"May I present Yestin and Eiria," Gabriel said, and the man and woman nodded in turn. "Not members of the Blood Council, but, shall we say, visiting nobles who have an interest in seeing Dark Haven restored."
"A pleasure to meet you," Jonmarc said. Eiria smiled, and Jonmarc noticed that she lacked the long eye teeth of the vayash moru. Her violet eyes seemed to see right through him, and he shuddered, remembering the wolf.
"Our families have watched over the Lords of Dark Haven for generations," Yestin said, taking Eiria's arm. "Many of our kin died in the service of Dark Haven. We offer our
welcome, and our deepest wishes for a long and prosperous tenure."
Jonmarc did not mention the fact that the last lords of Dark Haven had not lived long enough to enjoy their holding. But before he could think of a reply, Yestin and Eiria slipped away in the crowd, moving with dancers' grace.
"And this is Lord Rafe, with his second, Tamaq," Gabriel said, shifting Jonmarc's attention. Rafe carried himself with military bearing. He had short-cropped, sandy-colored hair and a perfectly trimmed beard. With him was a pale young man with the look of a scholar or a priest. "Your reputation precedes you, Lord Vahanian."
"Which reputation is that?"
Rafe smiled, showing the tips of his eye teeth above his lips. "Many. I have kin in Eastmark. They were witness to Chauvrenne. And the ways of the Nargi are well known to our kind. You've survived the kind of trials many vayash moru have not. Perhaps the Lady's hand is on
you." "If so, She has an odd way of showing it." Rafe's expression was unreadable. "Always." "I understand you were in the presence of the Obsidian King himself," Tamaq said.
Jonmarc nodded. "I saw the battle when Tris destroyed him."
Tamaq's eyes glittered with a thirst for information. "Then at some other time, we must talk. In my mortal life, I fought against the Obsidian King at his last rising. But I never personally saw him."
"Count yourself lucky."
Rafe made a parting bow. "We have much to talk about, Lord Vahanian. Be well." At that, Rafe and Tamaq moved back into the press of the crowd. Jonmarc felt more than heard a presence behind him.
"You must be Jonmarc Vahanian."
Jonmarc turned to face the speaker. She was a beautiful woman with chestnut-colored hair. Her face and form looked to be that of a girl in her twenties, but the woman's eyes spoke of centuries. She was on the arm of a young vayash moru who looked to be barely out of his teens, pale even by vayasb moru standards, his pallor heightened by his curly red hair. "I'm Astasia, and this is Cailan."