Ash Princess(Ash Princess Trilogy #1)(45)

“Ladies,” S?ren says, bowing as we curtsy. “I’m glad you could join us. You remember Erik. From the ship?”

“Of course,” I say. I don’t have to look at Cress to see the blank expression on her face. She only had eyes for the Prinz that day. I doubt she could have picked Erik out from a crowd if she’d been asked to.

“It’s good to see you again, Erik,” I add with a smile.

His quick blue eyes dart between Cress and me in amusement. “You as well, Lady Thora. You both look lovely, of course,” he says, pulling my chair out for me. When he goes to push me in, he drops his voice low so that only I can hear it. “Did you lose a bet of some kind?”

I stifle a grimace. “Crescentia was kind enough to lend me her dress.”

“Yes,” he says, barely holding back laughter. “Very kind.”

“And let me guess,” I say wryly, glancing at Cress, who’s already drawn S?ren deep into a conversation about a letter she received from her father. “Our Prinz was kind enough to invite you to enjoy a good meal before you set off to Vecturia?”

He lifts a dark eyebrow and drops his voice as well. “I was mistaken, Thora. It’s only trade-route issues. Far less interesting.”

He’s as bad a liar as S?ren, unable to look at me when he does it.

I fake a laugh. “Trade routes, Vecturia. To me, one is as interesting as the other. I don’t even know where Vecturia is,” I lie.

He smiles, relieved. “I won’t lie to you, Thora. I’ve got a month or so of hardtack and watered-down ale to look forward to. S?ren offered me a good last meal as a distraction today, and I couldn’t take him up on it quick enough.”

He glances pointedly to the other end of the table, where Crescentia and S?ren are in conversation about the Theyn, though S?ren’s eyes keep darting about like he’s searching for an escape. They meet mine briefly before slipping away again.

I turn back to Erik, raising an eyebrow. “They make a sweet couple, don’t they?”

“I don’t think sweet is the word S?ren would use,” Erik says, lowering his voice to a whisper. “The Kaiser has been pushing the match since S?ren got back.”

S?ren clears his throat loudly across the table, shooting Erik a pleading glance. “Erik actually got his start with me under your father’s command as well,” he tells Cress. “Isn’t that right, Erik?”

“Duty calls,” Erik murmurs to me before leaning toward Cress.

“That’s true, Lady Crescentia. I was twelve at the time. It felt like I was meeting a god,” he says. “In fact, would you do me the honor of taking a walk around the pavilion while we wait for food to arrive? I can tell you stories about him you’d find quite amusing.”

Cress frowns, eyes narrow. She’s about to refuse with some excuse or other, but S?ren cuts her off.

“Erik is the most gifted storyteller, Lady Crescentia,” he says. “I think you would enjoy walking with him for a moment.”

Crescentia’s nostrils narrow—the only outward sign of her displeasure, and one that likely went unnoticed by S?ren and Erik. With a gracious smile, she rises and takes Erik’s proffered arm, allowing him to escort her to the edge of the pavilion, casting a wary glance at me over her shoulder.

S?ren reaches for the crystal wine decanter and moves his chair a few inches closer to mine as he pours me a glass, the liquid as red as fresh blood. He doesn’t look at me, instead focusing on the task at hand and taking his time with it. A lock of golden hair falls into his eyes, but he makes no move to push it aside.

I’m painfully aware of Cress just a few feet away. Though she’s out of earshot and politely listening to Erik’s story about his first battle under the Theyn’s command, her eyes dart to me every few seconds, wary and suspicious.

The whole court wants to see S?ren and Cress married, it seems. Cress and her father certainly want it, and Erik said the Kaiser was pushing for it as well. The only one dragging his feet about it is S?ren, and I don’t understand why. Kalovaxian marriages are never about love—that’s what affairs are for. Marriages are about power, and as such, marrying Cress should suit S?ren just fine.

“Thank you,” I say to him when my glass is full.

His bright blue eyes snap to mine and linger for a moment before he shakes his head and drops his gaze. He knows I’m not thanking him for the wine, but for talking to his mother for me, for saving me from becoming Lord Dalgaard’s latest victim.

“Don’t mention it,” he says. I can’t tell if it’s modesty or a command.

We lapse into a tense silence again, full of things that can’t be said, lies that I’m worried he’ll see through. Just over an hour ago, I was casually planning to murder him, but sitting across from him now—a living, breathing person—it seems impossible. I fear my plots are written across my face. Finally the silence becomes unbearable and I settle instead for almost-truths.

“I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to your mother privately before. It was…enlightening. I like her.”

“She likes you, too,” he says.

Across the pavilion, Cress’s looks are getting more pointed, her eyes boring into me no matter how many reassuring smiles I give her. I angle away from S?ren, deciding to stop looking at him as well. Which makes my job even more difficult; S?ren will be leaving again soon, so my time is limited.