Exported [Book 3 in the Expiring Series]

51 The Chapter in Which I'm Given a Snail Fork

Iris~~

The guards lead me through a door that opens into a sitting room. Fabric is draped over the stone walls and rugs are laid out on the floor. A leather-bound book sits on a black chaise, and a platter of fruit is in the center of a small table.

We pass through the room and into a curving hallway. Portraits hang on the walls, all of the subjects easily identified as Amorian with their purple eyes.

Up ahead there's an opening in the wall large enough for a door to fit, and the guards give me a little shove in its direction. I step underneath the archway and into a dining room. The wooden dining table stained black fits ten chairs, all of which are empty save for the one at the head of the table where Odette sits, her posture utterly perfect. Her black hair falls around her shoulders, and a dark grey laurel wreath rests on her head.

She merely waves her hand to dismiss the guards from the room and gestures at the seat at the other end of the table.

I move toward it to take my seat but pause when she says, "Turn for me," in Amorian.

My hand on the back of the chair, I hesitate.

Play her game, I remind myself. I can't win if I don't play.

I inhale and start to turn in a slow, steady circle. "Is this dress one of yours?" I ask in Amorian, not daring to attempt English after Anastasie made clear their disdain for anything other than Amorian.

"My grandfather brought one like it from Amoria. I had it remade." She lifts a crystal glass filled with white wine to her lips. "I thought it might fit you." She sips from her glass.

"It's a lovely dress."

"Ol." Yes. She holds out her hand toward my chair. "Sit."

I sink into the wooden chair, stained black like the table, the red cushion a cloud compared to the stone floor in the cells.

"I hope you found the Digamma's condition satisfactory."

I bite my tongue to hold back my retort. Seeing his condition ripped up my heart.

A lid covers my meal, and I remove it, expecting to find a head—this is a dinner with Odette after all. It's a pleasant surprise when the appetizer is only snails.

Living at the Society, I've been forced to broaden my pallet. Grilled cheese is never on the menu, and the only time I have it is when Jonas slips into the kitchen to make me one. I don't need a three-or-more course meal every night or ever, and sometimes I just want a sandwich; there are just some nights when a peanut butter and jelly would be better than a steak. Like Erik, Jonas doesn't appreciate the taste of ketchup on a grilled cheese, but I definitely once saw Riley sneak a small bottle of ketchup out of his jacket and pour it on his escargot.

That was horrifying.

"I was surprised to find him not worse than he was." I did expect him to look closer to death.

"We do like to treat our guests well." She raises her snail fork to her mouth and takes a bite from her escargot.

They've given me a pair of tongs and a fork with two prongs like Odette's. I don't need a knife for escargot, and I can't help but feel that was intentional.

I maneuver a snail onto my fork and eat it, relishing the buttery taste. The Amoris have been giving us food that's the consistency of oatmeal but with the ingredients of soup.