Chapter 5: The Dinner

Hortense gave her dinner on the third night, and she put me at the bottom of the table.

Below the salt, between a deaf council elder and the door to the kitchens.

Ansley sat at Alastair's right hand in lavender silk, with her hair pinned up the way I'd worn mine to every dinner for six years.

Twenty guests were watching me to see what I would do.

I did nothing. I sat down, spread my napkin and smiled at the elder, who asked me to repeat everything.

"There's a draught here, my lady," a footman said in my ear. "Shall I move you?"

"No, thank you. I like it."

The soup was cold by the time it reached me.

Then the dining-room doors opened and Caleb Ostrow walked in, in a dress uniform with the silver collar buttoned.

The room went quiet.

He crossed the whole length of the table without looking at anyone and stopped beside the empty chair on my left.

"Is this taken?" he said.

"It's the draught seat," I said. "You'll hate it."

"I'll manage."

He sat, and moved the salt six inches to the left so it was in front of me.

"Deputy Commander," Hortense said from the head of the table. Her voice was very smooth. "We didn't expect you. You're not on the list."

"No, ma'am. I'm on hers."

He turned to me and lifted his glass.

I understood then that it was the moment, and that nobody would give me a better one.

I stood up.

"Friends," I said. "Elders. Since Hortense has been kind enough to gather you all, I have news."

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