CHAPTER FIVE
Thom stared at the row of tankards on the wall behind the bar.
The small tavern was too loud for his liking.
Its long, narrow confines held far too many people for its smattering of tables.
Every chair and table was full, the length of the wooden bartop packed with those sitting and standing as they talked and drank.
A solitary bard played the mandolin in the corner, adding to the cacophony of sounds.
When they’d arrived in The Rook’s tavern room through a hidden door in a storeroom, their band was welcomed with cheers and excitement.
Thom recognized many of the people from the meeting, surprised to discover that the tavern was, like the hotel, completely occupied with Alliance members.
Though he supposed that would have to be the case with Auden and Ilain’s faces plastered on Blount’s writ.
Vayden readily began to introduce their team—they all ignored the missing presence of Deckard and Evylin—while Auden and Ilain were swept into conversation with old friends and comrades.
Ushered into the space, they found themselves at the front of the tavern, an ample-bodied woman asking what they’d like to drink.
Shortly, she returned with tankards of ale and glasses of wine.
Everything devolved from there as Rafferty settled into his finest role.
He told story after story, regaling the Alliance crowd before tricking them into playing cards.
While Rafferty conned them out of their money, the rest of their party slowly branched off from the large front table.
Vayden and Isla wandered away to sit in a half-booth at the far side of the tavern.
As they’d sent their daughter away under the supervision of Graicelle from the hotel, the couple preferred to enjoy their time alone.
Auden moved to visit with a group of fellow Mages, and Ethenn wound up talking with Lieutenant Lohen and Emmaas in the corner.
Ilain entertained a small crowd, sipping her white wine as they asked her questions about her time in Ephria.
And Thom . . . He felt more alone than he had in some time, even though surrounded by a hundred or so patrons. So he drifted off to sit at the bar, thinking that if he was doomed to feel alone, he might as well be alone.
Setting his ale on the counter, Thom rested his hands around the cold clay tankard. He wished that Deckard and Evylin hadn’t left. He didn’t blame them. If he had a spouse, he would far prefer to be alone together after the ordeal they’d survived as well.
Thom glanced back at the front table. Rafferty would happily welcome him by his side, but he didn’t particularly care to watch him play tricks.
Not in the midst of the existential crisis Thom was going through.
Of course, that was melodramatic, but that’s how it felt.
After years of living as the victim, he was finally owning up to his faults and trying to fix them.
The only problem was that Thom didn’t know how to do that.
How did one stop being a foolish git after nearly twenty-eight years of narcissism?
He wasn’t exactly sure. But the best path he could determine was to make up for his past behavior to Deckard.
Thom had to become a better man. He had to prove himself to his brother, stop worrying so much about what people thought of him, and put others first.
And the problem there was that he didn’t know how to do those things either.
Deckard was the one who took care of people. He was the leader. He saw beyond his feelings and desires and got the job done while Thom wallowed and blubbered and failed. And Thom couldn’t see a way out of that miserable existence without his brother nearby to lead him by example.
He pressed his lips together and wiped away a droplet of ale.
Laughter rang out from the front table. Rafferty doled out some cash as he “lost,” obviously lulling his audience into a false sense of security.
Thom wondered if the Alliance would kick Rafferty out for swindling so many of their members tonight.
Suddenly, a fire-bright presence appeared at Thom’s side. “You’re moping,” Ilain said, then turned to the barkeep. “Imelda, could I have another, please?”
The woman took her wine glass and began refilling it while Ilain leaned against the bar.
Her rich red dress did wonders for her figure, making her appear more voluptuous than she was.
Not that Thom knew firsthand. He’d simply seen enough women to know when things were illusory.
And by the way Ilain rested against the counter, her torso slanted just right, she was evidently aware of how the dress played to her more provocative assets.
“You are stunning,” Thom said dryly, gesturing to her stance. “Are you flirting with me once more?”
Ilain accepted the wine glass from Imelda with a gracious “thank you.” Then she gave Thom the most searing glare he’d ever received. “Why would I ever flirt with you again,” she said with venom, “when you’ve ruined what might be my one chance at happiness?”
Thom raised his brow, keeping his expression in check despite how his gut twisted. “That’s an excellent question,” he said. “It begs another, though.”
“Does it?”
“Mm. Why are you talking to me in the first place?”
Ilain eyed him. “Perhaps I intend to punish you.”
“By gracing me with your sparkling presence?” Thom scoffed and turned back to his ale. “Consider me reprimanded.”
She didn’t reply, but neither did she leave.
Surrounded as they were, Thom didn’t think it was the right place to have the conversation they ought to have but took a long swig of ale and did it anyway.
“I’m sorry,” he said, meeting her angry glare.
“I made a mistake. One in a long line of thousands. I would have said something sooner, but . . .”
Ilain twirled the stem of her glass, waiting.
Thom took a deep breath. “I’m gonna fix it,” he promised.
“How?” she demanded.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Hm.” Ilain tapped a finger on the bartop, pursed her lips, and then pushed herself to stand. “Good enough. Come with me.”
“Pardon?” Thom said, baffled.
Ilain didn’t bother to explain. She grabbed the collar of his coat, and he grappled to get ahold of his tankard before she pulled him from the counter.
Across the narrow room, she dragged him to Vayden and Isla’s table.
The couple sat closely on the L-shaped bench, and Ilain took the seat closest to her sister-in-law.
“Sit,” Ilain ordered Thom, pointing to the chair next to her.
Cautiously, Thom glanced at Vayden and Isla—who were both watching him with interest—before doing as told.
“How many have you had tonight, Lainy?” Vayden asked, nodding to his sister’s wine glass.
“You know I have a high tolerance,” Ilain returned. “And we had a large meal.”
Isla smiled knowingly. “Not even we Mages possess that high a tolerance, dear.”
Suddenly understanding the reason for Ilain’s additionally ostentatious demeanor, Thom chuckled. “You’re drunk?” he asked.
“I’m not drunk,” Ilain said. “I’m tipsy. Seems you should know the difference.”
“Because I drink so much?”
“Because you’re friends with Rafferty.”
Thom opened his mouth to reply before realizing she was right. The weasel did have a habit of pushing spirits on his friends at an abnormal rate.
Vayden watched their exchange thoughtfully, then leaned toward his sister. “For my sanity, try not to overdo it, Lain.”
“It’s a bit late for that,” Ilain replied with a tip of her glass in his direction. “You don’t have to worry. I’ve got Thom to protect me should any men have nefarious designs on my person.”
Feeling the lightheadedness of the ale hitting his own system, Thom frowned at her. “I’m not exactly at my best at the present moment,” he said.
“You’re never at your best,” Ilain retorted, then turned back to her siblings. “You’re sending Rey back to Mum and Da?”
Though Vayden looked ready to pursue the previous conversation, Isla spoke first. “We are,” she said. “Veris and Lorna Grenwoode are returning to the moors themselves, so they offered to take her with them.”
Ilain made a face. “Poor Rey. That’ll be a dreadfully boring trip.”
Isla grinned. “She is looking forward to being with your parents and the horses again. Though she requested to join our mission as well.”
“Of course she did.”
Thom felt like an interloper sitting in on the family exchange.
After the past month of developing a friendship with Ilain—a true miracle if there ever was one—he found himself interested in learning as much as he could about the enigma of the Fire Mage.
She was strange and confusing to him. He’d come to see the similarities they shared between their passionate, strong-willed personalities.
But where Thom was prone to cynicism and a sense of inferiority, Ilain was confident and crafty.
She wore a facade few had the opportunity to crack, and he was determined to discover what was truly underneath.
As though sensing Thom’s thoughts, Ilain turned to him. “You’ve got yourself an admirer, you know,” she said.
“What?” he replied, confused by the sudden diversion.
“Reyana,” Isla clarified. “Our daughter has worked up an infatuation for you.”
Now, it was Vayden’s turn to say, “What?”
Isla patted his hand. “Don’t worry, love. Infatuations are merely part of growing into a young woman.”
Thom let out a small grunt of disapproval, though he didn’t think any of them could hear it over the chaos around them. “I assure you,” he said to Vayden, “I won’t be returning her interest.”
“I should hope not,” Vayden said sharply. “She’s still a child.”
Ilain’s gaze, somewhat glassy from drink, drifted to the front of the tavern before returning to her brother. “Thirteen isn’t quite a child.”
“But neither is it old enough for romance,” Isla countered.
“It most certainly is not,” Vayden agreed, looking thoroughly uncomfortable with the idea that his daughter might not be quite as childlike as he’d imagined.