Whisper of War and Storms (Heirs of Elydor #1)

Chapter 32

32

KAEL

“Every one of them is staring at us.”

I stared into my ale, the taste far inferior to Gyoria’s more hearty brews, and ignored Adren. Of course they stared at us. We sat at a tavern on the outskirts of Aethralis where I did not expect them to welcome us. Rowan stared out of the open window beside us, Aetherians as fond of their cool breezes as they were of their secret whispers. He’d said little since leaving the palace.

“What is everyone eating that smells so good?”

Adren would not give up on attempting to get me to talk. “A honey-glazed pastry.”

“Too sweet for him,” Adren said to Rowan. “In case you haven’t noticed, there’s nothing sweet about Kael.”

With that, Adren got up to brave the stares and, apparently, fetch some pastries for himself.

“Adren is more accepting of me than you were.” Rowan took a swig of ale.

“Were?”

In truth, my animosity toward him had weakened, but I wouldn’t let Rowan know as much.

“Not all Gyorians feel as your family does about humans. Adren is a testament to that. We do not need to be at war.”

“My father?—”

“Is a bitter old thaloran whose views are a blight to Elydor.”

How could I disagree with him when I’d thought the same, many times?

“All humans know what you did for Isolde’s parents. They do not hate you, but will, if you continue to allow hate to guide you. As he does.”

“A fine speech from a man with more secrets than truths.”

“The two are not related.”

I was in the mood to fight, and it seemed Rowan would indulge me. “Are they not? You wish to lecture me on tolerance, when in truth, I know nothing of you. Of what sort of man you are, truly. Your opinion would hold more value if you ever deemed to answer a question in a straight manner.”

“Do you wish to know me, Kael? If so, this is the first I’ve been made aware of it.”

“Your bickering is not endearing us to the Skylark’s other patrons,” Adren said, sitting and placing a tray of pastries in front of us. Rowan immediately reached out and popped one into his mouth. He and Adren made sounds that should not come from grown men, and while the two of them bonded over the Aetherian delicacies, I sat back and tried to put Mev from my mind.

Of course, it did not work.

“It’s been said, since Mev’s arrival, that the king authorized an Aetherian and a human to pass through the Gate to ascertain if it is now open.”

Rowan’s statement pulled me from my reverie.

“What happened?” Adren asked, before I could.

“Nothing. It is as inaccessible now as it always was.” He gave me a pointed look. “At least, since your father closed it.”

I didn’t flinch. Rowan was not the first, nor would he be the last, to implicate me for the Gate’s closing. In truth, I’d tried to dissuade my father. Despite my distaste for humans and the changes they wrought in Elydor, cutting them off from their families and disabling any Elydorian to ever pass through again… had not been ideal.

“He did not know his father kidnapped the queen,” Adren said.

The look of confusion on Rowan’s face was understandable. I’d told them both all that had transpired in the throne room.

Rowan grabbed another pastry. “You said Mev’s anger was because of the role you played?”

“In stealing the Wind Crystal, aye. But also that I’d asked her to trust me but failed to do the same.”

“How is it possible you did not know? You were the one who opened the Temple doors for your father. And if you did not know, why would you let Mev believe you were complicit?”

A fair question. “I deserve her anger. As to how it’s possible, that is not a story I wish to recount.”

After his third pastry, Rowan licked his fingers clean, lifted his mug, and sat back in his seat, watching me.

“I can read emotion.”

It took me a moment to fully absorb his words.

“I cannot do it at a distance, nor can I discern precise intent. But I do know, for instance, that your antagonism toward me has lessened, despite the glare you’re giving me now. I’ve felt calm when you’ve claimed anger toward me.”

“That skill is not common,” Adren said, reaching for another pastry. “Or perhaps it is? I’ve spent little time with humans these past years.”

“No, it is not common but was a skill both my parents possessed. It is one of many attributes they share, along with their good humor and intellect.”

“You can sense emotion,” I repeated.

“Aye.”

“A handy skill, one would think.”

“Quite handy.”

Which was why Rowan had stuck around, despite my treatment of him. I might have disliked the man, but I never wished him ill, and he’d known it from the start.

“That is similar to Mev’s skill, is it not?” I mused.

“Hers is more powerful. She not only senses emotion but intent as well. She can also glimpse visions of the future where my skill is wholly focused on the present.”

“By the stones,” Adren whistled.

“I appreciate you sharing your skill with me,” I said, the words less like gravel coming from me than I would have expected. “But the story of what happened that day is not mine to tell.”

Adren frowned. “Maybe not all of it. But your part, perhaps.”

I thought on my friend’s words. Rowan waited, but did not press. I looked around the tavern, noticing fewer seemed to be staring at us now. Sharing some form of an explanation would do little harm.

“I knew nothing of the queen’s capture. Just after I allowed my father entry to the Temple, I sensed a rockslide from the mountains behind us. I ran to it and stopped it from destroying the Temple. By the time I returned,” I said, regret nearly choking me, “the Gate was closed.”

Rowan did not ask questions, and I respected him for it. But he was an intelligent man and could deduce some of the details. Namely, of my father’s deceit.

“Did you tell Mev this?”

“No.”

“She needs to hear of it.”

I disagreed. “There are no excuses for my role in the Gate’s closing. And though I cared little for his methods, I never mourned the humans’ inability to continue to inhabit Elydor. Mev’s anger is justified.”

“She loves you, Kael. And will forgive you,” Rowan said, despite the tick in his jaw. His words were softly spoken, and I did not ask if they were his opinion or if he’d felt her emotions toward me.

“Just one question, and I will drop the matter.”

I looked to Adren who simply shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “He’s human. What can I say?” “What question?”

“Would Mev wish for you to decide for her, whether or not her forgiveness is warranted? Or would she prefer to make that decision herself?”

He knew the answer to that as well I did. “I need more ale.”