A servant escorted me to my seat, where I sat across from Thaddeus. Caius was at the head of the table to my right, while the other end remained vacant.
Fiora’s elegant presence swept in next to me, taking the empty seat between Caius and me. A surge of elation caught me off guard, and I pulled her into an embrace; she didn’t hesitate before hugging me back.
I released her, still holding her hands, and asked, “How are you?”
“I should be the one inquiring after your well-being, my dear. It has been quite a journey for you, has it not?” Her soothing voice washed over me. In a different world, we could be friends. Sadly, that wasn’t our reality. I shoved the thought down, unwilling to relinquish any sliver of comfort this place offered, no matter how ephemeral.
Smiling at her while we took out seats, I said, “It’s been eventful, to say the least.”
She squeezed my hand and leaned in closer. “It appears it was a good thing I kept that glamor on you,” she said with a knowing grin.
Color painted my cheeks at the memory of being feasted on—I bit it down after I found Thaddeus’ gaze and communicated a silent promise. His eyes smoldered in response.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” I said sweetly, reaching for a glass of water.
Her laugh lit up the room, and I couldn’t help but grin.
As Fiora got settled and shifted her attention to Caius, a gentlepull from behind tugged at my awareness. Twisting slightly, my eyes landed on Endymion as he approached. The raw magnetism of his presence was as startling as it had been during our first encounter, and for a moment, he stole my breath. I forced my attention away, focusing on the table at large, noting there were thirteen of us. Some superstitious part of me wondered if it was a bad omen.
A soft clinking came from my right, and I turned to find Caius with a raised glass, readying himself to give a toast.
The room fell silent, and he looked around the table.
“Thank you for joining in this solstice feast. It’s an honor to share the Mother’s bounty with old friends and new. May our kinship be as bountiful as this feast.”
We raised our glasses and drank.
Everyone reached for a platter, serving themselves before passing it on. Merriment and conversation ensued, and I was surprised at the informality of it all, the intimacy, but also pleased by it. Somehow, it made us one instead of many.
Before serving myself, I took inventory of who was in attendance. Caius, presiding at the head, was flanked by Fiora and Myron. Directly across from me was Thaddeus, stationed between Myron and Wymond. I flashed him a wry,better you than megrin, and a hint of amusement tugged at his lips.
Tarrin was on the other side of Wymond, and to his right sat a male I didn’t recognize. Judging from the seating layout, those of higher rank appeared to be seated across from me, and given his features, the stranger likely belonged to the Autumn Court. Knowing Endymion was Wymond’s second, it was curious that he hadn’t been seated there instead. Glancing to my left, I was startled to find Endymion seated right beside me. He must’ve settled in during Caius’ toast.
The fae kitty-corner from me was Artton, one of the males who’d valenned us to the Summer Court. His counterpart, Sidrick, sat opposite him. That just left Nevander on the other side of Endymion and another male who could have also been from the Autumn Court—meaning there were four of them from there, and I wondered why they were overrepresented in comparison.
Turning my attention to the food, I found myself at a loss, only recognizing some garnishing fruits. A knot formed in my stomach, afraid that my ignorance could give me away. If I had grown up with Thaddeus, as we claimed, would this food be familiar? My companions piled their plates with ease, unfazed by the array of dishes—either accustomed to the exotic fare or indifferent to it. Given their age, it seemed likely there was little they hadn’t experienced before.
Gods, I was so naive. How could I possibly think I belonged here? And what gave me the bravado to speak to, let alone dismiss myself from, Wymond the way I had? Tarrin was right when he’d said that onlyIcould pull such a stunt—because only I was stupid enough to be insolent.
“Nyleeria?” a voice questioned to my left.
“Sorry?” I said, facing Endymion.
“I asked if I could offer you a dish,” he repeated.
“Oh.” I looked at the table, and overwhelm crept in.
Endymion leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “You’ve never eaten this type of food before, have you?” My expression must have conveyed the truth, as he offered me a kind smile, and said, “I remember my first time in the Summer Court. The food is vastly different from the Autumn Court. Our food is more”—he held on to the word—“simple.”
“Mine too.”
“Here, I’ll dish out small bits of my favorites for you to try.” He sounded excited, as if sharing something new was a rare occurrence. Then again, with immortality, I supposed it would be—Thaddeus had even claimed as much.
Endymion reached for a dish, and I noticed Thaddeus’ jaw tighten as he monitored Endymion’s every move.
“This one,” Endymion explained, pulling my attention back to him, “is one of my favorites. It’s called ceviche, and I swear that the gods themselves created it.”
I warmed at the look of anticipation he gave me, wanting to know my verdict.
