Chapter 30 Torin
Chapter Thirty
Torin
The carefree, uninhibited belly laughter of a child floated across the ample grounds, echoing off the weathered stone of the manor to encapsulate me completely.
There were a plethora of things that needed my immediate attention this morning: dividing our army into task forces based on skill set, discussion with our scouts to ascertain movement in Samyr, my own personal training both with Folami and Ellowyn, and ensuring that each of my generals had what they needed for their designated roles.
Yet all thoughts bled with the sound of Itanya’s joy.
The sound was so pure, so undiluted, that I froze mid-step, boot hovering over the weathered stone stairs.
As if drawn by some invisible force, I turned around and approached the edge of the garden where a white stone arch, blackened by sea brine, separated the manor from the rest of the property.
I leaned against it, breathing deeply as a smile broke across my face at the sight of Itanya running from Lex and Ilyas, shrieking all the while.
The large Vessel extended his arms, intent on capturing the little girl, but she skirted his reaching fingers with a spin and a squeal before slapping Ilyas’ back with a loud “You’re it” before scampering back across the open grassy field to hide behind Lex.
Ilyas straightened with a look of disbelief before shaking his head, eyes glimmering with humor.
“Oh, you’re going to get it this time, little one!” he called.
Itanya giggled, her hands wrapped firmly in Lex’s tunic, as she poked her head around the Mage. “Nope! Lex will protect me!”
Lex’s joy was palpable even from this distance, his smile nearly as blinding as the midafternoon sun.
“Quick, this way!” he shouted, turning to scoop Itanya into his arms as he sprinted away from Ilyas to hide behind a small copse of trees. Ilyas’ booming laugh followed their retreat, mixing with Itanya’s shrieks and squeals to create a cacophony of pure joy.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Folami approach, spear still in hand after her first training session, expression a mixture of wonder and soft appreciation. The past few weeks brought more smiles, more joy, to Folami’s life than the past twenty years combined.
They’re so good for her, if she would just let them be this.
Seeming to hear my thoughts, Folami set her spear gently on the ground before sprinting soundlessly into the trees, eyes wide and bright.
“What seems to have caught your attention, Lord d’Eshu?” I nearly jumped at the nasally voice that slithered from behind, but withheld my reaction, not wanting to grant Razia such a prize.
“Nothing,” I grunted, pushing off the archway and turning abruptly back to the manor, leading the sniveling councilor away from the image of bliss to my rear.
It was one thing for me to silently observe my friends as they connected, figuring out how they fit into each other’s lives.
It was another entirely for Razia to invade such a private moment; it felt wrong, slimy, and I would do what I could to protect their privacy.
“Do you have a reason for seeking me out, Razia, or are you simply trying to ruin my day?” I asked, tone as clipped as my strides.
Razia huffed indignantly as we climbed the steps up to the manor, his footfalls echoing mine.
I’d stopped pandering to Lord d’Leocopus’ wishes and barred Razia from nearly all of our councils. Despite the incessant digging into Razia’s past and present—even going as far as to have him followed—there were no red flags, nothing of note that would indicate deception.
By all accounts, he was bland. Rude and more than a bit judgmental, but bland all the same. There was no discovered subterfuge, no dealings in the dark. Just a weird, angry man who tried to weasel his way into discussions where he wasn’t wanted.
Still, I didn’t trust him. There was something just off about Razia, and I was admittedly grateful when Lord d’Leocopus finally ceased his incessant badgering and gave up trying to insert his lackey into my meetings.
Razia’s near-death experience at my hands after his less-than-savory remarks about Ellowyn probably influenced that decision.
Now, it seemed, my goodwill had expired, and I was to be subject to the snake once again.
“Yes, I have news,” he panted as he followed me through the dark and silent manor, the echoes of the sea and life outside swallowed by the heavy oak doors and thick walls.
“Yes?” I barked, stopping suddenly and turning to look at Razia. The man nearly ran into me, skidding to a stop a few inches from the toes of my boots. I smiled thinly as he brushed nonexistent dirt off his bright red doublet, retreating a few inches from my power that was pulsing wildly in waves.
“Can you control that? I don’t think my life needs to be threatened over my next words,” he dictated icily, beady eyes flashing with something I couldn’t quite name.
I grunted, but reeled my power in just enough that it wouldn’t lash at him unexpectedly.
If he said anything about Ellowyn—even hinted at something malicious—then I could not be held responsible for my reaction.
“I have a scouting report from Samyr,” he said, voice easily slipping back into unruffled oiliness once more.
My eyebrows ticked despite my air of bored unaffectedness, and I nearly scowled at Razia’s answering smug grin.
Bastard.
“How? All of our scouts were either detained or killed,” I growled, hands flexing at my sides.
It was maddening, actually, that all of our attempts to see what our enemy was planning were thwarted with alarming ease.
We’d tried sending them in all manners of ways at all times of day, even going as far as to conceal their whereabouts to everyone but a very small inner circle.
No matter what we did, our scouts were somehow always found.
It reasoned to believe there was a leak from somewhere, and my eyes narrowed on the man in front of me once more.
“I took the liberty of sending my own scouting party,” he announced, and I bristled at the insinuation. “I’ve lived here much longer than you, Torin d’Eshu. Lishahl’s army was mine first, and I know these lands better than anyone else.”
Despite my hatred, there was no denying the truth of his statements.
“What is the cost of your information?”
A slow smile spread across Razia’s face. “You are much smarter than you appear, Lord d’Eshu.”
I frowned at the backhanded compliment.
“The cost is simple, really, and complements the information my scouts discovered.”
I grunted for him to continue. He took his time, adjusting his doublet and folding his hands in front of his waist while I huffed in impatience.
“I grow weary of your games, Razia,” I growled, power oozing into my palm with my irritation.
Razia sighed but pulled his dark gaze to mine. “The scouts uncovered a fleet of ships readying in Samyr’s port harbor.”
I blinked, rapidly processing the information. “They mean to sail and attack.”
Razia nodded once.
“It would appear that way, yes.”
“How could my payment possibly coincide with that information.”
“You are still the heir to Iluul’s throne, yes?” he purred, and I blinked in response. Razia huffed before continuing. “We do not have the fleet capacity to defend against a naval attack. You need to use your rank in Iluul to secure us enough ships to manage a defense of Lishahl.”
I scratched my beard to hide the shaking of my hands. I hadn’t been back to Iluul since I left with Matamuri two decades ago. That was not common knowledge, and I intended to keep it that way, though it posed a bit of a challenge in securing the necessary naval power.
I don’t know if they’ll even recognize me .
. . And not just physically—I no longer acted like a southern lord, no longer dressed as one.
The northern half of my blood was too potent, the draw to the land here too powerful, and I wondered, deep down, if my father had found a replacement heir in my extended absence.
“Deal,” I agreed, voice heavy with the impending trip.
“Delightful. You will leave at once; I will have a carriage prepared—”
I held up my hand and halted Razia’s words with a slight gust of air. His tongue stilled, eyes flashing in annoyance.
“You will not and I will not,” I commanded. “This is not a meeting I can simply go into without planning first. It will take weeks if not months to—”
“You may not have months, Torin d’Eshu,” Razia snarled, face reddening in sudden anger. “Their ships are moored in the harbor as we speak. At any time they could—”
“They could,” I agreed, cutting him off once more. “But I am not prepared to leave yet. The south is not ready to receive me, and I am not yet ready to leave my wife.”
The moniker slipped out before I could take it back.
It wasn’t true, but it would be—soon, if I had anything to say about it.
“Wife?” Razia hissed, his turn to be caught by surprise.
“Yes, that woman you insulted so long ago? The one you were convinced was not worth rescuing? She is to be my wife.”
Razia hummed, blinking rapidly in thought. “I will alert Lord d’Leocopus. I am certain he would want the . . . honor of hosting your nuptials.”
Meaning: this is where we would be married—there would be no other choice.
I inclined my head, unsettled by the turn in conversation and itching to be near Ellowyn. With a grunt of acknowledgment, I turned and headed for the main staircase.
“Oh, Lord d’Eshu?” Razia’s voice slithered through the quiet space, twining around my chest just as my palm hit the dark wooden banister.
I paused, refusing to turn and look at him once more lest he see the war written on my face.
“My scouts said they heard whispers that the gods were looking for someone. A powerful female, by the sounds of it.” His tone was too casual, the information mentioned too offhandedly for it not to be a setup, yet my heart clenched in knowing all the same.
“Best marry her soon, if you think that will keep her safe.”
I said nothing more, simply launched myself up the stairs and away from the information that just burst whatever small bubble of peace I’d concocted while watching Itanya play with Lex and Ilyas.