The Hod King: Book Three of the Books of Babel by Josiah Bancroft

Author:Josiah Bancroft [Bancroft, Josiah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780356510859
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 2019-01-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Only people who go to bed early believe in happy endings. We night owls understand that happiness does not dwell in finales. It resides in anticipation, in revelry, and in worn-out welcomes. Endings are always sad.

—Oren Robinson of the Daily Reverie

Half an hour earlier, Ann Gaucher had been trying to decide whether she should say something to her charge about her shocking lack of self-respect. The lady was letting the prince pet her like the family dog. But then, the moment Iren and Reggie left to find and revive Voleta (the poor dear!) the prince seemed to lose all interest in Xenia. He dropped her hand as if it were a dead fish and went to the bar to make himself another drink. Ann noticed he did not pour from the same decanter he’d been tipping all night but pulled a dusty rarity from behind the bar. He splashed the honey-colored liquor into a snifter and inhaled it as if it were a rose.

Xenia pursued him, seeming confused by his sudden change of mood, but nevertheless determined to throw herself at him.

“Now that we’re alone, Your Highness, you can tell me what you really think of that funny little foreign girl. She’s an absolute shock, isn’t she? Always dressing like she’s going to her own funeral. She can hardly hold a fork, and she’s a terrible flirt. I must’ve seen her kiss a dozen men since she arrived.”

“You have not,” Prince Francis said, smiling as he sipped and savored his brandy. “I understand why you don’t like her, though. She’s competition, and you aren’t up for much competition, are you? The marquis has been squandering your inheritance for years. Oh, I’d like to see his books!”

The insult seemed to gore Xenia, and Ann watched as she flinched and paled.

“All those lavish parties just begin to smack of desperation after a while, don’t they? And he still hasn’t managed to scare up a willing spouse for his daughter. What are you now, Xenia, twenty-five, twenty-six years old? Thirty is just around the corner!” He leaned his elbows on the bar and addressed her casually, indifferently, as if she were his little sister. Xenia grimaced in despair. “Do you ever feel like your life is a balloon that has a hole in it somewhere? You can’t find it, but you can hear it hissing, and you can feel the ship going down, down, down.” He swirled the liquor up the walls of his snifter. “Really, you could do a lot worse than Reggie. In fact, I think you ought to be grateful for a chance at an earl.”

Xenia’s bottom lip trembled, and her eyes glazed with tears, but the prince gave her no mercy. Realizing the effort was wasted, Xenia moped back to the balcony rail, where she hung and writhed like an overtired child. The prince watched her with faint amusement.

A moment later, Reggie returned from the hall, out of breath, but composing himself quickly. He patted down his fringe of hair, thin as an eyelash, and tested his sour breath in the cup of his hand.

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