Chapter 761 It's Just A Little War

• Book 16
• Lexa
• The packhouse in Silverhide is cast in dim, amber light that radiates from rustic candlelit chandeliers arranged in a row high above my head. Mom stands near the dormant fireplace talking in low tones to Aunt Mercy and Uncle Jacob. Even standing beside her, I can barely hear their murmured conversation over the crowd gathered along the long wooden tables that take up most of the space in the communal dining hall. Familiar faces huddle over the remains of a rather average dinner where more wine and mead was served than anything else. There’s an undercurrent of tension in the room that’s so palpable I can taste it–bitter, sour, something that sticks to the roof of my mouth and can’t be washed away by the wine. So do the others as they lower their heads, whispering, glancing at my mother, their Luna, for direction.