Chapter 18
Eiri
Yesterday’s storm still raged the following morning, with no end in sight.
Eiri woke to the rapid tapping of heavy raindrops against the spelled glass window and the howling wind as it whipped around the towers of the palace.
The sun lay buried behind thick, dark gray clouds, and from here, he could watch wild waves pounding the docks.
Only the most foolhardy mainland captains would set out in this weather and all had battened down to wait it out.
If he were back home, though, every single boat and skiff would be out on the water. A storm almost always guaranteed a big catch, and the holds would be bulging with fish. A storm like this was a good omen in Canjir. It meant everyone would eat today.
Eiri wrapped himself in one of the dressing robes he’d found in the wardrobe, trying not to focus on the knowledge that it belonged to Syrus.
It was far too big on him, nearly wrapping twice around his frame, but fell a few inches too short, brushing his calves.
The storm brought a chill with it, but fussing with the fireplace didn’t seem worth the time.
He settled on a cushioned seat built into the wall near the window, perfect for curling up and watching the rain.
Once settled, he pulled his knees up to his chest, and the extra material of the robe served almost like a blanket, keeping his bare feet warm.
If he were anywhere else, this would be the perfect place to relax on mornings like this.
He was still in Lodie, though, and his thoughts were as chaotic as the wind-whipped waves.
His afternoon with Syrus kept circling in his mind, bits and pieces coming back in an endless loop.
The sneer on the carriage driver’s face and the way Syrus sent her away for her disrespect.
The smell of spoiled meat and the burn of Syrus’ fury, for once not directed at him.
The feel of his magic curling through him, familiar and comforting, when the ocean lapped around his feet.
The startling warmth twisting in his stomach when Syrus smiled at him.
“Stop thinking about it,” he groaned, letting his head fall back against the stone behind him.
Scolding himself did nothing, of course. He couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened, either, and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to. Maybe… maybe Syrus truly meant what he’d said? Maybe he really wanted to make this work. Could he trust it, though?
It surprised him how much he wanted to. Somehow, in the span of an afternoon, he’d gone from hating everything about Syrus to whatever they were now. Allies? Friends? He never would have imagined he’d be sitting in a palace while trying to decide if he could be friends with the man he’d married.
More than anything, he desperately wished he had someone to talk to.
Eiri knew he couldn’t be objective about this, and he had no one he could turn to who could help.
Back home, he would have talked to Akari, or perhaps Laire, the only friend who’d stood by him when the old king called for his head.
Probably both, as Akari always wanted to see the good in people, while Laire was even more cynical than Eiri.
Here, though, he only had Kien, and he hadn’t seen the older man since their fight. He had a feeling Kien wouldn’t bother with him again unless Eiri either apologized or there was some sort of life-threatening emergency. Stubborn pride seemed to be an inherent trait among the Canjir.
How could everything change so much in a single day? When he’d arrived, Kien was his only ally and Syrus was the ultimate enemy. Now, he somehow found himself at odds with Kien and considering making peace with his husband, the man he’d assumed he would hate to his dying day.
The wailing storm echoed the turmoil inside him as he wrestled with what path he needed to take.
He was so caught up in his brooding that he almost missed the knock at the door.
For a moment, he thought it was a rumble of thunder, then it came again.
He considered ignoring it, but it could only be one of two people, and while he couldn’t decide if he actually wanted to see either of them, it was better than sitting here alone, letting his thoughts consume him.
He opened the door to find Syrus on the other side, a tray in his hands.
“Good morning,” Syrus rumbled, his voice a little deeper than usual, like he’d only just recently woken up. His dark eyes swept over Eiri in a quick glance, and Eiri abruptly remembered he was wearing the man’s dressing robe. Too late to do anything about it now, though.
“Good morning.” He stepped aside to let him in, closing the door behind him. “You’re up early.”
“I couldn’t sleep. The thunder kept waking me up, so I decided to get an early breakfast.” Syrus set the tray on the small table near the windows and Eiri caught a whiff of something delectable from beneath the cover.
“I wasn’t sure if you were awake, but I assumed if you were, you probably hadn’t eaten yet.
I thought we could have breakfast together? ”
“I wouldn’t mind that,” Eiri admitted quietly, wrapping the folds of the robe a little closer around himself. “Especially if you save me some of whatever smells so good under there.”
Syrus grinned, lifting the cover to reveal a small feast. Fluffy eggs and toasted bread sat alongside fruit and thin strips of crispy, greasy meat. A small, steaming pot of what smelled like tea and two cups rounded out the breakfast tray.
“You said yesterday that pork was rare on the island, so I wasn’t sure if you’d ever had bacon before,” Syrus said, picking up one strip of meat and offering it to Eiri.
Just a few days ago, he never would have even considered eating anything the other man offered him.
Now, he only hesitated for a moment before accepting it and taking a bite, nearly moaning as the flavor burst across his tongue.
“I haven’t, but now I think I’m going to need it every morning.” He finished the slice in another bite, eating it quickly despite wanting to savor it. The bacon was perfectly crispy, almost charred in a few places, the slightly bitter taste somehow making it even better.
“I think we can make that happen,” Syrus said with an easy smile.
He filled a plate for himself, but he left the bulk of the food for Eiri, not that he was complaining.
After missing dinner last night and lunch yesterday, it’d been nearly a full day since he’d eaten.
Hunger was nothing new to him, but it was never a comfortable feeling, and he wouldn’t turn down food.
Eiri set to clearing his plate and they ate in surprisingly companionable silence. Only when the last crumb was gone and the teapot was empty did he settle back into his chair with a low groan.
“Thank you for bringing breakfast,” he finally said.
The look of surprise on Syrus’ face was worth offering the gratitude.
He still wasn’t entirely convinced this wasn’t some new ploy to wear him down, but like Syrus, he was tired of fighting.
If it ended badly, he’d deal with the consequences of his actions when the time came.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Syrus said as he got comfortable, too.
“So, I suppose there won’t be any trips to the beach today?”
He chuckled. “Not in this weather. It doesn’t look like it’s going to clear up anytime soon, so we’ll have to find other ways to pass the time.”
“If you have any ideas, I’m open to suggestions. So far, I’ve spent my time staring at the walls of this room, bathing more than is strictly necessary, and trying to figure out ways to break through the warding on your windows.”
“Do I want to know why you were trying to break the wards?” Syrus asked, but without the heavy suspicion Eiri assumed he’d get.
“I was very, very bored when I was locked in here. It got to the point that risking a broken leg seemed to be the better of my options.”
Syrus actually winced a little. “I shouldn’t have done that. I handled that argument completely wrong.” He hesitated a moment, dark eyes dropping to Eiri’s hands. “How are your wrists?”
“Honestly, I’d forgotten about them.” Eiri held up his hands, shaking back the oversized sleeves of the dressing robe. The bruises were more vivid today, dark blue and yellow, standing out against his fair skin. “They don’t hurt, so don’t trouble yourself about it.”
“I’m going to, no matter what you say. There’s no excuse for me to have put hands on my spouse, no matter how we feel about each other or the circumstances of our marriage.”
Eiri arched an eyebrow. “You’re actually upset about this?”
“Of course I am. I’m a soldier with combat training. I could have seriously hurt you.”
He didn’t mean to laugh. He tried to hold it in, but a snort escaped anyway.
Shaking his head, he waved off what would likely be something righteously indignant from Syrus.
“I’m not laughing at you, I promise. Don’t forget that I have training, too.
If anyone should apologize, it’s me.” That killed his amusement rather quickly. “How’s your arm, by the way?”
Syrus rolled up his sleeve, revealing a layer of bandaging around his forearm. “It’s healing. Xan helped me clean it up.”
“I’m sorry, Syrus.” A small part of him couldn’t believe he was saying those words to a man who’d been his enemy for so many years, but he was honorable enough to know that they needed to be said.
“It’s fine. I’ve had far worse on the battlefield.”
“That’s different,” he protested. “I attacked you while your guard was down, in your own bedroom, with a weapon I stole from you. That was as cowardly and dishonorable as it gets. My life wasn’t in danger, so there was no excuse. I’m sorry.”
Syrus was quiet for a long moment, studying Eiri. It took a real effort not to get defensive under that man’s scrutiny, and he was nearly squirming in his seat by the time Syrus spoke again.
“Apology accepted, if you accept mine.”