Page 132 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
“But,” Aislinn interrupted, her voice quiet, “it wasn’t your fault. What happened—”
“I know,” said Minerva, “I know that. I think she does too. It just… it didn’t matter. I was the one who wanted to go, the sister Clay chose to follow… and the one that couldn’t choose him in the end. I couldn’t stay and watch the place where he wasn’t. I needed to go.”
“And we weren’t going to let her go alone,” added Diana, looking up from the table. “Terrible, see, at doing what we’re told.”
Minerva smiled. “My relief party. They didn’t stay quite as far away as they ought to have.”
“We’re stubborn like that,” agreed Flora.
“Magna wasn’t with us, or Luna,” Diana continued. “But Magna said she wasn’t letting Min go without a mechanic, and Luna—”
“I said they’d starve without me.”
“She wasn’t wrong,” said Minerva.
A laugh passed around the room.
“Every time we encountered an enemy on our journey, Min would yell ‘protect the cook!’”
“It’s good advice.”
“For which we’re all grateful,” added Dillon.
“If we hadn’t starved, we’d have survived, but we’d have been miserable, which is frankly a worse fate,” Minerva agreed. She downed her tankard. “Ah, well, that’s enough of that. I think I’m ready for bed. Bell?”
“I’ll be right there, dearest.”
Mostofthedwarvesheaded upstairs not long afterwards, leaving ‘the young ‘uns’ to themselves. Luna fell asleep in front of the fire and had to be carried upstairs by Dillon, which was difficult given his height and the low rafters of the inn. Even Caer had to duck in places.
Dillon came downstairs having deposited Luna safely in one of the beds, and the four of them conversed a little longer in the low light of the fire. Aislinn polished her weapons. Beau sketched. Dillon and Caer sparred out in the street and practised the latter’s powers.
Beau slunk upstairs before they returned.
They chatted a little longer beside the hearth, until Aislinn started to yawn.
“Go sleep,” Dillon insisted. “I know what you’re doing, and I appreciate it, but it isn’t necessary.”
“Do you know what he means, Caer?”
“Haven’t a clue, Ais.”
“See, Dillon? Caer says he hasn’t a clue.”
“Hilarious,” he said dryly. “A beautifully-dodged truth, Your Highness. Now, to bed with you.”
“I definitely outrank you.”
“I will tell your mother.”
Aislinn stood up. “I am doing this because I like you, not because of that threat.”
“Noted.”
She patted him on the shoulder as she passed, trying not to stare at the ragged mess of Dillon’s cheek, knowing it would never heal. She pinched Caerwyn’s sleeve and beckoned him to follow her.
She was half asleep as she traipsed up the stairs, her head heavy with exhaustion and senses hazy with ale, unsteadier than she’d normally be. Her foot caught on one of the steps, sending her sprawling. Caer hit her back, catching himself on stairs before he could topple forward, his mouth in her hair.
Aislinn giggled, inching round to face him.
