Chapter 8
Evie
I’d picked a black robe, cinched at the waist with a plain leather girdle. Formal enough for a magisters’ dinner, but simple enough not to draw notice. I had no wish to stand out tonight. I’d eat, smile when required, and slip back to my chambers to sleep off the day.
The great hall stretched from the audience hall to the far end of the castle, its high arches dividing the space like ribs of a mythical beast. Banners hung between them—the majestic golden eagle of Hauvia, the delicate white lily of Lutessia, and the fierce black boar of Bretannia, each catching the torchlight so they shimmered like jewels.
At the far end, near the great hearth, our table awaited. Servants had set it with candles and spring flowers—tulips and lilacs—their scent softening the smoke in the air. The oak chairs stood neatly in a row, polished and waiting. Seven in total, four on one side, three on the other. So, all magisters would be present tonight.
And, as always, I was too early.
Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait long. Selena arrived first, clad in a fitted blue robe trimmed with silver thread. The slit along herthigh flashed pale skin as she moved delicately, like everything she did. Maybe I should’ve worn something like that. Next to her, I looked like something the tailor had forgotten to finish.
Behind her came the last magister I had yet to meet, Elwin Alfaren, high elf and Magister of the Treasury. Lo had once joked that he didn’t just oversee the Crown’s gold, he was the Crown’s gold. His long, wavy blond hair gleamed like coin, his narrow amber eyes sharp and unreadable. When they landed on me, I couldn’t tell whether he approved or condemned, only that he’d already decided. His robe was black, lined with burgundy silk that whispered when he walked.
“Evie, early as always,” Selena said, voice smooth as honeyed wine. “Please have a seat here.” She gestured to the chair in the middle of three. “You’ll be right next to me.”
She said it like it was a game and we’d have fun playing it.
“And next to Kael,” she added lightly.
And that was when I froze.
I didn’t want to be anywhere near Kael. Not after the way he’d looked at me earlier, like I was something fragile he might break just to see how I’d shatter.
My stomach tightened. Gods, why couldn’t I have just sat at the far end, as far away as geometrically possible from these two? Now I had to be the center of attention.
Now I’d have to spend the whole dinner pretending not to notice every breath, every word, every time his sleeve brushed the tablecloth too close to mine.
Why couldn’t I have Lo by my side to help me get through this dinner?
Everyoneelse soon took their seats, each place chosen by Selena’s careful hand. Everyone except Kael, who left an empty chair next to me.
Across the table, the other magisters looked far less severe thanthey had during the assembly. They smiled, even laughed. Their talk drifted toward ordinary things, Isolde’s brother moving south to “chase the sun,” as she said, and understandably so. Jorren’s new ring he’d bought at the market and said to come from Sud, my hometown. He peered at me when he said it, likely guessing my origin.
They spoke of the revived Academy Ball. Elwin reminisced about the music, the conjured food, the chandelier of dancing lights hung high in the banquet hall. The last ball he could remember, and the mention alone brought a rare light to their faces. All fond memories, it seemed.
I’d met many elves during my academy years, some born in Vanhaui, others from foreign lands, all blessed with talent and confidence. Elwin seemed much the same.
And Lo had been right—the wine was flowing freely.
What was I doing during all this? Drinking, naturally.
When Kael finally entered, I had my lips on the silver chalice and nearly choked when I saw him. I set it down too quickly and tried to look composed.
He wore the same dark tunic as before, a dagger at his belt. He barely glanced my way, just long enough to burn me to ashes before turning to greet the others.
This was going to be a long night.
The wine, however, was excellent. A servant poured me another glass.
Dinner began with a salad of wild greens and sharp vinaigrette. I ate quietly, listening to Thalen boast about how the castle’s food put the barracks to shame.
Even the salads, apparently.
“So, Magister Corvo, you are not originally from Vanhaui, correct?” Jorren asked, fixing me with a look that felt like the start of a test.
I cleared my throat. “That’s right. I’m from Bravoure. Specifically, the city of Sud.”
