Page 62 of Bitten By the Basilisk

His father’s face reddened. The nearest guests made a collective gasp before launching into a flurry of whispers. From the corner of his eye, he noted the uncertain look on Alice’s face.

“Indeed, she should,” his mother agreed, beaming. “The next few days are for building rapport and determining compatibility, are they not? Can’t have one’s mother in the way.”

Though she spoke mollifyingly, her simpering smile said she was relishing his father’s frustration. Gabriel let out a tense breath, swaying as his wife leaned against his arm in a mock show of affection.

Silas moved to take his place at the head of the table. As he layered his coils, he extended the end of his tail across the rug beneath and twined it around Alice’s ankle.

She was already discreetly observing him, watching his lower half slide and twist into position. When the tip of his tail touched her leg, she shifted in surprise and met his gaze with wide eyes.

If she shook her head or tried to tug her leg away, he would keep his tail to himself. For now. But she hadn’t so far.

“Tell us about yourself, Alice,” his mother invited as she lifted a flute of champagne to her bright-red lips.

Alice broke eye contact with him to turn her attention to his mother. To her credit, she quickly shifted focus and began describing her life in Chicago, all while allowing his tail to remain where it was.

As Alice and his mother chatted about her job, his father leaned over the corner of the table until he could speak without being overheard, cupping his hand around his mouth so no one could see his gritted teeth.

“You adorned her with part of your bride-dowry?” his father hissed.

“I did,” Silas murmured sedately.

“Have you gone mad? Bestowing that much wealth on a stranger?”

“It’s mine to give. And she is no more a stranger than any of this year’s candidates. Nowhere near, in fact. Anyway, she declined the jewelry. She’s only wearing it for the evening.”

His father pulled back as confusion replaced his displeasure. “Declined? Why⁠—”

“Champagne, sir?” a new voice cut in as a server appeared with an open champagne bottle cradled in their hands.

At Silas’s nod, the server filled his glass. They then moved on to Alice, who accepted a pour with a polite dip of her head.

“Stop whispering over there and join the conversation, will you?” his mother gently chided once the server left.

His father straightened in his seat with a rather petulant frown.

Mother raised her half-full glass. “To meeting new people!”

Everyone followed suit, even his father, and took a drink.

“May I ask, Alice, whether you inherited the same power as your mother?” Vesta asked as she set down her glass.

Alice shot him an uncertain look. He squeezed her calf within his tail.

“I…have the gift of True Sight.” She then briefly explained her ability to perceive magical energies, see through all manner of illusions, and sense whether a speaker was being honest, provided they didn’t possess an exceptionally strong will. She did not mention the red thread of fate.

“Doesn’t sound terribly useful,” his father groused.

“Really, Gabriel?” his mother said under her breath.

Alice didn’t react beyond stiffening her jaw. “My mom’s gift is more impressive to witness, but being able to clock a lie has helped me more times than I can count.”

“I’m afraid my son’s father lacks imagination, dear,” Vesta said wryly, before muttering, “Among other things.” Gabriel stared at his nearly empty drink with tight lips.

“Her ability also saved her from becoming a vampire’s dinner last night,” Silas added, sending his father a cold stare. “He tried to hypnotize her and failed.”

His mother gasped. “Oh, my goodness! I imagine that was quite upsetting,” she said to Alice.

His father actually had the decency to look guilty, to Silas’s amazement.