Julien Nepenthe sat stiff as a board in her chair.
For the first time in years, the family had gathered in one place for dinner. Her father, Duke Wulfwin had sat at the head of the long wooden table, Basila, her eldest sister to his left, and Adeline, her youngest sister, to his right. Julien had picked her seat beside Basila. It was a choice between two poisons, but the air was suffocating, and Basila would be less likely to kick her under the table as Adeline so frequently did.
Julien's attention had been captivated by her meal. She stared down at her plate taking in the fullness of it all. Steak, potatoes mashed, some type of vegetable she couldn't recognize, and a side of red broth. Going for a bite of the food seemed nauseating and the awkward tension between them all did everything but help. Instead, she opted to gently pick at the food, so much so to distract her but not make a sound.
Then, her father cleared his throat, catching her attention immediately. "I am glad Basila was able to join us tonight," He announced, his tone cold and monotone. Julien wasn't sure she'd ever seen her father experience genuine gladness. His blue eyes had always stared with an unforgiving stoniness without a glimmer of joy.
Without skipping a beat, Basila spoke, "I too, am glad I was able to make the journey. If not for the war ending, I doubt I would be here." The war, Julien's breath caught, her stomach sinking. The war where her husband had been sent mere days after their wedding. The war in which he had been fighting. He plagued her thoughts despite having not seen his face for three years. She had caught herself wondering about the state of his health. Would she become a widow by the end of the war? Among other questions she had that would never be answered, the same one always popped up:did he ever think of her? The question flushed her cheeks. Andreas Nepenthe wouldn't think of her. In fact, he probably hated her.
"Julien," Her father called her voice raised and growing irritable. Her name in his mouth was a warning. She hadn't been paying attention, too busy lost in thoughts of silly questions. Julien felt herself wilting in her seat, skin paling, and her hands clammy. A clanging sound hit her ears, and it was only then she realized she dropped her fork on the plate.
"Sorry Father," she stammered, the words flooding out of her as fear struck her heart cold. Everyone's eyes were on her. Adeline's bug-like stare was entertained, while Basila's gaze had only a flicker of pity. Her father on the other hand had no emotion to spare in those icy eyes of his but rage. His jaw tensed, his fist clenched, and he exhaled a breath of pure irritation. Her own breath was stuck in her throat. She had messed up. A mistake that even a child wouldn't make, especially in the presence of a guest. How could she be so stupid, so clumsy?
"It is quite alright," he paused to offer words accepting her apology; although, she knew it was out of mere politeness of having Basila around, "We were just speaking on how the war may not have been won without your husband and his skills." The duke's stare had turned to a glare and she felt dread creep along her spine. Anxiety rattled her chest as the thumping of her heart grew louder in her ears.
"I am sure Sir Andreas contributed much to the victory," Julien swallowed down hard, speaking out as pleasantly as she could. It felt wrong to comment on her husband when she knew so little about him. When he was ensnared into a marriage with someone as pathetic as her. Yet, she'd rather comment on the stranger she shared a bed with than risk her father's wrath.
Her father's anger seemed to abate, even if it was just the littlest bit. "Supposedly, he's thought to be one of the best knights in Saudena if not the continent. You of all people are quite lucky to have married someone so talented, even if he is a bastard," The Duke spat the last word out. She froze at his hostility. He had thought the two were a perfect match, a useless high-born child and an exceedingly talented bastard. Julien had lost count of how many times he had remarked so. She couldn't help but be glad the knight wasn't here to hear it. It provided the slightest bit of relief to her worries.
Silence lifted over the table once more, except for the clinking of fork and plate. The dread lying in her had begun to ebb away. On the other side of the table, Adeline had begun to pick at her food as well. She was quite the sight, Julien thought, even if she was only eight years of age. Adeline was like an angel: perfect rosy cheeks, bright blue eyes, and bouncing golden locks. The girl was radiant, unlike Julien. Her hair was a dull black and untamable, her eyes a light blue, and her skin too pale and pasty, not to mention marred with moles. Julien's gaze retreated back to her own plate, and she attempted to choke down a few bites of the steak.
The steady silence was broken by Balisa this time. "Father?" Her elder sister inquired his name, yet waiting before a response she continued to speak, "Is Julien's husband not to come sometime this week? I'd assume he'd come to fetch her now that the war is done. I do believe I heard you and Elliot discussing the matter earlier as well." Her sister's tone was clear and calm. Whilst Adeline was an angel, Basila was pure perfection. Her eyes were a warm brown, her hair fine gold, and her posture was beyond elegant. Every word she spoke had pulled in attention. She had a charm to her, a more quiet one. It was a gentle attraction she possessed, but her sister was far from gentle. Basila was more cunning than a fox, and sharper than any lady was ever taught to be. Her eyes were shaped like their father's, a threatening round, and her eye color had made it almost impossible to distinguish any emotions behind them. However, Julien still remembered the Balisa she had grown up with. A girl who sat with her in a field of flowers, brushing through her tangled black hair without a care, and humming whatever tune she could come up with.
That Balisa had been gone though, hardened by her years in society, and then in a foreign land faced with countless unknowns. Even as she sat beside Julien now, she could hardly recognize her eldest sister.
Her father's voice once again cut through her thoughts like a whip, "You are correct. Sir Andreas has sent word that he will come to collect Julien by the end of the week." Julien's eyes flashed to her father. Sir Andreas was to come here? The man who had been forced to marry her as a twisted reward for his brave feats. The brute of a man who had taken her first night in the beastliest of ways. That same stranger was to come here and collect her? Why would he want to? Didn't he hate her. Julien felt her throat hardening at the thought. Sweat had crept up her back, and her heart had begun to race once more. Duke Wulfwin returned her bewildered stare with a look of satisfaction.
"Julien, you have paled quite a bit since we began eating. I swear, you almost resemble a sheet of paper. Why don't you go on up to your room and get some rest? I'll have the servants stop by with your dinner later," The Duke instructed her. Julien swallowed down again, looking from Adeline to Balisa, and then back to the Duke's waiting gaze before pushing out her chair. She pressed her lips together into a thin smile, and then ducked her head before turning and pacing away as fast as she could. Memories of Sir Andreas began to run through her mind. His dark red hair that spiked up like wild grass, his sun-kissed skin marked with scars, his dark brown eyes, and even his metal-like muscles all replayed in her brain from that night. A flush rose from her spine to her cheeks before spreading throughout her face. Julien could hardly wrap her mind around the idea of his homecoming.