ICE

87. Underestimated

RAVENNA EASED INTO the chair to Tylat's right, with Vyses and Lyth sliding into the chairs situated across from her. The table in front of her was filled with empty plates, colored white and decorated with blue geometric designs around the edges. On either side of the plates sat a collection of silverware, including forks and spoons of all sizes, all shaped from steel.

Tylat lifted a hand. He snapped his fingers and a thin cloud of magic appeared. It crawled across the table, rolling over the centermost plates in soft waves. As the magic moved, it left an assortment of food in its wake. Ravenna's eyes scanned the table, taking in the various vegetables and fruits that accumulated. A roasted chicken appeared, followed by slabs of cooked beef and a whole pig.

Vyses cleared his throat. "This is more than enough food," he told Tylat with a small smile. "Your generous hospitality is greatly appreciated; however, I fear that we will be unable to eat it all. There is no need to waste food."

The cloudy magic appeared to fizzle out of existence. Tylat leaned back in his seat and gestured to the food. "As you wish," he said. He waved his hand and the plates lifted into the air. "Please, enjoy and eat as much as you'd like. We have plenty more if needed."

Ravenna's eyes widened as the plates moved closer to her. Vyses and Lyth received the same treatment. Once they gathered some of the food onto their own plates, the plates shifted places, moving between the three of them to distribute as much as possible. Ravenna mostly focused on the fruits and vegetables. The meat emitted a strange scent that made her stomach churn with uneasiness.

The moment their plates were full, the floating plates returned to their spots on the table. Tylat had acquired a small amount of food of his own, including a variety of vegetables and a bowl of chicken broth. Vyses and Lyth immediately dug into their meals. Lyth plowed through the food in front of him, as if he were a starving child seeing food for the first time. Vyses ate in a slower, more refined manner. He turned toward Tylat and tried to spark a conversation.

"How long have you dabbled in magic?" he asked Tylat around a bite of chicken.

"Longer than you could comprehend," Tylat answered.

Vyses eyes widened. Ravenna's attention drifted away from the conversation at hand. Her focus remained more on the food in front of her. She poked at it with her fork, examining it. The vegetables didn't have a strange smell, like the meat, but there was something off about it. Something deep in her gut seemed to flutter with nerves the moment she considered eating anything.

"Magic has been around for centuries." Ravenna picked up on snippets of the conversation, listening to a sentence here and there. She poked at her food, rolling it around on top of her plate.

"Many advancements have been made, especially within the last fifty years. It has been entertaining to observe."

Ravenna stabbed at a piece of broccoli. It almost rolled over the edge of her plate. She pursed her lips, deciding to forgo eating any of the food. If someone pressed for a reason, she would explain that she felt ill, and that whatever illness festered inside her would only worsen with food. It wouldn't necessarily be a lie, either. Her stomach rolled with so much uneasiness that she felt she could be sick at any moment.

"Women have no place in magic," Tylat said abruptly, drawing Ravenna's attention back to the conversation around her. She glanced up, surprised to find him staring at her, his eyes narrowed with disdain.

"I have to respectfully disagree," Vyses remarked. He smiled nicely at Tylat and explained, "Women tend to provide an alternative viewpoint, a fresh take upon preexisting spells, I find."

Tylat clicked his tongue. "Nonsense," he said. "Women are meant to be in the kitchen, cooking the food. They are meant to be cleaning the house and caring for children. Their bodies, their minds are not meant to pursue the magical arts. At least not seriously. Magic is far too advanced for a woman's mind to comprehend."

Anger boiled through Ravenna's veins. "I beg your pardon!"

Vyses cleared his throat, throwing a warning glance her way. Ravenna ignored him. Her fork clattered against the table. "The abilities of my mind and body, in relation to anything magical and non-magical, are none of your business. At all. I am an individual just like you. And I can pursue magical arts just as much as you can."

"Ravenna," Vyses whispered sternly at her.

Tylat simply laughed. The sound was mean and nasally, almost a mocking laugh. "You allow your woman such freedom, Vyses," he remarked. His gaze skewered him with a sharp look. "You would do well to teach her to hold her tongue."

Ravenna's jaw clenched. "I am not his woman," she spat out. "I am not property."

Vyses stood. He stared at her intently, his eyes quietly begging her for silence. "Ravenna, may I please speak with you? Privately?"

She shot him a dark glare and climbed to her feet. "Oh, don't worry," she told him, her lips curling around a sweet smile. "I will take my leave now. I wouldn't want my man to feel embarrassed because I cannot control my tongue. Heavens forbid that you feel uncomfortable right now."

Vyses squeezed his eyes shut. He opened his mouth to speak, an exasperated expression plaguing his features, but Ravenna had already turned away. She glowered at him, her anger sizzling, and abandoned her uneaten food on the table. Ice danced across her knuckles as she made her way toward the great hall.

When she reached the doorway, she paused and glanced back over her shoulder. "Oh," she remarked coolly, her gaze focused on Tylat. "I must admit that I do pity you, Tylat. I am certain that your vendetta against women stems from the fact that you simply can't attain the affections of one. Maybe if you removed the sword from your rear, and acted more respectful toward women, you wouldn't have to worry about living the remainder of your life as a crusty, lonely old hermit."

Ravenna turned away from them. Vyses made a small sound, and Tylat didn't seem to react. Ignoring them, she made her way toward the second story. As she walked, she grumbled under her breath. Her nails dug into the palms of her heels. She wasn't quite sure how the conversation managed to take such a harsh, offensive path. But nothing could be said or done to excuse Tylat's words. Underestimating a woman's ability was a grave mistake.

A mistake he would discover soon enough, when her soldiers tore the city around them apart and she claimed control.