I gagged again.
Gross.
“Better than cucumber water, sis,” Peytor said as he tipped his glass to me, finishing off his pour as well.
I rolled my eyes and relaxed back on the couch. I loved these nights with Peytor and Finian. It’s the only time, apart from the times in the dreamscape with Torin, when I truly felt free from expectations and secrets. A small smile came to my lips unexpectedly at the thought.
“What, or who, has you smiling like that?” Finian asked gently. “You look like Peytor when he looks at me. Must be a d’Aelius thing.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “No one, nothing. Just happy to be here with you both,” I said, my words not entirely a lie.
“Hmm,” Peytor hummed. “I saw you had an impromptu meeting with Mother and Father today. Want to tell us about that?”
I paused, gently picking at a loose thread on Peytor’s couch, contemplating my words, the heavy weight of my choices resettling on my chest.
Do I tell them everything? Is that a major decision that could impact everything? Do I keep it all to myself? If I don’t say something, I might explode.
“Hey, earth to Ellowyn!” Peytor called, waving his hand in front of my face. I knocked it back with a snort as it came close to hitting me. “Now,thatis a noise Mother would not approve of, young lady,” he mocked.
I rolled my eyes. “She doesn’t approve of much these days.”
“She’s hard on you because she loves you, wants you to do well and thrive when you head south,” Peytor explained. “Father is the same with me, and Matteo is the same with Finian. It’s just different because you’re a girl and have different . . . expectations.”
I grunted at that, slightly displeased that my lessons dealt with parties, babies, andpleasingmy husband.
“What, you mean Father doesn’t talk to you about parties, babies, and pleasing your wife?” Peytor choked on the last of his drink at my words and Finian barked a laugh.
“I mean, that ispartof it, I suppose,” Finian mused. “Though we also get the whole ‘affairs of State’ talk and such.”
“So, you two know about Lord d’Refan coming, then?” I hedged.
“Yes,” they said in unison, and I nodded.
“So, what’s going to happen? Are you signing up? Apparently, the majority of Mages who are sick need some type of Elemental Vessel . . .” I trailed off, expectantly.
Peytor and Finian shot each other a few secret looks, communicating with just their eyebrows and facial expressions.
“We’ve . . . discussed coming out to our parents,” Peytor finally said, and I gasped.
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” I shot up on the couch, beaming at my brother and his lover, but my face fell when I took in their expressions. “Isn’t it?”
Finian gave me a small, grim smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We’re . . . concerned about the backlash, obviously. But this visit from the Warlord feels . . .”
“Odd,” Peytor finished for him. “And the fact that they’re lookingspecificallyfor Elemental Vessels? In Hestin? Where I, the heir, am an Air Vessel and Finian, second-in-line, is a Water Vessel?” He shook his head and set his glass on the table with a thud. “Something doesn’t feel right, I just can’t put my finger on it.”
Silence encased the room for a few minutes as we all sat with our thoughts.
“What would his play be, though?” I mused. “We’re already allied to him. I don’t get it. It wouldn’t make sense to target you and Finian.”
Peytor shook his head and Finian shrugged his shoulders. “At this point, your guess is as good as mine, sis.”
Chapter 60
Ellowyn
The arrival of Lord d’Refan came upon us fast, our servants and Mother flitting around from room to room doing their best to create a space fit for him on such short notice. For the most part, I stayed out of the way, only leaving my room to practice with Mistress Lautaro. I tried to hide as best I could—sometimes in the gardens for a few hours or Peytor’s room—but somehow my mother or one of the servants always found me.
My mother was using Lord d’Refan’s arrival as “practical application” of the skills she’d taught me over the past few months. It was tedious work and, more than once, my mother lost her temper, using me as a proverbial punching bag. Though I suspected that her anger and anxiety was less due to me and more due to the situation at hand, it still exacerbated the frustration bubbling just under the surface of my skin.
