A Throne of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales #2)(105)

“What do you mean?” I asked as he led me to the place settings.

“Servants here used to go through rigorous training. Perfection was expected and demanded. If a servant couldn’t fulfill the requirements, they were let go or moved to a less strenuous position. All of that has changed, obviously. Most of the current servants haven’t had any training for their positions at all.”

“And they also try to fulfill their duties badly so they don’t get noticed by the demons.”

“That as well, yes. When I dress like this, with you like that, using the finer areas of the castle…these things stand out. It’s…humbling. Frustrating.”

It was sadness, though, that radiated through the bond. Probably sorrow for what had been lost. For a glory he clearly thought he’d never regain.

He stopped by the seat at the head of the table. A guy in the same fancy dress as the others strutted forward. His confidence was somewhat undermined by the way his shirt didn’t quite button over his bulging belly. The arms were too short, and white socks shone under the black trouser legs that didn’t reach his ankles.

He pulled out the finely crafted head chair and waited patiently.

So did I.

Nyfain pulled his arm forward, moving me closer to it.

“Oh,” I said in confusion.

He took a step back.

I put my hand to my chest. “Me?”

“Yes, princess,” Nyfain said softly, his eyes deep and open. “You.”

When he said “princess” this time, it didn’t sound condescending. It sounded like a title.

Goosebumps stood out on my arms as I stepped forward, taking the seat and then waiting for Nyfain to sit beside me.

“Shouldn’t royalty or the person with the highest social standing take the head of the table?” I asked. I couldn’t help it.

“Yes. In this case, it is the person who will make the most difference in this kingdom. When I went off in search of your pants, I met a few people traveling to the nearest everlass field. They were in awe of your knowledge and determination to heal. They’ve taken your deal, by the way. The higher classes will work with the poor to see that the sickest members are treated first, regardless of class. The woman that is typically in charge of healing the village met with Mary…”

“Anne. Maryanne.”

“Right. They are creating a network of healers and trying to educate as many people as possible so that the entirety of the village can help. Much like in your village.”

“It’s the best way.”

“Yes.” His mouth twitched. “And I can only imagine you offered plenty of…encouragement to push the people in your village to work together, as well.”

I opened my mouth to refute the statement, then reconsidered. Could he be right? It was highly likely. I’d been too young to care about social norms and polite conversation, too worried about my mother after losing my nana. I had wanted the death to stop. All of us had. It hadn’t taken much to convince everyone to acknowledge that medicine wasn’t something only gifted to the privileged, not that we’d had many of those in my village. I’d just made them see reason.

Wine was poured in the super-pretty crystal glasses. I reached for the water.

I was sure I wasn’t pregnant. Mostly sure. Mostly hoping I wasn’t, at any rate. I’d taken the tea each night since my argument with Nyfain, and the timing was probably off. Still…better safe than sorry until I knew for sure, if only to keep him from wigging out.

The first course was brought out by Mr. Belly and his helper, the guy who taught watercolors. I wrestled with a smile.

“What?” Nyfain asked as the fancy gold-rimmed bowls were set in front of us.

I waited until the staff had moved away before I told him about Hadriel’s watercolor penises.

He huffed out a laugh, picking up the soup spoon and sliding it sideways across the lip of the bowl before slowly bringing it to his lips. Talk about refined. Suddenly I wasn’t so sure this meal was a great idea. I could pull off a fancy dress with some help from Leala, but I wasn’t so sure I could pull off a fancy meal.

I gave it a go anyway, totally copying him. He paused after a moment, thoughtful, and dipped the spoon how we would’ve at my house.

My stomach pinched, and I set down the spoon.

He followed suit.

“What are you doing?” I asked him, my hand now hovering over the silverware resting in the bowl. Crap, maybe I should’ve put it beside the bowl.

“Following your lead.”

Only he hadn’t looked.

“Why? What do you mean?”

“Finley…I can feel your nervousness and embarrassment. I know this isn’t normally your scene. There’s no one here but me, though. And a few servants who have no fucking clue what they are doing. Please be yourself.”

“It’s just…” I tapped the handle of the spoon. “I…”

“Look.” He picked up the spoon again. “I think we can both agree that I don’t spend much time acting in a way befitting someone of my rank. Even when I try, my dragon makes shit of it. I’m swearing at the table. Surely this is enough to make you feel comfortable eating a meal in my presence? I’ll save the polite eating for when I’m trying to tease moans out of you, how is that?”