Page 33 of The Shadows Between Us
Myron leans over. “Smile, darling; everyone is watching. Come now, or I shall have to strike up a conversation that isn’t appropriate for the luncheon table at all.”
My lips turn up, but it’s more of a grimace than anything else.
I honestly can’t say which devil is worse, the one on my right or the one on my left.
I didn’t sleep a wink last night. Instead, I’ve been plotting how to get out of my situation with Myron. So far, I don’t have any ideas, save outright murder, but I need to be patient. And somehow make sure Myron doesn’t jeopardize my standing with the king.
Leandros, Petros, and Rhouben sit together on the other side of Rhoda, chatting among themselves. Oh, I would give anything to be on that side of the table.
Melita Xenakis, Rhouben’s betrothed, keeps a firm grasp on his arm, as though if she doesn’t, he’ll escape from her. Rhouben attempts to eat his food with his other hand while blatantly ignoring her.
Melita, however, keeps looking over at this side of the table in between each bite of food.
At Orrin, I realize.
Is that admiration in her eyes?
How interesting.
“What do you think of Lord Eliades’s charitable acts, Lady Xenakis?” I ask, speaking over the top of Orrin’s next dull remark.
Melita jolts as though coming out of a trance. “I beg your pardon?”
“Were you not admiring the earl’s generosity? Or was it something else?”
Red flames her cheeks. She turns away from me and leans into Rhouben. I glance back and forth between Rhouben and Orrin. Orrin is certainly more handsome, which would probably entice a vain woman such as Melita. I’ve had several more conversations with Leandros and his friends since that first lunch meeting. I know Rhouben is the firstborn of a viscount. A very rich viscount. He will inherit one day. But Orrin is an earl. Already in possession of his land and title.
An idea begins to form. One that just might rid me of both Orrin and Myron.
“His Majesty, the King!” a herald booms, and everyone is suddenly on their feet. Hestia stands so quickly that her spoon flicks droplets of stew onto Orrin’s tunic. My mood improves ever so slightly.
Kallias strides into the room, takes one look at the empty seats at the head of the table, and says, “Lady Stathos?”
“Yes?” I ask, ever relieved that he’s here.
“Come join me, won’t you?”
I don’t wait for a servant to help me out of my chair. I fairly leapfrom it. Kallias watches me as I sweep past Myron, a look of sheer gratitude upon my face.
“Who is that man? I don’t know him,” Kallias says as I sit.
“He’s nobody,” I say in all honesty.
“Now I’m more curious.”
The great hall is back to chattering in full force, so I dare to raise my voice a little. “His name is Myron Calligaris. He’s the son of a viscount.”
“And how are you two acquainted?”
“His father had business with my father. We met on a few occasions when he would come over to the Masis estate.”
Kallias has his attention on his food, but I can’t help but feel as though the indifference is forced. “You’re friends, then?”
“Not anymore.” I make the mistake of looking down the table at Myron, who winks at me.
“He seems awfully friendly.”
That tone. Oh, how I wish I could read it. “You could group him with Eliades.”
