Chapter Six
Austin lay curled on his side, pretending he hadn’t heard the knock.
Faint light still shone through the green window glass, so he couldn’t have been asleep for more than a few hours, but that had been long enough for his muscles to seize.
He’d transformed into the creaking old man Cessair had feared becoming.
The knocking came again. A polite, unsure patter on wood. Austin doubted the merman would knock like that.
Though Austin could hardly bear the thought of moving, he dragged himself from the bed, pulled on the oversized robe hanging from the privacy screen, and shuffled to the door. He’d never make the return swim to Liam in this state.
A young man stood there with his hands clasped behind his back, a troubled furrow in his brow.
Dark-chestnut hair curled around his ears, bangs held back by little clips of tarnished silver.
He stood silent as Austin studied him top to bottom.
He wore scuffed leather boots, and when Austin’s gaze lingered there, faint pink rose over the tops of the young man’s cheeks.
“I was rushing. I didn’t have time to change clothes. I’m Eli, I’ve been sent to attend you, if you’ll have me”—he flashed an entreating, nervous grin—“and I have been sent with clothes.” He gestured to a rack stuffed with clothes just behind him. “May I come in?”
Austin moved aside, and Eli jumped into action, wheeling the clothes in and doubling back for a crate that he set down on the bed.
“This mostly came from the palace stores, and we were only told your rough size, so you might need to try a few things on. Of course, I can tailor anything to your exact size”—he said this very quickly—“but I won’t have time before dinner. ”
Austin pulled out a hanger, squinting to make out a pair of indecently short shorts.
“Is this a joke?”
“No! Sir, I didn’t even pack the clothes, I just snuck—stepped in after my lessons. Let me see.”
Eli turned his gaze to the clothes like someone also seeing them for the first time.
Together, they looked through short shorts and shirts that ranged from see-through to indecently shaped, with swooping cuts that would leave either his front or back entirely exposed.
Austin’s eyes quickly tired and began to ache trying to distinguish shapes in the mass of pale silk. The room wasn’t bright enough.
“I may as well wear this robe.”
“Here!” Eli pulled out a pair of shorts that would fall to mid-thigh and weren’t see-through. He set those aside and then returned with eagle eyes, plucking something opaque from a grouping of pale blue silk in the middle.
Austin studied the long-sleeved shirt at length. On closer inspection, the shirt had half sleeves. Half in the sense that the silky fabric would drape down the underside of his arm once on, held in place by delicate silver chains.
Austin supposed it was better than the robe.
Eli made an approving sound and set the long shorts and chosen shirt aside. He flicked open the chest and pulled free elaborate body chains, made from either sparkling silver or shining gold, set with matching jewels. The sheer shirts made sense, Austin supposed, to show off the jewellery.
“These two would suit best,” Eli said, holding up two silver-chained contraptions.
The one on the right was clunky, its large rocks and gems weighty and ostentatious.
The one on the left caught his eye before he’d completed his dismissive gesture.
The delicate silver chain was interspersed with some blue jewel that Austin had never seen before.
He approached, giving the chain a small shake, and the silver and blue gems sparkled like starlight.
An approving noise left his mouth before he could help it.
Austin reluctantly dropped his hand. “No. You won’t see it beneath the shirt anyway.”
Eli nodded and put them away. Sitting atop the chest of jewellery was a fist of vibrant green.
“What is that?” Austin asked.
Eli carefully took it out. “A choker, with quite a sizeable emerald.” His dark eyes lingered on the jewel, something hungry in the gaze. The look vanished when his eyes flicked to Austin. “Do you want to wear it?” It was the flattest his voice had been.
At Austin’s glare, Eli let out a breath of relief and placed the huge emerald back in the box. “Thank goodness, it wouldn’t suit you at all. Er, not that you wouldn’t be able to pull it off, just that—”
“It’s hideous.”
Eli’s lips pursed. “As a piece of jewellery, yes. As a symbol of money and status? It has some worth there. And monetary worth, too. You could host gladiator games, and if that were the top prize, you’d have one hell of a competition.”
“There are fights in the city?” Austin asked.
Eli’s contemplation snapped away. “Of course not. Prince Hal doesn’t allow that sort of thing.
But it isn’t banned in his territory. Every decently sized city hosts games; they’re quite popular, especially since there’s so many races that live near here.
People pay a lot to see them fight.” He brightened too abruptly. “Shall I plait your hair?”
Austin changed into the clothes first, then sat as Eli carefully ran a comb through his silver-blond hair.
Despite his hunger headache, Eli managed to make it feel pleasant.
Even the plaiting part, not catching a single strand in a pinch.
It reminded Austin of the care Liam had taken when taking scissors to Austin’s hair, trying to fix the mess that the scientists had made when taking “samples”. He’d even cut neat layers, too.
Eli pinned his hair and knelt to lace sandal straps up his calves, careful and meticulous. Silver smudges on Eli’s hands caught Austin’s eye, but it was too dark to tell whether they were scars or stains.
“If you can plait like that, there’s no reason you shouldn’t be able to tailor clothes.”
On his knees, Eli froze. His eyes flashed up, guilty before he’d even answered. “I said I can tailor clothes.”
Austin said nothing.
Pink spots coloured the tops of Eli’s cheeks again. “I’m smart and good with my hands. I pay attention, and I can tell you more about what’s going on in Prince Tristan’s estate than any of the other attendants the palace could send.”
“And why’s that?”
“They know Prince Hal’s court, and all his politics—which I know too—but they have no interest in Prince Tristan’s fighters.
Beyond knowing Captain Inx or Secretary Char, they haven’t a clue.
But I already know where half of the men here came from, where they learned to fight and from who, and I promise by the end of the week, I’ll know the other half.
” Eli’s eyes gleamed with determination and desperation.
Austin stood. “I didn’t say I was going to swap you out, did I? You said dinner’s waiting? Lead the way.”
Eli leapt to his feet. “Yes, sir.”
“Don’t call me sir.”
Cessair was always called “sir”.
“Yes…merman?”
“Austin.”
Despite Austin’s tone, Eli’s expression brightened. “Austin,” he repeated. “The dining room is this way.”
Austin paid more attention to his surroundings as Eli led him through the trellis-roofed paths between buildings.
Grey flagstone wound between squat, shadowy buildings—Austin counted a dozen or so—leading to a giant multi-storied building and a large courtyard.
Wide double doors were invitingly open, and Austin let out a relieved breath at how well lit it was.
As they stepped inside, Eli scuttled to the wall and stood there with others dressed in similar plain clothes, except they had sandals where Eli wore boots. They all stole glances at Austin. He feigned ambivalence.
A dark wood dining table was the main event of the room.
Candles and glowing blue stones threw off an abundance of light, illuminating the occupants seated around it.
A woman dressed in silks of peach and tea green caught candlelight in the folds of her dress, the old man opposite absorbing it in dark-grey clothes.
Another man had insect-hide gauntlets covering his forearms, but on second look, they seemed to actually be part of his arms. A coat of vibrant blue was carelessly cast on the back of his chair, a black canvas shirt half untucked from dark cotton trousers.
Austin’s gaze was drawn to the merman. Tristan sat at the far head of the table and trailed an openly admiring look down Austin’s body that gave him pause. The man had seen Austin naked on the beach, but there had been no such heat in his eye then.
Court fashion? Attraction was stirring because Austin now looked the part of someone with status? Someone he’d find desirable?
An odd tension clung to Austin’s skin as the silence stretched into seconds. All eyes were upon him, a specimen under a microscope. The old man’s eyes flitted to Tristan with a silent query that went unanswered, and when he turned back, his lips parted.
Austin strode forward, forcing his body to move as if it felt not even an ache. He ignored the spot to Tristan’s immediate right, set with cutlery, and claimed the nearest chair instead: the opposite head of the table.
All looked to Tristan, even the shadowy staff, as if there was about to be a fight.
Tristan was oblivious to them, too busy studying the way the delicate silver chains on the shirt sleeves draped down Austin’s arms. Austin reached out and took the empty wine glass of the man to his right—Tristan watched his wrists closely—and Austin cut a sharp look to where a shadow stood with a black shape he guessed, hoped, was a bottle of wine.
She rushed forward and filled his glass.
Red liquid swirled in the glass, the strong smell bringing back memories of the many binge-drinking weeks he’d fallen into over the past few years.
He sipped the wine, weighing up the wisdom of undertaking another one now.
Perhaps his problems might magically solve themselves a week from now, if he could borrow another’s luck.
With his own, the opposite was likely to happen.