Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
T he wind howled through the trees as the sky darkened, clouds heavy with the promise of rain.
Leander pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders, urging his horse forward.
Beside him, Jarryn rode silently, his mouth set in a hard line as they made their way through the forest. The day had been filled with enough trials for the pair, no more so than for Jarryn, who was still reaching over to hold his side every so often and the brewing storm threatened to complicate everything for the pair of them.
Entering the winter season, the demigod was just glad it was rain—and not snow—that threatened them tonight.
For his part, Leander watched Jarryn with growing concern, worried that his injuries were worse than he had originally assessed, and certainly worse than Jarryn was letting on. They had managed to get him back on his horse, but his position was precarious at best.
Leander felt as though he was waiting for the prince to lose consciousness and fall off his horse. Perhaps he was catastrophising a little, but the fear was there.
“We need to find shelter,” Jarryn muttered, glancing up at the swirling clouds, which were growing more and more ominous by the minute. “Or we’re going to get caught in this storm, and it doesn’t look as if it’s going to pass quickly.”
Leander shot him a look, eyes narrowed. “I’ve noticed. If I had stayed with the others, you would be still in that godsforsaken ravine, a victim to the elements. As well as your own folly.”
“Luckily, you are my rescuer…. which I am very grateful for.” Jarryn clenched his jaw, irritation flaring just below mental shields that Leander knew were becoming more challenging for him to keep erecting.
“I thought you didn’t believe in luck, Your Highness,” Leander quipped.
“Luck isn’t the issue. I don’t believe in it, just in the power of low expectations.”
Leander opened his mouth to respond when the first drops of rain began to fall, and it wasn’t long before it quickly turned into a torrential downpour. Within moments, they were soaked through. The horses snorted, their hooves struggling in the quickly muddying path.
“There!” Leander pointed ahead through the sheets of rain. A small, dilapidated barn stood at the edge of a clearing, half-hidden by the surrounding trees. “Better than nothing.” Squinting in the dark, Leander didn’t think it would offer much protection, but there was nothing else for it.
Jarryn nodded, spying it too as he followed Leander’s pointing finger to the space through the trees. “It will have to suffice.”
They pushed the horses toward the shelter. By the time they reached the barn, the storm had turned fierce, thunder rumbling overhead as lightning split the sky.
Inside, the barn was dark and smelled of damp wood and hay. It had clearly been abandoned for some time, Leander decided. Jarryn dismounted with a grunt, his clothes clinging uncomfortably to his skin. The dismount was a quick one and he doubled over in pain.
Leander followed, and was instantly at Jarryn’s side. “Sit down.”
Once Jarryn sat on an old wooden box in the corner of the barn, Leander turned to the horses, guiding them both into another, also sheltered, corner before pulling off his soaked cloak.
“Not exactly royal accommodations,” Jarryn muttered, dragging his hand through his hair in an attempt to remove the water from it.
Leander shot him a sidelong glance. “We’ll manage.” Once happy the horses were secured and comfortable, he returned to sit on the floor next to Jarryn, pulling his knees up and resting his elbows on them. “You’re telling me you’ve never slept rough?”
“Oh, I’ve been on more than enough week-long hunts in my time to have enjoyed sun, rain, and snow. Precipitation is the best for building morale and camaraderie.” Jarryn replied in a falsely jovial tone.
They sat in silence for a moment, the sound of rain hammering against the roof now the only noise between them .
Leander wondered if what remained of the roof would hold, it didn’t look like the rotting wood would survive the beating of rain upon it. Then again, it had probably stood for decades: one more night would not be its undoing.
Jarryn shifted uncomfortably, trying to wring out the edges of his tunic.
Leander had his back against the wall with forearms crossed as he bowed his head forward to rest it on his arms. “I fucking hate rain. And thunder is even worse.”
“Isn’t your own mother the deity of storms?”
“Yeah, so?”
“… Nothing.” Jarryn shrugged, then winced, and Leander felt his frustration bubbling up once more.
Obviously, he was in more pain than he was letting on.
Leander prayed that there weren’t any more sinister injuries.
“We’d be caught in the storm no matter what we did.
Here, there, with the others still on the hunt, it doesn’t matter.
But go on, blame me if it makes you feel better. ”
“It’s not about blame, Jarryn,” Leander replied, his voice calm. “It’s about thinking ahead. Sometimes you just don’t consider the consequences.”
Jarryn’s eyes flashed. “Please don’t speak to me of actions without thought.
You seem to be forgetting that I found you pinned to a wall about to be beaten bloody and senseless because you had more alcohol than blood in your veins.
You have proven time and time again that you don’t have the good sense to look after yourself.
No self-preservation whatsoever, really. It’s sad.”
“One time. An isolated incident.”
“Oh, really? I beg to differ.”
“What would you know of it, anyway? How can you judge my life and decisions when you cannot even fathom?—”
“Can’t I? Can’t I have any inkling of what it is like to have everything and then lose it in a matter of moments? Can’t I know just what it is to have no chance of exoneration?”
Leander opened his mouth to argue, but something in Jarryn’s tone made him pause. He wasn’t used to hearing Jarryn speak like this—without the usual barbs or sharp edges.
The rain pounded harder outside, filling the silence between them.
Leander leaned against the wall, arms still crossed as he stared at the floor. “You always have a way of making me feel like I’m not enough,” he muttered.
Jarryn blinked, clearly surprised. “That’s not what I?—”
“Yes, it is, Jarryn,” Leander interrupted, his voice quiet but with confidence as he finally aired his grievances.
He didn’t have alcohol to loosen his tongue tonight, but still the words fell freely.
It was as if the storm outside gave permission for the expression of grievances in their little harbour from the elements.
“Every time I’m sent on some public duty, it’s like you’re waiting for me to mess up.
Like you expect me to. You’re no better than my father. ”
Jarryn was silent for a long moment, his brow furrowed in thought. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. Leander had to strain to hear him over the rain pounding on the tiled roof of the barn. “It’s not that I’m waiting for you to fail. It’s that I don’t want you to.”
Leander looked up, meeting his gaze. “Why?”
Jarryn sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. “ Because your failure isn’t just yours. It affects all of us—me included. We may not get along?—”
“Understatement of the century.”
“—but it feels as if we’re both tied to the same fate. You were right, I’ve given your words a lot of thought: we must work together, lest we fall divided.”
Leander was taken aback by the honesty in Jarryn’s words. He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected to hear concern from someone who always seemed to view him as a rival, an obstacle. An enemy.
“Leander,” Jarryn began slowly, “I’m not the only one with pressure on my shoulders. You act like you’re above it all, everything in this mortal world. Nine, I can feel your distaste for everything about Cariun, from its people to its ants. But I think I know what’s at stake for you too.”
Leander’s eyes flickered, and for a moment, he considered simply ignoring the comment. The conversation was over for now.
But then Jarryn spoke again, voice low. “You’re right, though. I’ve spent my life trying to prove I’m more than just a title. That I can stand on my own.”
The rain seemed to fade into the background as the two men sat there, their rivalry so insignificant when compared with the sheer power of the storm outside. Leander studied Jarryn’s face in silence, seeing for the first time the weight he carried, the exhaustion in his eyes that matched his own.
It occurred to the demigod briefly that his mother had purposefully sent this storm in an effort to give the pair the chance to reconcile their differences while they were stuck with each other with no third party to act as adjudicator.
Here, surrounded on all sides by rain and thunder, they were at Leía’s mercy.
They had nothing but time to speak and consider their tumultuous relationship.
“I guess we’re not so different,” Jarryn said finally, his voice stronger than the quiet softness it had held before. More certain.
Leander looked at him, his usual cold and calculated expression replaced with something more thoughtful. “Maybe not.”
They fell into a quiet, uneasy truce as the storm raged on, in a space where animosity no longer felt important.
There was a crack of lightning and a rumble of thunder, which broke Leander out of his almost peaceful rest. The horses reared and the demigod was up in a heartbeat, over to soothe the horses.
Jarryn was up and standing, moving over beside him only moments later.
“You should rest, Jarryn,” Leander admonished, noticing Jarryn was still favouring one side over the other.
“I’m fine,” the prince muttered as he focused on calming down his stallion.
Jarryn leaned against the wall as his hand stroked his stallion’s nose, calming him.
He stared out at the rain through the uncovered window.
“Strange, isn’t it? How we’re always at each other’s throats, but here we are, stuck in a storm with no Lucien to bang our heads together. Like some bad joke.”
Leander snorted, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “If it’s a joke, the gods have a twisted sense of humour. I wouldn’t put it past my mother to lock us away together like this.”
Jarryn glanced at him and Leander had the strange sense that he wanted to ask a genuine question about his immortal kin but thought better of it. “Maybe they’re trying to tell us something,” he joked instead.
Leander raised an eyebrow. “Like what? That we should stop bickering long enough to survive a little bit of rain?”
Jarryn forced a grin. “Maybe. Or maybe there’s something bigger to it.”
Leander was quiet for a moment. He didn’t even want to think of what the gods above them were plotting, and he would never know, stuck down on Cariun as he was.
“Is there some greater plan? For us?”
“For whom? You and me?”
“No,” Jarryn scowled. “For us .” He gestured around, as if encompassing the world.
“Probably not.”
They fell into silence. There were a few more strikes of lightning but the horses seemed to be less startled by each one. Satisfied, Jarryn returned to his perch, Leander trailing on behind.
They both stared at the ground for a moment, the tension in the air less palpable now. Jarryn was clearly in less pain as well: his mental barriers were firmly in place, so Leander couldn’t sense what he thought of him, but he had a strong suspicion that it wasn’t entirely negative anymore.
Jarryn finally broke the silence. “You ever wonder how things might’ve been if we didn’t hate each other from the start? ”
Leander exhaled slowly. “You mean if you didn’t hate me?” he corrected quietly. “More than you’d think.”
Jarryn glanced at him, catching the honesty in his tone. “Then why didn’t you ever say something? Why keep this rivalry going?”
Leander looked at him, meeting his gaze. “You were not ready to listen to me. You were so set in your mind with your preconceived notions that I didn’t have a hope of making you see reason on the strength of mere logic alone… ruled by your emotions as you were…”
Jarryn thought about that, then sighed. “Maybe we were both too stubborn,” he said slowly, scratching his neck as he considered his position. Clearly he felt some residual shame for the way he had painted Leander as the enemy in front of Caisa’s whole court.
Leander nodded his head once. “Too much pride on both sides.”
The moonlight shined down on Jarryn as he smiled. “It is a sin, after all.”
Moonlight. That must mean the storm was abating, if only a little. The mention of sins had Leander thinking back, of his ever-increasing lust for the man beside him. Oh, how he craved his sensual touch.
“Did you know who I was? That first time we met, I mean?” Leander asked. “In the brothel.”
The prince nodded.
“Why did you lie about your identity?”
“I didn’t.”
Leander snorted. “Lying through omission is still lying. Trust me.”
Jarryn’s eyebrows rose, “I would have assumed it was obvious. I wanted to get the measure of you. It wasn’t my intention to interrupt you, but after I realised it was you… well I couldn’t resist making my assessment of the arrogant fallen demigod complete.”
“And you thought a brothel was the best place to make your assessment of me?”
Jarryn didn’t look the least bit ashamed as his lips quirked into a smile. They fell into another silence, but this time it felt different—less awkward, more like an understanding had passed between them.
Jarryn spoke up again, quieter this time. “Do you think things could change? Between us, I mean.”
Leander studied him for a moment before replying, “I think it might. A laugh, a word, a spark that blends.”
“What has you waxing lyrical this evening? I’d not taken you for a poet.”
There was, without a doubt, something very disarming about the prince.
“You have no idea, Jarryn,” Leander finally replied after a long silence. “As you yourself said, I’m the God of Lies. Poetry falls directly under my domain.”