30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

L uc gently pats the seat next to him in the dining hall, which earns a strange look from Eoin. I sit down, and Luc places my napkin on my lap. August watches with cold calculation. Someone from the kitchen fills our glasses with a blood-red wine as more servants bring out our dinner.

This meal is much more formal than the others we've had here, and I'm not sure which of the many utensils I'm supposed to use. I turn my eyes to Eoin. I sometimes forget he grew up wealthy before he was orphaned. He fits in so well here.

He's not even looking at me when he gently taps a fork in front of him twice, indicating which one I'm supposed to use. His eyes scan the garland and candlesticks across the table and up to the brass and crystal chandelier centered above us. His brows furrow, and he tilts his head in concentration. Shit. I stole one of those crystals last night. I didn't think anyone would notice.

His eyes snap to mine.

Put it back , he mouths the phrase in such as way it's as if he's silently shouting at me across the table.

My eyes widen, and I grimace. Maybe I should put the other two back that I stole from the study chandelier before he notices.

"So. . ." Ciaran shovels an oversized bite of steak into his mouth. "Whose ready to head to the underworld?" He speaks while chewing, and Razenna looks at him with disgust written all over her face.

"Yes," August says. "We can act like entering the underworld will be as smooth as silk, and I'll gladly play along." His eyes meet mine as he utters the last two words. Why does that phrase sound so familiar?

"But in reality," August continues. "It will be a great opportunity to let off some built-up power. I wouldn't want it to build up so much that we start using magic in our sleep, waking the innocent from blissful rest." He smirks at me and lifts his glass.

My face likely mirrors those around me with various looks of puzzlement and confusion, and then it hits me. Oh, sleeping gods, he is talking about me. My ears are practically on fire as I recall my dream about him and my fantasy. When he found me on the balcony, he mentioned that someone had awakened him. I just assumed it was Lydia. How much of that did I push into his mind? Did I push it into his and Lydia's? Was she even there? My heart pounds in my ears, and heat radiates off my chest. If she was, no wonder she attacked me.

I dare glance and find him chuckling to himself. I need to know how much he saw. Actually, I don't think I ever want to know. My embarrassment now amplifies my nerves about tonight. I down my glass of wine and request a refill.

"Anyway, what did I miss while I was napping? Did you make any headway?" I try to steer the conversation back to the relic.

"I confirmed I have an appropriate gift to obtain it, according to the old Crusader," Luc states with an heir of importance.

"Yes, but you didn't disclose exactly what that power is," Eoin calls him out.

"I see no need to do any such thing until we are at the precipice. Why would I disclose such valuable information about myself unless we are indeed before the relic."

He glances at me with a small grin. "Bronwyn's hunch was correct. She used some of my power a couple of nights ago, though I don't think she properly knows how, as nothing was destroyed when I woke up.

Ciaran furrows his brows and shares a look with August.

"That's why I think it's important that I'm the one retrieving the relic, not her."

I snicker and quickly cover my mouth. The fact that he is willing to do most of the work this time says so much. I bet he thinks I'll steal it if I get my hands on it first. And he's right.

"Sorry," I say, remembering what Razenna said. "It's the wine." I hold up my refilled glass toward Luc. "You're definitely more equipped than I am for this quest."

He seems appeased by this. "Yes well, I shall buy the relic sword from Selene after we obtain it, and we also believe there may be an important tome there as well. A copy will be made to return to me when I purchase the sword."

The conversation moves on to other topics through dinner. The temporary alliance between Luc and August lifts some of the usual tension in the room. The conversations flow easily, and the moments of silence are few and far between. If a stranger were to walk into the room now, they would likely assume we're all friends—except Razenna, who sits silently.

Her eyes bounce between us all, taking in our conversations and our habits. When she does ask a question, she ever so slightly steers the conversation somewhere else. I don't think anyone else has noticed. She's brilliant. It makes me suddenly aware of how much I've wedged myself between two powerful rivals. This allegiance seems peaceful now, but in my gut, I know it is flimsy and temporary, and I don't know where I'm going to land in the end.

My heart thumps in my chest as anxiety creeps back in. I've only eaten half of my meal but, suddenly, I've lost my appetite. I stand abruptly and the conversations at the table stop. August, Ciaran, Mads, and Eoin stand as well, expecting me to leave. But instead, I walk to the bar and pour myself a glass of whatever this dark amber liquid fire is. I return to my seat, and they all sit with me. "Continue," I say and raise my glass to the group. Sven and Ciaran continue their stories, trying to one-up one another on tales of conquest and Mads crosses the room, sitting down beside me.

"Are you good?" he asks, eyebrows raised. His voice is low and discreet but carries a weight of authority. The dimple in his chin shifts as he purses his lips together.

"Yeah, completely fine," I say and force a smile. I sip from my drink, and he takes it from me, pulling it straight from my lips. I frown. I try to take it back, but he holds the glass just out of reach. I glare at him.

"You'll thank me later," he whispers through his teeth. I try one last time to snatch the drink out of his hand and he puts it to his mouth and tips it back. We stare at one another in silence. "If you think you're getting out of tonight by being too drunk to train, you're grossly mistaken." His green eyes narrow, and my attention is drawn to his fangs.

Luc, seemingly oblivious to our conversation, stands and holds out his hand to me. "Shall I escort you to your room? I think we have plenty of time for a game or two this evening. I thought we might try a game of castles."

***

Our first match is quick as I'm a little rusty. Luc drinks heavily and makes light conversation with me, making it easy to forget the precarious situation I've gotten myself into. As he loosens up, he cracks jokes and makes me laugh on multiple occasions. During our second match, I'm momentarily elated as I think I've trapped his King. However, I move prematurely, and he beats me once more. Our last match takes nearly half an hour but, in the end, I'm defeated.

"You're getting better, Legs." We put away the pieces, and he pulls out a cigar. "It's a shame the Prophet hunts people like you." His eyes are glassy, bloodshot, and distant. "They've snuffed out so much potential. I can't imagine having even an ounce of god-power. Or, think about how many potential inventions we've lost from the mages they've executed."

"I've never understood why mages are hunted as well."

"Mages aren't magical like you or me. They pull magic straight from the source as the runes do, then force it into objects or their inventions. The Prophet views it as stealing from the gods, a capital offense." Luc hiccups and puts out his cigar. "If strong enough, they can be a threat to us fae or even the gods."

"My people view the magic that's left behind as a gift from the gods, not stealing."

Luc nods, and his expression turns dark. "Your people are slow to learn and quick to forget."