Page 37 of Unseen Eye
The room falls into a deeper silence, each word dripping with gravity and expectation. “After tonight’s entertainment, we will make a special announcement,” Baron adds, his eyes locking with mine for a brief moment. “It is an announcement that will shape the future of our kingdom, reflecting our unwavering faith in the signs and our commitment to a prosperous and peaceful Astermiri.”
This time, I actually roll my eyes as I hear Callon snicker beside me.
As the applause dies down, servants emerge carrying trays of food, and conversations around the table resume. My mind, however, remains fixated on Baron’s speech and the weight of his words. I can’t shake the feeling that something bad is about to happen. Maybe it’s the ominous tone, or maybe it’s just my paranoia. Either way, I’m bracing for impact.
The first course is served, and the table is covered with an array of delicacies: roasted meats, vibrant salads, and an assortment of cheeses and breads. However, the tension at this table could be sliced with a knife.
“I can’t believe my father had us all sit together,” Garet mutters between bites, his voice laced with annoyance.
Leigh smacks his arm playfully, but not before Callon chimes in, “What was that, Garet? I couldn’t hear you over the amazing time I’m having right now.”
Garet’s eyes darken, the playfulness evaporating from his face. “Don’t test me, Callon. I’m not in the mood for your shit tonight.”
Leigh shifts uncomfortably, her eyes darting between the two of them. The female, cool as ever, tries to defuse the situation. “Please, boys, can we at least attempt to get along tonight? Tomorrow, we can go back to hating each other and comparing sizes.”
I nearly choke on my drink, earning a curious look from Callon and a helpful pat on the back from Leigh.
Callon, without missing a beat, responds, “Yes, Mother.”
Garet’s glare intensifies. “You always were a spineless bastard, Callon. Hiding behind sarcasm because you’ve got nothing else.”
Callon’s smirk drops instantly, his eyes narrowing as his voice drops dangerously low. “At least I don’t have to force my loyalty.”
Garet shoots up from his seat, fists clenched, but Leigh grabs his arm, hissing, “That’s enough.”
The woman with Callon leans in close, murmuring something under her breath that only he can hear.
Curiosity gets the best of me, and I turn to Leigh, lowering my voice. “Who’s she? The woman with Callon?”
Leigh shifts slightly, her expression unreadable as she answers in a hushed tone.
“That’s Izzy, one of Drystan’s ambassadors from Coire. She’s a deadly air bender. You should be careful around her. She’s not someone to underestimate.”
Suddenly, Garet mutters under his breath, “Just watch yourself around both of them, especially Callon.”
Callon turns to Garet, his voice filled with venom. “Keep herout of this, Garet. You’ve done enough.”
Garet’s lip curls. “Funny, coming from you. Always pretending like you’re a god while you stab everyone in the back.”
Callon’s eyes flare with rage, and for a second, it looks like he might leap across the table. Izzy’s hand shoots out, grabbing Callon’s arm tightly. “Not here,” she whispers fiercely.
Callon jerks his arm away, but he doesn’t escalate further. Instead, he leans back again, his voice dripping with disdain. “It’s always the cowards who bark the loudest.”
I take a sip of wine. A very big sip.
Trying to steer the conversation to safer waters, I point to the short female figure sitting with Drystan and Baron, her eyes fixed on me. “Is she really a gnome?” I whisper to Leigh, still a little stunned by the discovery.
Izzy overhears and gives me a look, one part disbelief, one part amusement. “Of course she’s a gnome,” she says with a roll of her eyes, as if it should be the most obvious thing in the world.
I shift in my seat, feeling the need to clarify. “I mean, I know gnomes are real, but I guess I was expecting something different. Where’s her—” I stop myself before I can finish the thought, realizing how ridiculous it might sound.
Leigh laughs, a warm sound that cuts through the awkwardness. Izzy nearly spits out her drink. Garet, his posture less tense now, cracks a smile. “Pointy hats, right? The classic human misconception.”
Izzy, wiping her mouth, grins. “They might like hats, but no, not the pointy ones. That’s just what humans think they should wear.”
I feel the blush creeping up my neck, embarrassed by the fact I’m still caught up in the old fairy tales. “Sorry,” I mutter, half laughing at myself.
The conversation shifts, but my curiosity isn’t done. “So… are leprechauns real, too?” I ask before I can stop myself.
