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The broken families, the confusion and fear we only made worse… My throat tightens at the thought. But as with my too tight dress, wine still fits.
After dinner, our generation enjoys the lounge together while the kings, queens, lords, and ladies retire to the parlor.
Lillian remains close to me, chatting animatedly. “I’ll be so grateful to have a sister.”
“And I’ll be so pleased to have a sister who will never try to set me on fire.”
Nina smirks. “Sounds like life will be rather boring in Ceraun.”
“I don’t see how life anywhere could be as exciting as it is here, with magic running in everyone’s veins.” Lillian looks awed by the entire thing.
“Exciting may not be the word you’ll use when your niece or nephew blows you over.”
Thank you for that reminder, Nina. “There’s plenty of time to prepare you, Lillian.” I drain my wineglass. The idea of Jamys and I having children together was warm and cute when we were in Brasport, but here, with tensions rising again, it’s a disquieting proposition. Or perhaps it’s because I can never feel closure with Tomas present.
Jamys trades my empty glass for a full one and sits next to me. I thank him, wishing I could maintain my warm feelings for him around Tomas. He is so delightfully kind and thoughtful. I should adore him.
It’ll come. Once we’re married, it’ll come.
Jamys has a smile girls must swoon over. “I’m glad to see you enjoy our wine so much. We’re quite proud of this vintage.”
“It was very kind of your family to bring it. I only fear it won’t last terribly long.”
“Not at the rate you’re going tonight.” Tomas’ comment draws my gaze to where he eyes me from a card table. In a far corner of the room, a phantom gust knocks over a vase. The shatter attracts everyone’s attention, but Tomas keeps his eyes on me to see me flip him off. He only shakes his head.
I take a mental note of which maid cleans up my mess so I can leave her something nice later. Actually—I blink a few times—I should write it down. Tomas’ observation was somewhat accurate. The edges of my vision blur in a barely acceptable range.
“The wine is wonderful,” Tomas says. “I’m surprised Arabella enjoys it so much, though. This isn’t the style she typically prefers.”
“How is that?” I ask.
“This is quite complex and subtle. Any time I’ve presented you with such wine, you thoroughly enjoy it, and yet, if you can’t immediately identify the varietal, you act as if you’re cheated.”
He is not having this conversation like this. “I beg to differ. I’ve always been the first to sing praises of your wines.” As I’m always the first to do anything with us. “Though I will say, this is a little sweeter, which I do enjoy.”
“I’ve heard you don’t name your wines for the grape,” Jamys says. “Quite the interesting practice. In that way, we are more straightforward in Ceraun.”
“How very refreshing. It is easier to manage expectations when one knows what they’re getting.” I stare at Tomas as I take another drink of the wine in question.
“If you like it,” he says slowly, “why does it need to scream what it is at you?”
“I may not need to know what it is if I’m only going to have a glass—”
“You enjoy wine by the barrel.”
My cheeks flame as I gape at him. “Well, I’d need to know what it is if I’m to purchase more.”
“It doesn’t matter if your parents won’t let you buy it.”
I suck in a breath to throw my response—
“I doubt you’re ever denied anything you desire,” Jamys says.
Gods, he’s still here. I should be grateful; I almost said something very, very stupid. This conversation has blown caution out of the water and possibly logic. I’m not sure how much sense any of it makes anymore. Tomas’ commentary certainly doesn’t.
“Of course not,” I say to Jamys. “Tomas forgets I’m grown now.” And a princess can have anything she wants…
“Growing up together will do that,” Jamys says. “Friends start to feel like additional siblings.”
