I jump to my feet, pulling out a chair. A handful of volunteers begin streaming out from the kitchen with platters and heavy pots, each table receiving a share as they spread out. Lyra slips into the seat beside mine, Sera taking the one beside Dorian without waiting for an invitation. Valcor looks up, his gaze catching on his daughter and remaining there.
She doesn’t look at him.
“Where’s Elspeth?” Darian asks. “Figured she’d be here too.”
Sera shrugs, reaching for the jug between us and sniffing it. Her face wrinkles in distaste. “Getting ready, most likely. She said she’d try to join us if she could, but she’s an overpacker. Whoever had the bright idea to create wine from gloam-root deserves to be offered up to the witches on a platter. This smells like shit.”
A beat of silence follows before she sucks in her cheeks. “Uh. Sorry, Lyra.”
“It tastes better than it smells,” Darian mutters. He drains his cup without wincing. “Down in one is best.”
It looks like he might have downed more than one. Sera’s eyes linger on him.
I lean into Lyra. She’s silent, observing the hall around us. Many eyes still slide her way, but most are focused on their own discussions. “Are you alright?”
A small nod. Her words are hesitant. “Where’s Duskbane?”
Ah. Her searching makes sense now. “In the kitchen.”
He backs out of the doors a few moments later, carrying the platters for our table. Lyra’s brows draw together. “He’sworkingin the kitchen?”
“We all work in the kitchen.” Sera attempts a sip of the gloam-root wine, wincing. “Neela can’t be everywhere at once.Tonight is just his turn—especially since he missed his shift this morning.”
Her voice raises in time for Kaelen to catch her words as he approaches. His lips lift in a lopsided smile as he places the first platter piled with sliced meat and vegetables closest to us, balancing the second in his hand for the other end where Nythen and Valcor sit. “Believe me when I say Neela is making me pay for it. I think she dirtied several pots twice just for me to wash them again.”
Lyra watches him with raised eyebrows, and he offers her the same look. “What is it, witch? Do you think I’m too proud to serve at table?”
“I didn’t say that.” She looks down the table. There’s an empty seat beside her. And another one beside that, though Maelira clearly isn't planning on attending. Lyra sounds awkward. “You’re not eating?”
He lifts the second platter. He still hasn’t looked at me. “When I’m done.”
As he moves away, Lyra leans into me. “You told him, didn’t you?”
“How did you know?” A scent rises from her damp hair as she shifts, and I breathe it in.
Kaelen’sscent. The mix is almost intoxicating.
“He’s not looking at you.” Her eyes remain on Kaelen as he offers the platter to Nythen and Valcor.
She doesn’t ask any more. Lyra remains silent as Kaelen takes the seat beside her, pulling his plate toward him and reaching for the food before checking our plates to make sure we’ve all taken some. He addresses his words to Lyra. “My mother wasn’t able to attend this evening. She sends her apologies.”
I haven’t seen her since the Council meeting where Lyra was first introduced, and even that was a surprise. Kaelen will fightuntil the end, but his mother gave up on Umbraxis a long time ago.
She dips her head in acknowledgment, but his attention is drawn away to Eldritch as he enters the hall. Our instructor takes the seat beside Kaelen at his gestured invite, groaning as he eyes the food. “My bones don’t like the cold as much as they used to.”
Sera grins. “There’s nothing wrong with your bones, old man. Perhaps it was the day spent in the ring. I saw more soldiers on their ass than anything else.”
He sighs. “We were practicing after the earlier session. They saw some moves they’re not familiar with. If you’re willing, Lyra, I wouldn’t mind showing them again tomorrow.”
I feel her surprise color the air at the casual address. “If I’m permitted.”
“It’s fine,” Kaelen says tightly. He doesn’t look her way, or mine, and the twisting in my stomach only grows.
But Eldritch isn’t done. “Who did you learn from? Even I didn’t recognize some of your tricks. I always thought the Lightbringers taught everyone the same way, but clearly that’s not the case.”
Nythen lifts his head from where he’s listening to Valcor talk. His eyes fix on her, and Valcor follows his gaze.
“Some of my early years were spent in the Solvandyr temple.” Lyra shrugs. “I learned what everyone else did, but not at the same time. Perhaps I adapted my movements. The instructors there were strict.”
