Mabon scoffs. “Why are you in charge?”
Ignoring him, Jac slings an arm around my shoulders and squeezes. “What do you say, Ace? Will you show us your new stomping grounds? For old times’ sake?”
I mull it over for a beat, then shrug. “Oh, why not.”
We head off in search of refreshments. I can’t help smiling at their expressions as they take in the undeniable splendor of Hylios. The sun is shining down, warm and bright, bathing the white stone buildings that line the canals, refracting off the domed blue rooftops. Colorful flowers explode from every facade, their vines bursting with fresh blooms.
I bring them first through the floating market by flatboat, laughing as they sample imported delicacies from places none of us have ever heard of—Cadogan choking on a shrimp skewer inhis haste to swallow, Mabon’s face screwing up in a horrified mask as I explain the cracker he’s just consumed is made from dehydrated sea lion testicles. Even our hired sternman chuckles as the fearsome Ember Guild warrior spews over the side.
My spirits soar higher as we disembark by a busy tavern I visited several days ago with Yara, Thisobei, and Vaughn. The proprietor has a stake in Vintners’ Cove, and serves the best wine in the city. Every table is filled with happy Hylians, all drinking and smoking from long-hosed braziers, but we manage to carve out a space to stand by the bar with a view of the canal.
It does indeed feel like old times, albeit with a few glaring exceptions. Uther’s absence among us is a blow that still takes my breath away.
As is Penn’s.
He did not come to the wedding. I can feel his presence through the bond, not so very far away, so I know he is still in the city somewhere. Surely he will make an appearance at the feast…If not to celebrate the couple or speak to me, then to revisit his plans for a southern invasion with Soren.
I sip my wine, reminding myself that the complexities of my personal relationships pale in comparison to the other decisions that will be made during this royal assemblage. For by the end of it, Dyved and Llyr will remain allies in arms or fracture irrevocably apart.
I cannot predict that outcome any more than I can predict my own future. And so, for a time, I allow myself the chance to drink and laugh with my friends, shored up by their tales of campaigns on the northern coast, of clandestine missions through Cimmerian snow.
I’ve missed them.
Gods, I’ve missed them.
Just as I will now miss people here if I set sail tomorrow…
I think I do a good job of smiling and laughing. Feigning normalcy, despite the tumult inside. But every so often, I’ll catch Mabon’s dark eyes on the side of my face, or see the way Cadogan’s pale blond brows furrow with concern, and I know they are not entirely fooled by my act.
Chapter
twenty-four
Alaric and Arwen sway to the music, staring deeply into each other’s eyes. They are surrounded by other dancing couples who move their bodies in time with the quartet of fiddlers. Yara and Farley, both a bit bleary-eyed from their drinking rematch, appear to be holding each other up as they rock back and forth, paying no mind to the rhythm. Harpina and a stunningly beautiful Hylian woman are much more coordinated on the edge of the dance floor, clad in gowns of the same orange hue. Jac has somehow convinced Bretiax to let him lead her onto the floor—he does not know how to sign, but evidently his charm surpasses the need for words. Even Mabon has been dragged away, incapable of resisting Thisobei’s mischievous invitation.
Only Cadogan remains seated with Penn and me at our once crowded table, and we might as well be invisible to him. His eyes are riveted to the siren sisters reposed on a wide chaise across the gardens. Even from here, I see they are surrounded by admirers on large colorful pillows in the grass.
Melité and Tethys are supposedly muting their seductive song, but it seems to saturate the atmosphere regardless, working a slow spell over everyone at the feast as the afternoon fades to streaks of pink twilight, then slips into the silvery blue of a risingfull moon. Silent servants move along the tables, lighting candles and torches, illuminating the paper lanterns strung from the thwacking palms.
All traces of the elaborate meal have long since been cleared. I fidget in my chair, wishing I could vanish as easily as the canapés had. Penn, on the contrary, is stock-still in the seat across from mine. Just as he’s been since he first dropped into it two hours ago.
Inches away, he might as well be leagues. I tell myself to shatter the heavy quiet, but I’m even more tongue-tied around him than I was last night—especially when I feel the weight of a bold blue stare locked on us from the main table some distance away, where the King of Llyr is seated beside his brother.
Strangely, I sense nothing through the bond from Soren. He is muting me—and has been, I realize belatedly, since we left the cove yesterday after my lightning lesson. Since that electrified moment when our eyes met and…
Skies, I must not think of that.
I study the tablecloth as though it is the most fascinating piece of artwork, willing time to pass faster. The feast itself was not so bad. Sure, the exquisitely prepared food tasted like ash on my tongue and my appetite had been nonexistent. But when I was actively chewing, I was not in danger of blurting out half-formed thoughts that will only further muddle a murky situation.
I’d happily force down another plate if only to have something to do with my mouth. Perhaps Penn feels the same, for he grunted no more than a handful of words to his men throughout the meal. He’s never been one for expressing himself freely. And last night, when he’d finally found the fortitude to try…
I was the one to withdraw.
That must’ve crushed him. He can barely meet my eyes now. When Farley made an absentminded remark earlier about thejourney home, Penn physically flinched in pain. As though the possibility that I might not return to Dyved with them tomorrow was more than he could bear.
This fire you have lit inside me will burn and burn and burn until it has consumed me from within…
I take another sip from my goblet, all the while knowing there is not enough wine in the world to ease the tension thickening the air around me like a cloud. Over the rim, my eyes snag on Penn’s.