“Unless you’re depressed. Living’s bad if you are, so I hear.”
“Are you depressed?”
“… No.”
“Then it’s reassuring!”
All I get from her is some extra grumbles, some which I think are best for me not to hear. She brings back three outfits to our quarters, and presents herself for the feast shortly in a blushing red dress. It’s nice, I’m sure, and there’s probably all sorts of fancy descriptions for it, but I don’t care. At least she looks like a resplendent wife to anyone else. And that I feel a little less silly in wearing my red bow-tie and waistcoat. My mother always says it’s good to match. Makes us appear as if we’re in unity to onlookers. Our esteemed family guests this banquet are Barrowmans, and I completely understand my father’s need for urgency. The Barrowmans have us by the balls when it comes to the production of cotton and silk, which is always a product that sells well for us.
I’m grateful to be seated next to Bobby, because I’m not up for all the small talk today, though Bobby is tripping over himself in apology for interrupting earlier.
“Relax. It was going to happen eventually,” I say, not mentioning, of course, that we still haven’t actually fully completed nuptials as husband and wife. Bobby, however, has been working hard for an apology, and slides me over a Farmhouse dark brew. Fantastic beverage. An expensive one, too. Guess he was saving it for a special occasion. Rayse, of course, broods as viciously as ever, annoyed at the focus on us. He might as well have some facial tic developed from hearing Hartson be said over the table.
The dark brew’s a strong drink, and I gleefully make my way through the whole casket. I notice that same male servant from before smiling at Pearl, and I squint at him, though he doesn’t seem to notice. I’ll have to keep an eye on that one. Servants continue to crawl in and out of the banquet hall, providing extra courses and drinks. I wish Jensen and Pippin are here. They’re not as close as Bobby’s family are, though. The Endmores are of a higher status than them, and rarely get invited to alliance feasts such as this.
“Nasty fucker, isn’t he?” Bobby says, jerking his thumb towards a man who resembles a bear. Gerald Barrowman. Second cousin to us, though I don’t know the precise heritage details. “Looks like he could rip your throat out with his thumb and pinky.”
“Nah. He’d have to use his whole hand,” I say, now noticing that Rayse has slid his way over to them, and has engaged my living tank of a second cousin into conversation. It could be perfectly innocent – not everything Rayse does is to spite me, but I highly doubt it. A small wave of dizziness hits me. Perhaps I’ve drank too much, but I want to make my way over there and find out what’s going on.
“Sorry man, but I really don’t like your brother,” Bobby says then, yanking me out of my intentions. “Doesn’t he look like some squirming toad over there right now, talking with that dude?”
“He does a bit,” I agree, not bothering to hide my sneer. The drink flows inside, bold and strong. It’s fairly common knowledge in our clans that we don’t get along. And that if the clan was ever led by him, we would potentially see a full-blown war between us and the Hartsons, rather than the occasional skirmishes and seething hatred we suffered through in the past.
There are, of course, people just like him, who slaver for that day to come.
“Toad’s too nice a word for him,” Pearl says then, speaking up for the first time in a few minutes. “He’s a dangerous and hateful little man.”
“Don’t let him catch you saying little,” I grin, struggling to form my words. “He might just work himself up into a fr – a frothing faint.” Whew. Now the drink’s hitting me. It’s a good burn, though my head feels stuffed with wool.
Pearl lets out a snort of disgust, and seems about to say something, when she notices the attention of more than a few people on her. She shuts up instead, and gets drawn into conversation a few moments later with that accursed servant again. I prefer the Graves guards. Even though they routinely inspect and eavesdrop upon us to make sure no abuse is happening, they do it as discreetly as possible and serve us with respect.
Since I don’t want to create a spectacle, I let it happen, though I long to just punch that idiot Grantmore stable boy in his stupid face. How dare he talk to her. I know his game. He thinks he can stick his dick in my wife. I drain my mug and reach for more liquid from the casket.
“Mate, you’re drinking too fast,” Bobby hisses to me, and I scowl. He’s probably right. My father’s droning on about something. Our Bonecleaver ally is being conspicuously ignored, precisely because of the fact of his heritage. At one point, Rayse points at Pearl and says something, and Gerald Barrowman smirks.
That’s it. My brother, that servant, this boring feast, these awful people and all this posturing and pretending to be nice and words so sweet they make teeth ache – I’m done. I don’t have the patience for this kind of shit. I just want to be back to two hours ago, when Pearl and I were about to fuck for the first time since our marriage. God, why can’t I be there instead?
“Pearl, c’mon,” I say, grabbing her by the shoulder. “Let’s go. We have – have unfinished business.” I wink at her, though I feel the pressure to get us out of here before my brother does something to shame us all, or I do.
Her eyes widen. Instead of her looking flattered or aroused, however, her lips purse into a tight line. “I’m not about to leave in the middle of a feast. How d’you think that’s going to look?”
“What? You were, you were eager for this earlier,” I say, dimly registering her and Bobby wincing. Did I say that too loud? My head’s spinning. The emotions blur together. Have to get out. Can’t she see how bad this will be? “Everyone already thinks that’s how it is with you anyway.”
Her eyes flash, and her voice grows cold. “I am not that kind of person.”
I jab at the retreating servant she was talking to. “If you speak to vermin like him, people will, they’ll think otherwise. He’s after one thing from you only. I’m your husband. Don’t let him sniff around your skirts –”
“What the hell is the matter with you?” Pearl hisses, her teeth clenched. Hands grab me from behind, and I flail at Bobby, who is now manhandling me from the chair.
“I’m sorry,” he stammers to Pearl. “He’s had way, way too much to drink. Come on, mate. Let’s get you out of here.”
“M’fine,” I retort, resisting, straining against my friend’s bear-like arms. “My fucking brother, you know, I bet he sent that Grantmore to talk to Pearl. He’s talking to that Barrowman – spreading lies about my wife –”
“I’m not spreading lies,” Rayse says over the deafening quiet. When did it get so quiet? “I’m merely telling the truth.” He smiles wickedly. “You can dress up the pig and teach it etiquette, but it’s still a pig at the end of the day.”
Gasps erupt around the table. Women react with shock, and Pearl burns red, tears spluttering through her eyes. Bobby’s grip tightens. But it’s not enough to hold me. Screaming in fury, I lunge across the table, hands outstretched for my brother.