92. Cuts that Bleed the Deepest
Chapter 92
Cuts that Bleed the Deepest
25 th Day of the Blood Moon
Salme – Winter, Year 3081 After Doom
The sun bled over the horizon at Calen’s back as Valerys soared across the tall, harsh peaks of Wolfpine Ridge. He’d not seen those peaks in a long time, and something about them set a warmth within him. Far in the distance, through Valerys’s eyes, he could see the green canopy of ?lm Forest stretching off towards the coast, The Glade somewhere along its edge.
The journey from the Firnin Mountains had taken longer than he’d hoped, but thanks to Therin, Varthear’s deepest wounds were faring well. The elf sat behind Calen, arms wrapped around his waist, Varthear flying on their left, Avandeer and Tivar on their right.
They passed over the blackened remains of Talin as they flew, along with a few spread out homesteads, farms, and holds. Flocks of crows feasted on carrion and picked flesh from rotting severed heads left skewered along the roads.
Nothing had escaped the Urak destruction.
Just as the blend of sorrow and rage had begun to settle in Calen’s stomach, Valerys caught sight of something in the distance: masses of black clouds swirling back and forth along a road that stretched for miles. Calen knew the hill that marked the fork in the road between Talin and Salme. The Oak Road.
Coils of dread slithered in his stomach and through his veins.
Before long, the squawking of crows had drowned out even the beating of the dragons’ wings. The black birds filled the air, swirling around Calen and showing little fear of the three great dragons. It took Calen more than a few heartbeats to look through Valerys’s eyes and see what lay below. Corpses. Hundreds of rotting, mutilated corpses bolted to every tree along the road, the birds picking the strips of decaying flesh.
Calen’s stomach turned, and Valerys’s rage burned so bright Calen could feel it searing his blood. The dragon unleashed a roar like rolling thunder, and Calen had to press himself to Valerys’s scales and pull their minds together to stop him from setting every tree alight. The people of the villages burned their dead from time to time, but they preferred to bury them, to return them to earth, to allow life to grow anew.
Valerys let out another defiant roar, then ripped through the skies, scores of crows too slow to move crashing against his scales and whirling in his wake.
The dragon’s fury was undercut by a fear that shifted between them. Fear of what they might find when they reached Salme.
Plumes of dark smoke came into view, scores of them billowing into the sky, black as onyx. The fear within him only faded when, through Valerys’s eyes, Calen saw purple banners emblazoned with the image of the white dragon flapping in the wind. Some of the smoke came from within the city, but that smoke was grey and dwindling.
A pair of trenches – still half-filled with bodies – and spiked barricades ringed the broken palisade wall. Even further out, Urak bodies were piled high as houses, flames consuming them as more and more were added.
Horns bellowed in the distance. First one, then two, then many.
By the time Valerys, Avandeer, and Varthear alighted a few hundred feet from the closest pile of burning Uraks, a group of riders was already approaching.
Calen slid from Valerys’s back, the dragon bowing low. He scanned the riders through Valerys’s eyes. His heart skipped a beat as he counted Tarmon astride what could only be a Varsundi Blackthorn and again at the sight of Vaeril on the back of a Dvalin Angan. Erik rode with them, and Dahlen Virandr – it had been a long time since Calen had laid eyes on that man. A smile touched his lips at the sight of Atara and Harken jogging alongside the horses. Harken looked to have lost an ear and an eye, but Atara was fresh as a morning rose.
Another man moved alongside them, broad as a mountain, but his long, grey hair and beard covered most of his face.
“That couldn’t be…” Calen whispered, taking a step forwards. “Erdhardt?”
Therin moved to stand beside Calen, worry etched into his eyes. Then Calen realised: he didn’t see Dann or Lyrei. His heart plummeted, his arms and legs feeling as though they’d lost all strength.
The group of riders stopped before them, and even as Tarmon slid from his saddle with all the grace of a drunk donkey, Erdhardt pushed past him and moved straight for Calen.
Before a word was said, before even a whisper had dared leave a lip, Erdhardt crashed into Calen and wrapped his arms around him.
“Calen Bryer,” the man said, pulling away and grabbing the sides of Calen’s face. He held him at a distance, a broad smile on his face.
“You’ve got a few more scars since I last saw you.” Calen hadn’t truly realised how scared he was of discovering who had survived the attack on The Glade until that very moment. He’d also never expected to be quite so happy to see Erdhardt Hammersmith.
“And you’ve got a dragon,” Erdhardt said, suddenly tentative as Valerys loomed over Calen. After a moment, the man looked back at Calen, staring into his eyes as though seeing a ghost. “You look exactly like him.” He shook his head. “Your hair, your face, the way you hold yourself… not your eyes. When did that happen?” Erdhardt just smiled and pulled Calen back into the embrace. “It’s so good to see you, my boy.”
“Calen.”
Calen pulled away from Erdhardt to see Tarmon, Vaeril, and Erik walking towards him.
“I’m sorry,” Calen said, shaking his head. “I should have been here. I tried. The North was?—”
“If you could have been here, you would have been.” Tarmon grabbed the back of Calen’s head and pressed their foreheads together. “You’re alive, and Salme stands. That’s what matters.”
“And you brought friends.” Erik looked up at Varthear and Avandeer, then over to Tivar, who stood at Avandeer’s feet.
Erik pushed Tarmon aside and pulled Calen into an embrace. “You’re always late, aren’t you?”
“Ever since he was a child,” Erdhardt said.
Calen laughed at them both, his eyes falling on Vaeril. The elf’s lips held the subtlest of smiles, and he inclined his head. He grasped Calen’s forearm. “Du sier ithnar, Draleid.”
You look horrible, Draleid.
“Du sier mathon, evalír.”
You look worse, elf.
That weak smile cracked into a laugh, and he pulled Calen close. “Det er aldin na v?na du, Calen.”
It is good to see you, Calen.
“Ar du, akar.”
And you, brother.
Calen pulled away from Vaeril. “Lumís é Dann ar Lyrei?”
The smile vanished from Vaeril’s face, and panic flared within Calen.
“Lumís é’aiar, Vaeril?”
Where are they, Vaeril?
Calen stepped onto the covered porch of the small wooden house nestled into a row of similar structures near Salme’s docks. Both Erdhardt and Therin waited for him at the bottom step. Neither had said a word as Erdhardt had led them through the city, heads turning as Calen walked the streets with his gaze down, white armour marred with dried blood and dirt. Some whispered ‘Warden of Varyn’ or ‘Draleid’, but he didn’t lift his gaze. On a different day, perhaps, but not this day.
He’d thought he’d heard voices call his name– more than once – but when he did look up, he saw no faces he knew.
Calen wrapped his knuckles gently on the wooden door but got no response. After a few more knocks, he entered and found the house empty. When he stepped back out onto the porch, Erdhardt gestured towards the closest dock, where a lone man stood staring at the water.
“Give me a moment,” Calen said to Therin and Erdhardt.
His skin itched, and his feet felt like they were filled with stones as he approached the man. “Tharn?”
Tharn Pimm turned slowly, as though afraid of what he might see. The man’s eyes were bloodshot and ringed with dark circles. His hair was more grey than blond now, and a nasty scar wound from his chin up the right side of his face. “Calen?” He turned fully, looking as though he didn’t truly believe what he saw. Tharn’s lips moved to speak, but instead he just wrapped Calen in his arms and held him like that for a long moment. “You look even more like your father than you did before. I’m sorry for what happened to them, Calen.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“I should have stepped in… I should have done something. I should have stopped it.”
“Then you would have died with them… The past is the past, Tharn, and nothing any of us could have done would have changed anything.” Calen pulled away from Tharn’s embrace. He looked the man in the eye. For his entire life, Tharn Pimm had seemed solid as stone, strong as iron. He had been a man where Calen had been a boy. A lot had changed in the past couple of years. “Are you all right?” He grimaced. “The question seems kind of pointless now that I say it out loud.”
“No, my boy. I am… shattered, like there are pieces of me everywhere wrapped in pieces of her.” Tears welled in Tharn’s eyes. He drew a sharp breath in through his nose and shook his head. “I will be all right. It’ll just take a while to put all those pieces back together again, and I know some will always be missing. But you know all about that.” He gave Calen a tender, sorrow-filled smile. “Dann is out by the woods with Lyrei. He’s not good Calen. You know how he is, always acting like nothing phases him, always trying to be strong for everyone else.”
“I know. The woods to the south?”
Tharn nodded.
The cold winter wind blew in Calen’s face as he walked from the city out towards the small wood that sat just past Salme’s southern edge. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the wind whistle in his ears, hearing the long grass shake. Salme may not have been The Glade, but this place sounded like home.
He spotted Dann and Lyrei sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree.
Lyrei noticed him immediately. She slid from her perch and walked towards him, pressing a hand to her chest and bowing at the waist. “Draleid. Alaith anar.”
Well met.
“Ar du,” Calen responded. And you . He looked past her to where Dann still sat on the trunk. “How is he?”
Lyrei looked into Calen’s eyes, then down at the grass. She stepped closer and rested a hand on Calen’s shoulder, then left without a word.
Calen watched Lyrei as she walked back towards the city. Dann didn’t speak as Calen approached. He didn’t even lift his head. A green cloak was draped over his shoulders, the hood pulled up, casting his face in shadow. A small bird, plump and round with a sharp-looking beak and beady eyes, sat on the other side of the trunk, tilting its head to watch Calen.
Calen stood there in silence, staring out at the city and the thick columns of black smoke still pluming into the air.
“You’re late,” Dann said, his voice barely a whisper.
Calen looked back down at the grass. “I know.”
Dann flicked a rock from his hand into the pile on the ground. “Where were you?”
“I had to fly north.” Calen’s heart felt as though it were cartwheeling, stopping and starting, skipping every second beat, his mouth going dry.
“You had to?” Dann lifted his head just enough for Calen to see his raw red eyes beneath the hood of his cloak.
Calen fought the urge to explain the choice. The explanation didn’t matter. The reason didn’t matter. Dann mattered. Calen had made a promise, and he had broken it. And it was Dann who had paid the cost for that choice, Dann and all the others who’d lost people they loved in the battle for Salme.
“You said you would be here Calen.”
“I know, Dann.”
“Then why weren’t you?” Anger spilled into Dann’s voice. Silence held between them for a few more minutes until Dann slid from the trunk, his feet landing softly. “She’s dead… My mam’s dead, Calen. She was breathing yesterday, and now she’s dead.” He shook his head, staring down at the ground. “You said you would be here… I trusted you… I needed you…”
“I’m sorry, Dann…”
“Sorry won’t bring her back!” Dann rounded on Calen, his hood snapping back. His hair was still tacked with blood and dirt, his face filthy. “If you had been here…” He kept shaking his head and pressing his tongue against his teeth. “If you had been here like you said you would, she might still be alive. But you weren’t, and she’s not.”
The tears flowed freely now, and Calen took a step forwards.
“Don’t,” Dann snapped, raising a finger.
Calen took another step, and Dann rammed his palms into Calen’s breastplate and shoved him backwards.
“I said don’t!” Dann roared. He lifted a shaking hand, extending his index finger. “I… I never…”
Calen took another step, and Dann shoved him again. Once more Calen stepped closer, but this time he brushed Dann’s hand aside as Dann made to shove him for a third time.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” Dann snarled, tears rolling down his cheeks, his hands shaking. “You should have been here!”
Dann threw his fist and smashed it into Calen’s cheek.
Calen staggered backwards, tasting blood on his tongue. In his mind, Valerys roared, but Calen silenced him.
“You’re too good for me now, are you?” Dann’s eyes glistened, tears flowing. Calen had never seen him like this. Dann had always been the one who others looked to. He was like his dad: stoic and resolute. Sure, he always made a joke of things, but when Calen needed him, Dann was always there, reliable as a mountain.
“No,” Calen answered, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Dann.”
“Sorry? Sorry? You have no right to be sorry. All I needed you to be was here !” Dann threw another punch, but Calen slipped beneath it, moved closer, and threw his arms around Dann, squeezing him so tight his arms hurt.
Dann slammed his fists down onto Calen’s shoulders and shoved at his chest. “Get off me! Get the fuck off me!”
The harder Dann struggled, the tighter Calen held him, until eventually Dann went still.
“I never got to say goodbye,” he whispered through sobs, slowly squeezing Calen. “I never got to say goodbye.”
“I know.” Calen drew a slow breath through his nose as he held his friend close, staring blindly at the woods behind them.
“I never got to tell her that I saw Belduar…” He sniffled, snot and tears mashing into the crook of Calen’s neck. “She’d never have believed me.”
“Not for a second,” Calen agreed, giving a short laugh. “But that’s only because you’re always talking shit.”
“Does it ever stop?” Dann broke into sobs again. “Does it ever stop hurting?”
Calen shook his head, not able to find words, his own tears spilling down at the sight of his friend in such pain. “It never goes away – I wouldn’t want it to – but it gets easier… Having you beside me made it easier.” Calen drew a short breath. “Every time it hurts, I try to think of it like a hand on my shoulder. Like my mam or my dad are there, reminding me of all the good things, all the good memories.”
“I miss Alea,” Dann whispered, his tears finding new strength. “I didn’t want to say it because I know Lyrei hurts more, but I miss her. And Baldon… Why… Why does everyone keep dying?”
“I don’t know…” Calen’s mind sifted through all the faces of those they’d lost. From Vars and Freis to Rhett, Falmin, Korik, Lopir… The list was endless, and it was only going to get longer as this war continued. He pulled a sharp breath into his lungs to centre himself. “Pain doesn’t belong to anyone, Dann. Lyrei’s grief is no less because of yours. And your dad’s pain is no less. You loved your mam. You deserve to mourn her.”
Dann clutched Calen tighter and sobbed. “I think she would have been proud of me… I’m not as much of a fuck up now.”
“You were never a fuck up, Dann. And she was always proud of you.” Calen grabbed Dann’s head and pulled his friend in closer. “But you’re right. She really would have been proud. She has a lot to be proud of.”
Calen shifted away from Dann and climbed up to where Dann had been sitting on the fallen tree. He patted a spot beside him.
“Tell me something about her,” Calen said when Dann had joined him.
“You knew her, Calen.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Calen said, shaking his head. “Tell me something.”
“She used to hit me with a wooden spoon.”
“She’s hit me with the same spoon.”
“She did it with love,” Dann said with a laugh, wiping tears from his eyes. “She always ran her finger down the bridge of my nose when I was sick. Really gently, back and forth. I never told her how much I loved that.”
“She’s listening.” Calen wrapped an arm around Dann’s shoulders and pulled him close. “They’re always with us, Dann. Always.”
Hours later, while the sun was setting across the Antigan Ocean, the Blood Moon clear and full in the sky, Calen stood by the water’s edge, a mixture of dirt and wet stones by his feet.
He drew a long, slow breath in and let it out even slower, the gentle lapping of the waves swashing in his ears. He’d not spent much time by the water in his youth, but on the journey from Drifaien to Kingspass, aboard The Enchantress, Calen had learned to appreciate the beauty of the sunset across the open water. There was something serene about the way the warm orange glow sparkled silver across the ever-shifting waves.
Calen ran his thumb over the smooth stone in the palm of his hand, a brittle smile on his lips. Vars had made a point of always taking Calen to the water whenever they visited Milltown or Salme. They would skim stones for hours and talk about nothing in particular and everything at the same time. Whoever made their stone hop the most got to ride Drifter on the journey back to The Glade. Calen missed the horse. He hoped that someone in Milltown had found him and treated him well, maybe he was even somewhere in Salme at that very moment. He knew the odds were that Drifter lay dead in the ruins of Milltown, butchered by the Uraks, but ignorance hurt less.
He turned his wrist, angling the stone, then flicked it out over the water, watching as it skipped six times then sank.
“Not flat enough.” Dahlen Virandr appeared at Calen’s side, a heavy wolfpineskin cloak draped over his shoulders. He stared past Calen and out at the water, then dropped to his haunches and scanned the stones that littered the ground, eventually settling on one just under the size of his palm and smooth on all sides. Calen smiled as he heard his father’s voice in his mind. “Now that’s a mighty fine stone.”
Dahlen drew a long breath, stepped forwards with his left leg, and launched the stone. It skipped nine times, catching the crest of a wave on the tenth and sinking.
He leaned down once more, selected another stone, and offered it to Calen.
Calen took it into his hand, brushing his thumb against edges so smooth they were almost polished. He gave Dahlen a half-smile and a nod of thanks before loosing the stone.
“Eleven,” Dahlen said with a downturn of his lip. “I’ve never gotten more than ten, usually less than five or six. Erik’s lucky if it doesn’t just sink.”
“My dad held the record. Twenty-seven times. He always rode the horse back.”
“What?”
“Nothing, sorry…” Calen plucked another stone from the ground and launched it. Five skips. “Thank you. For everything you’ve done here. Erdhardt told me this place would be gone if you and the others hadn’t arrived when you did.”
Dahlen only gave him a nod, throwing another stone. Seven skips.
They continued like that without talking for a few minutes. Calen didn’t think he’d ever spent as much time alone with Dahlen. “I was?—”
“I didn’t?—”
They smiled awkwardly at each other.
“After you,” Calen said, gesturing for Dahlen to speak.
Dahlen ran his thumb absently over the surface of the stone in his hand. “I was jealous of you… I had trained my entire life for the moment we would find an egg. Every morning, every night, I trained… to be everything my father wanted, everything he needed. And then you appeared, and the egg hatched. You didn’t even want it.” He shook his head, still rubbing his thumb over the stone. “You cared nothing about the rebellion I had spent my life bleeding for. That my brother, my father, and I had sacrificed everything to build. I was jealous, I blamed you, and I hated you…”
Dahlen looked up towards the sky, biting his top lip. He threw the stone. Twelve skips.
“A new record,” Calen said in a half-whisper, staring out at the setting sun.
“That was until I realised what it was we took from you.” Dahlen grabbed at the back of his neck. “The people of this place, the way they fight for each other… the way they pull together. I’ve never had anything like that outside of Erik and my father. The night we met you, that was taken away from you. And I see now why you wanted it back so badly. I see a lot of things I never did before.”
“Like what?”
“That my father is a man and not some godlike hero of legend to be followed without question. He is a man with many flaws, who has made a thousand mistakes and will make a thousand more. And that still, to me, he is the greatest man who has ever lived. He has fought and lost and sacrificed for four hundred years, and he has never stopped. No matter what this world did to him or the people he loved, he always stood back up. I have seen twenty-four summers, and already I am tired and weary. I could not do what he has done, nor would I want to.”
Dahlen grabbed another stone and squeezed it in his palm before looking into Calen’s eyes. “All this is to say I was a man stuck in my father’s shadow, trying desperately to be what he needed and blaming you because I wasn’t. And I’m sorry for it. My father always taught me that a man holds himself accountable for his wrongs. It’s about time I listened.”
“I was wrong to blame you for Rist – since we’re sharing.” The laugh that touched Calen’s lips never reached his heart. Rist’s name alone saw to that. “I was more angry at myself than you. I left him. I should never have left him. Not because I didn’t trust you, but because people of The Glade don’t leave each other. If we’d stayed together that night, maybe everything would be different.”
“Or maybe we’d all be dead.” Dahlen scanned the ground and grabbed another smooth rock, passing it to Calen. “That’s a good one.”
Calen wound back his arm and let his anger at himself flow through him. Three skips and a squawk later and a terrified gull was flapping into the evening sky.
Dahlen watched the bird’s flight. “The words ‘if’ and ‘should have’ can tear you apart quicker than any blade. You were a fucking arsehole that night. But I understand. If that had been Erik, I would’ve been the same.”
“If what had been me?”
Calen turned to see Erik, Tarmon, and Vaeril approaching down the dirt track that led to the water.
Tarmon grasped Calen’s forearm. “Queen Tessara invites us to eat with her this evening.” He paused for a second. “The elves fought bravely and lost many in the battle for the city.”
Calen nodded, letting out a short sigh. “Lead the way.”
“Dann?” Erik asked.
“He’s with Lyrei. He needs time.”
Erik held Calen’s gaze.
“He’s not all right,” Calen said, resting a hand on Erik’s shoulder. “But he will be.”
Dann sat on the first step below the porch of the place he supposed was now home. He could hear Lyrei and his dad laughing inside as they swapped stories and spent far too long cooking stew. Tharn had never been the cook; it had always been Ylinda. Lyrei wasn’t much better, but she was trying, and she was making Tharn smile, which was all that mattered. In fact, Dann didn’t think he’d heard Lyrei laugh so hard since the day he’d met her… which only made him worry about the stories his dad was telling.
He let out a long sigh and took a sip from the cup in his hand. Just the smell of the ale from The Rusty Shell made him appreciate the taste of Lasch’s mead.
He’d wanted to find Calen, to apologise, but he simply didn’t have it in him. Not that night. Better to say it with a sunrise at his back. Dann knew the weight of words, and he should never have put his mam’s death on Calen. Calen dwelled on those kinds of things, let them chew him from the inside. He always had. “Why am I such a fucking idiot?”
“Don’t be too harsh on yourself,” Therin said, approaching the porch. “You’re an idiot, but only from time to time.”
“Where did you come from?”
“I’m always somewhere, watching,” Therin said, taking a seat on the step beside Dann.
“That’s creepy, Therin. You shouldn’t be watching people like that.” He sipped at his ale. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you’ve referred to me as ‘the physical manifestation of a headache’.”
“Did I say that out loud?”
“More than once.”
Therin smiled, then narrowed his eyes. “Is that a weka?”
Dann lifted his head, then followed Therin’s gaze to where the weka sat next to a low bush with a sock in its beak. “I call him Tom. He’s a right little bastard.”
“What is a weka doing all the way out here? Wait, Tom? Why Tom?”
Dann shrugged. “He looks like a Tom. Nala’s horse is called Maria, so why not?”
For a moment Therin looked as though he were going to challenge Dann, then made a face that said he thought better of it. “I’ll not stay long. I just wanted to tell you something.”
“What?”
“Elves don’t ride horses because we believe that to carry someone, to bear their weight, is one of the greatest burdens one soul can place on another. It requires a deep, trusting bond. As an ambassador to The Order, I spent much time outside of elven lands, outside of elven culture. I had to adapt. I ride horses, but infrequently and only those I have bonded with. I rode Vaen for almost thirty years. He died in the battle for Aravell – crushed by falling rocks.”
“Therin…”
The elf shook his head. “The name Alea gave your horse – Drunir – it was a lesson. ‘Companion’.” Therin rested his hand on Dann’s knee, squeezing. “We never truly lose the ones we love. They stay with us in everything we do. Those who affect us so deeply leave imprints that cannot be removed. We are who we are because of who we’ve loved and who we’ve lost – those things we do not decide. So never be afraid. Live boldly, love fiercely, and forgive quickly. Life is too short for anything else.”
Therin squeezed Dann’s knee one more time before standing while Dann sat with tears rolling down his cheeks.
As he turned to leave, Therin looked down at Dann. “And Dann.”
Dann rubbed the heel of his hand into his eye. “What?”
“Elves can’t grow beards, nor chest hair. But we do have hair beneath our arm pits and, some of us, on our feet – though most shave that off.”
A laugh cracked through the pain in Dann’s heart as Therin walked away and vanished over the lip in the land that led to the docks.
Wooden boards creaked as Lyrei sat down beside Dann. “Was that Therin?” She leaned closer. “Dann, what’s wrong?”
Dann shook his head and wiped the tears from his eyes with his sleeve. “I just found out that elves can’t grow beards,” he said, laughing. “It’s beautiful.”
“Dann…” Lyrei let out a long sigh, setting her cup of mead in the dirt. “It’s all right to hurt. You don’t?—”
“I know.” He set his cup down beside Lyrei’s, then turned to face her.
Lyrei narrowed her gaze, staring into his eyes. She pulled away at first as he cupped her hands in his, but then she held them in place, wrapping her fingers around the sides of his hands.
“I miss Alea, and I miss Baldon and Rist, and every time I think of my mam…” He paused for a moment, trying to stop the tears so he could speak. “Every time I think of her, I just feel empty.”
Lyrei pulled a hand away and brushed the tears from his cheeks. “I miss them too.”
Dann looked into Lyrei’s golden eyes and remembered how awestruck he’d been the first time he’d seen them. He reached up, cautiously, and traced her cheekbone with his fingers, his pulse quickening when she didn’t pull away. “Without you…”
“You’d still be alive,” Lyrei said.
“But the world would be a lot darker.”
Lyrei smiled. “So much darker. My people, they have a name for what you are, Dann.”
“Arsehole?” Dann started to laugh at his joke but stopped when Lyrei didn’t join him.
“Ayar Elwyn.” A slight tremble ran through Lyrei’s lips as she spoke the words.
“I don’t speak elf,” Dann whispered, wiping tears away, smiling.
“One Heart,” she said, slapping his hand. “It is a word for when you realise you have found a soul whose heart is cracked in all the right ways that fit yours. They fill the gaps in you and you in them. They are the light that stops the world from going dark. Simply by being, they make you whole. It’s not a thing that is earned, it’s just something that is . Though it’s not always easy to see. You have the purest heart of any soul I’ve ever known. You are gentle and kind and sweet, and still you are brave and strong, and you never let anyone suffer alone. You carry others, Dann.”
“Are you calling me a horse? Because Therin explained that too.”
“My Ayar Elwyn, whether I like it or not.” Tears rolled slowly down Lyrei’s cheeks, and she brushed her thumb through Dann’s hair.
Dann stared into those golden eyes. “Ayar Elwyn.”
Lyrei nodded and pressed her forehead to Dann’s. In that moment, Dann understood completely. He took Lyrei’s cheek in hand, lifted her head, and kissed her. His heartbeat slowed, and the world grew less empty as Lyrei’s lips pressed against his and her fingers wrapped around the back of his neck.
“Commander Sureheart?”
Dann almost leapt from his skin, pulling away from Lyrei to see Nala standing in the house’s doorway. “Sweet fucking Varyn, Nala. I forgot you were even here.”
“I’ve been here all day,” Nala said with a face of disbelief, looking a little deflated.
Dann let out a long, exasperated sigh that quickly turned to a laugh as he pressed his forehead to Lyrei’s. “What is it, Nala?”
“Stew’s ready.” The squire all but pranced back inside to where her younger brother was helping Tharn with the stew.
Lyrei laughed, kissed Dann’s forehead, then stood and followed Nala inside. As Dann lifted himself from the step, he looked down to see Tom the weka with his beak in Dann’s cup of ale. “Get your filthy—you know what? Drink. With any luck, I’ll find you passed out in a ditch tomorrow. Then you’ll know what it feels like.”
Dann paused in the doorway, letting himself linger over the sight of Lyrei helping his father dish the stew into bowls while Nala placed a spoon in each. He pulled a long, sad breath into his lungs and whispered, “You would have loved her, Mam. I’m sorry I wasn’t here in time.”