CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
Thom tossed and turned throughout the night.
Over and over, he ruffled his hair, his head in his hands as he stared wide-eyed at the ceiling.
Although he knew he must have fallen asleep at some point, he had no memory of doing so.
Instead, he drifted through a series of wakeful moments until he finally sat up on the edge of his bed, the rising sun casting an orange glow across the room.
What a bloody idiot you are, Thom thought.
He pushed off the bed, unable to bear his reproachful, embarrassed thoughts any longer.
He’d been such a fool. What man in his right mind made such an egregious overture to a woman who had only moments before pointedly told him that she thought he should marry another?
Whatever feelings Brea had held in the past for him, it was clear that she had no intention of forsaking her vow to the Alliance for any reason, let alone for him.
Grumbling at his insanity, Thom dressed in a hurry.
He hoped the others weren’t up yet. He could grab a quick breakfast and sneak out of the apartment, avoiding Brea until after their appointment with the Administration later that afternoon.
Then he’d work up the courage to apologize to her and congratulate her on whichever Mage she chose to marry.
The good news was that, shortly, they’d likely live on opposite sides of the continent.
Whichever of the Mages she Bonded with, they would take her away.
Wilkinsone’s affinity was to Water, Humes’s was to Wind, and Grames’s was to Terrae.
Even if, by some miracle, Deckard and Evylin took the position in Loclight, he’d be weeks away from any of the other Orders, meaning he wouldn’t have to worry about awkwardly running into Brea any time soon.
And after a few years, they could laugh it off like the joke it was.
Tugging his cravat looser than was strictly standard, Thom stepped out of his suite.
He entered the parlor to find Mrs. Wilumson setting the small dining table with a smorgasbord of breakfast. It smelled of hearty sausage, herbaceous potatoes, buttery bread, and fragrant tea.
The room was filled with light, as the windows were open to the early morning breeze. Songbirds crooned from their perches.
And Thom regretted even waking as he took his first step into the parlor.
Seated at the table, Brea thanked Mrs. Wilumson for the cup of tea she’d just handed to her.
She’d braided her tight black curls back this morning in thick plaits before pinning them into a bun at the base of her neck.
Dressed in a subdued tunic, vest, and skirt, she appeared more Warrior-like as usual.
The sunlight caught on her brown skin, making her look like a radiant angel.
As Mrs. Wilumson moved to depart, Thom silently mouthed a particularly vile curse. Though Brea was seated facing the wall, there was no doubt in his mind that she already knew he was there. The woman heard everything—thus the silent curse rather than a muttered one.
Forcing himself to man up, Thom steeled his bravery. If he could face down dragons, vaengebjorn, bloodwolves, and all other manners of mythological creatures, he could handle an awkward conversation with the woman he loved.
Thom drew back his shoulders and approached the table. “Morning,” he said casually. He took the seat across from Brea—though not directly—and reached for the teapot.
“Good morning,” Brea replied with a polite smile.
Throat as dry as the wind outside the stone palace, he inquired, “Did you sleep well?”
Brea blinked, pausing for only a moment as she filled her plate. “I did,” she said. “These beds are rather luxurious.”
“Like everything here,” Thom noted.
“Yes.”
Hearing the curious tilt to her tone, Thom sipped his tea, then settled the cup back on the cotton tablecloth. “So,” he began, “I think I should probably address the, uh . . . rather unintentional statement I made last night.”
Brea’s sharp brow arched, but he kept talking before she could reply. “We were drinking, and though I was not drunk, wine is known to make me act in less than the wisest manner at times.” The words came out stilted and forced. He cleared his throat. “What I mean to say is—”
“Good morning!” Calyn called in a cheerful singsong as she flounced into the room in a bright pink dress.
Thom did curse audibly then.
Calyn narrowed her eyes reprovingly. “That’s not polite, Thom,” she said.
“You scared me,” he grumbled as she took the seat next to Brea.
Tucking a few of her brown waves behind her ear, Calyn wrinkled her nose. “I merely said good morning.”
Brea patted her hand. “He’s a miserable grouch when he wakes,” she said by way of explanation. “I had the unfortunate pleasure of experiencing that daily while we traveled.”
“Can something be an unfortunate pleasure?” Calyn asked, gathering her own breakfast.
Brea smirked, lifting her teacup to her lips. “I can’t think of any better way to describe him.”
Unsure if that was Brea’s way of offering her unspoken forgiveness, Thom grinned warily. “Ha-ha,” he mocked.
Her smile grew, but she turned back to her breakfast.
“Are you feeling all right?” Calyn asked him suddenly.
Thom frowned. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well, you left the party early. Cris had to walk me back.”
“I’m sure you were devastated.”
She ignored his quip. “And now, you look sort of . . . pallid. There are an awful lot of shadows on your face, particularly under your eyes.”
“I didn’t sleep well,” Thom said tersely.
“Did you drink too much?” Calyn asked.
“No.”
Brea looked up, meeting Thom’s gaze with a sly glimmer in her dark eyes. “Perhaps we ought to call the doctor,” she said. “Sometimes, the weak-bodied develop what’s called ‘air sickness’ this high in the mountains. It would be a pity if you were bedridden the rest of our time in the city, mi’caro.”
Brea spoke with a daring spark that allowed Thom to breathe again. It was as if by her teasing she was offering to overlook the awkward truth if he chose to do so. She seemed determined not to let their friendship waver, just as he hadn’t let hers falter either.
Grateful for her kindness, Thom returned her smile, albeit a bit more nervously than usual. “I’m quite hale, demoloba,” he replied.
“Are you sure?” Calyn asked, leaning forward with worry. “I’ve never seen you so haggard.”
Thom gave her a flat look, but Brea brushed Calyn’s concern away. “Don’t worry, Caly. I’ll keep an eye on him. Now, tell me, did you enjoy your evening with Cris?”
“Oh, yes!” Calyn said, a light blush coloring her cheeks. “He’s quite charming and an excellent dancer. I was worried that it wouldn’t be appropriate to share so many sets with him, but as I didn’t know anyone else, I didn’t feel right accepting many other partners anyway.”
“All Schonese men are trained dancers,” Brea said matter-of-factly. “We highly prize dancing in our culture.”
“I’ve never seen you dance,” Thom said, surprised.
Brea turned a cunning grin his way. “You’ve never asked me to.”
He blanched and chose to let the taunt go. Turning away, he looked at Calyn. “Cris was a gentleman, right? He didn’t try anything untoward?”
Calyn’s jaw dropped along with her eyes. “Of course not,” she said sharply, though she shifted with discomfort in her seat.
Thom studied her knowingly. “He kissed you,” he surmised.
Her dark gaze flew back to his face, her cheeks turning the color of the Fire Relic.
Thom nodded. “I knew it.”
“It was on the cheek, if you must know,” Calyn insisted. “Nothing inappropriate.”
“But still, rather forward.”
Brea made a face. “Kissing on the cheek is a greeting and a farewell in Schon,” she said.
“Well, we aren’t in Schon, are we?” Thom returned. He thought about commenting that Brea had never kissed his cheek in any manner but decided it was best to refrain.
“Decidedly not,” Brea said before turning to Calyn. “While I’m sure Cris meant it more affectionately with you, I am also sure it wasn’t intended to be forward.”
Calyn looked between them, chewing on her bottom lip in a manner that resembled Evylin. “Do you think he’s . . . He wouldn’t be interested in forming an attachment,” she said. “Surely, not so soon.”
Brea shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’ve yet to speak with him on the subject.”
Calyn nodded with enthusiastic understanding as Deckard and Evylin entered the parlor.
Thankfully, their arrival put an end to Thom and Brea’s more personal conversations.
They weren’t scheduled to meet with the Administration until later in the afternoon, leaving the morning free for relaxation and exploration.
After breakfast, Thom murmured a subtle “Happy birthday” to Deckard while the women prepared to leave.
Then they met up with Ethenn, Ilain, Vayden, and Reyana.
Brea excused herself to spend the morning with her family, easing Thom’s discomfort even more.
Though part of him never wanted to be apart from her, another part of him was glad for the separation.
It allowed him to think of other matters.
Such as what he was going to do with the rest of his life.
One of the Alliance clerks gave their party a tour of the Aulden Palace grounds.
The sprawling palace featured a training ground suitable for the grandest military in the world, along with numerous dance halls, apartments, and governmental offices.
The clerk informed them that the official administrative work of Allund would take place within the palace walls.
It would function as their central command, while the chancellors, commanders, and ministers would enact the laws across the land.
Thom wondered where he fit into this new world of theirs.
He would follow Deckard and Evylin so long as they’d let him, but he had no idea what that future would look like.
He didn’t think he’d make a good general, so it was just as well that they wouldn’t accept the position in Loclight.
Perhaps they could all become soldiers together.