Senator suggests mildly. Everyone laughs at the vulgar suggestion.
“A dancer?” The light in Gabrien’s eyes turns teasing. “I wouldn’t be surprised. She’s very lovely.” His smile widens at me. “You’ll have to show us.”
Does he really mean for me to dance for them? I hesitate, and at my pause, the Senators laugh harder. I stay very still, trying to understand the joke.
“I’m bored,” Pira announces, irritated at the conversation. She tilts her head at Tomm. “Can’t we get something to eat?” Tomm just waves her off, his face still turned eagerly in Gabrien’s direction, as if for approval.
“She hasn’t said a word,” the Senator from earlier chimes in again. “She probably doesn’t speak Maran. Perhaps we should go find your brother, Senator Gabrien.” She waves a flippant hand toward the rest of the courtyard. “He speaks other languages, doesn’t he?”
There’s an edge to the way they talk without greeting me, a cruelty in the smiles they wear. Years of facing Ghosts at the warfront with my blades and guns and daggers, and yet the sharpest teeth are still here, on the grounds of the National Hall, where I have no weapons to defend myself. My hands clench and unclench helplessly at my sides. I can feel myself caving inward, feel them turning my silence into a weakness. While I fight for them at the warfront, they have their banquets and celebrate a losing war and taunt me, not realizing there will be a day when their world will suddenly collapse.
“Excuse me.”
Red’s deep, grit-rubbed voice makes me turn in surprise. I’d been so focused on the interaction happening before me that I hadn’t noticed our bond sharpen and clear at his approach. His accent isn’t bad. How long had he practiced saying that Maran phrase? He stops at my side and gives the nobility a single nod. Gone is the feverish, bloodied, frightened young man I’d sat beside at the warfront. His steel wings are hidden tonight beneath an elaborately embroidered black robe trimmed with shimmering yellow silk and dyed yellow fur, but even then, I notice that the back of the robe has been tailored with two trimmed slashes to allow his wings to unfold. Underneath it is a white silken shirt woven so fine that I can’t see the threads. His expression is calm and bemused tonight, and his strange air of confidence suddenly makes me aware of how handsome he is.
Even if I could speak, I’d be at a loss for words. The only thing that breaks my stare is the sight of his mouse perched on his shoulder, munching on a bit of grape.
The Senator next to Gabrien makes a startled noise at seeing Red’s pet, then clears his throat in embarrassment as he eyes the banquet tables, wondering whether other mice are scampering amid the food.
I’m sorry, Red secretly says to me through our link. Is it considered rude to bring rodents to a Maran party?
I lift an amused eyebrow at Red. He just shrugs, but the edge of his mouth lifts too.
Before me, the nobles’ taunting banter quiets as they stare at him in stunned silence. Tomm’s and Pira’s sneers drop. Even Gabrien’s smug smile fades under the hard eyes of the Skyhunter. The sight of the blood draining from his face sends a quiver of satisfaction through me.
Red doesn’t bother to wait. He gives them a bow of his head so deep and proper that I immediately know it’s sarcastic, and then pulls me from their group and ushers me down the corridor. I find myself feeling grateful for the now-familiar heat of his hand. Every conversation around us fades away. Behind us, the Senators exchange shocked whispers.
“That’s him,” one says. “The prisoner from the Federation!”
“The Skyhunter?”
“Yes. He’s the one who massacred the entire Federation offensive at the warfront!”
Red gives me a sidelong look. I thought you could use some help, he says to me through our link.
I don’t know whether to feel relieved for his help or annoyed at his comment. You could have said something to me through the link, warned me you were coming.
I didn’t want to disrupt you during such a tense exchange.
Suddenly I remember that he can tell when I’m angry or anxious, that he must have known how the Senators’ conversation made my heart contract. Can he also sense the way I’d admired his evening look? The thought burns my cheeks. Have you been to formal events before? I ask instead. You seem so comfortable here.