Tall, and thick around the chest and middle, he wore a lace ruff, a decorated doublet with slashed sleeves, rings on his fingers, a heavy chain around his neck. He gazed piercingly at me with grayish eyes, his thin mouth downturned, face craggy with his years.
I saw little of his son in him—the one I’d met on the causeway. The young Shearwater sat with his back to the great hearth, a single empty chair separating him from his father. Perhaps he took after his mother instead, of whom I could see no sign at the table. Hair now dry and swept back off his forehead, he’d changed for dinner into well-tailored ebony. He watched me, too: aloof, assessing. The candlelight sent shadows pooling beneath his cheekbones.
“Introductions, I think,” Rexim said with a slow smile. “I hardly think I need to tell you whoIam. But here is Vercha, my second eldest”—he gestured to a young woman sitting to his right—“Catua, my youngest. And Llir, my second son.”
The blond girl I’d seen, Catua, had slipped into a seat. She still had her book and was hiding it in her lap, racing to finish the page she was reading.
To her left, nearer Rexim, was the older daughter. Beautiful, with shining mahogany hair, Vercha studied me with a twist to her pert lips. She and her brother could almost have been twins: They had the same arch countenance, the same narrow, sculpted features.
“My eldest, Emment, is…otherwise engaged this evening.”
Rexim’s eyes flicked to the empty chair beside him and a slight awkwardness seemed to descend on the table. The seconds stretched out; then he added, “Do sit, my dear. Or would you prefer to stand there and eat?”
I blinked, coming back to myself. Vercha gave a tinkling laugh. With heavy legs, I sidled to a chair, and as I slid into it, Catua flashed me a reassuring smile.
Seeming to want to fill the silence that followed, Llir cleared his throat. “We met already, actually.”
“Oh?”
At Rexim’s curious gaze, Llir lifted a hand nonchalantly to the windows. “On the causeway this afternoon, when I was returning from town.” Nearby, servants hovered with carafes of wine, and at a glance from Rexim, they moved forward to decant them.
“Surely you didn’twalkhere?” Vercha said to me, leaning forward. Her bright gaze was unnerving; I was reminded faintly of Caerig. “Poor thing. Are your guards from that school really so negligent?”
“Of course not,” Llir said with a fleeting frown. “Though their choice of transport did turn out to be very poor.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Vercha said, her lips quirking. “There’s a story here. Don’t keep us waiting.”
I couldn’t flash Llir a desperate gaze without it being spotted. But Vercha—and Rexim, who lifted an expectant eyebrow—would not be put off. I glimpsed Llir’s lips working.
“Her cart broke down,” he said eventually. “Halfway along. That’s all.”
“Gods, how dire,” said Vercha eagerly.
“That’sall?” put in Catua, looking far more concerned than her sister. “You must have had a close call with the Shadow Tide, then?”
“Yes,” Llir said, “it did get a bit dicey, but you know how good Tigo is with the horses.”
Rexim gazed at me, his gray eyes roving my face, as the servants carted in great silver platters. There was something new, something almost dangerous, in his expression. “It sounds like we almost lost you before we had you. And what a blow that would have been, so soon after the last…”
My stomach clenched, but I kept my face neutral.
“But of course, a trulytalentedFloodmouth should have few issues on the causeway, even at archwater. And youarea talented Floodmouth, I am sure, for I specifically requested the best Arbenhaw had to offer.”
“I am, sir,” I replied, fighting to keep my voice steady.
He hadn’t technically asked a question—I’d probably broken Miss Haney’s first rule—but the way they were discussing me back and forth over the table had grown almost unbearable. And I was angry now, too. Had Llir brought up the incident on the causeway on purpose, or simply not realized how it would look?
“So youdospeak,” Rexim said, still assessing me closely. “I was beginning to worry they’d sent us a mute.” He took a deep sip of wine, patted his lips with a napkin. “Which would hardly be better than the specimen they sent last time.”
The puff of a laugh escaped Vercha’s nose.
I flinched as a deeper rage shot through me.She had a name,I wanted to hiss.
Catua, however, clinked her glass down firmly. She caught Llir’s gaze with a look I couldn’t decipher, but from the corner of my eye, he gave a narrow shake of his head.
“Well,” Rexim said, surveying the feast before him. “We shall see. I look forward to witnessing your work.” That small smile again, vaguely threatening.
My ears were ringing with what I’d assumed was anxiety, but now I realized it was the family’s laconite. Rexim had small beads of itmounted down his doublet. Of the rings he was wearing, several bore the blood-red stone. Llir had a pendant on a chain around his neck, Vercha a jewelled carcanet above her gown. At first I didn’t spot any on Catua; then I noticed her fiddling with her scarlet earrings, as though unused to their relentless buzzing.
