it made her look absolutely stunning... if not intimidating.
“And you already know my brothers,” Rhys continued, waving a hand at the three young men leaning against the counter.
Duval, as usual, wore a tight-fitting suit under a long, flowing cape. He seemed in deep conversation with Lock and Onyx, and even though these two hadn’t gone as far as putting on a cape, they wore dark clothes that befitted their status as necromancers.
“Hi,” Tiffany replied, giving Rhys’s brothers a smile and a little wave.
This was Aurora’s family, and that meant her four brothers were semi-regulars at Hollow House. Tiffany would’ve liked for Aurora to be here—it would’ve been nice to have a close friend at hand—but she tried not to let that cramp her style.
“Would you like a drink, Tiffany?” Thersites asked her, smiling as he brought his crystal glass up to his lips. Swirling inside was liquor of a rich, deep crimson, the alcohol running in teardrops down the glass. “Port? Or perhaps something lighter?”
“Port is supposed to be for dessert,” Wisteria said, tapping her husband’s arm with one hand. She gave him a slight frown, but Thersites just shrugged. It seemed like, as far as his port was concerned, he didn’t mind switching things around.
“I’ll have what you’re drinking then.”
Tiffany gave Wisteria a nervous smile, feeling completely out of place. A cloud of multi-colored butterflies sprouted from under the locks of her black-dyed hair, danced around her head for a few seconds, and then disappeared when Tiffany swatted at them. When they popped out of existence, they exploded one by one, their fluttering wings suddenly replaced with a cloud of glitter.
“That’s... interesting,” Wisteria said, handing Tiffany a flute glass. She took a step away, as if afraid the young woman would suddenly transform into a tidal wave of glitter that would stick to her hair and skin.
“Sorry,” Tiffany said, swatting the glitter off her shoulders. “That happens from time to time. But butterflies are better than fluffy pink bunnies. Right?” She let out a nervous chuckle, silently praying for her magic to stop acting out. Not an easy thing to do, considering her whole life had been a maelstrom of bunnies, squirrels, and singing birds.
The Rhonelle brothers gave her an amused glance from the corner of the room, but Wisteria and Thersites smiled politely. Tiffany’s cutesy remarks still hadn’t warmed the couple up to her, but that was to be expected. At the end of the day, this was a family of necromancers, so warmth probably didn’t come easily for them.
Tiffany wasn’t about to let that stop her.
Even though necromancers were a tough crowd, she put her best efforts forward to charm her future in-laws. Whenever Thersites made a joke, she was the first to laugh—doing it so loud her voice filled the dining room—and she hung onto Wisteria’s every word. Soon enough, Rhys’s brothers had joined the fray. Tiffany pretended she didn’t see it, but Onyx kept elbowing Rhys while the other two snickered.
When they finally took their seats at the table, Wisteria started peppering her with a thousand questions. She answered each one as promptly as she could and, in between, made it a point to praise the food. Not a hard thing to do because it was all delicious—roasted duck with orange and a tasty hoisin sauce, mashed potatoes, and the finest red wine she’d ever tasted. Even her father, who was always stuffy about his wining and dining, would have approved.
“Tiffany, I’m curious,” Wisteria continued, a placid smile not quite reaching her eyes, “how would a clutch of pink bunnies look for a necromancer wishing to advance in the Judiciary?”
Tiffany laughed nervously. As happy as she was that Wisteria was taking an interest in her, had she been more self-conscious, all of the woman’s questions could’ve been constructed as criticism. That wasn’t the case here, though. After all, if Wisteria was wondering about Rhys’s career being affected by her pink bunnies, that surely meant she saw a future for them as a couple.
“That’s hilarious, Wisteria,” she answered with a smile. “You don’t have to worry. My magic can be pretty spontaneous, but I’ll make sure not to let any of my bunnies follow Rhys to work.”
She felt something fuzzy brush against her calf. A white bunny with droopy ears looked up at her. Using the tip of her foot, she shooed him away as gently as she could, hiding what she was doing with another nervous laugh. The nervousness clearly didn’t help because soon enough,