Harlin took a step back. “Please, come in.” He shut and locked the door behind them. “Here, let me take your cloak,” he said to Myriah as he lifted the wrap from her shoulders. He didn’t bother with Ferrin. Ferrin’s going-out attire consisted of a pair of dark leather breeches, a clean shirt, and a faded green vest his sister had purchased for him a few years back. He didn’t wear the vest much, only on special occasions when he was forced to endure the company of others.
“Most everyone is already here,” Harlin said as he pointed down the hall. “They’re in the parlor.”
Harlin offered Myriah his arm before Ferrin got the chance.
Ferrin ground his teeth and followed them down the hall. A thick maroon-and-gold runner ran down the center of the white marble tiles, providing a narrow walkway from one room to the next. They stopped momentarily in the entranceway of the second room on the right, a sign of etiquette to allow those inside to get a look at the new arrivals before entering. It was a sign of silliness, Ferrin thought.
The parlor was brightly lit and, like their host’s clothing, colorfully decorated. The floor had the same white marble as the hall, but the walls had been painted sea green. Ferrin could have fit his entire front room, kitchen, and half his smithy into Harlin’s parlor.
A warm fire crackled in the hearth on the right, something Ferrin would have normally enjoyed spending his time around, but at present, it was already occupied by the women on the council as they attempted to melt the chill from the night air.
The conversation in the room quieted as all eyes drifting in his direction.
Ferrin leaned in to Myriah. “Remind me again why I come to these things?”
Myriah smiled. “Because you love me.”
He sneered. “I must.”
His sister left him to fend for himself while she made her way over to join the other ladies around the hearth. Ferrin decided to sample the table of snacks on the right, meant to hold them over until the meal was served.
Myriah lost no time in getting caught up with the latest gossip while Ferrin stuffed a few baked cheese rolls in his mouth, followed by some spiced punch. He scanned the room for a friendly face and found Elson sitting in the corner with a full deck of cards. There was a batmyth board on the table in front of him, and he appeared to be waiting on an opponent. At the very least, Ferrin knew there was one person who would be willing to share his company, if only to show his aptitude for cheating.
Ferrin stuffed another roll in his mouth and refilled his glass before joining Elson for a few hands. He pulled up a chair on the opposing side of the table. Elson’s dark purple hat hung low over his eyes. It matched his purple-and-black striped jerkin. The hat seemed to be a favorite of his.
Elson smiled and shuffled the cards. “I’m surprised you made it this evening. After last month’s heated discussion, I figured we wouldn’t be seeing you back around so soon, if ever.”
“It’s not by choice, I assure you.”
Elson nodded and spared a quick glance in Myriah’s direction as he divvied out the cards. “Your sister is looking well.”
Elson always seemed to have a knack for picking up on things that others did not. He was very good at reading people, which no doubt lent to his uncanny ability to never lose at batmyth. One of these days, Ferrin was going to figure out how the man was cheating, but for the moment, he was simply glad for the company.
“She is managing. Not an easy task, keeping up with me, I’m sure.”
Elson smiled. It was a shifty sort of smile. In fact, everything Elson did seemed suspicious. He looked at things in a different way from the rest, very calculating. Ferrin figured he would have made a decent military tactician had he ever opted to join the rank and file of a soldier’s life. Given Elson’s excessive fondness for wine and cards, Ferrin doubted he would have lasted very long. Elson didn’t seem like a man who appreciated structure.
“It’s your turn.”
Ferrin glanced at his cards and sighed. It was going to be a long night. He was about to lay out his first set and move his piece on the board when an abrasive voice at the front of the room brought him around. Garreth.
Garreth sneered when he locked eyes with Ferrin. “What’s he doing back?”
Garreth was a carpenter by trade, and Ferrin’s largest rival on the council. Garreth had been very outspoken against Ferrin’s use of magic, claiming his recklessness would see them all locked away.
“Leave it be, Garreth,” Josten said, standing over the refreshment table. There was a slight slur to the shorter man’s words that spoke to the amount of punch he had already consumed. “No need to start the evening with harsh feelings. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of those by the time we’re through.” Josten hiccupped before raising his glass in Garreth’s direction. He quickly drained the contents and turned to refill it.
Josten might have been a borderline drunk, but he had a way with words that few others did. Apart from his overindulgence of strong drink, he would have made a remarkable negotiator. He was shorter than the others, with black hair that hung just above the shoulders, a thin jaw, and a sharp nose that held a pair of thin-framed spectacles that he always seemed to be looking over.
Lord Harlin glanced nervously between Garreth and Ferrin. He always strived to please everyone, but in the process usually ended up pleasing no one. He would have made a terrible negotiator. “I, uh . . . I think I’ll go see how the food is coming along.” Harlin was also a bit of a coward.
Ferrin shook his head and turned back to his game. He caught Elson studying him over his cards. “You got something to say?”
Elson shrugged, acting as though nothing were amiss, and rearranged the cards he was holding.
Behind Ferrin, the ladies’ conversation was picking up once again. He could almost feel Myriah’s eyes on the back of his head.
Ferrin and Elson had managed to make it halfway through the board before Harlin returned from the kitchens. “Dinner is served.”
“It appears luck was on your side this time,” Elson said with a sly wink.
Ferrin sighed and dropped his cards on the table. It was a terrible hand, after all. But as appalling as it was being outmaneuvered at every turn, he would have rather faced an entire evening of losses than endure what was coming next. The thought of sharing a meal under the punitive scowls of his peers was enough to curb his appetite.
Chapter 3
FERRIN WAITED FOR the others to clear the room before following. Myriah met him at the door and took his arm, letting him escort her down the hall and into the dining room, where an elaborate arrangement of tables and chairs had been set for their meal. The tables had been placed end to end to accommodate the twenty-odd members of the wielder council along with a few of their significant others. There were a couple of empty seats around the table where some of the members had not been able to attend.
Each table was gaudily decorated with linen cloths, bouquets of flowers, and candelabras. Harlin always took great care with the settings. Ferrin noticed their host casting furtive glances in their direction from the head of the table. The man was persistent; he’d give him that. Myriah offered a warm smile, which seemed to sate Harlin’s need for her approval, for now.
Thankfully, there were a couple of places open near the end of the tables. Ferrin held Myriah’s chair as she maneuvered her dress to find a comfortable position without rumpling the material. Elson took the chair directly to Ferrin’s right.