Chapter 404: Isolde's Shame

“Alright,” the prince said, slamming his cup of wine down on the table. “I tire of this dancing around the bush. No more shall I walk on eggshells over this.”

The entire table paused mid-feast, their eyes wandering to Khalik as he sat tall in his chair and squared his shoulders as though he were about to carry an enormous weight.

In the sky above, the stream of ghosts had long faded and Alex’s group—along with others on the beach—were now deep into that easiest of traditions in the entirety of the Festival of Ghosts: feasting on all the food they’d brought so the dining would be finished by sunset.

Within the first hour, they’d made an admirable effort: a growing majority of their tables’ dishes were now empty, shared between each other, with much of the food disappearing down the throat of a certain hulking shark man.

Said shark man had then been reprimanded by a certain shark man’s older, adoptive sister:

“Don’t eat all the food, Grimloch!” she’d complained. “I told you to mind your manners. There are other people here!”

“It’s okay,” Selina had said. “It’s fun this way!”

The young girl had speared several pieces of fish on her fork and tossed them across the table into Grimloch’s open and waiting jaws.

“Three points!” Kybas had called, writing the number down on a scoreboard he’d made from an empty platter. He had been keeping a tally of points using a spoon and a spare bowl of mustard.

“Not bad,” Malcolm had said, buffing his fingernails on his jacket. “But you’re four behind me. “I guess you’re a few years too young to compete against me.”

“Does it make you feel proud to beat a child?” Rhea had asked, her voice holding a bit of a chiding edge.

“Yes,” Malcolm had said evenly.

“My man.” Alex had grinned with approval, drawing an evil glare from Selina and a shake of the head from Theresa.

“Will you all stop enabling him!” Nua-Oge groaned.

“Look,” Thundar patted the selachar woman on the shoulder. “No offence, but I’m pretty sure getting between your brother and food is a good way to join the ghost-stream at next year’s Festival. And the last thing I want my epitaph to be is, ‘Here lies Thundar, he was eaten by a friend’!”

He’d paused, looking at Grimloch. “We are friends, right?”

“Yes.”

“Oh good…wait, you don’t eat friends, right?”

“No promises.”

“Well, there ya go!” Thundar had shrugged at Nua-Oge. “And that’s why I’m not doing it. You want your dirty work done? Do it yourself.”

The selachar had rolled her eyes. “Fine!” She’d looked at Grimloch. “Little brother, you’re banned from eating any more of our food. You’re going to leave some for others.”

“Or what?” Grimloch had snorted.

“Or I’m telling mother and father when we go back home.”

The shark man had paused. “Dirty.”

She’d crossed her arms. “But it needs to be done.”

Grimloch had sat in silence for a moment, mulling things over. Then he’d shot out of his seat and rushed to the central table; to the food brought by the Watchers. Folk at other tables had already begun picking at it, but Alex’s group was still focused on their own food; they’d brought more than enough, after all.

Things at the central table had changed when the walking disaster known as Grimloch raided it. Alex saw the colour drain from the Watchers’ faces as the shark man piled platter after platter high with food. Then—as he was about to head back to their table—a Watcher had leaned over and said something to him.

With a single grunt, he’d reached out and grabbed a small barrel before striding proudly back to his seat.

“Before you say anything,” Grimloch had said. “Remember, you stopped me from eating our food. Not food the Watchers brought.”

Nua-Oge had stared at him for a long, quiet moment, before her head had slowly fallen into her hands. “Why…why do I bother?”

“I don’t know,” Grimloch had grunted. “Anyway, I brought presents.” He slammed the barrel on the table. “Pumpkin ale. Provided by the Watchers.”

The entire table had gone still.

“Oh no,” Nua-Oge, Eyvinder, Shiani and Selina had said as one.

“Oh yes!” Thundar, Alex, Sinope, Caramiyus, Angelar, Prince Khalik, Malcolm and Rhea had contradicted them. Hogarth rubbed his hands together like a greedy fly, while Svenia was already scrambling for her cup.

As one they’d lunged for the barrel.

Even Isolde had given it a long look. “Perhaps…perhaps just a bit.”

And soon, they were well into their cups.

Now, there was a good amount of swaying from members of Alex’s group. A good deal of…‘merriness’.

And Prince Khalik was one of the merriest of all.

Alex looked down at the sand. “Walking on eggshells?” he giggled. “I think you mean sea shells.”

Silence followed.

“Because…because we’re on a beach,” he explained.

“We got it, Alex,” Selina said, hanging her head in shame.

“Well, I thought it was funny,” Theresa took a long sip of her pumpkin ale.

“You have awful taste, Theresa,” Selina said.

But the huntress was already having more ale. “Goodness, this is good. Father and mother would kill to have a keg of this at the inn.”

“I would kill to have a keg of it in my room!” Khalik laughed uproariously.

“Oh please, Khal,” Sinope touched his arm. “You only say that because you’ve never tasted my peoples’ fall wild apricot brew. I swear, one sip of it and you’ll never be able to drink anything else.”

“Wait…wait…wait!” Thundar raised an eyebrow, swaying slightly in his seat. “Wait, Khal? Who’s Khal, when did Khalhappen?”

“Yeah!” Alex said, resting his cup on the table. “What is this Khal business?”

“Indeed,” Isolde smiled, her face slightly red and her electric blue eyes dancing. She bobbed back and forth.

“That is of little importance,” Khalik waved their questions off.”

“Yeah, says you!” Alex said. “Khal is a major development! The people need to know!”

“You fools, you are being distracted from the true mystery,” Khalik grinned, his smile turning sly behind his thick beard. He leaned toward Isolde. “Isolde, my dear, wondrous friend.”

“Yes, Khalik?” She smiled sweetly. “Are you sure you wish to verbally fence with me? You have had a few more than I.”

“Indeed, but I can take a few more than you, and I would not be so confident, all things considered,” he said, mysteriously. “And besides, there will be no fencing. There will be a single question. Then you will shatter like glass in a hailstorm.”

“Oh?” Isolde cocked her head. “And, praytell, what sort of question is that?”

Khalik’s smile widened, like a spider who’d just witnessed a hapless wasp land in its web. “What is it with you…and redheads?”

Alex and Theresa gasped.

Thundar choked on his drink.

Selina looked around in confusion.

“I’m not going to be able to defend you this time, Lady von Anmut,” Hogarth said, quickly tucking into his food.

“This foe is beyond me,” Svenia said apologetically, draining her cup of ale.

The others at the table glanced at each other.

Isolde, however, seemed not quite to understand exactly what had occured at first. She smiled, nodded. Thought it over for a moment.

And then all the colour drained from her face.

Her face went slightly blank. “I…I do not know what you are talking about.”

“Oh holy hells, are we doing this?” Alex looked at Khalik, Theresa and Thundar.

“Oh hell yes we are,” the minotaur grinned viciously, leaning over the table and pursing his fingers beneath his chin. “Come oooon, Isolde, we all have eyes. Don’t think we haven’t noticed how you act around tall, redheaded—”

“And shirtless,” Alex also grinned viciously, leaning over the table and pursing his fingers beneath his chin. He and Thundar looked like the most mismatched twins in all the world’s history. Isolde looked between the two of them like a deer flanked by hungry wolves, then glanced at Theresa for help.

“I’m sorry, Isolde.” The huntress grinned like the cat who had gotten the cream. “I’m on their side this time. You do seem to have…a particular type of prey.”

The young noblewoman went beet red. “What…I am quite unaware of what you mean! It is obvious that you all have had much too much to drink.”

“Oh I am not so sure you are one to speak of how much we have drunk,” Prince Khalik chuckled evilly. “After all, it is your face that is as red as the hair on your preferred type. You must have drunk a great deal, after all, why else would your face be red? Unless of course…there is something you are embarrassed by. Now what could that be, I wonder?”

She went even redder. “I have no idea what any of you are talking about! None! Zero! You are all courting madness!”

“Um,” Selina said. “I don’t know what anyone’s talking about either.”

“They are talking about nothing, the ruiners!” the young noblewoman glared at all of them. “Nothing!”

Silence followed.

“The lady doth protest too much,” Malcolm said.

“And here I thought the food was spicy,” Rhea added.

“I smell blood in the air,” said Caramiyus.

“And in the water,” Grimloch added.

“Well, Isolde would probably like that.” Alex smirked. “Considering that it’s red.”

“Roth. Lu. Son of Gulbiff. …Khal,” she avoided using the prince’s surname. “I swear if you keep this up I will end you.”

“Keep what up?” the prince cocked his head. “Come to think of it, did you not say that we were drunk and essentially speaking of nothing? Why are there consequences to keeping nothing up?”

“Yeah, just some good ol’ innocent nothing,” Alex cackled like a crow. “What’s wrong with doing nothing? I could understand if we were doing something. But nothing? That’s just rude to stop us!”

“I am warning you…” Isolde growled.

“Oh, right! Warnings!” Thundar brightened, half-rising from his seat. “I’d better go warn Tyris that someone might be on the prowl for her—”

Theresa nearly spit out her drink.

“Son. Of. Gulbiff!” Isolde’s voice cracked like an icicle sheathed whip. “I swear on all the elements that if you take onestep toward Goldtooth’s table, I shall pull out every single strand of your fur one. Piece. At. A. Time.”

“Oooooooh,” Grimloch grunted. “I was just going along before, but now I get it. This is about her crush on Cedric.”

Isolde’s horrified silence filled the air while her friends vibrated with barely suppressed laughter.

“Wait…” Selina’s eyes went very, very wide. “You like Cedric? Like the Chosen of Uldar, Cedric? Oh, he does have red hair. …but so did Derek. Do you like guys with red hair, Isolde?”

The look that Selina gave the tall, young noblewoman was one of complete and utter innocence. It was the kind of look Alex hadn’t quite seen on his sister since she was about eight years old, and he didn’t know if she really was just asking an innocent question…or if she was the most secretly evil of everyone.

Isolde’s choked scream in response was loud enough to draw glances from nearby tables.

“I…I do not have a crush on Cedric of Clan Duncan,” she said in a voice about as firm as wet paper. “He is…a valuable, respectable acquaintance. A Hero to a kingdom that is close in relation to my realm. A man of importance and a great help to the expedition!”

“He also has lots of big muscles, lots of tattoos and he never, ever wears a shirt,” Theresa pointed out.

“Indeed—And that is entirely irrelevant!” Isolde glared at her, grabbing her ale and draining half the cup. “I am not some cat in heat! If! If the Chosen of Uldar were to grace my thoughts beyond a professional capacity—which he does not, I assure you—I would most likely focus on his bravery, the openness of his mind, the stoutness of his heart, his sense of justice, the ease of his smile, which is punctuated by his gold tooth rather than marred by it. Ah! There is the fact that he is an excellent listener! These are all things that would be of far more interest to me than the width of his shoulders, shape of his jaw or the way his hair falls to his collar bones. And…and…”

The table had again gone silent with utter glee, then broke into uncontrollable laughter.

Shiani awkwardly sipped a glass of water. “Oh dear,” the young woman said. “I know it’s late fall, but is it just me or did it just get a lot warmer outside?”

Isolde’s scream of horror perfectly aligned with her friends’ endless, roaring laughter.

“Don’t worry, Isolde!” Thundar clapped her on the back while she doubled over, her flaming-red face in her hands. “The cabal has your back in all areas!”

“That is right!” Prince Khalik said triumphantly. “We shall help you pluck your next red rose!”

“We’ll make a heroic effort,” Alex agreed.

Isolde’s scream rose higher into the sky.

“Hey,” Gregori leaned around the table. “That woman screaming like that…isn’t that your ex-girlfriend?”

“Nooot remotely my business,” Derek said, forcing his eyes to stay on his food. “Actually, could you pass me that?” Before anyone in the Brotherhood could say anything, he grabbed a pitcher of beer.

“Thanks.”

And poured liberally.