Page 72 of The Rat King
The wiry man scuttled into the room, stopping short as he saw us. I gave him a once over. His hair was unkempt, a pale purple shadowed his eyes, and he fidgeted like Avery had him utterly frazzled. I chuckled internally. Good.
“Well,” she sighed, but her eyes were bright, betraying her words. “Of course, I can handle it.” Avery eyed the waiting adviser, then me, unable to suppress the grin which kept attempting to sprout. She’d just gotten her stay in our world extended indefinitely, though I hadn’t officially said it. Knowing her, she’d consider it a victory. And that elation would overpower the fatigue she must be experiencing with all this work.
While she was a one-woman motorcoach, I suspected with everything she was doing, she needed help, but was too proud to ask for it. That was fine because I knew the perfect person to offer her support. Avery had been here for almost a year now and hadn’t had the opportunity to establish many female friendships. And while, to my knowledge, the various curious visitors, castle staff, and tradespeople had heeded my warning and treated her with kindness and acceptance, I don’t know that she had warmed to anyone.
Jetta Proudfoot, daughter of one of the oldest warlocks in Ras alhague, Hager Proudfoot, could be a little abrupt upon meeting, but she was a steadfast and loyal friend.
“Perfect. I’ll see you this evening for dinner.” Before she could reply, my magic was working, and I was gone.
Chapter 52
Avery
Thehourbellgongedthrough the hallways of Ravsted, echoing off the stone walls. My eyes shot to the bronze clock I’d temporarily borrowed to use in the sitting room while the other more interesting one was at the watchmakers for repairs. It was the first room Leviticus brought me to when he first gave me a tour of the castle, and I decided to turn it into my office. I’d cleared out all the furniture and had a plush gold rug brought in along with a simple desk with side drawers large enough to store my stacks of paper.
I kept every object on the shelves and had them each dusted or polished. Otherwise, only two other chairs in the room were sitting beside each other in front of my desk. I found a warlock to fix the windows which had previously leaked, and along the wall beneath them were a dozen color boards for the varying rooms in Ravsted.
I had only addressed the spaces that were used the most frequently. Meeting rooms, reception rooms, the banquet hall, my room, and then, of course, a hall of guest rooms. We’d need more rooms to be brought up to the new standard now for the party. I jotted down a note to get with Leviticus about that.
I wanted to do Nighval’s room, but I was too frightened to bring it up and he hadn’t said anything. I hoped he didn’t take it as a slight, but my husband seemed as impervious to my efforts as he’d been to my apology. At least he hadn’t forced me to go back to the palace, so I wasn’t planning on complaining. And now he planned to announce me to the kingdom as his queen. That was a good sign, right?
The borrowed clock ticked loudly, reminding me of the time. It was the dinner hour, and I was expected. Occasionally, others joined us. Despite that, this was one of the few times I had unfettered access to my husband when he wasn’t off on some important mission, so I wouldn’t miss it.
I glanced down at my attire. He hated these shift dresses, but they were easy to move in, and I didn’t have to worry about looking perfect. I liked to wear them as I worked, because I found my gym apparel got too many strange looks. Giving myself a once over in the mirror above the small fireplace, I decided this would have to do because I didn’t have time to change. I was already late.
Skipping through the hallways, I wondered how much of my advice the cooks had taken this time. It seemed incremental changes with them worked the best to bring them to my way of thinking. If I had to eat another heavy stew, I might retch. Tonight, I expected a lighter chicken broth soup with vegetables and orzo like pasta I taught them how to make and a salad. I wasn’t a great cook back home, but I watched enough cooking shows to fake it well enough. That and my aunt had me chop so many vegetables growing up as a child and do my fair share of the grunt work in the kitchen, I wasn’t afraid to dive in.
My upbeat mood, which was spurred on by my productivity, immediately stuttered as I rounded the corner to the dining hall and caught the sight of a lithe woman speaking to my husband. Her black hair hung in a glistening sheet down to the two tight globes that were her ass. The way she moved her hands as she spoke, and the demure set of her shoulders told me she was an elegant woman. That, and the glittering blue dress she wore that hugged her physique, but seemed to cover everything. A thick matching belt accentuated her curves, cinching a waist as narrow as mine.
I stepped into the room and my heart dropped as they turned to me. Her face was even more beautiful than I could have expected. Her alabaster skin was nearly flawless if it weren’t for a single scar which ran from the corner of her lip down her jaw. Her lips were as red as an apple, and just as shiny. Bright blue doll-like eyes were rimmed in a thin ring of eyeliner, and I had to figure out what she was using for mascara because her lashes looked amazing. She was giving me total Maleficent vibes, and I hated how perfect she looked standing next to my equally severe husband.
My jealousy flared in twisting waves. I was late, and they were chatting and having an enjoyable time while I had been busting my ass. I was queen and my aunt taught me never to apologize for myself. As I tried to glide into the room, I remembered what I was wearing and, in that instant, decided I would burn every single shift dress I owned.
Still, I kept my chin high and said, “Thank you for waiting on me.”
And because I knew Nighval wouldn’t embarrass me, I walked up to stand beside him and placed a hand on the small of his back and a possessive hand on his forearm, so our bodies were nearly touching.
Nighval tilted his head down toward me and raised an eyebrow before addressing the woman. “Avery, this is my dear friend, Jetta Proudfoot. I asked her to come here because as a warlock’s daughter, she is familiar with our world and the expectations of official gatherings. I thought you could learn from her, and you might need the help. She is a valuable resource, and I know you two will get along splendidly.”
Oh my god, this woman was my worst nightmare come to life. Here I was trying to win my husband back over and he brought this stunning woman because he thought she needed to teach me things because apparently, I wasn’t doing a sufficient job. Every hair on my body bristled. This was going to take a hell of an acting job to make it through this dinner, and then I would get rid of her.
I held out my hand to shake, not thinking, and then at the last minute turned it so my palm was facing the ground. How embarrassing allowing this woman to disarm me, but weren’t people supposed to kiss royalty’s hands? I mean, I hadn’t seen anyone do that here, but I could pass it off as that, right? Amusement danced in Jetta’s eyes, but she dutifully took my hand and pressed her red lips to it. When she pulled away, she left a lipstick impression on my hand, and I thought my head might explode.
“Pleased to meet you, Your Majesty,” she said.
“Actually, my wife prefers it if those in her close circle call her by her given name, Avery. I know you two will work so closely together titles will become cumbersome.” Nighval looked awfully proud of himself, and I didn’t know if he brought this woman to gloat or what exactly was going through his mind, but thisJettawas not in my inner circle, and I had a suspicion she would never be. I barely even had one. April and Alice seemed to still like me after learning I’d killed Xavier and then there was Link, who was friendly with me before. At least until that little conversation when Nighval had confessed to them what I’d done.
“Your Majesty is fine for now,” I said, blinking sweetly, to which Nighval shot me a frown.
I ignored it and gestured to the table. “Please, let’s sit. I’ve been working with the cooks on some new recipes. I’ve been looking forward to what they’ve prepared for us all day.”
Nighval held my chair out, and I sat immediately, reaching for a sip of water to soothe my parched throat. Across the table, Jetta had the audacity to remain standing until my husband walked around and held her chair out for her as well. I had to gulp down the liquid, so I didn’t spew my water across the table.
“Thank you, Nighval,” she said, her sultry velvet voice dripping with sweetness. Then she turned to me and said, “Avery, you have quite the catch here. I hope you know how lucky you are.” She patted his hand in a way that was almost mothering if she didn’t ooze sex.
Unclenching my teeth, I said, “I am quite aware of every glorious facet of the man I have married.” His hand was atop the table, and I reached over and threaded my fingers through his. Worry lines creased his face and his gaze darted between us as if he were questioning the decision he had made.
Damn it. Here I was, lost in my jealousy and the man whose heart I was trying to win back had done something he believed was nice, and I was treating thisdear friendof his rudely. I really needed to shake it off. That didn’t mean I was going to let go of his hand, though.
