Dinner was as awkward as I expected. But I would expect nothing less. The entire time, Darcy and my father exchanged icy looks over the rims of their wine goblets while I watched on nervously. I was going to have permanent half-moon shaped marks in the palms of my hands from clenching my fists and digging my nails into my hands. I felt a hand on my wrist as I reached for the dagger strapped to my inner thigh. I paused and looked over into the sad eyes of my mother. For the first time since she walked into Darcy’s club and cast a spell on me, she seemed to be awake. She was awake, but not her whole self. She seemed to be in a constant zombie state when she was around my father. But here, now, she seemed like the mother I remembered before I fled.
And her eyes frightened me. They weren’t sad now, I realized. They were pleading for help in a silent way. She was crying for help, and this was the only way she could get a message to me without my father finding out. I turned toward her.
“Mum?” I whispered. I tried to tell her with my eyes that I was sympathetic, that I knew. But she simply shook her head no and quickly busied herself with cutting her roast beef.
What was that? What was going on? I knew I needed to get her alone, and soon.
I turned my attention back to Darcy and my father. For now, they were both concentrating on eating their meals, but every now and then, they would glance up at each other. I needed to do something, and fast. The tension in the room was so thick I could cut it with my dagger. I decided it was too soon for hostility, so I tried the peaceful tactic.
“Father, tell me about our kingdom? What’s the general vibe from the village? Are people happy?” I took a sip of wine and waited.
My father stuffed a fat piece of almost-raw beef in his mouth. Blood ran down his chin. He didn’t make a move to wipe his face. I tried to hide my revulsion. Yuck! I felt like becoming a vegetarian. He chewed his meat and then dabbed his lips with a napkin before speaking. But he still had food in his mouth. Gross! Gag!
“Well,” he began, in between chewing, “ever since you left, the people have tolerated me. They are holding out in the hopes that one day their princess will return.”
“And now I have,” I replied, sitting higher in my seat. “It won’t take long for news to spread.”
“But you are no longer a supernatural being. You cannot take the throne.” He stuffed a piece of bread in his mouth and washed it down with a big gulp of wine. Oh, he wanted to play, did he? Okay. We would play. I stood from my chair, and at the same moment, I yanked my athame from my thigh sheath and threw it. It sailed through the air and impaled the center of the long wooden table and wobbled, but stayed in place. Everyone at the table went still.
“Emma,” Darcy warned. I ignored him.
“Whose fault is that, huh? Let’s talk about that, shall we?”
My father sighed and put down his napkin before looking me in the eyes.
“Okay. We’ll talk. But there is no need for hostility.”
“I’m sorry, but we’ve already passed that stage. We did that when you declared war on me the moment you made my mother place a spell on me.”
“That was to teach you a lesson, my dear daughter. You have gone too far with your personal vendetta.”
I growled, baring my teeth, some of my dragon lineage coming to the surface. It was a habit, really. I was human, so I no longer had any dragon instincts left. “My vendetta is none of your business.”
“It is if you are killing innocent creatures, our people. What did they do to you?”
I rolled my eyes. “Where should I start?”
Darcy got to his feet. “Emma! That’s enough. Let’s take a walk.”
“No, Darcy. I need to speak with my parents.”
“Not when you’re like this. Come with me. Outside. Now.”
I turned away from him and crossed my arms, but not before I had realized his eyes were blood red. I sighed in frustration and stomped out of the dining room, with Darcy close on my heels.