Page 76 of Bound to the Shadow Queen
I clamped a hand over her mouth. “No to you, and to everything you’re about to say.”
Soren threw his head back in laughter. Wynnie only shrugged, but I could feel the mischief wafting from her tiny frame.
By the fifth round, we had shifted. The bottle made its steady rotation, glasses were refilled less carefully, and the tray of baked goods and leftover dinner scraps had been pulled apart between us.
I couldn’t remember who had sent for it, only that Mirelda had delivered it herself, along with four pitchers of water and an expression so steeped in judgment I thought it might curdle our precious whiskey.
She’d left reluctantly, muttering under her breath as though she were abandoning children to their own poor decisions.
Now, half the bread was gone, the cheese hacked into uneven chunks, and all the pastries were gone.
“For context,” Soren said, words only slightly slurred, “Lady Noerwyn is stretched out on a rug by the fire. It’s white, the color of moonlight, soft as a wolf’s fur…and she looks…ah, perhaps a little seasick. Like she’s been tossed around on a storm-wracked ship for far, far too many days.”
“I can’t believe you’d lie to someone who can’t see the difference,” Wynnie muttered, her voice thick, crumbs clinging to her lips as she pressed a hand flat to her stomach as if that would still it.
“Not a lie,” Soren corrected with a grin. “A choice. Descriptions can’t always be perfect… Though mine usually are.”
He winked before continuing. “You must use comparisons, textures, moods. The sound, shape, and even taste to paint the thing in a way that the listener feels it.”
Soren paused, tilting the bottle back for a long, dramatic swallow before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Nevara let out a low chuckle, one hand draped lazily over her eyes. “And apparently that means I’ve been painted as half-dead.”
Soren smiled. “And yet, you are as beautiful in death as you were in life, dear Nevara. A Vision as well as a Visionary.”
Wynnie cleared her throat dramatically. “Everly is casually leaning against the biggest wolf I’ve ever seen, using him as a pillow while her navy tresses lay askew like…a bowl of noodles that’s been dropped on the floor.”
Soren shook his head, and Nevara’s shoulders rocked with laughter.
“Lumen is warmer than a sack of feathers,” I said by way of defense, trying in vain to tame my waves.
He grinned, making a gesture for her to continue. “And the bottle of Emberkiss is…”
“Gone,” Nevara supplied for them, another short, rare laugh escaping her. “But you brought another one.”
“And here you claim you don’t See everything.”
“I always see what matters in the end,” she replied, but some of the humor had faded from her tone.
Before I could decide if I believed that, my sister spoke up again, a slurring quality in her words.
“Did you know that…people are bigger on the inside.”
“You mean like they have good hearts?” Soren asked, his expression genuinely empathetic as he settled next to Nevara, who rested her head on his shoulder.
Wynnie shook her head emphatically. “No, I mean…literally. They have more insides than you would expect.”
Soren choked on what was almost a laugh. “You’re not wrong.”
He took another drink, and Nevara drained her glass in one go.
Wynnie turned speculatively to the roaring fire.
“I guess you never really know a person until you see them…half eaten in your dining room.”
I turned my head slowly to look at my sister, who wore all the expression of someone who had just commented on the change in weather and not the mass slaughter that had taken place at her estate.
And I couldn’t help it. I laughed. Wynnie laughed with me. Loud, unhinged guffaws that were edged with the unmistakable edge of hysteria.
