Page 52 of Skinwalker's Bane
Adam was sitting at one of the tiny tables that edged the bushes.
Devin almost tripped. She hesitated, wondering if she should acknowledge him or not. Political expediency said to ignore him and pretend he was a stranger to her. The tiny voice in her mind warning her to move on sounded a lot like Bishan’s.
So she deliberately stopped in front of Adam. “Hello,” she said, keeping her voice neutral, while her gaze drank him in.
He was in one of the ‘fancy suits’ he had referred to witheringly, the night he had given her the dress file. It looked very good on him, too, for his shoulders filled the jacket and made them look even bigger. His strong neck rose from the complicated tie and collar arrangement and his legs extended, the dark satin ribbon running down the side of the trousers seemed to run forever. He had his legs thrust out as he leaned back, as if he was at the Midnight Garden, drinking spice ale. He looked relaxed and comfortable.
His eyes narrowed as she halted. “Hello yourself,” he said, his voice just as unstudied.
“You’re here with the Institute?”
“Haydn insisted. Noa hates this affair. After the third time she threw up this afternoon, Haydn let her off the hook and made me come in her place.”
“Ah.” That was why he hadn’t mentioned he was attending, before. He hadn’t known until the last minute. She shifted uneasily. There was so much more she wanted to say. None of it could be spoken, here. There were too many people at the tables and floating around the big open space in front of the dance floor, even this early in the evening, for her to risk being overheard. Bishan was probably watching her right now, ready to pounce if she lingered. “Well…” she said awkwardly. “Have a nice evening.”
“You, too.”
She made herself turn and head for the Chairman and heard Adam’s strangled cough behind her.
The back of her dress. For a moment, she had forgotten. She looked over her shoulder. Yes, he was staring at her back, his gaze moving up and down her figure. There was a hungry look in his eyes she recognized. It made her body warm.
Devin couldn’t help the little smile forming at the corners of her mouth. She deliberately walked away from him. She could feel his gaze follow her.
By the time she reached the Chairman’s tight cluster of admirers, her heart was speeding along and her thoughts were fracturing. She pulled herself together.
A hand touched her sleeve, drawing her attention away from the chairman himself, who was talking about the share system the tankball teams were all starting to use for their contributors, and how it would benefit the game.
Liya Cassel smiled as Devin turned. “Itdoeslook good on you! I knew it would,” Liya told her.
Devin gripped her hand compulsively. “Thank you so much for giving this to me. You have no idea how much I was dreading this evening. The dress has helped enormously.”
“I have a little idea how this evening goes for the politicians on the ship,” Liya said calmly. “I’ve seen the Captain fret as much as you.” Liya patted her arm. “Relax. You look wonderful.”
Devin recalled Adam’s choked groan and smiled. “Good.”
Liya laughed. “Enjoy your power!” She turned away.
“You’re not sitting at the Chairman’s table? Or the Captain’s?” Devin asked, surprised.
“Oh stars, no!” Liya said, looking amused. “I just work in the Aventine and my clients all know that. My heart is with my family. I’ll be sitting with them.”
“Even though you could scoop up more clients tonight if you’re eating with them?” Devin asked, even more surprised, because it seemed like such an obvious thing to take advantage of. She would have done that, if she were in Liya’s place.
Liya shook her head, a small smile lingering. “Even if I didn’t have enough clients to keep me busy for more than a year, I would still sit with my family. They’re the ones who make me comfortable and happy. Have a good evening, Devin.”
Devin watched her move across the open space to where a group of people, including the flaxen haired Gelin Merrit, stood talking in a tight group. There were other skinwalkers there. Devin could recognize them by name and face, now. The skinwalkers would be considered suitable guests to invite to the soiree, only they would naturally cling to each other.
Mina Rask moved around the edge of the group to where Devin was standing. “You look very nice,” she said, in her raspy voice. “Come and meet the Chairman. We have time for a quick word before dinner starts. I would like him to know who you are before we sit at his table.”
Devin was quickly caught up in a flurry of introductions. The Chairman of the Tankball Association, Nate Marey, was remote and guarded, for tonight his attention was being pulled in all sorts of direction. Yet he was a politician at heart, even if he wasn’t voted into the Chair. He welcomed Devin with warm cheeriness. His gaze moved over her quickly, although his next comment was innocuous.
Dinner was called only a few minutes later. Devin realized the gathering area had filled up behind her while she was busy talking to everyone in the Chairman’s circle. Networking this way came easily to her because she had practiced it so much. Bishan would approve—she said nothing controversial and offended no one, which in such a large group was sometimes difficult to pull off.
Dirks and Vinci did not appear until they were gathering around the big, circular table, figuring out where everyone should sit. There was a subtle juggling to try to claim a chair as close to the Chairman as possible, so Devin did the opposite. She picked the chair on the far other side from Nate Marey and settled into it, with her stole hanging over the back of it.
The Chairman’s eyes narrowed as he watched her sit. Then a hand on his elbow drew his attention and he spoke to the person next to him.
As he would have to shout across the big table for Devin to hear him, it meant she could relax a little. Only her neighbors would need to be engaged in small talk and as no one had claimed either seat yet, she was free for a few minutes.
