Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
This time at dinner, I piled my plate high without hesitation. I’d never eaten this well at home, and if I might die, at least I’d die well-fed. I piled thick slices of steak, roasted potatoes, cheese, fruit, and pastries onto two plates.
I was carrying one in each hand as I passed by the tables where the first members of Clan Bismyth were assembling, shouting greetings to each other as if they’d been apart longer than since breakfast.
Despite my best intentions, I looked for Fieran. I searched every face, but it was unnecessary; I should’ve trusted my first impulse that he wasn’t at the table. Fieran’s presence in a room was unmistakable.
I didn’t see Maura, either. I glanced back, a sudden pulse of nervous energy alerting me that she might be behind me, but she wasn’t there. I continued toward the unclaimed section.
Dairen slid back his chair and stood to intercept me. He left a gap, carefully not infringing on my personal space. “Cara, hang on.”
I fixed him with a look, but came to a stop. His smile, open and charming, flickered just a little. Maybe he didn’t deserve that dirty glance, but it was hard to believe my mortal opinions mattered enough to dim his mood.
“Come sit with us,” he told me.
“Thank you, but I don’t belong with you.”
They might be trying to please Fieran, but no one could be happy to have lost Maura and gained me.
“You do. You’re tough enough to put up with us.”
Calling me tough seemed like a lie, but a kind one. I wasn’t sure those were better.
“Maybe I don’t want to.”
He had to know I didn’t choose to be here. But he looked almost hurt. Maybe all the shifters were fine actors.
“Rejected.” Another of the Bismyth men I didn’t know came and put his elbow on Dairen’s shoulder. “And here you usually charm the most cantankerous Fae. That Selkie—”
“She’s just nervous.” Dairen was still aiming that smile my way, as if I were something feral he had to sweet talk. Now I didn’t regret the animosity I’d shown him one bit. “She knows most shifters are bad-mannered and worse-smelling, like you.”
I tried not to stare at the familiarity between them. That kind of friendship had always sent an ache through my chest, a twist of regret that I wasn’t built for the easy friendships that had filled our village.
Now half of Bismyth seemed to be taking one side or the other as Dairen and his friend poked at each other, adding their calls and boos to the cheerful chaos that floated up to the three-story rafters.
The banter and playfulness at the table was irresistible. Almost. But I had a long experience trying to sit at crowded tables and finding I was still lonely.
I headed past him. “I’m not one of your clan.”
Dairen broke away from the teasing in a heartbeat, matching my pace as I headed for the unclaimed recruit tables. “But you will be.”
Why was he trying to be so persuasive?
I scoffed. “Is Bismyth going to claim me?”
“Of course.” He looked perplexed. “Come sit with us. We want you here.”
He looked so friendly and expectant that I almost caved. “Thank you, Dairen. But I don’t belong with you all.”
Amazingly, he looked hurt, as if the shifters really did desire my company. “Is this about Maura?”
I walked away without answering him.
Instead, I sat down at one of the long tables in the unclaimed recruits’ section. I had been one of the first ones in when the door opened today; I’d hoped to eat and get out before someone could try to make me mop.
Besides, I was excited about the pile of food on my plate, not that I ever would have admitted it. Among the shifters, every day was solstice.
All I wanted was be left alone to shovel cake into my mouth and read the book that had banged against my leg with every step, tucked into my tunic pocket.
I was only a few chapters away from the ending.
I was torn between desperation to read the ending and the desire to drag it out for another thousand years.
When I felt someone looming over me, I held my spot with a finger as I looked up.
Three shifters stared down at me. One female, with intricate silver braids, a big brawler of a male, and a beautiful, polished man with pale blond hair whose shadow fell over me. All three of them wore the plain black tunics of those who were still unclaimed, like me.
Did I need to put my book down for this?
The blond tilted his head, studying me like I was something unpleasant stuck to his boot.
“What are you doing here, mortal?” His tone was almost lazy, but his gaze was sharp enough to cut.
“What am I doing?” I looked for Fieran, so I could point at him and tell them he was the one to ask. Not only because he was the creator of all this trouble, but because they gave off a distinctly intimidating vibe. Fieran, unfortunately, was my protection.
“Iven, she doesn’t even know!” the female shifter cried to the big brawler in evident entertainment.
I didn’t see Fieran in the crowd, though I caught a glimpse of Asrael standing over at Bismyth’s tables, his gaze sweeping the room. There was no sign of Fieran on the mezzanine where he sometimes stood in judgment of us all.
Of course the one time I wanted Fieran, he was missing.
“There’s a rumor about you,” the blond said.
“There’s half a dozen rumors,” the female shifter corrected. “That Fear purchased you from the Night Market–as his experiment, or his doll, or that he saved you because he loves you…” Her lips twisted into a sneer.
Oh, joy. Were these the shifters who shared my disdain for Fieran? But instead of bonding with me, they wanted to hurt me to hurt him.
“But there’s also a rumor that you are dragon-marked.” The blond cut through all the dark rumors that seemed to delight the female shifter so much. “That you sit at this table because you belong here.”
He almost spat that last.
Perhaps Fear was wrong about Maura’s eagerness to prove her loyalty.
“Well?” Iven asked impatiently. “Can you shift?”
“We’ll find out!” I said brightly.
“Or you’ll burn,” he sneered.
“So I’ve heard.” The thought made my heart pound when I usually thought about it, but adrenaline was already flooding my veins.
“You don’t belong here.” Iven spoke slowly, as if I must be thick-witted.
“I know.” They seemed to think that very obvious fact was an insult.
“How dare you eat our food? Sit at our tables like you’re one of us?” His mouth curved, slow and cruel.
The big brawler suddenly lashed out and knocked my plate away. I grabbed for it, too late, my hands slapping the table uselessly.
The three of them burst into laughter, amused by my slow reflexes. The plate clattered onto the floor and left frosting streaked across the shiny marble.
“Here, we fight and die for you mortals, and you dare to walk in our midst.” His face twisted with contempt, and the female shifter touched his arm, giving him a worried look, full of sympathy.
My heart raced. I’d only seen shifters—dangerous as they were—in protective mode, except for Maura’s beating. These three were staring at me with ire as if I were one of the monsters.
“I don’t want to be here.” I enunciated carefully for their benefit.
The room had gone quiet. Of course everyone was watching the show. In the distance was the sound of scraping benches as if some were getting up for a better view.
“You think the queen is going to raise you to be Fae just because you’re dragon-marked?” the blond asked.
“If that’s even true,” she purred. “Let’s see the mark.”
She lunged first, faster than I expected, silver braid whipping behind her. Her hand snatched for my arm, her nails flashing like tiny knives. I pulled back, barely escaping her grip, but she pounced. Her hand caught the back of my neck, forcing my head down onto the cool wood of the table.
Maybe no one could resist the temptation to remind a mortal where they belonged when Fieran couldn’t make them crawl to pick up scraps.
The thought that I needed him burnt. I was helpless to even reach the knife in my boot.
Suddenly, a big shifter—even bigger than the three of them—forced his way between the blond and the dark-haired shifter. He didn’t seem to notice them as he dropped onto the bench across from me. He set his plate heavily on the table as his dark gaze swept over me.
“There you are.”
I had no idea who the hell he was, but the shifters hesitated. Her grip on my neck loosened.
“Caela,” the tall blond said warningly.
She yanked at the back of my collar, ripping the fabric with her dangerously sharp nails, but she was already backing away as cool air brushed my neck.
I leapt to my feet, only to see that we were being surrounded by all of Clan Bismyth. Those had been the scraping benches I heard as they rose to their feet en masse.
Dairen was there first.
“Korren,” he said to the blond, without a trace of his usual signature warmth and easygoing smile. “Do you have a problem with our little mortal?”
Korren glared back at him. “She’s sitting at our table, eating our food, and good people like Lain are gone.”
“Lain would be disgusted by you.” Asrael stepped in front of Iven.
Anayla offered a tight, dangerous smile. “If you want to argue about the mortal, we can do so in the arena. No reason to disrupt the meal.”
Unexpected warmth bloomed in my chest, but I pressed it down.
Fieran might not be present, but his people would make sure his mortal didn’t get minced in the meantime. They’d only stopped the beating for his sake.
The new shifter gripped his apple and split it in two with his bare hands, before handing me half. “You need to eat more.”
“My meal was a casualty to their clumsiness,” I said, keenly aware that I was only baiting the shifters because I wasn’t alone.
But I would eventually be alone once again, and none of them would forget this moment.
I needed to be careful. I took the apple from him, our fingers brushing briefly. “Thank you.”