Page 33 of Ash and Roses
I choose at random, pulling out a quaint blue number accented by white lace and ribbon. The shoes don’t fit me, but I’ve never been much of a fan of heels, anyway. The dress is long enough to hide the flats I’d worn when I arrived, so I doubt anyone will notice. Whoever this dress was made for must be at least a few inches taller than me, and a much healthier weight. I wonder how long it would take to rid myself of a lifetime of malnutrition.
An hour hasn’t quite passed, but I head to the dining hall, anyway. I don’t mind waiting, and being out of that room will be good for me. I’m not a prisoner anymore, and I intend to take full advantage of my freedom.
When I reach the hall, I find I’m not the first one there. Quinn is standing not too far off, with Ruben by his side. They seem to be engaged in a hushed, yet heated discussion. I move a bit closer. Not to listen in, though their conversation does better reach me now. The prince requested my presence, and so here I am. That doesn’t mean I have to interrupt them.
“Tess said you wouldn’t let her examine you,” Ruben says, folding his thick arms across his chest. Quinn looks so small compared to him, and yet there’s an air of authority to him that definitely signifies status. There would be no questioning which one of these men is running things, despite their difference in size. That’s not to say that Quinn is lacking. Seeing him without his shirt last night had been more than enough proof of that.
“Because there was no need. It was nothing.” He sounds tired, as if he too didn’t sleep much last night. I wouldn’t be surprised if his shoulder is bothering him. My own hasn’t yet healed, and the burn of it has only worsened. I might have to let Tess look my wounds over again, though I’m sure it’s just irritated from my fall yesterday.
“I’m not talking about last night. You’ve never been back so long.” There’s an emphasis on ‘back’ that seems to stir something in Quinn and has his face hardening.
“I’m fine.” His words are even more clipped than before.
“It’s the girl, isn’t it? Her being here—”
“It’s not the girl.”
And just like that, things get awkward. I let out a small cough so they know I’m here. “Good morning Ruben. Quinn.” I don’t know why I greeted Ruben first. If the protocols here are anything like they are in Lunae, then I just snubbed the prince.And it felt fantastic.
“Abby,” Ruben says with a slight nod. I guess Fern really did tell everyone. I’ll have to find a way to repay her. “You’re looking lovely this morning, though I’m sure there was no need to go to so much effort for breakfast. Quinn certainly didn’t.” He elbows the prince in the side.
Quinn’s face has gone pale, though it’s not anger I’m seeing there. He doesn’t even seem to have noticed the massive elbow to his gut, only absentmindedly rubbing the area with a hand. After an uncomfortably long moment, he clears his throat. “Thank you for coming.”
He’s being unusually formal. “Is something wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I…” He pauses to find the words, only speaking again when his gaze falls to the floor. “You took me off guard. That was my sister’s favourite dress.”His sister.
“I didn’t know you had a sibling.”
“Siblings.” He doesn’t elaborate further, nor do I push him. Tess had told me that Quinn was the last living royal, which means that when the monster killed his parents, it killed his siblings, too. Arabella and I might not see eye to eye on most things, but losing her would be unimaginable. I wonder if that’s what she’s feeling now. There’s a good chance she knows I’m still alive. If she saw this in a vision, would she tell our father? Or would she let me go? I thought I knew my sister fairly well, but that’s a question I couldn’t hope to answer. She was never exactly my ally, but she never once tattled on me when I snuck out of the palace even though she blatantly disapproved of my relations with some of the Guardians.
Quinn leads me to the longest table in the hall. It’s the furthest into the room, centered against the back wall. We have to pass eight other tables—four on each side—that are about half the length of the head table. There are two place settings laid out on opposite ends of the table. Does he expect us to shout across at each other? Surely this is a bit excessive.
Only seconds after we’re seated, two servants appear, carrying a large assortment of food each. A tray is placed in front of both Quinn and me, and as quickly as they’d appeared, we’re left alone again. I didn’t even notice Ruben leave, but he too is gone. The air suddenly feels heavier, as if the weight of unsaid words is a tangible thing, applying immense pressure in on us from all sides.
Once we’re alone and seated comfortably, Quinn finally speaks. “I trust you slept well.”
Your fault.Jade’s words from my nightmare flash through my mind, and it takes everything I have to force the memory from my thoughts. “It was fine.”
Another long stretch of uncomfortable silence ticks by. “The boar bacon is quite good. You should try some.” Talking about food is as bad as chatting about the weather. I’m starting to wish I never left my bed.
“Regular pigs too good for you?” I’d meant that as a joke, but his face falls.
“We can’t keep livestock. It draws in the wildlife.” He doesn’t have to say it, but I know he’s referring to the monster as well. Tess said it doesn’t come into the valley, but how else would it have eradicated the royal family? Something isn’t adding up.
I lift a bite of bacon to my mouth, and it’s delicious. Part of me hates that he’s right, but when is bacon not delicious? “What did you want to talk about?”
“Ruben will escort you home today.”
I drop the remaining bit of bacon onto my plate. “You’re sending me away?”
“I’m returning you to your home.”
“Lunae is a prison, not a home.” I hate how panicked my voice sounds, but this isn’t the time to worry about what he thinks of me. I can’t go back there.
“You’re not the only person who feels a prisoner in their own home. You’re still a Daughter of Lunae, and you’ll be missed. The last thing Rosewood needs is a war.”
I can’t contain my laugh. “My father wouldn’t declare war over me. He doesn’t even know this place exists.” At least, I don’t think he does.