Retribution(67)

“That was insightful,” he offered, running a hand down her hair.

“I think boring might be a better word,” she countered.

Several people laughed as their attention returned to their food, and Quin took Layla by the chin, forcing her to meet his stare. “No one thought that was boring,” he whispered. “You speak beautifully, and your words are lovely. It's a privilege to be your audience.”

“Thank you,” she replied, unconvinced his words applied to anyone besides him, but she appreciated them anyway.

He smiled and kissed her nose. Then he returned to his meal while she braved a glance at the others. Most of them had gone back to eating, but a few continued to stare. Cecelia watched her like she was the most intriguing thing that had ever lived, and Dallas studied her aura, obviously doing a little judging of his own. When she made eye contact with him, he smiled, unconcerned by the fact that she caught him staring.

Utilizing another wave of confidence, Layla leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table and her chin on her knuckles. “I have to say, Dallas, and please don't take it the wrong way when I do, but I’m surprised you haven’t already called this a bad idea and left.”

The family looked at her with wide eyes, but Dallas merely leaned forward and smiled. “Well, dear, I know the situation seems dire at the moment, but a well devised and properly orchestrated plan can work miracles.” He paused, motioning between her and Quin. “Particularly when the conductors themselves are miracles. I won't call it hopeless when I haven't even heard how you intend to succeed.”

She raised an eyebrow and waved a hand. “Do we look like we have a smart plan?”

Several mouths fell open, and Quin leaned forward, finding her face.

“What?” she asked. “Am I being rude?”

“Not by my standards,” Dallas assured.

He seemed to mean it, so she looked at the others. “Is this an inappropriate subject to be discussing at dinner or something?”

“No,” Caitrin answered. “There's no such thing as an inappropriate subject here. We're just surprised by your bold approach on this subject, due to its sensitivity and… well, to be honest, honey, you’re not usually one to speak up.”

“But that doesn't mean we don't want to hear what you have to say,” Morrigan added. “I, for one, would love to know what's going on in your head.”

“I'm not so sure,” Layla laughed. “It's a mess in there. My thoughts are about as organized as the closet in my old bedroom, piles that would take hours to sift through only to come out empty-handed and exhausted, wondering why you went in there in the first place.”

Quin laughed and refilled her wine. “You and your witty analogies. You're quite good at making sense out of them.”

She flashed a smile and tilted her glass. “That's because they do make sense.”

“I understood every word,” Weylin offered.

“Well,” Banning smirked, “if Weylin understood it, you can bet everyone else did, too.”

Weylin grabbed Banning in a headlock and ruffled his short blond hair, using magic to make it grow long and curly. Letting him go, Weylin pointed and laughed. “Look, Brayden, Bann's Goldilocks.”

Brayden burst into giggles. Then Alana joined him, and as Layla watched the children’s vibrant faces and listened to the beautiful sound of their happiness, she couldn't help but laugh along. Soon, the entire table was laughing at Banning's expense, including Banning, and while a small prank ignited the lively chorus, it burned bright with the need for release. With a cloud of doom hanging over them, the positivity they thrived on had been stifled, clogging their insides, and now the knot unwound, leaving them as light as air and ready to face the next challenge.





Chapter 17





Following dinner, the large table was cleared away and replaced by a small table bearing beverages; and the chairs were rearranged into a circle beside it. Once everyone had reclaimed their seat, Caitrin waved a hand and ignited a fire at the heart of their gathering. Then he, Catigern, Dallas and one of the twins summoned pipes, which they lit and passed to their right.

Layla leaned forward and watched the pipes work their way around the group. A few people passed without partaking, but most took a pull from the pipe before sending it on its way. Layla studied their expressions and auras, looking for anything abnormal, but nothing stood out as odd, nothing felt odd. Not the magicians or the summoned fire or the smoke rings floating toward the night sky. Traditional rules didn't exist inside the community or apply to its magical denizens. They were removed from the world she grew up in – two worlds so close yet so far apart – and within this beautiful bubble of sorcery and abnormality, cannabis didn’t have a stigma. “It's like another dimension,” she mumbled.