Maris rolled his eyes behind the hostess’s back. “We don’t want to sit with those apes anyway,” he whispered to her.
Agreeing completely, Zayra came to an abrupt halt as she saw the small side table that had been pulled out for them. “Small” being the operative word. It must have been an end table in the conference room. The chairs were tiny foldaways with stained gray cushions. And while the linens were clean, they, too, were stained in places.
It was the ultimate slap in the face. But for Darling, she’d be throwing a tantrum over it.
Instead, she smiled at the woman and graciously sat down while Maris followed suit. Never let them know how much they’ve hurt you. Don’t give them the satisfaction. Her father had raised her on those principals and she held them tight. Starskas didn’t flinch or bitch.
They got even.
Lady Nylan left them.
Zarya picked up her napkin and placed it primly in her lap. “They don’t think much of us, do they?”
Maris shrugged. “Fine with me. I don’t think much of them either.” He pulled one of the two hard breadsticks out of the water glass someone had put it in, and held it out to her. “You better eat up, sweetie. I’m pretty sure they won’t have extra food for us either.”
“You okay?”
Darling nodded at Drake as they walked down the quiet hallway with Ryn, Chayden, Hauk, and Fain. “I’m glad to be done with it.”
For the first time in Darling’s memory, Drake looked at him with respect. “They weren’t as bad as I thought they’d be. And you… you were incredible. I can’t believe how well you handled them.”
“Yeah well, when you spend your entire lifetime being a verbal punching bag, you learn how to effectively strike back when you need to.”
Ryn rubbed at his temples. “I don’t know about you guys, but I swear I have a migraine. I wish I could blow off dinner.”
“You know we can’t.” Darling allowed Drake and Chayden to lead them into the dining room.
Like Ryn, he had a vicious migraine of titanic proportions. But at least Nylan hadn’t said a word during the session. He’d been waiting for the bastard to speak up and firebomb him in public.
Miracles do happen.
Instead, Nylan had simpered and smirked the entire time. Which was fine by him. Smirking he could handle. One word from the bastard and he might have snapped.
May the gods help them then.
As they entered the dining room, he scanned the crowd for Zarya or Maris.
Neither was present.
A bad feeling went through him. Hoping he was wrong, he went straight to Kiara and Nykyrian who stood off to the side with Caillen, Syn, and Desideria.
“Where are Maris and Zarya?” he asked as soon as he reached them.
Fury burned in Kiara’s eyes. “They were seated in the hallway near the kitchen.”
Darling scowled at the news. “What?”
“Yeah,” Syn said bitterly. “Nylan’s wife said that the additional guests”—he indicated their small group—“caused them to run out of seats at the main table. So the two of them were given seats outside.”
Forget what he’d just gone through. This… this angered him more than anything else ever could. “Bullshit. They could have added an extra leaf while we were in session.”
Caillen held his hands up in surrender. “He’s just repeating what they were told.”
“Fuck this shit.” Darling stormed past them, ready to go to war. Before all was said and done, someone was going to lose their head over this.
Literally.
20
Laughing at Maris’s joke, Zarya felt a chill go down her spine. She sobered as the skin on the back of her neck crawled like a living creature.
When she turned her head to see Darling’s furious glower while he stalked toward them, she understood the uneasy knot in her stomach. This wasn’t the levelheaded politician who’d met with the gerents.
This was the feral soldier, Kere. And he was out for blood.
Maris rose at Darling’s approach. “What’s going on?”
Darling broke out into a furious rant in Phrixian… one day, she was going to have to learn that language. It was aggravating to have no clue what they were saying around her.
Maris attempted to calm him, but Darling was having none of it.
Ignoring Maris, he turned toward her. “Come, Z. We’re leaving.”
She hesitated before she stood up. “Aren’t you supposed to be with the gerents?”
“Yes,” Maris hissed, “he is. If he fails to attend dinner, it’ll be viewed as an affront to them.”
“And what is this,” Darling gestured angrily toward them and their table, “if not an affront to me?”
Maris scoffed. “It has nothing to do with you. This is a slap at me and you know it.”
“I totally disagree. But let’s say you’re right. It’s still a slap at both of us, and I won’t tolerate them treating the two of you like this. I won’t.”