Chapter 29 Beneath the Hill #2
The man—it had to be Talon—came closer, a dozen emotions playing across his face at once.
Unlike Octavian—or all three of the brothers, really—he either had no ability to or interest in masking his expression, and his dark eyes danced like there were living flames inside them.
I couldn’t have said whether he was overjoyed or suspicious or pissed at our sudden appearance.
And then, faster than a blink, his fist shot out, straight for Octavian’s face.
I jumped back instinctively, startled by the sudden movement, but apparently Octavian was ready.
He skillfully dodged Talon’s first attack, and the one that came after—and within seconds, the two were striking and dodging in what frankly looked like a practiced routine. Up, down. Left, right. Down, up, down—
Octavian’s arm arced down from above, aiming for the place where the other man’s neck met his shoulder. But both of Talon’s hands came up, blocking Octavian’s blow and trapping his hand in both of his.
And then Talon’s face spread into a wide grin, and he let out a great laugh. “So it’s true—the legendary hero of Therador has returned to us!”
Legendary hero?
I looked up at Octavian. Given his size, musculature, and aggressive protectiveness, I wasn’t especially surprised to hear that he was considered a hero.
I was surprised, however, that this had never been mentioned to me before.
And to find, as I glanced around the room, that everyone else in here was looking at him like he was some sort of god.
Everyone except Talon, who spread his arms, still laughing. “Aren’t you going to greet your old friend?”
Their little scuffle had apparently shattered all of Octavian’s reservations.
“Talon,” he said warmly.
The pair clapped each other on the back in a classic man-hug, and though both were clearly trying to keep their cool, it was obvious that this reunion was a meaningful one.
“You’ve gotten taller since the last time I saw you,” Talon said, stepping back and looking up at his friend. He wasn’t a small man, but he was dwarfed next to Octavian. He rubbed his chin. “Broader, too. Have you been off training in a cave somewhere?”
“You’ve changed, too,” Octavian rumbled in response. “I don’t remember you being able to grow a beard.”
Talon tipped his head back and laughed again.
“A lot can happen in ten years,” he said, his eyes bright with mirth but his tone growing serious.
“But I’m sure you know that better than anyone, old friend.
” His gaze flicked past Octavian’s thick arm, landing on me for the first time.
“And I see you’ve picked up a new little friend along the way.
Good. I never thought I’d see you get over Esmerine. ”
“Who?” Octavian asked.
Talon gave him a funny look, then shook his head, his smile returning.
Three different birds flapped down from the ceiling and landed on his shoulders, two on one side and one on the other.
“Never mind, I’m just glad you’ve returned to us.
Come, both of you. Have you had breakfast yet? We’ve plenty to share.”
At the word breakfast, my mouth began to water, and I was more than happy to follow Talon over to the long table. If Octavian had decided we could trust these people, that was good enough for me.
“Over here.” The cheerful girl who’d led us here waved me over to a chair next to hers, and I was too hungry to be picky about where I sat. I slid into the chair and stared at the tempting spread in front of me—meat, eggs, crusty bread, and an entire bowl of colorful, unusual fruit.
I took a little of everything—just a little, because even though I was starving, I was still very aware that Octavian and I were guests. These people seemed friendly enough, but I didn’t want to inadvertently break any Theradorian etiquette and make things weird.
“I’m Arabeth, by the way,” said the girl beside me. “Most people call me Ary.” She pronounced it like airy, which certainly suited her effervescent personality. “What’s yours?”
“Marigold,” I replied automatically, before I had the chance to pause and think if I should give her the name Pearl instead, just as I had Laitha. Or even the name Cateline that Radven had suggested. “Some of my friends call me Goldie.”
“Goldie. I like that.” She spooned a giant helping of egg on top of her piece of crusty toast. Now that she’d taken off her cloak, I could see that, unlike most of the women around here, she wore a pair of simple brown pants and a rather billowy shirt that hung open at the neck.
Beneath her collar, bluish-purple ink stretched in an intricate pattern across her collarbone and up the sides of her throat.
Past her, at the end of the table, Octavian had taken a chair next to Talon.
His azure eyes met mine, and I could see the question there.
He was concerned for my comfort and wellbeing, even now, and I nodded to assure him that I was all right.
He gave me the briefest of smiles before turning back to his friend, who was encouraging Octavian to pile his plate high.
Other men and women from the room started to gather around Octavian’s chair, clearly fascinated by this new arrival.
More of the birds had flown down from the ceiling, too, perching on chairs or on Talon.
On Talon’s other side sat a slender man who was leaning back in his chair with his booted feet propped up on the table.
His casual pose reminded me a little of Radven…
but the scowl on his face was all Alastor.
He looked to be about the same age as the men beside him, with shoulder-length red hair hanging loose around his shoulders and an angular, clean-shaven jaw.
There was a dusting of ginger freckles across his pale cheeks, as well as his nose—which had been broken at least twice, judging by its shape.
He wasn’t what most people would have considered handsome, but there was something compelling about him all the same—aside from his glower, at least.
At the moment, that glower appeared to be reserved specifically for Octavian. Did that mean not all of Talon’s friends were happy to see us? Was this man a threat? One of the birds landed on the table in front of him, gave a pert little chirp, then flitted back to sit on Talon’s forearm.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Ary asked beside me.
I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten about the food. I dove into my plate, keeping one eye on Octavian and the crowd at that end of the table and attempting to overhear their conversation. Meanwhile, Ary launched into an interrogation of her own.
“How long have you been traveling with the Lion Warrior?” she asked me.
“Who?” I responded around a mouthful of salted meat.
“What do you mean, who? Oak.” She inclined her head in his direction.
“I’ve just never heard him called that before.”
“So you’ve been traveling with him without having any idea of who he is?
” She shook her head, amused. “You had to have some idea, though, right? Every song describes him the same way—big as a mountain, tall as a tree, the strongest of men that you ever did see…” She trailed off when it was clear I had no idea what she was talking about.
“Not far from here, in the Yellow Oak Leaf tunnel, there’s a mural of him slaying the Basilisk Queen of Rhodari—haven’t you seen it?
He looks exactly the same. That’s how I recognized him. ”
“This is my first time in Ring-Around-the-Hill,” I reminded her with a shrug before shoving a bunch of egg in my mouth.
It seemed like the safest answer, since I wasn’t sure how much of the truth Octavian intended to tell these people.
But I was curious, and Ary was willing to talk, so I decided to take a chance.
I swallowed quickly and asked, “So he’s some sort of legendary hero around here? ”
“Not just around here—in all of Therador.” Her big eyes were openly studying me. “The legends about him have only multiplied in the time he’s been missing. Where have you been living that you haven’t heard of the Mighty Oak?”
“Somewhere far away,” I replied with another shrug. “What do these legends say?”
“Oh, you know—they just tell the stories of all his greatest triumphs. The slaying of the Basilisk Queen is always a favorite around here, but I’m partial to the tale of his quest for the Seven Shadows. Or the time he challenged the demon chimera.”
“He did all those things?”
“And about a hundred others.”
I stole a glance in Octavian’s direction. So all this time he’d essentially been this world’s Hercules? That explained quite a bit, actually.
“How long did you say you’ve been traveling with him?” Ary asked.
“Not long,” I replied, deliberately vague.
“Is he a good lover?”
“What?” My eyes snapped back to her.
“He’s very handsome,” Ary replied. “I’ve always been curious about what it would be like to be with a man so much bigger and stronger than me.”
“We’re not lovers,” I blurted, face flushing. I’d just met this girl, and this was the conversation she wanted to have?
“Really? Are you sure?”
“Um, I think I’d know,” I said, ears blazing. I quickly shoveled a big bite of smoked sausage into my mouth.
“Hmm. Usually I’m better about guessing these things,” she said.
“There’s an energy, you see, when people are lovers.
Even when they think they’re being discrete.
” She leaned closer, dropping her voice so that no one at the other end of the table could hear, even if they'd been inclined to divert their attention away from Octavian.
“Take Talon—he and Ivo have been lovers for nearly two months now, though neither of them have admitted it to anyone else yet.”
“Ivo?”
“The one glaring daggers at Oak.” She grinned. “I guess he doesn’t like having competition for Talon’s attention.” She took another quick bite of food then added, “Don’t worry—he’s harmless. Just jealous.”
That put things into perspective. At the other end of the table, Talon let out a huge laugh, and the red-haired guy—Ivo—pulled his boots down off the table and grabbed his fork, feigning disinterest in the conversation. He stabbed at the last bit of food on his plate and shoved it into his mouth.
My eyes drifted back to Octavian. He and Talon were now bent close, speaking quietly with each other, though Talon’s bright eyes and wide smile suggested he was on the verge of rowdy laughter again.
Everything about their body language suggested an ease and familiarity, as if they’d known each other their whole lives.
“Are you sure you two aren’t lovers?” Ary asked.
I jumped, turning back to her. “I promise we aren’t, but—”
“I knew there’d be a but.” She clapped her hands together. “You want to be his lover but you aren’t yet, am I right?”
“I…I honestly don’t know where I stand,” I told her. Yes, she was a stranger, but it felt kind of nice to be able to talk to someone about this. I was really missing Esmer and Isaac right about now. “We’ve kissed, but…it’s complicated.”
“Why? Is there someone else?”
Maybe. And on both sides, which made the situation even trickier. But I wasn’t about to confess to Ary that just last night I'd nearly lost my virginity to Octavian’s brother, of all people.
“Well, I see the way he keeps looking at you,” she said. “He wants you, trust me.”
I grabbed a piece of lumpy, sky-blue fruit, carefully ignoring her eyes.
I could believe that Octavian wanted me—or at the very least, that his body reacted to mine the way mine reacted to his—but that didn’t negate the fact that he’d straight-up told me just this morning that he couldn’t give me his heart.
Ary apparently took my silence as a challenge, because she leaned closer, her big eyes gleaming.
“Don’t worry, Goldie,” she said. “Listen to me and I guarantee you’ll be in his arms by the end of tonight.”