Darius tapped on his arm and then gave Serena a pointed look. He would swear she was acting like a cat drenched by rainwater and pulled out into the sunlight forcibly.
"Do I like that bad?" Serena asked.
He noticed the way her lips quivered downwards and he was instantly apologetic. "No, of course not. You just have not touched anything on this table."
She seemed to be satisfied with his answer and she stylishly reached for a grape. Darius turned his attention to Riven who seemed to be engrossed with whatever Charlotte was talking about. He had doubted Silas’ decision to bring her here but Darius had forgotten how entertaining she could be whenever she wanted to.
Such was the power of good liars.
"So tell me, Riven of Dawnbreak, what sort of food do you like to eat up North?" Darius asked, his tone light, hands loosely clasped before him on the table.
Riven looked up from his tea, seemingly unbothered by the question. "Root stews mostly. Dried meats, smoked fish when the rivers aren’t frozen. Not as charming as southern fruits and pastries, but it keeps the bones warm."
Charlotte laughed, her finger spinning idly around the rim of her cup. "You make it sound like a life of perpetual frost and gloom."
Riven tilted his head. "Sometimes it is but that brings its own peace. Besides, I can never compare it with the East.."
Verec piped up, "I have always said that you can judge a territory by its broth. You eat your way into a man’s culture."
"Then Ironshade must be doing well," Charlotte said, plucking a berry from a nearby bowl and popping it into her mouth. "We haven’t stopped feeding you since you arrived."
"Hospitality speaks louder than words," Riven replied, nodding once in approval.
Darius watched the exchange with a subtle sense of ease. It was working, this slow, purposeful lull into comfort. Charlotte’s laughter filled the spaces he wanted left soft and warm. Verec’s old-man meanderings offered harmless distractions. And Riven, keen though he was, had not pressed where Darius didn’t want him to.
He flicked a glance to Serena.
She was still quiet, but her hand now rested loosely around her teacup. Her posture had relaxed, and she no longer stared down into her lap or past the hedges like she was plotting escape. The grape she had taken earlier remained half-eaten in her hand, forgotten, but that was still better than nothing.
Darius lifted his own cup. "And what about you, Serena? What meals do you favour?"
She blinked, caught mid-thought, and then offered a small, composed smile. "I suppose I lean towards soups. The ones you can keep warm for hours and share with others."
"That is rpactical," Verec said with an approving nod. "Warmth and company."
Darius leaned back, letting his elbow rest on the arm of the carved garden chair. "So we have stews, broths, and berries. What a humble gathering we are."
"Oh, but do not forget Charlotte’s diet of dramatics and compliments," Serena murmured.
Charlotte gasped in mock offence. "I have never been so accurately slandered!"
The table laughed, soft, real laughter and Darius smiled quietly to himself. Good. Let it continue .
He steered the conversation next toward the weather. It was a topic so mind-numbingly harmless that even Verec had nothing to argue about. They discussed the rains to the south, the crisp snowfalls of Dawnbreak, and how Ironshade’s pine-laden winters still held a kind of solemn beauty.
It wasn’t long before plates began to empty and teacups cooled. Darius was about to shift the topic again when Riven, who had gone quiet beside him, spoke.
"I heard your father passed unexpectedly," he said, his voice low but clear. "Forgive the shift in tone. I only bring it up because I was surprised to learn how young you were when you took up the mantle."
The conversation stilled, just for a heartbeat. Serena glanced toward Darius quickly. Charlotte looked as if she was ready to say something...anything but wisely held her tongue.
"My father was many things," Darius said evenly. "Brilliant, commanding... and at times, difficult to know. His death was sudden. The transition, however, was not as chaotic as one might assume."
"You had advisors," Riven said, not unkindly. "But it still could not have been easy."
"No," Darius admitted, "it was not. But in Ironshade, we do not dwell on hardship. We adapt." Tʜe sourcᴇ of thɪs content ɪs novel⸺fire.net
There was a pause. Serena, her hands tightening slightly around her cup, wondered what version of the tale Riven had been told. Just ’death.’ The myth remained neat that way, honourable and clean.
"You wear the role well," Riven finally said, his gaze steady. "Ironshade holds strong under your command."
Darius gave a short nod. "Strength does not come from one wolf alone."
"And yet," Riven added, "you carry it well."
Something flickered in Darius’s eyes, some old echo of memory But he said nothing more. He shifted slightly in his seat and glanced toward Serena.
"Forgive the heaviness," he said lightly. "Let us not burden the rest of the tea with ghosts. Verec, were you not just telling Charlotte about the owl migration?"
"Ah yes," Verec said, clearing his throat. "Magnificent things. There’s a species in Dawnbreak with eyes like amber glass. They come south only when the sky turns..."
As Verec droned on, Darius relaxed once more, but the moment hadn’t passed unnoticed.
Serena sat straighter now. Her mind lingered on Darius’s composure. And it hurt her a little, in a way she could not explain, to see how quickly he bore the weight of legacy and loss without falter.
Charlotte kicked her gently beneath the table and raised her brows as if to say you alright? Serena offered her the faintest smile in reply.
The garden around them remained golden with sun, the shadows growing longer with the afternoon. Darius sat back in his seat and let the voices swirl again. But even as he laughed at one of Verec’s strange bird facts, his thoughts strayed.