The man whom Dag had called Smythies grinned. "A double then?"
Echoes of laughter filled the tavern. The one closest to Smyths gave him a slap on his arm. Katla glared but pushed her elbows atop the table anyway.
"I didn't think you liked being called Kat," Dorian said to her as he leaned back in his chair.
A quietness settled. A few of the group stifled laughter beneath their hands. But Katla's head tilted in Dorian's direction. Her knife twirled, tip digging into the table beneath her finger.
Hagen cleared his throat. "I think I'll go help Smyths--"
"Sit," Katla said as he rose from the chair. Her hand had caught the back of his knee, and she didn't even look away from Dorian as she squeezed Hagen's leg.
Hagen cursed under his breath with a flutter of his eyes. "Dammit, woman," he uttered as he sat back in his seat. He leaned back in the chair, jaw tensing, and his predatory eyes danced over Katla's smug figure.
"You're certainly asking for it tonight," he grunted.
Her eyes flickered to his. "You enjoy it," she muttered before turning her attention back to Dorian. "Hagen, tell our little King what will happen if he dares call me that again."
"You might be favored by Mons, but you'll have a struggle with this one," Falke said to him in his usual fast speech.
Hagen adjusted himself and met Dorian's gaze. "She won't be aiming for your drink, that's for certain," he said. "She likes Dag. It's the only reason he's still alive. He only does it to get a reaction out of her."
"Bit of rough-housing with her usually does the trick," Dag winked.
"Drinks for Katla's adventure," Smyths announced as he reached them. The drinks were passed around, and the subject of Katla's unwanted nickname went arie. She told her story, with great detail and at least three side stories if he was counting correctly, before finally determining that the one line she wanted to tell them was actually just that someone had sent an arrow flying and cut the shear above Damien's ear.
Not having laughed so much in weeks, Dorian couldn't help himself from cackling at the story, and it hurt his chest. Corbin had doubled over, clasping Dorian on his shoulder. In the midst of it all, Reverie had appeared and sat on the arm of Dorian's chair. She stared around them as though they had all lost their minds.
"You know, my older sister would have liked you," Dorian said to Katla when he'd recovered himself.
A soft silence murmured over the table, and Hagen grabbed Dorian's shoulder as he sat up, but he didn't speak.
Katla's head tilted at him. "Was she anything like you?" she asked.
Dorian huffed under his breath. "I will not claim to be as strong and amazing as she was, but if you're referring to the getting herself into danger and laughing at it, then yes."
Katla's smile softened. "I think I would have liked her too," she said. "Besides, any woman enough to hold the Venari King's attention like that and be the one to unite all our kingdoms for a singular cause deserves to be put in the stars."
Her chair scratched the floor when she stood, and she raised her cup high in the air.
"To the High King and Queen," she roared.
An incredible rumble of both jeers and feet pedaling the floor filled the tavern, glasses raising in the air as Katla stood.
Dorian swallowed upon seeing the affirmation on all their faces. His heel began to tap on the floor, and he stifled the emotion of such a salutation. Reverie squeezed his knee, and Corbin grasped his shoulder.
Katla’s smile widened when she caught his gaze. "May we keep our promises to both."
Roars and bellows of the words came back, and every person in the tavern drank. A sharp breath took Dorian's lungs, and he quickly brushed the tear off his face before anyone saw it.
The room settled down then, and Katla returned to her seat, still smiling at Dorian.
"Does this mean I'm out of the last two trials?" Dorian dared to ask, knowing the response but asking anyway.
Katla twirled her knife, deviance dancing in her dark eyes. "Oh my dear, little King... These are purely for our entertainment now. Perhaps we'll raise the bets on the next one so your girl doesn't take all our money again."
"Something tells me the odds won't be as much in my pocket's favor this next time," Reverie grunted.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
