Nada's Escape: Fighters' lies

4.2 Luncheon

"It was lovely of Percival to organise the table and the food." Macie nods to her decrepit sponsor. My stare brushes past the honey wood table without expression, mapping the position of each Huntsmen.

The rest of the congregation sits in the sun outside the marquee at Seven's usual folding tables. I managed to score a seat far from Finley but unfortunately slap bang in-between Macie and Penny, leaving me eye to eye with the cold ceremony leader.

He pours me a glass of pink lemonade and I assess his hostage potential. He looks important, despite the creases in his shirt. Definitely one of the council. Perhaps we could ambush him when he goes to the loo... I ignore the gracious babble to my left and fake smile at the ceremony leader.

"Only if you have some." I try to match one of Macie's sickly-sweet smiles. His face retains a mask of disapproval but he lifts his glass in a half-toast before bringing it to his lips. That's right, keep drinking.

I try to catch Amy's eye from the tables behind him, but I only see the back of her head, her telltale blonde waves. I take a long gulp from the glass, refreshing against the heat beating down through even the marquee roof. Who decided to eat outside?

My gaze swivels to Percival, hunched in a chair at the head of the table. What we he do if we kidnapped the leader of ceremonies? Would he negotiate our release? Or would he just laugh and set the wardens on us? Just then his head tips back in a cackling laugh, showing me flashes of yellowed teeth.

"Nada!" Macie nudges me with her elbow, "For the third time, would you fill up Penny's glass? She's looking a little warm."

I grimace, gaze sliding over to Penny's plate, where her fork hangs motionless in her potato salad. No surprise there, she's staring across the table at Henry, who isn't even looking in her direction. Instead his hands jerk this way and that as he describes some fight to Finley. Finley's eyes meet mine and I flinch, grabbing for the jug and almost upsetting it on the chicken. Damn this luncheon.

I pour Penny her bloody pink drink and frown down at my plate. I can feel all their eyes on me, like the heat coming off the marquee roof, warming my head, making me sweat and I... I shove a forkful of chicken in my mouth, trying to chew through my anxiety. It doesn't work.

My traitorous eyes flick across the table again, and Finley notices the shift, tilting his head back to me. I wash the chicken glue down with more lemonade. The leader tilts his glass in salute of my discomfort, taking a long gulp of the stuff himself. Prick.

That's it. I rip the hat off my head and launch up from the table. My chair clatters to the ground behind me, filling a lull in their stupid conversations. Ignoring the stares of the courtyard, I glare at the useless dainty thing and storm off to the toilet block.

It's cooler here, which only makes my face feel hotter. But at least there's no one around to see it.

"Hey, you okay?" Amy asks from the doorway. She keeps her distance though, giving me space to pace back and forth.

"We're going to kidnap the leader." I tell her.

She bounces a little closer, "Really? We have a plan?"

"We do," I reply grimly, knowing I'm running on wrathful, but not really caring. "You and the fighters are going to set up the ambush in here. I'll follow him in when he comes to the toilet and wham. We'll need something heavy to-"

"I'm on it." Amy interrupts, "But how do you know he's even going to come here?"

Finally a wicked grin breaks through my fury. "I'm going to feed him lemonade til he bursts."

Amy grins back at my enthusiasm. "I like it. But why don't you just tip a plate of food on him?"

I laugh, movie scenes of spilled drinks flashing through my mind.

"You think that actually works?" I shake my head to discard the memories. "It's a good idea though. Solid backup."

Amy and I fist bump as we leave the toilets and Finley's gaze follows me all the way back to the table. I grit my teeth, mind clearing as I hone in on the plan. Finley's just another distraction.