“Why is it so bright?” I asked.
He cut a quick glance at me that I could feel. I’d surprised him. But he sounded as relaxed as always when he said, “I have my assumptions.”
“Which are?”
His lips curved up in a smug smile for reasons I couldn’t identify, but that made me feel like the butt of a joke I didn’t understand.
Twenty-Seven
This time at dinner, I piled my plate high without hesitation. I’d never eaten this well at home, and if I might die, at least I’d die well-fed. I piled thick slices of steak, roasted potatoes, cheese, fruit, and pastries onto two plates.
I was carrying one in each hand as I passed by the tables where the first members of Clan Bismyth were assembling, shouting greetings to each other as if they’d been apart longer than since breakfast.
Despite my best intentions, I looked for Fieran. I searched every face, but it was unnecessary; I should’ve trusted my first impulse that he wasn’t at the table. Fieran’s presence in a room was unmistakable.
I didn’t see Maura, either. I glanced back, a sudden pulse of nervous energy alerting me that she might be behind me, but she wasn’t there. I continued toward the unclaimed section.
Dairen slid back his chair and stood to intercept me. He left a gap, carefully not infringing on my personal space. “Cara, hang on.”
I fixed him with a look, but came to a stop. His smile, open and charming, flickered just a little. Maybe he didn’t deserve that dirty glance, but it was hard to believe my mortal opinions mattered enough to dim his mood.
“Come sit with us,” he told me.
“Thank you, but I don’t belong with you.”
They might be trying to please Fieran, but no one could be happy to have lost Maura and gained me.
“You do. You’re tough enough to put up with us.”
Calling me tough seemed like a lie, but a kind one. I wasn’t sure those were better.
“Maybe I don’t want to.”
He had to know I didn’t choose to be here. But he looked almost hurt. Maybe all the shifters were fine actors.
“Rejected.” Another of the Bismyth men I didn’t know came and put his elbow on Dairen’s shoulder. “And here you usually charm the most cantankerous Fae. That Selkie?—”
“She’s just nervous.” Dairen was still aiming that smile my way, as if I were something feral he had to sweet talk. Now I didn’t regret the animosity I’d shown him one bit. “She knows most shifters are bad-mannered and worse-smelling, like you.”
I tried not to stare at the familiarity between them. That kind of friendship had always sent an ache through my chest, a twist of regret that I wasn’t built for the easy friendships that had filled our village.
Now half of Bismyth seemed to be taking one side or the other as Dairen and his friend poked at each other, adding their calls and boos to the cheerful chaos that floated up to the three-story rafters.
The banter and playfulness at the table was irresistible. Almost. But I had a long experience trying to sit at crowded tables and finding I was still lonely.
I headed past him. “I’m not one of your clan.”
Dairen broke away from the teasing in a heartbeat, matching my pace as I headed for the unclaimed recruit tables. “But you will be.”
Why was he trying to be so persuasive?
I scoffed. “Is Bismyth going to claim me?”
“Of course.” He looked perplexed. “Come sit with us. We want you here.”
He looked so friendly and expectant that I almost caved. “Thank you, Dairen. But I don’t belong with you all.”
Amazingly, he looked hurt, as if the shifters really did desire my company. “Is this about Maura?”
