“You said you were her uncle,” Sesto said. “On her mother’s side?”
“No,” Estelar said. He watched Elloven closely.
“Lady Elloven’s father is from the Easterlands though.”
“Aelloven’s father was not Wilder Hawthorne. Her father is my brother, Laxius.”
“Why are you calling her that?” Jesstin asked.
“It’s the name she was born with,” Estelar answered. “It doesn’t surprise me to learn it was changed, though I would have expected more of a deviation than a single letter.”
Elloven’s fidgeting got worse. Jesstin felt himself whisper, Are you all right, but the words didn’t leave his lips at all. He imagined his fingers traveling to her knotted ones, but he couldn’t move.
“And where is this Laxius?” Sesto asked.
“Resting,” Estelar said, but he blinked.
“Elloven would like to learn more about her magic.” Taven’s words sounded perfectly timed and rehearsed, like Estelar had been expecting them. “How to control it.”
Tansea tapped a finger against her lips. “What is your prominence, Aelloven?”
“My what?” Elloven stopped and sat straighter.
“Everyone with the blood of the Coventicular of the Seven has a prominence, a birthmark that reveals which of the seven bloodlines is strongest within you. Many of us have mixed blood, so prominence tells us which one has dominance.”
“I don’t know. How would I be able to tell?”
“She’s Duskmaw prominent. Chaos,” Taven answered. He didn’t meet Elloven’s shaken gaze. “The four-colored star on your outer thigh, Ellie.”
She flushed in embarrassment. “That’s...”
Jesstin simmered at how casually the pervert spoke of Elloven’s body in front of others.
Estelar unbuttoned his leather jerkin at the top. A carving of a bow, dark and brown, sat on his breastbone, just near his heart. “This is the birthmark of Rivenholde, the curia of death. Tansea, Ryquin, and my daughter, Lexsea, are also Rivenholde prominent. Malon is Rosedown, the curia of solace. Ask him to show you the back of his neck when the moon is full.”
Nothing they said rang any bells for Jesstin, nor, it seemed, Elloven. Taven, though, clearly knew far more than he’d let on. The man was drunk on his supremacy.
“And this woman who hasn’t eaten or spoken a word?” Sesto gestured toward the far end of the table.
Estelar seemed irritated again. “That would be my sister. Velanthe. You can ignore her, just as she ignores us.”
Jesstin’s head throbbed. Even with Taven’s healing, there was still a phantom pain that came and went. The chorus of the dead didn’t help.
“You can block them, necromancer.”
Jesstin glanced sideways, where Gennady had been earlier. It wasn’t Gennady though.
It was the son, Ryquin.
Jesstin narrowed his eyes. The man winked.
“It’s quite simple. Ask them to hush now, and you’ll hear their pleas later.”
Their pleas? What pleas? And why should he listen to a rude man who’d invaded his head without an invite?
Not a damn one of them could be trusted.
But if he couldn’t silence the noise, he wouldn’t survive a day.
