Chapter Twenty-Three #3
The Ember Guild is also to attend. Evidently, Penn’s role as King of Dyved and Remnant of Fire is enough to warrant a place at the table. And where he goes, so do his men.
“When does it start, again?” Mabon asks.
“In two hours,” Cadogan says.
Jac waggles his brows suggestively. “Just enough time to give the newlyweds a chance to consummate.”
I shove him. “Don’t be crass.”
“Just trying to fit in with the Hylians. The things we saw at those pleasure clubs of theirs…”
I hold up a hand to stop his words. “I do not need to hear about it.”
“You’re blushing,” Cadogan informs me.
“So are you,” I retort, noting the stain of pink on his high cheekbones. “Don’t tell me the least romantically inclined member of the Ember Guild finally had his head turned by someone last night?”
Cadogan’s blush increases. “That’s absurd.”
“Your face does not match your words.”
Mabon snorts. “She’s got you there.”
“Let’s just say, we crossed paths with the siren sisters.” Jac is grinning hugely as he elbows Cadogan in the gut. “He’s as hot-blooded as the rest of us under all that stoicism. Who knew?”
“Elbow me again,” Cadogan hisses, still red as a beet, “and you will find yourself taking a swim in the nearest canal.”
Jac appears unconcerned. “Perhaps a siren will pull me out.”
“I think Melité might be more inclined to drag you to the depths,” I warn.
His sigh is dreamy. “But what a way to die…”
“Ah!” Farley cries suddenly, hand flinging out toward the other side of the harbor. “I think I see a tavern over there! If we hurry, we can beat the crowd to the bar.”
“Do you ever think of anything except fucking, feasting, or falling down drunk?”
Farley shoots Cadogan an exasperated look.
“Do you ever think of anything except battle formations? We are at a wedding, for gods’ sake.
Forgive me if I do not plan to squander this brief reprieve from sleeping on a bedroll, freezing my bollocks off by the North Sea, waiting for Frostlanders to attack in the night. ”
“He has a point,” Mabon puts in quietly. “We might as well enjoy our leave. Our ship heads back to Dyved tomorrow.”
My heart sinks at the deadline. I still have not decided whether I will be on board with them.
“Enough of this back-and-forth,” Jac declares. “I’m in charge, and I’ve decided we have time for a round or three before the feast.”
Mabon scoffs. “Why are you in charge?”
Ignoring him, Jac slings an arm around my shoulders and squeezes. “What do you say, Ace? Will you show us your new stomping grounds? For old times’ sake?”
I mull it over for a beat, then shrug. “Oh, why not.”
We head off in search of refreshments. I can’t help smiling at their expressions as they take in the undeniable splendor of Hylios.
The sun is shining down, warm and bright, bathing the white stone buildings that line the canals, refracting off the domed blue rooftops.
Colorful flowers explode from every facade, their vines bursting with fresh blooms.
I bring them first through the floating market by flatboat, laughing as they sample imported delicacies from places none of us have ever heard of—Cadogan choking on a shrimp skewer in his haste to swallow, Mabon’s face screwing up in a horrified mask as I explain the cracker he’s just consumed is made from dehydrated sea lion testicles.
Even our hired sternman chuckles as the fearsome Ember Guild warrior spews over the side.
My spirits soar higher as we disembark by a busy tavern I visited several days ago with Yara, Thisobei, and Vaughn.
The proprietor has a stake in Vintners’ Cove, and serves the best wine in the city.
Every table is filled with happy Hylians, all drinking and smoking from long-hosed braziers, but we manage to carve out a space to stand by the bar with a view of the canal.
It does indeed feel like old times, albeit with a few glaring exceptions. Uther’s absence among us is a blow that still takes my breath away.
As is Penn’s.
He did not come to the wedding. I can feel his presence through the bond, not so very far away, so I know he is still in the city somewhere. Surely he will make an appearance at the feast…If not to celebrate the couple or speak to me, then to revisit his plans for a southern invasion with Soren.
I sip my wine, reminding myself that the complexities of my personal relationships pale in comparison to the other decisions that will be made during this royal assemblage. For by the end of it, Dyved and Ll?r will remain allies in arms or fracture irrevocably apart.
I cannot predict that outcome any more than I can predict my own future. And so, for a time, I allow myself the chance to drink and laugh with my friends, shored up by their tales of campaigns on the northern coast, of clandestine missions through Cimmerian snow.
I’ve missed them.
Gods, I’ve missed them.
Just as I will now miss people here if I set sail tomorrow…
I think I do a good job of smiling and laughing. Feigning normalcy, despite the tumult inside. But every so often, I’ll catch Mabon’s dark eyes on the side of my face, or see the way Cadogan’s pale blond brows furrow with concern, and I know they are not entirely fooled by my act.