Chapter 13 Share Your Table with a Hero
(Without Strangling Him, Somehow)
Kazimir
The private dining room was one of the few spaces that had escaped damage during the attack. It was considerably smaller than the Great Hall, with a table that could only seat six people comfortably. A roaring fire in the large hearth completed the intimate setting.
We’d barely entered when the door opened again, admitting Thorne with Griffin and Sebastian trailing behind. A guard hovered at the doorway—Sebastian hadn’t been allowed to navigate the Inner Sanctum alone.
“My lord,” Thorne said with a nod. “My lady.”
“Lady Blackrose,” Sebastian said with a deep bow that was both excessive and graceful.
“I don’t know how to thank you for your extraordinary kindness.
And Lord Blackrose—” He turned to me with another bow.
“Offering sanctuary to someone who has no claim on your mercy is… unexpected, given your reputation.”
I glowered at him, about to remind him that I hadn’t offered him anything.
“You’re welcome, Sebastian,” Arabella said, clearly fighting a smile. “Any enemy of Auremar’s is a friend of ours.”
Friend. I didn’t like that word. Ally, perhaps. Useful asset, certainly. But friend? No.
“Thank you,” Sebastian said warmly. I noticed his gaze had drifted to the black roses. He frowned slightly, then seemed to forcibly drag his attention back to us.
Beside him, Griffin was practically vibrating with excitement, looking at Sebastian like he was some kind of hero. Which, technically, I supposed he was. How nauseating.
As people found their seats, Sebastian’s eyes kept flicking to the roses, his brow furrowing. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again, shaking his head slightly.
Thorne caught my attention. “A word?”
I let him pull me aside. Griffin was already stammering at Sebastian about the architectural integrity of the dining room’s vaulted ceiling, though Sebastian seemed distracted, his violet eyes darting to the centerpiece again.
“The aftermath was handled,” Thorne said, his voice low. “Most of our forces were still dealing with the bodies when you left. The few enemies who witnessed anything are no longer witnesses.”
“Good.” The last thing I needed was word spreading about my moment of weakness. My enemies would pounce on any sign of vulnerability.
“All in all, morale is high, my lord. The victory was decisive. The outpost is secured, and our forces are ready to move on your command. It was a perfectly executed campaign.”
I resisted the urge to grumble about how it was hardly a campaign when everything had gone to shit before we’d even properly begun.
Thorne paused.
“What?” I prompted.
“Some of the shadow constructs you left behind are apparently still wandering around, terrifying the remaining servants in the outpost.”
“They’ll dissipate eventually.” Probably. My control over them had been growing stronger lately, but I hadn’t actually tested them at such a distance. I could recall them of course, but couldn’t be bothered just now.
“When are you returning?” Thorne asked.
I shook my head. “A few days, at most. We’ll know more after I speak to Griffin.” I refused to acknowledge a full retreat might be necessary. There was still time to reach Sunspire and take it before Auremar could muster his full forces. “The bone collection?”
“Proceeding as ordered,” Thorne said. “They’re being gathered and cleaned. Should be ready for transport within the day.”
We returned to the table just as Vex entered. Sebastian immediately stood, nearly knocking over his chair in his haste.
Vex’s eyes narrowed slightly when she saw him. “I was moving his rooms,” she said, taking her seat with precise movements that meant she was irritated. “Lord Sebastian will be quite comfortable now.”
Sebastian’s violet eyes fixed on her with obvious interest. “I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble, Lady…?”
“Vex,” she said simply. “I’m Lord Blackrose’s steward.”
“A steward of remarkable grace and skill, I’d venture to say,” Sebastian said, and then his eyes widened in horror. “To manage such a fortress each day.” He clamped his mouth shut, his face flushing.
Everyone stared.
Thorne blinked slowly. “Did you just rhyme?”
Sebastian looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him. “My most sincere apologies. It’s an unfortunate lingering effect from an incident.”
“The Bone Witch incident,” Griffin breathed, his eyes going wide. “You still rhyme?”
“Only when I’m particularly stressed or…” Sebastian glanced around the table. “It’s most inconvenient.”
“You invited Bone Witches to a winter solstice ball,” I said flatly. “And you’re surprised there were consequences?”
“I’d hoped that fostering understanding between disparate magical communities might—” Sebastian stopped, pressing his lips together as if physically preventing another rhyme from escaping.
“It could have been worse,” Vex said, picking up her knife. “I once tracked down a Bone Witch who cursed one of our suppliers.”
Sebastian swallowed. “And what happened?” He seemed to have forgotten to rhyme in his eagerness to change the subject.
Vex grinned. “She speaks only in limericks now.” She twirled the knife between her fingers. “The witch, I mean. Not the supplier.”
“See?” Arabella whispered to me. “Badass.”
The food arrived—roasted fowl with vegetables, fresh bread, wine from my private reserve.
Sebastian’s eyes widened slightly at the spread, though he kept glancing at the roses with increasing agitation.
“I didn’t expect such a—” He paused delicately.
“That is to say, your hospitality exceeds all reasonable expectations.”
“You’ll find most villains are quite civilized,” I said, tearing into the bread. “Until we’re not.”
Throughout the first course, Sebastian kept shooting worried glances at the black roses, occasionally tilting his head as if listening. Finally, he actually shook his finger at them sternly.
“Is there a problem with the flowers?” Vex asked abruptly.
Sebastian froze. “I—that is… they’re quite—” He sighed in defeat. “They’re being terribly gossipy, if you must know.”
Griffin dropped his fork. “The roses are talking to you?”
“All plants talk,” Sebastian said defensively. “These are just particularly chatty. And rather inappropriate, if I’m being honest. The things they’re saying about—” He cut himself off, face reddening.
“What?” Arabella leaned forward, fascinated.
Sebastian looked supremely uncomfortable. “I’d rather not repeat it in polite company. Or any company. Ever.”
Griffin looked at his precious roses with betrayal. “They’re gossiping and I can’t hear them.”
“They’re only magically enhanced to sample blood,” I said slowly. “But you’re telling me they’ve developed personalities?”
“Oh, they’re quite opinionated,” Sebastian said miserably. “That one”—he pointed to a rose on the left—“keeps making highly inappropriate suggestions about what you and Lady Blackrose were doing before dinner.”
Arabella choked on her wine.
“Trust me, the roses aren’t breaking any news,” Thorne muttered into his wineglass.
Vex shot him a look. “Lord Sebastian, you’ll have to forgive the roses. And Lord and Lady Blackrose. They’re still very much in their honeymoon phase.”
Sebastian blinked, clearly uncertain how to respond to that. “I… see. How lovely for them?”
Griffin nodded earnestly. “It’s been quite educational, actually. The structural reinforcement spells I’ve had to add to certain chambers—”
“Griffin,” I said dangerously.
“—are completely confidential and I’ll never speak of them again,” Griffin finished in a squeak.
I was ready to strangle him. How the hell did these roses know anything? Especially not activities in a bedroom they hadn’t even been inside. It wasn’t so much about the obvious—everyone already knew Arabella and I were insatiable. It was the principle.
Today, bedroom gossip. Tomorrow, war plans and weaknesses.
At least the only plant-whisperer I knew was a pacifist Scone Lord, and he wasn’t going anywhere without my permission.
“And that one”—Sebastian pointed to another rose as if desperate to latch on to another subject—“is critiquing everyone’s table manners. Rather harshly, I might add.”
“I can’t help with the dribbling,” Thorne rumbled. “You try eating after you’ve taken a boot to the face!”
“Did you lose a tooth in the battle?” Arabella asked with concern.
“Nearly,” Thorne said, touching his jaw gingerly. “A bit tender, too.”
“I can fix that,” Arabella said, already rising from her seat.
“Would be grateful, my lady. I didn’t have time to seek out a healer.” Thorne pushed back from the table with a scrape of his chair.
They excused themselves, Arabella’s hand already glowing faintly with healing magic.
I returned my attention to the roses. “This is absurd.”
“I do apologize,” Sebastian said. “I’ve been trying to ignore them, but they’re remarkably persistent. It’s like having a table full of maiden aunts who’ve had too much sherry.”
Griffin, apparently unable to contain himself any longer, burst out, “Lord Sebastian, do you remember my atmospheric harmonizer at the Conclave?”
Sebastian’s face lit up. “The snow machine! Of course I remember. Brilliant concept, even if the execution was a bit chilly.”
Griffin went scarlet. “You saved everyone with those mountain flowers. The way they just sprouted from the stone—”
“I sense a story,” Arabella said as she and Thorne returned to their seats. Thorne was working his jaw with satisfaction.
“I was presenting.” Griffin’s words tumbled over one another. “A device to create controlled weather patterns for agricultural purposes. But the third rune was misaligned, and instead of a gentle spring shower, it created a flash-freezing blizzard inside the conference hall.”
“Chaos everywhere,” Sebastian added with a fond smile. “Alchemists scrambling to protect their volatile concoctions, papers flying, half-finished automatons short-circuiting.”