Chapter 20
Non
To say I felt like a deer in headlights would have been an understatement.
The room of around a dozen people looked as shocked as I was that I had interrupted their meal.
A chair scraped across the floor, and near the head of the table, Granny stood from her chair, a look of wrath painted on her face.
Catrin used to have dreams of standing in the school dinner hall completely naked. I'd never had one myself, but standing in front of all these powerful Wielders and Witches is exactly how I imagined it would have felt.
Someone cleared their throat, and I turned to my left to see Jazz. Seated next to them was a woman dressed in a red satin dress. From the striking resemblance to Jazz, I assumed it was Ledr Emna; however, she didn't look a day over twenty-five.
“S-sorry,” I managed to stammer out, “I don't know— I was trying to get to the party and—”
Granny's eyes seemed to be fixated on what I was wearing. Although my dress was a little revealing, it seemed to be formal enough for the occasion. But as my eyes roved over the red, purple, and green habits in the room, I realised why my choice of clothing made her look murderous.
I was wearing black.
A willowy man dressed in a forest green habit stood from the head seat at the table. He brushed a strand of wiry blonde hair behind his ear before fixing his beady eyes on me.
“I didn't know we were expecting another guest from the Western Coven,” he said, looking at the opposite end of the long dining table. “Is she something to do with either of you, Ledr Caerwyn or Ail Dylan?”
The two men in black habits at the other end of the table seemed to straighten as the Wielder in green spoke to them.
The shorter of the two was in fact the man I had bumped into earlier on at the Healers' Ward, his metal manacles confirming as much.
The other man dressed in black had his back to me, but his sleeveless habit revealed knots tattooed up his muscled arms. I recognised those arms. They'd plagued every wet dream I'd had over the last few days, and thanks to the man in green, I now knew who they belonged to.
Dylan.
“I wish she were, Aeron, but the Western Coven makes no claim to her.
Although if she decides to defect, we'd welcome her with open arms.” He took a long drink from his tankard but didn't bother turning around to look and address me.
His broad West Walian accent surprised me.
The last time I had seen him, I was so focused on the show he put on that I must have missed it when he spoke.
The man in green, who seemed to be called Aeron, didn't respond; his gaze just bounced between the leaders of the Western Coven and me.
With the awkward silence stretching on, I opened my mouth to try and come up with some semblance of a lie to cover up the one thing my grandmother had insisted I keep a secret.
A blur of purple darted towards me, and within seconds, my grandmother was standing by my side.
It was bizarre to see her not wearing her usual black; instead, she wore a habit, and underneath was a long flowing robe.
She smiled at me as she placed her hand on my shoulder.
I winced, preparing for the sharp bite of her clawed finger, but it never came.
Her hand was gentle, and when I opened my eyes again, she was smiling.
My grandmother, actually fucking smiling!
“Forgive me, Pen Arwr Aeron, but Non is in fact a guest of the Northern Coven this evening.”
I tried to keep my face neutral and not make this worse by looking surprised when Granny spoke, but it was hard when I had no idea what my grandmother was doing.
“Non?” Aeron scoffed as he sat. “Tell me why she wears the colours of the West if she is a guest of the North, Ledr Bronwen?”
Granny smiled at him sweetly, and I could have sworn she even fluttered her eyelashes a few times before responding. Gross.
“She's a new member of the Northern Coven, only coming into her power a few days ago. You'll have to excuse her disregard for protocol.”
Aeron arched a brow as he drummed his bony fingers on the table. His eyes raked over my body from head to toe like I was a piece of meat. I suddenly felt murderous, and my anger, which I hadn't felt in days, seemed to rear its head. Granny gave my shoulder a quick squeeze as if she felt it too.
If he looks at us like that again, we'll melt the eyeballs from his skull and make him drink it like soup.
The voice inside me was a violent bitch, but I kind of liked her.
“She seems mature for sixteen. Maybe it's all that extra weight she's carrying,” Aeron said, sipping from a goblet.
The room exploded into motion. Dylan pushed away from the table, and his chair clattered to the ground. In his outstretched arm, a double-headed axe appeared. He lunged for the head of the table, snarling, but Caerwyn was on him in an instant, hauling him backwards.
Ail Llew seemed to appear in front of Granny from thin air.
He held a huge wooden bow in his hands. An arrow that glowed gold was nocked and aimed at Dylan.
Jazz and Ledr Emna stood poised to fight, both holding wooden staffs.
Each end of Jazz's was finished with a curved blade similar to a scythe.
Only one end of Emna's held a blade, but it tapered into a deadly point.
“I knew I shouldn't have wagered that bet with Jazz,” a voice whispered in my ear, startling me.
I whipped around to see Addae and a man who towered above him standing next to me.
The other male could have passed for Addae's twin save for the height difference and his lighter skin.
Addae's staff was still strapped to his back, but the other man, who I assumed was his father, Ail Taran, had his weapon pointed at Dylan.
“Do these things often end in the dinner guests trying to kill each other?” I whispered to Addae, who gave me a smile that was all teeth.
“Not always, but most of the time. This, though, looks like it's going to be a particularly good one. We might even get some actual blood spilled.”
The groan of a drawstring being pulled taut had everyone looking to the far corner of the room behind Aeron.
A woman around the same age as me, with curly blonde hair cut into a blunt bob, was loading an arrow into a small crossbow attached to her arm.
Her eyes, which were the same shade of green as the habit she wore, were wild as they fixated on Dylan.
A snarl ripped from her throat as she lunged forward and fired the iron bolt, aiming directly for Dylan's chest.
Without thinking, my body moved, launching myself forward, tripping ungracefully over the hem of my dress. Dylan had managed to wrestle his arms free of Caerwyn's bear hug, but instead of protecting himself from the oncoming bolt, he caught me instead.
With my head buried in his chest, a sickening thunk sounded as the bolt found its mark. I braced myself for the oncoming pain, but it never came; instead, the brush of stubble caressed the shell of my ear.
“I appreciate the concern, cariad, but I would have gladly taken a hundred arrows to the chest if it means no one touches a hair on your head.”
Pulling my face away from his muscled chest, I looked up to see Dylan's jaw clenched in pain. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw his one arm extended over the dining table, the iron bolt buried in his palm. It had protruded out the other side and was dripping blood all over the dinner plates.
“Couldn't have me making a mess on that pretty dress now, could we? You look devastating in black, by the way,” he whispered smugly, although I could hear the waver of pain in his voice.
“Who does she think she is?” a feminine voice screeched. As I looked over my shoulder, the blonde in green was loading another bolt to her crossbow.
“Shit!” Dylan snarled as he pulled me from his chest and pushed me into the arms of Caerwyn. I thrashed against him in protest, but he held my arms against my sides with a surprising gentleness as he begged me to be quiet.
Seemingly from nowhere, Dylan's axe whirled through the air towards Aeron. At the same time, the blonde released the second bolt, which was aimed directly at Dylan's chest. I had a bad feeling that she wouldn't miss.
“Enough!” Aeron bellowed, and Dylan's axe froze mid-air only inches from Aeron's quivering throat. The golden arrow Ail Llew had nocked earlier snicked through the air, knocking the iron bolt away from Dylan's chest.
As the bolt clattered to the floor, the room fell silent.
Each guest remained frozen like a statue, eyeing each other expectantly for the next attack.
It came as no surprise when the blonde bitch moved first, breaking into a run as she swung her fists towards Dylan.
A streak of red blurred in front of me as Jazz dove to block her.
At the same time, Aeron spoke his command.
“Stand down, Mared. That's an order.”
Mared, aka blonde bitch, shoved at Jazz, who held her around the waist with one arm, their staff extended towards Dylan in the other.
Jazz whispered something in Mared's ear that caused her cheeks to flush.
She pushed out of Jazz's embrace and moved to stand next to Aeron, whose face was now dripping in sweat.
Dylan's axe remained pressed against his jugular, the edge of the blade drawing a thin stream of blood that trickled onto Aeron's habit.
Caerwyn, who'd let go of my arms and shifted me behind him, stepped towards Dylan.
“Step down, lad. Let's not turn another one of these dinners into a bloodbath.” He dropped his voice low so only we could hear.
“You know that's what the snivelling prick wants, for you to lose it so he can punish you. Don't give him the satisfaction.”
A muscle in Dylan's jaw ticked as he contemplated Caerwyn's words; his eyes were fixed ahead of us. I followed his line of sight to the far end of the room, and it seemed he was staring at Ledr Emna and Jazz rather than Aeron.
I couldn't force the air out of my lungs as we waited to see what Dylan would do next.
Eventually, he summoned his axe back to his palm, and the room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.
But then he was moving again, striding to the head of the table in a few steps.
His boot shot out, kicking the chair Aeron sat in, so it tipped backwards.
He caught him by the front of his habit, hovering Aeron inches from the floor.
Dylan was a huge man, easily pushing seven feet in height, and he stood over Aeron like that, glaring down at him with nothing but rage in his eyes.
He looked like something that had just stepped out of the Otherworld.
When he spoke, he did so with such clarity that it made him all the more terrifying.
“Insult or disrespect her again, Aeron, and I'll bury my axe so far into your skull, you'll still feel it when you pass on to the Otherworld.”
A normal person would have found his threat concerning. I was completely unharmed, after all. But my heart raced at his intensity, and I felt a blush creep up my chest and settle on my cheeks.
Dylan hoisted Aeron back into a sitting position.
Releasing his grip on the man's habit, he turned and strode back to his seat at the far end of the table.
With a flick of his wrist, his axe spun through the air, landing in his outstretched hand.
He slammed it down onto the table like a cleaver into a butcher's block.
He summoned his chair from across the room. It screeched against the stone floor as it flew back into place, landing precisely where it had been moments earlier. Dylan dropped into it, seemingly unaware that the entire room had fallen silent, every eye fixed on him.
He took a long pull from his tankard, ale spilling down the corners of his mouth. Then, without so much as a wince, he yanked the bolt from his palm in one swift motion. Blood spilled from the wound, but he grabbed a napkin, gave it a shake, and wrapped it around his hand.
Without missing a beat, he picked up what looked like a turkey leg and tore into it like nothing at all had happened.
From across the room, Granny cleared her throat. She'd silently moved to Aeron's side while everyone was distracted by Dylan's display.
“I think everyone would benefit from taking a short break to compose themselves.” She placed a hand on Aeron's shoulder and leaned towards his ear. “Shall we take a moment to speak in private, Pen Arwr?”
Aeron didn't respond as he pushed away from the table and stormed towards a door to the rear of the room.
Ail Llew, whose giant bow had disappeared, grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards the same door.
I snatched my wrist from his grasp but followed him, Granny, and Mared as they all exited the dining hall.
I gave one final look over my shoulder at Dylan, who'd stood up like he was going to follow us.
After taking one step forward, he stumbled but caught himself on the table.
His usual tanned complexion had changed to a sickly pallor, and the sweat on his brow was visible from a distance.
Caerwyn was at his side in an instant, holding him up.
As Caerwyn looked around the room, he noticed the remainder of the room had gone silent, staring at Dylan.
“Foolish boy drank too much ale, that's all.”