An Affinity For Fire

46. Dallas

Dallas wasn't used to being the most sober person in a group.

After the fire, most of the guests and servants were either assisting in salvaging what they could from the ruin of the stables, rounding up runaway horses and half-breeds or preparing for an early night's sleep. Any left in the Great Hall were outrageously drunk, some so much so that they weren't even aware the fire had taken place. Others had been present at the fire and were drinking to alleviate the stress it had caused.

Malbaryn Lapisalis was in the latter category.

Dallas had to admit that he'd been impressed by the young man's quick thinking and calm demeaner in the face of Heleonne's potential death. What had become clear afterwards, however, was that all of that composure had been a flood wall holding back pure, unadulterated panic. The moment Heleonne had drawn that choked, guttural first breath, Bryn had stumbled away from the crowd and collapsed to his knees, his own breaths coming out heavy and rapid. Since no-one else had been in any rush to help him, Dallas had taken up the duty himself. He'd talked him through slowing his breathing, before offering that they have a few drinks to clear their heads. He was beginning to think that may have been a poor plan.

"I honestly can't believe it worked," The Ocassan prince slurred between gulps of wine. "They teach us to do that to save people from drowning, but I've never actually had to do it before, and I didn't know if it would work for smoke."

"Oh, don't be so modest," Levette purred, "I think it was extremely impressive." The young Aestasan servant, who was off duty since Prince Innis was asleep, had swarmed to Dallas after the fire, but had swiftly been distracted by Bryn. Not that Dallas minded. He wasn't sure he had the energy to share a bed with anyone.

Bryn seemed oblivious to the fact that she was almost on his lap. His attention was fixed on the glass, which he was filling and emptying at a rate that even Dallas would struggle to compete with if he was trying to get himself drunk.

"I'm just glad it was those stables," Bryn said, "and not the separate ones Onyx and the other kelpies are being kept in. I know that sounds like I'm being selfish, but trust me, you don't even want to think about the carnage loose, angered kelpies would cause. Seriously, they would be killing everyone." He shuddered, downing his half-full glass in one go. "This is rather good," he said, squinting at the empty glass in his wobbling hand.

Levette giggled, reaching for the jug, but Dallas grabbed it first, moving it out of her reach. She narrowed her black eyes it him in indignance. He shook his head, jutting his chin subtly towards Bryn. He doesn't need any more, he tried to communicate through his glare. He would never tell someone outright to stop. That would make him the greatest hypocrite in the realm. But there was a difference between passive acceptance and active encouragement.

Unfortunately, Levette was too drunk herself to recognise that difference. "If he likes it," she said, "he can have it." She leaned over him and wrestled the brass jug from his hand, sloshing half the liquid over the table in the process. Apparently, the spillage was hilarious, because both her and Bryn spiralled into hysterical laughter.

He was about to retrieve a tablecloth from one of the buffet tables to mop up the mess, when he spotted Calio approaching. She had changed out of her charred rags and into a casual, black, silk evening dress. Her right wrist was bare for once, but her left was wrapped in a bandage.

He pushed back his chair and rushed over to her.

"Are you alright?" he asked, eyes on her wrist.

"I'll live," she said, scraping loose, damp hair away from her face. "The fire's been completely extinguished, although Fates know where they're going to put all the horses, if they even manage to find them all. They've completely scattered. Anyway, how are you?"