These men were no fools. They had watched my eyes fall upon only six men. The guard was unmistakable in dress and stature, so there would be no question as to who stood among them. However, there would be a building curiosity to the identity of the seventh. I nodded toward the steward and service began. It was an incredibly brief speech, but there was more to come.
I stepped from the dais and took my seat at the head of the table to feast among the leaders of the north. The room was situated not as the dining area with its long, narrow tables, but with many short tables, arranged so that my slightly elevated position became the focus of the room, as well as the dais behind me.
Anvil had positioned the attendees in order of preference; two elderly men who had supported me throughout sat on either side, progressively going to less supportive, more troublesome, and downright dangerous from there. That meant most of the rogue clan leaders were across the room, and I avoided their stares as I was served. I raised my glass to the air and toasted, “The Seven,” before bringing it to my lips, the scent of oak and spiceberry hanging in wait. Rhys and Rider’s gazes took in those who did not join in.
A feast was served, and as instructed, the wine flowed at an increasing rate. Soon, the hall was loud with conversation, banter, and debate. Those near me, thanks to Anvil’s design, did not speak of much, so I was able to catch bits of various discussions throughout the room. In an attempt to disguise my focus, I let my eyes fall on the immense tapestries insulating the cool stone walls, most adorned with images of my crest and a variety of innocuous scenes, as Ruby had removed any in tribute to Asher. In truth, she had any evidence of him that could feasibly be removed taken from the grounds and burned. The largest part of the castle was pretty bare at the moment. But torches, candles, ridiculous centerpieces, and elaborate dishes seemed to be more than adequate cover, in this room at least.
The clansmen were more at ease, loosing their armor, shedding cloaks, leaning back in their chairs, sated with food, wine, and talk.
Sudden warmth against my palm stole my focus, the signal from Ruby. I looked down to find the napkin under my hand had caught fire, but I was able to snuff it out before anyone noticed. I would have to be more specific with the details next time.
I straightened in my chair just in time to see her enter. I gasped, but the slip went unnoticed in the noise. It was fortunate, as an instant later the hall fell silent. I’d nearly given myself away, but I’d not expected her to follow through so absolutely.
I gave them a moment to take in what I’d seen. A petite fairy, covered from chest to toe in slim black leather, arms bare but for wrist cuffs, belted with short, shiny knives, and donning the crest of the guard at her collar. The brown leather whip at her hip had been exchanged for polished black, with what appeared to be silver spikes at the tip. Her heeled boots were gone, as she’d laced into the flat guard issue. Her face was unpainted and impassive. All that remained of the familiar Ruby was the blazing red hair that curled feral around her, proclaiming her fey.
Before anyone had a chance to regain themselves, I stood, raising my glass to Ruby. “Now that we are all present, let the festivities begin.”
One more breath of stunned silence was all that remained before the hall erupted into anger, protest, and an assortment of exclamations of disbelief. I drank the toast, but didn’t see whether any of my guard partook, because my eyes were still on the fairy guard. She watched only me, not the crowd, and I smiled at her. I couldn’t help it.
So far, I thought I was off to a pretty good start.
Chapter Seven
Inferno
The room was near chaos. I had a feeling Ruby was happy.
I wasn’t sure how long to give the disorder before proceeding to the next step, but the display received a stronger reaction than I’d planned, and it was gaining momentum. Maybe we’d served too much wine. I sat, contemplating my next move, and the crowd seemed to settle a bit. One of the guests stood, and I realized they’d only quieted to hear his confrontation. With me.
I leaned forward in waiting, not surprised to find it was Rothus.
He was tall and broad, nearly as large as Anvil. His black hair was long, slicked back into a braid. He wore a cape of fur and a pegged mallet hung at his waist. He had plenty of magic, but he preferred blunt force. I nearly winced at the thought of what he’d likely done to the animal whose pelt covered his shoulders.
“You dishonor these grounds with a fey whore.”
Ooh, that would do it. I stood to meet his gaze. “You challenge my decision?”
All sound ceased but the flickering of torchlight.
Rothus was a prideful man who held grudges at his chest with no notion of release. He hated fey as they hated iron. What I didn’t know was whether he held that hatred above his current existence. The silence keyed him in on his mistake and he pushed his chair back to take a knee, but he didn’t exactly recant. “They have no place among us.”
“As you have no place to dispute the pronouncement of your lord.” I paused for a heartbeat, and then, “Guard, acquire your price.”