38. LAST GOODBYES

Galen’s story

Next to the ruins of Senera’s cottage, Kirpis

After Relos Var left to deal with Caless

The clearing was quiet with the wizard’s absence. Nighttime birds advertised their availability from the tree line nearby, and the sound of waves betrayed the cottage’s location near the coast. However, those were peaceful sounds. So at odds with their situation.

Galen walked over to Qown, who stared at him wide-eyed. Galen didn’t need to be a telepath to know that Qown was desperately wishing that Galen would stay away from him. Galen wasn’t sure which of them he was trying to protect.

“Now you’re not going to try anything stupid, are you?” Anlyr asked. “Because I won’t enjoy hurting you, but I’ll do it. Blah, blah, blah. Fill in obligatory threat about how I’ll make you wish you were dead.” He managed to make that sound not even the tiniest bit funny.

Sheloran narrowed her eyes at Anlyr, somehow more threatening than anything she’d said or done previously.

Anlyr must have thought so too, because he gestured; a glowing barrier of bright blue energy encircled Sheloran. “Don’t let the ‘extremely handsome and charming guard’ routine throw you. I’m almost as old as Relos Var, and I know magic spells that no one’s heard of in a thousand years.”

Galen glared at Anlyr as he knelt next to Qown. “And here I thought you were just a pretty face.”

“I get that a lot.”

Galen resisted the urge to roll his eyes, mostly because Anlyr probably did. There was no denying the man was pretty. That Galen fervently wanted to kill him was beside the point. “Relax, I’m not looking to make trouble. I just want to make sure my healer’s all right. He’s been useful, you know.”

Sheloran beat a hand against the magical barrier. It rebounded. “Do you mind?” she growled.

“Just keeping you out of trouble,” Anlyr said amiably. “We’re all going to have a nice little fête out in this refreshing night air and enjoy the smell of roasting chestnut wood.”

It was a beautiful evening. That was honestly the worst part of it. A little cold, yes, but the sort where the air was crisp and pure, as conifers battled with the nearby ocean for which scent would be dominant. If not for the overwhelming scent of woodsmoke, Galen had little doubt he would be overwhelmed in the beauty of it all. Small dots of light blinked off and on above his head—fireflies.

“Are you all right?” Galen asked him.

“I’m fine,” Qown said, which seemed an obvious lie. He wasn’t fine and hadn’t fine for a while now. At least it seemed Anlyr had healed Qown’s hands well enough to prevent permanent injury, but he still looked traumatized.

Galen had seen people with that look in their eyes before, but rarely outside the slave quarters. Oh, but he would make Anlyr pay for that.

“So did you two get around to fucking, or have you just been throwing longing glances at each other the whole time?” Anlyr asked Qown. He didn’t ask quietly.

Qown flushed red.

“Upset you weren’t invited?” Galen glared at the man.

Anlyr laughed. “I’ll take that as a no. I’d say now’s your last chance to fix that, but, uh, you know it is. Maybe not in front of the baby, right?” He glanced at the small child, and for a moment, his expression turned pensive. “So which one are you picking?”

A chill raced over Galen’s skin.

“What do you mean?” Galen asked.

Anlyr laughed. “Oh, come now. You must realize Relos Var’s not going to let you take everyone home even if Sheloran’s mother cuts a deal. Sheloran, obviously. You’ll probably make the cut with the ransom. But Qown? The baby? They’re optional. I figure Lord Var will let you have one of them. Which I would have thought would be an easy choice but”—he winked at Tave—“he seems to be growing on you like a vine.”

“He’s a child,” Galen protested.

“You’d be surprised how few people consider that a sufficient argument.” He paused. “Well. You are Darzin’s son. Maybe you wouldn’t be surprised.”

Qown scoffed under his breath. When Galen glanced in his direction, Qown shook his head. “Don’t let him bother you. We both know Relos Var isn’t letting me go, no matter what happens.”

“Mother knows you’re with us,” Sheloran said. “She’ll make you part of the ransom.”

Qown nodded as he stared down at his hands. He’d been drawing the tip of one nail against the palm of his other hand, a nervous tick Galen had never seen before. It almost looked like Qown was practicing drawing a glyph, repeating the same shape again and again.

Qown looked up and met Galen’s eyes. He gave him a sad, apologetic sort of smile. Galen felt a piercing sense of dread.

Galen realized in that moment that Qown didn’t think he was going to survive this.

Worse, Galen couldn’t guarantee he was wrong.