Attached to Leander’s hand like her palms had little suction devices on them, Everly was silent in an eerie way she never was at home. Leander’s heart ached for her—she had been so excited to attend her great aunt’s party but now she was here she couldn’t understand why she couldn’t just sit on said aunt’s lap like she always did.
For once, with Everly in his charge, Leander was not being frivolous with his consumption of alcohol. Of all things, he took his duties as an uncle very seriously, which was why he didn’t seek out his regular companions and instead worked hard to speak to more respectable guests who would help him to draw a suddenly very shy six-year-old into the conversation.
Guests mingled in small circles, exchanging pleasantries and engaging in polite but meaningless conversation. Tonight was not a night for politics, instead they would welcome the queen into her next year of life with gusto.
Slaves passed through the hall, carrying trays laden with canapés or sparkling wine flutes.
Eventually, Aerilyn came to relieve Leander of Everly, who had finally settled into the evening and had found her voice once more. The child went willingly with her mother, after a moment of encouragement. Leander watched her leave, realising just how fond he was of his youngest niece.
With Everly gone, Leander immediately sought out his friends, grabbing a flute of sparkling wine as a slave passed and took a sip as his eyes scanned the throng of guests. One such friend already well on his way to becoming inebriated. Leander grinned. Good.
“Well hello, Leo,” Theite greeted, raising his glass in a half-salute to welcome the demigod. “These prigs can’t hold their drink”—he waved to the circle he was currently holding court with—“so it’s good of you to finally join us and show us how it’s done.”
Leander grinned in response. “Oh, I’m sure they’re not that bad. Give them an honest chance.”
“If you insist. Are you here alone? I can only assume that your father still hasn’t set suitable companions on you for you to court. It is unbecoming a man of your age and station to be so frivolously single, surely you are aware of that?”
“I doubt he ever will think me suitable for a companion, let alone finding someone who would tolerate me.”
“Good,” Theite said, a little too loudly. “It would be a shame for me to suffer through these endless events without you.”
“And where is your date, then, if you are so preoccupied with partners and future relationships?”
“Oh, she’s circling too, I kissed her goodbye and I’m sure she’ll find me when she is ready for my company again. Ideally soon, for I do so miss her.”
Leander laughed, knowing just how genuine Theite was in his proclamation of his care and affection for his betrothed. They made a good pair.
“But, for now, I am glad of your companionship whilewe trudge our way through what promises to be a tedious night of small talk once more. Do these events never cease?”
“I’m glad someone at least enjoys my company.”
Leander knew that he would be expected to return to his rounds of speaking to the social elite soon. But, hopefully, by the time he did, their conversation would have moved on from the painfully dull phatic communication to something he could actually engage with. Or he’d be tipsy enough not to notice.
Snapping his fingers at a passing slave for another flute of sparkling wine, Leander exchanged his empty glass for a new one.
He was vaguely paying attention to the conversation, which was about the possibility of conscription into the armed forces of Vyrica.
Theite was speaking. “I think it should be a point of pride for young men and women to serve in the military. A rite of passage, almost, in the same way that people seem to expect that they will pursue higher education, they should have to serve time within our military services.”
Leander had not forgotten that Theite, like Venser, had joined Saeren’s military. Though Thiete had not made a career of it, resigning his commission when his older brother had passed away and returning to take on his responsibilities as scion to his family seat.
“It does encourage discipline as well as giving time for people to really make decisions on what they want to do with their lives than be expected to make a decision like that at such a young age,” a lady, Felicity, added.
People nodded, though Leander did have a counterpoint. “For the commoners, yes, but who in this circle can honestly say they had much choice about their life trajectory? We are all destined for service one way or another, whether it is court life, the church, or the military. Limited options and it depends on how many older siblings you have, surely.”
“I agree, Lord Leander…” Felicity inclined her head with a sad sort of smile on her face. “Though you seem to have escaped the third son’s role.”
Leander barked out a laugh. “The clergy isn’t really suitable for a disgraced demigod, wouldn’t you agree?”
Others joined in on the laughter.
“People will never agree to conscription,” Alwyn, another lordling, one who came from an exceptionally large family, said confidently. “They value their freedom too much.”
“Freedom hard won from our ancestors decades ago,” said Felicity as she nursed her own drink. There was a look on her face that made it clear she wasn’t keen on the previous speaker.
“A different time and, dare I say it, a just war. This is not. We are now harbouring a fugitive. A king-killer.”
“And who are we to question the king, Lord Alwyn?” Leander asked. He would defend Jarryn’s right to sanctuary to anyone who argued otherwise, and not just because he was responsible.
