I barely had time to react before he was a blur of sticky fingers and shrieking laughter, his tiny feet thundering across the stone floor.
“Oh gods,” I muttered.
“A warrior spirit,” Fenric declared, tilting his chin at Eryx as he nearly barrelled into a chair. “Fearless and swift.” He looked far too pleased to be at the centre of this tiny disaster.
Mireth returned her full attention back to Fenric with furrowed brows and an expression of utmost importance. “Yeah, but where’s your horse?”
“My… horse?” Fenric blinked.
“Glory. The big white one.”
Varyth made another coughing sound, and I had the distinct suspicion he was seconds away from disintegrating.
To his credit, Fenric took it in stride. He looked down at Mireth and said with deadpan seriousness, “I had to leave Glory behind. She’s currently indisposed.”
“Is she okay?”
“Only the best stables for a warhorse of her calibre.”
“That’s good. She’ll need her rest if you’re gonna keep fighting the monsters.”
Fenric grinned down at her. “Exactly.”
“Well, Mireth.” I dragged a hand down my face. “You’ve certainly made some important friends.”
Mireth jabbed a finger toward Varyth like she was delivering a final verdict. “Varyth is very lucky to have you, Fenric.”
“Indeed, Mireth. Very lucky, indeed.” Varyth inclined his head in Fenric’s direction.
A smirk lit Fenric’s face as he dipped his head. “I do try to be useful.”
“Oh! Oh!” Still buzzing with excitement, Mireth turned back to Fenric. “Can you tell me about the time you helped your best friend stop wetting the bed?”
The entire room went silent.
And then, Varyth collapsed.
Not figuratively. Literally.
The High Lord folded in half, one hand bracing against the edge of the table as his body shook with a violent, ill contained fit of laughter. His other covered his face, his shoulders heaving as muffled, wheezing sounds escaped him.
Across from him, Darian threw his head back and roared. The sound bounced off the walls as he clutched his ribs, gasping for breath. Lira gave up entirely and let out a giggle into her sleeve.
Shaelith, now leaning against the far wall, arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “Well,” she drawled. “This just became the most interesting meal I’ve had in months.”
I didn’t dare even glimpse at Varyth. He was gone. There was no saving him. No recovering. He was seconds away from sliding out of his chair and onto the floor.
Fenric, meanwhile, took the question with all the solemnity of a priest conducting a funeral.
He met Mireth’s earnest gaze head-on. “Ah,” he murmured. “That was a most delicate situation.”
“It sounded really hard.”
Fenric sighed, the sound steeped in the weight of imagined hardship, as if reminiscing about a war he had barely survived. “Indeed. There were many late nights. Much strategising. Trial and error.”
Varyth let out another choked, gasping wheeze.
Darian slammed his fist against the table, rattling the plates and glasses, howling.
