It’s a kindness I don’t deserve from him and, therefore, don’t trust. I’m beginning to worry that I don’t dislike him as much as I thought I did. This feels something like begrudging affection, and that is a truly dangerous thing.
Fiddlers are already playing lively folk music on a small, raised dais by the fireplace, and I try to pay attention to that instead of the urgency pounding in my blood and the steady murmur of gossip.
I’m not surprised that they’re eager to judge me. I’m a city girl in an elevated position in the fort, and the one thing that permeates their culture as much as society in Lunameade is the fact that women are always held to a higher level of scrutiny than men.
I’m less offended by their judgment than I am that they believe I’d actually sneak off with Stefan.
“They seem to have taken the news about the Breeder in stride,” I whisper.
Henry gives me an indulgent smile and leans in to whisper in my ear. “Yes, well, these are all the most powerful magical families. They want to know what we’re dealing with.”
He pulls me closer to his side, his hand hot through the thin silk of my dress. Silk is so impractical with the cold here, but Henry is still picking out my clothing. I think he likes that I let him stand closer when I’m cold. I only allow it because I’m mildly entertained by distracting him.
I study him out of the corner of my eye as we cross the room.Everyone looks to him with respect—everyone but Stefan, who looks at the two of us like he’s trying to set us on fire with his eyes. He’s going to need to be dealt with soon. If Henry doesn’t do it his way, I’ll have to do it mine.
Henry keeps glancing over his shoulder at Gaven. Truthfully, I’ve become so good at ignoring my bodyguard over the years that I hardly notice him anymore. But Henry is forever irritated by his presence. Despite my scolding, the two of them have not made peace.
The feast room is set up so unlike the dining room at Carrenwell House. Instead of one long dining table covered in brand-new taper candles and floral bouquets with the ruling family at the head, there are eleven smaller tables decorated with small vases of wildflowers and half-burned pillar candles in glass cases. They’re set up in a U-shape, with a four-person table in front of the large glass windows on the far side of the room and five tables running down each side.
“This is the typical layout of the room when we’re not having a wedding. There’s one table for each of our top magical families,” Henry whispers as he leads me through the room. “Two for each level of the fort, and then my family for level six.”
Gaven shifts behind us, an unnecessary reminder to me—and, more importantly, Henry—that he’s watching closely.
I’m not foolish enough to believe Henry’s caretaking over the past few days is completely selfless, but Gaven’s hackles are up. His hovering has been more incessant and smothering than usual. There is no one in my life I’ve spent more time with than Gaven, and while his job is to be suspicious, I’m still irritated. It’s not like I wanted to let Henry take care of me. I just didn’t have the energy to make him leave.
I haven’t lost my edge. I can’t afford to, for Aidia’s sake.
Simply thinking of her bruised face strengthens my resolve. Just because I tolerate Henry doesn’t mean I can’t do what needs to be done. If it comes down to him or my sister, it isn’t even a contest.
Evangeline and Philip Havenwood are already sitting at our table. When I first met them, they seemed as cold and focused as my parents. Of course, that’s how I would expect them to be if they think my father sent the horde of Drained that killed their daughter.
But seeing them safe and in their element, I see the warmth betweenthem. Unlike my parents, who only ever display a practiced and performative tolerance of each other, the Havenwoods seem to actually be in love. Philip whispers something into Evangeline’s ear, and she smiles and swats his arm playfully. The kind of easy intimacy between them can’t be faked.
Henry nods to his mother as he guides me to my seat at the other end of the head table. “We can leave any time you need to,” he whispers as he slides my chair in for me.
I glare at him as he takes his seat. “I’m not some fragile thing. You don’t need to keep checking on me.”
His smirk is as irritating as it is devastating. “Prickly.”
This disquieting feeling of being seen is intimacy. Henry should be put off by my grumpy demeanor, but he seems almost charmed by it.
He tilts my chin up and brushes a kiss to my lips—because we’re in public and he likes antagonizing me by making me play along.
“What if I like checking on you?” he whispers as he draws away.
“Men who like their wives weak should be treated with the utmost suspicion,” I say.
He clicks his tongue, ignoring the weighty stares of everyone in the room. “I don’t like you weak. I like you fiery. That’s why I’ll always let you know there’s an escape route—so that you can keep your pride.”
I’m speechless. While I miss the familiarity of being at odds, this strange new territory is exhilarating.
Henry turns back to face his people and runs a hand through his dark hair. It’s a little too short to tuck behind his ears, which means it’s always falling into his eyes, giving him an air of broody mysteriousness. The scar on his throat stands out in the candlelight, a pale slash against olive skin that still makes my blood run cold. I’m struck by the desire to run my tongue over it—as if I could taste his pain and know what it takes to come back from something unsurvivable.
The thought is jarring. I take a slow sip of wine and glance around the room, taking in the array of colorful auras. Everyone is keeping to themselves except Stefan. His muddy orange aura is poking and prodding at the family of purple auras at the table to his left.
Of course, he abuses his blessing. It’s a rare thing to meet a man who doesn’t abuse Polm’s magic. Kellan is very much the exception and notthe rule. Though I wonder how many men would be so bold if they knew someone could see what they’re doing.
He must feel me staring because his gaze snaps to mine. I click my tongue and shake my head, and even though I know he can’t hear it, his face goes red and he sits back in his chair. His aura retreats, tucking in close to his body.
