Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
He leaves me standing on the veranda, my thoughts racing more rapidly than Tairn could ever fly. The triumvirate is coming to dinner. They’ll test us tonight. They sent the kids away.
Do they think we’re dangerous? Or are they?
We need an edge. What would Rhi or Brennan do?
Shit. What did I bring with me? Brennan sent the med kit—
Brennan sent the med kit.
I need Mira.
“Andarna, when those boys leave the house, I need you to follow as invisibly as you can,” I say down the bond.
“Are we scheming? I do enjoy scheming.”
“We’re planning.”
Two hours later, I hold the precious glass vial with both hands as Mira and I head downstairs. Now is not the time to be clumsy. We quickly find Talia in the dining room, discussing dinner with a spindly man in a pale green apron who scrubs at his nails with a blue-edged towel.
“Violet?” Hope lights her eyes, and she dismisses the man before walking our way. “Did you ask him?” Her gaze darts toward Mira.
My sister folds her arms and studies the table.
“He said dinner sounds great,” I tell Talia. It’s not exactly a lie. My hands twist around the glass, shielding its contents from view. “The rest will be flying, but six of us can make it. And I thought this might serve as a peace offering between us, and maybe…” I press my lips in a line and look down at the vial.
“Stop debating and just give it to her,” Mira orders with an exasperated sigh. “My sister is too polite to suggest that it might help smooth the waters and make tonight a little less awkward for those involved. Remind Xaden of home and all that.”
Talia lifts her brows, and I hand over the vial and its dehydrated, light-green leaves. She takes the gift with a bewildered smile. “Is this…”
“Dried arinmint,” I reply.
Gods bless Brennan.
The god of wisdom is the trickiest to placate. Hedeon seems to only answer those who do not pray to him.
—Major Rorilee’s Guide to Appeasing the Gods, Second Edition
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The dining room is just as monochromatic as the rest of the house, and the three people seated across the circular table would blend into the pale green wall entirely if not for their heads. Nairi, Roslyn, and Faris are dressed in what my father described as sacred ceremonial robes. They look a little too close to scribe robes for comfort, even if they’re pastel green and their hoods aren’t up.
Out of the ten people at the table, Talia seems the most on edge sitting next to Faris, and Xaden somehow appears completely in his element at my side. Gone are the quick flashes of smiles and tender touches.
The man sitting next to me in his freshly laundered uniform more resembles the one I met at the parapet on Conscription Day than the one I fell in love with. He’s so cold I half expect the temperature around us to plummet.
Five servers are spread among us, each with a hand on a silver dome covering our plates. My stomach churns as Faris flicks his wrist. The servers respond to the nonverbal command, lifting the domes covering our dinner.
“Don’t be a head. Don’t be a head. Don’t be a head,” I chant under my breath, but from the sideways glance Aaric sends from my right, I’m guessing I’m not as quiet as I think. Thankfully, my plate steams with roasted chicken, potatoes, and some kind of stuffing mixed with what appears to be cauliflower. No heads.
“And we’re served,” Faris announces in the common language.
“We thank Hedeon for this meal,” Nairi says, also using the common language. “For the peace in our land, the wisdom he sees fit to gift, and the satisfaction of thriving relationships. We offer to him private confession of our day’s error in sacrifice. May only our minds know hunger.”
“May only our minds know hunger,” the Hedotics repeat, and I’m somehow not surprised when Aaric doesn’t miss a beat.
“Let’s eat,” Faris suggests, picking up his crystal goblet teeming with chilled arinmint tea and gesturing in my direction. “And thank you for your gift. My Talia is quite delighted to serve it.”
“I’m happy to bring her joy,” I reply, and an awkward silence follows as he holds his goblet aloft like he’s waiting for something.
“She’s welcome.” Xaden takes a deep drink of his tea and sets it down a little harder than necessary.
Faris’s smile slips, but then he drinks, too. We all do, but it doesn’t ease the awkwardness as we begin to eat.
“How do you find our city?” Roslyn asks, her brown eyes crinkling at the corners when she smiles.
“Hard to say, considering we haven’t seen it.” Mira plucks a lemon slice off the edge of her plate and tosses it into the glass.
“Hopefully we can change that tomorrow,” Roslyn replies, studying Mira like she’s found a worthy opponent for a chess match.