“Yes, we’ve met.” I nod towards Aten, trying the unfamiliar gesture out. But as I raise my head, our eyes lock, and that strange surge of warmth hits me, flooding me, and my lips part as if I need to catch my breath.
His eyes narrow, just a fraction, as if trying to read my reaction to him. Relaxing into the warmth doesn’t work, either, and the longer we hold each other’s gaze, the hotter it becomes, not just in my chest but also running down my arms, all the way to my fingers. Pulsing.
His eyes are soft, their deep brown so inviting it feels dangerous, yet I want to relax into the sensation they evoke. Safe.
And then, they shift, breaking the spell.
His movement reminds me where we are, and I sit back in my chair and look anywhere but at him.
As well as the Head of each Order, other members make up The Chamber, each wearing a colour to indicate their Order—a uniform, I guess. There’s a formidable-looking man in red, next to a leaner one, without the bulk and muscle of his neighbour. There are also a couple of trainees I recall from the earlier, awkward introduction.
The girl who called me out as an outsider. She and, given the close resemblance, I guess her brother, sit next to each other, both dressed in deep, rich red that reminds me of the colour of blood. Further down the table, I recognise a girl in green, sitting next to an older man who I presume is her father.
Her voluminous ebony hair and dark features make her look strikingly beautiful, but she’s not brash like the ones in red. She gives me a small smile and a nod, a quiet gesture, and then takes the gold cup in front of her and drinks. I spy the bracelet on her arm, glistening with a green stone at the centre. Everyone has a piece of jewellery, not always a necklace.
She sets her cup down, reminding me that I, too, have a gold cup, and I’m suddenly desperate for a drink. But as I bring the cup to my lips, it’s not water, as I’d expect. The scent of heavy fruits, rich and potent, hits before my lips can taste it.
Red wine.
I swallow it, savouring the fruity, strong taste. It’s… peculiar. A little sweet, a little sour. I’ve never tasted wine before.
My tongue runs over my bottom lip, capturing every drop of taste as I put my cup back down, and as I do, I can feel his eyes on me. I look up, catching Aten watching me. But he doesn’t lookaway, and the smile that he wore earlier in the food hall is back on his lips.
“Now that we are all here—” The booming voice to my left captures everyone’s attention, and we all turn to watch Orion Ciro, who’s standing and raising his cup. “Here is to this season for our trainees and their first trial. May your learning continue to strengthen the realm of Kirrasia, and may Aslendrix continue to watch over you.” He raises his head to the ceiling, the statue of the Goddess behind him, and then drinks.
And everyone follows his lead.
I look around and take another tentative sip.
The Maker takes a drink from her position further down the table. There’s no hierarchy that I can make out. Other than the fact that Orion Ciro thinks of himself as above everyone else here, including his own family.
There must be over thirty-five people seated, but certainly not all the trainees. I count only five of us and think back to what he proclaimed at the toast.
“Celestine, forgive me, but is this a dinner to celebrate the trainees?” I ask.
“In a way. The Chamber comes together to celebrate the trainees every year. We are a little late this year, but with your arrival, it seemed right to do it now.” She has a whimsical way about her. Her words are melodic, and I imagine the roll of the ocean waves as she speaks.
“So, if this is a toast to us, why aren’t we all here? The trainees?”
“Because they aren’t all members of The Chamber. The Heads and top advisors of each Order form The Chamber. We celebrate those trainees who are descendants of Chamber members. To have four trainees in one year is a record.” The man to my right answers the question, and I realise he looksfamiliar. “Well, five now, if we count you. I’m Perrin. One of your Custodians.”
I offer a tight smile. “Isn’t that unfair? And why am I here?” I want to ask him other questions, too. He seems open to talking and providing information. A rarity.
“You are a guest of The Chamber. At least until your Transference,” Orion interrupts. “So be grateful for this while you have it.” I stare at him and see his cold and calculating demeanour staring back. I’m suddenly glad that his eyes are nothing like his son’s.
“Now,” he raises his voice. “Let’s eat.” He claps his hands in an over-the-top way, clearly summoning the food. And people file out from… somewhere… carrying plates piled with food.
Carefully, they each place the meal in front of us. And when everyone has their food, Orion begins, stabbing his fork into the mountain of meat.
There is far too much food in front of me: potatoes, vegetables, and a rich gravy. I’ll never eat all of this.
Don’t show him any weakness.
My hand clutches my gold fork as the voice enters my head, but I’m not sure who it belongs to. I don’t miss that Aten’s head shoots up at exactly the same time as mine. He looks directly at me and then at his mother as if working something out.
Did he hear that, too? Inside his head?
But Celestine shows no outward sign that she meant to communicate with either of us, and delicately spears a carrot with her fork.
