“It’s a bit late for that,” Ilain replied with a tip of her glass in his direction. “You don’t have to worry. I’ve got Thom to protect me should any men have nefarious designs on my person.”
Feeling the lightheadedness of the ale hitting his own system, Thom frowned at her. “I’m not exactly at my best at the present moment,” he said.
“You’re never at your best,” Ilain retorted, then turned back to her siblings. “You’re sending Rey back to Mum and Da?”
Though Vayden looked ready to pursue the previous conversation, Isla spoke first. “We are,” she said. “Veris and Lorna Grenwoode are returning to the moors themselves, so they offered to take her with them.”
Ilain made a face. “Poor Rey. That’ll be a dreadfully boring trip.”
Isla grinned. “She is looking forward to being with your parents and the horses again. Though she requested to join our mission as well.”
“Of course she did.”
Thom felt like an interloper sitting in on the family exchange. After the past month of developing a friendship with Ilain—a true miracle if there ever was one—he found himself interested in learning as much as he could about the enigma of the Fire Mage. She was strange and confusing to him. He’d come to see the similarities they shared between their passionate, strong-willed personalities. But where Thom was prone to cynicism and a sense of inferiority, Ilain was confident and crafty. She wore a façade few had the opportunity to crack, and he was determined to discover what was truly underneath.
As though sensing Thom’s thoughts, Ilain turned to him. “You’ve got yourself an admirer, you know,” she said.
“What?” he replied, confused by the sudden diversion.
“Reyana,” Isla clarified. “Our daughter has worked up an infatuation for you.”
Now, it was Vayden’s turn to say, “What?”
Isla patted his hand. “Don’t worry, love. Infatuations are merely part of growing into a young woman.”
Thom let out a small grunt of disapproval, though he didn’t think any of them could hear it over the chaos around them. “I assure you,” he said to Vayden, “I won’t be returning her interest.”
“I should hope not,” Vayden said sharply. “She’s still a child.”
Ilain’s gaze, somewhat glassy from drink, drifted to the front of the tavern before returning to her brother. “Thirteen isn’t quite a child.”
“But neither is it old enough for romance,” Isla countered.
“It most certainly is not,” Vayden agreed, looking thoroughly uncomfortable with the idea that his daughter might not be quite as childlike as he’d imagined.
Ilain shrugged, then took a deep sip of wine, eyes shifting back to the front of the room.
Vayden muttered something in Schonese, at which his wife chuckled. Then he reached over and set his hand on top of Ilain’s wine glass. “Why are you drinking yourself into a stupor?” he demanded.
Though she scowled, his sister crossed her arms and sat back. Her eyes flicked away again.
Thom followed her line of sight and smirked. “If I had to wager a guess, it probably has something to do with that,” he said, pointing to the far corner, where Ethenn, Emmaas, and Lieutenant Lohen now sat conversing with another woman who had joined them, her chair drawn very near to the young man’s.
The woman was quite beautiful, with tight golden curls and porcelain skin. She had a sharp nose like many Wauldeners, but it only served to give character to her otherwise soft and youthful face. She wore a dress of sky blue, its flowy fabric draped with a demure, romantic flair, while the fit gracefully indicated an ideally feminine figure beneath its delicate folds.
And she was clearly entranced by Ethenn.
“Ah,” Vayden said, then frowned. He looked at Ilain. “I don’t understand. I thought you liked Ivry.”
Ilain took another swig of wine, her bare shoulders growing tense. “I have no personal problems with Ivry. She’s a fine Mage even if she is a scheming hag.”
“Oh,” Thom said, then laughed. “Oh, I see. She’s a Mage.”
“And Ethenn is a Warrior,” Ilain said flatly.
Thom looked over at the pair. The woman, Ivry, was smiling brightly at Ethenn, and, admittedly, she had a lovely smile. As expected, a crimson-red flush was creeping up from under Ethenn’s collar at Ivry’s attention. What was unexpected was that Ethenn was talking to her and smiling back.
When Ivry’s hand came to rest on Ethenn’s forearm with evident flirtatious intent, Ilain knocked back the rest of her wine and stood. “Excuse me,” she muttered.
