67. THE DINNER PARTY
The dinner table was set for eight. Instead of dining in one of the normal spots in The Keep, I had brought out a long, wooden table to the center of The Keep’s main patio using my telekinesis.
It was the biggest item I’d attempted to move so far, and I was surprised with how overwhelmingly easy it was to just send it through the air on a thought.
The weather was perfect. The air was calm, allowing for all the candles to remain lit without issue. I traced my fingers over the chairbacks, counting the gold plates at each place setting—one for Aremis, Maeson, Roirdan, Nivelle, Silas, Remic, Niall, and myself.
Our group had been separated for a few days, each of us overseeing some sort of duty that pulled us in different directions.
But now that everyone was home and under one roof again, I figured I would throw a small dinner party.
We needed a relaxing gathering where we could sit and enjoy an unhurried meal and each other’s company.
I’d spent the afternoon planning and commissioning a delicious menu with the help of the kitchen staff.
Each platter of steaming meats and roasted vegetables smelled as divine as they looked.
Sorscha helped decorate, and had kept me full of her now-famous cinnamon sugar toast while I worked.
The table was strewn with the candles that Amarna had kept from our wedding and stashed away in The Keep’s storage rooms. The flowers I borrowed from the freshly-picked bundles in Maeson’s cottage, with the promise to replenish them later.
I’d never set a table this big, nor with such grand cutlery.
The fae ate with four-pronged forks, and had knives as sharp as daggers.
They made the two-pronged utensils in the human realm feel rudimentary and primitive.
Our dull, serrated knives were fit for harsher cuts of meat and unsalted blocks of butter rather than the finer dining options of this realm.
I took it all in, appreciating every moment, every exquisite chisel mark on the handle of each utensil, and the gold-stitched hem of each napkin that bore Calledan’s crest of the mountain range beneath a warrior’s helm.
The sun was just sinking behind the highest mountain peak in the distance when I finally took a step back and smiled at our work. Next to me, Sorscha smiled too, bright, and full of sharp teeth. She snapped her fingers and each goblet filled itself to the brim with a fizzing, golden liquid.
Near the doors, Wrynn stretched lazily from where she had been watching us all afternoon.
Her stretch quickly turned into a startled jump as the doors suddenly opened, and Silas strolled out, wearing a crimson-colored shirt I’d never seen, and a pair of tailored, dark brown pants.
I gave him a once-over and arched a brow.
“Velle was kind enough to bring some of my wardrobe back with her from the isles,” he explained.
“Red’s a pretty bold color for you, wouldn’t you say?” I teased.
“Matches my eyes,” he said, grinning as both his irises and the faint markings along his temples pulsed red on command.
I laughed. “Cool party trick.” I handed him a goblet and toasted him. “To being the first to arrive.”
He lifted the drink and nodded, then surveyed the table, humming with approval. “You put all this together yourself?”
“With Sorscha’s help.”
The Ancient Fae beamed from where she stood at the head of the table, barely visible behind the chair she peered around.
“By the way, Sorscha,” I called out to her, “I think you’ll find a rather appetizing surprise of your own upstairs.” I tossed her a smile and a wink. She gasped with delight, porting away, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“What’s the surprise?” Silas asked.
“An entire cake baked just for her, covered in sweet icing and sugar-coated fruit. It’s her favorite.”
He shook his head. “You two and your damn sweets.”
Before I could begin to argue to him that sweets were one of life’s greatest pleasures, the door opened again, and Maeson and Aremis stepped out. Wrynn launched into a fit of giddy fox chatter, prancing around their feet.
Maeson looked stunning. Her pale purple dress clung to her curves, and her long, red hair hung in loose, flowing waves. But despite the beauty she radiated, her eyes held a tinge of sadness.
Aremis held her arm in his, and he too seemed more solemn than usual.
All this work in figuring out how to rid himself of the Aether must have been taking a toll on them.
I longed to ask what they’d discovered, since we had yet to catch each other up on our comings and goings, but this was neither the time, nor the place for that. This was to be a happy evening.
Hopefully I could ensure that it would be.
“Auren, everything looks so lovely.” Maeson roved her gaze over the table, then slipped her arm from Aremis’s and pulled me into a hug.
I squeezed her back. “Enjoy yourselves tonight. We can worry about the world and all its problems come morning.”
She nodded and gave me a soft smile.
As soon as she let go, Aremis pulled me into an embrace. “Thank you for doing this. It is very much needed.”
“I’m glad you two could make it.”
The doors opened once more, and Roirdan and Nivelle emerged, followed by Remic and Niall, who were each carrying baskets.
Roirdan tugged me into his arms and lifted me off the ground as he hugged me. “So, the little one is the first to host a dinner on the patio.” He chuckled, then turned to address Niall with me still in his arms. “Why haven’t any of us ever thought of doing this?”
Niall grinned, handing his basket of what appeared to be fresh bread to Remic. “Because we’re old and set in our ways.”
“The path of complacency is the quickest to death,” Remic pointed out, placing the bread on the table.
“Charming,” Nivelle muttered.
“Put my mate down before my baser instincts kick in,” Niall warned his commander.
Roirdan finally did as Niall asked and patted my shoulders like he always did. “She’s all yours.”
Niall strolled up to me with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes and took my chin in his gentle fingers, tilting my face up for a kiss. His other arm slid around my waist, pulling my body to his. “Seeing you bring so much life to this place does something to me that I never anticipated.”
“Oh? What does it do to you, High Lord?” I murmured against his lips.
“Something that should only be spoken of in private.”
I blushed and pressed into him. “Tell me after dinner, then.”
“How about I show you after dinner?”
Warmth curled low in my core as his words lingered between us. “Can’t wait.”
We turned back to the others, who had taken to mingling around the table and debating over seats. Roirdan seemed to be adamant that Nivelle was to be seated next to him, not across. He even went as far as pulling out Nivelle’s chair. None of us could help our stares. Aremis raised a steep brow.
“What?” Roirdan asked. “You all are acting like chivalry is dead.”
“It was dead, for you,” Remic stated.
“Bullshit. I’ve always been considerate and respectful toward females.”
This time, Niall cocked his head, his expression calling the commander’s bluff.
Roirdan gave him a stern look that I imagined said something similar to, Quit giving me shit about it. For a brief moment, it looked as if Niall might have mind-walked to reply. When Roirdan’s nostrils flared, I knew Niall was, indeed, giving him shit.
I claimed the head of the table, and Niall took the chair opposite me.
Once everyone was situated, I stood, and spoke.
“I wanted to host this meal as a way for us to unwind and enjoy each other’s company.
For too long, I took family meals for granted.
It wasn’t until I found half the dining table permanently empty that I realized how much it meant to just share a meal with the ones you love.
” I couldn’t help the tears that welled in my eyes as I spoke.
“You all have become my family, and I will cherish every meal we have together, regardless of the finery or the occasion. I am grateful for each and every one of you, and I hope you know that.”
Smiles and nods circled around the table.
I raised my glass. “To family.”
“Family,” everyone repeated.
We ate and talked, and ate some more. Laughter filled the air—such a warm sound—and I wrapped myself in its embrace, capturing each smile in my memory.
It was often the small moments like this that held the most meaning.
The comfort that each grin held, the sincerity in every cackling laugh drawn out by a poorly delivered joke, the wisdom of some, and the tales of hundreds of years of life—all those things left their mark on me.
It didn’t have to be an extravagant ball, or a castle feast, to be memorable.
It was who I was surrounded with that made it worthwhile.
Down the table, Niall stared deep into my eyes, grinning with pride.
There’s something going on between Roirdan and Nivelle, he said into my mind.
I sipped from my glass. I was starting to grow suspicious of that myself.
I can smell it on them.
Smell what?
Their . . . indulgences.
I didn’t bother hiding the wrinkling of my nose. What does that even smell like to a fae? The way his mouth quickly tugged into a smirk made me wish I hadn’t asked. Actually, don’t answer that.
His deep laugh danced across my mind.
He had just glanced over to Remic, and was about to say something to him, when his head shot toward the north. He stood from the table, abruptly, his chair shooting back behind him. “Folquin—” he said, but the rest of his words were cut off by a clamoring near the patio doors.
There, collapsing into a heap on the ground as he materialized, was the spy. His chest heaved with harsh, broken breaths, and he groaned as he rolled onto his stomach, clutching his ribs.
Niall and Remic were at his side in an instant. The rest of us weren’t far behind.
“What happened?” Niall asked, trying to assess his spy’s physical state.
A pained sound crept up Folquin’s throat. “I got . . . caught.”