“Really, letting a blind man chase after you alone?” The scars that covered half his face pulled on his grin, making it crooked.
“Oh, you poor dear.” Noelle hooked her elbow with his. “Here, let me help you.”
“Thank you, fair maiden.”
“Neither fair, nor a maiden.” Noelle smirked. Ducot didn’t seem to know how to respond to that. Eira took his silence as an opportunity.
“What was it you wanted to talk about?” She’d been burning up wondering the past hour.
“Not out here. If I may come in?”
“Of course.” Noelle spoke for all of them as she opened the door.
A wall of incense and perfume barreled out at them, smelling of nighttime flowers and calm. Lights had been suspended down the center of the hall, bulbs with bioluminescent filling casting the walls and ceiling in a cool, blue glow. A plush runner led them down the hall and into the common room, which had been completely transformed. Gone were the basic benches and table. In their place was a polished dining set for six on the left-hand side of the room. On the right was still the sofa, but now it was covered in furs, blankets, and pillows.
“We even have comfortable chairs outside!” Alyss said, peering out the back door.
“I don’t care about outside; upstairs is what really matters.” Noelle took the steps two at a time.
“I assume it’s all marvelous?” Ducot asked Eira. “Even if I can sense the rough outlines of things with my magic, I can’t ascertain exact material or shape. All I can really tell is that it smells better than our house.”
She laughed softly. “It’s a significant improvement. Lots of silk tapestries in reds and golds.”
“Red and gold means nothing to me.” He had a slight grin.
“Oh right.” Eira flushed with embarrassment. Ducot had told her he’d been born almost completely blind; it hadn’t been as a result of his scars. “I’m sorry, I—”
“No reason to be flustered. Happens all the time.” He patted her shoulder. “I’m not sad about missing out on something I’ve never known. But, more importantly…think I can personally see if she has that duvet?” Ducot then added, with a waggle of the glowing dots on his brows, “I have a vested interest inthat.”
“I’m rolling my eyes at you,” Eira said dryly.
“Thanks for the play-by-play.” He chuckled. “Though I can hear it in your voice when you do.”
They followed Alyss and Noelle to their second floor. There were three rooms upstairs for the women of the group—Alyss had even etched their names onto the doors. Cullen’s room was downstairs and off to the side of the entry. Keeping him good and separate was no doubt by design.
Noelle was in the process of excitedly going on about the four new pillows she had acquired, along with the silken rug and the armoire for her clothes.
“It’s all a bit more cramped with the extra stuff,” Alyss murmured.
“Cramped withcomfort,” Noelle said dreamily. “These trials won’t be so bad now.”
Alyss laughed. “You’re so easy to please.”
“I’m banking my success on that.” Ducot leaned against the back wall of the hall. Noelle snorted at him but didn’t object. Eira wondered if he was actually oblivious to Noelle’s genuine, budding affections, or just pretending to be so by hiding it under jokes and play. She’d bet on the latter. Ducot had always been keenly aware of what was going on around him. His expressionturned serious. “Now that we’ve investigated your pillows, we should talk, Eira.”
“Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of Alyss and Noelle.” Eira shifted her weight, standing a bit more at attention. Ducot seemed hesitant. “I’ll tell them everything you say later anyway. So we might as well not even bother with the farce and include them from the start.”
“Are you making your own Court of Shadows?” The glowing dots on his forehead arched.
“Something like that.”
“Very well.”
Eira had been expecting more pushback from Ducot and was pleased it wasn’t there. “So what is it?”
“The Court—well, what remains of it—is actively trying to weed out the Pillars here at the tournament.”
“The Pillars are confirmed to be here, then?” Alyss asked softly. Eira’s sweet friend, ever the optimist, no doubt still held onto the belief that the worst might not happen.
