“The Northlands were different then. Pendefyre’s predecessor, King Vorath, was not interested in an alliance. He closed the borders of Dyved, would not discuss trade or combine forces in battle.” A shadow of irony creeps into his tone. “It would be another half century before change arrived in the form of a young boy at the city gates, demanding to see the king.”
Pendefyre.
“A warrior from the start,” I say without thinking.
“And yet,” he counters, “so rarely fighting for the things that truly matter.”
A thick silence descends as we both contemplate the King of Dyved. We are now traipsing on unsteady ground. I suddenly find it difficult to breathe around the tension in the air.
Clearing my throat, I look around the dim chamber and ask, “What time is it, anyway?”
“Moving on midnight.”
“Were you at the barracks all this time?”
He nods. “Yes. A long day, and not a particularly pleasant one, as I spent the majority of it buried under a mountain of correspondence. There is much to sort out, with Arwen leaving.”
“Leaving?”
“After the wedding she’ll be moving to Hollywell with Alaric. Ruling with him from Daggerpoint. Raising her family there, assuming they decide to have one.”
“Oh. I did not realize.”
“She’ll still command my armies and serve as flight leader for the Paexyrian riders. But she’ll be doing it from a portal away, instead of a few stairs. It will be an adjustment for both of us.” His voice pitches lower, as though his next words are not meant for me. “After two centuries, you grow accustomed to doing things a certain way.”
Skies, he sounds almost…vulnerable.I have never heard that from him before. But then, I’ve never had a sibling. I cannot begin to understand how it would feel to lose one. Certainly not one I’d lived with, fought with, laughed with, for hundreds of years.
The faint shaft of moonlight on Soren’s face is enough to highlight the frown at his lips, the furrow of his brow.
“You will miss her.”
His eyes find mine in the darkness. “Yes,” he says simply.
“Can you not ask her to stay?”
“If I asked, she would. But I cannot. I will not. Not when I know she wants to go. Asking her to choose between me and Alaric would be like asking her to cleave the heart from her chest for the sake of duty.” His fingers rake through the hair that hasfallen into his face. “When you see them together…how they look at each other, how even across a room they seem to move in the same orbit, like two tethered stars…you will see what I mean. I would never deny her that chance at happiness. She has waited nearly as long as I have for it.”
I digest his forlorn confession in silence, my thoughts spiraling in directions they have never dared before. If Soren was a friend, I would attempt to comfort him in a moment like this. If he were Jac or Farley, I might crack a joke to lighten the mood. If he were Carys or Lestyn, I would wrap my arms around him in a warm embrace until the shadows retreated from his eyes. But Soren is…
I do not know what he is. I do not know how to comfort him, or how he would react if I tried. My fingers unconsciously clutch the duvet. With effort, I force them to relax their death grip. The air between us has grown markedly heavy.
“You said it was a long day. Did something happen? Do you…” I am out of my depth, but bluster on anyway. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He stares at me, saying nothing. Just studying me intently, his gaze roving over my features. The silence stretches on and on, until I begin to long for powers of invisibility rather than endure one more moment of scrutiny.
“What is it?” I scrub at my cheek with one sleeve. “Do I have dried drool on my face or something?”
His chuckle is subdued. “No. It’s just been a long time since someone was in a position to ask me about my day.”
My stomach flips. Surely that cannot be true. He is a king. Beloved by all. Revered by his people.
And yet…
He lives in this big house all alone, looking down over his city like some distant god. Never quite connected, never fully apart of the fabric, even when he takes the time to rub shoulders with those at sea level.
Only last night, he spoke of my deep loneliness. As I look at him now, for the first time I consider the fact that Soren might be deeply lonely, too.
“And how wasyourday?” he asks, skillfully shifting the conversation around the awkward tension.