Page 33 of The Ruthless Fae King
When I entered the dining hall, I was disappointed to see Lucien’s father, Vincent sitting at the table holding a glass of wine and glaring at his son.
I had hoped it would be just us, and that his father would go sleep off his drunkenness somewhere. Maybe he was like this all the time? Was this normal for them? I shuddered to think it. I had never seen my father this drunk. It was improper, especially of royalty.
“Mr. Thorne.” I curtsied to him. “Wonderful to see you again.”
He looked at his son. “You don’t deserve her,” he said, and my spine went rigid.
Lucien’s jaw clenched and he waved his butler over. “We can be served now.”
Lucien was just going to ignore that ugly comment? I felt a little sick at how verbally abusive Lucien’s father was being and he was doing nothing about it. It was a far cry from the hot-tempered man I had just spent a few days on the road with.
Lucien sat at the head of the table with his father to his left. I sat on Lucien’s right with Piper next to me.
“Do you like your living quarters?” Lucien asked me as a hot steaming stew was placed before me.
I nodded. “They’re lovely. Very large. I might get a little lonely. It’s bigger than anything I had at the Fall Court palace.”
Lucien’s eyes hooded over. “Well it’s only until we are married. Then you will be joining me in my rooms, right?”
I nearly choked on my stew. I couldn’t believe he said that in front of his father. But I also was excited at the prospect that he didn’t want the typical arranged marriage and separate rooms.
“Right.” I laughed nervously.
Piper was grinning. I kicked her lightly under the table.
Lucien’s dad hadn’t eaten any of his soup. Instead, he upended the wine cup into his mouth and then stared at me. “Why would you marry him?” he asked with a stony expression.
“Father, stop it,” Lucien said under his breath.
“Don’t tell me what to do!” his father snapped, flicking his hand towards his son. An icicle shot from his palm and cut into the side of Lucien’s face before crashing into the wall behind him.
I gasped, waiting for Lucien to retaliate. But he didn’t. He just pulled a napkin to his cheek and hung his head in embarrassment.
This happens all the time.
The thought horrified me. I wanted to take my knife and cut his father’s cheek in retaliation, but I knew that was insane. I’d never felt this protective over someone. The king was more powerful than I was and didn’t need my protection normally, but… it seemed with his father he did. This man had abused him before; otherwise Lucien wouldn’t be so docile.
Since he was a child? I didn’t know. Definitely since his mother died. Lucien had stopped fighting for whatever reason.
I stood and his father tracked my movements. Walking over to Lucien, I tipped his chin up to look him in the eyes. I wasn’t prepared to stare into the gaze of a small, wounded boy. It gutted me, and a fresh wave of anger rushed through me. “I’d like to eat dinner with you alone,” I told him. “Do you have a smaller dining room?”
Lucien’s face relaxed into my hand and the scared little boy retreated. “I do.” He stood, grabbing his bowl of stew.
Piper grabbed our bowls and we walked to the huge open doors of the large dining hall.
His father’s scoff sounded behind us and I turned to look back at him. He was glaring at me now.
“You may join us for dinners when you are sober,” I informed him, and we left the room.
It was a silent walk down the hall. A few of Lucien’s wait staff followed us in confusion. Lucien led us into a small dining room with just two seats and a small round table. There was a huge window on the far wall that overlooked the magnificent snow-covered fields behind the palace.
I glanced at Piper after she set my bowl down, and she waved me off. “I’ll be in the corner.”
One of Lucien’s staff grabbed a chair and small standing tray for Piper, and she sat in the corner of the room, eating alone. I felt bad for her, but after Lucien and I were married she wouldn’t need to follow me around like this. It was to protect my reputation, I knew, but it felt silly at times, especially times like these when I wanted so badly to have a private conversation with him.
Lucien sat next to me, eating his stew quietly and staring out at the falling snow. It was coming down in clumps and looked magical.
“I quite like this room. I think we should take all of our meals in here,” I told him.
