Page 73 of The Rat King
“So, Jetta, I understand we have a lot in common,” I said, not that Nighval had ever mentioned this woman. It wouldn’t hurt to act like he had though, and then I wouldn’t appear blindsided. The way she was looking at him out of the corner of her eye, I suspected he was the one thing we had in common. I parked that thought train at the station. “My Aunt Esmeralda raised me. She’s a powerful witch, so I grew up around magic, too, but didn’t have any myself. She had the foresight to include me in many of the lessons as a child in case I ever had a daughter of my own who I passed on the gene to.”
Nighval’s hand squeezed slightly when I said the word daughter, but his expression didn’t falter, and I wondered if he realized he’d done it. Did he want children? I wondered if he had ever thought of it.
Jetta’s eyes softened almost enough that I couldn’t exactly hate her. “How smart. It does seem we have a lot in common. And it will be my pleasure to get to know you this week as I share the customs and expectations of our world as we prepare for the feast.”
Scratch that. I was officially not a fan.
A mind-numbing hour later, dinner was over. Dessert had been served. Each item barely met my new standard, but that was progress. As we stood, Link sauntered into the room, as if he were the king himself.
“How was I not invited to this dinner? And with such a beauty?” Link said, taking Jetta’s extended hand, placing a kiss upon it. He turned to me and bowed low, his tone decidedly colder as he said, “Your Majesty.”
It seemed Link’s opinion of me had dropped since the council meeting and since whatever else Nighval had told him. Unfortunately, I agreed with him, and this was my fault. I wanted to bring it up with him and let him know we were on the same page and that I planned to fix it, but he was adept at avoiding me. I needed to have the council members on my side, including each warlock.
“Jetta, Nighval,” Link glanced at me and reluctantly added, “Your Majesty, can I interest you in a nightcap?”
Before I said something I regretted, I excused myself and slipped out of the room.
Back in my room, I paced, stewing. Throwing open my wardrobe, I yanked every single shift dress off its hanger and tossed them out into the hallway. Then I tore the one I was wearing over my head and pitched it into the fireplace. The dress smoldered atop the embers, but didn’t catch. I’d have to fish it out of there later and throw it away. I was too tired to clean up a bunch of soot, so I sat on the bench at the end of my bed and stared at the open wardrobe.
Tears threatened to spill over the rims of my eyelids, and I looked at the ceiling, determined to keep the salty liquid in my eyes and not let it fall. I would not be defeated by them. The way I saw it was I had two choices. I could put on something enticing it go down there and make them all like me or I could crawl under the covers and try again tomorrow.
I walked over to the hanging clothes and pulled out a sleeveless navy jumpsuit the palace tailor and I created. I threw it on, reapplied some soft pink lipstick, and pinched my cheeks. Though not as sultry as Jetta, I still looked good. With my warm coloring, the bright jewel tones washed me out, but a dusty navy, which Nighval would like, made my skin glow.
As I approached the room they’d retired to, voices drifted through the open door. “Don’t worry, Jetta, she’ll warm up to you. She’s passionate.” I could hear the smile in Nighval’s voice, like he was proud of his unruly wife. Still, annoyance bubbled to the surface, knowing they spoke about me behind my back.
“She probably feels threatened. Look at you, Jetta. You’re a vixen,” Link said, his voice a tease.
“Why would Avery feel threatened?” Nighval asked, and I had to give him credit. His confusion seemed genuine.
“There is no threat,” Jetta said. “That was a long time ago and only a brief tryst, Link. We’re both much happier now that we have found what works for us.”
I knew it. They had been a thing, but at least it was old news. I stepped into the room. Jetta and Link were at opposite ends of a long, tufted leather couch against a wall with a painting of a hunting scene. A large red rug sat off center beneath it, and next to an overflowing bar cart, Nighval reclined in a black leather wingback chair that had to be custom built because he didn’t dwarf it like one might expect. Surface level scratches marred each piece of furniture and looked like someone attempted to buff them out with leather oil and did a decent job.
He must like this room, so I decided I’d leave it as it was. Some things I could come in and change, but sometimes imperfection made a place feel like a home. I sauntered over to the cart and poured myself a finger of a deep brown liquid, as I’d noticed that is what everyone else was drinking.
“What works for you?” I asked, wondering how much she’d disclose.
Jetta didn’t blink, saying, “For me, women. For him, you.”
It was embarrassing how relieved I felt, but it was short-lived.
She glanced up and down at my figure, eyebrows wrinkling. Nighval was used to my unusual outfits, and I knew this jumpsuit would confuse her. “What are you wearing?” she asked.
I gave her a sweet smile as I perched on the arm of the wingback Nighval sat in. “It’s called fashion. Maybe as we get to know each other, I could teach you?”
Link spit out the sip he’d just taken, and Nighval’s warm hand encircled my waist as he leaned forward. Jetta’s eyes flashed, before she erupted in a fit of laughter. Her annoying mirth was contagious, and a chuckle escaped my lips. Soon I was clutching my stomach, shaking with humor. I wiped beneath my eyes and regarded her.
“Does this mean we’re friends now?” she asked.
“Only if you tell me where you get your mascara,” I said, and a puzzled expression crossed her face. After her laughing fit, the product hadn’t even run. I looked at my own black smudged fingers, then to her clean ones with envy. “Mascara. You know, the stuff you put on your eyelashes. I had some from my plane that my aunt had spelled to be refilling, but I lost it in the Wildwood with the rest of my backpack.”
Link leaned forward. “What were you doing in the Wildwood?”
Nighval’s arm around my waist squeezed, and I patted his arm. Link already knew and was trying to test me. But he didn’t know I knew. “I was doing something really stupid that I deeply regret, and I activated Samara’s wards. They chased me, and I had to get rid of it because it was too heavy, so I dropped it. Now no more magic makeup.”
“You had magic makeup and lost it?” Jetta asked, and I nodded. “That’s a tragedy.” She winked at me, and I knew she’d glazed over the difficult part of what I’d said on purpose. Perhaps I could be friends with her after all. Goddess, as the warmth at the thought of a friend flooded through me, I realized how lonely I’d been without. And this woman Jetta, my new friend, was here at the behest of my thoughtful husband.
Still her words didn’t stop Link from interrupting my happy moment by giving me an assessing look.
