Page 18 of A Cruel Kindness

Esme scooted a bit closer to me, resting her hand on mine. Her rings were ice cold, burning into my skin. That couldn’t be good for her. “We aren’t speaking because its what we normally do.” It was my turn to blink at her in confusion. I guess her and Ford seemed rather cold with one another but that was—“It gets terribly boring being forced to sit here together every day without any other company.”

Ford snorted, and Esme rolled her eyes dismissively.

“Why? You are—”

“Not a fan of each other,” Esme supplied, her face completely void of emotion. Even so, she’d cut me off from saying Soul Mates. My mother used to tell me that I was crazy, seeing things in people’s faces that weren’t really there or reading into the way someone said something by telling me, “Honey, you’re thinking too much.”

I believed her for a long time, until I realized that I had been right, and she just didn’t care to acknowledge that people could be hiding their true intentions.

Like a moth to a flame, I was helpless but to dig a little deeper into that reaction. Especially since Ford was staring at me like he was daring me to keep talking.

“How long have you been Matched?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

“Eight years.” They answered in unison, both of their voices cutting like freshly sharpened steel.

I opened my mouth to respond and try to ameliorate the tension, but Soren beat me to it. “Please don’t make being a Royal a thing. I would enjoy you all forgetting that little fact about me.”

I blinked at Soren. He’d … saved me. Out of pure curiosity, and yes, a level of impulsivity I had gotten good at controlling but had seemed to swell again in recent weeks, I was going to keep pressing on that sore spot. But he’d just swooped in and changed the subject seamlessly.

“It’s really the worst thing about me,” I added, though I was really just speaking to Soren. “I’m happy if you chose to ignore that trait.”

“I’d expect you to be a fan of your status,” Ford said, his first words the entire dinner. Okay, so he had a thing against Royals. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was part of an involuntary draft. He clearly had a chip on his shoulder about something.

“I won’t deny I’ve reaped the benefits of my privilege,” I answered carefully, my hard-won skills with diplomacy coming out. “But my family and I…” I considered how to say this without risking an allegation of treason. “Well, we differ considerably on almost every opinion in the book.” There we go. That should be vague enough to avoid getting my head cut off.

“The Emperor didn’t stop your enlistment?” Esme asked, cocking her head to the side in curiosity. She had quite a bright personality when she wasn’t speaking to Ford.

“Hard to stop a Soul Match,” I said, lifting my drink in mock cheers. That canned answer was normally enough to cut off that line of questioning. Better than having to lie about the fact that all my father said upon hearing of my new condition was, “Good.”

Later that evening, he’d said a whole lot more, but that was beside the point for now.

I felt something draw my attention, and realized it was Soren staring at me. He had his hands clasped in front of his mouth, elbows resting on the table, while his ice-blue eyes bore into me.

I shook my head slightly, hoping this Bond was strong enough already to convey my meaning. It would come out eventually, but it couldn’t happen now.

Soren’s chin dipped ever so slightly.

Even in that minuscule move, I knew he’d be asking me questions the second we were alone in our room—God save me—but he let it go for now. He knew the truth about enlistments in the Royal families.

I was no exception.

The rest of dinner chugged along with somewhat uncomfortable small talk. Once pressed, Esme opened up and started asking me a million questions about Royal life and Cor and my journey over. Soren was as pleasant as he was capable of being. Ford stayed dead silent, only looking up from his plate to stare at Esme when I made her laugh like the sound personally offended him.

After a while, someone called through the room, “You’re in luck. We have leftovers today.”

A few people shot out of their chairs and hustled toward the kitchen window.

“You get enough food?” Soren asked me from across the table, the words sounding like they’d forcefully pushed their way out of his throat.

I nodded, deciding not to fight any battles with him when it came to the more harmless aspects of the Bond. If he wanted to make sure I was fed, fine. I’d rather focus my energy on resisting the other … effects.

Seemingly satisfied, Soren grabbed both our plates and headed off to the kitchen to dispose of them. I hated to admit it, but when he reached that window—the furthest point away from me—I felt the distance like someone scratching at my skin.

I hadn’t even noticed that Ford left until Esme’s voice made me look back in their direction. “If you need anything, let me know,” she said, her voice soft and kind.

I nodded at her, getting the distinct feeling that she wanted me to reach out for her sake as much as my own. If I spent eight years with a Soul Mate who I wanted nothing to do with, I might feel the same.

She left after that, disappearing into the crowd.