Chapter One #3
(How could Cormal ever forget? Memories of the man were everywhere, and he couldn’t just tear them down and start over.
Not even if he wanted to. And he didn’t—How could he simply dismiss almost twenty years of friendship and caring?
Even if Brannal was willing to so easily abandon him, that didn’t mean that Cormal was ready to do the same.)
Molun pushed himself to his feet, pain flashing across his face, making his skin look more washed out than normal.
“The doctor is keeping you supplied with tonic and salve?” Cormal asked.
“I can do the job,” Molun said stiffly, pulling himself straighter.
“That’s not what I said,” Cormal snapped, hearing the irritation in his voice and helpless to stop it.
“Is there anything else?” Molun asked tightly.
Cormal pressed his lips together and then managed to say, “No, that’s all.”
“I’ll take the reports to Onadal.” Molun held out his hand for them.
Cormal imagined him clasping all the reports and using that cane at the same time.
“I can do it,” he offered.
Molun just stared at him, and Cormal felt his face heat as he remembered. Molun or Delana were always the ones who took the reports to Onadal, because the Captain of the Warriors had made it extremely plain what he thought of someone who would falsify a report.
“If you worked under me,” Onadal had said straight to his face, “you wouldn’t be here anymore.”
Cormal had been backed by the Queen. They’d chosen a course of action, and Cormal had executed it.
He tried to hold onto that certainty, but every judgmental stare from the Captain of the Warriors, the knowledge that the man wished he wasn’t there…
It stung. Cormal was the one in the right here, he was sure that he was, and yet…
Cormal had reluctantly agreed that it was the better part of valor not to push the other man right now.
The last thing Cormal needed was for someone else to resign.
Losing Brannal had been a palpable blow.
Nisal leaving had certainly not helped. Molun injured hadn’t assisted anything.
Gribon had resigned, as well, though it was likely Onadal would have dismissed him otherwise for his part in what had happened to Perian.
Cormal had defended him, had offered to go to the Queen to explain how Gribon had assisted Cormal, but the man had told him not to with a look that was very nearly like loathing, and then he’d resigned, stating that he thought it best if he not work in the castle anymore.
Cormal hated everything some days—the whole castle that he was supposed to be protecting.
It hadn’t seemed so complicated when he’d been Secundus.
(When Brannal had been in charge?)
Cormal handed the reports over to Molun, who tucked them tightly under his arm and then made his way cautiously out of the room, the limp pronounced.
It hurt to watch him, and Cormal had to wonder if being Secundus was actually a role Molun would be able to maintain.
Was his leg going to heal enough that he could fight again?
It didn’t seem likely that he was going to be able to go up against lesser demons, and Mage Warriors needed to be fast against wraiths and nightmares, too.
Carnalions were their own horror, but physical speed wasn’t necessarily an advantage.
If only Cormal had worked everything out earlier.
If Perian hadn’t had the chance to seduce so many people, could this all have been avoided?
Would Molun be whole and healthy right now?
But here they were, in this reality that Cormal hadn’t wanted but needed to do his best in anyway.
He would keep an eye on Molun and make sure he couldn’t harm himself.
He’d always been impetuous, but Arvus was usually good at ensuring he didn’t behave too foolishly.
If they stayed in the castle through the winter, perhaps everything would look better in the spring.
Cormal could be the one to do the winter inspection, even if he hated inspecting in the cold weather.
He’d make sure to assign Molun duties that he could physically handle, but he wouldn’t say that was what he was doing.
That way, he wouldn’t offend Molun’s pride.
Cormal did understand how frustrating it was to have people treat you like there was something wrong with you.
It was rare but not unheard of for a Mage Warrior to remain on castle duty when they were older or injured. It was far more likely that they would retire, settle somewhere on their own or head off to the Great Library to work there as a Mage.
But Cormal knew without asking that if that happened, they would lose Arvus, too, and the last thing the castle needed right now was to lose more Mage Warriors.
“We ceased to be friends the moment you kidnapped the man I love from outside my room in the middle of the night.”
Almost twenty years of friendship, and Brannal had thrown it away for a demon. What did that say about his relationship with Cormal, about how much Brannal had valued him?
Cormal drew a deep breath, swallowed around a thick throat, and resolutely opened his eyes. He rose from his desk and reminded himself that those feelings couldn’t matter. Brannal had abandoned him, but nothing was more important than ensuring that everyone at the castle was protected.
Cormal would go and inspect the Mage Warriors and see how training was going. No matter what else happened, they always needed to train.
If the last two months had taught Cormal anything, it was that they needed to be ready for anything.