However, Claude also routinely forgot what didn’t directly involve him.
“I don’t want you to be lonely,” he said, and he meant it.
That’s why I smiled at him. “I’m not.”
Claude was quick to return my smile and lean away, turning his attention back to whatever. I’d given him what he wanted. Reassurance that I was happy. He sought that because he cared, but also because he was afraid if I wasn’t, I’d leave. But what I’d given him was a lie. Because I was—
I stopped myself as if that could somehow change how I felt.
I grabbed the chalice, drinking half of the wine in one gulp as I stared at the gold crevices etched into the marble floors. My mind went quiet, only for a few seconds, but that was all it took for the hum of voices to ratchet up. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and held it until I severed all those unseen strings as they began to form in my mind.
After several moments, I exhaled softly and opened my eyes. My gaze flicked out over the crush, the faces a blur and my mind my own.
In front of me, Hymel leaned against the dais. He glanced back at me, the mouth framed by a neat beard twisted into a sneer. “Is there anything you’re in need of, pet?”
My expression showed nothing as I returned Hymel’s stare. I didn’t like the man, and the only reason Claude tolerated him was because he was family and because he took care of the more unsavory tasks of running a city. For example, Hymel enjoyed being sent to collect rent, especially if payments couldn’t be made. He was unnecessarily hard on the guards and taunted me whenever he got the chance.
He wanted me to respond to him as I did when others stoked my temper. I had what Hymel called “a mouth” on me. However, I’d learned to keep that mouth in check. Well, about ninety percent of the time. But when I was really mad? Or really nervous or scared? It was the only defense I had.
Except, come to think of it, it wasn’t really a defense. It was more like a self-destructive tendency, because it always, always got me in trouble.
Anyway, Naomi once told me it was because he had problems performing in bed, unable to find release. I didn’t know if that was true or not, and I found it ironic that such a being could have such difficulties, but caelestias were as close to mortal as any Hyhborn could be. They didn’t get as sick as often and were physically stronger. They didn’t need to feed as Deminyens did, but they weren’t immune to diseases. Either way, I doubted that was the driving force behind Hymel’s meanness, or the only one, but I did know one thing about him for sure.
Hymel was a particular kind of cruel, and that was what he got off on.
He smirked. “You’re like a favored hound, you know that, right?” His voice was low enough that only I could hear him, since Claude had turned his attention to one of his cronies. “The way he has you seated by his feet.”
I did know that.
But I’d rather be a favored hound than a starving, dying one.
Hymel wouldn’t understand that, though. Those who never had to worry about when their bellies would be full again or if those rats scurrying through their hair at night carried diseases had no idea what one would do to keep fed and sheltered.
Therefore, his opinions and those of others like him meant nothing to me.
So I smiled, lifting the chalice to my lips, and took another, much smaller drink.
Hymel’s eyes narrowed, but then he turned from me. He stiffened. I followed his stare. A tall man dressed in finery walked out of the crowd. I recognized him.
Ellis Ramsey approached the dais, heading for the Baron. The shipping magnate from the neighboring town of Newmarsh stopped to bow deeply before the Baron. “Good evening, Baron Huntington.”
Claude nodded in acknowledgment as he extended his arm toward one of the empty chairs to his other side. “Would you care for some wine?”
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I don’t want to take up too much of your time tonight.” Ramsey gave a tight smile that did nothing to ease the harshness of his grizzled features as he took the seat. “I have news.”
“Of?” Claude murmured, glancing at me. It was quick, but I saw.
“The Westlands,” he said. “There’s been a . . . development.”
“And what would that be?” Claude asked.
Ramsey leaned toward the Baron. “There are rumors that the Westlands’ Court is at odds with the King.”
My little old ears perked right up as I lowered my chalice and opened my senses. In a room of so many people, I had to be careful not to be overwhelmed. I focused only on Ramsey, creating this imaginary string in my mind— a cord that connected me directly with him. Thoughts could be hard to make sense of— sometimes I heard more of a collection of words that either matched what one spoke or were something completely different. Either way, it always took me a moment to gain my bearings, to decipher what I was hearing out loud and what wasn’t being spoken.