“Miss Delara,” said Taryel, and even in the swell of anger, hearing her name on his lips was transcendent. “Lovely to see you again.”
She wanted to melt to the floor, crawl under her chair and curl into a ball, dash back to her rooms and lock the door behind her. More than that, she wanted to drive her butter knife deep into Taryel’s neck. But the artifact responded to her piqued anxiety with waves of comforting caresses, lowering her back to earth.
How dare you, she thought, glaring at him.How dare you try to comfort me.
Lord D’Luc said, leaning sideways, “Don’t leave the poor man hanging.”
“Good evening, Mr. Aharis,” Ru said, biting out the words with a tinge of bitterness. She couldn’t wrap her mind around these revelations. The wine was taking effect now, and combined with the artifact’s comforting touch, she found herself, against her will, beginning to relax.
Lord D’Luc and Lady Bellenet shared a glance, but Taryel’s gaze remained fixed on Ru.
“He used to go by a different name,” said Lord D’Luc, lip curling as he glanced Ru’s way for just a breath. “Fen Verrill. Perhaps you recall that he is a former member of Miss Delara’s research team.”
Lady Bellenet brightened at this, glancing at Ru with interest. “How fascinating,” she said, as if she and Ru were in on some wonderful joke. As if she had not already known everything there was to know about Taryel and Ru.
The first course began to arrive. Conversation was suspended as footmen brought in bowls of spiced lamb stew. Ru took the opportunity to glance toward the regent.
The woman looked healthy and strong as ever, but now that Ru knew what afflicted her, the regent seemed smaller. A bright star, once powerful in the night, now diminished. The sight of her made Ru ache with grief for the woman who had ruled Navenie for many years.
But thoughts of the regent faded quickly, as Taryel’s presence begged for Ru’s constant attention. He seemed always to be watching her. She could feel his gaze hot on her skin. Lord D’Luc and Lady Bellenet seemed oblivious to it, engaging Taryel and Ru in lighthearted chat, asinine topics that Ru could not begin to care about — the rise in popularity of the pianoforte, or the higher cost of silk in winter, or an arresting book of poetry Lady Bellenet had recently read.
Ru nodded thoughtlessly along with the conversation, forcing herself to react in the way a cultured young woman should. She didn’t want Taryel to know he affected her so deeply, that her stomach was in knots and her heart was a bleeding, gaping wound. Though he likely knew it already, could feel her somehow through their connection with the artifact. Even so, she kept her expression light, pretending.
But as dinner progressed, her thoughts were always on Taryel, and she knew that his attention remained on her. The air between them crackled with tension, unspoken words, and, in Ru’s case, an angry, unwanted desire.
Did he see her as the enemy now? she wondered. Did he want her as much as she needed him? The slight curve of his mouth said he might, the glint in his eye, like a hunter watching a mark. The artifact began to encourage her, its comfort turning to a lustful heat until just a glance from Taryel had Ru aching with desire.
She relished and reviled every moment of it.
“Taryel,” said Lady Bellenet, when the last of the dinner plates had been cleared away, and trays of tiny cubical cakes and coffee were laid out. “Do tell us about your previous studies with Miss Delara. Hugon speaks little of her, beyond the basics of her progress. What is she like as a colleague? As a woman?” She shot a brief, unreadable glance at Lord D’Luc.
Ru stiffened. Why not askherwhat kind of scientist she was? Why not askherwhat she meant to do with the artifact now she was here at the palace?
“Unnecessary to discuss the matter,” Lord D’Luc replied, leaning back in his chair. His smile seemed stiff, uneasy. “The artifact is the key.”
“Theheartof the matter,” added Lady Bellenet, with a knowing smile. “True, she is but a conduit. As Festra’s will was done through Taryel…”
“His will be done through the Keeper,” Lord D’Luc finished.
Ru stared, horrified at both the terrible wordplay and the fact that she was being ignored so blatantly. Lady Bellenet seemed strangely happy to make light of the artifact, its horrific truth. And worst of all, as Ru watched Lord D’Luc with Lady Bellenet, she realized that he deferred to her. He did not have the mindless look of a Child, but he bowed to her nonetheless. Lady Bellenet held his leash.
Likewise, Ru had thought Lord D’Luc was in control of the regent, but she’d been mistaken — Lady Bellenet was.
What kind of person was Lady Bellenet, then? A power-hungry fanatic, or something else entirely? The woman seemed almost girlish in her demeanor at times, yet she held the two most powerful people in Navenie in the palm of her hand. If shewasa fanatic — and Ru was convinced she was — then Lord D’Luc’s talk of both science and religion was beginning to make sense. He dreamed of scientific progress, but Lady Bellenet was Festra’s devoted follower, and Lord D’Luc, in turn, was devoted to her. His eyes were always on her; his posture deferred to her.
Then Taryel began to speak, and Ru’s thoughts fled.
“You asked about Miss Delara,” he said, his voice catching her by the heart and twisting. “She was a pleasure to work with. Her mind is unlike any I’ve come across, even here at the palace. She is a wonder.”
He caught her eye as he finished speaking. Ru’s chest ached.
“You’d dismiss the King’s Scholars so quickly?” asked Lady Bellenet. “Miss Delara is young. And practically a peasant.”
Ru clenched her fists, twisting her gown with unspoken ire. Her skirt was definitely ruined.
“Why else would you have brought her here,” Taryel said, ignoring the remark, “if you didn’t find the palace’s offerings to be lacking? Of course I dismiss the King’s Scholars when compared to Miss Delara.”
Ru’s cheeks burned. She didn’t know whether to be enraged or flattered.
