A soft touch to my arm drew my attention to my right, where Alastir sat. “Would you like to take your dinner in your private quarters?” he asked quietly. “If so, I can escort you back to the fort.”
I lowered my spoon as I glanced to where Casteel sat at the head of the table. He was listening to an Atlantian as he rooted around on a plate of cheeses, inspecting each one as if he were looking for the perfect one or flaws. I refocused on Alastir. “Do I look that uncomfortable?”
A tight, worried smile appeared. “You’ve barely touched your food.”
It was hard to eat while people stared. My gaze flickered over the crowded room. Part of me wanted to excuse myself and return to my bedchamber, but this was only one of many dinners or events where I would be the object of interest. Plus, hiding in my quarters may be the easier option, but it would also be more cowardly. And besides, no one was projecting their emotions. There wasn’t a screamer among them, so I could ignore them. Mostly.
“I’m fine,” I decided.
His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I know it must be hard to be around so many who aren’t welcoming of you and know how they feel. I would not think ill of you if you don’t want to expose yourself to that. And just know that anyone who has spent even a few minutes in your presence does not feel that way. The rest will come to know you, I’m sure. But until then, I apologize for their behavior.”
He squeezed my arm gently. “Did you know that this was once a very busy trading post?”
I swallowed the knot his words formed in my chest.
“When Atlantia ruled over the entire kingdom, this was the first and last major city before you crossed the Skotos Mountains. There used to be…thousands that once passed through here,” he said, sighing as his gaze coasted over the bare walls. “It was such a shame to see what became of this place, but Casteel and these people are slowly restoring it and bringing new life.”
Quentyn strode out from an area where the food had been prepared, carrying a large pitcher. Another trailed behind him, shorter and younger with a slight limp. It took me a moment to recognize the boy with the black hair and tan skin. I’d only seen him in his wolven form and very briefly as a mortal, but his skin had been pale and clammy then.
Beckett.
I watched him refill the glasses at the end of the table and make his way toward us. As he refilled his great-uncle’s glass, he finally looked at me.
“We already met,” he whispered. “Kind of.”
“Beckett,” I said. “How are you feeling?”
“Almost perfect.” He poured water into my glass as he glanced back at Alastir before dipping his chin. “Thank you. I can’t say that enough.”
“You already have.”
A wide, toothy grin broke out across his face but quickly faded, and I felt a sharp spike of…of fear before he moved on to the other side of the table.
Was he now afraid of me?
I sat back as the knot in my chest expanded. I couldn’t understand why. I’d healed him—how I’d done that, I had no idea—but Beckett had to know that I wasn’t someone to fear.
“Penellaphe? Are you all right?”
A ragged breath left me as I looked at Alastir. “Yeah. Yes.” I smiled as I turned my attention back to him. “They seem very helpful. Beckett and Quentyn.”
“Respecting your elders is drilled into the young from a very early age. You will often find the youngest helping to serve food and drink at many dinner tables throughout Atlantia,” Casteel explained, having overheard me.
Alastir snorted. “Except for you. You always had your nose in a book at the dinner table.”
Surprise distracted me from Beckett’s response. “What were you reading?”
“Usually history books or my studies,” he answered, one side of his lips tipping up. “I was an utterly boring child most of the time.”
My eyes connected with Kieran’s briefly, reminding me of what he’d shared about Casteel being the serious one.
“Well, your brother made up for that,” Alastir said, shaking his head. “You didn’t want Malik serving you anything at dinner.”
My gaze flew back to Casteel, and I watched his smile grow. I didn’t know what I expected, but it was so rare that anyone spoke of his brother.
“Malik would often…experiment with the drinks and food,” Casteel said when he caught my gaze. “And you did not want to be on the receiving end of those experiments.”