“If you can plait like that, there’s no reason you shouldn’t be able to tailor clothes.”
On his knees, Eli froze. His eyes flashed up, guilty before he’d even answered. “I said Icantailor clothes.”
Austin said nothing.
Pink spots coloured the tops of Eli’s cheeks again. “I’m smart and good with my hands. I pay attention, and I can tell you more about what’s going on in Prince Tristan’s estate than any of the other attendants the palace could send.”
“And why’s that?”
“They know Prince Hal’s court, and all his politics—which I know too—butthey have no interest in Prince Tristan’s fighters. Beyond knowing Captain Inx or Secretary Char, they haven’t a clue. ButIalready know where half of the men here came from, where they learned to fight and from who, and I promise by the end of the week, I’ll know the other half.” Eli’s eyes gleamed with determination and desperation.
Austin stood. “I didn’t say I was going to swap you out, did I? You said dinner’s waiting? Lead the way.”
Eli leapt to his feet. “Yes, sir.”
“Don’t call me sir.”
Cessair was always called “sir”.
“Yes…merman?”
“Austin.”
Despite Austin’s tone, Eli’s expression brightened. “Austin,” he repeated. “The dining room is this way.”
Austin paid more attention to his surroundings as Eli led him through the trellis-roofed paths between buildings. Grey flagstone wound between squat, shadowy buildings—Austin counted a dozen or so—leading to a giant multi-storied building and a large courtyard. Wide double doors were invitingly open, and Austin let out a relieved breath at how well lit it was.
As they stepped inside, Eli scuttled to the wall and stood there with others dressed in similar plain clothes, except they had sandals where Eli wore boots. They all stole glances at Austin. He feigned ambivalence.
A dark wood dining table was the main event of the room. Candles and glowing blue stones threw off an abundance of light, illuminating the occupants seated around it. A woman dressed in silks of peach and tea green caught candlelight in the folds of her dress, the old man opposite absorbing it in dark-grey clothes. Another man had insect-hide gauntlets covering his forearms, but on second look, they seemed to actually be part of his arms. A coat of vibrant blue was carelessly cast on the back of his chair, a black canvas shirt half untucked from dark cotton trousers.
Austin’s gaze was drawn to the merman. Tristan sat at the far head of the table and trailed an openly admiring look down Austin’s body that gave him pause. The man had seen Austin naked on the beach, but there had been no such heat in his eye then.
Court fashion? Attraction was stirring because Austin now looked the part of someone with status? Someone he’d find desirable?
An odd tension clung to Austin’s skin as the silence stretched into seconds. All eyes were upon him, a specimen under a microscope. The old man’s eyes flitted to Tristan with a silent query that went unanswered, and when he turned back, his lips parted.
Austin strode forward, forcing his body to move as if it felt not even an ache. He ignored the spot to Tristan’s immediate right, set with cutlery, and claimed the nearest chair instead: the opposite head of the table.
All looked to Tristan, even the shadowy staff, as if there was about to be a fight. Tristan was oblivious to them, too busy studying the way the delicate silver chains on the shirt sleeves draped down Austin’s arms. Austin reached out and took the empty wine glass of the man to his right—Tristan watched his wrists closely—and Austin cut a sharp look to where a shadow stood with a black shape he guessed, hoped, was a bottle of wine. She rushed forward and filled his glass.
Red liquid swirled in the glass, the strong smell bringing back memories of the many binge-drinking weeks he’d fallen into over the past few years. He sipped the wine, weighing up the wisdom of undertaking another one now. Perhaps his problems might magically solve themselves a week from now, if he could borrow another’s luck. With his own, the opposite was likely to happen.
He met Tristan’s eyes. The merman had finally dragged them from his half-exposed arms, but after a moment, Austin realised Tristan wasn’t looking at his eyes at all. He was studying his pinned hair.
Austin sipped his wine.
Tristan watched his mouth, then his throat as he swallowed.
Austin watched him watching.
The old man cleared his throat and stood. “I’m Char, the secretary and head of staff. This is Captain Inx, head of the Troop.” Char gestured to the unkempt man, who raised a hand shielded in exoskeleton in greeting. He studied Austin with an unabashedly curious look. Char continued, “And Lady Eloise is a cousin visiting from Asar.”
Austin made ahmsound in reply.
Char waited an awkward second and gestured to the walls. Staff came forward, efficiently presenting them all with worryingly hearty dishes of succulent red meat, baked cheese, unfamiliar vegetables and something starchy akin to potatoes. Austin put great effort into not scrunching his nose. Tristan seemed to sense his disapproval regardless and tensed subtly in turn.
Nobody spoke or reached for cutlery even after the staff retreated. Unsubtle eyes flicked between Tristan and Austin, waiting for someone to make some sort of move. Austin had a sinking feeling they were waiting on a cue fromhimbefore they started eating. He heated, sensing he was misstepping but unaware of how or where.
