Free The Seer (Tellaran Series) by Ariel MacArran

glance darting about to take it all in. A large room, it was already full of diners. The clinking of glasses and the hum over conversation floated over the instrumental music.
    The ceiling above was lit with blue light but as they waited she saw one side change to purple then the color change slowly sweep across the ceiling. A crystalline sculpture in the center of the room kept pace with the color change and the table lights themselves changed.
    “It’s so beautiful!” Arissa exclaimed.
    Jolar shot her a surprised look. “It’s nice,” he allowed.
    A few guests nearby were led by one of the hosts into the dining room. A quick glance showed there was no one else in earshot.
    “Do we just wait here?” she whispered.
    “What?”
    “For them to take us to our table,” she said. At his perplexed pulse, she added, “I mean do we go up or what?”
    “We give them our name and then they seat us.”
    “Do we pick where we sit or do they?”
    His brow creased. “They do.”
    “Okay.” The host had come back and timidly Arissa stepped forward.
    The man was already feeling tense and overwhelmed though none of it showed in his expression. “Name?”
    “Arissa.”
    “She’s joking.” Jolar shot her an annoyed look. “The name is Legan.”
    The host gave her an uncertain smile. “Please follow me.”
    Her face was hot with embarrassment but it was a thrill just to be here, to be able to go in, to sit down with all the beautiful artwork and elegantly dressed people around her.
    She smiled at the host when he gave her a menu. She looked around at the other diners, at the décor, at the dresses the other women wore, at how the lights were now a rose pink and changing to red. It was like being in a holodrama.
    Jolar’s bewildered glance followed hers. “What are you looking at?”
    “Everything,” she murmured.
    Their waiter appeared tableside, to fill their glasses with ice water and welcome them. He spoke quickly about the menu’s offerings, describing the chef’s dish in glowing terms before asking for their drink orders.
    The man looked at Arissa expectantly, harried beneath his polite expression.
    “I don’t  . . . I want a shooting star!” One of her favorite holo characters growing up always drank them. Arissa had never even tried one. “Do you have those?”
    The waiter nodded, his face emotionless. Arissa wondered what he found so amusing.
    “Two?” he asked Jolar with a raised eyebrow.
    Jolar gave him a narrow look. “Wine. One of the Neman vintages if you’ve got it.”
    “Dry or sweet?”
    “Dry,” Jolar said shortly, his eyes on his menu.
    “Thank you,” Arissa called after the waiter as he hurried away.
    Jolar stared at her, oscillating spikes of annoyance and confusion.
    Arissa ducked her head and scanned the menu. “Everything looks wonderful,” she said shyly. “I don’t even know how to choose.”
    Jolar put his menu down. “The chef’s dish sounds good.”
    “Oh, uh,” Arissa pitched her voice very low. “I wouldn’t.”
    His eyebrows went up, his annoyance rustling. “Why not?”
    “Because our waiter wouldn’t. Like it’s—” She considered, frowning a bit. “Like it’s cobbled together to get rid of something that’s going bad. They’re probably making him suggest it.”
    Jolar’s glance darted about around them.
    “No one’s listening, I che—”
    She broke off at his sharp, warning look.
    The waiter returned with their drinks. Arissa looked at hers for a long moment, enjoying the fizzling pale pink color of it, the pretty, feminine, frosty glass. She took a sip.
    “Oh,” she breathed at the fruity-sweet, light taste. “It’s wonderful.” She beamed up at the waiter. “Thank you so much!”
    The waiter’s smile was his first genuine one of the evening. “I hope you enjoy it.”
    Jolar lifted his menu again. “Well, I guess I’m skipping the chef’s dish.”
    “Wise,” the waiter said under his breath, placing the wine glass on the