Again, I squeeze Alexus’s hand. When he looks at me, I form the question on my face.
“She can see through glamours,” he says softly. “Quite handy to have around.”
As everyone cautiously drops their glamours and packs and finds a place to rest, Yaz and Zahira head toward the corridor that must lead to the kitchen. At the same time, Joran swaggers into the room, nearly colliding with Zahira.
“Beautiful home,” he says to both women. “Fit for the gods.”
Zahira clasps her hands together and inclines her head. “Thank you, but somehow I doubt Starworth is any comparison to Eridan’s luxurious palaces of marble and gold.”
Joran skims an appreciative look over the room. “I think we’d be surprised to learn what some of the gods considered luxury. Especially Neri. Though I’m beginning to think we could always just ask him.”
Alexus, paused with me by the bookshelves, turns a dark look on the Icelander, but before he can say or do anything, Nephele interrupts.
“Uhm, about that food and wine.” She steps forward, forcing a smile. Her body is tight as a drum, as though she’s as worried as the rest of us that if Joran is allowed to talk for too long, he might insult our hosts. “I can help in the kitchen,” she says. “Three pairs of hands are better than two.”
Joran eyes my sister, obviously aware of what she’s doing. His irises all but glow with the fire of a welcomed challenge, the way they always do lately when Nephele is abrasive towards him, as though he likes the rub. “I can help too,” he says. “Four pairs of hands are better than three. Even if I must dodge Nephele’s icy eye daggers.”
My sister fists her hands, the muscle in her jaw ticking. “Or real ones,” she hisses.
Yaz sputters a laugh. “I can see that you two are a ball of fun. I’m surprised you made it here in one piece, Joran.”
“No more surprised than me,” Nephele says.
Zahira looks at Alexus, her eyes widening a fraction before she turns back to Nephele and Joran and gestures to the corridor. “Come. I’m sure Yaz and I can use you both. Just keep your hands off the knives.”
The moment passes as Yaz and Zahira lead my sister and Joran from the room. With the tension gone, everyone relaxes, some settling into their seats, some taking in the home’s beauty.
Alexus sits on the edge of an elegant desk, strips off his pack and mine, and pulls me onto his knee. It’s such a comfortable action, a closeness I desperately need, yet it takes a moment to relax against him. It’s been nearly two months since the night of the attack, but we haven’t had the chance to be open with our affections, or to share them with each other these last weeks at all.
Hel looks us over and bites back a smile, then walks to the windows near the hearth that I now realize are doors. Beyond, as far as the outdoor torchlight reaches, I can make out a veranda and pots of vibrantly colored flowers.
“Damn the gods, Alexus,” Hel says. “You chose a cold castle over this?”
“I did,” he answers, squeezing my hip. “The valley and the wood always felt more like home, though I do love it here.”
Rhonin crosses the room to stand with Hel, hands stuffed in his trouser pockets. He brushes a shoulder against hers. “Feel like a stroll along the beach? I’d love to show you the water.”
Hel’s dark eyes light up. “I would love that.” She turns to Alexus. “Is it all right, you think? Safe?”
Alexus nods toward the veranda. “Yes, it’s private. Go out the doors, take the stairs to the left. There’s a gate that leads to a secluded cove. Yaz usually has a few chairs down there.” He smiles. “Have fun, you two. Careful of the tides.”
Bouncing on her toes, Hel drags Rhonin outside. The smile on that boy’s face is so bright it could give the moon a challenge. It warms my heart to see how much he cares for Hel, even if she hasn’t succumbed to his charm quite yet.
Several minutes later, Mari strolls into the room, fidgeting with the sash of her robe. Her eyes are downcast. “The chambers are ready, my lord. Baths too. I can show everyone their accommodations, even those who are still at the stables.”
I’m amazed how quickly she made that happen.
“Your efforts are much appreciated,” Alexus says. “Especially at this hour.”
“Yes, thank you, Mari,” Zahira says as she and Joran enter the room. They carry silver platters of food while Nephele and Yaz follow, cradling several bottles of wine in each of their arms. The platters are placed on two marble tables positioned before the settees where members of our group have perched their tired bums. Fruits, cheeses, and salted fish fill two platters, portions arranged on individual white linens made for carrying, while an array of breads fill a third tray.
“Dig in,” Yaz says. “And we’ll show you to your rooms.”
Any hesitation preceding the moment vanishes. Everyone swoops in, Alexus and I included, our stomachs far too empty for etiquette. Joran is the only one who holds back.
Alexus reaches into the crowd gathered over the tables and procures a bottle of wine in one hand, while the other hand plucks a bundled linen of food. He hands me both before grabbing our heavy packs and slinging them onto his body.
“I’ll talk to you two in a while if that’s all right,” he says to Zahira and Yaz. “For now, I’d like to get Raina settled in the lighthouse and get cleaned up.”
