Candra explained about Eloine and Eldivo’s secret rendezvous and rattled on about plans for another tree house until we were spotted from the house. The kitchen door opened and Adreet came out wiping hands on her apron with Galatea and Eloine in her wake. Eloine ran out to us, arms spread wide to be swung around and hugged. Galatea hung back at her mother’s side, but when the Sept Son wasn’t looking, she straightened her skirts and touched a hand to her hair.
“Ilias,” Adreet exclaimed as she approached. He leaned down so that she could place an affectionate peck on his cheek as he hugged her. “Errol said you were coming, but he couldn’t say when.”
“Where is your escort?” Eloine asked.
“He is playing hooky,” Candra explained as she danced around them all in excitement.
“The rest should be here any minute.” The Sept Son smiled at Galatea, taking her hand and bowing over it like a gentleman. “You have grown, Teaia. When I last saw you, you were still in braids.”
Galatea fluttered her eyes and blushed becomingly. Something within my stomach turned.
“Come in. Come in,” Adreet instructed, waving us all toward the open back door. “Lunch is just about ready and if I am about to have more visitors, I need to get working on cooking for them.”
“Don’t bother, Adreet.” The Sept Son looked up as he disentangled himself from Candra’s grasp. “They have their own supplies. We won’t need to inconvenience you.”
“You at least will eat with us,” Eloine demanded.
He laughed. The warm sound flooded my senses and I couldn’t help remembering the first night we had met. He had laughed like that then. But this sound was slightly different. Laced with sorrow, it held only traces of the freedom that I had heard in his voice almost three years ago. Yes, something was wrong.
Everyone moved in a loud body with the Sept Son in the center. I hung back and watched as all four of the Silas women vied for his attention.
“Kind of makes me jealous.”
I jumped at the sound of Errol’s amused voice. I glanced over to find Errol at my elbow watching the throng with amusement.
“Definitely jealous,” Selwyn added as he joined us on my right. His voice was far from amused.
“He is different, Errol,” I said. Somehow, I knew I couldn’t keep my feelings to myself. The sense of something important was so strong.
“How so?” Errol’s strange green eyes studied my face as I struggled to put the sensation into words.
“I am not sure what it is yet, but he is different and something is wrong. I feel that if I have time, I can tell you more, but right now it is just an overwhelming sense of pain and deep sorrow.”
Errol frowned as he met Selwyn’s gaze over my head. There was no sending between them, but somehow they communicated something. “Keep studying and let me know when you know,” he said finally.
I nodded. I would. Whether or not Errol and Selwyn wished me to, I intended to study the Sept Son until I understood this strange cloud that surrounded him.
“Come,” Selwyn flung an arm over my shoulders. “I am hungry.”
We entered the house and were immediately drawn into the fray.
As I had hoped, I was able to study the Sept Son to my heart’s content over the meal. I watched his every movement from cutting his meat to leaning over to hear Candra’s latest tale. Beginning with his external appearance, I began cataloguing the differences between this man and the one I had met briefly three years before.
He wore his hair shorter now. Thick and dark brown, it curled around his ears and rioted across his forehead. Traces of silver at his temples caught in the sunlight from the windows. When he pushed his hair back to see Galatea’s ring, a gift from Tyre, more closely, he uncovered a scar on his forehead above his left eyebrow. His face had aged too, more than it should have in three years. Fine wrinkles webbed his eyes and the lines around his mouth were pronounced even in laughter. He was still handsome and still charming, but an edginess lay underneath where only peace had been before.
Once, while I was observing him, he turned from commenting on Eloine’s gardening story and met my gaze. His rich brown eyes met mine and he shot me a half-smile. With nervous clarity, I knew he was aware of my scrutiny. Then, just as abruptly, he turned away to answer one of Galatea’s questions.
The last of the meat disappeared just as a pounding on the door ended the meal and the jocularity. An intense sending aimed at the Sept Son made me jump and look at him in apprehension. He was grimacing.
Turning to me he said, “Your brother has a sharp tongue.” Another sending followed the first and finally the Sept Son replied. “I am fine, Renato. Give us a chance to get to the door.”
My face must have shown my surprise because suddenly Candra asked, “Why is your mouth hanging open, Zez? You can’t be that surprised to know your brother has a sharp tongue.”
All the faces around the table turned to me. I clamped my jaw closed and reached for Errol’s mind. “I heard the Sept Son’s sending to my brother.”
His astonishment rolled over me, quickly followed by a more sober thought. “Does he know?”
I shrugged. We both looked at the Sept Son. He was regarding me with a puzzled, concerned face.
“What is going on here?” he asked. I didn’t catch who he sent it to, but I heard it clearly as the rich taste of his presence filled my mouth.
Ignoring the impatient knock on the outer door, Errol stood to his feet. “Ilias, Zezilia, Selwyn, my office, now.”
“But what about the door?” Adreet exclaimed as she rose also.
“Let them in after we are gone and explain that the Sept
