I glance back at Penn, mouth agape. “Should we—”
“I’ll get him to the guest villa.” He’s already halfway out of his chair, expression stormy. “The buffoon needs to sleep it off in a bed.”
I don’t know whether to feel concerned or amused as I watch Penn cutting through the sea of swaying couples to Farley’s prone form.
“Do you think he needs help carrying him down the steps?” I ask Cadogan.
When I receive no response, I turn to face the soldier at the end of our table. He’s in the same position he’s been for the past few hours: body eerily still, unfocused gaze trained at the siren sisters. His tidy mop of bright blond hair is uncharacteristically mussed.
“Hey!” I snap a finger to get his attention. “Cadogan!”
He blinks twice, as if to clear a fog, then meets my eyes. His brows quirk in confusion. “Sorry, did you say something?”
Skies.
“Farley’s taken a tumble on the dance floor. Too much Titan gin, not enough common sense. Pendefyre’s gone to carry him down to your villa. Which you would know, if you’d been paying attention to a single thing that’s happened this evening.”
“Ah.” A hint of a blush creeps up the side of Cadogan’s neck. “Right. I was…”
“Entranced?” I finish wryly. “I can see that.”
He runs a hand through his messy mane. It’s an odd sight, him so disheveled. He’s usually the picture of self-discipline. “I’m sure Farley will be fine,” he mutters. “Pendefyre won’t even punish him. Tomorrow’s journey home will be punishment enough. Nothing worse than a hangover on the high seas. He’ll spend most of the sail to Caeldera heaving over the side, I wager.”
I grimace. “Poor Farley.”
“No more than he deserves.” A shade of his typicalsolemnity creeps back into Cadogan’s expression as our stares hold. “And you? Will you be sailing with us tomorrow?”
A lump lodges in my throat. “I…I don’t know yet.”
“Mmm. Well, you’d better make up your mind soon. We leave at daybreak.” He looks back at the sirens, mouth instantly going slack. “Even if there are reasons we wish we could delay…”
His words are a stark reminder that I still have not made a decision about my rapidly approaching future. I am running out of time to choose. I can feel each second ticking away, each passing moment slipping through my fingers like sand in an hourglass.
A part of me wants nothing more than to pick up the pieces of my old life again. To settle back into the familiarity of the crater, with its roaring falls and jewel-toned lake. Mornings in the infirmary, healing patients who need me. Tea with Carys as baby Nevin naps. Evenings with Lestyn, poring over medicinal texts. Sparring lessons with Jac. Rounds of twyllo with Farley.
And Penn.
Everything…with Penn.
I can see it so clearly: a fresh start in Caeldera, mine for the taking. But each time I think of leaving Llyr, my heart feels as though it will be torn in two.
Gods, what is happening?
Why do I feel this way?
When did the path beneath my feet diverge in two?
I need clarity. I need advice. I need someone, anyone, to tell me what to do, for I feel woefully unequipped to make the decision on my own.
Almost before I’m consciously aware of it, my senses are reaching out for a familiar presence. Seeking out a person I’ve grown accustomed to turning to with a near constant torrent ofquestions about everything under the sun. A person who is always available with answers to all of life’s many curiosities. A person whose insight—and whose presence—has been woefully absent from me all day.
Soren.
It’s almost amusing: weeks ago, if someone had asked whether I could ever trust such a man with my innermost confidences and deepest shames, I would’ve laughed in their face. How strange, then, that he is the only person whose counsel I want at this crossroads I’ve come to. The only one whose opinion about my future truly seems to matter.
I want, with a shocking desperation, to know how he feels about the prospect of my leaving his city. If I’m honest with myself, it is more than a mere want. It is a need. Without it, there is a hole punched straight through my list of pros and cons, a missing weight upon the scales that sway in the winds of my destiny.
I must speak to him.