“We don’t mind helping,” Deckard offered, but Vayden waved him off.
They drew two tables together to suit their large party. In the shuffle to take their seats, Deckard was placed at the head with Evylin on one side and Thom on the other. Ilain readily took the seat next to Evylin, pulling Isla to sit next to her, creating a women’s side of the table while Rafferty, Ethenn, and Auden were left to line up next to Thom, leaving the opposite head seat for Vayden, nearest to his wife.
“Do they have ale in this fine establishment?” Rafferty asked.
“They do,” Isla said, settling her silver skirts around her. “However, I wouldn’t advise that you drink any.”
Rafferty lifted his white-blond brows. “Watered down?”
“Not at all,” she replied. “You’re simply in for a night of imbibing. It’d be best to keep your head on straight for the approaching meeting.”
A look of pure excitement drew Rafferty’s eyes wide while Thom leaned forward to ask, “The Alliance is keen on raucous parties?”
“The Alliance is keen on community,” Ilain corrected, the brilliance of her rings contrasting strangely with her unusual, drab gray outfit. “We believe in living life to the fullest while building lasting connections. Often, that dynamic includes alcohol. It helps loosen the tongue and encourages...” Her eyes flashed to Ethenn, then she smirked. “Intimacy, both of the platonic and romantic variety.”
Evylin and Deckard exchanged a look.
“Don’t make our gatherings sound illicit, Lain,” Auden chided, then addressed the rest of them. “They are wholesomeevents meant to inspire deep conversation and familial attachments. There’s nothing raucous about them.”
“Tell that to Vayden,” Isla murmured.
Ilain snorted, a glimmer in her eye as she cast a look toward her brother, who was gathering refreshments in the kitchen. “Ah, yes. He rather embarrassed himself by professing his undying love for Isla at a celebration a couple of decades back,” she explained. “I believe he broke his wrist when he fell off the table.”
“It still gives him pangs when the weather’s foul,” Isla confirmed.
“You mean every day here in Wauld?” Thom returned.
Isla gave him an amused grin.
“So that’s what we have to expect this evening?” Deckard asked. “A celebration?”
“Well, first,” Vayden said, appearing at the table bearing a platter of meats and cheeses on one arm and a basket of bread on the other, “you’re to expect a meeting of the Administration. Darling,” he turned to Isla, “would you mind helping? My wrist is killing me today.”
Isla took the basket proffered toward her. “It’s your other hand, love.”
“That it is,” Vayden replied with a wink.
Following close behind him, the older woman from the kitchen placed glasses in front of each of them with a deft hand, then plunked a pitcher of water on the table and scurried back to her work at the hearth.
“Thank you, Mrs. Howerth,” Vayden called, then took the seat next to Isla. He eyed Rafferty’s hand, already in the breadbasket. “Shall we say grace?”
Rafferty’s wily fingers stilled, then slowly withdrew a slice of rye. “That’s right,” he said sourly. “You lot are religious.”
“You’re not?” Isla asked.
He smirked. “Allore and I have our agreements.”
Vayden reached out and took his wife’s and brother’s hands, grinning at the weasel. “Then you won’t object to showing gratitude, will you?”
Evylin sucked in her bottom lip. She wasn’t particularly religious herself, and prayers for meals were more of a familial habit than devout practice. She wondered what the Calders—and the Alliance at large—would say if they learned that she didn’t fully espouse their views. Then Deckard’s fingers slipped around hers, and she wondered whathewould say about that. One of the first things she’d noticed about the captain who joined her family’s dinner was his fervent “by your grace” as her father concluded the prayer. They’d never discussed their respective faiths, but now she worried he’d be disappointed to learn that hers was lacking.
Eyes closed, Evylin struggled to pay attention as Vayden’s deep baritone filled the air. There were a great many things she and Deckard had never discussed. Their marriage was so quick, so unexpected, and they hadn’t had time to question the efficacy of their union. Were they really a good match? Yes, as unexpected as it was to discover he was a Mage, and she was a Warrior, did that mean they were well-suited to one another? Certainly, the Calders touted the coincidence as Allore’s way of marking them as one another’s perfect balance. But then, that would make Auden as much her match as Deckard, and she certainly didn’t believe that to be true.
The mumbled “by your graces” said around the table brought Evylin out of her disconcerted reverie. Deckard’s hand lingered on hers before reaching to fill her glass with water. She watched his movements with growing unease. Should she broach the subject with him? There was so much they didn’t know about one another. She hadn’t even told him about Ryen. If she lovedDeckard, shouldn’t she be open with him about every area of her life, even the most broken, devastating parts?
“You mentioned a meeting,” Deckard said, setting Evylin’s glass in front of her. “Is it one we’re required to attend?”
“I wouldn’t say you’re required.” Vayden sat back while the Ephrians and his siblings snatched up the food hungrily. “But I would recommend you join.”
