Later that night, after everyone had half-recovered from the war of words, the dinner settled into something almost resembling normal.
Remember the keyword almost.
Sylen kept shooting glares across the room at Jules. Jules kept ignoring him like he was a fly she couldn't be bothered to swat.
Dusken had taken up permanent residence at Niah's feet, occasionally snorting into his paws like the memory of it kept replaying in his head.
Zaire looked way too pleased with himself for someone who wasn't technically supposed to enjoy chaos. With a mischievous glint, he caught Dusken's eye and raised an eyebrow. Dusken responded with a dramatic paw wiggle, their secret code.
Operation Mayhem?
Zaire barely moved his head, just a slight nod.
Approved.
Dusken's tail thumped once against the cold floor in excitement.
Zaire leaned back in his chair, pretending to sip his wine, speaking low so that only Dusken could hear.
"I knew she was the one," Zaire murmured in their telepathic conversation, smirking behind his glass. "Sharp tongue, no fear, exactly the kind of mess Sylen can't walk away from."
Dusken's eyes sparkled in agreement.
"But we need more," Zaire said thoughtfully, tapping the rim of his glass. "If we leave them like this, they'll just circle each other and never actually crash."
Dusken lifted his paw and swiped it sideways dramatically.
Pushthem even more.
Zaire chuckled under his breath. "Hard."
Across the room, Sylen and Jules were still throwing occasional jabs at each other, thinly veiled as "small talk."
"Maybe you should write a book," Jules was saying airily. "'How to be Dramatic in Three Easy Steps.' I bet you'd be a bestseller."
Sylen's laugh was low and dangerous. "And maybe you should read one. 'How to Recognize a Bad Idea When You See One.' It might save your petty life."
Jules gasped, hand to her chest in mock offence. "Oh no! An empty threat from Mr Sparkles. God, Help me! I'm shaking with fear."
Sylen's jaw twitched like he was two seconds away from throwing her over his shoulder just to shut her up.
Niah watched all this unfold with a sort of horrified fascination, halfway hiding her face behind her glass. 'Thank God I wore glasses today, ' she thought.
Dr Throne, Father Delran, and even Crenna were all watching, like it was a live gladiator match.
Zaire leaned a little closer to Dusken and whispered, "We need a real shove."
Dusken, delighted beyond belief, gave a little nod and motioned with his tail.
Zaire grinned, "Oh, I have just the idea."
He rose from his seat with a casual stretch, then clapped his hands once to get everyone's attention.
"Alright," he said, voice smooth as silk. "Since we're all gathered here, and it's such a rare, special occasion, why don't we pair up for a little exercise?"
Sylen narrowed his eyes immediately. "Exercise? What exercise?"
Zaire smiled innocently.
"Team building, trust games. You know, to strengthen the alliances."
Jules snorted. "I don't trust him to pass me the salt, forget about anything else."
"Perfect," Zaire said cheerfully. "You guys are partners then."
Dead silence.
Sylen looked like someone had just stabbed him.
Jules looked like she was seriously considering throwing her chair out the window.
Niah wanted to crawl under the table and never come out again.
Dusken, meanwhile, was flat on his back, howling with silent laughter.
"Zaire," Sylen said dangerously, "this is a terrible idea."
Zaire beamed. "Sylen...I think its a brilliant idea."
Jules crossed her arms. "Fine by me. Let's see if you can keep up, Sparkles."
Sylen cracked his knuckles. "You're going to regret every word, Trouble."
Zaire leaned down, stage-whispering to Dusken, "This is the Best. Dinner. Ever."
Dusken just gave a little salute with his paw.
And so, under the blood-stone sky and the thinning Veil, the real battle began, not with swords or spells, but with sharp tongues, stubborn hearts, and the kind of fireworks even the gods would stop to watch.
* * *