Chapter 14
CAPITAL CITY
Torches light the way as I follow the sound of laughter coming from down the hall. Tane, Evander, and Mina are already waiting in the throne room.
“Hey,” Mina calls. “Are you coming with us?”
Her tight, strapless, emerald dress resembles mine, and I feel at ease about my choice now.
Her short bobbed hair is curled and shows off her long, slender neck.
The guys are dressed in black jackets and matching black pants.
Their outfits are almost modern-looking except for the shiny black thread embroidered on the sleeves in runes.
The thread is so delicate that you can barely see it until the light hits it just right.
“Yeah, Mathilda invited me. Is that ok?” My insecurities overtake the confidence I felt walking down here. Mina grabs my hand and pulls me towards her.
Her smile is lethal. “Of course! Now we can show you some real fun.”
“Oi, don’t scare her off, it’s only a bit of dancing,” Tane throws my way.
“We’re going dancing?” I ask, my eyes bulging.
“Drinks, dinner, and dancing,” Evander answers.
My swallow is audible, and everyone chuckles.
Tane whispers to me, “It’s not torture, just a night out.”
It would be pretty pathetic of me to tell my new friends that I’ve never danced before besides in the kitchen with my parents, so I nod and try to will calmness into my sweating palms.
Mathilda rounds the corner into the throne room, and the group cheers. Mina is the loudest. “She’s only a few minutes late!”
I get the feeling they do this a lot, and I try to find my place in the group. I follow along, smiling and clapping for Mathilda. They are a tight-knit group, a family.
Mathilda gives a mocking curtsy before throwing her arms over mine and Mina’s shoulders. “Alright, let’s go have some fun!”
We meander down the steps and head into the city instead of flying down.
Tane and Mathilda bicker over which restaurant has the best “welcoming” feel for my sake and ultimately lead us to the one Mathilda picked in the West district.
The restaurant is a little cottage on the main road in the city.
There are tables out front and lights strung from the building across the seating area and into the trees.
It reminds me of the whimsical lights Lachlan set up for family dinner—our last dinner together.
I feel the faint stirrings of homesickness.
The sun has set, but the streets are teeming with life, full of people coming and going through the shops and restaurants. The smell of the food from the restaurant we chose makes my mouth water. A waiter, an older man with a kind face, approaches us, all smiles and welcome.
Evander calls, “The usual Carlo, plus one extra plate, please.”
Carlo studies my face for a moment. I can see the realization dawn, and he places a hand on his heart, bowing lowly. With a slight Italian accent, he says, “Welcome.”
My cheeks catch fire at the sentiment, and I bob my head in return. “Thank you.”
While we wait for our food, I try to follow the conversation around me, but my mind wanders to Lachlan, wondering what he might be doing and if he misses me as much as I miss him.
A waiter walks by with a plate of bread stuffed with meat, cheese, and arugula.
Homesickness continues to make my chest ache, only now I’m left feeling lost all over again.
Mathilda must sense my discomfort and nudges my shoulder. “You ok?” she asks, frowning.
“Yeah, I just—just was thinking of my family back home,” I say dejectedly.
Mathilda’s smile is understanding, but she nods towards the table where our group is discussing the merits of flying versus Luna’s traveling. I refocus on the conversation at hand.
“Wait, what do you mean she disappears and then reappears somewhere else? Like teleportation?”
My mind is completely blown that something like that is even possible.
Tane responds, “We call it traveling, but yeah, she just poofs and then she’s somewhere else. It’s wild.”
The group agrees, and I ask, “Does everyone have powers?”
Mina smiles and says, “The Valkyries do. I can move things with my mind, Elowen can see visions, Odessa can create shields out of thin air, and—” she cuts off.
Mathilda jumps in. “And I’m very strong,” she says nonchalantly.
Tane rolls his eyes. “That is an understatement.”
Carlo drops off plates of pasta and bread.
My mouth waters from the smell of garlic, parmesan, and butter.
Our conversation halts as we begin eating.
The sounds of glasses clinking and forks scraping against the plates are the only sounds for several minutes while we inhale our food.
Carlo comes back later with glasses of red wine that are promptly accepted and gulped down.
Mathilda offers me a glass with a warning, “This is really strong, so prepare yourself.” She winks as she hands it to me.
The dry, fruity flavor is the perfect companion to the buttery garlic of the pasta, and I savor every sip and bite.
Tane is the first to break the silence. “I don’t know how we’re gonna dance after this. I want to lie down.” He pats his stomach for emphasis.
Mathilda rolls her eyes. “Whatever. You say that every time, and every time we have to drag you off the dance floor.”
Evander tosses a few gold coins on the table when we leave, and we all wave goodbye to Carlo.
The night sky is now adorned with millions of sparkling stars, their brilliance outshining the flickering flames of the street lanterns.
Music drifts from doors opening and closing, mingling with the sound of laughter that carries onto the street as we head out.
The tavern we approach has its doors flung wide open, the music spilling onto the street in front of the blue building.
The breeze causes the sign to sway, and “The Poppy,” painted in bright red, greets us as we walk beneath it and step inside.
There’s a band on stage playing lively tunes while people dance on the crowded dance floor. A bar runs the length of one of the sides, and the barstools are full of people drinking and talking.
“Let’s grab a table at the back,” Mina yells as she pulls me with her to the back table that’s surprisingly vacant.
Evander offers to grab us drinks, and Tane stays to help him while Mathilda follows us to the table.
The tavern is loud, the music melding with the conversations and laughter.
I can’t help but absorb the happiness in the air on the way to the table, my grin stretching wide across my face.
The three of us pile into the corner booth in the back while we wait for the guys. The music slows to a halt, and the dancers flee the dance floor to find beverages to quench their thirst during the break.
The table next to us is full of hulking men in kilts, their melodic accents hinting at Scottish ancestry.
My mind instantly drifts to Lachlan again.
Everywhere I go, I’m reminded of him. Homesickness churns like acid in my stomach, threatening to ruin my good mood.
I overhear part of their hushed conversation.
“She closed all the training grounds and most of the blacksmiths,” the larger one in the middle complains. The others nodding in agreement. The man who spoke makes eye contact with Mathilda. He freezes, but she gives him a slight nod, and he resumes his conversation.
I lean forward and whisper, “What was that about?” Mina shakes her head and scans the room.
But Mathilda leans closer to whisper back, “Do you remember the council meeting?” I nod. “Remember how Artemisia asked for the training grounds to be reopened, and Odessa said no?” she whispers, but there’s a glimmer of malice in her eyes.
“Yes. Is that what they’re talking about?”
“Idirhalla is a realm of warriors. Our purpose here was to fight for the Father in the Great War. We need the training grounds,” she replies, determination set in her jaw.
Odessa’s request from after the council meeting echoes in my ears: “Don’t undo all my plans.”
“But there’s not going to be a war. Why do you still have to train?”
“Is there not going to be a war?” she asks, her eyes beseeching mine.
“Odessa said that Odin left because there wasn’t going to be one …” Mathilda’s eyes begin blazing. “You think there is going to be war?”
“Have there not been signs that say war is coming?” she asks, studying me intently.
I realize I can’t answer that either, because I don’t know. My necklace turns cold against my skin. A warning. What do the signs of war even look like? I stare back into her eyes.
She continues scanning my face, looking for something, before she sighs. “Ask yourself this instead: if the warriors want to continue to train, why even stop them?”
I had asked the same thing once and was met with a non-answer.
The band on stage picks up their instruments when a tall, lanky man with long, curly hair walks through the crowd and hops onto the stage. Cheers erupt, and even Mathilda claps excitedly. “You’re in for a real treat, Lena!” she squeals.
The man is unassuming, his skin fair, hinting towards Irish ancestry, and his eyes are a striking blue.
But as he lifts his hand, a hush falls over the entire place.
The guitarist hands him his guitar, and the anticipation in the room pulses.
Everyone is deathly quiet, straining to hear him.
He clears his throat, and I scoot to the edge of the booth to get closer.
He begins singing, his voice so soulful and rich that my skin erupts in goosebumps. I’m swept away by the poetry of the lyrics as he croons about a swan trapped on a lake. The song evokes the emotional imagery of a familiar love story.
The ominous mood is swept away by the powerful music. I nod along to the lyre and drums, the music filling my heart with the urge to dance and sing. The song finishes, and the crowd erupts in applause. The man bows and steps off stage, taking his calm but commanding presence with him.