His fingers trembled as he reached for a bottle. That sight alone had his better nature kicking in. He grabbed a glass mug instead, then filled it with ale.
A quick sip of the frothy, golden liquid settled his nerves, and he turned to find Erik caressing the tail of a frozen fox at Arran’s trophy wall.
“I can’t decide whether I find all this fascinating or horrific,” Erik murmured. Cael couldn’t tell if he was talking about the fox or the evening ahead.
“Can’t it be both?” Cael shrugged, raising his mug again. The ale was bitter, but had a tart, refreshing finish. And went down far too easily. He’d have to watch himself. “Where’s the rest of our illustrious family?”
Erik and their mother, Petra, were the only two Zephyruses for whom Cael’s feelings were wholly uncomplicated. The rest of his familial bonds were barbed. Viktor, his oldest brother who had far too much in common with their father, had been harsh and cruel during childhood. And Tomas, the second oldest, had only tolerated Cael for a few years before settling into an alliance with Viktor.
His two older brothers had mocked him mercilessly. Cael cried too much, was too moody, was too much of a drain. It used to sting. Part of the reason he’d gone to the colonies in the first place was to prove them wrong. He used to dream of returning as a Vasilikan, more powerful and important and untouchable than they would ever be.
Standing here now, with his lone wing tucked against his back, he realized how foolish that plan had been. He’d become exactly what they’d always claimed.
Useless.
He buried that thought beneath another hearty gulp of ale.
“They’re down in the foyer, awaiting our guests.” Erik turned away from the gallery wall.
“Why aren’t you down there with them?”
“Outcasts aren’t worthy of the first impression.” Erik’s brown eyes flashed with something akin to hurt—pain Cael recognized. Was it selfish of Cael to have left Erik here to suffer their father and older brothers alone?
When Cael had first arrived in the colonies, he’d befriended Tristan because a part of him hoped that Tristan’s openness and joviality would rub off on him. But the effects never took. And though Cael didn’twantto end up like his father—someone whorelished in and profited from the world’s cruelty—sometimes he felt it was inevitable. A poison in the Zephyrus family blood that Cael was helpless to counteract.
He sipped his ale and surveyed his younger brother. That warm, open expression that was so much more Petra than Arran. Erik was the baby, after all. Maybe Caelhaddone the right thing by leaving and gifting Erik the full might of their mother’s abundant affection. He’d often wondered why Erik hadn’t left home yet. Perhaps he’d been reluctant to leave Mother alone with these cold, unfeeling Zephyrus males. Perhaps Cael should thank him for that.
The large wooden doors creaked open to reveal his father’s deep, grinding voice. “And here are my other two sons.”
Arran was accompanied by a paunchy Beastrunner of middling height with bushy black hair and a matching beard. The male’s stomach preceded him into the room.
“Cael, Erik, this is Phidion Laskaris,” Arran announced.
Laskaris extended a hairy-knuckled hand, his beady eyes crawling over Cael’s sole wing.
Cael squeezed Laskaris’s hand harder than necessary, inspiring a grunt of discomfort. “Pleasure to meet you, Master Laskaris. Welcome to Stoneridge.”
Arran offered Cael an approving nod then turned to Erik, who executed a deep bow and pressed his forehead to Laskaris’s proffered hand.
“Master Laskaris, your reputation precedes you. We are honored to have such an icon of continental commerce grace our humble estate.” Erik delivered the speech to the ground and Cael swore he saw his brother’s lips quirk faintly upward.
Sothisis how Erik had survived Stoneridge all these years—thinly-veiled sarcasm.
Laskaris didn’t recognize the jab, his chest swelling with pride as Arran pulled Erik to standing with a look promising death.
Cael bit his lip to keep from laughing.
Petra bustled into the room, a Fae female on each arm. The female on her left was older—Laskaris’s wife, no doubt. A beautiful, curvaceous Beastrunner with dark waves and glowing cheeks. She and Petra were laughing together.
The tall, lithe female on Petra’s other arm wore a lilac dress that accentuated her creamy complexion. She smoothed back braided bronze hair as she aimed a shy smile at Cael.
“Here is my treasure,” Laskaris said, his face beaming with pride. Cael’s envy spiked—Arran had certainly never looked athimthat way. Laskaris grasped his daughter’s delicate hand between his mitts, then walked her over to Cael. “Master Zephyrus?—”
“Just Cael is fine.”
“—allow me to introduce my daughter, Elodie.” Laskaris flashed him an indulgent smile. “She’s been dying to meet you. Speculated about you the whole way here. Practically talked our ears off.”
Elodie smacked her father’s hand, ducking her head and releasing a breathy, embarrassed laugh before raising hazel eyes to meet Cael’s. They were just as lovely as the rest of her.
