Page 59 of Starchaser
I want it to stay that way.
“I don’t think I realized how tall you’ve gotten!” I say, mussing Albert’s dirty-blond hair. I always thought Albert looked the most like Owen—like our father—and the resemblance makes my heart ache.
“Don’t tell him that,” Charlie says, his back against the stone wall of what appears to be a small study. “He already thinks he can take me in a fight.”
Albert snorts. “Because I can.”
Jack mediates the inevitable arm wrestling match between Albert and Charlie as I take in my surroundings. Maps decorate the torchlit walls and clutter the long wooden table at the center of the cramped space. Mother stands at the head of the table, dressed in the black-and-white-striped apron of a laundress, stray curls sticking to her sweat-slicked face. She points at a region of a map while Lewis nods intently, the two of them so engulfed in their conversation that it’s as if they didn’t notice our arrival.
In the corner of the room, Killian stands over a crate, holding a raggedy stuffed lion.
“Killian?”
His gaze snaps to me, as if I jarred him from a memory. “Oh, good.” His shoulders sag a little. “The others should be along any minute now.”
At that moment, Lord and Lady Bludgrave emerge from the passageway, followed by Henry, who looks as if he were trampled by a horse—and smells like it, too.
“Lovely to see you,” Henry says, planting a kiss on my cheek, his honeyed, peppermint breath like a jolt to my senses. He offers an exaggerated bow to Margaret. “Miss Oberon.”
Margaret rolls her eyes.
“Welcome,” Mother says, finally looking up from her maps to greet the new arrivals. “We’re just waiting on a few more.”
A crease forms between Lord Bludgrave’s brows as he takes in his surroundings, brushing the dust from his suit. “Bless the Maker!” he says. “Killian? What is the meaning of this?”
Lady Isabelle places a hand on her husband’s arm, her gaze calculating as she meets my mother’s eyes from the opposite end of the table. “My apologies, Grace,” she says. “My brother didn’t tell us you’d be joining our meeting.”
“Notourmeeting,” Killian says, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. “Hermeeting.”
Lord Bludgrave’s face reddens as he looks between Killian and Mother. “But—you—how—”
I look at Charlie’s and Lewis’s faces, too—note the surprise and confusion there. So they have no idea why Mother’s called us here, either.
“Yes,” Mother answers, smiling slightly. “Killian and I decided you would be more willing to meet if he invited you, rather than I.”
When it seems that Lord Bludgrave may finally form a complete sentence, the passageway opens once more and Flynn and Eliza Cooper emerge. I hardly have a moment to process their arrival as Tollith—the bespectacled badger I last saw in the kitchen of Bludgrave Manor—tumbles into the room after them, followed by Sybil, who looks even younger and more timid than she ever did at Bludgrave. Not far behind, a pink orb of light flies past Sybil and darts straight for me.
“Liv!” I giggle as the pixie presses her forehead to mine.
She perches on my shoulder, kicking her legs as we all pause, listening to the scuffle of clothing as one final guest makes their way through the tunnel. My stomach flips when the flickering light reflects off Will’s dark hair.
Earlier this evening, all I wanted was to be alone with Will, but now, as he crawls out of the passageway and rises to his full height, acting as if I’m not standing two feet away as he surveys the inhabitants of the room, I’m thankful for Margaret, standing by my side, and the stable presence of my family.
Will smooths his lapels. There’s something about the way he closes the door behind him, the sureness of his surroundings—no keen perusal of the map-laden walls, no curious glance at the crates stacked in the corner—that leads me to believe he’s been here before. “I don’t suppose we’re gathered here for after-dinner drinks?”
“I’m afraid not,” Killian says, dropping the stuffed lion on the crate and taking his place at the end of the table beside Mother, who looks every bit a captain, her chin raised high as she meets the gaze of each individual gathered around the table with a measured look.
“We don’t have much time,” Mother says, her eyes softening when her gaze lands on Charlie, Lewis, Elsie, and Albert gathered to her right. “I should have told you sooner, but the time wasn’t right.” She cuts a glance at me, where I stand between Margaret and Henry, the latter leaning on me for support. “Long before you were born, your father and I joined an organization known by many as the Order of Hildegarde.”
Charlie’s eyes narrow. “Anorganization?”
Lewis nods slowly as he looks about the room. “You’re all rebels, aren’t you?”
Eliza winks at him. “Pirate, rebel—I’d say we’re one and the same, honey.”
Lord Bludgrave scoffs, which earns a laugh from Flynn.
“After everything,” the Bloodknight says, “you still don’t like to think of yourself as a rebel, do you?”
