Purposely ignoring her, I stride to the door. “I believe it's time to go. Mother will be here soon, if she isn't already.”
As we walk to the dining room, my face feels naked. I never realized how much I draw on the face paint to mask feelings. I fight to keep my nerves from showing and quicken my pace. I've been away from mother almost two weeks, I'm not sure if I'm excited to see her, or dreading it.
“Mother isn't going to like this,” Cynthia says, a step behind me.
“I'm not residing with her anymore.”
“What if Chancellor Zade doesn't like it either?”
I shrug and try to put the thought from my mind.
“You really should put it on. Think of what he could do. Has it really been so long that you've forgotten all of Father's punishments?”
My steps falter for a moment before I continue. “I've been punished enough times, I don't think one more will make a difference.”
Cynthia grabs my arm pulling me to a stop. “But he's much bigger than Father and more powerful. What if you're seriously injured? I know you don't want to think of it, but he could do worse things. Don't you remember the incident with Thomas?”
Gently, I push her hand from me though her words strike unease. “Don't fret so much.”
She bites her lip. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I am. Now we must hurry or we'll be late, which is worse than absent face paint.”
Keeping the fear away is a struggle as Cynthia's words haunt me. I doubt myself. Why did I feel this was necessary? Trying to be like a girl from something I shouldn't be reading anyway. What possessed me to think it was a good idea? I don't want this marriage, but the alternative makes me ill. Soon enough, we are in the sitting room right outside the dining hall. The forest green sofas and chairs are empty.
“Perhaps I should...”
“Should what?” The Envadi's voice comes from behind me.
I can't imagine how someone so huge gets around without being seen or heard. He must use magic. Following a moment's hesitation, I turn my bare face directly to him. Cynthia moves closer to me. The Envadi says nothing, merely raises an eyebrow.
No immediate punishment. The tightening in my chest loosens. “I should check if my mother has arrived.”
“Indeed I have.” Mother enters from the same door the Envadi used, her burgundy dress tight against the swell of her belly.
The Envadi says, “Should we go in to dinner?”
We watch, waiting for him to take the lead. He catches my eye a moment, then goes to the door and opens it. “After you.”
We stare at him another moment. Mother takes a tentative step. Before she gets any farther, she looks at me for the first time and gasps.
“What is it?” the Envadi asks. “Have you fallen ill?”
Mother stares at me another moment with wide eyes. They narrow and I ready myself for a lecture. “I felt faint for a moment. I'm well now.”
“Are you certain? You can rest a minute.”
“No need to fuss, I'm well.”
“Let's see what cook has made then. I'm sure we're in for another treat.”
Mother scowls at me and pads into the dining room. Cynthia and I follow. The walls, tables, and chairs are all made from a dark wood. Though the table is long enough to sit twenty, there are only four places set.
Cynthia and I stand by our customary chairs. Mother stands behind a chair across from us. As the Envadi does every meal, instead of taking his seat as he ought, he motions for the servants to help us all sit at the same time. It takes mother a moment to follow suit, but once she's settled we fall into our silent meal.
When the dessert course is set before us, an assortment of fruit and vanilla cream, I go straight for the strawberries. Before I can take a bite, the Envadi breaks the silence.
“Fruit from the garden. Apparently the main gardener owed Chancellor Jacob's family some money and they settled by using his magic talent on the grounds. They say he has a knack for getting things to ripen whenever he desires. These peaches are tasty.” The barbarian wishes to discuss fruit? With us women? He turns to mother and says, “Don't you think so, Agatha?”
Mother drops her fork. “Why, yes.”
“Which is your favorite?”
Tentatively, she says, “The peaches. As you said, they are good.”
He nods. “And you Cynthia, which one would be your favorite?”
“The peaches, Chancellor.”
He takes another bite while we stare at him through lowered lashes. “What do you think, Serena?”
I hate peaches, but I'm not supposed to contradict him. With Father I always knew where my boundaries were. Now, I'm not so sure. Time to find out. “I like the strawberries best.”
Mother and Cynthia gape at me. The Envadi smiles. “A dissenter? Granted, the strawberries are good, but not as good as the peaches. They've ripened to perfection.”