Free The Seer by Kirsten Jones Page B

the Ri’s Divinus! 
    Mistral raised
her eyebrows and quickly broke the connection.  It looked like Leo had
another contender for his coveted position.  Mycroft’s thoughts had
clearly revealed to her that he wasn’t prepared to give up his temporary
promotion without a struggle.  Seeking a distraction, she gazed along the
table, looking for Fabian but before she could find him one of the apprentices
appeared beside her with a plate of roasted venison.  Suddenly starving;
she grabbed for her knife and fork and prepared to attack the biggest slice on
her plate.  Steam rushed out from the hot meat, filling her nostrils with
its rich smell.  Suddenly her knife and fork fell to the table with a
clatter.
    Phantasm
turned to glare at her.  Don’t you dare try and eat with your
fingers! 
    ‘I wouldn’t
eat that if you paid me!  Did Bernadette cook that?  It smells
revolting!’  Mistral choked, fighting down the urge to be violently sick.
    Phantom
snatched the plate away and Phantasm regarded her with a frown.  I
think you should go to the Infirmary tomorrow and let Serenity check you over.
    ‘No chance,
I’m going home tomorrow.  And can you actually talk to me for a
change?’  Mistral muttered under her breath.  ‘I look even more of an
oddity sat here talking to myself!’
    ‘I apologise.’
 Phantasm said aloud.  ‘But seriously Mistral, you’ve been off colour
for days now.’
    Mistral
shrugged and instantly cringed as she caught one of Bryden’s elves watching her
exposed cleavage rise and fall with the motion, ‘I’ll see Cain if it continues
if you want, but not Serenity,’ she agreed lightly, privately resolving to see
neither of them on a medical matter ever again if she could help it.
    ‘Good. 
Now let’s get back to work.  Malachi?’
    Mistral nodded
vaguely, but her eyes were once again seeking those of Fabian.  She found
him, sat talking with Mage Grapple, his beautiful face set in a serious
expression.  She gazed at him longingly, listening indulgently to his
thoughts and smiling at the concentration he was giving to a subject that would
have sent her to sleep in seconds.
    Mistral!
    ‘Hmm?’
    Please
don’t look at Mage De Winter like that!  It’s most unprofessional!
    Mistral
started and realised that she had pulled a lock of hair loose and was twirling
it through her fingers while she gazed at Fabian, ‘Sorry for looking at my
husband,’ she muttered and reluctantly turned her attention back to the matter
in hand.  Malachi Nox.
    She looked
down the table, taking in the faces of the attendees at the banquet.  So
many different tribes, nationalities and breeds;all gathered in honour
of the Divinus.  It reminded her of the Festival of the Arcane, only a lot
smaller and infinitely more civilised.  Everyone present was at pains to
be on their best behaviour.  The goblin chieftain from the cave tribes of
the west was struggling with his knife and fork, the sophisticated dryad sat
beside him politely ignoring his efforts whilst surreptitiously dabbing a
napkin to his nose to ward off the goblin’s odour.  Imperato and Dravite,
aloof and silent, were stood at the end of the table nearest to the fire, the
two foreign Mages sat silently on either side of them looking awkward and overawed. 
Mistral was suddenly struck by the fact that apart from her there were no women
present, not even Serenity. 
    ‘Why –’
    Unless this
is about Master Nox I don’t want to know!  We are nearly half way through
the main course and all you’ve done is gaze around aimlessly.  Please
focus Mistral!
    Mistral glared
at Phantasm, wishing he could read her thoughts for once so that she could
silently tell him where to stick his main course.  He ignored her foul
glare and raised an eyebrow, looking pointedly down the table to their right to
where Malachi was sitting. 
    In case you
need reminding, that’s Master Nox over there.  The person he’s whispering
secretively to is his father,