“The Praetor sent us to give a report to Prince Estevan, and we wanted to make sure Ruby’s grandmother was well.”
“How is Mistress Contos?” Dad asked.
“She’s fine,” Ruby said warmly. “We’re grateful the Herald’s offices were so sturdily built. They were able to shelter dozens of others from the Common Quarter as well.”
Mom tugged the end of her braid, her brows furrowed. “Draicia was hit badly, wasn’t it?”
The red-haired woman glanced behind her to the girl, then met Mom’s gaze. “There are many survivors, thankfully. But many did not find shelter in time, and many were past saving when the storm ended.”
The bespectacled girl scowled. “Many slum-dwellers, you mean. The clan-born survived just fine in their big, thick stone villas.”
Chloe looked up from pouring glasses of chrysos on a tray, her expression dark. “Astrid … are you saying the clans didn’t take in those without shelter?”
“Some clans did.” Lucien met his cousin’s eyes but reached a hand to his red-haired wife and pulled her closer to his side, as though reassuring himself that she was still there. “Not enough, though.”
“It’s Victory Day,” Dad said gruffly, taking the glasses of chrysos Chloe had poured and handing them out. “We won, and those monsters in the Badlands are gone for good. That’s worth celebrating, isn’t it?”
Ruby nodded and smiled at him, her warm, sunny disposition breaking the cold pall that had fallen on the room. “It is. Of course, it is.” She locked her free hand with Lucien’s, then raised her glass. “To clear skies and a new future.”
Chapter 45
By the time the sun had fully set, it seemed as if all Asylia was in our villa to celebrate Victory Day, including Prince Estevan and Princess Belle, sporting the least convincing disguises I’d ever seen. Kaia and Cole and their three, brown-eyed little ones had arrived with the royal couple. A large group of unattached Sentinels, looking uncomfortable in clean-pressed street clothes, came not long after, descending upon Ella’s cooking like muscular, tattooed wolves.
As the noise of children giggling and men talking filled the villa, I lost sight of Tavar and found myself in the front hallway, eating cake with Deacon, Corbin, and Eugene.
“Have you noticed how many guys are at this victory party?” Deacon said around a large bite of pink-frosted cake.
“I think it's because Corbin told everyone that Bri is friendly now. They want to see for themselves.” Eugene tossed back the last of his glass of chrysos, then belched. “Not sure why they would care about that,” he added, wrinkling his brow. “And I don’t appreciate having to share this spread with so many guys. They’re going to eat it all if we’re not careful. Whose birthday is it, anyway?”
Deacon gave Eugene a cool look, shook his head, and turned to Corbin. “Alba’s taken. Bri’s taken. Let’s go find a victory party with some unattached ladies, unless you’re a glutton for rejection like the rest of these boulder-heads.”
Corbin chuckled awkwardly, then paused. “Wait. Bri, are you taken?”
“Taken?”
“Yes.” Eugene rolled his eyes. “She’s been taken for a while, guys. Keep up.”
Deacon scratched his eyebrow. “You know, if you were mine, I wouldn’t let you stand alone in the hallway while another Sentinel asked if you were taken.”
“She’s not yours, which is why you’re not the one standing next to her dad and politely listening to stories of his glory days as a spy for King Anton.” Eugene gestured toward Tavar, who was on the far side of the parlor behind me, nodding dutifully next to Dad as my father gestured wildly with his hands, clearly excited about whatever story he was telling.
Deacon followed Eugene’s gaze, then laughed. “True.” He winked at me. “I’d listen to the commander’s stories for you, Briar Rose.”
“So would I.” Corbin’s jaw tightened. “But like he said, she’s taken.”
“I suppose she hasn’t said it yet,” Eugene said, nodding to me. “We’re just talking about her instead of asking her, but she’s right there.”
“Right. Just say it, then.” Deacon waved a hand to me. “C’mon, Bri. Put us out of our misery. Are you, or aren’t you?”
I had to hold back a laugh at his pleading expression. “We haven’t spoken much since we returned to the city, but …” I glanced over my shoulder at Tavar, then turned back. Might as well respond to Deacon’s directness with my own. “Taken barely covers it. My heart is completely his.”
“Fortunate man.” Deacon rolled his shoulders, a rueful smile flashing across his face before he glanced away. “I’m off, then.