother’s recipe.”

“Yes, I hope you like it.”

Kitran set a large tureen of chicken and dumplings on the table next to Graciella with a loud thunk, causing Graciella to jump. She shot the serving girl a cross look, but Kitran was already headed back to the kitchen.

“Ooh, this looks wonderful.” Jiandra removed the lid and stirred the soup with a ladle. “You men are in for a treat.” She served the soup, and the four of them dug in.

Graciella was careful to watch Yavi’s face when Kitran entered later with a second tureen of soup, and again when she returned to clear some dishes, but he showed no visible reaction. He didn’t even seem to notice Kitran’s presence.

Kitran, however, had jealousy written all over her face, casting angry glances at Graciella as she brought in the tray of lemon-custard tarts. She made her way around the table to serve one to each person, starting with Jiandra, then Yajna, and then Yavi.

Yavi was explaining to Graciella a bit about the history of the Nandalan Black Armies, when without warning, a cold, sticky tart landed on her chest.

Graciella yelped, then glared up at Kitran.

Kitran looked mortified. “I’m so sorry, milady! The tart slipped.”

Graciella looked down and gingerly peeled the tart off her skin, checking to see if it had soiled her dress. Lemon custard coated the swell of one breast as well as a bit of the gathered neckline of her chemise. Embarrassed, Graciella quickly dabbed at it with her napkin.

“Kitran, you need to be more careful,” Jiandra scolded. “Go to the kitchen and get Miss Stovy a wet towel.”

The girl gave Graciella a smug glance before hurrying off.