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Using the proper quill and ink pot provided, I start to copy it with my best hand. I’ve always enjoyed calligraphy, so the task isn’t entirely tedious, at least until I reach the fiftieth note. My wrist starts to ache by then. “Why you bother to send so many handwritten notes when a stone message will do, I’ll never know.”
“So they may admire your penmanship as much as I do, feather.”
“Featheris not going to be a thing,” I quip, just as someone knocks at the door.
One of the footmen opens the door to the formal lady in blue I’ve met twice before. I pay more attention to her now. She wears her shining blonde locks tied at her nape. I see sapphires shine in her ears, and the Reiks coat of arms is stitched at her throat.
“Ah, Peria. Come, meet my feather.” His voice drops. “Alis, Peria is my liaison with my father’s castle. She ensures I remain informed of any relevant events and turn up when I’m supposed to. Peria, Alis.” He doesn’t bother to introduce me beyond that.
“I remember her breaking one of your regalia.” She sneers at me like my very existence offends her. Then she smiles at Reiks as though she hadn’t just shot daggers at me. “Your Grace. It’s six, so you have a number of guests waiting for your convenience.”
“By all means, send them in.” Reiks might have sounded more enthusiastic if he’d announced he had to watch paint dry.
“Are you eating in tonight, or shall I order a car, sir?”
“Have the kitchen send something up for Alis and I whenever it’s convenient for my chef, please. We’re staying on campus.”
Peria nods stiffly and leaves, her lips pursed in displeasure.
“Yousofucked her,” I gleaned the moment the door shuts.
Reiks doesn’t bother to look up from his work. “My biggest regret in life.”
I think of my biggest regret, and shake my head in disbelief. “She can’t have been that terrible of a lay.” Or his life has been entirely too pleasant.
“The backlash certainly was.” He wrinkled his nose. “I had heronce, five years ago—before she was assigned to me. She’s been a nightmare since. She snaps at anything with a vagina getting too close to me, and reports back to my father about them all.” Reiks glances at me. “The king will know your name by the end of the day.”
I care little for what the king of a backward country I don’t intend to step in thinks of me. “Perhaps you ought to have stayed away from too many vaginas. Weren’t you engaged?”
He glances up. “Betrothed. There’s a difference.”
I pity the children of families who still insist on dictating the course of their lives. Valina doesn’t allow any of her descendants to force their children into marriage. One of my many blessings.
I think back to the day of Blythe’s death. He’d been so angry. “You didn’t care for the girl, then?”
Reiks’s silver eyes find mine, but my intense curiosity is met with disappointment. The doors open again before I get an answer, revealing at least three dozen people I don’t know. They’re dressed to impress, in their finest frocks and adorned with diamonds. To look at them, you’d never think they were in a school dorm. This is a small court of sorts.
Four servants enter after the flock, armed with trays. They directly come to Reiks’s desk, offering him the first choice of drinks.
“Apple wine, if you would.”
The sharply dressed waiter picks a glass, fills it with green wine and takes a sip, then hands it to Reiks.
“Miss?” another servant prompts.
I choose ink-black wine he serves in a gilded flute. “I’ll pass on the tester.”
The formal man’s mustache hikes up in disapproval. He looks at Reiks for guidance.
“I don’t need to tell you what happened to the last woman seated beside me,” the prince cautions me.
I shrug. “I’m harder to kill.”
Reiks waves the servant away. The four attendants move to offer refreshments to the crowd in the hall.
The first taste of black wine has me licking my lips in delight. Reiks serves the good stuff. No wonder he has so many visitors. Keeping the flute as far from the invitations as my side of the desk allows, I get back to my work. When I’m done writing what feels like the thousandth letter, I stretch my neck.
During this moment of reprieve, I notice no one’s approaching the desk. The strangers loiter in the hall, divided in small groups, shooting furtive looks our way. “They’re not going to talk to you?”
