Sure enough, the little pixie turned to stare at him, anger making the amber flecks in her soft brown eyes flash hard yellow gold. “No, he shouldn’t have to. He’s one of your men, Conlan. He follows you, has pledged allegiance to you. In return for that devotion, he has the right to expect certain things, like his well-being crossing your mind once in a while,” Eleanor snapped.
Conlan nodded his head, sighing. But when he started to get up, Eleanor put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down.
“You can’t fix this right now, Conlan. Tomorrow morning, I want you to take Arran for a walk, just the two of you. Spend a little time with him, and apologise. Really apologise—use the word ‘sorry’. I want you to be the big brother to him that Will was to you when you were younger. He needs that support.”
Conlan nodded slowly. Looking back at Will, he noticed he was awake and gave him a grateful smile. Will smiled back, amused by Eleanor’s choice of words, knowing they had been picked with care for a change.
“We can’t leave him alone out there,” Freddie said.
Eleanor shook her head. “I wasn’t going to. I’m going to go and sit with him, tell him we’re sorry, see if I can make him feel a little better. Maybe I can get him to come sleep in here with us.”
“It’s cold out there; let Conlan go,” Freddie said, grinning at the withering look Conlan flashed him.
“This isn’t funny, Freddie,” Eleanor snapped irritably. “Arran’s really upset. He needs me.”
“I’ll come with you, if you like,” Conlan offered.
Eleanor smiled at him, bending down to lightly kiss his lips. “No, this has to be me, but tomorrow I expect you to do as I’ve asked.”
Conlan nodded, looking back out at Arran’s silhouette.
Will knew Eleanor was right. They had abandoned Arran, ignored him, given no thought to his comfort despite the huge risk he had taken in joining them. Will and Conlan watched as Eleanor strode into the freezing dark towards the fire. Once she was out of earshot, Conlan swore softly in Dwarfish. Will recognised the words, understood the self-hatred behind them.
“Well done, Your Majesty,” Freddie sniped irritably, laying back on his bed. Conlan stayed knelt at the cart door, watching through the gap. He took Freddie’s comment, did not respond; Will felt a strong urge to defend his friend.
“That’s not fair, Freddie,” Will whispered, not wanting to wake Amelia. “You didn’t think about Arran either. None of us did.”
“Yeah? But I’m not the one who thinks he’s fit to rule a country!” Freddie retorted, his voice loud enough to make Amelia mutter in her sleep, moving against Will’s chest.
“Not so loud,” Will whispered, turning his head to glare at Freddie, who looked sheepish.
“Sorry, I’m just angry. Conlan screws up and people are suffering again,” he muttered.
From across the cart, Will saw Conlan’s body stiffen at Freddie’s words. When he spoke, Will could hear the hurt in his voice.
“I’m sat right here, you know. If you’re going to have this conversation, could you at least have the decency to discuss my shortcomings in your heads?” He did not turn to look at them, his gaze riveted on the fire in the distance.
Will gave Freddie another angry glance and to his surprise the man sighed, dropping his gaze.
“I’m sorry, Conlan, I spoke without thinking,” Freddie said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “I’m never very good company when I’m woken up in the middle of the night. This was all our faults, not just yours.”
His apology was out of character, and Conlan turned from the doorway to stare in confused surprise at Freddie’s face, searching it for the joke. Freddie noticed his scrutiny and gave him a small smile. “I mean it, Conlan, I’m sorry. You’ve suddenly found yourself in charge of six Protectors who are looking to you to lead them, to behave like a king, and we’ve made you more used to sharing leadership. It must be difficult. I actually think you’re doing a great job.”
Conlan continued to stare at Freddie, his thoughts hidden behind his usual emotionless mask. “Thank you,” he said slowly. The wariness in his eyes made Will think he was waiting to see if this was another set-up for one of Freddie’s punch lines. But Freddie’s smile merely got a little bigger, and he lay back and curled his large frame into a ball, closing his eyes to sleep.
Conlan watched him for a moment, then turned his eyes to Will’s, his look screaming his astonishment. Will smiled and gave him a slight shrug. Perhaps Freddie was finally growing up a little—although Will suspected he was just worried about the hurt he had heard in Conlan’s voice. Freddie had promised Eleanor, just as Will had, that he would never hurt Conlan again, and while, under the circumstances, Eleanor may have forgiven Freddie if Conlan had mentioned it, maybe Freddie was not willing to take the risk.
Conlan did not move from the door. A chill wind blew in, and Will shivered, pulling Amelia’s warm body closer to him.
A little while later, Eleanor returned, running a hand through Conlan’s hair as she whispered to him. “Arran won’t join us—he’s really upset. He feels betrayed, and I don’t blame him. Pass me a couple of blankets.”
Conlan leant back to the bed, handing Eleanor the first two blankets he found. As she turned back towards the fire, Conlan grabbed her arm.
“You’re coming back, right?” he asked.
Eleanor shook her head. “I’m not leaving him on his own. I told him we were different from the Lords of Mydren. I told him he would be safe with us, loved and protected. I let him down. I have to make that up to him. I’m going to keep him company tonight, and tomorrow, when you talk to him, you’re going to convince him to join us in the cart.”
“Freddie’s right, it’s cold out there. Let me go,” Conlan said.
Eleanor giggled. “I love you, and you’re the most amazing human being I’ve ever met—but Arran needs me right now. You’re not too big on cuddles.”
“Cuddles?” Conlan asked, his voice full of hurt and distress. Will felt sorry for him. Eleanor was clearly the woman he loved, and other people kept getting in the way. If Amelia had told him she planned to spend the night with another man and that cuddling would be involved, he would have had some issue with it too; but from a practical point of view he also understood that Eleanor was right. They had thoughtlessly hurt Arran, and this was the solution.
Eleanor leant over Conlan’s kneeling body, taking his face in her hands. “I’m doing this. Arran’s in pain and I can’t stand that. He’s suffered enough,” she whispered.
“What about me? You do this and I’ll be suffering,” Conlan whispered back. Will watched as tears began slipping down Eleanor’s face.
“Don’t make me choose. Please, Conlan, don’t… you would always win, and Arran deserves better than that,” she breathed. Will saw her anguish, her pain. She was hurting for Arran, and now she was hurting for Conlan, who reached a finger to wipe away the tears. It was so very familiar, so tender. Will felt the squeeze in his gut. He was seeing a side to his friend that he had only seen through Eleanor’s memories up until this point—and even then he had found it hard to believe. It was not that he thought Conlan was incapable of love; he just never thought he would see him expressing it so openly. It made him smile, a warm glow spreading through him.
“Why is he so important?” Conlan asked. Eleanor let go of his face, dropping her eyes, looking guilty. “You said if he came to join us, you’d explain,” he added. The silence stretched as Eleanor stared at her feet. Will could see the confusion and worry moving onto Conlan’s face.
“Eleanor,” Will whispered. “Tell him.”
Eleanor brought her gaze to Will’s, and he saw her indecision. Conlan did not handle conversations about his mother very well, but he needed to know, to understand why Eleanor was making the efforts she was making.
“Tell me what?” Conlan asked, his eyes flicking from Will to Eleanor.
Her eyes still firmly held to the ground, Eleanor sighed. “I wasn’t s
ure how to tell you this, but I guess I should just say it. Arran… is your brother. Half-brother, anyway. He is Merl and your mother’s child.”
Silence.
Will watched Conlan’s face, trying to gauge his feelings, his possible response. Eleanor was staring at him too, fear in her eyes. Neither of them pushed, giving him time to adjust to this new knowledge.
Conlan’s expression was blank as he stared at Eleanor, and when he eventually spoke his voice was as empty as his face.
“How do you know?”
Eleanor shrugged. “His expression of surprise is just like yours and Jarrick’s: the way you all raise your eyebrow.”
“You reached this conclusion based on the way we raise our eyebrows?” Conlan asked, his incredulous tone loud enough to cause Amelia to stir fitfully.
Hoping to keep Amelia asleep, Will tried to reassure Conlan. “She’s right. His expressions, his body language, even his comments. He’s a copy of you.”
More silence.
“I never noticed… she must have been at least five months’ pregnant, because she was dead less than five months after she was taken, ” Conlan whispered, and Will could hear the pain in his voice.
More silence—a very lengthy silence this time. At last it was broken by Conlan swearing at himself in Dwarfish, horror and torment spreading across his face. “What has Arran suffered because of me? I barely withstood Daratus, and I was eight… Arran was just a baby.”
“Arran doesn’t have a shield because Daratus tortured him as a child,” Eleanor said, relentlessly pouring more salt on Conlan’s open wound. Will cringed at where that thought was going to take his friend. Glowing green eyes stared their agony at Eleanor, but she did not stop. “Arran has been through hell, but like you, he has managed to hold on to some shreds of his humanity. I don’t have proof that he’s your brother. If that’s what you want, you need to take it up with Daratus. What happened to him is not your fault, but he is your responsibility now. Do you understand why I’m going to go to him?”
The shock finally hit, and Conlan started shaking. Eleanor reached for him, comforted him, pulled his head against her chest, stroking it. He wrapped his arms around her, clinging to her, allowing her to support him. Will envied him; Amelia was just not strong enough to offer what Eleanor could.
Dragging his tattered control together, Conlan pulled back, staring at Eleanor’s tear-stained face. “I understand, Eleanor. I don’t like it, but I understand,” he whispered.
Eleanor smiled at him and kissed him firmly on the lips, then picked up the blankets. “I love you,” she whispered, heading off into the dark.
Conlan sat watching the fire’s distant glow for a while before closing the door and crawling back into his bed, where he lay staring up at the canvas.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Conlan whispered, his voice rough, holding back tears Will knew he would not allow himself to cry.
“It was not my secret to tell. Eleanor was going to tell you soon anyway; she just wanted you to get to know Arran a little better before she did, hence asking you to talk to him tomorrow,” Will replied, keeping his voice calm and soft. There had been arguments in the past about the sharing of information—he did not want this to turn into another one.
“Is he really my brother?” Conlan asked. The empty tone was back, but Will knew he needed it. He would not be able to discuss the situation if he let his emotions in as well.
“I don’t know for certain, but I offered him some medical help the other day, spent some time with him, and I’d have to say yes, I think he is. Do you remember what you said to me, by that lake near the East Tower? We were swimming and I was staring at the scars on your body…” Will said.
There was a pause. “I asked you if you’d had a good look…” Conlan replied softly.
Will smiled at the memory. “Yes, you did. Well, Arran said almost exactly the same thing to me … with almost the exact same expression on his face. It was like being taken back in time. Weird…”
Silence. Will knew Conlan would not be able to sleep. He had offered him the opportunity to talk, but he did not seem to want to take it. Eyes closed, Will was drifting when Conlan spoke again.
“You were always there for me. I never said it, but I really appreciate it. I was so hurt, so confused. Eleanor said I should be the big brother to Arran that you were to me, but Will… you were so much more than that. Thank you.”
Eyes still closed, Will could not keep the smile off his face despite his shock. Ten years of knowing Conlan, helping Conlan, risking his life for him, and then Eleanor shows up and he suddenly starts saying ‘thank you’.
“You’re welcome, Conlan. It’s been an adventure I wouldn’t have missed for the world.”
Mickle
It was Amelia, moving in her sleep, rubbing against him, that woke Will. Through the small gap between the window shutters he could see the pale light of dawn. The temptation of having Amelia as close as she was, the feeling of her body pressing down into his, was going to be a problem if he did not get up.
Moving slowly and carefully, he extracted himself out from underneath; Amelia stirred and wriggled in the empty bed, but did not wake. He tenderly brushed her curly black hair out of her face. So beautiful. Leaning down, he gently kissed her forehead and pulled the covers up to her chin, then eased down from the elevated sleeping platform, collected his clothing and shuffled towards the door. Pulling on his boots in the small square of available floor space, trying not to overbalance, he concentrated on building up control of his energy. Has it always been this erratic first thing in the morning? He could not remember. To Will it felt like he was picking up an incredibly heavy package, one that he had rested against something during the night, but that he was never truly able to put down. Trying not to make noise, or let in too much light, he exited the caravan, walking stiffly down the steps.
A late-season cold snap had given the world outside an icy crust. His breath escaped in billowing clouds, but the fresh, chilly air was a welcome change from the stuffy, stale heat of the caravan. Stretching, once he had more room, Will pulled the rest of his clothes on, ignoring the uncomfortable twinges as his body complained about the movement. I am getting old, he thought with as much stoic good humour as he could muster.
The soft creak of the caravan door opening made him turn; Conlan came down the steps to stand next to him. His glowing green eyes looked tired and despondent, dark bags underneath them. Will gave him a sympathetic smile, knowing he had most likely been awake all night, thinking about Arran. While the childhood Arran had suffered through had not been his fault, he would no doubt quietly beat himself up over it for a long time to come.
Conlan had slipped on his usual blank mask, the vulnerability of last night once again hidden. The expression was marred slightly by the concern that ghosted through his eyes as he took in the icy blanket covering the world around them. Without a word, he marched purposefully towards the remnants of last night’s fire. Hoping he would not discover Eleanor and Arran frozen to death, Will hurried after him. They found the two slumbering figures on the far side of the fire’s dead embers. Eleanor was sleeping against the large, frost-covered tree trunk they had been using to sit on; both the blankets she had brought were wrapped over Arran, and his head was resting across her thigh as she curled around him. Neither of them seemed particularly uncomfortable or cold.
“She’s fine,” Will whispered. “Let them sleep.”
Conlan nodded, but seemed unable to pull his eyes away. “If I’d given more thought to Arran, she’d be asleep with me, not him.” Bitter self-loathing spiked his whispered words.
“We made a mistake; be thankful this was the only consequence. Come on, let’s make ourselves useful—we need more firewood,” Will said, walking out among the frigid trees around them. After a few moments he heard Conlan following behind him.
The forest was eerily still, no birds calling to each other, no animal noises in the undergrowth, nothing but thei
r breathing and the small noises they made as they walked. When Conlan spoke, it felt so loud to Will that he winced.
“I don’t like sharing her.”
His angry voice was hard and colder than the air it travelled through.
“No,” Will agreed. “I couldn’t share Amelia. But you’re not really sharing Eleanor. She’s in love with you, and only you—she’s proved that time after time. Besides, it’s kind of fair: she’s going to have to share you.”
Intent on his task, picking up branches to add to his collection, he failed to notice that Conlan was taking a long time to respond. He walked a little further, ignoring much of the wood lying on the ground, trying to find the drier fuel that leant against tree trunks where the winter storms had deposited it. Eventually the silence got his attention and he turned back to look at Conlan, finding an utterly bewildered expression on his face.
“She’s never going to have to share me, Will.”
Will chuckled at Conlan’s naivety. “She’s already sharing you—and it’s only going to get worse. We’re going to make you a king; you will belong to your people. You’re going to have a role that requires everything from you every hour of every day. Eleanor will be lucky to get five minutes of your time. And eventually you’re going to need a wife, and then she’s going to lose her nights with you too. She’s smart enough to see this. That’s what last night’s childish little display was about. From her point of view the only way she can be with you is to be involved in what you’re doing. But you keep pushing her out.”
Will stopped as he saw the look on Conlan’s face, the misery and pain making his glowing eyes look duller.
“Is it too late to change my mind?”
“What? About wanting to be a king?” Will asked. Conlan nodded slowly. Conlan was serious, Will realised, and he felt a wave of pity for his friend. It was the first time he had ever heard Conlan express a desire to stray from his chosen path. Eleanor would be appalled if she heard him.
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