Page 16 of Antiletum

I grimace at his plate of pure sugar. “You’re going to lose your teeth.”

With a disturbingly pleasant laugh, Val shows me the perfect set in question. “I assure you, my teeth are in fantastic health. But I am truly touched by your concern.” For emphasis, Val brings his long fingers to rest against the spot over his heart, veins popping in his hands, playfulness lighting his black eyes and tilting his lips.

Not so grumpy now.

I plop down on the empty chair, forcing myself to look away from his hands.

Honestly, peering into Val’s face isn’t any less disconcerting. Not being distracted by a less than ideal conversation like yesterday’s, it’s easier to focus on his features in the soft morning light that’s glinting off the black diamond triangle on his ear. The piercings weren’t required for our wedding ritual. I knew that going in. Only an hour before the wedding, a maid came to me. Told me that my futurehusband would like for us to offer our own tokens of affection, if I was so inclined. A choice all our own. And I readily agreed.

Those black diamonds complement his odd black eyes perfectly.

And the two silver hoop piercings on either side of his full lower lip.

This is a terrible idea.

Even in my quiet solitude with my parents, I found opportunities for brief male companionship in the form of groundskeepers and a few of my father’s acquaintances. But those encounters were all weak. Watery. Hurried and unfeeling. And that was just how I wanted it.

I should probably ask Val to leave, still having no more answers than I did when I first began distancing myself despite my efforts to reach Rainah in thespirlinaryyesterday. What delusions drove me into believing it would work, I cannot say. I’ve attempted conversing with the dead through mirrors before and I’ve never once been successful.

Perhaps if I can’t get answers from Rainah, maybe actually spending time with my husband might give me some form of insight to her warning. I’ll take anything at all to give me direction at this point.

Besides, the food does smell divine, and my stomach grumbles loud at the thought.

Chancing a peek at Val again while he’s lost to his meal, he looks incredibly worn down. Deep, dark circles shadow under his eyes. Stress pulls at their corners. Much more so than yesterday when he cornered me outside of thespirlinary.

Deos. But he is a very pretty man, even exhausted. Sharp and masculine. Extreme.

It hurts to look at him.

With a devilish smirk, he raises his head. Cocks a brow at how I’m openly staring. Entirely too inviting.

“You look tired,” I say as a hasty explanation.

His smile softens. “I generally don’t sleep much.” This takes me by surprise. He had no issue falling asleep with me tucked against his body.

With a quick change of subject, Val asks, “How’s your hand?” Glancing down at it laid across the table, his gaze bounces over every inch, as if looking for an offending culprit to punish.

Raising it, the skin is fully healed; my feeling and movement are back to normal after a restful night of sleep. “Right as rain,” I comment proudly, then pause, genuinely wanting to voice my appreciation. “Thank you, Valledyn.”

His fork stops its trajectory to his open mouth, a line of syrup humoring a slow drip to the table. The sound of his full name from my lips has knocked him completely off kilter, giving more emotion than he did yesterday when I used the typical shortened version.

Not ignoring me at all now.

He composes himself quickly, pushing his fork into his mouth and wiping his lips with a starched white napkin. “No need for thanks. I will always take care of you. No matter the circumstances. As I told you after we wed, you’re not alone anymore, Delaney. You don’t have to hide. Certainly not from me.”

Inspecting my plate that Val prepared, I pick up my orange cranberry muffin, slathered with an obscene amount of butter, biting into it to avoid answering. Hoping as I swallow it will push down the poking ache of my grief. Increasing in Val’s presence.

Not that it ever really goes away.

“Will we not get in trouble,” I ponder aloud, “if someone hears that you’ve got a store ofantiletum? And that I used it?”

I try shamefully hard not to imagine the state of my sleep tousled hair. My hand betrays me and lifts to fluff it near my temple.

“And who, Delaney, would deliver the sentence?” Val grins wide, arrogant.

I chuckle. “Sounds like abuse of our new power to me,” I quip, my tone lightening in this surprising ease of conversation.

“A perk of the position. Besides, you needed it.”