The [Lord] had never known another member of the royal family beyond a few passing words, or official events. But he felt for Seraphel. He wished he could tell her the Earl of Ovela was a fine man.

But the Twins were quarrelsome, each with their own faults and virtues. They were not the old Earl. And Lantal was certain that the new, young Earl did not want to be married either.

He passed the dinner with Seraphel being the charming guest. And she was. Lantal just wished he could believe she enjoyed herself as much as she claimed. She seemed patently miserable to him.

——

That night, Cara O’Sullivan sat alone. Not because she had been abandoned, but having made a conscious choice.

Which was to have a drink. The tavern she sat in was separate from the inn in that it catered alcohol where the inn was a place to stable your horse, sleep, and eat.

Taverns, inns, pubs, motels…well, this was familiar to Cara, at least. Adreissel had a night-life.

Unlike the villages like Landsmecht, the thick walls around the town allowed people to do more than sit in their houses at night with the doors closed. They were still cautious, but Violetta and Idelt thought it was reckless to be up at night.

Mind you—Violetta would have joined Cara if Idelt hadn’t forbade her. Cara had asked about having a drink with some of the coins she’d earned from performing. Yes, she should save up. On the other hand?

Alcohol.

She had gone through a tomb, survived undead attacks, and sung and performed these last few days.

She deserved one drink!

“I’ll come too! I’m old enough.”

“No, you will not. The banquet is tomorrow. You won’t be out carousing when you need to rest.”

Idelt had forbade Violetta. Cara he had no power over, and anyways, she was only here for a single drink. Or two. She knew her limits.

The point was, Cara sat alone since Idelt had decided to parent by example. Some of the drinkers regarded her respectfully, but no one had really chatted her up after she’d shot down six prospective companions to her table in a row.

Which was low. Afiele vs Earth, again. Cara sipped at the beer. It was, predictably, a dark lager. What else? But a quite tasty one.

“I’ll have another. And what did you call the, um, spicy vegetables?”

“Yellats. Terandrian.”

The [Bartender] was the sort who’d serve you what you wanted and let you go about your day without chatter. Nor did most of the people here seem to want to chat; there was a background buzz, but it seemed to Cara that people here came here to drown what they’d seen. And in Afiele, there was a lot to drown.

“Like undead mice.”

She shuddered. Cara took another bite of the spicy, vaguely asparagus-broccoli shaped orange stuff.

Yellats.

“Where’s this from?”