Page 52 of Bitten By the Basilisk

Silas

Silas allowed himself a brief moment to savor Alice’s reply—a kiss emoji—before returning his phone to his pocket. Having made his way back to the delivery truck from where he’d taken the photo, he approached a dolly already stacked with boxes and wheeled it into the ruins.

While the manor house at Seacliff did still have its roof, it wasn’t stable enough to safely host a gathering. The rest of the site’s former buildings were fully open to the sky, their stone walls partly covered by vegetation.

Due to the number of guests and the space needed to accommodate their tails, the banquet was spread across several areas of the castle complex—the courtyard in front of the manor house, nearer to the gatehouse, and the open spaces of the rear bailey, including the former great hall. However, the building closest to the seaside cliff’s edge had partly fallen into the water many years ago and would be blocked off during the banquet.

Much of the morning had been spent unloading furnishings and equipment from a chain of delivery trucks. The one currently parked as close as possible to the venue was the seventh and final load, not counting a much later delivery of enough victuals to feed two hundred serpent-folk, or perhaps four hundred very hungry humans.

The amount of food slated to arrive would be excessive in order to avoid the risk of running out. If that happened, he as the host Basilisk would be seen as either stingy or ill-prepared.

Currently, several contractors and a dozen volunteers from the nest were busy in the rear bailey, setting up fire baskets, rows of tables, including one where the caterer would arrange a smorgasbord of finger foods ahead of the banquet’s plated service, and a temporary pergola for the mermaid harpist who would fill the ruins with music.

The front courtyard would largely serve as a reception area, with a privacy tent for guests to remove enough clothing to shift forms, and a second tent where a pair of fae attendants would check any personal items.

For their power needs, a small generator and its backup had been installed far enough from the site to put their racket out of earshot. But instead of using mundane lighting sources, they had arranged for a local witch to magically illuminate the venue with floating candles.

Once the major equipment was in place, the setup crew would turn to decorating. Voile drapes would hang between the ruin walls to soften the lack of a ceiling. Full place settings would cover the dining tables. Festoons of flowers would cover every other available surface. The former great hall would be lined with plush rugs, wall tapestries, and velvet cushions, offering a space for more intimate conversations.

Before yesterday, Silas had dreaded rather than anticipated tonight’s banquet, despite planning it, along with his staff, as meticulously as if it were a strategy for entering a new sales market.

Now he couldn’t wait for the space to be ready, for night to fall, and to see Alice bathed in candlelight.

The thought made him realize he’d forgotten to prepare certain accessories for his special guest, other than shoes and a wrap to keep her warm. Once he reached the inner bailey and unloaded the dolly, he took out his phone to contact his lieutenants. As he then headed back to the gatehouse, pulling the empty dolly behind him, he dictated a quick text.

“I need one of you to pull something from the vault.”

By the time he reached the delivery truck, now nearly empty, Bruno had volunteered. Silas told him what he wanted, and Bruno confirmed.

Silas then sent another text to Alice.

One more thing…don’t worry about jewelry. I’ll adorn you personally.

As he was putting his phone away, the rumble of tires rolling on cobblestone snared his attention. A familiar car was approaching, its occupant’s arrival handily deflating his mood.

Once the vehicle was parked, blocking in the delivery truck, the driver got out to open the back door, from which Gabriel Stone emerged wearing his usual—a black wool trench coat, a three-piece suit, and a sour expression.

Silas met him in front of the delivery truck. “Setup is going well so far,” he reported. “The tents are up ahead of schedule, and we’ve been careful not to disturb the site beyond some sweeping.”

“Your lieutenants should be the ones overseeing things here. You should be greeting our guests as they arrive,” his father admonished. “Basilisk William noted your absence. The New York nest has brought three new candidates—of age this time—whom you should’ve been there to meet. They were rather disappointed.”

Silas sighed. While he didn’t doubt the debutantes had expressed disappointment, he questioned whether it had been sincere. Nevertheless, his stomach tightened with shame.

Since the day Silas had been born, the plan had been for him to succeed his father as both Basilisk and CEO of Stone Mining Group, though his father seemed ill-inclined to retire from his role at the company any time soon.

Preparing Silas for those roles had been Gabriel’s priority over everything else, including Silas’s own wants and needs, and for decades, his father’s approval had been Silas’s only source of parental affection, his mother having given over the majority of his upbringing to Gabriel and his staff.

“I will express my regrets to them tonight,” Silas said. “We’ve never held an event here, so I want to be present in case there are any issues.”

“Nic and Bruno will handle things here,” his father said. “You will return to the Nest with me, hopefully before any more guests arrive. Understood?”

Silas bristled at his father’s reproach but refused to allow even a hint of frustration into his voice. “I can welcome everyone at tonight’s banquet just as well. I do not need to act as concierge.”

Father’s face hardened. “Offering welcome to any who have entered our territory peacefully is a Basilisk’s duty. You not receiving our guests is an affront, one you mustn’t repeat.”

Silas wanted to argue. Only Father had ever brooded about how fawningly other nests received him, as though his visits were a privilege. However, refusing to concede wasn’t worth putting his father into an even fouler mood, and the most essential components of tonight’s event had already been successfully installed.

“Very well,” he stiffly muttered.