What Matters Most

by Sasha L. Miller

  The festival was the highlight of the winter; between the dancing, the food, and the alcohol, it was hard not to be cheerful. The snow had been cleared from a section of the square to make an area for dancing, but between the dancing and the snowfall, the area had turned into a slush pit. It wasn't stopping anyone from joining in, and normally Raslin would be right there with everyone else.

  Raslin couldn't manage his usual cheer, however. He kept his distance, nursing a flask of MacRaflin's moonshine—stronger than the ale or wine offered—and watched the rest of the village celebrate. He was also watching Kyros and his compatriots. They weren't friends, not in any manner that Raslin would label their relationship as such. Jallen and Ambry were friendly enough—to Kyros, at least, as Ambry seemed to have something against Raslin—but they treated Kyros with a deference that was a little unnerving.

  They didn't seem to be enjoying themselves, but Raslin couldn't blame them. They should have been gone two days previously, but the snow had completely ruined that plan. Raslin had avoided Kyros as much as possible since their argument in the square, but it was impossible to miss Kyros' tension.

  Sighing, Raslin took a long swig from his flask. The moonshine burned caustically down his throat, but Raslin enjoyed the distraction of the pain. Clearing his throat against the burn, Raslin debated finding a partner and distracting himself with a bit of dancing.

  Maybe after some more drinking, Raslin decided, and took another swallow of the alcohol. The tips of his fingers tingled as the alcohol warmed him from the inside. His cheeks were burning, and Raslin smiled a little, brushing the snow off his hair as he watched the dancers throw themselves around to the fast-paced song the musicians were playing.

  "Hey."

  Raslin jumped. When had Kyros approached? He hadn't been that lost in thought, had he? Glancing over to where Kyros had been sitting near the bonfire, Raslin frowned to see that Kyros, Jallen, and Ambry were no longer there either.

  "Enjoying the festival?" Raslin asked, the words slipping off his tongue with a cynical tone. Kyros shrugged, impatiently pushing his hair out of his face as he looked at Raslin. His face was flushed with cold or wine, and his eyes were brighter than normal, though that could have entirely been Raslin having too much moonshine. Reminded of the flask in his hand, Raslin took a swallow and offered it to Kyros.

  "Not really," Kyros said, accepting the flask and taking a swallow. He coughed once, his eyes widening in surprise. Raslin grinned, taking the flask back when Kyros handed it to him.

  Kyros leaned against the house behind them, for all intents and purposes watching the dancers like Raslin had.

  Raslin settled back as well. Kyros had come to him; Raslin wasn't going to pry out of him what it was that Kyros wanted.

  Raslin drank from the flask, occasionally sneaking glances at Kyros out of the corner of his eye. He tried to pass the flask again, but Kyros didn't take it again, apparently satisfied with the single drink he'd taken from it.

  "Did you really mean what you said?" Kyros asked quietly.

  Raslin could barely hear him over the music. Ailynn was dancing with MacRaflin, Raslin noted, as he tried to process what Kyros was talking about.

  "What did I say?" Raslin asked, frowning as he finished the rest of the moonshine in the flask.

  "About losing the two people you cared most about," Kyros said after a moment's hesitation, as though he still didn't understand it.

  "Yeah," Raslin said, shrugging. "Why else would I have said it?"

  "Good point," Kyros said, and Raslin glanced at him to see a whisper of a smile disappearing from his face. "Can … can we talk?"

  "We are talking," Raslin said. What more was there to talk about? As soon as the snow stopped long enough, Ailynn and Kyros would be gone.

  "Somewhere quieter," Kyros said, glancing around the square. It was noisy with the music and all the villagers talking and laughing, most of them loud from too much wine or ale.

  "The ruins?" Raslin suggested. It had always been the place where they'd run away to hide when they were younger. He also really didn't want to go back to Ailynn's house and be reminded yet again that he'd soon be all alone.

  Kyros nodded, another smile flashing across his face before he pushed away from the wall. Raslin followed, gallantly ignoring that he was swaying a little. He was only tipsy, he reasoned, then glanced back down at the flask in his hand.

  "I need to give this back to MacRaflin," Raslin said, waving the empty flask. "I'll catch up."

  Kyros nodded, pushing his hair out of his face again. Raslin watched as Kyros headed out of the square, towards the path that would take him through the village and out towards the ruins. Then he moved towards MacRaflin, who was leading Ailynn out of the dance area, towards the tables set up near the bonfire with food.

  "Thanks for the loan," Raslin said, passing the flask to MacRaflin and flashing a smile at Ailynn. MacRaflin raised his eyebrows in surprise, shaking the empty flask. Raslin grinned and waved farewell, stepping away to head after Kyros. The snow was starting to taper off, Raslin noted sadly as he left the square, snagging a lantern on his way. It was easy to follow Kyros' tracks, and Raslin tried to walk quickly so he could catch up.

  What did Kyros want to talk about? Raslin's heart sped up as he considered the possibilities. Nothing he could think of made sense, especially in light of Kyros' cryptic question on whether Raslin had meant what he'd said.

  Raslin didn't catch up to Kyros before he left the village.

  Kyros must have been walking pretty quickly, Raslin thought, pausing as he rounded the last turn in the path towards the ruins. They were ablaze with light, more so than could be accounted for by a single lantern. Raslin briefly thought that Kyros was playing with his magic again, but then he saw the horses and men surrounding the ruins.

  The men were uniformed, and Raslin's heart sank. Wasn't the snow was supposed to keep them away? Why were they out here and not at the village? It didn't matter how they were there, Raslin thought, clumsily shuttering the lantern he held so that no light spilled from it. Raslin could see Kyros in the center of the ruins, speaking to one of the uniformed men.

  It was impossible to tell what they were talking about, but Raslin doubted it was anything good. They were far enough away that Raslin couldn't see the expressions on their faces, but the tension in both men's stances was apparent. Raslin hesitated, unsure what to do. His first instinct was to go rushing in… but he'd probably be easily caught, especially with the moonshine he'd drunk. Raslin curled his hands into fists, ignoring the pain when the lantern handle bit painfully into his right hand.

  Kyros glanced back then, towards the village, and Raslin had no idea if he was visible or not from his position. No, he decided, his heart beating faster as the uniformed man suddenly looked in his direction. There was no shouted order or rush to chase him. Raslin had no idea what to do, paralyzed by indecision. Ailynn needed to know, needed to leave, and he needed to give the puzzle box to Jallen and Ambry … but he couldn't just leave Kyros.

  Suddenly, light flared, surrounding the ruins with a wall of blue flame that stretched far above Raslin's head, as though reaching for the clouds above. Raslin stumbled back, startled and scared. Gripping the lantern more tightly, Raslin turned away, trying his best to ignore how his stomach flipped. Kyros was smart and he was resourceful. He'd get away. There was nothing he could do for Kyros, not if there was magic involved.

  The only thing Raslin could do for him was to get his mother to safety, like he'd promised.

  Extinguishing the lantern, Raslin tucked it behind a nearby tree and took off running back towards the village, going as fast as he could in the slippery snow. It took him far too long to get back to the village, and even longer to get back to the square.

  The festival was still in full swing, with no sign of the confrontation at the ruins, not even a glow of light from the blue flames.

  Raslin didn't know what that meant, and he was afraid of the answer. Searching the cr
owd quickly, Raslin stifled his frustration when he couldn't find Ailynn, Jallen, or Ambry anywhere. A quick query of Theri turned up that Ailynn hadn't been feeling well and had headed back home for the evening.

  Thanking Theri and ignoring her question on whether he was all right, Raslin took off again, heading through the town to Ailynn's house. He slowed as he neared it, trying to catch his breath. The carriage was out front, already hooked up to Jallen and Ambry's horses, and Raslin stumbled to a stop, confused.

  "There you are," Ailynn said, stumbling out of the house.

  Ambry took her bag and scrambled up on top of the carriage to secure it. "Ras—"

  "Are you all right?" Raslin asked, feeling unsteady as Ailynn embraced him, holding him tightly.

  "They said we have to go now," Ailynn said, her face creased with worry. "That the men chasing Kyros are here, but they won't tell me if he's okay—"

  "He is," Raslin said, refusing to believe anything else. "It'll be all right, Ailynn. Don't worry about Kyros."

  "Did you see him?" Jallen asked, swinging himself up into the driver's bench of the carriage.

  "Yes," Raslin said, and quickly related what he'd seen, downplaying the import of the confrontation for Ailynn's sake.

  "If you knew they were here, why didn't you warn him?"

  "I couldn't find him," Jallen said, frowning briefly. "Did they see you?"

  "I don't think so." Raslin shook his head, wondering if, by suggesting the ruins, he'd inadvertently led Kyros right into a trap. If they'd gone back to Ailynn's house, Kyros might have at least been warned.

  "They'll have seen his tracks," Ambry said. "Why are we wasting time? We need to go!"

  "Wait," Raslin said, remembering the puzzle box. "Kyros gave me something to give to you."

  "Get it," Ambry ordered, glancing around as though he expected to be surrounded at any moment.

  Raslin nodded and dashed into the house. He left the front door open behind him, climbing the ladder to the loft with reckless abandon, somewhat surprised when he didn't crash back down to the floor in his haste. Retrieving the puzzle box, Raslin stumbled back down the ladder and back outside. Ailynn was already settled into the carriage and Jallen and Ambry were ready to leave.

  "There's a trick to it—" Raslin began, holding the box up towards Ambry.

  "Get in," Ambry cut him off. "You can show us later."

  "But—"

  "In," Ambry said, scowling. "We don't have time to argue, and they'll know you warned Ailynn. We're leaving with too much haste for that stupid cover story to be believed. Get in."

  "Right." Raslin did as he was directed. He had none of his things, but there was no time to worry about that. Raslin shut the door and settled into the seat next to Ailynn. As the carriage jerked into motion, Raslin curled an arm around Ailynn's shoulders, holding her close, and tried not to think about whether they'd be caught, what would happen to Kyros now, if he'd done the right thing, and what Kyros had wanted to tell him at the ruins.

  *~*~*

  Mykon was much larger than Ourenville; it was large enough to classify as a small city, in Raslin's opinion. He and Ailynn had been settled in Mykon for six months. It was a port town, and it had been easy for Raslin to find work at the docks, slinging merchandise from ships to warehouses along the seafront. But it still didn't feel like home Ailynn missed Ourenville, but it hadn't taken her long to become friendly with the neighbors, especially the women who lived in the house adjacent to theirs. They had a nice little cottage, Raslin thought, studying the front as he made his way up the walkway. It was in good repair, bigger but more closed off, with actual rooms instead of the large, open area the cottage in Ourenville had boasted.

  It was also impersonal and there was none of the history of the homes he'd lived in back in Ourenville. He didn't want to return to Ourenville, though; he didn't want to be reminded of Kyros and everything that home was supposed to mean, but wouldn't in Ourenville.

  He also wasn't about to leave Ailynn alone, not after the news they'd gotten soon after they'd arrived.

  Kyros had been captured that night in Ourenville and dragged back to Alesdor. Raslin didn't know the specifics of what had happened after that, but at some point after Kyros had been dragged back to Alesdor, there had been a trial—a farce of a trial, Raslin didn't doubt—and Kyros had been sentenced to be hanged from the neck until dead. Mykon was large enough to keep somewhat up to date on news from the capital; Kyros' wanted poster had been taken down, and the constable hadn't had any more details than that.

  It still hurt, two months later, thinking that Kyros had been dead for months. Raslin couldn't keep himself from wondering whether, if he'd done something differently that night, it would have ended differently. He constantly wondered what Kyros had wanted to tell him. He'd come up with dozens of ideas, but none of them made sense.

  Raslin debated for a moment whether to go into the cottage. Ailynn wouldn't be home for a few hours, since it was market day and she usually spent the entire day bartering.

  Raslin would usually still be working for most of the day, but the ship he'd been helping unload had lost half its cargo in a squall, so he'd finished earlier than normal.

  Turning away from the cottage, Raslin headed down the street, the cobblestones clicking under his boots as he walked.

  He headed away from town, towards the ocean. Maybe he'd take up sailing, Raslin pondered as he walked. Once Ailynn was settled and truly happy, he could find work on a ship. The ocean was one of the only things he enjoyed about the move to Mykon, and making his living on it, while traveling, didn't sound so bad to him.

  The stretch of beach he was headed to was deserted most of the time. The beach was more rock than sand, covered in driftwood, dried seaweed, and broken seashells. Raslin climbed over the rocks, settling on a large, smooth stone that was close to the water.

  The ocean was calm, the afternoon sun glinting off the blue-green waters. The breeze blowing off the waves teased through his hair. Seagulls circled overhead, their squawking cries almost drowned out by the waves crashing against the rocks. It was peaceful, quiet, a far cry from the noise and rush of the docks.

  Raslin wasn't sure how long he'd sat there when he heard the crunch of someone's boots on the rocks and shells behind him. Raslin frowned; Ailynn didn't know he came out to this stretch of beach, and he doubted she'd follow him if she did.

  "I don't have any valuables," Raslin said loudly. He hadn't encountered anyone here before, and he was disappointed his solitude was being interrupted. The person behind him snorted, and Raslin turned, ready to run off whoever was disturbing him—only to find himself speechless.

  "I don't want your valuables," Kyros said, a hesitant smile turning the corners of his lips up.

  He looked good for being dead, Raslin thought inanely. He looked rested and healthy; his hair was lighter and brighter than it had been in Ourenville, his clothing fit well and didn't look like the dregs from the rag pile, and, most importantly, he wasn't dead. Raslin gaped, unable to comprehend. His heart was beating too fast, and Kyros' smile slipped away.

  "Can I sit?" Kyros asked, looking unsure of himself, and Raslin nodded, shifting over so there was room for Kyros to sit next to him on the rock.

  "What—" Raslin started, then stopped, not sure what he was trying to say. "How did—we were told you were hanged."

  "Ah," Kyros said, running a hand through his hair nervously.

  "I had hoped that news hadn't gotten this far."

  "Two months ago," Raslin said. "Have you spoken with Ailynn yet?"

  "No one was home. I only arrived a few hours ago. I followed you from the house." That certainly explained how he'd found Raslin, at least.

  "She'll be home from market shortly." Raslin glanced at Kyros, frowning. "What happened?"

  "After I let them catch me in Ourenville—"

  "You let them catch you?" Raslin interrupted, suddenly angry.

  "I did," Kyros said, shrugging. "It gave you and my mo
ther a head start, especially after I spooked half their horses into the woods."

  Raslin shook his head, but gestured for Kyros to continue.

  "They took me back to Alesdor and gave me a rush trial."

  Kyros smiled; it was a bitter, unpleasant expression. "I was found guilty and sentenced to death. That didn't happen."

  "Obviously," Raslin said when Kyros paused. He wanted to reach out and touch Kyros, to reassure himself this wasn't a daydream and Kyros was actually there, was actually still alive.

  "They stepped up," Kyros said softly. "I was set to be hanged a week after the trial, but the men I'd been working with managed what I couldn't. They got the signatures and went to the Crown. The council was disbanded, and my case was reinvestigated. I was cleared—someone in the council's pocket flipped and told them I'd been framed."

  Raslin stared at Kyros, wondering if he was making that up.

  Why would Kyros lie, though? "That's it?"

  "That's it." Kyros hesitated briefly, then continued, "I had hoped to come back sooner, but with one thing and another, I couldn't leave right away."

  "You weren't getting any less dead from here," Raslin said dryly, making Kyros snort. He still couldn't quite believe it, and Raslin reached out, poking Kyros' shoulder. Kyros gave him a curious look, raising an eyebrow.

  "They want me to be a member of the new council they're convening," Kyros said, and there was the other shoe. Kyros would be going back to Alesdor again, then; this would only be a short visit. Raslin tried to ignore the way his stomach sank; Kyros alive and in Alesdor was better than Kyros dead. That Kyros was alive at all should be more than enough to satisfy him. "I said no."

  "So … are you staying here?" Raslin asked, frowning in confusion.

  "I'm not going back," Kyros confirmed, running a hand through his hair again. He shifted in his seat. "As to whether I stay … well, I don't have to, if you don't want me here."

  Raslin smacked the back of Kyros' head. Kyros jerked, startled, and fell off the rock. "Don't be an idiot. I spent the last few months thinking you were dead, and now you think I want you to leave again?"