Chapter 58 Durvla #2
I’m swept up in a stream of nostalgia, staring at Chiyo’s lips as she hums out a tune and begins to sing the lyrics of a song that my mam used to sing to me as a child. The melody is still fresh in my mind as though I’ve heard it just yesterday.
Beneath the pale moon’s eyes, she rode
On embers black as night,
With ire, greed, and wrath she cried
O, save me from the light
Beneath the rays of sun, she stood
In dusk as bright as day,
With misery and fear she cried
O, save me from dismay
The sun has gone, the shadows dance,
Let moonlight chase the dusk away,
Dwell not in umbra’s brutal grasp
That keeps you in a trance
O, rest your head, relent your dread
Let nightly dreams take you away,
To a land that’s far beyond this realm
Where the Other-worlders play
May Sunlagh take you by the hand,
To where Other-worlders play
Let Sunlagh take you by the hand
To the land beyond the veil
We all stare at Chiyo, mesmerized by the words, the men clearly captivated by her voice. Chiyo gives a seated flourish and announces, “Thank you! Feel free to toss a coin for your humble bard.”
We laugh and chat about songs we grew up with, exchanging stories.
Kilkenny tells us the legend of the war goddess Damarlach, who wed a mortal man and made an undefeatable warrior of him.
Osheen shares the story of Ostanha, the god of spring and love.
Clearly, Ostanha is struggling this year, based on the blight that’s slowly spreading.
We discuss a few things regarding our journey, Kilkenny showing us the map that Alys has entrusted him with. We still have quite a way to go, including another mountainous trek.
As summer approaches, the weather should be a little more bearable, but the closer we get to the Verge, the colder it becomes.
I fidget with my fingers and my dampener once we finish eating.
The tedium that was my life is so distant—I yearn for the simpler things.
I wish I’d packed some knitting needles and wool.
I could use a channel for my nervous energy.
Each day that brings us closer to Taig also brings a greater possibility of danger. At least, it feels that way. We’ve managed to somehow stay ahead of the Forayers. Maybe they’ve even lost our trail by now, but there’s a constant sinking in my stomach.
I’m so lost in thought that when I glance up, Chiyo and Osheen are on their feet, Chiyo tugging him by the sleeve toward the water. Kilkenny’s questioning look lands on me. “A shilling for your thoughts?” he asks, turning so that he’s fully facing me, his legs crisscrossed.
I’m not sure what to say without sounding like I’m indulging in self-pity. Kilkenny wouldn’t appreciate it. I turn so that I’m facing him as well, our knees touching. “It’s nothing.”
“I don’t even need to be a Whisperer to know you’re lying.” He fixes me with a stern expression. “What’s really on your mind?” he signs.
I face the riverbank where the silhouettes of Osheen and Chiyo are practicing fighting skills—or rather where Chiyo is trying to teach Osheen how to fight. I’m not sure which of us is the worse student. Kilkenny waves his hand in front of my face very gently and I turn to him again.
“I know I haven’t been the friendliest.”
“That’s an understatement.” The words fly past my lips so quickly, I’m not even able to filter them. Gods, I should stick to solely signing—at least that may give me a chance to stop myself. Maybe. But I’ve been so used to speaking aloud for so long.
Kilkenny grins at me. “How did that feel?” he asks.
“How did what feel?”
“Saying what’s actually on your mind rather than bottling it up?”
I wrinkle my nose at him. “Who says I do that?”
“You may keep your thoughts to yourself, but your face is an open book, Durvla.”
My jaw slackens for a moment before I catch my lower lip between my teeth. Durvla. My name on his hands is like a warm hug. It’s so pleasant, so affable, so unlike Kilkenny that I don’t know what to do with myself for a moment. Then, I’m grinning like a fool while fighting the urge to hide.
“What are you grinning at?”
“You called me Durvla.”
He stares at me as though I’ve jumped up and started doing a jig or something. “It is your name, isn’t it?”
“Gods …” I sigh. “You’re impossible, Kilkenny.” There’s no way he didn’t realize it’s the first time he’s not called me Garrick. The glint in his eyes is clear, even by firelight.
“I have to keep you on your toes, Garrick. Good for practice.”
I huff out an exasperated sigh and he laughs.
Laughs. My annoyance quickly disappears, and I smile again.
“I would love to hear your laughter …” As soon as the words are out there, I regret it.
Heat floods my face, and the laughter dies on Kilkenny’s lips.
But it isn’t an unpleasant expression that remains—it’s curiosity.
No words are exchanged between us for a while.
I stare at him, wishing that I had mind whispering rather than dreamwalking.
Wishing that I could just catch a glimpse of his innermost thoughts.
More facial hair has grown along his cheeks and jaw, hardening his features, but his eyes hold such warmth.
His lips move as if to say something, but even if he did, I’m too busy wondering what they’d feel like against mine.
Ostanha, spare me. I need to keep my resolve.
“Why?” he asks.
My brows furrow.
“Why do you want to hear me laugh?”
“Oh …” The question catches me off guard.
“It’s just … the joy on your face. It seems …
infrequent. Sort of priceless, in a way.
” I lower my hands for a moment, gathering my thoughts.
“I’m glad that I can see it though. You look like a different person when you laugh.
Like someone I could’ve—” Could’ve what?
Where was I going with that? I let my hands fall but the unfinished sentence hangs in the air.
“… You could’ve?”
I peer over my shoulder at Chiyo and Osheen.
Chiyo is doubled over at the waist. Has Osheen landed a blow?
My brows begin to rise, but no, Chiyo is laughing so hard that her petite frame shakes.
Osheen stands off to the side, arms crossed.
Their friendship was forged so quickly, so naturally.
The way my friendship with Osheen had been formed.
This … thing with Kilkenny has been quite the contrary.
Rocky from the start. I didn’t trust him at first—now I would gladly fall backward off a cliff knowing he’d be there to catch me.
My breath snags. It’s illogical. I’ve known him for nearly two months, and yet I trust him as much as I trust my best friend.
Perhaps more … My stomach knots at the internal admittance.
When I turn back to Kilkenny, curiosity is still etched into his features. Did I just almost confess that I can imagine him as someone I could’ve made a life with? If we were in different circumstances. If I was … typical.
Gods, I just need to get to the Verge and thank the rebels that saved Taig before moving on with our lives. Whatever that may look like. But I know Kilkenny has another calling.
He’s a hero and I’m a weakling.
“Durvla …”
The name startles me again and I laugh sardonically. “What?”
“Stop thinking so hard. I have my shields up, and yet you’re making it very difficult for my mind to stay out of yours.”
I press my hands against my head, and he starts laughing again.
“Your hands aren’t going to do a thing to keep your thoughts hidden,” he signs. His laughter is so contagious that I can’t resist joining in. He grins so widely that his eyes disappear and, gods damn me, it’s so endearing.
“I’m glad I can hear your laughter,” he says.
My smile falters and I want to tell him that I know for a fact that my laughter is atrocious. I snort, without fail, whenever I giggle even remotely hard.
“It’s beautiful.” The smile slowly fades from his lips, replaced by an intensity that causes flutters deep in my belly.
My heart kicks and my breath hitches as his face draws closer to mine and his gaze drifts down to my mouth.
His face is so close. I want his lips on mine.
Eagerness rolls off him in thick waves, mirroring my own sudden impatience.
The implications no longer matter to me. I want this. Whatever this is.
A shadow appears in my peripheral vision. Sword drawn, Kilkenny jumps to his feet so quickly, it’s a wonder he doesn’t knock me over.
But it’s Alys. Just Alys, her eyes wide with surprise, her salt-and-pepper hair peeking out from beneath her headscarf. “I am so very sorry to interrupt. I just came to claim my supper.”
I glance between the two of them—Kilkenny with his sword still drawn, Alys with amusement written all over her face.
It’s such a sight that I burst out laughing.
I feel the snort as it happens and I groan, making a face.
Kilkenny smirks at me as he sheaths his sword again.
He doesn’t speak into my mind, but I swear I can read his. I’m glad I can hear your laughter.
It doesn’t take the fire to warm me all over again.