Thread of Darkness

Ch. 5: i'd like cake before someone gets stabbed

"Well," Penny said. "That was fun."

They were sitting at a long banquet hall table, groaning under a variety of dishes: cinnamon-spiced nuts; fresh, pillowy bread; green peas swimming in butter; and Eris's favourite, a cut of fresh steak, so raw that it oozed blood onto the white plate. Next to her, Tristan speared a maple-butter carrot.

"You can't deny," he said, "that your brother has a flair for the theatrical."

She shrugged. "Runs in the family."

"Pity about the hat," Tristan continued, cutting the carrot into pieces. "It looked like Gongonian silk. Do you know how much that costs?"

"Somehow," Penny said wryly, "I think that was the least of my cousin's concerns."

She smiled as she thought back to Eris's face as Ryne's arrow had struck his hat, pinning it to the wall. He'd looked like a cat dropped in water. It was brilliant.

Still, Penny thought, reaching for a candied nut, Ryne could have been a little more inconspicuous about the whole thing. She knew what people had seen: a young, unstable king firing an arrow at his courtiers. There had been whispers about Ryne's illness; now, there would be shouts.

And they couldn't afford shouts.

Not now.

A flash of movement caught her eye.

Penny looked up at the alcove above the banquet hall just in time to see the flash of a skirt disappearing behind a wrought iron railing. Teagan, perhaps. Or one of the other courtier children. She could recall hiding there herself once, babbling made-up stories while Isaac listened on with polite, feigned interest. Ryne had ignored her to eavesdrop on the visiting dignitaries. Camille had brought a book.

Giggles sounded from upstairs, followed by muffled shushing. Penny hid a smile as she helped herself to another candied nut.

She wondered if Teagan had greeted her older brother yet. Probably not, Penny decided, biting into the bread roll; anyone that chose to hug to Eris was either foolish, stupid, or incredibly brave. It was like trying to wrap your arms around a wriggling snake.

"He looks better," Tristan murmured. "Don't you think?"

He didn't need to specify who. Penny glanced up at the front table, where Ryne was calmly cutting up a piece of wild game. Camille leaned over to say something, toying with the necklace at her throat, and Ryne nodded. Some of the colour had gone from his cheeks, and he looked tired and drawn.

"For now," Penny agreed.

"Do you know...?" Tristan's eyes were on his carrots. "Can you tell if he's still feeling ill?"

"Ryne's always ill."

Tristan gave her a look. Penny sighed. She concentrated on the table, wincing slightly as the emotions slipped through. Camille's uneasiness, bright and sour as lemon peels; Eris's impatience, which felt like static prickling her skin. And Ryne. Her older brother always felt the same to her: peppery, dark, with an edge of something like burnt toast. She'd never figured out exactly what it was.

"He's fine," Penny said. "Well, I'm not sure if he's fine, actually, but he's back to normal. No more shooting arrows at people."

"Pity," Tristan muttered, his eyes on Eris.

"Couldn't agree more." She shrugged, reaching for another candied nut. "Maybe we can convince Eris that there's treasure at the bottom of the moat. Camille once told me that some of the fish are carnivorous."

Tristan sighed. "We should be so lucky."

Penny closed her eyes, biting into the hearthnut; it was roasted and sweet, and it tasted like the castle at First Frost, when everything was aglow with candles and firelight. She'd read about nuts that morning, actually. Their healing properties. What was it again? Hearthnuts have medicinal properties that can act as a pain-relief agent... something, something...