our card game and wrinkled his forehead. “Who cares if he likes it?”
“Bri does, actually.” Mom darted across the kitchen and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re going to have to get used to it.”
I bit my lip, torn between confirming her words and not wanting to upset Dad. Alba tugged at my arm again.
Dad caught my eye and smiled broadly, his eyes crinkling as he pulled Mom in for a hug. “Fine, fine,” he said to me over her shoulder. “He’s a good one, Bri. Although I don’t think he actually cares what you wear.”
“We’ll just see about that,” Alba whispered to me as we went up the stairs together. “And I hope you’re ready to try some mage-craft makeup, because I brought home six boxes full of new makeup to replace everything the storm destroyed.”
I shook my head, still feeling overwhelmed but light and fluttery from the laughter that had just filled our kitchen moments earlier. “Might as well.” I paused when we reached our landing. “But you’ll have to show me how to use it.”
Alba beamed. “I’ve been waiting five years for this moment,” she said, dabbing at imaginary tears in her eyes. “Try and stop me.”
Chapter 44
The sun was dropping toward the golden skyline outside my window when Alba deemed us ready to make our grand entrance.
“I can’t wait to see your birthday cake,” she said, squeezing my arm. She linked our elbows and led me toward the stairs. “See it and then eat it. I bet it’s going to be Ella’s best one yet.”
My heartbeat felt skittery and light, and my ankles wobbled precariously in Alba’s heeled sandals on the top step of the stairs. “It’s not even my birthday,” I mumbled. “And if I fall down these stairs and never make it to the party, Tavar had better admire this dress on my unconscious body.”
“You won’t fall.” Alba’s tone was confident, but her grip on my arm tightened slightly as we descended. “Maybe you should have worn your own shoes—”
“Alba! Bri! Get down here!” Dad bellowed from the kitchen, then popped his head into the stairwell and grinned. “I knew you were coming,” he added in a quieter tone. “Just wanted to embarrass you in front of your young men.”
“Wow, thanks.” Alba narrowed her eyes. “Wait … Si’s here already? And you didn’t tell me?”
“Oh, yes. He’s been waiting around patiently in the kitchen, trading stories of the Badlands with your old dad—”
Alba released my arm when we reached the bottom step and sped into the kitchen, leaving me with Dad.
“You look lovely, sweetheart,” he said, then kissed my cheek. “Happy Victory Day.”
“Happy Victory Day.” I aimed for a cheerful tone but ruined it with the shaky, dry sound of my voice. “Tav here?”
“In the kitchen. Looking just as nervous as you.”
I released a short, involuntary laugh and swatted his arm. “I’m not nervous.”
“Oh, of course. Sentinels are never nervous.”
“Exactly.”
We entered the kitchen together as Alba and Si headed for the parlor, carried along by the noisy entourage of Si’s skinny, dark-haired younger brothers.
Tavar stood beside the kitchen table, a crisp, white shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, his dark-red hair combed and slicked-down. His eyes widened as he took in my appearance, and I found myself smoothing the lacy, pale-green fabric of my dress self-consciously.
Dad left me to greet guests in the front hallway, and Tavar approached. “You look so beautiful,” he said quietly, his throat jerking visibly as he swallowed. “You look like a dream.”
I leaned forward and kissed his cheek, inhaling the scent of winterspice soap and leather. “This feels like a dream,” I murmured. “I hope I don’t wake up.”
Tavar slipped his hands around mine. “It’s real.” He lifted my hands and kissed them, one at a time. “Did you feel that?”
I nodded, sensing my lips lifting into a smile. “I did.”
“Then it’s real.”
“Zel! We’re here!” A feminine voice called from the front door.
Tavar and I stepped apart as Mom whooped excitedly. “Is that Ruby?” She set down her plate and glass, then rushed to the front hallway. “And Chloe, and Lucien, oh, and Professor, you, too? How wonderful! Come in, come in! Happy Victory Day!”
The group entered the kitchen, first Chloe and Professor Kristof, then a red-haired woman—Ruby—beside a muscular, dark-haired man, and finally, a thin girl in wire-framed glasses trailed behind them.
“Lucien! I didn’t know you were in Asylia,” Dad said, greeting Lucien with a handshake. “Were you here during the storm?”
“We arrived yesterday,” the man said quietly.