Chapter Ten
Solan found it nearly impossible to concentrate on his book when Kyr and Torin were having a friendly—but quickly turning unfriendly—argument on the other side of the room. He tuned in long enough to hear that they were still talking about Lokan’s plans to leave within the next two or three weeks and tuned back out, unwilling to get drawn in. In the two weeks that had passed since learning about the humans taking back half the country, arguments had come up frequently between all of them except Roisin. Solan had quickly learned not to get involved, even when Kyr tried to draw him into some disagreement between him and Torin or Ceridwen.
He tried to get back into the story he was reading but the words blurred on the page after a few sentences, especially when Kyr swore loudly. Solan glanced up and saw Kyr up on his feet, glaring down at Torin, who remained sprawled where he was on the couch, one arm resting along the back. The long-suffering expression on his face only seemed to piss Kyr off more, though Solan was pretty sure that was the whole point.
“Hey, Kyr, let’s go for a walk.” He put his book down and pushed himself up, taking Kyr’s arm and tugging him insistently away from Torin. “I need some fresh air.”
Kyr scowled but walked with him. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as fucking annoying as Torin fucking Espenson.”
Solan made a noncommittal noise, pulling on his heavy winter coat and wrapping his scarf around his neck. The air was bitterly cold when he stepped out from the front door and only the fact that there was no wind and the sun was high kept him from turning right back around and going into the warmth again. Beside him Kyr swore again, tucking his chin into the collar of his coat, and stamped his feet inside his heavy boots.
They walked around the house once, in the path cleared, before the cold drove them back inside and into the sitting room, where a fire burned in the fireplace. Kyr seemed a little more relaxed as they stood in front of the fire to warm their hands, most of the irritation smoothed out of his face. Solan looped an arm around his shoulders and gave him a one-armed hug, leaning over to kiss his cheek.
“I can’t wait to get out of here,” Kyr said, leaning against him. “I just don’t want it to be with Lokan, but Torin says he’s going to be sticking around to see how things work out. Are you going to come with me to Arian Mawr at least?”
“I’m seeing this thing through too. I have to. But my parents would take you in if you went, even if it was just you.”
Kyr snorted. “I’m not leaving both you and Torin. Torin at least can usually take care of himself.”
“What, and I can’t?”
“I just don’t want to lose you, Solo, okay? So I guess if you won’t do the fucking smart thing, I’ll just have to stay and watch your back for you.” He sighed. “As boring as old Toke’n’Fart was, I kind of miss it right now.”
“I bet it doesn’t miss you,” Solan said, and got a snort of laughter in return. “I’ll be okay, Kyr. We all will be.”
“Hope so.” Kyr glanced at the open doorway then tugged Solan over to the couch, pulling him down and into a kiss. Solan relaxed into him, for a little while forgetting everything that was troubling him.
He woke late that night after going to bed and stared up into the darkness above him for long moments, trying to decide what had brought him so suddenly out of sleep. After a moment he got up and wandered to the bathroom to empty his bladder, coming back to glance into the bedroom and check on Kyr and Torin. Both of them still slept, Kyr with the blankets pulled up so high that only his hair was visible and Torin on his back with his head turned to one side, exposing the line of his neck and jaw. Solan watched them sleep for a moment longer then turned and went carefully down the stairs, avoiding the creaky spot on the last step. The flickering light of fire spilled out from the sitting room and he made his way towards it, his bare feet making almost no noise on the carpet.
“Sit,” the old woman told him when he stepped through the doorway, indicating the armchair across from her. Solan hesitated a moment then did as he was told, pulling his legs up underneath him and crossing his arms in unconscious defense. The old woman barely looked at him, busy warming her hands—wrinkled but still strong, with their long fingers and heavily creased palms—at the fire in the hearth.
“You said I’d destroy him,” Solan said after a few long moments of silence. His voice sounded thick and sleepy in his own ears. “That he should kill me or he would fail.”
“And he has, hasn’t he?” She sniffed. “Crippled and worthless, hiding here in his mother’s house.”
“He’s not worthless.” Anger erased some of the sleepiness. “He’ll never be worthless.”
“If you say so. The fact still remains that he has lost his army along with that great mess on his head. His followers are, what, a halfbreed, a human, and Ceridwen? She’s the only one of you lot with any worth.”
“Maybe that’s all he needs.” Solan reached back absently to scratch at his shoulder, where the tattoo itched almost on the edge of burning. “Who are you?”
“Just an old woman warming herself on a cold night.”
“Lokan said you had the Sight. You see the future. If what you said has already come true, that I’ve destroyed Lokan, what comes next?”
The look she gave him was slyly amused. “Perhaps that was the question Lokan should have asked, instead of getting upset at my suggestion that he kill you.” She snorted. “You are hardly a child.”
“I know it’s basically in the job description for seers to be cryptic and mysterious, but a straight answer would be really nice. It’s late and I’m tired. If you’re not going to actually tell me anything, I’d like to go back to bed.”
“Arrogance. That’s what’s wrong with the youth of today.” She made a flicking motion at the fire and it flared up, reaching out tongues of flame towards their chairs and the carpet. Solan flinched back from its heat, squinting in the sudden flash of orange light, and when he opened his eyes again the old woman was gone.
“Oh yeah right,” Solan muttered. “Like I’m the arrogant one here.” He waited a moment longer to see if she would return or if anyone else would join him, then got to his feet and went back to bed.
He managed to get Lokan alone in his bedroom the next morning and told him about the old woman’s visit, watching him carefully for any sign of weakness. Lokan listened without comment, though his mouth tightened when Solan said the old woman had called him a cripple, and shook his head a little when Solan was done.
“I don’t like the idea of her just walking in here whenever she feels like it.” He shook his head again. “She is more dangerous than she looks.”
Solan thought of the old woman’s hands and shivered a little. “Yeah, I gathered that. I just wish she’d given me more than a couple of insults.”
“It doesn’t matter. We won’t be here that much longer, and I have not been destroyed yet, no matter what the old bitch might think.”
“Just don’t do anything stupid.” Solan rolled his eyes at the arched eyebrow Lokan gave him. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re not invincible, or did you manage to forget already how close you came to dying?”
“I could hardly forget, little Fae. I was the one doing it, after all.” Lokan studied him for a moment. “You’re... happy with Kyr?”
“Yeah,” Solan said, and added before he could stop himself, “Good thing, right, since you’ve replaced me with Torin already.”
Lokan snorted. “Nobody’s been replaced. There’s proof that we need to leave and the sooner the better, before we all turn on each other.”
“Not like there’s much better to do,” Solan muttered. From downstairs he heard Kyr call his name and tell him to come to breakfast. “Just... you know, be careful. Maybe think once or twice before you go charging ahead doing whatever you want.”
“You worry too much, little Fae.” Lokan heaved himself up from the bed and reached out to stroke Solan’s hair for a moment. “I have been thinking ahead.” His hand drifted down to rest on Solan’s shoulder, the tips of his fingers over the tattoo on the back of Solan’s shoulderblade. Even through his heavy sweatshirt Solan felt a faint tingle in his skin, as though something stirred in the tattoo in response to Lokan’s touch. “I should ask you now if you trust me.”
“Why? What are you planning?”
“Would you trust me even if I didn’t tell you?”
Solan tried to read him again and found he still couldn’t. “Yes. I guess I would. I just wish you’d trust me enough to tell me what you’re planning.”
“Later.” Lokan squeezed his shoulder and left the room.
Another week passed slowly by without much change in the days full of snow, cold, and temperamental flare-ups that led to a number of arguments between Kyr and whoever his current target was. Solan started dragging him out of the room whenever he started trying to pick a fight with Torin or Ceridwen, and escaped to the library himself on the few occasions when Kyr snapped at him. By the end of the week he was willing to do anything Lokan wanted just to get away from the house and the short tempers within it.
He went looking for Lokan at the end of the week, meaning to ask him how close they were to leaving, but stopped just beyond the doorway into the sitting room when he heard the murmur of voices. He moved as close as he dared, angling himself just enough to see inside and glancing guiltily over his shoulder to make sure he was still alone when he realized it was Lokan and Torin, standing by the fire and speaking too low for Solan to make out exactly what they were saying. The angle hid most of Torin’s face but there was something in the stiff set of his shoulders that said he was unhappy; though he kept his voice down he spoke rapidly, occasionally gesturing sharply with one hand. In contrast Lokan looked completely neutral, his weight shifted absently onto one leg, his arms crossed over his chest.
Solan glanced over his shoulder again, wondering if he should go in to break up what looked to be the beginnings of another fight, and looked back in time to see Lokan reach out and brush his knuckles against Torin’s cheek. The set of Torin’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though he didn’t otherwise move, and Solan backed away, feeling guilty. He went upstairs to his bedroom instead and sprawled out on the bed, trying to picture Kyr’s reaction if he’d been the one to see that. The thought made him snort laughter and he realized the hurt feeling of rejection had faded, leaving him feeling much more relaxed.
When he and Kyr went to bed later that night, cuddling up together under the heavy blankets to fight off the chill, he wasn’t very surprised that Torin didn’t come up shortly after. He lay awake for a little while, listening to the house settle in the dark silence, and when he finally drifted off he slept deeply, without dreams. In the morning, while Kyr still slept, he slid out of bed and messed up the still neatly made blankets on Torin’s bed, then went downstairs to find out what was for breakfast.
He tried to get back into the story he was reading but the words blurred on the page after a few sentences, especially when Kyr swore loudly. Solan glanced up and saw Kyr up on his feet, glaring down at Torin, who remained sprawled where he was on the couch, one arm resting along the back. The long-suffering expression on his face only seemed to piss Kyr off more, though Solan was pretty sure that was the whole point.
“Hey, Kyr, let’s go for a walk.” He put his book down and pushed himself up, taking Kyr’s arm and tugging him insistently away from Torin. “I need some fresh air.”
Kyr scowled but walked with him. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as fucking annoying as Torin fucking Espenson.”
Solan made a noncommittal noise, pulling on his heavy winter coat and wrapping his scarf around his neck. The air was bitterly cold when he stepped out from the front door and only the fact that there was no wind and the sun was high kept him from turning right back around and going into the warmth again. Beside him Kyr swore again, tucking his chin into the collar of his coat, and stamped his feet inside his heavy boots.
They walked around the house once, in the path cleared, before the cold drove them back inside and into the sitting room, where a fire burned in the fireplace. Kyr seemed a little more relaxed as they stood in front of the fire to warm their hands, most of the irritation smoothed out of his face. Solan looped an arm around his shoulders and gave him a one-armed hug, leaning over to kiss his cheek.
“I can’t wait to get out of here,” Kyr said, leaning against him. “I just don’t want it to be with Lokan, but Torin says he’s going to be sticking around to see how things work out. Are you going to come with me to Arian Mawr at least?”
“I’m seeing this thing through too. I have to. But my parents would take you in if you went, even if it was just you.”
Kyr snorted. “I’m not leaving both you and Torin. Torin at least can usually take care of himself.”
“What, and I can’t?”
“I just don’t want to lose you, Solo, okay? So I guess if you won’t do the fucking smart thing, I’ll just have to stay and watch your back for you.” He sighed. “As boring as old Toke’n’Fart was, I kind of miss it right now.”
“I bet it doesn’t miss you,” Solan said, and got a snort of laughter in return. “I’ll be okay, Kyr. We all will be.”
“Hope so.” Kyr glanced at the open doorway then tugged Solan over to the couch, pulling him down and into a kiss. Solan relaxed into him, for a little while forgetting everything that was troubling him.
He woke late that night after going to bed and stared up into the darkness above him for long moments, trying to decide what had brought him so suddenly out of sleep. After a moment he got up and wandered to the bathroom to empty his bladder, coming back to glance into the bedroom and check on Kyr and Torin. Both of them still slept, Kyr with the blankets pulled up so high that only his hair was visible and Torin on his back with his head turned to one side, exposing the line of his neck and jaw. Solan watched them sleep for a moment longer then turned and went carefully down the stairs, avoiding the creaky spot on the last step. The flickering light of fire spilled out from the sitting room and he made his way towards it, his bare feet making almost no noise on the carpet.
“Sit,” the old woman told him when he stepped through the doorway, indicating the armchair across from her. Solan hesitated a moment then did as he was told, pulling his legs up underneath him and crossing his arms in unconscious defense. The old woman barely looked at him, busy warming her hands—wrinkled but still strong, with their long fingers and heavily creased palms—at the fire in the hearth.
“You said I’d destroy him,” Solan said after a few long moments of silence. His voice sounded thick and sleepy in his own ears. “That he should kill me or he would fail.”
“And he has, hasn’t he?” She sniffed. “Crippled and worthless, hiding here in his mother’s house.”
“He’s not worthless.” Anger erased some of the sleepiness. “He’ll never be worthless.”
“If you say so. The fact still remains that he has lost his army along with that great mess on his head. His followers are, what, a halfbreed, a human, and Ceridwen? She’s the only one of you lot with any worth.”
“Maybe that’s all he needs.” Solan reached back absently to scratch at his shoulder, where the tattoo itched almost on the edge of burning. “Who are you?”
“Just an old woman warming herself on a cold night.”
“Lokan said you had the Sight. You see the future. If what you said has already come true, that I’ve destroyed Lokan, what comes next?”
The look she gave him was slyly amused. “Perhaps that was the question Lokan should have asked, instead of getting upset at my suggestion that he kill you.” She snorted. “You are hardly a child.”
“I know it’s basically in the job description for seers to be cryptic and mysterious, but a straight answer would be really nice. It’s late and I’m tired. If you’re not going to actually tell me anything, I’d like to go back to bed.”
“Arrogance. That’s what’s wrong with the youth of today.” She made a flicking motion at the fire and it flared up, reaching out tongues of flame towards their chairs and the carpet. Solan flinched back from its heat, squinting in the sudden flash of orange light, and when he opened his eyes again the old woman was gone.
“Oh yeah right,” Solan muttered. “Like I’m the arrogant one here.” He waited a moment longer to see if she would return or if anyone else would join him, then got to his feet and went back to bed.
He managed to get Lokan alone in his bedroom the next morning and told him about the old woman’s visit, watching him carefully for any sign of weakness. Lokan listened without comment, though his mouth tightened when Solan said the old woman had called him a cripple, and shook his head a little when Solan was done.
“I don’t like the idea of her just walking in here whenever she feels like it.” He shook his head again. “She is more dangerous than she looks.”
Solan thought of the old woman’s hands and shivered a little. “Yeah, I gathered that. I just wish she’d given me more than a couple of insults.”
“It doesn’t matter. We won’t be here that much longer, and I have not been destroyed yet, no matter what the old bitch might think.”
“Just don’t do anything stupid.” Solan rolled his eyes at the arched eyebrow Lokan gave him. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re not invincible, or did you manage to forget already how close you came to dying?”
“I could hardly forget, little Fae. I was the one doing it, after all.” Lokan studied him for a moment. “You’re... happy with Kyr?”
“Yeah,” Solan said, and added before he could stop himself, “Good thing, right, since you’ve replaced me with Torin already.”
Lokan snorted. “Nobody’s been replaced. There’s proof that we need to leave and the sooner the better, before we all turn on each other.”
“Not like there’s much better to do,” Solan muttered. From downstairs he heard Kyr call his name and tell him to come to breakfast. “Just... you know, be careful. Maybe think once or twice before you go charging ahead doing whatever you want.”
“You worry too much, little Fae.” Lokan heaved himself up from the bed and reached out to stroke Solan’s hair for a moment. “I have been thinking ahead.” His hand drifted down to rest on Solan’s shoulder, the tips of his fingers over the tattoo on the back of Solan’s shoulderblade. Even through his heavy sweatshirt Solan felt a faint tingle in his skin, as though something stirred in the tattoo in response to Lokan’s touch. “I should ask you now if you trust me.”
“Why? What are you planning?”
“Would you trust me even if I didn’t tell you?”
Solan tried to read him again and found he still couldn’t. “Yes. I guess I would. I just wish you’d trust me enough to tell me what you’re planning.”
“Later.” Lokan squeezed his shoulder and left the room.
Another week passed slowly by without much change in the days full of snow, cold, and temperamental flare-ups that led to a number of arguments between Kyr and whoever his current target was. Solan started dragging him out of the room whenever he started trying to pick a fight with Torin or Ceridwen, and escaped to the library himself on the few occasions when Kyr snapped at him. By the end of the week he was willing to do anything Lokan wanted just to get away from the house and the short tempers within it.
He went looking for Lokan at the end of the week, meaning to ask him how close they were to leaving, but stopped just beyond the doorway into the sitting room when he heard the murmur of voices. He moved as close as he dared, angling himself just enough to see inside and glancing guiltily over his shoulder to make sure he was still alone when he realized it was Lokan and Torin, standing by the fire and speaking too low for Solan to make out exactly what they were saying. The angle hid most of Torin’s face but there was something in the stiff set of his shoulders that said he was unhappy; though he kept his voice down he spoke rapidly, occasionally gesturing sharply with one hand. In contrast Lokan looked completely neutral, his weight shifted absently onto one leg, his arms crossed over his chest.
Solan glanced over his shoulder again, wondering if he should go in to break up what looked to be the beginnings of another fight, and looked back in time to see Lokan reach out and brush his knuckles against Torin’s cheek. The set of Torin’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though he didn’t otherwise move, and Solan backed away, feeling guilty. He went upstairs to his bedroom instead and sprawled out on the bed, trying to picture Kyr’s reaction if he’d been the one to see that. The thought made him snort laughter and he realized the hurt feeling of rejection had faded, leaving him feeling much more relaxed.
When he and Kyr went to bed later that night, cuddling up together under the heavy blankets to fight off the chill, he wasn’t very surprised that Torin didn’t come up shortly after. He lay awake for a little while, listening to the house settle in the dark silence, and when he finally drifted off he slept deeply, without dreams. In the morning, while Kyr still slept, he slid out of bed and messed up the still neatly made blankets on Torin’s bed, then went downstairs to find out what was for breakfast.
