Lies of Light

57

24 Marpenoth, the Yearof the Banner (1368 DR) Second Quarter, Innarlith

The meat had not been cooked at all. Willem stared down at it, trying to find it in himself to be disgusted, but he couldn’t quite muster it. He kept his hands in his lap.

“I told you, no,” Phyrea whispered.

She sat at the other end of the dining table, and had no place setting in front of her, just a crystal tallglass of red wine that she wasn’t drinking. She looked off through the arched doorway to the sitting room, staring at empty space as though someone stood next to the sava board between the two wingback leather chairs.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked. His voice, pitched no louder than normal, seemed to boom in the still, heavy air of his dining room.

Phyrea shook her head, still looking at nothing, then turned toward him. Her eyes blazed with what Willem could have sworn was fearbut what could she possibly have to be afraid of?

“Were you speaking to me?” he asked.

In an instant the fear turned to contempt, and she said, “No. You aren’t hungry?”

He glanced down at the raw meat and said, “No, thank you. Are you sure you don’t want me to recall the cook, or perhaps you would feel more comfortable hiring someone elsesomeone of your choosing?”

“I told you I don’t like people buzzing around me,” she said.

“Then tell her to stay in the kitchen.”

“I might want to go into the kitchen,” Phyrea replied. She put a hand on her wine glass but didn’t pick it up. “I suppose you miss the maids and cooks and little girls you can take to your bed whenever you choose, but things have changed, and it’s time for you to grow up.”

Willem blinked, both at the accusation, and at the sudden turns her temper took.

“I never…” he started, but trailed off when he realized she wasn’t listening, and wouldn’t care either way. “It’s good to be home,” he lied instead.

They’d been married for twenty months, and in that time she’d fired his household staff and scared his mother all the way back to Cormyr. He’d spent fewer than one night in twenty at home, having been overwhelmed by the process of restarting Devorast’s project with the aid of two people even less competent than himself. In most ways that mattered he and Phyrea were still strangers, but Willem remained unable to look at her without reeling at her perfect beauty. Even as tired as she looked, even when she twitched and glanced away at nothing, startled by silence, Phyrea was the most beautiful woman in the world.

“The fresh air agrees with you,” she said. “You’re a very handsome man.”

He nodded in thanks, but couldn’t keep the suspicion from his eyes.

“Eat your dinner, now, before it gets cold,” she said. Phyrea, leering, glanced at the bloody red meat on the plate in front of him. “Be a good boy now. If you eat it, I’ll let you touch me. I’ll take you to bed, but you have to eat it all.”

He looked down at the raw meat again, and swallowed. She shushed him, though he hadn’t said anything, then she whispered, “He will.” “Will I?” Willem asked her. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

He picked up his knife and fork, and she laughed at him.

“Go on, now,” she said. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

He cut a little square off the side of the meat and held it up. Blood the consistency of water ran down the tines of his fork and dripped off the meat onto his plate.

She looked at him with wide eyes, and her open mouth was turned up in a trace of a smile.

“I will have to leave again tomorrow,” he said.

She shrugged.

“I’m not entirely certain when I’ll be back.” Phyrea looked to her left and nodded to no one. Willem put the raw meat in his mouth and started to chew. It wasn’t bad.