by Anna Logan
Once again, Jay was satisfied. So was Grrake. And Shanteya nodded her acceptance.
They all sat down again, picking up abandoned forks. How they were supposed to continue the dinner from here, he didn’t know.
But, once again, Jaylee played peacemaker. “Why don’t you tell us about your other children, Shanteya. Jakauthe and Presna, I believe?”
Shanteya flashed a polite smile and went along. “Jakauthe is twenty, Presna not quite seventeen. They’re opposites in every way.”
“But you’re confident in Jakauthe taking the throne?” Grrake asked.
“Yes. He is quite young...but I think he’ll do well. There are always hiccups, of course.” Her gaze shifted to Yhkon. Great. Probably the end of easy small talk that didn’t involve him. “Will you tell me about you?”
He fidgeted in his chair. “What about me?” Grrake had been writing her letters about his life for two decades, what else did she need to know?
“I know, I’m sorry, it’s a strange question.” She managed a laugh. “I just...want to get to know you, I guess.”
Confound this entire mess. “Well I…” Blast. I what?
For the third time, Jaylee saved him. “To summarize, he’s stubborn, moody, and adorable.” She took his hand and kissed it with an affectionate grin. “The first time I met him, he was seventeen. He’d just been made a Warden, just gotten his first celith, Ash...he’d gone out for a ride in the woods...I happened upon him right after the colt had thrown him.”
This he could talk about with minimal suffering. “Blasted animal. The first of many times.”
Grrake tilted his head. “I didn’t know you two had met before...well, that you’d met that early.”
Before Jaylee had been one of the volunteers to rescue Yhkon from his suicide mission to Aydimor, was the part he’d omitted. Jaylee continued on smoothly. “Indeed. He did his level best to ignore me in the following years, even when I became an Elikwai.” When he started to object, she simpered at him. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the times you’d walk into the arena, see I was there, and leave much sooner than usual.”
“Well...you were…” At her raised eyebrow, he smiled just a little. “Terrifyingly enthusiastic.”
“And then of course,” she pointed a finger at him accusingly, “once you were stuck with me after I became a Warden, even after it was quite clear you were absolutely infatuated with me, you still denied it and made me wait for three years.”
Looking at Jaylee’s beautiful smile and dancing eyes, he would have kissed her, if Shanteya weren’t around. “You courted at least four other men in those three years.”
She shrugged innocently. “Well, three of them were during the first year, when you were still doggedly refusing to so much as flirt with me. A girl has to have a little fun.” Another shrug, and a dazzling smile. “And the fourth one, a few months ago...well, that was just to make sure you realized just how desperately you needed me. He was quite charming, though.”
“He was two inches shorter than you, sounded like a dying zorc when he laughed, and—”
“Is this jealousy I hear?”
He laughed without meaning to. Shanteya and Grrake did, too. Leave it to Jay to so flawlessly salvage what had seemed a lost cause. The dinner progressed somewhat easily after that...not without awkward moments, but no more fights and nothing Jaylee couldn’t solve.
Finally, the meal was finished, they’d been there for almost an hour, and it seemed acceptable to leave. Out in the hallway, he’d just decided they were safe, when a hand landed on his arm and there was Shanteya again. “Yhkon...I’m sorry about earlier. Thank you for staying. Maybe...maybe tomorrow you’d show me around the palace, or something?”
While he was racking his brain for an excuse, Jaylee was discreetly elbowing him. “Ah...alright.”
“Could I come at ten o’clock?”
Inwardly groaning, he nodded.
“Thank you.” She smiled, gave his arm a squeeze, and left again.
As soon as she was out of earshot he groaned aloud. “Come on,” Jaylee laughed and took his hand, “I’m sure it will be delightful. In any case…” She stopped walking, turning to face him. “I think it is past time you kissed me properly.”
Grinning, he happily obliged.
The next morning, ten o’clock came far too quickly.
A knock at the door, and there was Shanteya. “Good morning.” She stepped to the side, so he could exit. Begrudgingly, he did. He had endless planning to do. They were about to start a war. At least a dozen people he needed to meet with, a hundred decisions and plans to make, a thousand details to keep track of. But here he was. With his mother.
“So Grrake hasn’t shown you the palace?” Yhkon already knew that he had.
“He has. You can show me anything you like. I just wanted some time with you.”
Great. Can’t wait. “Okay…”
“Maybe you could show me the Elikwai barracks. You lived there several years with your…” A pause. “With Grrake, didn’t you?”
“Seven years.” He directed them to the nearest exit on the western side of the palace.
“You still spend a lot of time there?”
“It’s where we train, so yes.”
He felt her eyes on him. A sideways glance proved it. “I’m proud of you. You’ve overcome a great deal and come out the strongest warrior in all of Calcaria.”
He swallowed, opening the final door for her. They were hit by a blast of frigid wind. It saved him from having to answer, as they pulled scarves over their faces and hunched their shoulders.
As soon as they had covered the quarter of a mile and were in the barracks, however, it was back to conversation. Except she didn’t say anything, as they entered the mess hall. That was fine by him—he could focus his attention on meeting any hostile stares sent his way by Elikwai. For the most part, the general dislike for him had abated with time and—if he was being honest—with his cooled temper, in the last three years. Not completely. There were still enough unfriendly eyes on him that he took Shanteya through the mess hall quickly, into the lounge that was far less frequented, and quieter.
She pointed to a couple chairs at a table. “Can we sit?”
Sitting was more awkward than walking. Still, he sat.
Now she wasted no time in restarting the conversation. “Why were some of those men watching you?”
Blast. “Just the ones that don’t care for me. Can’t be friends with everyone.” Don’t press it...
“Why don’t they?”
A more vehement inward curse. “Either because they’re jealous of me or because I’ve never made much effort at popularity.”
She tilted her head, considering him. Her eyes were silver and icy. A couple people had already commented that they looked alike, another thing that didn’t sit well. “But now you do?”
“Now I...I’m better at being nice.”
Her expression was almost skeptical.
Yhkon frowned. “If you’re thinking of last night…”
“No, no…” She shook her head. “I realize that I was in the wrong last night.”
Oh, bother. If she was apologizing, he probably had to. “I didn’t mean what I said to Grrake.”
She nodded, slowly. “Did you mean what you said to me?”
Gsorvi. She was making this as hard as possible. “I don’t know.”
Shanteya folded her hands on the table. “I understand why you feel that way. I know that it’s been twenty years, that you don’t even remember me. But I need you to know that I love you. It could have been forty years, and I would still love you just as much.” She reached across, taking his hand that he now wished he’d put elsewhere. “I promise I’m trying. Last I saw you, you were four years old, now you’re twenty-seven...I’m still wrapping my head around that. But I will.”
He had no idea what to say. And he didn’t know how long he had to leave his hand in hers, before it would be acceptable to move it. Fortunately,
she let go on her own.
“I guess I...understand as well.” That was the best he could do in the way of reciprocating. Should he try to explain his side? That in those twenty years, he’d never had a mother, and twenty-seven was a little late to get one? He hadn’t had a father, either. It was like being adopted by strangers, but as an adult. “And I guess I’m wrapping my head around having parents.” That didn’t sound right. But it had already left his mouth.
“You still have a hard time with your father, don’t you?”
Clearly, referring to Grrake as his father wasn’t a habit to be easily broken. He lied without even thinking. “Not really.”
She saw right through it. He could tell by the way her eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
But she moved on. “You were close to the Falstons, weren’t you? Bactah and his parents?”
“Still am,” he mumbled. Was she jealous that Annyve Falston had played a somewhat motherly role in his life? You can suck it up and—
“I’m glad.” Her smile was sincere. “I’m glad you had something of a family. They sound like good people.”
They were good people. And he’d always had some appreciation, maybe even some affection, for Annyve as the closest thing he had to a mother. He had little interest in replacing her with this stranger, this retired queen he’d never met.
Once again, she moved on, apparently not requiring a response from him. “You’re very fond of Talea, aren’t you?”
That wasn’t any great insight. He didn’t remember much of what he’d managed to squeeze out of himself into the few letters he’d sent Shanteya, but no doubt a lot of it had been about Talea. And their relationship probably would have been included in Grrake’s much more numerous and much more detailed letters.
“Are you worried about her, in the war? She seems...hesitant, to be a leader.”
That, he had to admit, was somewhat insightful. Talea was an excellent actress. She’d never been able—and rarely tried—to fool him, however. “She is. But she’s plenty capable.”
“As a warrior, or as a leader, do you mean?”
Yhkon eyed her, wondering at her questions. Was information about Talea some sort of indirect way to learn more about him? An effort to get closer to him by showing interest in something he cared about? “Certainly as a warrior. I’ve done my best to pa-prepare her to lead, but she’s…” Why was he telling her this? He hadn’t even shared any concerns about it with Grrake.
Shanteya nodded slowly. “She’s young. And not set in her beliefs.”
How had she figured that out? A lucky guess? “What makes you…?”
“Partially an observation from my interactions with her. Partially a guess based on her circumstances. She’s gone from a laborer to the leader of an army within three years, all as a teenager. And she’s expected to lead a war against her home region.” Shanteya thoughtfully traced her finger over a bracelet on her opposite wrist. “I may not have experience with that, but I do understand the feeling of being given such a burden of authority, without having chosen it.”
The flare of anger in his gut was immediate. “You did choose it.”
Her jaw became firm as she met his glare. “For the good of everyone, including you.”
Yhkon laughed, without any mirth. “Not that I nec-necessarily wish I’d had you for a mother...but I h-hardly think it was better for me to grow up as an orphan.” He grit his teeth and made an effort to slow his speech. She deserved to hear every word, loud and clear. “You realize that after Grrake left us, we all sh-shared one bed for warmth in the winter because there wasn’t enough firewood, and we were lucky to have two meals a day? For years. Until they died.”
Shanteya flinched. “Renbrook never said…”
“What?”
“Renbrook…” The resolve had melted out of her features, and her voice. “The man that carried letters back and forth for Grrake and I...he checked on you for me. He never said…”
Well, either this Renbrook was blind, or a liar. “You thought we were happy and cozy in our little laborer’s village? Is that it?”
“No, but I…” She took a deep breath, jaw becoming firm again. “I would certainly change things if I could. But if I had run to Zentyre with you, my father would never have stopped hunting us. Once he was told you were dead, he was willing to let Grrake be. But he never would have left me alone.”
That doesn’t change things. He stood up. “I don’t care. About any of it. And I’m not interested in your weak explanations.”
He only made it a few steps before she grabbed his arm. He shook off her grip, but against his better judgement, waited to see what she had to say for herself.
“Why is it so impossible for you to give me a chance?” He couldn’t tell if she was angry, or pained. Either way, she spoke in a tight whisper. “Yes, I made mistakes, and they hurt you. But I did my best. It killed me but I did what I thought was best for you. So did your father. Why are you so determined to be angry at us?”
Yhkon stared at her, unable to get anything off his tongue.
The fire in her eyes softened. She stepped closer, and took his arm. “I can only imagine the things you’ve suffered, Yhkon, and I am sorry. I will always be sorry. I just want…” She sighed, and there was no anger. Just pain, as she whispered, almost to herself, “Maybe I shouldn’t have come at all.”
He clenched his fists. “You’re here now,” he muttered. “Just...be here for Grrake. Not for me.” He gingerly pulled his arm out of her hands, and walked away.
~♦~
Voices, muffled by the door.
Yhkon paused. Knowing he shouldn’t, knowing he should keep walking to his own door. As if eavesdropping weren’t unwise on moral grounds, it was also unwise because of the likelihood of being caught—one of the other Wardens or a family member could walk out from another of the doors that lined the hallway at any moment.
Still he edged closer, placing each foot slowly lest the floor should creak, positioning himself a few inches from the door to listen.
It used to be that there was nothing to listen to, not at this particular door. Not unless Larak or another of the Wardens, or maybe Jed or one of the wards, needed a private discussion with Grrake. Usually, the only other person in there, late in the evening like this, was Yhkon.
Now, there was a female voice to be heard. “No, Grrake, you can’t—”
“I can’t abandon you here.” Grrake’s voice. “You only just got here.”
Yhkon’s poised muscles twitched. He had wondered if Grrake would want to stay in Calcaria, with Shanteya here. He’d wondered, and he’d tried to convince himself that no, his father’s first loyalty was to the wards, the other Wardens, and the San Quawr.
Apparently not.
“I know.” Shanteya’s speech was cool and refined, even when she was speaking to Grrake. Yhkon knew he often sounded similar...yet there was nothing familiar about her voice, to him. “And you know that I don’t want you to go, or Yhkon to go...I wish it wasn’t this way, but it is. You also know that I of all people will tell you that your duty to your people comes first.”
That loyalty to the San Quawr should be coming from her mouth, rather than Grrake’s, hardened his frown.
“And you know that I’ve never felt that way.” There was affection in the words, making it clear that the difference of perspectives wasn’t a wedge between them. “Maybe I should...but I can’t. My family will always come first.”
Shanteya answered quickly and firmly. “That’s exactly why you need to go.” A pause. Yhkon imagined her taking Grrake’s hand, or caressing his cheek, and found it difficult to remain silently standing there. “For our son. He needs you. I do too...but he needs you more.”
Yhkon barely remembered to keep his gait soft as he left the door and those two voices—one familiar, one foreign—behind. It took effort not to slam the door as he entered his quarters.
He’d forgotten that Jaylee would be there. She got up from the sofa with a pucker
in her brow. “That is not a good face.”
Part of him wanted to go to her. The other part wanted to walk back out and go somewhere else, his apartment no longer a haven of solitude as it had once been. Letting the tension ease from his shoulders, he forced himself to choose the first inclination. That second temptation had hurt her and almost driven her away, more than once—they were married now. It was time to set it aside. “I was just thinking that Grrake should stay here. With Shanteya...it’s different.”
Jaylee crossed the room to put her arms around him, chin tilted up to consider him with those beautiful amber eyes. “The other Wardens have wives and families here, and they’ll still go.”
“But they weren’t separated for twenty years.”
Her gaze became more of a scrutiny. “This is not quite the mindset I was expecting you to have...am I missing something?”
Should he just tell her? That it was Grrake who wanted to stay? But how could he explain the overheard conversation, without also admitting that if that was how Grrake felt…he didn’t want his father to come. “No, you’re right. But if he wants to, I’m not going to argue.”
“Alright.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Sounds to me like you need to visit your parents.”
He groaned. He hadn’t told Jaylee about his last interaction with Shanteya, yesterday—they hadn’t talked since. “Why both? Grrake is—”
“Yhkon.” She smiled at him. “Both. Shanteya is your mother, try to give her at least a little attention before we leave for who knows how long.”
While he sighed, she opened the door and nudged him out of it, giving him a final kiss and a wink before she left him alone in the hallway. Steeling himself, he went to Grrake’s door and was about to knock, when it opened.
“Oh.” Shanteya smiled at him, that look of love and worry and restraint all at once. Perhaps a little more restraint, in light of the last thing he’d said to her. “I was just about to leave...I’m guessing you’d like to talk to your father.”
I’d prefer to talk to Grrake, if he’s available. “Both of you, actually, if you’d stay a moment.”