Hatam-Ile, 6th of Ninthmoon 3045
It was halfway through the first week of Ninthmoon when Ren’i donned his half-plate armour for the first time in a month and assumed his spot next to the captain and the consuls. The endlessly falling rain ran down the helmet and the bridge of his nose as they kept an eye on the proceeding war practice. The weight of the armour felt alien on his shoulders, that of the sword even more so. The captain could see it in him and trained him with the Guards, out of common soldiers’ sight, until he was satisfied that Ren’i was ready to assume his position of leadership once more.
A steady trickle of akheri volunteers came from all corners of the Hytherlands, Hatam-Ile included. Ren’i had known to expect them after holding counsel with the elders, but could not help the sense of relief he felt upon witnessing them with his own eyes. Already they were counted in the thousands. He walked among the ranks, eyeing them carefully and pausing to correct their stances every now and them, and did some calculations.
They were all soaked once the morning practice concluded and Ren’i ordered his brass to a meeting. His gaze travelled from one dripping face to another, setting down a stack of letters bearing the imperial seal on top of the map. He’d wanted to write them himself instead of dictating them, disregarding the smudges, misspellings and letters that had switched places, for he’d wanted the message to be in his own handwriting to the very end. His personal signature, followed by a long litany of titles, adorned each letter. A deep silence settled in the tent after Qel read one of them out loud.
”This is in direct violation of the empress’s instructions, your highness,” Kha’ar pointed out. ”Only the 5th legion was to be at your disposal.”
”The empress is in Hol Saro, we are here. You know as well as I do that the situation has changed. We need all the reinforcements we can get.” Ren’i considered them with a serious look on his face. ”Send out the messengers at once. I want the 9th and the 10th legions on the move as soon as their consuls have received my orders.”
There was an inquisitive look on Vannuil’s face that bordered on curious. ”You’re planning to resist a direct order from the empress.” It was not a question but a statement.
”Orders aren’t what matter the most in war, consul Vannuil,” Ren’i answered. ”My most important mission as the commander-in-chief is to ensure the southern borders holds and the Liqaris will not breach it, and I will see to that, even if it means breaking each and every order I’ve been given.”
”You do know your decision comes with consequences?”
”All decisions do. War is a matter of life and death. I can worry about the consequences after we’ve won this thing first.”
They all stood watching him for a long time. Finally, Vannuil placed both of her hands on her breastplate and bowed smoothly. The others followed suit.
”Let’s get to work then, gentlemen,” she said. Though she wasn’t smiling Ren’i saw the unvoiced approval in her eyes. ”We’ve no time to waste.”
The rain did nothing to slow down the Kishans’ practice, quite the opposite. The exhaustion of the dry season and the heat was gone. They were raised in the rain-whipped north, and the change in conditions worked in their favour.
The parched Meril-An plains had turned verdant in a week. Water babbled in the brooks, and the dense grass was slippery underneath the fresh rookies’ heels as Ren’i and his consuls watched their first steps with the broadsword, the shield and the spear. Newcomers came daily, sometimes in the dozens, often in the hundreds. Each and everyone of them was outfitted with the white civilian garb, the very same that taivashi rookies in the northern barracks started their service in, and for the first time since leaving Hol Saro Ren’i felt the familiar swell of pride within himself.
The taivashi and the akheri side by side, driven by the same goal and desire. Just a year ago the mere thought of it had been unheard of. Ren’i had feared the war would only deepen the existing rifts among the people, as all great ordeals had a tendency of doing, and there was no ordeal greater than war.
”Sometimes the opposite happens,” Ared said when Ren’i entrusted these thoughts to him while they observed the consuls pairing up akheri rookies and more experienced Kishan soldiers. According to akheri tradition a chief could not bear arms, but he came to watch the practice whenever his duties allowed it. ”There are times when shared tribulations bring people together instead.”
Ren’i could not help smiling. His eyes found the familiar faces of Blueleaf, Denae and Moonstone in the crowd with ease as they sparred with Sava, Linnee and Yurau. The others had made their journey home with fewer injuries than Ren’i and Hawk. Ren’i had only had the chance to exchange very few words with them after his return, but he knew what Ared meant. He trusted them all and they him, because they’d all been together, had all gone through the same he had.
”I’ll have a look around,” he told Ared.
He walked between the ranks, careful to stay more than a sword’s reach away from the soldiers at work. Blueleaf nodded to him when Ren’i passed them and Sava. At the other end of the line Dewdrop parried a young taivashi soldier’s strikes with faltering grace, her face grim with concentration.
”You two, stop,” Ren’i told Dewdrop and her partner. ”Dewdrop, your stance is much too wide. Try to stand with your feet shoulder-width apart, one foot behind the other. Let me show you.”
He borrowed her partner’s practice sword and shield and positioned himself opposite of Dewdrop, assuming an offensive stance. ”The shield arm should stay against your side at all times, protecting your midriff. You don’t need to move the shield to block each incoming attack, that’s what the sword’s for.”
”I thought it’s just meant for hurting the opponent.”
”On the whole yes, but defending yourself takes priority. You cannot attack if the enemy kills you before you even get the chance to try. Remember that a sword is not just a weapon – it’s a tool, a tool much more nimble than the shield when it comes to reacting to your enemy’s movements. Try to attack me. Use the foot on your sword-hand side to move and let the other follow and maintain your balance.” Ren’i parried Dewdrop’s strikes calmly with practised ease using his sword, each movement executed with pronounced care. ”Enough. You see how I’m utilising the sword to block your attacks?”
Dewdrop nodded.
”The idea is to use the enemy’s momentum to divert their attacks. It saves your own strength – let the enemy tire themself instead of you. The more force behind the attack, the more likely they are to get thrown off balance, granting you a chance to strike back.”
Dewdrop smiled wryly. ”I think I get what you’re getting at.”
Ren’i handed the equipment back to the other soldier. ”Let’s take it from the beginning. Get back in your positions – at the ready – start!” Ren’i stepped back and watched them without blinking. ”Keep your back straight! Shield close to your body! Follow the motions of the sword – good! Utilise the full length of the blade for parrying or you’re leaving gaps in your defense!”
Many others around them had paused to listen, and Ren’i spent the next hour going from one pair to another, instructing and correcting common mistakes as he went, answering questions to the best of his ability. Quite a few of the akheris were in good shape, Ren’i noted, and much quicker on their reflexes than the average soldier, and it wasn’t to just akheris he directed his instructions. There were many reserve soldiers in the 5th legion, many of which had only ever served in the city guard for Kara, Hol Saro or other smaller northern cities, far away from real battles, and they heeded his advice with the same care as their akheri partners did.
Vannuil and Qel kept an eye on him even as they carried on with their own teaching. The look on captain Hamr’s face was even more sullen than usual while he watched Ren’i, who had no trouble guessing why. The captain found the crown prince’s personal participation in training the newcomers unfitting for his rank, something he’d not hesitated to express a countless times over the past years. In Hol Saro he did not have enough power to object should Ren’i’s decisions displease him, but it didn’t prevent them from arguing about it every few years. Now that the consuls were involved in the Hytherlands their positions had changed. Hamr far outranked them as leader of the crown prince’s Guard of Honour, despite the humble title of captain, and he could tell the consuls to prevent Ren’i’s meddling in their duties should he ever want to.
All Ren’i could do was feign confidence and hope the captain trusted his judgment.
A downpour brought the training to a halt. Ren’i had only just changed into a dry outfit when Sava’s familiar voice greeted him outside the tent.
”There’s a visitor for you, your highness.”
Ren’i sighed internally and prayed the visitor wasn’t Hamr. ”Let them in.”
Someone parted the flap of the tent and the guest stepped in, water trailing down his beard in rivulets. Ren’i grinned upon seeing Onniar.
”Well, hello there, teacher,” he greeted and pretended to bow. ”You’re just a tad bit on the damp side, if I may say so. To what do I owe this unusual honour?”
Onniar mopped his face. Umbrellas weren’t a common sight in Hatam-Ile, but akheris treated their outdoor clothing with beeswax to keep leather and cloth alike dry. Onniar didn’t seem to care for such matters and went around in the same clothes as usual, come rain or shine.
”Just thought it’d be polite to pay you a visit. Our training got interrupted after the summer festival and I haven’t had the chance to check how my apprentice is doing.”
Ren’i’s face fell. He’d not had time to think about his agreement with Onniar after the elders had agreed to cooperate with the army. ”My apologies. It’s been a bit hectic here.”
”There’s no need to apologise,” Onniar assured him, an amused tone to his voice. ”Are you busy today?”
”Hardly. We just finished today’s practice and there’s no need for meetings until the messengers return from Meril-An.” Ren’i was quiet for a moment. He fiddled with his towel and asked, eyes firmly on the ground, ”how’s Hawk?”
He’d not seen Hawk after he had stayed to rest at the elder’s house. Hawk was already gone, despite Mineha’s disapproval, when Ren’i had returned to the house for a meeting the following evening. Some side of him had hoped to see him among the newcomers – Ren’i’s eyes had sought him every day as new groups arrived – yet everytime the disappointment stung just as deep. Hawk’s absence was a vague, tangled knot in his insides that refused to unravel, and it worsened every day that passed.
The smile Onniar flashed him made Ren’i feel like the huntsmaster could see right through him, which was quite likely the case.
”That’s actually kind of why I’m here,” he said, and Ren’i felt his heart skip a beat. The worry must have shown on his face, for Onniar hastened to say, ”he’s fine, just sulking now that he’s not allowed to hunt. His leg will recover so long as he has the sense to avoid overexterting himself.”
”That’s a lot to ask with him.”
Onniar laughed. ”Nightsong and Silverbrook have helped me keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t overdo it. You know what he’s like.” He scratched at his messy beard. ”Some light training would still benefit him. A mere bow might not be enough once the Liqaris get here.”
”He already told me once he has no plans to enlist, and I’m not stupid enough to try and persuade him,” Ren’i said dryly, which made Onniar laugh again.
”Fear not. I wasn’t about to suggest that.”
”Then what do you have in mind?”
”Something less formal.” There was a cunning look on the huntsmaster’s face. ”He doesn’t need to enlist just to learn some self-defense just in case, does he?”
”So you want me to teach him? He’s not going to like that one bit, you know.”
Onniar winked. ”He doesn’t need to like it.”
”I’m younger than him,” Ren’i reminded him.
”That doesn’t matter. There’s something you ougth to know about akheri teaching methods. The teacher is not the only one to train their apprentices. We let them train each other based on their individual strengths. Everyone benefits when we all share our knowledge with each other, regardless of skill level… or age, for that matter.
A smile tugged at the corners of Ren’i’s mouth as he understood. ”I think I get it. An apprentice shouldn’t question the wise decisions of his teacher, should he?”
Onniar grinned.
The downpour started every day around noon and lasted for some hours. For the army, those hours were spent eating and resting, and Ren’i arranged himself and his guest some tea and something small to eat while they waited it out. When the rain had slowed to a steady drizzle they trudged towards Hatam-Ile, arms laden with equipment. Two spears, two shields, practice swords, belts and sheathes. Ren’i had changed into an ordinary one-sleeved tunic, dark trousers and waterproof boots, leaving all his protective gear in the tent. He was not there as a soldier but a fellow student, like Onniar had reminded him, and it needed to show.
The rain had wiped the circle of the nine moons in the square clean of sand. Moisture had sunk deep in the stone and darkened it, revealing every detail, every line of the carving and rendering it brand new. Canopies of cloth in bright, sunny colours had been built on the square and locals sat beneath them, disregarding what little rain occasionally managed to ooze through the canvas. Children were the only ones to shriek when the odd drop fell under someone’s collar.
The River of Mists surged and roiled as they crossed the bridge. Moisture had left the wood slippery, and Ren’i felt slightly ridiculous as he waddled across flat-footed as a duck in an attempt to stay upright.
The rains had transformed the woodlands on the other bank entirely. The once dry bushes were covered with thick, sticky leaves, and lush vines fell down from the trees, covered by the tiniest white and yellow flowers. What surprised him most, however, was that every inch seemed covered with something in full bloom, and there were only a handful that he recognised. The faded desert landscape was gone – life and colours were bursting from everywhere, as though something had magically breathed life into the sleeping nature.
Even the cottage had turned green. The roof that Ren’i had assumed was covered in peat turned out to be moss, soaking up all the moisture and growing threefold in size. There were arctic starflowers and clusters of small fungi sticking up from the moss, and lichen had formed on surface of the logs. Like this the cottage looked rather cozy in its own way, Ren’i thought.
Onniar tried the door and knocked when it didn’t open. ”Oi, Hawk. Open the door if you’re in there.”
Oh, he’s there all right, Ren’i thought privately, but said nothing.
He laid down their things on the bench and sat down to wait. He was quite sure that Hawk could sense his presence just as clearly as Ren’i sensed his, for it took a long while before the sound of footfalls approached the door. Onniar knocked again.
”I heard you the first time. Be quiet,” Hawk’s voice answered behind the door.
”Open the door, then,” Onniar told him.
Ren’i could almost picture the surly look on Hawk’s face, though not even a sliver of light penetrated the curtains pulled in front of the window. The thought made him smile for some reason.
The door creaked open. Hawk didn’t bother with greetings. Instead he demanded in low tones, ”why is he here?”
”Hello to you too,” Onniar said. ”Put on a shirt. I don’t want you freezing yourself during the practice.”
”What practice?”
”The practice you’re about to have right now. Get some clothes on and come out.”
The door slammed shut with force. Ren’i heard Hawk muttering to himself behind the wall and the occasional clunk as he shifted things around. Ren’i had partially expected him to lock the door and refuse to come out, but a few minutes later the door opened again and Hawk stepped out.
”Well?” he grunted, throwing a sideways glance at Ren’i and Onniar, who had sat down next to Ren’i as they waited.
Ren’i tried not to stare at Hawk too closely. He had shaved and there were still shadows beneath his brown eyes that spoke of nights of little sleep, but he had started to regain some of the weight he’d lost. Seeing him walk normally came as a relief.
Onniar took a drag off his pipe. ”I thought you’d both benefit from some light training.”
Hawk squinted as he spied the equipment piled on the bench. ”I already said I wasn’t interested.”
”Soldier or not, there may soon come a time when we all might need to defend ourselves and our homes,” Onniar carried on, tone so casual that he might have been discussing the weather, the pipe waggling between his teeth. ”You saw the enemy we’ll be facing with your own eyes. Could be a simple bow won’t be enough to keep them at bay.”
”It has been enough so far.”
”Not against the masses that are marching here.” Onniar sobered and exhaled an entire cloud of smoke. ”One of Ren’i’s soldiers – I don’t know their name, that dark fellow with the braids – allowed Ared show the whole council what they’d seen. A shortbow won’t be of much use to you if all Liqaris aren’t as poorly equipped as the lot you faced.”
Hawk sighed. The tone in his old teacher’s voice told him there was no way out. Though he was almost certain Onniar was up to something, there was also no denying the logic in what he was saying. That’s just what he was like: there was always some blindingly obvious reason to whatever he wanted Hawk to do that protesting just made Hawk look stupid. In his youth he’d often made a fool of himself trying to talk his way out of whatever task he’d thought useless, and he’d learned his lesson.
He stood still and tried not to see the satisfied look on Onniar’s face when Ren’i handed him a belt. Hawk struggled to maintain his poker face as Ren’i stepped behind him and buckled the belt around his waist.
”Just so you know, this wasn’t my idea, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Ren’i mumbled by his ear. Ren’i’s breath tickled against Hawk’s neck, which made heat rush to his face. Onniar coughed and Ren’i went on in a more carrying voice, ”it has to be tight enough that the weight of the scabbard doesn’t pull it all the way down to your knees. There. Are you left-handed or right-handed?
”Left,” Hawk replied.
”Likewise. Good, that makes this easier. Okay, so, the scabbard hangs from that ring – good, just like that. It needs to hang far back enough that it’s not in your way.”
Ren’i’s hands rested on Hawk’s hips no longer than the fraction of a second, but even that could have been an eternity. Hawk swallowed. He’d thought, had half-hoped, that avoiding Ren’i and keeping to himself (he refused to use the word ’hiding’) would help clear his head. If it had, it was all undone the moment Ren’i touched him. One week apart and Hawk felt like he couldn’t breathe around him.
The nine moons be damned, he’d lost his mind.
Ren’i’s sword arm throbbed after several days of repeated training, but he barely noticed it. Aches and hurts were so integrated to his daily life that he’d learned to shrug them off. All nervousness vanished from his face as soon as he’d affixed the belt and unsheathed the sword. It was replaced by the same calm that he assumed in front of the council and his Guard time and again.
”Let us begin,” he told Hawk. ”The Kishan sword is a one-hander. We’ll start without shields and cover the basics of handling a sword.”
Hawk saw the change in his posture, heard it in his voice. Even without the plate armour he was a soldier down to his fingertips the second he touched his sword.
The drizzle has ceased, but the dark clouds hanging overhead brought no relief to the cold and humid air. Ren’i did not let him off easy. He circled around Hawk, correcting even the smallest errors in his posture. After the first couple of times Hawk no longer started when Ren’i placed his hand on his shoulder and corrected him.
”Keep your neck and back straight,” Ren’i repeated. ”You’ll just hurt yourself like that. We’ll take it from the beginning again – five repetitions, back in position, five again, back in position. Okay, that’s better.”
Hawk was already drenched in sweat by the time Ren’i pronounced himself satisfied and handed him one of the shields, bearing the imperial lilac coat of arms carved on the front. It was heavier than it looked. Hawk had his work cut out for him trying to keep his arm still while the sword arm attempted to match the pace of Ren’i’s practice attacks.
”Mind your footwork!” Ren’i shouted when the strike of his sword forced Hawk to back off. ”Don’t just stand there and stare! Staying on the move in direct combat is a matter of life and death!”
Hawk gritted his teeth and put his entire strength behind every counter attack. He knew he’d feel the strain in his arms the next morning. Ren’i showed him no mercy though he was a beginner, and Hawk did not ask him to, either. He’d seen the fury with which demons fought, Liqaris and Kishans alike. There was no chance but to answer fire with fire.
The switched parts, then equipment and moved on to spears. Onnier just smoked his pipe and watched them without interrupting them. When Ren’i finally declared they’d made enough progress for the day, Onniar appeared from the cottage with steaming cups of tea.
”Stretch and rest properly. We’ll take it from here the day after tomorrow,” Ren’i said after downing his tea in a couple of gulps. He handed the empty cup back to Onniar. ”We might even move on to the longbow next time.”
They decided to leave their equipment to the cottage for the next time. Ren’i started towards Hatam-Ile, humid, hazy air cooling his face. Hawk stared after his figure growing more and more distant until he realised Onniar was watching him, expression decidedly neutral. Hawk went back in the cottage without saying a word and left the huntsmaster to smoke alone.
The sound of surging water merged with Ren’i’s confused thoughts and left a throbbing at his temples. It would turn into a fullblown migraine by nightfall, he knew that from experience. He was only jolted out of his thoughts on the square when a voice called out to him.
”Ren’i! Oi, Ren’i!”
Ared stood on the steps of the elder’s house, a thick shawl around his shoulders. The chief’s cloak was gone and the damp air had made the loose strands of hair that had escaped his braids curl. Ren’i stopped at the foot of the stairs and tried to wipe his sweaty palms on his trousers as discreetly as possible.
”Do you have a moment?” Ared asked.
”Of course. Has something changed with tomorrow’s meeting?”
”No, no, nothing like that.” He seemed to be choosing his words with care; his expression told Ren’i nothing. ”There’s a certain matter I’ve been wanting to discuss with you in private. Come in, please.”
Ren’i followed him in the house, puzzled. Ared did not lead him to the empty meeting room, but instead one of the rooms in the second floor that the elders used for their breaks during council meetings. There was an akheri style hearth and an oven, chairs, benches and cushions, small dining tables, even a quiet alcove for napping. The room was empty and all its lanterns doused. Ren’i was even more astonished when Ared beckoned for him to enter and shut the door after them.
”Is this something serious?” Ren’i asked a touch uncertainly. ”It might be wise to have my consuls here to listen.”
Ared flashed him a lopsided smile. ”In this case it might better they’re not present. This is something of a personal matter. Sit down.”
The shower that washed over the city every evening had started drumming against the roof. Ared set down a teapot and two large mugs on one of the low tables. They sat down on the cushions opposite of each other, Ren’i squirming until he found a reasonably comfortable position. Ared wrapped the shawl more tightly around himself, all three braids falling over his shoulder. He looked very official and determined all of a sudden.
”I’m here as a representative of my family, not as chief. Usually the concerned parties would handle these matters in private without a mediator, but since you’re not an akheri we can’t really rely on custom.” He paused, smile widening at the perplexed look on Ren’i’s face. ”I bet you have zero idea what I’m talking about.”
”To be completely frank, no.”
”Let me get to the point, then.” Ared cleared his throat. ”Are you going to tell Hawk about your feelings?”
Ren’i almost dropped his mug. ”Excuse me?”
Ared just smiled. ”You needn’t be shy. I know you and my cousin have confessed one another.”
”We have what?”
”Confessed. Do you recall what we talked about at the summer festival?”
Ren’i could not stop staring at him, feeling how the buzzing in his head reached an all new crescendo. Yes, he recalled the festival, recalled the wine, the dancing, recalled arguing with Hawk, Nightsong and Silverbrook on each other’s arms, and felt colour flooding his face when he finally understood what Ared had said. Disconnected bits of a partially forgotten conversation with him came to him unbidden.
The mug in Ren’i’s hands shook and he set it down on the table with so much force that most of the tea spilled over.
”I’m sorry if this came out of nowhere. I wasn’t quite sure if you’d realised it yourself yet,” Ared said, his voice compassionate.
”Confessed,” Ren’i repeated. The word felt strange on his tongue. ”You mean that Hawk and I are…”
Ared was still smiling. ”Usually the signs start soon after the soulmates have met. Vague restlessness, trouble sleeping, an inexplicable sense of waiting that seems to have no logical explanation…” He looked at Ren’i meaningfully, grinning so broadly that his sharp teeth flashed. ”A sense of the other’s presence, whether they’re near you or not.”
Ren’i felt all air pushing out of his lungs.
Each and every look, word and touch between himself and Hawk in the past month repeated in his mind over and over at increasing speed, and something finally clicked in place. Yes, he’d certainly realised a long time ago that he was attracted to Hawk, but… In the name of all Eight gods. How was he this blind to his own feelings?
He blushed up to his hairline.
”Ren’i,” Ared said, emphasising his name. ”Do you like him?”
Ren’i managed to nod, though his head could have been filled with lead.
”I do.”
A lot.
Way too much.
In a myriad ways he was too embarrassed to put into words.
”You sound uncertain.”
Ren’i could only barely meet Ared’s eyes. ”You know who I am.”
”I do, yes.”
”Well, see… There are certain complicating matters. The heir to the throne is rarely allowed to choose his own spouse.”
Ared’s brows furrowed. It made him resemble Hawk so much momentarily that Ren’i felt the urge to flee the scene at once. ”So you were just planning on not telling him at all?”
”That’s not what I said!” Ren’i said in a rush. ”I just… I hadn’t thought that far. Oh, gods have mercy.” He could feel himself shaking. ”I should have realised. I’m an idiot.”
”I wouldn’t go quite that far. Sometimes it takes time to admit these things to yourself, and considering the circumstances I’d say you’ve had other things in mind, too.”
Ren’i spent a long time staring at his teacup, trying to collect his thoughts once more, but to no avail.
”But how is that even possible?” Ren’i finally managed to ask.
”What do you mean?”
”I’m a taivashi. We don’t have… those.” He couldn’t force himself to say the word ’soulmate’. ”I mean, I’m not one of you,” Ren’i stammered. ”You said yourself that only akheris confess.”
”Well, that’s what they say at least. Who knows if it’s true. Our people are rarely in contact with others and confessions are usually not recorded anywhere. Perhaps there have been other instances before, but no one has bothered writing down any proof of it. Who on Melkem’s soil knows how the threads in the weave have been woven together.”
Ren’i felt something clutching at his throat. He stared at his hands, balled into fists. ”Still. Hawk doesn’t even like me.”
Saying it out loud hurt more than he’d thought, and he finally realised how much he feared it to be true.
”That’s where you’re wrong,” Ared said. ”He may not know how to admit it to himself, but I know him well enough to recognise the signs. The more serious the matter, the more he fights it.”
Ren’i emptied his cup just for an excuse to remain silent. He felt the cogs in his head turning, but no flash of genius came no matter how long he waited. His voice was very small and subdued when he said, ”how did you know? Neither of us has said or done anything whatsoever.”
”Oh, for crying out loud,” Ared sighed. ”Listen, Ren’i, you’re a good leader and I’ve started to think of you as a friend, but you’re awful at hiding your feelings. I doubt anyone has missed the way you two look at each other.”
”Anyone? Does everyone here know?” Ren’i sounded horrified.
All right, he had admitted to himself that Hawk was attractive, had even once or twice entertained himself at night by thinking about his hands and lips on his body, but who wouldn’t have done so in his position? Hawk was proud and brave, and as cold and distant as a comet wandering across the nightsky. Ren’i had thought he’d kept himself in check well enough that the crush didn’t show, but it didn’t keep him from daydreaming.
The look Ared fixed him was almost pitying.
”I was certain about it when I saw you in Mineha’s room, right after you returned from Liqaria. I was actually surprised that neither of you had made no moves regarding the matter.” He shook his head and laughed. ”Hawk is like a brother to me. I know him as well as anyone can ever know another, and I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.”
Something in his tone sparked hope in Ren’i’s heart. He raised his head and asked, ”what should I do?”
”There are many options. What do you want to do?”
He swallowed. ”I don’t know. What if he wants nothing to do with me?”
What if he doesn’t want me? Ren’i added quietly in his mind.
”You cannot force anyone to accept the confession. He has the right to decline,” Ared said. Ren’i jolted as if hit, and he went on in a gentler voice, ”I don’t believe Hawk would choose that path, however. As waters flow down the river, so do the moons follow their orbits. Wait and see, let things unfold naturally. That tends to reap the best results.”