Rymora vigorously shook her head. Making it clear that Martha couldn’t get more but it was the way her eyes were fixed on the pouch.
It was clear that she had no intentions of letting it go.
Her fingers twitched at her side, nails biting into her palm as she held back the urge to snatch it outright. She could feel the tension building behind her brow, her temples pounding with the weight of annoyance. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. It never was. Rymora liked things neat, calculated, handled—and right now, Martha’s growing obsession with the seeds was anything but.
Rymora was just thinking of how to dissuade her even more when she suddenly watched as Martha lunged for it picking up the pouch before she could take it.
"I’ll give you something good in exchange!" Martha cried refusing to back away even as she clung to the pouch tightly in her arms.
There was desperation in her voice, the kind that made Rymora’s spine stiffen. Not fear, not panic—just the sheer audacity of desire. Something primal flashed across Martha’s face—glee mixed with greed. The kind of joy someone might have upon discovering treasure buried in the most unlikely place.
At that point Rymora couldn’t help but show a slightly exasperated look on her face as she focused her gaze on Martha.
The next second she shrugged.
Her job was to toss it! If she wanted it then there was no reason to keep refusing.
’If she died then I’ll still have nothing to do with it!’ Rymora thought as she watched her toss another seed into her mouth.
Unable to tell her that according to Clay’s orders, she was only supposed to take one each day for medicinal purposes.
Her jaw clenched as she stood still, the towel damp at the hem from the steam curling beneath the bathroom door. Rymora’s mind whirled but her expression remained unreadable—detached even, as if she were watching someone else’s mistake unfold from behind glass.
Seconds barely went by when she dug her hand into the pouch again and picked up another seed tossing it into her mouth even as Rymora focused her entire gaze on her.
Her breath caught for half a second. That was three now. Possibly four. Rymora lost count because Martha had eaten them with the carelessness of someone snacking on sugared berries.
Her face was a bit red but it soon became clear that it was simply because of excitement and not because she was on the verge of death.
Rymora narrowed her eyes. No spasms, no vomiting, no sudden collapse. Not even a drop of blood at the nose. Instead, Martha’s cheeks had flushed with delight, her eyes dancing with delight. Maybe the seeds were safe. Maybe Clay hadn’t lied.
Not seeing any reason to delay her bath, Rymora wordlessly headed straight towards the shower to take her bath.
The water ran hot over her skin, washing away the thin sheen of sweat from the earlier tension. She scrubbed her arms roughly, more out of frustration than hygiene. Even as steam surrounded her, fogging up her thoughts, the image of Martha tossing seed after seed into her mouth refused to leave her mind.
She was quick and wasn’t surprised when she had just gotten up when she realized that Martha was already standing getting ready to leave while crunching on the seeds.
"Tastes good! Thanks! I’ll make sure to give you something better in exchange!" Martha said even as she turned around and left, Rymora not so much as bothered to wave as she watched her leave, closing the door behind her.
’It’ll be nice If she stayed away!’ Rymora grumbled under her breath even as she thought nothing more about it.
Her muscles relaxed only slightly as she dried her body and pulled on fresh clothing. The thought of Martha returning with yet another pouch of nonsense or worse—questions—made her roll her eyes. She had done her part. If Martha wanted to poison herself, let her. It wasn’t Rymora’s problem anymore.
Meanwhile Martha had just stepped out of the room when she noticed how scratchy her neck was. It was so intense that she scratched her back and peeled off a layer of skin which she seemed completely blind to as she wiped her hand and continued heading in her usual direction.
Her injury closed up fast... almost at the speed of light.
There was no pain. Just an odd heat under her skin, like something old and dormant had been shaken awake. Martha blinked, scratching harder as a strip of flesh slid off, only for smooth, unblemished skin to emerge underneath. She didn’t even notice the strange shimmer in her iris, or the eerie quiet pulsing through her veins like a second heartbeat.
Meanwhile at the lunch hall, Aria was still settling and nibbling on her food when someone walked in which was a big deal since Zyren was the only one that had the privilege to do such a thing.
It didn’t help that Aria had just turned around to see, only to be taken aback by the image of someone familiar with her hair tinted a bit red just like Aria’s own.
Slowly swinging her hips from side to side in the flattering gown she wore she headed right to Zyren falling to her knees and lowering her chest in a way that allowed everyone in the hall to have no problems drinking up the entirety of her appearance.
Aira’s hand froze mid-bite, the piece of fruit caught between her fingers forgotten. Her jaw tensed as she stared—mouth pressed into a hard line, every nerve in her body suddenly alert. It wasn’t the gown that irritated her. Or even the hair color. It was the performance. The pure audacity.
"Greetings my king!" She greeted with a smile on her face as she went ahead to bow her head until she could feel Zyren’s gaze on her even as she continued to speak.
"I’m your dedicated pet!" She said even as Aria struggled not to glare at her with all the anger that bubbled up within her.
Her hand slowly lowered to her lap, fists clenched tightly. Aira’s breathing was measured—barely. She didn’t want to make a scene. Didn’t want to give Harriet the satisfaction of seeing her rattle. But oh, it was hard. Her nails bit into her skin with how tight her fists clenched.
Aira was well aware that she was going to fight Harriet and there would have to be a winner but the last thing she expected to see was for Harriet to directly challenge her place by Zyren’s side.
Something that surprised Aria but something she wasn’t against. Left to her she couldn’t wait for Zyren to bring Harriet to sit on his lap and continue ignoring her.
’Let her have him,’ Aira thought with bitter amusement, her lips twitching with a smile she didn’t allow to reach her eyes. ’Let her try.’
But she didn’t get what she wanted instead she watched as Zyren completely ignored Harriet’s presence so much that she might as well have been complete and utter dust.
The silence that filled the hall only made it worse as it soon became clear t what Zyren had done even as Harriet’s burned red with complete and utter shame as she rose slowly from the ground.
Aira could almost hear the crack of Harriet’s pride shattering. She didn’t need to smirk. The moment Harriet’s hands pressed against the floor a bit too long, the moment her hair fell over her face, shielding her expression—it was enough.
This time Harriet simply moved to sit on the table but not before tossing Aria a look of complete and utter hatred as she settled in her seat and began to eat.
Aira only frowned even as she stared at her already empty plate which had only been half filled in the first instance.
If before Harriet simply hated her and wanted her dead to take her place, now Aria had no doubt in her mind that Harriet wanted to chop her into tiny bits and eat every part until no bloody piece was left.
But even then Aira didn’t bother to give her any attention as she simply waited for Zyren to finish eating and for them to leave.
Her posture remained poised, her back straight, but beneath the table, her legs were tense. She could feel Harriet’s stare clawing at her from across the room. Aria refused to lift her gaze.
He did finish eating but instead of them to leave, Zyren opened his mouth to announce in a loud voice that drew the attention of everyone there to him.
"Listen!" He said in a loud and commanding tone that led to no doubt in the mind of everyone there that he was the king.
His voice rolled like thunder across the room, and every head snapped toward him. The clinking of cutlery stopped instantly.
"The Werewolves would be heading here tomorrow!" He began as he continued to speak, "A letter was sent that they would be arriving tomorrow! A bit ahead of schedule!"
But Zyren had just finished speaking when one of the lords opened his mouth to speak. It was Drehk which was surprising enough since he usually wouldn’t bother to speak.
"Ahead of schedule? Five days ahead? They are clearly up to something!" He said having stopped eating a while ago, making it clear that he couldn’t even pretend to enjoy human food.
"Definitely!" Lythari opened her mouth to instantly agree with a huge smile on her face as she looked at Lord Drehk that showed that Lord Drehk might have suggested that they cut off her hand and she might have willingly agreed.
King Zyren instantly nodded his head as he responded.
"Yes! I’m aware! If they try and cause trouble, I expect all four of you to take care of it!" He said talking to the four lords under him with a fierce look on his face even as he got off his chair and made it clear that he was leaving.
Heading out of the food hall. Aira bowed but she didn’t try and follow him!
The silence afterward was suffocating—thick with tension and unspoken fear. But Aria didn’t move. She sat rooted in her seat, still watching the space where Zyren had stood. Her face was calm, but in her heart, she wondered what kind of trouble tomorrow would bring.