Buku The Living God by Kaytalin Platt

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The Living God by Kaytalin Platt

Author:Kaytalin Platt

Language: eng

Format: epub

Publisher: Inkshares

Published: 2019-06-10T16:00:00+00:00

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The Living God by Kaytalin Platt

TWENTY-TWO

ROSHAUD MUSHED MEAT between his dull teeth in ravenous, open-mouthed gnawing that sent juice and pink blood washing over his lips and down his chin. He hummed a happy tune, as one might on a warm, pleasant spring day while walking in a meadow of flowers.

He wrapped a meaty hand around the pewter goblet, drawing the wine to his lips and gulping in heavy, wet, gasping pulls. His black eyes peered over the glinting chalice and across from him, where Saran sat leaning against the table with her chin propped on her hand.

 

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The Living God by Kaytalin Platt

Author:Kaytalin Platt , Date: June 11, 2019

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Author:Kaytalin Platt

Language: eng

Format: epub

Publisher: Inkshares

Published: 2019-06-10T16:00:00+00:00
TWENTY-TWO

ROSHAUD MUSHED MEAT between his dull teeth in ravenous, open-mouthed gnawing that sent juice and pink blood washing over his lips and down his chin. He hummed a happy tune, as one might on a warm, pleasant spring day while walking in a meadow of flowers.

He wrapped a meaty hand around the pewter goblet, drawing the wine to his lips and gulping in heavy, wet, gasping pulls. His black eyes peered over the glinting chalice and across from him, where Saran sat leaning against the table with her chin propped on her hand.

“Not eating?” he asked, setting the goblet down near his plate and appraising the bored princess with a disappointed frown.

“Forgive me, I’m not feeling hungry,” she replied, a pleasant smile concealing the disgust churning her stomach. It was easy to pretend to be pleasant—she’d had years of practice where her father was concerned. It wasn’t until recently that her well-practiced facade had finally worn down to reveal a seemingly uncharacteristic conniving nature. At least from her father’s point of view.

Yarin sat at the end of the table with Roshaud in the honored space to his right. The king mulled over his food with less relish than the president, watching his daughter with the same appraising stare.

“Eat,” Yarin ordered, nodding to the servant behind her. He scurried from the room to the kitchen and returned with a tray of grilled steak, potatoes, sliced bread, and a goblet of wine. He set the plate before her with silver utensils and a sea-blue rag, before placing the goblet down. Once finished, he backed away to his designated corner.

Saran scowled at the meal, listening to the loud grinding of teeth against tendon coming from across the table. Normally not one to be bothered by the sound of chewing, Saran found it nearly unbearable in present company. She stabbed a potato and brought it to her lips, taking a small bite. She smiled and set her fork back down, hiding her quivering hand beneath the table. Saran wrapped her fingers around her knee and squeezed tight, attempting to keep the tension from her face as she let lose what little anger she could without being caught. When she’d gained some measure of control over herself, she let out a deep sigh. “Delicious.”

“Very,” murmured the robust president. His beady eyes twinkled with a twisted leer. Only he could find eating arousing.

“It is unfortunate that Keleir had to go away to Mavahan,” the princess said, taking another bite. She was quite aware of how the sight of eating affected Roshaud, but she could hardly stop if she were to play nice for her father. If she wanted to get the Bind off, she had to make the old man happy. If eating in front of his vulture of a friend would please him … well, she’d suffer the leering eyes of a predator for freedom. It didn’t mean that she couldn’t offer Roshaud his own form of misery in return. “But as he will be king, there will be many other opportunities for you to see him.

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