37. Thirty-seven
Chapter 37
Kalcedon was quiet all through dinner. I would have felt better if he were being mean. The persistent silence felt strange, different. Something was wrong with him.
“I wouldn’t have minded all the shops if they were at least different ,” Oraik complained, as he and I carried the conversation by ourselves. “It seemed each one had the same drinks, the same scarves…”
“It was too crowded,” I said.
“There’s nothing wrong with crowds.”
“Of course there is. They’re terrible.”
“Well, it’s going to be crowded,” he drawled, with a smile. “How big do you think a wyrm can get ?”
“Bigger than I’d like to encounter. Anyways, the shops probably carry those things because that’s what sells.”
“Eh.” He wrinkled his nose and cut his food into smaller bites. “If I were a shopkeep, I’d carry things nobody else had.”
“Pass the wine?”
As Oraik reached towards the jug, Kalcedon and I simultaneously flinched. I jumped halfway out of my chair, both hands on the table, before blinking and lowering myself back down.
“What?” Oraik asked, gripping the neck of the wine jug and looking nervously between Kalcedon and me. “What’s wrong?”
“Another stone broke,” I said. Kalcedon’s storm gray skin looked pale. He picked up his cup and drank deeply.
“Which one?” the prince wanted to know.
“I don’t know,” I said.
Kalcedon pointed to one of the walls.
“That way. Only four left.” He leveled a look at Oraik. “First thing in the morning, we leave for Rovileis.” His tone left no room to argue, but I saw Oraik shake his head, just barely.
Kalcedon lapsed back into silence, finishing the meal and walking back to our inn with scarcely five words from his mouth. Even when Oraik bought a hot pepper cake from a street vendor and howled from pain, Kalcedon didn't laugh.
At the inn, I grabbed Kalcedon’s arm as Oraik vanished into his room. The placid mask stared back at me, unnervingly expressionless. We were alone in the narrow hallway of the inn.
“What?” he asked sharply.
“Are you alright?”
“What an idiotic question. Were you dropped on your head as a child?”
I frowned at him, and drew a deep breath.
“You haven’t been this mean to me in ages.”
“I never wanted to come here,” he said. “But your friend wanted to, so we did. Apparently what he wants is always right.”
“You could at least try to enjoy yourself.”
“The world just kept right on going for you, didn’t it?” he said bitterly, and wrenched his arm from my grip.
“Kalcedon…” I said wearily. “Don’t do that. If you’re mad, tell me why. I’m no good at figuring these things out.”
“I’m in no mood.”
“Alright. Well, do you want—”
“No. Go have fun with your friend ,” he said, and vanished into his room. The door slammed loud behind him, making me flinch.
If he were jealous of Oraik, he had no reason to be. But Kalcedon clearly didn’t want to talk to me right now, and I wasn’t about to pound down his door to defend myself. Feeling a little hurt—I’d started to think he would never push me away—I went to my room, peeled off my shoes, and perched at the end of my bed.
I didn’t want to be alone. I felt uncomfortable; off balance with Kalcedon at my throat. I got back up and padded down the hall in search of company.
At Oraik’s door I lifted my hand to knock. The knob turned before I made contact, then swung inward. Oraik yelped to see me there, and threw one hand up defensively. He was unmasked, his thick curls loose around his head. When he realized it was just me, he clasped the hand to his heart and laughed in relief.
“I was coming to talk to you,” I blurted. “I’m sorry. If you’re headed elsewhere…”
He cleared his throat. “I was going to find you too, actually. Come in?”
I walked into the small room and sat on the edge of his bed, fiddling with my hands. What if Oraik pushed me away, too? What if they both grew to hate me, and never stopped? I had learned long ago not to get close to others. Why had I let myself forget that lesson, lately? Didn’t I know better?
“About earlier. Are you alright?” I blurted, desperate to show I wanted to stay his friend.
He shrugged. “It was just hotter than I expected.”
“No, not the pepper-cake!” I laughed. “I meant… earlier. I didn’t want to ask at dinner, in case… well, if you’d rather not talk about it in front of Kalcedon.” We still hadn’t discussed when Oraik stormed off in the afternoon.
He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh. Right. That. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“No, no. It’s fine. If I’d been through that… if my family was like that… ”
Oraik nodded. He lay down on the bed beside me, lounging on his side with a moody, solemn look on his face. With a dramatic sigh, the prince traced circles on the blanket.
“My father just… it’s hard. It hurts . I wasn’t ready to be alright.”
“Are you now?” I asked. Oraik sighed again.
“No. I don’t think so. Maybe I won’t be for a while.” He shrugged, paused, and gave me a glowing smile, one that reached ear to ear. “But I’m ready to pretend I am, at least!”
“You don’t have to pretend with me. If you don’t want to.”
“Oh, I do,” he said, still grinning as wide as his face would let him. “In fact, I would gladly pretend hard enough to change the conversation now, with many thanks.”
He laughed. Assuming it must be funny, even though I didn’t get it, I laughed too. Then he shook his head.
“I hated the thought of you being angry with me,” I told him. He rolled his eyes.
“Sometimes, friends get angry. What of it? That’s life. You said something stupid, and I’m ready to forget it.”
“Good,” I said. “I couldn’t bear it, if you and Kalcedon both …”
“What did he do?” Oraik asked sharply.
“Nothing. He’s just in a mood.”
“Is he ever not ? Meda, I’m worried about you,” Oraik said quietly. “The two of us… we could run away right now. We could be on a ship and he wouldn’t know ‘till morning. How about Thianthi?”
“Please, Oraik. Don’t.”
“What if he snaps some day? You saw what he’s capable of. He’s a faerie, Meda. They’re—”
“Don’t,” I begged. “Please.”
“—Heartless.”
“I’m not sure that’s true, actually.”
“Do you know what I think? I think that sword was coming at you on the boat, and he made it hit me instead.”
Oraik wasn’t wrong. But of course Kalcedon was going to protect me, out of the two of us. He had not intentionally hurt Oraik.
“I trust him. He’s… I love him,” I blurted.
“ Him ?” Oraik asked, scandalized. “A whole world full of people, and you love him ? Meda, that is positively foul.”
“Just because you don't understand him.”
“Fine. Fine,” the prince threw up one hand; the other was propping him up. There was a worried look on his face. “I just hope you come to your senses. I dearly love to be told I’m right.”
I gave him a look. He shook his head and looked nonchalantly away, then mimed locking his lips together.
“Anyways, we can’t go to Thianthi,” I told him. “You’ll be safer in Rovileis, with all the Nameless.”
“I’m not going back there.”
“It can’t have been that bad.”
“It was. But enough. Should we go out somewhere?” Oraik asked. “Try a Temorian tavern? And no more sad talk about sad things?”
“More walking? Please, no,” I begged.
“Get stewed in the room?” he offered, arching an eyebrow.
“That, I could manage.”
He grinned, slipped off the bed, and went to buy a bottle from the innkeeper.