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As though sensing his gaze on her, Thea glanced across the room, finding him instantly. The smile she offered him was a private one, a smile just for him.
Wilder was so entranced by her that he almost didn’t see Kipp striding towards him, a big, eager grin on his face. Apparently not even an arachne fang to the heart would stop the strategist from having a good time.
‘I know you well enough now to recognise that look only means trouble,’ Wilder said apprehensively.
‘I disagree,’ Kipp replied, his grin widening further, if that was at all possible. ‘It means I’ve organised something you’ll approve of greatly.’
‘Gods, do I want to know?’
‘Probably not,’ Cal interjected, joining them at the table and swiping a chicken leg from the spread.
‘Of course you do.’ Kipp dismissed his friend with a wave. ‘Head into the next room. Take your Warsword companions.’
Baffled and a little uneasy, Wilder motioned to Talemir across the room, setting his tankard down on a table.
‘What is it?’ Tal said, brow furrowed in concern.
Wilder didn’t blame him. ‘Kipp asked us to go in there.’ He pointed to the doorway.
‘Since when do we just do what Guardians tell us?’ Talemir quipped.
‘Times are changing, Tal.’
‘I’ll say.’ But he followed Wilder into the room all the same.
‘My good friends!’ Marise the wine merchant exclaimed as they entered, rushing forward and embracing Wilder before he turned to Talemir, unabashed joy in his eyes. ‘The famous Prince of Hearts! We meet again at long last!’
Talemir’s eyes bulged. ‘Marise? What the fuck are you doing here?’
‘I’ve been telling Wilder to come to my dead red event for years, and he’s been hard to tie down —’
Wilder nearly choked on his ale.
‘So I brought the occasion to him!’ With a flourish, the merchant whipped a cloth from the table behind him, revealing a significant line-up of wine bottles.
Wilder suppressed a laugh of disbelief. ‘How did you manage this? The world’s on fucking fire and you find —’
‘A dead red event? Seriously?’ Talemir groaned. ‘You’re still doing those? I nearly died at the last one, Marise.’
Thea appeared in the doorway and, spotting Marise, waved enthusiastically. ‘What exactly is a dead red event? I’ve been wanting to know what it was since I met you. I thought it was something sinister…’
‘Sinister?’ Marise looked shocked. ‘My good lady, a dead red event is —’
‘A celebration!’ Kipp chimed in from the doorway.
‘Precisely.’
Thea folded her arms over her chest and waited. ‘Someone explain.’
‘Marise has a lot of older wine, wine that was designed for ageing,’ Talemir explained. ‘So every few years he hosts what he dubbed the dead red event, wherein he and his friends all sift through their cellars for the oldest wine they have and bring it to his shop. The wine has either gone completely bad – dead – or it’s the most incredible wine you’ve ever tasted. The only thing that’s certain is that you won’t remember leaving.’
‘If you leave at all,’ Wilder mumbled.
‘That’s one of two certain things,’ Kipp said with a wink. ‘The second is that you’ll have a spectacular time.’
‘How would you know?’ Wilder gaped.
Kipp gave a smug grin. ‘The Son of the Fox never misses one.’
