Demigod Bait

Demigod Bait, by Evertell.

The cold and dark dining hall was mostly empty. Apart from the elongated dark wood table and chairs with tall backs to them. The cold was something I didn't mind. A soothing feel to me somehow. However, the human butlers and household staff would disagree. They couldn't walk a straight line without shivering or making that weird noise with their teeth.

I resisted the urge to growl as one of them drew open a set of drapes. The light of midday beaming into the blackness of the hall.

This was something they did whenever Father was here.

Like clockwork, a cart of food on silver platters were wheeled in. By a woman wearing a navy blue gown, a plain white bonnet and apron. She set the first dish, and utensils in front of Father's seat. Opposite of mine, as we were seated at either ends of the table.

Typical. Serve the human first. They should know better than to have me wait. This isn't even his house.

The second dish was brought to me, as she kept her head low. The bonnet hiding her eyes. The scent of her perfume caught my attention, as she neared. That, and her inability to stop shaking as she set a wine glass and utensils down. To the best of her ability, which ended up being kinda sloppy, but I didn’t care. I eyed her curiously, not knowing if it was the cold that bothered her.

…Or me.

A smirk tugged at the corner of my lip as I thought of something.

Only one way to find out.

She turned to grab the platter from the cart. Hands shaking still as she tried to place it as gently as able. Onto the table. I took in a small breath, releasing a thunder from my throat that had her jumping back. Taking the platter with her. Her fast movements made her trip over herself. Causing her to fall with a loud thud, and an even louder clank of the platter hitting the floor. The silver cover to it came off, revealing what would have been a glorious meal.

A beautiful roast cooked to the bronze.

Damn…

"I'm s-so s-sorry milord!" The frightened cook planted her face on the floor. In some sort of groveling position. "Please forgive me. It won't ever happen again. I swear".

So she is afraid of me… I suppose I already knew that. Humans are all the same around me. Nervous, sweaty, and ready to bolt at a moment's notice. But this one chose to grovel instead. A little disappointing. I was hoping for more of a reaction.

I stood up from my seat; to retrieve water from the cart. Ignoring the sound of her begging. The human girl remained in the same position with her face to the floor. As I pour the water into a glass. I greedily gulped down the liquid, and was satisfied by the cold temperature of it.

Perfect for smothering fire.

"Stand up". I turn my attention back to the human female cook. Having doused the fire behind my tongue. A hint of white smoke seeping through my lips as I spoke. The girl obediently stood at my command. As if I cracked a whip, she jolted at the sound of my voice. Even though there was no hardness in my tone, or anger for that matter.

A whimper fell from her lips. Her bottom lip trembled as she held her hands in front of her. Keeping her gaze to the floor in shame. Another whimper escaped her lips. She quickly covered her mouth after the sound left it. My brows creased together as I watch her take a step back.

This was the thing I hated most. Humans couldn't respect me enough to look me in the eye.

"What's your name?" I ask her, trying not to sound as irritated.

"R-Ruth, milord". She answers immediately.

"Ruth…" I tested her name as I debated in the moment; whether I should keep her as my cook.

From one look at the roast I could tell she knew what she was doing. However, if she was always going to be this nervous around me. I'd probably miss a few meals. I can't eat around sweaty humans. The smell of salty flesh always puts me off. All humans have that same smell when they sweat. It's disgusting.

"May I see your hands?" I ask kindly.

She put them out for me to see. Not questioning me at all as she held her palms facing up, perhaps thinking I was checking to see if they were clean.

"Ruth, tell me why you're shaking. Are you well?"

"It's nothing milord. I'm j-just new at this. W-Well not new at cooking. I meant to say… that I've…" She thought for a moment, fidgeting with her hands nervously. "I've never served a noble before".

She's lying. I frown, holding back a growl. "I see…".

Her shoulders relax a bit, as I accept her response anyway. Something about this woman's scent was pleasant, and a little distracting. "Well then, I'm sure you'll find that it's not so different from serving other households". I tell her, then turn my head to one of the manservants that stood ready near the table. All of which stood straight and stiff-like, with their eyes glancing my way as if they were afraid for the human girl.

"Adam" I called out to a dark-haired man, who immediately responded by turning my way with a deep bow. "Yes milord?".

"Please take this back to the kitchen". I say to him, gesturing toward the fallen meal. "And bring us another bottle of wine. We're expecting more guests soon".

"Yes milord". He bows again before scooping up the mess of food from the floor. His footfalls echoing as he retreats to the kitchen with it.

"Ruth…" I turn back to her, speaking as friendly as possible. In the hopes that this would put away all her fears of me. "If you're going to work here, you must know the rules".

"It won't be a problem. I- I'll do whatever you ask". She bows nervously.

"You're a cook. There's no need to bow". I tell her, earning several looks from the butlers.

Servants (always) bow. It's what they're taught. My subconscious reminds.

Whatever… it's my house, and as of today, Ruth is my best cook. I'll be damned if I have to eat charred ham for the next week.

First thing I learned about Adam. Was that he's a horrible cook.

"Stand straight". I direct her, which she immediately does. "Head up, eyes forward, and hands at your sides". Ruth does this, blinking nervously as her line of view came to my chest. Not daring to look any higher than that. "Good". I nod, finding this form of hers much less pitiful-looking. "This is the first rule". I continue. "Never slouch, whine or grovel in front of me. I do not whip or abuse my staff so there's no need to tread lightly. I prefer my staff be direct with me when spoken to. I'm not fond of… skittishness so refrain yourself if you can. And as my cook, you must know that I dislike all fruits and desserts. So do not try to impress me with anything sweet. Understood?"

"Y-Yes milord". She squeaks nervously.

I blink hard in annoyance, I just told her I don't like skittish.

"Ahem," She coughs into her fist. Adjusting her posture a little straighter. "Yes milord". She says again in a firmer voice.

A proud grin grew from the corner of my lips. She's getting it. "Good". For a single moment after, Ruth's met mine.

They were a light brown color, like... hazelnut. However, her eyes were also watery and red as if she wanted to cry. …Or maybe she did cry and I didn't know.

A weight of guilt sank to my stomach. I felt like a huge ass for scaring her now.

If my mother were here, she would've pulled my ear right about now.

"Will that be all, milord?" She lowers her gaze again.

"That will be all". I nod. "Adam will help you prepare for the guests".

She gave an awkward bow out of habit, but then stopped herself. "Ahem, uh- thank you milord". She nods her head before walking back to the kitchen.

I poured myself a glass of wine, feeling the eyes of the other butlers, and my father, as I did so. "Go ahead and say it, Father. I know you want to". I sigh, taking a sip of wine as I return to sit at the table.

"Do you fancy her?"

I almost choke on the wine. "What?" That was not what I was expecting him to say.

"The cook. Do you fancy her?" He repeats a little slower.

"She's human". Is all I say.

"And she's a woman".

"You sound like Mother".

"And you sound like the fool I remember you to be". He grumbles through his teeth. Slapping down his napkin with an annoyed huff.

Sometimes I forget he's human. Father always says what's on his mind.

He let out a sigh, trying to relax himself. Running a hand through the waves of gray hair that dangled to his shoulders. I watched as he rubbed a hand over his face. Easing away that stressed look he'd been wearing. His silver-blue eyes locking with mine as if to challenge me.

"Logan," He breathed out. "Look… I was going to wait until the others got here to tell you this, but I'm tired of waiting".

I sat a little straighter. Anxious to find out why he'd come to see me so early in the year. Why he would want the others to see me.

"There's been… an agreement made in your stead. Rest assured I am certain only good can come of it". Father says, drawing out the words to the point of annoyance.

"Father just tell me". I say through a breath. "What is the agreement you speak of?"

"A noble family from the north has offered their daughter for marriage".

"This again…" I groan. "Father this is growing old".

"Yes it is". He says, sounding offended. "Last time we had this conversation. I was a much younger man". Father points to himself. "Do you think I like coming here, year after year, only to find you wife-less, and your house cold and dark as a Dhaval's tomb". He starts, but then adds more to make a point. "A-An empty courtyard, a barren stable, an idle carriage, closed drapes, and dozens of empty rooms".

"Do you think I want a horrible life for my son?"

"I'm only your second son". I state.

"And I have the same problem with your brother". He grumbles.

"I'm sorry Father". I stand up, taking my wine with me. "I won't be marrying any time soon".

"Really, Logan". Father stands up from his chair. Adjusting the jacket of his tux. "I don't see the problem here". He walks from around the table with a hint of annoyance in his tone. "The Lady Aria is of marriable age, healthy, titled, and-"

"And the perfect companion". Another voice intrudes our conversation. A stern, sharply toned woman's voice that Father and I immediately recognize.

"Mother".

"Varena".

We both said simultaneously.

Her heeled shoes clicked against the floor as she entered the room. A gown of royal blue and a silvered gray swayed around her feet as she walked. The rich, bulky kind of gown that took up three times the space around them. In comparison to the actual size of the woman wearing it. Her part-grayed, part brown hair was fashioned up. Like she always wore it, with a diamond hair ornament that was shaped like a miniature crown. An anniversary gift, gifted to her long ago, from Father. I could tell Father was pleased by this, as his features softened, his eyes never straying from her as she neared me.

Her nose wrinkled in distaste as I bow to her. "Stop that Logan". She says, placing a hand under my chin. Bringing my gaze to hers. "I may be a Duchess but I'm still your Mother. There's no need for such formalities".

"It's good to see you Mother". I welcome her with a peck on her forehead as I stood straight. Her smaller form becoming noticeable as she hugged my torso. A smile overtaking her slightly aged features as I hug her back.

"Oh my darling, it's good to know you've been eating". She pulls back, giving the sides of my stomach a painful squeeze.

"Mother". I laugh lightly, taking her hands in mine. "I am able to care for myself".

"Oh my son". Her amber eyes soften as she gazes up at me. The same way she looks at all her children. With undivided motherly affection.

Then the moment died.

"The Lady Aria, as your Father mentioned, is on her way here to meet you".

I stiffened, feeling the color drain from my face as she said what she said. "She's from the House of Xiang in the north. One of the largest noble households in Rou".

"-But…" Father steps in. "She is the only living heir, as her parents, and many uncles are very old. And have no other children".

"Furthermore," Mother went on. "As heir she can match you in all land, title, riches. Which can only make you richer".

"Mother", I give her hands a squeeze before letting them go. Her smile fading little by little. "As much as I love to see you happy… You both are well aware of the last time you tried this".

"Nonsense," Father grumbles, folding his arms over his chest. "Last time it was that Roushan farm girl that couldn't stop fainting every time you opened your mouth. And I warned you about the fangs Logan. I told you less chat, more flowers. Women love flowers".

Mother shot him a look that forced him to go silent. "What your Father says is true, but know that flowers do nothing but wither once cut".

"It doesn't matter", I let out a sigh. No longer caring for this topic. "The guests are welcome, but I'm afraid I won't be joining".