In the Veins of the Drowning(42)
As planned, I entered on Lachlan’s arm. Theodore walked ahead of us, toward the table, and poured himself a full glass of wine. He downed it in one desperate gulp, but still managed to look perfectly composed. Lachlan walked me as far away from Theodore as he could and filled two glasses.
“Your face,” he said.
I set my fingers to my cheek. “What’s wrong with it?”
“You’re red as a slapped ass. Breathe. Try to look more collected, less like your entire life was just upended.” He shoved a glass at me.
I took a long drink of wine, enjoying the way it shimmered over my tongue and swirled happily in my stomach. It was the best I’d ever tasted.
“A quick word of advice.” He gave me a dire, knowing look over the rim of his glass. “Whatever is between you two… there’s no harm in getting it out of your systems, but there’s much harm in getting caught. I beg you, be discreet.”
I glowered at him. “Has Agatha been speaking to you?”
“Not about this.”
“Gods.” I took another swig of wine. “There is nothing between us.”
“Imogen.” He adopted a sage tone. “There is nothing as insidious as denial.”
Before I could retort, Eftan shuffled into the room cradling a neat stack of black leather folders. He wore the same round-cheeked smile he had when I’d first seen him. When his gaze landed on me it slid clean off his face.
“Oh.” His mouth opened and closed. He blinked. “I didn’t expect… you. Here.”
Lachlan gestured to me with his free hand. “Chancellor, have you met the king’s distant cousin? This is Lady Imogen Nel.”
Eftan’s brow quirked. “His cousin? Oh. I—well.” He set the stack of folders onto the table with a loud thwack. Bewildered, he chewed on the air, then pulled a kerchief from his coat pocket and dabbed his upper lip. “Hello. Again.”
I inclined my head politely, then glanced at Theodore. He stood at the head of the table, fist around his refilled glass of wine. He’d watched the entire exchange with a terrifyingly empty look on his face, then grumbled, “Ahh fuck.”
The doors were swung wide by two liveried servants. I set my glass down on the table as three women walked in, all of them as glistening and pale as a midwinter’s frost. I could place the Empress of Obelia on her presence alone. Tall and widely built, she moved through the room with refined authority, like it was a mere signature away from being hers. Her gown was velvet in a deep midnight blue. Her skin was so fair it revealed the paths of the green veins at her temples. Snow-colored hair, long and straight, fell over her shoulders, and atop it sat a heavy crown of diamonds. At her neck sat a collar to match the crown, set with hulking jewels. And her lips, thin and so red it looked like she’d eaten a fistful of mulberries.
I fell into a deep curtsy as she and Theodore greeted one another.
“Theodore Ariti.” The empress had a reedy, melodic voice that lilted with her accent. Her greeting was friendly enough, but she did not smile. “You have the look of your father. More handsome, though.” She gave a gruff chuckle. “I’m sure he hated that.”
Theodore’s lips lifted into a half smile, and though I had not known him long, I knew him well enough to see that the mention of his father set him ill at ease. “Hello, Nivala. I certainly was a thorn in his side,” he said, charming and graceful as ever. “Please forgive my late arrival. I’m grateful you came all this way.”
Her white brows rose. “It’s an advantageous match. It’s necessary we see it done properly.”
Theodore gave an agreeing bob of his head and looked to the willowy young woman who stood behind the empress. “Princess Halla.” He put an enchanting tilt on her name that set the bond in my stomach into a jealous spasm. He took her hand in his and drew her nearer. “You’re even lovelier than your portrait.”
And she was lovely. She was my antithesis. Where my skin was a golden brown and my hair a dark, waving chestnut, hers were pale. Her near-white locks seemed to shimmer and were crowned with a thin diamond-and-pearl diadem. She was tall, like me, but angular, sharp as a shard of ice. She wore trailing white like brides in Obelia did. I couldn’t picture her fragile, airy countenance swallowed up by the harsh, customary black that Leucosian brides wore.
Or perhaps I didn’t want to.
She smiled at Theodore, and it was like spring cleaving winter’s hold. Her cheeks bloomed pink, her blue eyes were the clear sky, and her small, pouty mouth looked like a Godsdamned unfurling rose. Theodore brought her hand to his lips. The kiss took all of a second, but the way his full mouth pressed against her skin replayed slowly, distressingly in my mind. I felt Lachlan’s boot press into the toe of my slipper and realized I was scowling. I attempted a smile, but it only flickered over my face before I picked up my glass for a hearty gulp.
“Very good.” The empress strode to the far head of the table and sat herself down, mind clearly set on the business at hand. “Shall we begin?”
The third woman, dressed in less finery, laid out contracts and discussed with Eftan in hushed tones about what point would first be discussed. Lachlan pushed in my seat and sat beside me, promptly refilling my glass. It wasn’t until they were about to begin negotiations that the empress seemed to realize there were others in the room. “And who are these people?”