A Web of Steam & Puppet Strings (Sevastyan #1)

Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

Why wouldn't Anastasya tell anyone?

Why would she simply watch me with that knowing glint in her eyes?

As I thought about it, as the seconds crawled by, a realization furrowed my brow—she hadn't spoken at all. Not a single word. Was she mute? Was she so fragile that her vocal chords didn't vibrate?

She didn't speak at all through the excruciating process of five courses. Seared salmon, braised lamb, roasted elk. Saliva trickled down the walls of my mouth, jaw clenched as my stomach rumbled. Luckily it couldn't be heard over the clink of utensils and the crackle of the fireplaces.

I despised that food. I despised the food of the wealthy. It had been so long since I'd tasted it on my own polished fork with a cloth napkin in my lap and my hair combed back. The food had always prickled my tongue with its formality and useless rituals and tailcoats fitted too tight.

But when I remembered what I'd have waiting for me back in the Chambers, I would have settled for licking the perspiration off the caramelized flesh of the elk.

It must have been nearly two hours and eight more careful shifts of weight from one leg to the other before Isidora finally set aside her napkin on the arm of her chair and stood. Illarion stood as well, still wiping crumbs from the fur of his chin.

"Well," she said as a servant in white pulled back her chair. "Another lovely supper. Anya, dear, are you coming along?"

Anastasya's gaze flickered to me, and in a voice that made a murmur sound like a holler, she said, "I'll be along in a moment, mother. I'm a bit winded."

"Tut, tut. I'll leave behind a few guards to escort you back when you're ready, then."

"I won't be much longer. You know how these experiments of yours perturb me."

"Quit your complaining, it's unbecoming. What would His Royal Highness think if you can't hold your tongue like a proper lady?" She didn't wait for a response, as seemed to be the usual protocol. The servants pulled open the doors for her to exit, and she left without glancing back.

Illarion placed a hand lightly on Anastasya's shoulder to bid her goodnight, and left through the same doors. The remaining servants made to clean up the plates of half-eaten leftover food, but Anastasya lifted her hand to stop them. "Would you leave the room for a moment? I'm afraid I've quite a terrible headache coming on, and the movement makes me ill."

The worst excuse I'd ever heard.

The servants, however baffled they were, bowed their heads and wordlessly escaped through the servant doors, leaving only Anastasya and the rest of us 'experiments'.

The rows of toy soldiers budged. Thank sweet Mother Earth. We moved for the exit, keeping neat and marching softly as the two lines filed out through the main doors.

But then she stood, and I glimpsed her from the corner of my eye as she moved with startling vigor right for me. My stomach wailed with anticipation before her hands snagged fistfuls of my waistcoat and yanked me out of line.

She tossed me over to the table, and as soon as the last heel of my fellow inmates passed through the doorway, she peered into the corridor and called out to what must have been lingering soldiers, "Thank you, men, but I'll be fine. Go on ahead back to your positions."

With a blast of wind, she shut the doors herself.

And then she turned on me with the crack of a bolt of lightning, the heavy train of her dress sweeping across the wooden floor. Her eyes drilled into me with all the knowing in the world.