19. Kailin
KAILIN
The last morning can never be long enough. It passes in minutes that feel like seconds, leaving me feeling empty and alone.
—From the journal of Kailin Strom
Ileaned against my desk, arms crossed over my chest, and looked at the bedroom I'd shared with Alar for the past few weeks.
He was still there, sitting on the edge of the bed and lacing his boots, but there was already a void in the space he used to occupy.
His side of the wardrobe was empty, the short stack of tactical manuals he'd kept on his nightstand was gone, and the light flight jacket that had hung on the back of the door because it wasn't insulated enough for the weather that had turned colder had been folded into his rucksack.
We didn't know whether he was allowed to take his uniform with him to Catonia, but no one had told him otherwise, so he had assumed it was okay. Worst-case scenario, it would be confiscated when they checked his pack.
Alar's scent was still on everything. The pillow, the blankets, the half-empty wardrobe, the air. But his scent would fade within days, and then this room would be just a room, and the bed would be just a bed, which I would be sleeping in alone from now on.
To say that my heart was heavy was an understatement. I could barely pull a breath into my lungs, but I had to pretend that I was okay for Alar's sake.
Leaving was tearing him apart.
On top of the pain of leaving me, he was also suffering from separating from Veynathei, and he was feeling guilty as if any of this was his fault because he was the one going away.
But it wasn't his fault. He was a victim of circumstance, powerless in the face of a destiny that had other plans for him than the ones he had for himself.
"Breakfast should be ready by now." Alar hefted the rucksack, the straps biting into his jacket, the weight making him adjust his stance. "We should join the others."
"Not yet," I said, desperately clinging to these last moments we had.
He crossed the room and took my hand, his fingers warm and steady, his grip firm without being tight. "Let's not drag this out," he said gently. "It only makes it harder."
I nodded because he was right, and because if I opened my mouth to speak, I was going to cry, and I'd promised myself I wouldn't. Not until he was gone and I could fall apart without causing him more pain.
Morek had gotten up before dawn to prepare a farewell breakfast for Alar. He'd probably just improved on the standard delivery by adding spices, making it more flavorful, but I appreciated the effort.
He didn't need to do this, but he did, for Alar and for the rest of us.
When we got to the living room, everyone was already seated around the table, and the food was arranged with the kind of care that Morek normally didn't bother with.
There was fresh bread, sliced and toasted, scrambled eggs with added spices and herbs, fried cubed potatoes, and cured meat, thinly sliced.
A pot of caff was producing an aroma so strong that it could wake the dead.
Codric was slumped in his chair, his hands wrapped around a cup of caff that he wasn't drinking, and his usual jovial attitude was nowhere to be found. He looked diminished, somehow, as if Alar's impending departure had already torn a large piece out of him.
Shovia's hand rested on his forearm, and as her eyes met mine, they conveyed more compassion and understanding than she could ever express in words.
Morek stood at the kitchen counter, plating the last of the eggs. "Take a seat and eat," he said. "No one leaves this apartment with an empty stomach."
"Your father's rule?" Alar managed a half smile as he set his rucksack by the door and pulled out a chair for me.
"My rule." Morek set the plates down.
We ate, or at least we tried to. The food was good, better than anything the officers' mess normally produced, but I could barely taste it. I pushed eggs around my plate, nibbled on a piece of toast, and drank the strong caff without bothering to add sugar to it.
I couldn't stomach anything sweet when my life was so bitter.
The conversation was the kind that people made when they were avoiding the only subject that mattered.
Morek talked about Korthax's shenanigans, Shovia asked no one in particular if we were aware of the change in the afternoon solo flight schedule, and Codric said nothing.
He just sat and drank his caff and looked at Alar with an expression that made me want to leave the room and take Shovia and Morek with me so the cousins could have a private moment.
A knock on the door shattered the fragile pretense of normalcy.
Morek got up and checked who it was through the peephole. "It's Shaman Saphir and Commander Ravel," he announced before opening the door.
My stomach dropped.
Ravel probably wasn't here to say goodbye to Alar but to escort him to Skywatcher's Point, which meant that I wouldn't have an opportunity for a proper kiss goodbye and last words of love with Alar. Our farewell would be witnessed by the shaman, the commander, and everyone else in this room.
I hated that.
"Good morning," Saphir said, surveying the breakfast table with an approving expression. "I see that Morek's culinary skills continue to improve."
"Shaman Saphir." Alar rose to his feet. "Commander."
Ravel nodded to Alar, then his dark eyes swept the room in that assessing way of his, cataloging everything and everyone. When his gaze passed over me, it lingered for a little longer before moving on.
"I have something for you," Saphir said, reaching into the folds of his robe and producing a sealed envelope. The paper was heavy, the kind used for official correspondence, and the seal pressed into the dark blue wax bore the shaman's mark. "A letter to your father."
Alar took the envelope and examined the seal. "What does it say, if I may ask?"
Saphir's expression held that familiar twinkle, the one that suggested he knew more than he was sharing and found his own omniscience amusing. "A few things your father should know that may help you find your way back to us. Or they may not. But they can't hurt."
"Thank you, Shaman." Alar tucked the letter into the inner pocket of his jacket.
Saphir nodded. "We are going to deliver you to your father with all the pomp and circumstance befitting a prince, but in secret. That's why Commander Ravel is here. He will explain the travel arrangements."
I didn't know how it was possible to do both at the same time.
"I will fly you directly to the port of entry hub in Podana," Ravel said. "I will take a flight to provide the escort."
Alar frowned. "I thought I'd be taken to Skywatcher's Point and that an Elucian ground forces unit would escort me from there."
"There's been a change of plans. We don't want to advertise your departure, and we are not taking any chances with your safety, especially given the political sensitivity of the transfer.
We'll fly you directly to the hub in Podana, where the ground forces unit will be waiting to accompany you in the cable car.
They will secure an entire car for the descent, so there will be no other passengers.
They'll guard you until the transfer to the Elurian unit waiting outside the port. "
I was trying to visualize the logistics, and even though I saw the logic of it regarding Alar's safety, I failed to see how it kept his identity a secret.
A guy arriving with a flight of dragon riders and then escorted by an entire ground forces unit down to the depot below would attract much more attention than a lone Elurian merchant using civilian transport.
Alar grimaced. "I feel like a package."
"You are a package," Ravel said without a trace of humor. "A very valuable, diplomatically sensitive package that I intend to deliver intact."
Despite my misgivings regarding the confidentiality of the transfer, I was glad for every layer of protection between Alar and whatever dangers lurked between here and Catonia.
Saphir clapped his hands together. "Well then. If you've finished your breakfast, we should not delay. The flight is assembled on the roof."
Alar looked around the table at each of us. Morek, who had stopped pretending to be busy at the counter and was standing with his arms crossed and his jaw tight. Shovia, whose hand had tightened on Codric's arm. Codric, who finally met his cousin's eyes and held them.
After leaving the table, Alar walked up to Ravel. "Can I have a few moments to say goodbye to the rest of my quintet?"
Ravel nodded. "I'll be waiting for you on the roof. Take as long as you need."
That was so nice of him that I could've hugged him.
"Thank you, Commander," Alar said.
Saphir surprised us all by pulling Alar into a tight embrace. "You'll be back, Prince Alaranthus. I have no doubt of that." He let go of Alar and turned to Ravel. "Let's go and give these youngsters time to say goodbye properly."
I wanted to stop them and ask if I could accompany Alar to the roof of the Citadel, but they were out the door before I gathered the nerve. Besides, Alar was right. Dragging it out was only making it worse.
"I'll write," Alar said. "And I'll find a way back. I promise."
Codric stood and crossed the room in three strides. The embrace between the cousins was brief, fierce, and seemed to convey an entire conversation.
"Don't let them make you into a proper prince and undo all of my efforts to turn you into a scoundrel," Codric said, attempting humor.
"I'll try."
Morek was next. He grabbed Alar's hand and pulled him into a rough hug, clapping his back hard enough to make Alar grunt. "Take care of yourself and come back as soon as you can."
"I'll do my best."
Shovia stepped forward and hugged Alar without any of her usual prickliness, holding him for a moment longer. "I'm still mad at you for hiding who you are, but I forgive you. Come back safe."
"I will."
Then the three of them walked away, leaving the two of us alone.
Alar took both my hands in his and brought them to his lips, kissing my knuckles.
"I love you," he said.
"I love you too." My voice held. I was proud of that. "Write to me."
"Every day."
"Be safe."
"I will." He pulled me into a crushing hug. "Try not to dream of me."
I chuckled through tears. "I'll try to dream only good things about you."