Now, eat."
Unsure what point she had made, Tabitha nonetheless allowed James to lead her to the table. She would follow his advice and eat. Maybe later things wouldn't seem so hopeless, maybe she could figure out what to do next. She ate a bowl of soup, which tasted as good as it had smelled, and a slice of sunflower seed bread before stopping. It was a compromise, and also a precaution against whatever reaction her stomach might have. James had supplemented his bread and soup with slices of meat and cheese, finishing with a bowl of fruit salad topped with whipped cream that smelled of nutmeg and cinnamon, eating it all with obvious relish. He looked up when Tabitha's stomach grumbled, and she forced herself not to stare at the food.
Rising from the table, he announced, "You've spent too much time indoors. Walk with me." It was less invitation than command, and although Tabitha would have preferred a nap to a walk, she obediently rose to accompany him. When he offered her his arm, she slid her hand through it. This was not a liberty he'd taken before, but she found herself leaning on him more the longer they walked.
They stayed on the path, which allowed James to talk freely, since he didn't need to mind either their location or the terrain. It was the most she'd remembered him talking in their short acquaintance. He told her about growing up in the Xentian court, with all its intrigues. As a handsome boy with an innocent face, he'd maneuvered himself onto the receiving end of a great many confidences. Even then, James had been unscrupulous. His smooth re-telling faltered occasionally, as if he were only now realizing what impact his actions might have had on the other characters in the stories, but he never excused or defended his behavior. He didn't seem to be bragging about it either. It was as if he was telling the stories to himself as much as to her, really hearing them for the first time somehow. Tabitha wondered what had happened to these people. Some of the names were familiar, but she couldn't place them. Her Xentian tutor would have been very disappointed...though probably not surprised.
When they finally stopped to rest, the sun had moved far from its apex. Tabitha was exhausted and rueing her self-imposed fast. She wondered at James's loquacity. Whatever its cause, it had passed. He was reticent as he settled himself too close to the place she had taken on a fallen log. Tabitha stubbornly resisted the urge to scoot away.
After a few minutes, she broke the silence. Looking directly at him, she asked, "Why would you do such things? You don't sound proud of them."
James gazed silently at the ground long enough that Tabitha assumed he was once again ignoring an unwelcome question. She couldn't read emotion on his face and became distracted by black lashes and the strong lines of his nose and jaw. She searched his profile for some way to reconcile what even he admitted he was with how he treated her. He wasn't exactly trustworthy or kind, but he seemed far more restrained than Nurse had described. Gentler and more genuine than he described himself. It had taken him five days to lose his temper with her. She doubted her father or brother would have lasted two. Was it all a sham? Then why tell her these stories? Lost in thought, she forgot that she was still staring at him.
His eventual answer sounded like the beginning of another story. "When I was young, I often charmed myself out of trouble. At the Mage school, and later the college, I was indulged because my gift was so rare. Too soon I had learned enough to be beyond discipline and I was not wise enough to seek it when it could not be forced on me." After another long silence, James concluded. "I used to be proud of the stories. By the time I learned to hate what I had become, it was too late to change my path."
His last statement caught Tabitha's attention. Her eyes narrowed as she accused, "So you attacked Valstadt when you didn't want to? Why not just
Unsure what point she had made, Tabitha nonetheless allowed James to lead her to the table. She would follow his advice and eat. Maybe later things wouldn't seem so hopeless, maybe she could figure out what to do next. She ate a bowl of soup, which tasted as good as it had smelled, and a slice of sunflower seed bread before stopping. It was a compromise, and also a precaution against whatever reaction her stomach might have. James had supplemented his bread and soup with slices of meat and cheese, finishing with a bowl of fruit salad topped with whipped cream that smelled of nutmeg and cinnamon, eating it all with obvious relish. He looked up when Tabitha's stomach grumbled, and she forced herself not to stare at the food.
Rising from the table, he announced, "You've spent too much time indoors. Walk with me." It was less invitation than command, and although Tabitha would have preferred a nap to a walk, she obediently rose to accompany him. When he offered her his arm, she slid her hand through it. This was not a liberty he'd taken before, but she found herself leaning on him more the longer they walked.
They stayed on the path, which allowed James to talk freely, since he didn't need to mind either their location or the terrain. It was the most she'd remembered him talking in their short acquaintance. He told her about growing up in the Xentian court, with all its intrigues. As a handsome boy with an innocent face, he'd maneuvered himself onto the receiving end of a great many confidences. Even then, James had been unscrupulous. His smooth re-telling faltered occasionally, as if he were only now realizing what impact his actions might have had on the other characters in the stories, but he never excused or defended his behavior. He didn't seem to be bragging about it either. It was as if he was telling the stories to himself as much as to her, really hearing them for the first time somehow. Tabitha wondered what had happened to these people. Some of the names were familiar, but she couldn't place them. Her Xentian tutor would have been very disappointed...though probably not surprised.
When they finally stopped to rest, the sun had moved far from its apex. Tabitha was exhausted and rueing her self-imposed fast. She wondered at James's loquacity. Whatever its cause, it had passed. He was reticent as he settled himself too close to the place she had taken on a fallen log. Tabitha stubbornly resisted the urge to scoot away.
After a few minutes, she broke the silence. Looking directly at him, she asked, "Why would you do such things? You don't sound proud of them."
James gazed silently at the ground long enough that Tabitha assumed he was once again ignoring an unwelcome question. She couldn't read emotion on his face and became distracted by black lashes and the strong lines of his nose and jaw. She searched his profile for some way to reconcile what even he admitted he was with how he treated her. He wasn't exactly trustworthy or kind, but he seemed far more restrained than Nurse had described. Gentler and more genuine than he described himself. It had taken him five days to lose his temper with her. She doubted her father or brother would have lasted two. Was it all a sham? Then why tell her these stories? Lost in thought, she forgot that she was still staring at him.
His eventual answer sounded like the beginning of another story. "When I was young, I often charmed myself out of trouble. At the Mage school, and later the college, I was indulged because my gift was so rare. Too soon I had learned enough to be beyond discipline and I was not wise enough to seek it when it could not be forced on me." After another long silence, James concluded. "I used to be proud of the stories. By the time I learned to hate what I had become, it was too late to change my path."
His last statement caught Tabitha's attention. Her eyes narrowed as she accused, "So you attacked Valstadt when you didn't want to? Why not just
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