Everything inside me feels tangled. Decisions that once seemed clear as the crystal of my goblet are veiled with hesitancy. Penn’s letter should’ve made the choice simple. He wants me back. I should return to Caeldera. There is no reason for me to stay.
There is no reason for you to go,a small voice whispers at the back of my mind.There is nothing down that path but pain.
The silence stretches as we eat for several minutes. Soren’s eyes linger on me across the table as he takes long sips of his wine. Studying me as I clear my plate, bite by bite. As usual, he discerns the direction of my thoughts without my ever sharing it.
“Have you replied to him yet?”
I stiffen on my stool, fork frozen halfway to my mouth. “No.”
“You don’t know what to say.”
My teeth grind together.
“I suppose I cannot blame you there, given his rather incendiary reaction to things that do not go his way.” Soren pauses. “Maybe a love sonnet to soften the blow?”
My grip tightens on my fork; I am surprised it does not bend in half.
“No, Pendefyre doesn’t seem the type for poetry…” Soren pops a berry into his mouth, chewing slowly. “You could sketch him a picture. That might better suit his reading level anyway. How’s your hand at drawing?”
I frown at his mocking grin. “This is not a joke. Nor is it your business.”
“Oh, but it is,” he counters, flattening one hand against the tabletop. His index finger taps absently as he speaks. “The last time he thought I’d taken you against your will, he showed up at the gates of the Acrine Hold with a battalion of soldiers, fully prepared to start a war to get you back.”
Some of my anger ebbs. Trepidation washes in to replace it. Surely Penn will not actually show up in Hylios looking for me…Surely he does not really believe I remain here as a captive…
“I like to think you’re wise enough to realize you have to stay.”
My eyes fly back to Soren’s at his unexpected announcement. He’s abandoned his meal, not even keeping up the pretense of eating as he fixes every ounce of his attention on me. The force of that stare is astonishing. It is all I can do to remain in my seat.
I clear my throat. “I may be tired now, but by the morning I’m certain I’ll be rested enough to survive a portal journey. If you’ll only—”
“I don’t mean stay because you’re tired or hungry,” he says, cutting me off. “And I don’t mean stay for another few hours or another night. I mean…stay.Stay here.”
My inhale is audible, my reply instant. “I can’t.”
“Why? You were to come here at midsummer anyway for Arwen’s wedding. That is less than a month from now.”
“Exactly. I’ll be back at midsummer, as scheduled.”
“You’re already here.”
“I wasn’t meant to be.”
“What’s meant to happen and what actually happens rarely align in this life. And we are usually better off for it, in the end.” His fingers flex against the tabletop. “Do you think people have any true concept of what is best for them? Of what will make them happy?”
I huff softly. “Because you are some great expert on happiness?”
“I never claimed to be. I’m merely pointing out that, more often than not, those who get precisely what they want in this world are disappointed to find it does not live up to expectation, let alone provide fulfillment. It is the things that surprise us, the things we never see coming, that make this slow march toward death even remotely enjoyable.”
“Careful, Soren. If you carry on with these sentimental worldviews, people will start to see you as an optimist. However will your fearsome reputation survive?”
He does not even crack a smile at my flippant remark, clearly not in the mood for levity. He takes another swallow of wine, eyeing me over the rim of his glass as his throat works. “Tell me honestly. What is so pressing back in Caeldera?”
“The restoration efforts—”
“Will take years. And are not your burden.”
“The citizens—”