Manu grins at him, rubbing the spot where his husband jabbed him, and I think these are my two new favorite people ever.
“Do you guys play drinking games?” I ask, perking up.
Manu snaps his fingers and points at me. “See? I knew I liked you. I can always spot the fun ones.”
With a smile, I try to find the damn serving girl, but she and my wine are still nowhere in sight. My mouth is watering from all the smells of the food. The very second the sun sets, I’ll be stuffing my face and downing a cup.
“I’ve told the servants you’re not to drink wine tonight.”
Midas’s words startle me, jerking my head in his direction. “Why not?”
He looks at me coolly, and there’s something there, some flicker that I hadn’t noticed until right now. “Because I said so.”
The curled up creature inside of me yawns, the stretch of anger waiting to see if it wants to awaken. Midas is wound up tonight, either because of Third’s presence or something else.
And then it hits me.
He knows. Of course Scofield and the others would’ve reported to him that Rip carried me to my room. My stomach ties into knots, and worry flares in my head. Did he do something to Digby because of it?
Or…would he prefer to punish me?
I can feel eyes on me, loaded gazes watching us, and it makes my anger flush with a wave of embarrassment. Yet I keep my attention on Midas, on the critical glaze in his eyes.
“I don’t want you getting obnoxious on wine, Precious,” he says with scathing politeness, making heat hit my cheeks at implying in front of everyone that I’m some sort of lush unfit for company.
“Am I allowed to have water, Your Majesty?” My tone is on the bad side of saccharine, too smarmy to be sincere, and I know I’ve gone too far.
Beneath the table, his hand comes down hard on my thigh, and I tense as he pinches the skin hard between his finger and thumb. Even though he’s doing it over my skirt, it still hurts, the fabric barrier doing nothing to block the sharp pain.
Harder and harder, he squeezes, but I school my face. I don’t let myself flinch. I don’t even blink. He can pop off the skin for all I care, and I’ll still sit rooted here like a damned daisy, because I won’t give him the satisfaction of wilting.
The table has grown quiet beneath mine and Midas’s stare down, his attention on me just a few seconds too long, his face just a few degrees too harsh with his supposed favored.
“My father didn’t trade with Thirders, and I can’t imagine why we’d start now with how high your trade tax is,” Prince Niven drawls, his young, nasally voice distracting Midas. “Can Third’s resources truly justify their worth for that kind of fee?”
Everyone looks at the queen now instead of me, her fork pausing on its way to her mouth. Niven sure has his princely pompousness down, but when it comes to tact, he’s severely lacking.
Midas’s hand thankfully drops away from my leg, leaving the spot throbbing in pain. My skin prickles as blood rushes up to it, but I ignore it in favor of the political drama.
Before Midas can smooth things over, the queen looks at the prince with an edge of provocation. “We Thirders don’t need to trade with your ice people, Prince Niven,” she says coolly, tone as sharp as the spires on her glittering crown. “Third Kingdom flourishes, with ten times more resources than your slab of snow. King Midas invited us here to strengthen our alliance, and we are here because it could be beneficial to our people. But make no mistake, you need us more than we need you.”
Prince Niven blushes furiously in a patchwork of raggedy reds across his cheeks and neck, but Midas intervenes before the boy can shove his foot in his mouth again. “Sixth and Fifth Kingdoms are grateful for your presence, Queen Kaila. Any new trade agreements we can come to will surely benefit all those involved.”
She gives a terse nod, while her brother Manu, no longer looking so jovial, leans in and whispers something into her ear.
When Manu settles back, the queen takes a drink, seeming to gather herself and dissipate the tension in her face. “I forget how young you are, Prince Niven, and still mourning your father. You are indeed lucky that King Midas has come to aid you in this time of transition for rule.”
In other words, you’re an idiot, kid.
Niven sits up in his chair, as if to make himself look taller, older, though his baby face and the cowlick at the back of mussy brown hair kind of kills it. “My thirteenth year is only two months away.”
Kaila smirks. “Ah, thirteen,” she says reflectively. “That’s when my powers manifested. You remember, Manu?” she asks, turning toward her brother.