Soul of Ice

Chapter Sixteen

The guards were in the breakfast hall the next morning. As they walked in, Rousel explained that they did that every other week.

"It's a way to build camaraderie." He shrugged. "Or at least, that's what Riviera told me anyway. I think they just do it to get away from having to watch us eat. That, and a lot of the guards find me hilarious." Next to him, Jesper's expression was carefully devoid of expression, but then twirled his finger at his temple when his brother had looked away. Astra had to stifle a laugh.

Riviera was already sitting at a table, laughing and touching her feet lightly against a guard's, who sat across from her. They were about halfway across the room to joining her when Astra caught sight of Jemma waving at her to join her table. Split-second decision—there was no doubt that sticking with three people who were on the top five rankings would give her a greater advantage than sticking with a single person.

"I'll see you two later," she told Rousel and Jesper, leaving them before they could stop her.

"Of course she leaves before I can get a joke in," Rousel mock whispered to his brother, loud enough for Astra to hear and snort. She didn't need to look back to know Jesper had given Rousel a smack on the head.

The fire wraith brothers were growing on her. That much she knew.

"Hey!" she called to Jemma, Ciril, and Anya. The latter ignored her while the former two greeted her happily. "Good mornings, I hope?"

"Certainly!" Jemma exclaimed brightly. "And look who joined us this morning?" She motioned at the person sitting across from her, and Astra almost tripped over her feet. Pascal. The Captain of the Wraith Guard flashed an almost amicable smile at her.

"Hello, Calayne." Do not antagonize him, she warned herself before she forced herself to take the only seat open—the one next to him. To her satisfaction though, she noticed that his hair was still nowhere near as long as it had been before she'd burned it.

"How are you this morning, Captain?" She was pleased to find that her voice was calm and neutral. Maybe she had something to thank Xernes for after all.

"No fire in you today?" Pascal commented, amused.

"Why be fire when you can be ice?" Across from them, Jemma, Ciril, and Anya had turned to talk amongst themselves, albeit with occasional glances at them that told Astra that they were definitely eavesdropping.

"True," the captain mused. "After all, there are fewer ice wraiths here than fire or even wind." That was news to her.

"Then it must be easy to pick a favorite among the ice wraiths."

Pascal had a shark-like smile. "I don't play favorites."

"Then what do you play?" she asked, curious, and feeling like she was on the verge of dancing over a very fine line.

"I play everything." If Pascal had been on the other side of the line before, he was definitely over it now. They'd crossed into a danger zone—a good thing she had years of experience with dangerous. Reaching over, Astra plucked a grape from Pascal's plate and popped it into her mouth. The sweet flavor exploded on her tongue. The captain watched her, unblinking, as she chewed and then swallowed.

"There is a game I like to play with my favored wraiths," he said.

"I thought you don't play favorites."

"I don't." He smirked at her. "Favored. Not favorite."

"Oh? Alright," she conceded. She reached over to pluck another grape. "Alright. And am I one of your favored wraiths?" He grabbed her wrist, and she let him, letting the fact that she could crush the grape and break his wrist in half a second focus her.