36. Brothers in Harm #2
We’d reached the ground floor and were crossing a spacious sitting room.
Windows let in natural light at the front with a view to the courtyard outside, a low, stone wall, and the forest and mountains in the distance.
At the other end of the large space, a handful of older men sat in big chairs, one of them smoking.
Bren looked at them askance, but didn’t speak, and none of them addressed her. I wasn’t sure if that was etiquette, or distrust, so I didn’t ask.
When we pushed through the wide, tall door and outside, Bren let go of a breath as if she’d been holding it, and turned to me, speaking as if there’d been no pause.
“Voski is different from the others. I’m sure they’ll all be glad to meet you. And if they aren’t, just make fun of them. They’ll warm up quickly.”
I laughed at her joke, but her brows pinched over her nose.
“Oh… you mean it?” I stammered. “About teasing them? I assumed—”
“Trust me,” she said with a wry smile. “Unless you’re willing to tease them, it’s going to be a very uncomfortable life. They’ll be gentler with you than they are with each other, but even ladies won’t escape their jibes. I promise.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Were the men cruel and cutting, like most of the nobles I’d grown up with?
Or was it cocky bravado? Some of the heirs weren’t cruel, but they seemed to lack any skill in serious conversation.
Everything was innuendo, or gossip. And any attempt at genuine talk was met with blank smiles, a quick change of subject, or flight.
A lot of them ran from me.
I frowned, chewing my lip as Bren led me along the paths to the biggest of the buildings—two full wings the size of a manor-house, windows shuttered and thickly framed on the higher levels, but a wide hall at the ground floor, with two sets of large, double-doors, and more massive windows, each as tall as a man, that ran the length of the front wall.
The noise inside was shocking—even louder than a banquet because the entire space was stone. Stone floor. Stone walls. Even the high, wooden beam rafters propped a stone ceiling.
Dozens of tables, each set for ten large men, were organized in orderly lines around the room.
Some with benches, others with individual chairs.
More tables lined the back wall, with the first women I’d seen other than the seamstresses, all standing behind it, over steaming pots and trays, serving food to the men as they walked along the line with plates.
Halfway across the floor, one deep, happy voice rose above the echoing hubbub. “Aho! There she is!”
Bren’s head snapped to the right. Her face lit up. “Gil!”
I watched, my chest tight and warm in the same breath, as Bren darted across the floor, between tables, to be caught up in the arms of the other man who’d accompanied her to a ball in Fyrehold when Donavyn couldn’t.
Where Voski’s broad-shouldered, trim build reminded me of a powerful cat, Gil was as tall, but thick and strong, like a horse.
There was something quick and terrifying about Voski. But he lacked the bulk of this man.
Gil—face and hands dirty, his hair wet with sweat—swung Bren around in a hug, beaming, then set her back on her feet as a small crowd of men gathered behind him.
“We weren’t expecting you for another day! I’m so glad you’re safe!”
“I made up time on the flight. Traveling alone is easy, and I knew you’d miss me, so I needed to hurry.”
Gil smiled wide as half the men behind him groaned or rolled their eyes.
“You’re just in time!” Bren said. “I’ve got Grace!”
The men’s faces went wide with surprise. One of them, a sandy-haired man in leathers, who looked to be about my age, but with a boyish grin, waved. “Hello Bren’s friend, Grace!”
“Friend?” Bren frowned at them. “What do you mean, friend? I mean, yes, she is but she’s so much more than that—didn’t you hear?”
Gil, standing in front of the others, looked back over his shoulder and shrugged. “I just arrived. They’ve been distracted,” he said, then winked at me over Bren’s shoulder.
I smiled. And swallowed hard.
Bren gestured to where I stood, ten feet away, gaping.
“Grace, these are our brothers. Come say hello!” She walked back to me, took me by the hand and pulled me forward.
“I befriended Grace in Fyrehold. But after I left, she was Chosen, and her dragon bonded with Kham and—wait, where’s Voski?
” She looked past the group. Everyone turned to look for Voski—who was hunched, sitting at the end of the table, next to the wall of the dining hall. “Voski, didn’t you tell them?”
I couldn’t see Voski’s face, but whatever he did—or said—made Bren put her hands on her hips and shake her head.
“Tell us what?” asked one of the men, with a shock of white hair and gray eyes that were eerily light.
Bren’s eyes narrowed and she muttered something under her breath, then suddenly, my friend, and now dragon-sister, became a whirlwind.
While she quickly relayed the bare bones of what had happened—me following Voski, Koa choosing me, our dragons mating, Koa agreeing to submit to Kgosi, and our hurried return to the Keep—she dragged me toward the men, then through them, pulled back a chair across the table from Voski, who huddled over his plate and stared at us with hunted eyes.
Bren gripped my shoulder, pressing me down into a seat, then turned to face the rest of the men.
“She’ll be acknowledged tomorrow, and she’s our new sister!”
The men’s brows all shot toward their hairlines. Half of them then snapped heads to gape at me, while the others turned on Voski.
“What the fuck, bro—you knew?”
“Nice to meet you, Grace. I’m Oros.” He was the largest man I’d ever seen. Where Gil was a stallion, Oros was a bull.
“Sneaky bastard.”
“Not too sneaky if she could follow him.”
“Wait, she followed you, Vos?”
Voski’s hunted expression shifted to barely concealed panic. He shoveled food into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in days. Which I supposed we hadn’t.
My stomach chose that moment to suddenly remember my intense hunger, and growl audibly—loud enough that the men standing nearest heard it.
“Wait, you’ve been traveling too? And haven’t eaten yet?” said the pleasant, younger one who smiled so big when we entered. He made a great fuss of running to the tables at the back for food.
Bren dropped into a chair next to me and started introductions, but my head spun.
Gil, who I remembered from Fyrehold.
Harle, the one running to get food.
Oros, who’d introduced himself already.
Einar, the one with white hair and odd eyes.
Then Bren introduced Jhoare—a golden, sunny man—who was the handsomest man I’d ever seen. He kissed my knuckles and smiled, which made my cheeks warm.
“It’s a very great pleasure to meet you, Grace,” he said with the heated kind of grin I expected from a flirting noble.
I giggled without realizing I would do so.
“Laying it on a bit thick for a sister aren’t you, Jhoare?” Voski growled.
“What crawled up your leathers and died?” Gil asked casually.
The men chuckled as Voski had stopped eating and planted one elbow on the table, resting his jaw on his fist. He glared at the man standing over my chair. When I moved, Voski’s gaze snapped to meet mine, his dark eyes gleaming with an edge of anger.
I shrank under that attention. But luckily, was saved from having to respond by the arrival of Ronen.
“Oh, good. You’re all being introduced. I wanted to make sure everyone had heard the news.”