Free Web NovelChapter 37: Of Courtesy, Blood, and the Shape of a Lie
Chapter 36: Of Courtesy, Blood, and the Shape of a Lie
"And you truly have the audacity," Jacinta said coldly, folding her arms across her chest, "to ask me such a question?"
Lucian did not move.
He remained where he was, perfectly composed beside the small tea table. Only his eyes followed her.
"You did not appear for half of breakfast," Jacinta continued sharply. "And when you finally condescended to arrive, you did not even spare me a glance."
Her chin lifted.
"You stood there," she said, her voice tightening with wounded precision, "as though I were entirely unworthy of your notice."
Lucian regarded her in silence for a moment longer than politeness required.
Then he spoke.
"You were not unattended."
The simplicity of the words unsettled her more than if he had defended himself.
"You were surrounded," he continued calmly, "by a number of gentlemen who seemed eager enough to occupy your attention. I did not imagine you were in need of another."
Jacinta’s mouth parted slightly.
She stared at him as though he had uttered something faintly obscene.
"I am your cousin."
"I am aware," Lucian replied.
Her fingers tightened where they pressed against her upper arms.
"And," he added gently, "even if I am numbered among the suitor candidates, it would still be expected that you converse with the others. That you allow them their opportunity. You are not meant to speak only to me."
The faintest flicker of irritation crossed her face.
She rolled her eyes with open disdain.
"And where, pray, were you, then?"
Lucian hesitated only briefly.
"I was occupied."
"With what, exactly?" Jacinta demanded.
He shifted his weight slightly.
"I took a walk through the palace grounds," he said. "I misjudged the path. It has been some time since I was last here."
Her lips curled.
"Oh, truly."
She tilted her head and regarded him with something close to cruel amusement.
"You were forever wandering off when we were children," she said lightly. "It seems I ought not to be surprised that you have managed to lose yourself again."
Lucian’s mouth lifted faintly at one corner.
"I am afraid I have not improved in that regard."
She scoffed.
"One would imagine that a grown man might develop a better sense of direction."
He shook his head once.
"I regret to disappoint you."
Their exchange might almost have sounded civil, had it not been sharpened by the faint, restless tension that pulsed beneath every word.
The Queen cleared her throat.
Both of them turned at once.
Her Majesty had remained seated throughout the exchange, her posture upright and composed, one gloved hand resting lightly upon the arm of her chair.
"Jacinta, dear," she said gently, "you interrupted a private conversation."
Jacinta stiffened.
"I was speaking with His Grace, the Duke of Aurelgrave," the Queen continued calmly.
Lucian inclined his head a fraction.
"And you entered in some distress," the Queen said, her tone mild but unmistakably firm. "I should like to know what matter prompted such urgency."
Jacinta’s folded arms loosened. Her shoulders drooped with theatrical suddenness.
Her lashes lowered immediately; it was as though she were putting herself together for a play all of a sudden.
The transformation was immediate.
She stepped forward, breath hitching softly in her throat.
"Mama..."
The word emerged thin and trembling as she sank to her knees.
Her hands closed in the heavy folds of the Queen’s voluminous skirts, gathering the silk as though it were the only solid thing in the room.
"It is not right," she whispered, her voice quivering.
"It is not right what I am forced to endure beneath your own roof."
The Queen inhaled slowly.
"Jacinta," she said quietly, "what is the matter to make you lose control like this?"
Jacinta pressed her cheek against the Queen’s knee.
Lucian watched the display in silence.
"It is that girl," Jacinta sobbed softly.
Her fingers tightened.
"That good-for-nothing peasant."
The words dropped like something sour into the stillness.
"The one who bears the demon mark."
The Queen’s hand stilled in Jacinta’s hair.
Lucian’s brow drew together.
"There is such a person within the palace?" he asked carefully.
Jacinta lifted her head and gave him a look, her eyes wet and her lips trembling.
"There is."
Lucian turned his gaze toward the Queen.
"I was not informed—"
Jacinta cut him off at once.
"Of course you were not." Her tone sharpened abruptly. "You have been away too long."
She straightened slowly from her mother’s knee, still kneeling, still clinging to the skirts.
"You may have forgotten," she said pointedly, "but I have not."
Her eyes flicked toward him with open resentment.
"The woman who dared to seduce my father," she said, her voice low and vibrating with contempt, "is the very same woman who brought that creature into this world."
Lucian’s lips parted slightly.
His eyes sharpened.
"There is a child—?"
"She is not a child," Jacinta snapped.
"She is a stain," she said fiercely. "A reminder of shame that should never have been permitted to breathe palace air. To walk the same path I walk."
Lucian studied her expression, the trembling fervour in her voice, the naked delight that glimmered beneath the grief she performed.
"And do tell, who is this person you speak of?" he asked her. "I fail to recall any such person within the palace walls while I was here."
Jacinta rolled her eyes at his words.
"Of course you would fail to remember her. Your memory always fails you when it is rather important," she told him.
"I apologise for my memory always failing me when it is rather important," Lucian said.
Jacinta huffed in reply. "I know you do not mean the apology," she told him. "But anyway, since you seem not to know who I am speaking of, it is Lyria."
Lucian paused in shock.
"Lyria?" he asked, only to confirm.
Jacinta nodded.
"For someone you picked on when we were little, you seem to have forgotten about her... though I cannot blame you. She is unimportant, after all."
