He pressed his lips together and wiped away a droplet of ale. Laughter rang out from the front table. Rafferty doled out some cash as he “lost,” obviously lulling his audience into a false sense of security. Thom wondered if the Alliance would kick Rafferty out for swindling so many of their members tonight.
Suddenly, a fire-bright presence appeared at Thom’s side. “You’re moping,” Ilain said, then turned to the barkeep. “Imelda, could I have another, please?”
The woman took her wine glass and began refilling it while Ilain leaned against the bar. Her rich red dress did wonders for her figure, making her appear more voluptuous than she was. Not that Thom knew firsthand. He’d simply seen enough women to know when things were illusory. And by the way Ilain rested against the counter, her torso slanted just right, she was evidently aware of how the dress played to her more provocative assets.
“You are stunning,” Thom said dryly, gesturing to her stance. “Are you flirting with me once more?”
Ilain accepted the wine glass from Imelda with a gracious “thank you.” Then she gave Thom the most searing glare he’d ever received. “Why would I ever flirt withyouagain,” she said with venom, “when you’ve ruined what might be my one chance at happiness?”
Thom raised his brow, keeping his expression in check despite how his gut twisted. “That’s an excellent question,” he said. “It begs another, though.”
“Does it?”
“Mm. Why are you talking to me in the first place?”
Ilain eyed him. “Perhaps I intend to punish you.”
“By gracing me with your sparkling presence?” Thom scoffed and turned back to his ale. “Consider me reprimanded.”
She didn’t reply, but neither did she leave.
Surrounded as they were, Thom didn’t think it was the right place to have the conversation they ought to have but took a long swig of ale and did it anyway. “I’m sorry,” he said, meeting her angry glare. “I made a mistake. One in a long line of thousands. I would have said something sooner, but...”
Ilain twirled the stem of her glass, waiting.
Thom took a deep breath. “I’m gonna fix it,” he promised.
“How?” she demanded.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Hm.” Ilain tapped a finger on the bartop, pursed her lips, and then pushed herself to stand. “Good enough. Come with me.”
“Pardon?” Thom said, baffled.
Ilain didn’t bother to explain. She grabbed the collar of his coat, and he grappled to get ahold of his tankard before she pulled him from the counter. Across the narrow room, she dragged him to Vayden and Isla’s table. The couple sat closely on the L-shaped bench, and Ilain took the seat closest to her sister-in-law.
“Sit,” Ilain ordered Thom, pointing to the chair next to her.
Cautiously, Thom glanced at Vayden and Isla—who were both watching him with interest—before doing as told.
“How many have you had tonight, Lainy?” Vayden asked, nodding to his sister’s wine glass.
“You know I have a high tolerance,” Ilain returned. “And we had a large meal.”
Isla smiled knowingly. “Not even we Mages possess that high a tolerance, dear.”
Suddenly understanding the reason for Ilain’s additionally ostentatious demeanor, Thom chuckled. “You’re drunk?” he asked.
“I’m not drunk,” Ilain said. “I’m tipsy. Seems you should know the difference.”
“Because I drink so much?”
“Because you’re friends with Rafferty.”
Thom opened his mouth to reply before realizing she was right. The weasel did have a habit of pushing spirits on his friends at an abnormal rate.
Vayden watched their exchange thoughtfully, then leaned toward his sister. “For my sanity, try not to overdo it, Lain.”
