You Are Mine (Mine, #1)(11)
“The way you blocked and attacked at the same time,” Father's spoon waves about as he speaks, leaving green splatters everywhere, “it was the quickest I've seen anyone move during a tournament.”
Never have I seen him so lively. With any luck, the change will mean fewer punishments. The electric lights in the chandelier overhead flicker, casting an odd glow across the far stretching, but mostly unused, table. It makes me nervous. At home, Father makes us eat under candlelight.
Thomas gives a lopsided grin and makes like he's snatching a bug out of the air. “I've always had quick reflexes. Better than those spying Envadi scum. Only someone as powerful as me can have a killing during a tournament. What do you think, Serena?”
My spoon slips into my green pea soup. I've never been required to speak during dinner before. “I agree with Father.”
“You must think something beyond that, woman. Don't my spells impress you? My new title make you yearn for when you'll be my wife? I even have a new house. Have you ever been to Chancellor Jacob's manor?”
He stares at me expectantly. Could he actually want an answer? Why is he speaking to me in such a way? He should know women don't have opinions on things. At least not ones we speak aloud. Of course I don't yearn to be his wife. And I've certainly never had reason to attend a Chancellor's home. Until now. The small amount of food in my stomach protests.
The staring continues. I don't dare to pretend to take another bite while he keeps asking questions. “I haven't.”
“It's the grandest place I've ever seen. Been in his family for more generations than you can think. But now it's mine. Perhaps if you are good after we wed, I'll let you visit.”
“That's a treat indeed,” Father says. “Been often enough myself for council meetings. Do you think you'll use it to host council meetings when it's your time to host?”
“Chancellor Ryan said I shouldn't bother, but I may anyway,” Chancellor Thomas replies and the two go back to conversing without me.
Cynthia taps her spoon on the table to get my attention. With a nod toward my soup, she takes a meaningful sip of her own. I resume pretending to eat. It's difficult to feign hunger while sickened by the day's events.
After finishing an overly sweetened cherry dessert, the men excuse themselves, with a reminder that we're leaving early in the morning to go back to the tournament. I sigh.
“That was the most uncomfortable dinner I've sat through,” I say. “How can they eat when they saw a man die? When he killed someone?”
Cynthia holds a finger to her lips and looks around. “Let's go to the sitting room, shall we?”
There are several servants on the edge of our conversation. Mostly tarnished in their strange dark skirts and unmatched, dull blouses, but some of the lower class men wait as well. Servants who are serving to pay off debts are trouble. Gossip from them can spread as easily as mother gets with child. “Of course. Might as well take advantage of the space.”
We walk to the joined sitting room by our assigned rooms and close the door. A pungent candy-like aroma clings to the air. I spot sachets of dried flowers and leaves clustered on the small table in front of the sofa and chairs. The most offending odor is laurel. The leaves of success. A reminder of my new Master, no doubt. I want to throw them out.
“What has gotten into you?” Cynthia puts her hands on her hips. If she'd been watching mother closer, she'd know they're supposed to be fisted as well. “I know you're unhappy, but you must be more cautious. You can't continue being so out spoken. You've been getting worse ever since your birthday.”
The day my future took a path away from her. I clench my teeth. One-by-one I pull my fingers from my glove, then take it completely off. After repeating the action with the other one, I throw them on the back of a chair. The cool air is refreshing against my freed skin.
“He murdered someone. I don't like it. Rather, I hate it. Doesn't it bother you?”
“Of course it does, Serena. I'm not totally unfeeling. But I know when to be cautious. I don't want to see you taken from me. From us.”
The words sting with truth, yet they don't change facts. “Thomas already owns me. My engagement ceremony is a little over four weeks away, the wedding four months after that. I'm leaving you. Nothing can stop that.”
She plops down in a chair. “But I'll still be able to see you from time to time. Dinner parties, balls, and such. But if you make a wrong turn—”
“Why do you keep thinking I'll do something wrong?”
“Because sometimes you act as if there are no consequences to your words. I'm used to you being this way around Father, but things are different now.” She sniffs. “I don't know how I would go on without seeing you again. How are we going to make it at home without you? You always stand up for us and take the brunt of everything. It'll be hard enough in four months. If you become tarnished, it would be terrible. It would be as if you were dead.”
Guilt pricks at me. I focus on that and not the fear that's been in me ever since Thomas's threat to tarnish me. I settle myself on the floor beside her seat. “Hush now. No tears. I don't do as much for you and the others as you think.”
“You do. We owe so much for everything you do for us.”