Chapter 13 #2
Farrin shook her head. “You’ll need a lot more than that if searching the Mistlands turns up nothing and we have to expand the search to, well, everywhere else.”
“Oh, of course,” Gareth said. “If these first stations are successful, we’re hoping the royal councils and the Senate will approve funding for many, many more, a far greater number than we could create alone.
” He paused and raised his cup to Farrin with a cheeky grin.
“And on that note, Farrin, may I tell you how positively radiant you look in the firelight this evening?”
Farrin, who was combing through her golden-brown hair with her fingers, stifled a smile. “Are you prepared to lavish that kind of flattery upon every councilperson in Fairhaven? I won’t be the problem. They will.”
“Not if we bring them results. They can’t argue with success.”
Ryder laughed. “You’ve been at Rosewarren too long. Some of the people in that godsdamned city seem set on doing nothing but arguing with success.”
“Surely war is a convincing enough reason for them to agree,” Talan said. “Once the anchors are destroyed, Kilraith’s reach will collapse.”
Suddenly I couldn’t keep quiet any longer. If I did, I would combust, and the lack of control I had over the emotions raging inside me was infuriating. Even though he was several feet away from me, every move Gareth made, every breath he took pressed against me like a lover’s touch.
“We think his reach will collapse,” I said.
“So much of this is conjecture. We don’t know where Kilraith is, or who his allies are, or what other spellwork besides the ytheliad he may be using.
We could destroy all the anchors and then learn that, oh, actually, Kilraith has five more ancient curses at his disposal. ”
Gareth clucked his tongue. “Come now, Mara, that sort of fatalistic thinking isn’t very productive.”
His condescension made me bristle. I made myself face him and kept my expression stony. “While professors and librarians may be keen to ignore reality in favor of the theoretical,” I said, “soldiers have to consider every scenario so they can prepare contingency plans.”
“Certainly, and of course we all know what a fantastic soldier you are.” His words had a bite to them.
He set his empty cup on the floor and leaned forward a little, chin in hand, as if we were engaged in the most stimulating of intellectual discussions.
“But why worry about curses that may exist before you actually know they exist?”
“It isn’t worrying,” I replied. “It’s forethought. A concept with which you may not be familiar.”
Gemma cleared her throat and began to speak before Gareth could reply. “Farrin, could you convince a few of the more recalcitrant people on the councils to stay at Rosewarren for a while? Maybe observing the librarians’ work firsthand would help loosen their purse strings.”
I scoffed. “The last thing we need is more southern city folk crowding Rosewarren and draining our resources.”
Gareth, his gaze still fixed on me, hummed thoughtfully. “Yes, and I wouldn’t want to subject more of those poor southern city folk to the priory’s harsh environment. So close to the dangers of the Mist and populated by so many short tempers.”
“I do not have a short temper,” I snapped.
Gareth sat up, his expression guileless. “I was speaking in the most general of terms.”
“Enough bickering,” Ryder said gruffly. “I’m tired, and the wine, very sadly, is gone.”
“What’s going on with the two of you?” Talan asked, his expression one of deep concern, as if we were squabbling children and he a patient, slightly annoyed parent. And the worst part was, I couldn’t blame him.
I rose and went to the table to discard my empty cup. “Nothing’s going on. I’m afraid the transition from academia to actual service has been quite a shock for Gareth. He doesn’t have the constitution for it.”
“In fact, I do,” Gareth said, “and realizing that frightens you.”
With a laugh, I turned to face him. “Frightens me?”
Gareth was serious now, his false smile gone. “Yes, because it means your insults have no basis in reality, so you’ll eventually have to confront the real reason for this misdirected anger of yours.”
“Whose reality are you talking about, Gareth?” I was past pride now, past our thorny gamesmanship.
I squatted in front of him, his face mere inches from my own.
“Your reality? Or mine? Because my reality is leading soldiers into mortal danger every time I leave the priory. Watching people burn and bleed out because of commands I’ve given.
Wondering what each new day will bring—a breach in the Mistline and all the rampant destruction that comes with that?
An invasion of Olden hostiles finally making it past our defenses and tearing Rosewarren to pieces?
My friends not returning from their nightly patrols?
The Mist breaching all its borders and flooding the entire continent because I wasn’t strong enough to hold it back nor clever enough to repair it? ”
I paused, my whole body tingling from anger, from the instinct to fight, from Gareth’s awful, exhilarating nearness. “What is your reality, Gareth? Please do tell me.”
For a long moment, Gareth said nothing. He simply watched me, his green eyes flitting all over my face as if searching for something elusive.
“To answer your question, Gemma,” he said at last, slowly, quietly, “as you can see, your sister and I have grown quite close during my time at Rosewarren. You might even say we’re the best of friends now. ”
I couldn’t let him have the last word. I stood, looking down at him. “You might, if you were delusional.”
“True. One would have to be delusional to assume genuine affection when all signs point to that very thing.” He paused, then snapped his fingers. “Wait, no. One would have to be delusional not to.”
“Affection should not be confused with courtesy.”
“Ah, so you were simply being polite all this time? Even when we danced together in Fairhaven? And what about the way you look at me when you think I won’t notice, the way you leaned into my touch that day in the training yard—was that politeness as well?”
Gemma, watching us wide-eyed, said quietly into her cup, “I would very much like to hear more about that day in the training yard.”
I barely heard her. Gareth was all I could see, all I could hear, all I knew. I wanted to tackle him, strike him, pin him to those furs and kiss him silent.
“You think too highly of yourself,” I said, flicking out each word as if it were a blade, “and your imagination has betrayed you.”
Gareth smiled sadly. “And your anger is betraying you.”
“All right, enough,” Farrin snapped, silencing us both.
“We have a mission in the morning, so I suggest you act like the adults you are and quash whatever ill will exists between you. When we return to Rosewarren, by all means keep sniping at each other. But until then, I don’t want to hear another word of it. ”
The room went quiet after that. The only sounds were the crackling fire, which had begun to die, and the rustle of fabric as we all settled into our beds.
For a long time, I lay awake in the growing dark.
I stared at the stone wall, my back to the room.
An hour passed, then two, and finally my body relaxed enough that sleep seemed possible.
But my sentinel senses were still restless, and as the fire quieted, the only other sound in the room rose up to take its place: the sound of everyone breathing as they slept.
I resisted the urge for as long as I could before turning my attention toward Gareth’s bed.
His breathing was steady, the slightest snore rattling on every inhale.
I heard an echo of his voice in the shape and tone of his breath, and when he shifted, turning in his sleep, he let out a soft sigh, and my chest ached so much I could hardly breathe.
I relived everything we had said to each other, torturing myself with the memory, until I could no longer ignore my exhaustion and fell hard into a troubled sleep.