Rikard made a noise of disapproval. “I did not and would not.”
“You ought to enjoy the privileges of your office. Fallen gods, there are few.”
“I might for official business, but this is far from that.”
Lucan uncorked the first jug and inhaled, his eyes closing with rapture. “Clover honey. Black cherry. A finish like a sunrise over the sea. This is wasted on official business, Rikard. This is a vintage for friends.”
“Hear, hear,” Roul said, collecting a few tankards to fill even as Cléa clucked her tongue in disapproval.
“We’re going to a gathering with the Zenith in an hour, and you haven’t oiled your horns,” she reminded him, prying the tankards from his fingers. “You don’t have time to soak your head in mead.”
He grumbled and followed her to their chamber just as Carlijn appeared from hers with her hair freshly arranged and cheeks freshly pinched. “Did I hear the word mead? Are we drinking tonight? Tell me we are.”
“We are drinking on the balcony,” Lucan announced grandly. “Under the stars, like civilized creatures.”
Rikard snorted.
“No need to join us if you lack good taste. You can keep Hanna company in the corner.” Lucan was treading very close to disrespect, speaking of his mate in that tone.
He glanced over at her to see if she’d taken offense, but it seemed she hadn’t overheard. Hannalinde sat in an alcove where she stitched by lamplight, occasionally bracing one hand against the small of her back with a wince. The hatchling was growingso large that it strained her small human form. She wore a rose-colored shawl over her dress, and her pale hair hung loose over one shoulder.
She spotted him staring at her and lifted her nearly invisible brows. “What is it?”
“Lucan is staging a party on our balcony, and we have been uninvited.”
Hanna’s mouth twisted wryly. “It isn’t much of a party, then, with only one guest.”
“I only uninvitedhim,” Lucan corrected as he re-entered to ferry bread and cheese and smoked fish out to the balcony, making the most of Rikard’s hospitality. “Come sit with us. Bastien said he would stop by later. Friends, some mead, and moonlight…what more can you ask for?”
“You could ask for some sense,” a large, green moth near Hanna’s lamp wheezed. Lucan snapped in its direction, surprising Hanna so she jumped and stuck her finger with her needle. Tears formed in her eyes as she popped her finger in her mouth.
“I wasn’t snapping atyou,” Lucan said sheepishly. “I was trying for the moth.”
“Out,” Rikard growled, pointing to the balcony. He rushed to Hanna’s side, dodging Lucan’s hasty exit. “Are you all right?” He tugged her finger from her mouth, peering closely at the spot where she was injured. It was small but deep, judging from the amount of red blood welling to the surface.
Hanna blinked back her tears. “It’s just a prick, nothing to worry about. I’ve done it more times than I can count. There’s a little roll of clean linen in my sewing basket if you don’t mind fetching it for me.”
Rikard retrieved it and knelt beside her to wrap her finger. “I’m sorry you were hurt. Lucan is an idiot who listens too much to the moths.”
“I wish I could hear them. I always wonder what they’re saying.”
“Well, you shouldn’t. They’re incredibly stupid and usually rude.”
Hanna giggled, which made something in his chest flip. “You jest. Everyone in the Tower listens to the moths. They must have something valuable to tell.”
“I’ll repeat everything they say, and you’ll quickly change your mind.”
She sat forward, a spark in her eyes. “Would you? I’d like that. What did the green one say to Lucan?”
He smirked. “It was questioning his intelligence.”
She giggled again gleefully, her whole face lighting up to be let in on the joke. What a change from the somber, terrified woman who’d begged for his help in the Nadir’s office.
He extended a hand to her. “Perhaps we should attend Lucan’s little party after all.”
“Don’t you have to go to work?” She put her hand in his and let him pull her to standing.
“I find myself quite compelled by the company to remain.”
