Chapter 6

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Upon reentering the great hall, I saw that the troupe of players and a few singers had set themselves upon the platform that had just sealed the seven women to their fates. Father was standing beside the musicians, a jolly look on his face. With his red cheeks and glassy eyes, it was clear he was drunk — or close enough to it. I scanned the room for any hidden place I might hide myself to avoid yet another retelling of my unnatural birth. With an audience this big and his mood this vivid, there was no chance I was escaping the night without hearing the tale. My fear halted, however, feeling the warmth of Alex by my side. We exchanged timid smiles.

"Please! Let us have all the newly engaged couples come to the dance floor! Let them open the festivities with the first dance!" Father yelled, raising his cup into the air with such vigor that the wine sloshed over the sides.

The seven couples walked forward, Walther nobly leading the way with a tight, humorless smile. He held the hand of the defiant, black-eyed girl. She looked at him with loathing. Neither of them looked interested by the prospect of a dance.

"They look exceedingly unhappy," Alex remarked.

I noted that he had to bend somewhat to speak into my ear. Humming my agreement, I regarded the faces of the other couples. Their general glumness cast a pall over the allegedly joyous celebration. Only the first girl, the one whose lover had succeeded in claiming her, smiled. Scanning the room, it seemed Bess had disappeared. I didn't blame her.

"They will never make me Stand," I swore, chiefly to myself. Anger colored my words and made them fierce and defiant.

"It is a tradition I'm glad not to be beholden to," Alex agreed coolly. As a Mainlander, he was not party to our customs. He was free to court and marry as he pleased.

I tried not to blush, tried not to think of who he might want to court and marry. The issue had not seemed so pressing when we were children, but older now, and surrounded by Stood for couples, I felt its weight.

"It's barbaric," I ground out, clenching my fists.

"Perhaps," Alex replied with schooled diplomacy. A well-bred gentleman had taken control of my once irreverent friend. With a tilted head, he watched as the couples danced.

I scoffed, annoyed at his nonchalance, his serenity. Flustered by his reappearance and his confusing, uncomfortable unfamiliarity. We could have been strangers. Still, it was energizing to have someone willing to linger nearby and engage me in conversation.

"Of course you would agree," I said coldly, "men get to do the bidding."

Alex shrugged and offered me a coy smile, "Is there a rule that forbids women from doing the Standing?"

"I—" I had no idea. The rules, if any existed, had never been explained to me in any detail.

Alex grinned and laughed, "Do not fret, Eilean. I promise I will save you from any untoward engagements when the time comes."

I gaped, blinking at his words. Before I could think of anything to say in response, Alex bowed.

"I must go thank your father for extending me an invitation to the Gathering. It is very good to see you again."

Protocol trained into me by my exacting mother had me bobbing a curtsy in reply. "My father invited you? Whatever for?"

Alex shrugged again, "Of the motive I am unsure, but I am not unhappy to be here. Stormway has always felt like home." He then turned on his heel and was melting into the crowd before I could appreciate his company.

Now abandoned and reeling over his puzzling formality and turns of phrase, I returned to the head table and tried to quell the offense that I had been brushed me off so promptly. Clearly, we had grown apart. The thought troubled me. Filling a wine glass with sparkling, golden wine, I forced myself to admit that neither of us had attempted to maintain correspondence for the past three years. It was unfair to hold him to standards of childhood friendship.

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