State of Sorrow (Untitled #1)(82)

“Doesn’t she like it?”

“Not one bit. They wouldn’t dare drink it if she was still here.”

Sorrow looked back at Rasmus, one hand over his mouth, the other clutching Eirlys’s shoulder as he laughed. He looked out of control, wild; for the first time his pointed ears and fey eyes made her uneasy. Perhaps Darcia was right, and it was the taste of mania. As she watched he gulped down more of the liquid, his eyes glittering with something deep and uncontrollable. It was a side to him she’d never seen before and she didn’t like it.

“Bathroom,” she said, excusing herself.

A guard pointed out the direction to her, and Sorrow was relieved to be away from the noise and atmosphere of the Great Hall. She lingered in the cooler room, running her wrists under the tap, allowing the cold water to slow her heart.

The door burst open, and Princess Eirlys stumbled in. Her cheeks were bright red, her eyes sparkling. She grinned at Sorrow.

“I apologize. The door wasn’t locked.”

“I’m finished,” Sorrow said, edging past the Rhyllian girl and back out into the corridor.

Rasmus was there, obviously waiting for Eirlys. The moment he saw Sorrow he began to walk back down the corridor.

“Rasmus?” she said, before she could stop herself.

He took two more steps before stopping, his shoulders high, spine ramrod straight as he turned slowly and looked at her. He’d pulled the tie at his throat loose and opened his jacket, exposing the white shirt beneath, the laces undone. In his left hand he clutched a small bottle, half full of clear liquid.

“Hello,” she said.

His face, which was carefully arranged into a bland expression, faltered for a moment. “Hello. How are you enjoying the party?”

“It’s lovely.”

“And Rhylla? How are you finding my country?” His accent had changed, she realized, since she’d last spoken to him. He sounded more Rhyllian now, more rolling “r”s and lilting tempo.

“It’s beautiful.” Sorrow could have kicked herself at the stupidity of her replies.

He took a step closer to her, looking her up and down, and her heart exploded into a tattoo of rapid beats. “You look well,” he said finally.

“Thank y—” She stopped herself. “That is kind of you to say,” she finished.

He nodded, as if it didn’t matter, as if he didn’t expect her to reply the Rhyllian way, before raising the flask in his hands to his lips.

Immediately his eyes changed. They looked metallic, somehow, the violet becoming steely. Her stomach tightened in warning.

“It’s Starwater.” He followed her gaze to where it rested on the bottle.

“I figured. Fain Darcia told me about it.”

It wasn’t a hint that she wanted some – after what Darcia said she had no desire to poison herself – but he held the flask out to her as if it had been. She hesitated for a moment, then took it, holding it loosely.

“I was sorry to hear about your father,” Rasmus said, unblinking eyes fixed on hers. “I would have written, only Lord Day made it very clear that word from me wasn’t welcomed by you. That it wasn’t appropriate.”

It was the first time any hint of emotion had coloured his voice, but it was bitter, his accent clipping the words so they felt like hailstones. “No one would have thought it inappropriate for you to offer your condolences to the daughter of a man whose home you’d lived in for the past ten years.”

“We sent a wreath.”

Sorrow choked on thin air, forgetting to be careful. “Oh, well, that’s all right then.” When he stared at her with a patient, blank expression, her ire rose. “This was a mistake,” she said. “I should have known better.”

“I’ll bid you goodnight, then.” He tried to leave, but Sorrow couldn’t stop herself.

“Rasmus. Can’t we… Can’t we be friends? I still care about you.” The words fell from her lips before she could stop them, and she knew even as they did it was the worst thing she could have said.

“Care about me?” His face drained so abruptly of colour it scared her. “Care? Stars, Row, why don’t you stab me in the heart and be done with it?” He turned and strode away.

“Rasmus, please,” she called desperately, knowing that if she let him walk away now she would lose him for ever. “That’s not what I meant. Ras, I’m trying – please listen to me.”

But he kept moving, and Sorrow looked down at the bottle, still clutched in her hand, and made one final attempt to stop him.

“You forgot your Starwater,” she called after him.

He paused, and half turned, his profile caught in the lamplight, and Sorrow breathed a sigh of relief. Now she could explain—

“Keep it. I know better than anyone how you like to experiment with Rhyllian things.”

His words struck her like a punch, and Sorrow folded in on herself, gasping. Rasmus walked away without a backwards glance.

At the sound of Eirlys fumbling with the handle of the bathroom door, Sorrow picked up her skirts and ran back to the Great Hall, to find Darcia and Lady Skae waiting for her.

The two northern leaders chatted happily on the journey back to the small palace, and Sorrow let their words fly around her, nodding and smiling in the right places. She even stayed in the parlour for a drink with the two of them, somehow managing to participate, until Lady Skae made her excuses and left.