The room fell into silence for but a moment before the murmurs began. Evylin inched closer to Deckard as Isla led their way to the far-left table. A gentleman dressed in all the trappings of wealth rose as they neared, but Vayden called from the back of the group, “Sit down, Clovis, or I’ll make you.”
Chagrined, the man dropped back into his seat while the people around him guffawed good-naturedly at his embarrassment.
From the back of the table, Isla gestured toward the center, where five empty seats awaited them. “Those are for you,” she instructed as Vayden stepped up to her side. “We’ll be across the table.”
While the couple split off from them, they walked down the length of the floor, attempting to keep their heads down and ignore the obvious stares of the Alliance members. When they stopped at their seats, Thom tapped Deckard’s arm and slipped around him, taking the one at the end while Deckard held the middle chair out of Evylin. Shortly thereafter, they were positioned—Ethenn, Rafferty, Evylin, Deckard, and Thom across from Auden, Ilain, Reyana, Isla, and Vayden.
As it appeared they were the last to arrive, one of the gentlemen at the head table rang a bell, signaling the start of the meeting. Several lines of serving staff funneled into the room, carrying trays of food while the gentleman stood. “Good evening, my friends,” he called in a steady Waulden accent. His gray hair and wrinkled face marked his age to be somewhere near seventy, but his sharp gaze betrayed no wizened mind. “It is wonderful to see you all together once again, despite the circumstances.”
With discomfort, Deckard adjusted next to Evylin. She felt just as uneasy as he, though she struggled to pay attention as platter after platter of food was set before them. Roasted goose, braised trout, meat pies, boiled potatoes, glazed carrots, fresh figs, glistening cherries, and lemon tarts. Her fingers twitched as another server placed a tiered dish of mini sausage rolls directly in front of her. The man at the head table was still talking, though, and no one had reached for the food except for Rafferty, who got a swift kick from Ilain across the table.
“As always, we will commence with the meal,” the gentleman was saying, “before we proceed to the hearing. Today, we are thankful for the return of our treasured members, Highlord and Highlady Calder.”
The siblings dipped their heads in gratitude at the recognition, though Ilain’s lips also quirked proudly in the corner. They’d both cleaned up as well. Auden’s wild beard was gone, and he’d tied back his overgrown hair. Dressed in a rich blue frock coat, he looked far more pulled together than he had since the Annaltide Day celebration in Loclight.
And Ilain—she’d accepted her return to civilized society with open arms. She wore a scarlet gown of luxurious silk, its low-cut bodice embellished with red glass beads that shimmered in the light and brought attention to the sheer organza sleeves that sat off her pale shoulders, the beadwork trailing down to her wrists. If that weren’t enough, her copper hair cascaded with renewed curls, and her jade green eyes were lined with the most delicate application of pigment.
Though Evylin was sure Deckard would call Ilain’s dress improper or unladylike, she couldn’t help finding it immeasurably stunning.
Based on how Ethenn completely avoided looking in Ilain’s direction while his neck turned the shade of her dress, he felt the same.
At the head table, the gentleman said a devout prayer over the meal, then bade them all enjoy the feast. It took no time for the Alliance members to take advantage of his permission. The room filled with chatter once again as people tucked into the meal with vigor. The serving staff continued to pass through the hall, offering to fill glasses with fragrant wine.
An older woman stopped next to Evylin and Deckard, pitcher in hand. “Schonese red, sir?” she offered.
“No, thank—” Deckard cut himself off, eyes widening. “Did you say Schonese?”
“Yes, sir.”
Without hesitation, Deckard lifted his glass to her. “Keep it coming.”
The woman smiled knowingly. “Yes, sir,” she said, then offered the same to Evylin.
Once she was gone, Evylin leaned over to him. “Who are you?”
Deckard’s brow pinched together as he took a sip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Evylin smirked. “Try not to get too drunk,” she said. “I’d rather not nurse you back to health in the morning.”
“It’s Schonese wine,” he protested, lifting the glass to his lips once more. “And I don’t get drunk.”
Evylin laughed, turning as she heard Auden say her name. He was talking to a beautiful, dark-skinned woman on his right, gesturing to the Ephrians in turn as he introduced them. The woman’s cunning eyes scanned the troop, nodding thoughtfully, though she looked disinterested in Auden’s conversation. On her other side sat Emmaas Caarney, the Warrior who’d helped to save them from Renaul.
Scanning the rest of the table, Evylin caught sight of Jarrad Hoult near the front of the room, in deep conversation with those around him. But the rest of the attendees were strangers to her. The great majority of men and women were undoubtedly Waulden, while a smattering—like Emmaas and the young woman at his side—were clearly Ephrian. She wondered how many of her countrymen had defected to join this rebel organization’s ranks.
“Who are those trussed-up peacocks up front?” Rafferty asked Ilain, drawing Evylin’s attention.
Ilain swallowed a sip of wine. “You mean the ministers?” she replied. “They’re our ruling body for the time being. There are eight, four men and four women, to represent balance. Though this is just the Waulden Administration. There are eight others across the border who handle Ephrian affairs.”
Evylin leaned forward in interest. “Is Lord Carlile one of them?” she asked, thinking of the white-haired man they’d met in Banbury before saving Prince Ephren’s life. The lord worked as King Ephren’s most trusted advisor, but as they’d discovered later, he was really a double agent for the Alliance.
“No,” Ilain said. “Carlile is simply a member, though an influential one.”
“Politics,” Rafferty grumbled. “Tell me, Lainy: Where’s the drama? Who hates whom? Who’s scheming? Who are the rivals?”
Ilain grinned wickedly. “And take the sport out of the discovery? No, no. You’ll have to weasel out that information yourself.”
Over the next hour, they ate their fill and laughed more heartily than they had in what seemed to be months. After much reflection, Evylin managed to pinpoint the exact moment: their celebration after rescuing Prince Ephren. Her heart pinched, thinking of Hewitt. She wished he were here, seated at her side. He would know what to do and what to say to the Alliance’s requests.
