He sucked in a breath at the glitter of rage in Laen’s eyes, and wondered if he should perhaps have kept his mouth shut.
"Idiot!" Laen snapped, his fists clenched as he took a menacing step forward.
Corin's own temper flared and he surged to his feet, pointing an accusing finger at Laen. "Then why did you leave?” he demanded, as his magic burst to life, filling the tent with light. “If you didn't mean it, why not just cool off and sulk for a day or two? Why leave me here, when I needed you most, and go running back to your father, of all people?"
"Because I was bloody furious, you fool!" Laen raged, the dark, swirling cloud of his own magic coiling into the light, filling the atmosphere with the weight of their combined anger.
Corin stared at him for a moment, and knew he didn’t have the heart for it. He did not want to fight. Not any more, no matter how angry he was or had been. "I'm so sorry, Laen.” The words were quiet but sincere, exhaustion dragging at his bones as he just wished things could be like they had been before. “Please believe me when I say I don't want this.” He stared at Laen, praying that he could find it in him to believe his words. “If I could get up and leave this minute, go back to Alfheim and know someone else would sort out this damnable mess instead of me, then I swear that I would. I don't want it,” he repeated, the words hard and rather angry all at once, though it was the gods who he wanted to rage at now, not Laen. “I don’t want any of it, but more than anything, I don't want to take what's yours.” Corin took a step closer to see Laen’s eyes glittering with emotion. “Please,” he said, his voice rough. “Please, forgive me."
For a moment, he saw Laen’s throat work, then the muscle twitching in his jaw that didn’t bode well; he wasn’t done yet. As he’d suspected, Laen turned on him. "That wasn't what I was angry about, damn you!” he shouted, though Corin was perplexed to discover he sounded more frustrated than angry now. Laen ran a hand through his hair in exasperation, glaring at him. “Gods! Do you still not understand?” he demanded, throwing his hands up in vexation. “I don't give a damn about the bloody crown!"
Corin frowned back, angry now and perplexed too. If they were going to get through this, if they were going to find some way to salvage their friendship, then they had to be honest, they must both be honest.
"Don't lie,” he shouted back. “Don’t you dare lie to me now. Of course you care!"
Laen span around with a curse and kicked a nearby foot stool with such savagery that it shattered into pieces, sending broken wood and splinters flying. He stood with his back to Corin, hands on hips and breathing hard before composing himself and turning back. "Fine," he said, his huge chest heaving as he fought to calm himself. "You are right. I do care, but not enough … not nearly enough. Certainly not enough to see you dead just to put a damn crown on my head.” He paused, hauling in a deep breath and letting it go again. “I don't want it, Corin,” he said, his voice steady now as he looked Corin in the eye, his gaze unwavering. “I never have, not really. To see the look in my stepmother's eyes when I took my place on the throne, for that, yes, I wanted it, but now the shock has worn off … to see you there and me at your side, that would be enough.” He hesitated, the barest trace of a smile at his lips. “It’s not like you are going to throw me off of my land, take my home from me, is it?"
"Of course not!” Corin exclaimed, appalled by the idea and still trying to take in the enormity of what Laen had just told him. He sat down again, too stunned to say anything for the moment as he processed his words. But, if that was true, it didn’t explain why Laen had carried through with his anger, and left him to stand alone. “But then why ...?" he began, but didn't get to finish the sentence as Laen stepped forward, grasping him by the arms and hauling him to his feet.
"You know why,” he snarled, furious all over again. “You must know!"
"Laen, I did not lie to you! I swear it." Corin pushed away from him, putting some distance between them as Laen’s magic made his skin feel too tight. "I tried to tell you,” he continued, wishing that circumstances had not conspired against him. Could all of this have been avoided? “I swear to you, I tried, but ...”
"I know."
“Every time I tried to explain something ..."
"I said, I know!" Laen shouted, and Corin stopped in his tracks. "After …” Laen waved his hand, clearly not wanting to refer directly to their terrible fight and the removal of the armies Corin had been relying on. “After I left. I thought about everything that had happened. I replayed every conversation, I thought about everything you’d said, and … I realised that you'd been trying to tell me."
Corin nodded and took a step forward as hope lit in his chest. "I did try."
"Yes," Laen agreed, though his fierce expression was far from encouraging. "But it doesn't change anything. I'm still mad as hell."
"Oh?" Corin's heart sank and he wondered how much longer they had before the bell tolled. The idea of going to face the ordeal ahead of him with things so raw between them was eating away at his nerves. "What else did I do?" he asked, wondering what else he would be accused of.
Laen closed the gap between them and gave him a hard shove, making him stumble backwards. “We swore an oath, you stupid bastard!"
Corin steadied himself, staring back at Laen, incredulous that this of all things could be held again him. “I know that!” he shouted stalking back to him and shoving Laen in return thought the bastard didn’t so much as budge an inch. “You swore it, too.” he hissed, his own temper blazing now as that long-buried anger surged to the surface. “You swore you would never leave me alone like that again. You swore you would always be there if I needed you, no matter what. No matter what, Laen!”
“I know what I swore,” Laen raged, his face distorted with fury as he moved closer and shouted right in Corin’s face. “That’s the whole damned point!”
Corin hesitated, frowning as he wondered what he’d missed. "I don’t understand,” he said, frustration burning. “I already told you I didn't lie to you."
"I know that!” Laen put his hands in his hair, looking like he might actually tear it out in frustration. “That is not why I'm angry!" The words were bitten out as Laen stood still, glaring at Corin.
"Then why...?" Corin ground to a halt, utterly confused. He moved closer to Laen and was shocked to see that it wasn’t anger in his eyes, but such hurt that Corin felt guilt explode in his chest, despite having no idea why. "Laen, please,” he said, his anger falling away in the face of such distress. “What did I do? I don't understand."
"You knew,” Laen said, his voice taut, as though he was holding his emotions in a death grip. “You knew when we were at Alfheim, before we left. Didn't you?"
Corin swallowed and nodded. "Yes. I knew."
Laen took a breath, and it was a moment before he spoke again. "You didn't trust me,” he said, the words low now, though the pain behind them was audible enough. “You didn't tell me because you were afraid I wouldn't get you here in time. You thought I would let you down."
"What?" Corin stepped forward and grasped his arm. “No! No, Laen, I didn't think of it like that. I didn’t think that … that you would let me down, not purposely, at least, but I knew you would be angry. Gods, Laen, you had every right to be angry."
"Yes, I would have been angry, damn you,” Laen flung back at him, raising a fist in fury and shaking it in his face. “But did you really think I would let you down? That I would have risked letting you die?" he demanded, the wounded look in his eyes hard to ignore.
"I ..." Corin stared at him and swallowed. Anxiety clawed at his stomach as he chose his words with care. They stood on a knife’s edge here, and no matter their mutual desire to mend this rift, it could so easily go the wrong way. “I would have been forcing you to choose, Laen. To choose between me and your father, your inheritance. I had no right to do that.” He watched with anxiety knotting his guts as Laen’s fists clenched and released, the tension rolling off him in waves.
“You had ev
ery right, dammit.” Laen’s voice was so low and angry that for a moment, Corin didn’t hear the meaning of his words. “That man is no father to me, he never has been.” Corin stared back at him in shock, stunned by his words. Laen’s face softened as his anger seemed to fall away all at once. “I will have a child soon, Corin, and the thought of treating it in the way that he has treated me over the years ...” He stopped then as his voice broke, and Corin swallowed hard, looking away to give the man a moment to compose himself. Laen rarely showed any emotion other than anger. Corin looked up again as Laen cleared his throat. He stared at Corin and took a breath. “I don’t know what would have become of me if not for you,” he said, and Corin saw guilt flickering in his eyes now. “I was not always kind to you. I have not always been the friend I should have been.” He snorted, then, and shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “No. That’s not true. I have been an utter bastard to you at times, and if you’d have had a grain of sense, you’d have told me to get lost and not come back. But you never did.” Laen paused, his throat working for a moment before he carried on. “You never gave up on me. You never turned me away, even … even when I had treated you so very badly.”
Corin swallowed hard. He wanted to speak, to reassure Laen that nothing had changed, but he wasn’t sure it was true. They had both done so much damage this time. Laen was right, and they both knew it. Corin had been afraid that Laen’s temper would get the better of him. He had seen it happen so many times, in so many circumstances, and had suffered himself because of it. Yes, they had sworn an oath, but this time Corin’s life and the future of the Fae Lands had hung in the balance, and it had made him afraid. It had made him remember the time when Laen had turned against him with such violence when his intentions had been so kindly meant. No matter that they had been little more than boys at the time. His betrayal had been so profound that Corin hadn’t trusted him enough to give him the chance to stand by his side.
Silence settled around them, heavy and uncomfortable.
When Laen finally spoke, his voice seemed harsh against the fierce quiet between them. “I can’t believe you thought I would let you die,” he said, and Corin could not meet his eyes. The hurt in his voice was hard enough to endure. “Have you any idea how that made me feel, to know that when it came to down to it, you simply didn’t trust me?”
Corin shook his head. He opened his mouth to tell Laen that he didn’t believe he would have done it deliberately, that his anger might simply have delayed them, but then he realised it was a lie. He hadn’t trusted him, it was that simple. Laen had destroyed his trust all of those years ago, and despite everything, Corin had never quite managed to forgive him for it. “I’m sorry.” He looked up at Laen, wondering if that was enough.
Laen sat down and put his head in hands. “I know,” he said, his voice weary now.
Corin stared at the miserable figure and felt his heart clench with guilt and with fear that things were too broken between them to be repaired. “I should have trusted you,” he said, even though he knew his fears had been justified. “I wish I had.”
Laen nodded. “Yes,” he said, his voice harsh. “You should have.” Corin felt his hopes plummet at the anger behind those words. Laen was not a forgiving man. He could hold a grudge for bloody decades, longer, even. “But …” Corin looked back at Laen in surprise, there was never usually a ‘but’. “But I understand why you didn’t.” Laen snorted with amusement at the shock on his face. “What?” he demanded, one eyebrow quirking. “I can be reasonable, too.”
Corin’s eyes widened a little at that, but he forced himself to hold his tongue.
Laen sat back in the chair with a sigh, rubbing a filthy, bloody hand over his face with a groan. “I can’t bear this,” he said, sounding miserable and worn-out. “I don’t want us to fight anymore.”
“Me, either,” Corin said, hoping Laen could hear how much he meant it. “And you do look like you’ve had your fair share of fighting,” he observed, casting his eye over Laen. His right eye was swelling shut as they spoke; his knuckles looked like they’d had a bolder dropped on them; and he was bleeding from at least a dozen minor wounds that Corin could see, the gods alone knew what was hidden. “What, exactly, happened with your father?” he asked, needing to know now just what Laen had said and done.
Laen shrugged. “I said I was leaving. He said I wasn’t.” He snorted as Corin gave a huff of frustration, knowing full well this was the kind of thing that drove him to distraction.
“Laen, do you remember the many times I have instructed you on the art of conversation?” Corin muttered, holding onto his patience before the oaf made him lose what little remained of his sanity. “Do you think perhaps you could elaborate,” he asked, his tone strained, if polite. “Just a little?”
There was a grunt of amusement and Laen grinned at him, a sight that Corin refused to dwell on for fear of embarrassing them both. “Fine,” Laen replied, sitting forward now. “I told him I would stand beside you, and we fought. He called his guard and, well, to be honest, I thought I might have misjudged things as all hell let loose.” He took a breath as Corin tried to imagine the courage it must have taken for him to face his father and tell him he was leaving to come here. “Then the army heard the ruckus and came charging in.” Laen cleared his throat, frowning a little as he remembered. “There was a bit of a … discussion whilst everyone chose what side they were on, but happily, things went my way.” He grinned again as Corin raised an eyebrow at him. “Half of our camp has been burned to the ground, and by the time I managed to get away from my father, well …” He shrugged, looking suddenly sheepish. “Here I am.”
Corin took a breath, more relieved than he could say that Laen had been loyal to him in the end. He frowned, though, as he noticed the steady drip, drip of blood that was pattering to the floor from somewhere about Laen’s person. He stepped closer to him. “You’re hurt,” he said as Laen shook his head, waving him away.
“Nothing serious,” he said, grumbling and looking impatient as Corin began to look him over. “It can wait. You should save your magic. The gods know you’re going to need it.”
“Get up, you fool,” Corin muttered, too tired to argue with him, and yanked at his arm. “If healing you will make a difference to the outcome, then frankly, I’m already dead.” Laen glowered for a moment and then gave in, pulling himself to his feet with a groan. He swayed a little and Corin grabbed his arm, steadying him.
“Gods, man, look at the state of you. I thought you said it wasn’t your blood.”
Laen shook his head. “I said most of it wasn’t mine,” he corrected.
Corin laughed and shook his head, and then moved forward to heal the wounds that Laen carried, or at least, the visible ones.
***
Laen closed his eyes as Corin’s magic washed over him, easing the ache in his bones, mending cuts and torn ligaments, healing the wound in his side which had perhaps been a little deeper than he’d realised. He sighed with relief as the warmth of his healing not only repaired, but renewed, sending energy surging through his blood again, relieving some of the dreadful tension that had made his head pound and his neck so stiff he could barely turn his head.
Once he was healed, Laen opened his eyes in time to see Corin move away from him. Though it was ridiculous, he felt his heart sink. Before this had happened, Corin would have hugged him. Laen would have stood there, awkward and immobile and praying he would stop. Corin would then have taunted him for his embarrassment as Laen glowered in return, but … but that was how it should be. Now, though, there was restraint between them, and he felt the loss of that contact more keenly that he would have thought possible. He needed it back. He needed it to be like it was before.
It was strange, really. Corin may think that he didn’t know it, but Corin had begun to treat him in such a way after the terrible argument they’d had as boys. The man had always been tactile, to say the least, never hesitating to give someone he cared for a hug or a kiss
, male or female, he didn’t seem to make any distinction. But before that day, he’d always been careful to be reserved with Laen, sensing he found it hard to deal with. After that, though - once Laen had found the guts to apologise, in his way, by giving him his grandfather’s sword - after that, he’d deliberately put his arm around Laen, or hugged him, a look in his eyes that dared Laen to make something of it, dared him to accuse him of having an ulterior motive as he’d done that day. But Laen hadn’t dared. He’d vowed he would never again do anything to put their friendship at such risk, and he’d meant it. He knew Corin had suffered because of him, more than he had known at the time, but he’d made himself miserable, too. So he said nothing when Corin pushed at his personal space, or even made out he was flirting with him, and little by little, it had stopped being a punishment for his betrayal, and simply became the way things were, an expression of their friendship, even if Laen could never bring himself to return the gesture.
But now everything was as raw and abraded as it had been when they were boys, and Laen didn’t know how to fix it. He couldn’t wait another century for things to return to the way they’d been. He had to do something.
“Did you really tell my father you loved me?” he asked, blurting the words out as his face felt like it was on fire.
Corin had been pouring himself a glass of water but he looked up at that. He snorted as he returned his attention to the glass. “Oh, gods, you should have seen the look on his face,” he said, shaking his head. “I thought for a moment that he’d actually give in and kill me, either that or die of rage, or disgust, preferably both.”
“I would have paid good money to see that,” Laen said, smiling as Corin laughed.
The Darkest Night Page 34