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Draven slammed his hands down on the table. The sound echoed through the room. “You like to laugh, don't you, Avriel? There's something about a smile that can goad most of your opponents, isn't there? It makes your job easier as you pick off those you perceive as weak. But while you're laughing all alone, I'll be here thanking the gods I have a woman beside me who leaves me with no doubt that she is my equal in every way. Morgan Pendragon is far from insignificant. She's a force of destiny and you would do well not to trifle with her or ever let her name cross your lips again.”
“Insults only hurt when they come from people I actually respect, Avriel,” I added quickly, trying not to think of how Draven had just described me as his equal in every way... and a force of destiny. “You're certainly not one of them.”
“Shall I find him a short route back to whatever hell he came from?” Crescent asked, stepping forward.
“This is a fun game,” Rychel chirped. “Can I play? You're an insufferable egotist, Avriel. You're one to talk about being a hanger-on when you toady up to our stepmother as if you would suck on her teat like an infant if she let you. I'd punch you in the face with the greatest of pleasure if I wasn't already so confident my brother would be doing it on behalf of us all soon. Lyrastra took pity on you today but I pray she doesn't the next time. She’s worth a dozen of you put together.”
Rychel leaned forward, her palms flat upon the table, her normally calm face a mask of rage. “Now get the hell out of my home before I show you just how badly this little group of misfits can fuck you up.”
Hawl let out a deep, ominous growl, as Rychel glanced down the table at where the children sat. “My apologies, Taina, Beks.”
Gawain already had his hands over the little girl's ears. She looked scared and nervous.
Beks’ face was solemn. He was far too astute a child not to grasp everything that was happening around him.
I glared at Avriel, fury running through me–for Beks and Taina’s sake but also for Rychel and Draven’s. He had ruined something lovely here tonight. He had tried to make everyone present feel less-than, beneath him.
Why?
“You mistake strength for arrogance and true companionship for weakness, Avriel.” My voice carried across the terrace. “You look down upon us? Despise us? But unlike you, we stand together. Look at you–alone and exposed in your twisted ambition and cruelty.” I gestured to the table of people around me. “You show up here only because you're desperate, envious, and bitter. And worse, you have nowhere else to go. You can't fathom the power of friendship because you've never come close to experiencing it. And in the end, that's why they'll beat you. Because you lack qualities you can't even comprehend.”
Lyrastra’s eyes flickered to mine as she took in the fact I had said “they” and not simply “he.”
But Avriel’s sneer only deepened. “I pray you aren’t about to say ‘love.’ I may have to vomit all over this floor if that trite word passes your lips.”
“Why would I say something so pointless?” I said calmly. “When your mind is too small to grasp the concept.” Beside me I felt Draven make a slight movement. “You’re a bully and a coward who picks on the weakest link to make himself feel strong. The prince doesn’t need to do that. He knows his own strength and he knows protecting the weak only makes him stronger.” I leaned forward and spoke the last words very clearly and slowly. “That’s why his legacy will live on long after you’re dead.”
Avriel’s smile fell away. His eyes narrowed.
“Don’t,” Crescent said from behind him. “Say another word except ‘good-bye.’”
“Good-bye?” Taina piped up.
But Avriel and Crescent were both gone.
Crescent reappeared a moment later, his usually cheerful face besmirched by a frown.
“Where did you leave him?” Gawain inquired, as Crescent sat back down beside his family with a sigh.
“An empty stall in the menagerie,” Crescent replied, perking up a little and giving me a meaningful look. “It was locked so it may take him a while to get out. I don’t think Master Rodrick was around.”
Hawl burst into a gruff growling laugh, slapping their leg with one paw. “Fitting.”
I raised my glass in a faux-toast. “Well done.”
Draven’s hand touched mine. “I think it’s time to go.”
I nodded, my heart speeding up a little. “I’m ready if you are.”
“Wait.” Rychel’s voice carried down the table. “First, a toast if you will.” She quirked her lips. “I find the Mermaid’s Song inspires me.”
We all rose, holding our glasses, even Beks and little Taina.
Rychel held her goblet aloft. “Here's to the fae and mortals alike, united by starlit dreams that span the skies. Gazes ablaze with stardust, their dreams become tapestries of hope as they envision guardians of realms and leaders of empires who are truly worthy. May their dreams find refuge.”
Rychel paused, looking at Lyrastra beside her, then down the table at her brother. “May we all dream of a future sovereign whose noble heart heeds the aspirations of the oppressed and who safeguards the dreams of the vulnerable, igniting Aercanum in infinite possibilities.”
It was evident who she had in mind. My hand slipped into Draven’s again and squeezed gently.
