Part One #4
“He’s what? Half your age?” Hely guessed quietly. He wouldn’t have missed how Westin was staring.
Westin tore his gaze away to blankly consider the far wall.
He took a breath, then tried a smile. “Not quite that.” His attention returned to Sun, who seemed amusingly taken aback by the selection the bar offered: ales, wines, and teas from all across the country, with no loyalty to any particular noble family, not even the one who controlled the land the inn was on.
“Five or six years off from that,” Westin added, then made himself turn to Hely and Hely’s expression of patient interest. There was no judgment in Hely’s tone, but there didn’t need to be. “Though still far too old for him.”
Hely met his stare levelly, evidently wanting Westin to know he was sincere. “I didn’t say that.”
Westin only sighed. That he was on the verge of retirement said enough. He poured himself a cup of tea and answered without tasting it.
“Too old for anything beyond what any outguards might do together,” he amended. His future should be spoken of. “Hely, I plan to leave the—”
“There you are!” Sun called out, and Westin knew it was directed at him from both the flip in his chest and the reproach in Sun’s tone.
Westin had done something to vex the brat, which happened often and was rarely explained, although since the consequences mostly meant Sun teasing him, Westin had never fought hard for an explanation.
Sun moved with swift purpose, as if he intended to plant himself in Westin’s lap despite the height of the chair and the table in his way.
Sun hadn’t once ever sat in Westin’s lap in public despite acting as if he were entitled to; Westin was weaving fantasies with that summer day and his lonely future on his mind.
Sun was halfway to Westin’s table when his gaze fell on Hely.
His open-mouthed smile sharpened. His demeanor shifted from eager and excited to something altogether more calculated and worrying.
Tura’s customer tracked Sun’s dangerous, deliberate progress until Tura clucked his tongue and left the table without a word of farewell.
The customer, realizing his mistake, scrambled after him—too late, unless that was a game they played.
“Confidence works for your Sun,” Hely remarked for only Westin to hear. He was watching the brat’s approach as well.
Westin couldn’t blame him. “Yes, it does.”
“West,” Sun showed his teeth in a different smile, “there you are.”
Westin forced away the sliver of worry, or perhaps fear, at that smile and whether or not it was for Hely. “Is someone looking for me?”
Sun stopped. His hand tightened around the straps to his travel pack. “Lani said you often come here on your way to the capital.” He didn’t make it a question, but Westin heard it as one.
Sun glanced to Hely, then turned on his bright, charming attitude the way Westin had turned on the tap to the hot water for his expensive bath. Suddenly, Sun didn’t look like someone who could be considered a walking armory of hidden weapons.
Westin normally approved of those weapons. The life of an outguard could be dangerous, and Sun was on the smaller side and needed extra protection. But he would prefer to avoid bloodshed in an inn known for peace.
“I do often stop here, yes,” Westin said in the mild tone he used to end fights before they began.
Perhaps Sun recognized it, because his eyebrows flew up.
Then Westin, who ought to know better, who was certainly old enough to know not to poke wild creatures, couldn’t resist adding, “Was there a desperate need for me?”
“Westin,” Hely chastised, although Westin didn’t dwell on what he’d done to deserve that tone. Not with the brat’s cheeks flushing darker and his eyes wide and alarmed and pretty.
The surprise was only for a moment anyway. Then Sun fluttered his eyelashes and answered in an overly sweet voice, “You know you’re irresistible to me, West.”
Westin scoffed and shook his head. He was about to tease back in kind when Hely tapped the hand Westin had resting on the table.
Sun’s gaze fell, possibly to Hely’s hand over Westin’s before Hely removed it to reach for his wine again. Then Sun was even more obnoxiously charming.
“And hello to you, handsome older stranger. You must be a friend of Westin’s. He has so many friends.”
“He’s friendly,” Hely agreed, smooth as cream.
Westin frowned between them, certain Hely didn’t need a wolf pup chewing on his shoes, but uncertain if that was the case, or if Sun’s flirting was genuine. It was hard to tell with Sun. The charming demeanor wasn’t a lie, exactly, but he did definitely choose to put it on.
Westin finally cleared his throat to introduce them. “This is Hely, Sun. He works here. And yes, he is a friend.”
For a moment, Sun looked at Westin as though Westin had just cheated at cards or stolen his horse. Then he was back to regarding Hely too warmly, too brightly. “I’m Sun. I would have said I was a friend until now.”
Westin had his head back to retort when he realized he was being provoked.
That was Sun. Always biting. Always testing.
Never charming, not with Westin. But Westin had seen Sun grow into his skills over the years.
Maybe Sun knew Westin wouldn’t be fooled.
Or maybe he just liked to bite certain people with a pup’s needle teeth.
“Brat,” Westin finally sighed, “you know you’re my friend.”
Evidently pleased with that despite being called a brat, Sun put his sword and his pack down, pulled a chair over to the table, and plopped down across from them.
He raised his head to observe the room again as he removed his gloves and tucked them into his belt.
“It really is a nice place,” he said, and seemed sincere.
“It’s not the palace, but I’ve never thought of the palace as comfortable. ”
“Solace is for everyone,” Hely remarked. Sun’s attention slid back to him.
Westin spent yet another moment wondering if he was going to have to watch Sun flirt with Hely, but then Hely smiled coolly and Sun slouched in his seat, abandoning charm in favor of looking disgruntled to the point of sulky.
“It’s still outside of my budget,” he commented. He must have asked the bartender the prices.
“Surely not for food and a bath? Tea?” Hely offered, genuinely concerned but also making money for the inn, as was his job. “A drink? Many come here just for those, although not tonight in this weather.”
Hely got another look from Sun. It wasn’t warm this time, though. “Is that why West comes here?”
“You could ask me,” Westin pointed out. He wasn’t even spared a glance.
Hely continued to smile. “Let me know what you’d like, if you decide. I’ll see what I can do for you.”
Sun was not one to be put off with a smile. “As a friend of West’s?”
“As a customer.” Hely took, or pretended to take, another sip of wine.
When Sun pushed out a growly breath, Hely added, “And yes, as his friend. He matters to me.” He said that with weight.
Westin would have said Hely was scolding but he didn’t act like it and Sun only waited for him to go on without spiking up with temper.
“And I don’t think he’d want you to go without. ”
Sun swallowed and looked away. When he looked back—still at Hely, not at Westin—he grinned, bright and toothy. “He’s generous.”
Hely inclined his head as if a serious issue were being discussed. “Too generous, would you say?”
“Hey.” Westin was hard to miss and yet they both seemed to have forgotten him.
Sun’s eyebrows rose, then fell, staying down in a decidedly displeased manner that boded ill for someone. “I know of two guards who owe him money and who should have paid him back years ago but haven’t.”
“It’s fine,” Westin insisted. “Truly.”
It got him a glance at least, scornful though it was. “They have the funds. You’re too nice, West.”
“Says the brat,” Westin returned, taking a drink of his tea which once again was beyond its most flavorful point.
Sun gave Westin a sly, almost smug look. But silence from Hely made Westin tear his gaze away from a preening brat to look at his friend.
Hely’s stare held questions.
Westin tried to think of why Hely should seem so startled, then realized he had just teased the brat… and called him a brat, for that matter. He suddenly felt the need to explain himself to Hely as if he were a new Solace House worker.
“The others sometimes call him that,” he offered. Westin was a quiet, careful outguard and a respectful guest in all inns. Hely must think he’d lost his mind or had been at the wine. “It’s meant fondly.”
“It was not and they do not any longer.” Sun punctuated that with another show of teeth disguised as a grin. “Only Westin calls me that now.”
“Oh,” Westin said again, warm with some shame. “I didn’t realize it bothered you. I’ll stop.”
“Did I tell you to stop?” Sun scoffed to the ceiling, puffed out a breath, then gestured toward Hely. “Too nice.” He gestured again. “Too generous.”
He made no sense. Westin nearly gestured in appeal to Hely too. “That is why I still you call you that.” He paused, but had no real fear of the knives up Sun’s sleeves or in his boots or his belt or wherever else. “Brat.”
He made the ‘t’ especially crisp.
Sun lifted his chin and straightened his shoulders, but didn’t have a single, snarling reaction to the nickname, though there was some color in his cheeks.