Lilith made no mention ofthatduring our lessons.
Turning away before his conversation partner takes notice, I find a pair of yellow eyes lingering upon me seated near the dais.
Eloric.
It’s hard to forget that piercing shade of yellow set in a perpetually scrutinizing stare. I’ve only met one other creaturewith the same color eyes, and I’m hard pressed to believe the truthteller is the progeny of ashadow hag.
Though, truth be told, it would explain his abrasive demeanor.
Pushing the annoying thought of Eloric from my mind, my heart sinks with the possibility of losing Liran to Ganus. If Liran sides with Ganus in this, Rowen might not survive today.
Neither will Tanila.
Shit.
Veering left, we step off the runner and onto the marble floor as we approach Darin. Beyond him, standing along the wall in a line of two others in suits of armor, stands Cyran. He surveys the room with acute awareness, his hand at the ready upon the pommel of the sword.
As we stop before Darin, Rowen approaches and Riordan sweeps past, joining Cyran.
“Fenryn, Vestaris, Alaryc,” Rowen says in a low, but warm greeting. “Starting with a strong message, are we?” A hint of amusement gleams in his dark brown eyes.
“Without Ryc and Ves they have nothing,” Fenryn replies, his voice hushed. “I’m making sure they understand that.”
Chuckling, Rowen turns to me. “Welcome to Nyluma, Vestaris. I apologize your visit couldn’t have been under more pleasant circumstances.”
“When didshereturn, Alaryc?” a deep male voice calls from the other side of the room.
The pointed tone of the question leaves no mistake in understanding he’s referring to me. Keeping my jaw firmly clamped shut, else my tongue land me in a dispute guaranteed to escalate, I keep my eyes focused on Ryc.
Both Rowen and Fenryn glance over their shoulders.
Ignoring the question, Ryc says, “We’ll speak after, Darin.”
Darin nods. “Well enough,” he replies, his tone one of understanding.
Without another word, Ryc moves down the line of chairs and I sweep along with him.
“Not going to answer?” the voice calls again and I resist the urge to seek the source.
Again, Ryc pays the demanding king no heed.
Instead, he gestures to my seat.
Fenryn takes the seat closest to mine in the pair beside ours, and Rowen seats himself in the seat closest to Ryc’s. As we seat ourselves, I’m met with several fierce stares from across the room. A pair of bright yellow eyes watches, set in a face filled with scrutiny as the Sovereign King lowers himself into his seat.
It’s a small respite not to be seated across from Ganus. But instead I’m faced with Eloric.
I’ll have to keep my gaze from venturing right. A simple enough task, I should be fine. No direct glances, periphery only. Ryc places a hand over mine on the armrest of my chair, and gives it a gentle squeeze.
Reassurance.
This can be done.
Wecan do this.
I admit, avoiding Ganus’ gaze will be easier thanks to Eloric’s intriguing wardrobe choice. Dressed in an eye-catching tailored jacket in a bright goldenrod with vivid green embroidery at the collar and cuff, I’m reminded of a flower.
An obnoxiously vocal flower.
