Page 98 of A Crown of Deceit & Ruin

As they entered the castle, Micah was rambling, telling her something about how they should go to the soaking pools sometime so he could teach her how to swim.

But Kestrel could hardly hear him.

All her thoughts—all of her being—was back at the fountain.

Back with Elora.

It was her delicate scent that lingered most of all. Even as they passed by torchlit sconces and burning oil, all she could smell was Elora. Like a lone, white petal flower kissed with dew, blooming in a moonlit meadow. There was nothing that smelled so enchanting back home. And Kestrel was certain if she scoured the farthest reaches of Grimtol, explored every inch of land, she would never find a scent that rivalled its elegance or allure.

But every time she started to smile at the thought of being so close to her, the feeling was soured by the cold stab of the abrupt rejection that had followed.

Micah had come outside, and Elora had wrenched away.

Just like Leighton had.

Like they were both embarrassed by the thought of being seen with her.

Kestrel wrapped her arms around herself.

“Are you even listening to me?” Micah asked, bumping against her with his shoulder. “Did you hear a word I just said?”

“Hmm?” Kestrel’s ears twitched and she wrenched herself to the present, leaving all memories of Elora at the fountain where they belonged. “Oh, sorry. What were you saying?”

He rolled his steel blue eyes but answered anyway. “I said, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Princess Elora speak to anyone like that. Not willingly anyway.”

“Oh.”

When that was her only response, he added, “Come on. What’s your secret? Were you holding her hostage or something?”

Kestrel’s arms squeezed tighter, the chill of the night air still piercing. “Something like that.”

Micah groaned. “Okay, little miss mopey. I know what you need. A good meal, some exquisite company—as well as the mediocre company of my brothers; sorry, this can’t be helped—and perhaps a jaunty tune.”

“What’s a tune?” she asked, just as they reached the dining hall, and he threw the doors wide.

Kestrel was pulled in by the hearty waft of vegetable stew that seemed to wrap around her. Yet again, the meal displayed on the table was unlike anything she could’ve even dreamed, more food than she had seen in an entire month, or more.

But this time, before her stomach could guide her into grabbing a number of tasty baked treats, something else tantalized her senses. A rhythmic, pleasant sound that she knew immediately but had never had the pleasure of experiencing before.

Music.

At the end of the long table, a young man perched one leg upon a chair as he strummed a wooden instrument with strings. Leighton, Efrem, and the young man were singing, chanting so jubilantly, none of them even noticed Micah and Kestrel’s entrance at first.

Micah abandoned her at the door to run over to Efrem. He grabbed him around the thighs and hoisted him into the air, all while joining in on the upbeat song.

Kestrel grabbed one of the pastries—a flaky crust that had some sort of fruit or jam atop it—and found Barnabus at the opposite end of the table, his fingers crammed into his ears.

“Is that your other brother? Nic, I think Micah called him?” she asked, pointing with her tartlet before taking a seat in the chair beside him.

Barnabus took his fingers out of his ears. “What?”

“I said: is that Nic?”

Upon hearing his name screamed from across the room, the young man jerked his neck toward her. When he grinned, he was all Micah—minus the bravado. His smile was a shy one, the smile of someone who still had yet to grow into themselves the way Micah had. Given his musical talent and charming good looks though, Kestrel didn’t think it would take him too long.

“Oh, yeah,” Barnabus answered. “Niculas, but I guess most people call him that.”

And without another word, he promptly crammed his fingers back into his earholes. He didn’t seem perturbed by the music, necessarily. In fact, he bobbed along with the beat in between spoonfuls of soup. For someone so accustomed to the quiet peace of the library, she could see how his ears could be sensitive to a place as boisterous as this. If anything though, Barnabus just seemed glad to be a part of the festivities, even if he needed them muted some.

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