Chapter Text
Dinner was a tense affair. The meal itself was lovely, of course, with Camelot’s chefs’ not knowing how to make any other kind. A lush, creamy, goat-milk, lemon, and mint soup with a side of pan-fried potatoes wedges. Six separate salads, three of which were composed entirely of fruit. Roasted nuts and seeds dipped in a salty black sauce. Cuts of nearly every kind of meat imaginable, waterfowl and poultry, white meat and black meat, livestock and game, all so tender they bled juice the moment a knife sliced through their crust.
Sophie ventured into a topic of conversation near the start of the sixth course. Her jade green eyes focused on the man seated across the table from her, taking note of the fact that his plate was a mirror of her own, treated more like a prop than something he was actually going to use.
“Japeth, darling, do tell me about yourself. Your brother and I already get along so swimmingly”—sitting on her right, Rhian gave a wane smile, as if he was amused with her half-truth—“and since we’re going to be roommates I thought—“
Japeth’s head snapped up. “What did you just say?”
“There’s no need to throw a hissy-fit around it. I’m not any happier about this than you are.” Sophie sniffed, nibbling on the edge of a cucumber sandwich. “Your brother’s the one who suggested it.”
“Than he can un-suggest it,” Japeth snarled, tightening his grip on his knife. He wore the contradictory expression of a dog who knew a beating was coming but was too tired to try and defend himself.
Rhian didn’t look up. In the low light cast from the fireplace at the other end of the room the scar on his head looked like a thick, pink rat tail.
Sophie had to fight the urge to reach over and brush it off. “Rhian—“
“I’m not going to answer you while you’re emotional like this, Japeth. It’s unbecoming of our family.”
“ Rhian —“
“Control your emotions, Japeth,” Rhian reprimanded, with the inflection of someone who was saying something so obvious it didn’t merit repeating.
Like wiping a chalkboard clean, Japeth slowly managed to ‘control his emotions’, as Rhian had said, although not without some effort.
Sophie was disappointed, she’d been hoping they’d kill each other.
“Better?” Japeth spat through clenched teeth.
“Extremely.” Rhian took a bite of his venison, the prongs of his fork scraping against his teeth. Sophie noticed for the first time that he had a small gap between the front two. “Now, what exactly is your problem with the arrangement?”
“The fact that it exists at all.” If Rhian’s voice was a river of velvet, soft, fluid, and dangerous, something that pulled you in and drowned you, Japeth’s voice was frostbite and the sharpened edge of a knife, dangerous in an entirely different way.
“Well, we had to put her somewhere—“
“I’m not a carpet, you can’t just roll me up and stick me in the corner.” Sophie interjected. They both ignored her.
“—I already talked to Kei about it, we can’t put her in with the guards, that’d be like throwing a bloody steak into a pit full of dogs, and . . . as you’ve no doubt noticed,” Rhian’s voice dropped an octave lower, an implication the Sophie didn’t really like coloring his tone, “she’s beautiful, she can’t room with me, I might be tempted, but that . . . won’t exactly be a problem for you, now will it?”
Japeth’s jaw clenched, his body taunt. His scrims shifted softly, their scales catching at the firelight and shadows. He looked like he was actively restraining himself from lunging across the table to strangle his brother.
Sophie applauded his acting skills, if she hadn’t been looking for it, she might not have noticed he was upset at all.
Suddenly, the giant, wooden doors reverberated with a resounding knock.
“Come in!”
The doors swung open, and a guard stepped in the room. Square jaw, hooded, brown eyes, black hair that was like a shock of ink against his blue-and-gold livery. Kei.
“Sir,” he made a bee-line for Rhian, a cream envelope held between his long, brown fingers, “this just came from our contacts in Pifflepaff Hills.”
Rhian took the envelope with barely a glance towards the Captain of his Guard, cutting through the seal with a butter knife.
He scanned its contents silently, his eyes flicking back and forth lazily. When he finished, his aquamarine eyes were alit with the kind of frever that could only mean one thing. Good news.
Sophie felt sick to her stomach, had those basterds captured Agatha? Hort? Hester? Dot? Anadil? Hell, she didn’t even want anything that bad to happen to Tedros — Tedros, of all people! Leaning over in her chair, Sophie discreetly tried to catch a glimpse of the letter.
Rhian, seemingly aware of this, chose that exact moment to hand the paper to his brother. “Here, this should interest you. It looks like the rulers of Pifflepaff Hills aren’t going to cooperate with our plan.”
Japeth took the letter and stood, his chair scraping against the floor with a sharp hiss, his face frighteningly blank. “So, the Snake’s services are required again?”
“Precisely.”