Guilt blossomed in Gib’s stomach. He knew he and Nage wouldn’t be judged so harshly—or Kezra either for that matter—but all he could think of were Hasain’s arrogant words in the hallway only moments before he’d entered the room. The young Radek lord had been so condescending and cruel. Still, it was unfair for Gib to vent his frustrations on Diddy. “I’m sorry. I know what you meant.”
Diddy opened his mouth to speak but stopped when the large door opened again. This time Tarquin and an older man with dark hair stepped through. No introductions needed to be made. The man was clearly Tarquin’s father; they looked exactly the same except for their coloring. Tarquin’s white blond hair and ivory skin must have been inherited from his mother.
Diddy was once again a prince, taller, intimidating, and perfectly reserved. “Greetings, Councilor Joaquin Aldino and Lord Tarquin Aldino.”
Tarquin and his father both bowed low and made their greetings, and once Diddy had commanded them to rise, Tarquin’s father went to join the other grown men across the room.
Tarquin wrung his hands as he looked around the arena with wide eyes. “I never dreamed I’d be here.” He turned a full circle. “Imagine the kings of old training in this very spot—” His voice faded into hushed awe.
Diddy’s smile seemed much more genuine now that the three friends were alone again. “You don’t mind too terribly being taken from your afternoon classes?”
“No!” Tarquin laughed. “To have the honor of training within the palace—” He froze as he looked toward Hasain, the pack of royal guardsmen, and the other adults. “Are they—?”
“They’re here to learn your faces,” the prince explained for the second time since Gib had arrived. A rueful smile stole across his lips. “I was instructed to pretend they weren’t here at all.”
Gib snorted. “The guards? Who could ignore them?”
Tarquin gave him a confused glance, his face a flustered shade of pink. “N–no. I meant—”
“Stand at attention!”
The Weapons Master’s voice rang clearly off the high stone walls and caused all three boys to jump. Roland strode over in full armor with his sword pulled and at the ready. Gib winced. Apparently it was time to begin.
“Tarquin and Gibben, you’ve been chosen from your peers. It is your duty and honor to serve by training with our prince. Lessons will commence at once and henceforth until the King himself determines otherwise.” Roland pointed to a selection of swords on a nearby rack—real, steel swords, not the wooden ones Gib had expected to train with. “This class is no small matter. No mistakes will be tolerated here. Armor up and find the weapon that suits you.” Roland’s smile was wicked and fearsome. “No one leaves the arena until he cries for mercy.”
Gib returned from his lesson at the palace, tunic drenched in sweat and bruises the size of chicken eggs already darkening his skin. His arms and legs were afire despite the cold winter air. Weapons Master Roland had pushed the three boys hard. Even Tarquin and Diddy had been gasping for reprieve by the time the lesson was over. Gib groaned aloud at the prospect of having to return the following day. He’d reminded himself—if only to keep from crawling into a hole in the ground and never coming out—that it was an honor to train in the splendid arena inside the palace walls and in such company as a prince of Arden. He was supposed to be grateful for the beating he’d endured.
By the time Gib bathed and ate dinner, his muscles ached so terribly that all he wanted to do was curl up on his mattress and sleep. As it was though, the sentinel trainee hadn’t worked on his studies since returning to Academy and with an exam looming in his Ardenian Law class, Gib knew rest would have to wait.
Forsaking his warm bed, the sentinel trainee went to his desk instead and began to read. It was hard to focus on the words with so many thoughts running through his head. Despite the assurance that every necessary precaution was being taken, Gib couldn’t help the feeling of terror in his gut. The assassin who attacked King Rishi hadn’t been found—how could everyone be so confident no second attempt to take the King’s life would occur?
A faint scratching noise at the door caught Gib’s attention and the irrational fear that somehow the assassin had come for Gib raced through his mind. The sentinel trainee’s head shot up, brown eyes wide, any number of awful scenarios traversing his thoughts. What if the assassin figures out I provided Seneschal Koal and the other officials with information? What if he comes to shut me up for good?
“Gib? Are you all right?”
Joel’s tender voice brought Gib back to his senses. The older boy was standing in the doorway like a beacon of light in the middle of the night, a pillar of strength among the chaos. His raven hair shimmered in the candlelight and his eyes were as bright as a cloudless summer sky. Gib’s breath caught in his throat. He’d never wanted—no, needed—Joel more than right now.
Gib forced his lips to move. “I’m okay. It’s been a long day.” His heart hammered in his chest as he watched the mage trainee sweep into the room. Daya, I need to tell him. I’ve kept this a secret for too long. Joel’s smile was wistful as he closed the door, sliding the bolt into place. The click of the lock was like thunder in Gib’s ear. Alone. We’re alone. I’ll never have a better chance than now—
“It’s been a long day for both of us,” Joel replied. “I’m sure you can imagine the gossip I had to endure in my classes today. I suppose I should be grateful I wasn’t the topic of discussion for once, but—being son of the seneschal has its disadvantages. Everyone kept expecting me to know what was going on. You should have heard some of the questions I was being asked.” Joel flopped down onto his bed with a sigh. “How was your day? Was the royal palace everything you dreamed it would be?”
Gib groaned. He welcomed the light conversation despite his heavy, tumultuous thoughts. “Let me tell you about that. Or I could just save my breath and show you the bruises.”
Joel laughed as he rolled onto his side, propping himself up by the elbow. “I take it Master Roland was hard on you?”
“It was worse than group class.”
“You should know many students would gladly pay for that kind of one-on-one attention from the Weapons Master.”
Gib’s eyebrows creased as he contemplated Joel’s words. “I would have to say such students are insane.”
Light laughter echoed off the walls. “Perhaps they are.” Joel cleared his throat pointedly as he sat up on his bed. “How was Didier faring when you saw him this afternoon?”
Gib could feel the mage trainee’s eyes. “Given the circumstances, Diddy seemed to be okay. He was happy to see me and Tarquin.” Gib sighed, closing the book he hadn’t really been studying anyway, and went to his own bed. “That doesn’t change the fact that I’ve been worried about him all damn day. I’m worried about his entire family.” Gib rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve been so stressed.”
Joel frowned and immediately rose to his feet, crossing the space between their beds. He sat next to Gib and gave him a gentle tap on the shoulder. “Hey, I know you’re afraid for Diddy and the others, but it will be all right. You need to try to get some sleep tonight. I’m sure you’re tired.”
Gib nodded. “I’m exhausted, but—” He bit his lip as he carefully debated his next words. Yes, he was worried sick about the safety of the royal family, but in this moment, all he wanted to do was share the truth about the way he felt about Joel. Goddesses, give me strength. Gib let out a stifled breath of air. “There is something I need to say to you.” With uncertain, shaking fingers, Gib reached out to take hold of the other boy’s hands.
Joel started to pull away, to retreat into his shell of indifference and isolation, but this time Gib had anticipated it and was ready. He tightened his grip around his roommate’s hands before he could escape. “Wait.”
Joel stiffened his shoulders, panic flittering across his beautiful face. “Gib, I—uh—”
“Talk to me, Joel,” Gib pressed, before his courage abandoned him. “I can’t
keep pretending like there’s nothing going on between us.”
The mage trainee’s voice was weak. “O–oh, if this is about what Nawaz said after the Midwinter feast, I already said his behavior was less than appropriate and I’m sorry—”
“Nawaz spoke the truth. He was right about everything.”
Joel paled. “The truth about what?”
“Us. You and me.” Gib’s voice threatened to catch in his throat. He shut his eyes, willing his nerves to settle. “You’re my best friend, Joel. But it’s not enough. Not anymore. I–it’s time I tell you exactly how I feel.”
“What do you feel, Gib?” Joel asked, his voice a silken whisper.
“I–I feel—” Gib paused for a gasp of air. “I feel like you’re the most wonderful, caring person in the world. I want to be around you, hear your laughter, see your smile. When you’re near, I’m not alone in this giant, frightening place that is so different from everything I’ve ever known. I’m not afraid of what dangers might befall us or our friends—you give me hope that everything will work out the way it’s supposed to. And you make me feel—whole, complete. I’ve realized who I am and it’s because of you.” Gib dared to reach forward and touch his fingers to the older boy’s onyx locks.
The sentinel trainee’s heart leapt in his chest when Joel raised his own hand to cup the side of Gib’s face in a tentative way. “I—you—I feel—” All of Joel’s graceful mannerisms seemed to have abandoned him in that moment. His voice was timid, even shy. “I feel the same, Gib.” The mage trainee brushed an unruly curl away from Gib’s cheek, hand trembling against Gib’s skin.
Joel’s lips were so close, so soft and inviting. “I want to kiss you,” Gib murmured, leaning closer. He could feel Joel’s hot, jagged breath.
“I’m scared,” replied the older boy, voice shaking as surely as his hands.
“I’d never hurt you.”
Joel’s eyes were clouded and his chest was heaving. “I know that, but I—I don’t want you to get hurt either.”
Gib frowned, not understanding. It seemed a silly thing for Joel to even suggest. “I know you’d never hurt me.”
“If—if we—are to be more than just friends, I can’t protect you from the rest of the world. I can’t stop the rumors, the unkind words, the sideways glances. People are cruel, Gib. You must know the consequences of this decision. You’ll be labeled forever. I don’t want you to regret it after it’s too late. People will never forget.”
Gib shook his head adamantly. “This is who I am. I’m the same as you, Joel. You speak of me regretting this decision—well I will sooner regret continuing to pretend I don’t feel this way about you. I want this.” Joel tried to look away, but Gib slipped his hand beneath the mage trainee’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet. “I don’t care what people think. This is what I want. I want you.”
Joel’s eyes were wide with unmasked emotion. His lips parted—he might have even whispered some kind of garbled, indecipherable response—but it was all lost to the sentinel trainee as Joel leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Gib’s. Oh Gods.
Gib returned the kiss as though his life depended upon it. All the confusion, all the sorrow, all the fear—every last bit of it drained from his body like an open wound that was finally beginning to heal. In that instant, the only thing that mattered was the present. The now. And right now he and Joel were kissing. Gib squeezed his eyes closed, lost in the moment.
Joel’s lips were as soft as silk and tasted of sweet despair. Gib deepened the kiss, searching for a place where he could find a trace of the proud, confident boy Gib knew was hidden inside, suppressed by harsh words and unfair judgments. It wasn’t fair—everything the young highborn had endured—but he no longer had to face the world alone.
Gib’s eyes fluttered open as the older boy ended the kiss. Joel was staring at Gib, handsome features lined with uncertainty. The mage trainee suddenly looked so young and vulnerable. He clutched Gib’s face as though fearing he might flutter away like the end of a wonderful reverie.
“I—I fear this is a dream.” Joel’s words were hushed.
“If it’s a dream,” Gib replied, pausing to touch his lips to the mage trainee’s forehead. “Then we can dream together.”
Joel’s eyes brimmed with tears. “You are too wonderful, Gibben Nemesio. I don’t—I don’t even know what to say—” His voice cracked, and he lowered his face.
Gib stroked the older boy’s hair, running fingers through silky, raven waves, smoothing the strands which refused to lay flat. The younger boy parted his lips, meaning to offer words of comfort, but Joel’s stark crystal eyes stole away the words with just a single glance. With gentle caresses, Gib rested a hand against Joel’s cheek, wiping away the single tear which had formed in the corner of the mage trainee’s eye.
Joel leaned into the touch, his own voice silenced by the weight of the emotions they both were feeling. He let out a sobbing gasp before his entire body crumbled against the sentinel trainee. Gib held the older boy as he cried, offering gentle words and soothing touches. Joel rested his face against Gib’s neck, tears streaming down and pooling on the front of the younger boy’s tunic.
Time seemed to stand still. Gib wasn’t sure how long they sat together, but when Joel next spoke, the candles had burned low. The mage trainee raised his head. His face was red and stained by tears, but the crushing despair that once clouded his eyes was gone. Now his sapphire orbs sparkled with renewed hope.
“My heart—it finally feels at peace. You’ve brought so much happiness into my life,” Joel whispered. He took Gib’s hands. “That is why I didn’t want to say anything. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. I couldn’t be sure if you felt the same way, and I couldn’t risk losing you. You know what happened the last time—”
Gib leaned forward to rest his forehead against the older boy’s. “I’m not going anywhere and I won’t ever abandon you. I promise.”
“As do I.” Joel’s smile was agonizingly beautiful as he caressed the sentinel trainee’s hands. “I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather face the world with, Gibben Nemesio. You are one of the most compassionate, bravest people I’ve ever met and—I cherish you.”
Gib parted his lips, meaning to reply, but his words fell by the wayside when their mouths locked together once again. Electrifying emotion surged through his body as they shared another kiss, and somehow—despite the many challenges facing him—Gib knew everything was going to be all right.
Chapter Ten
Three days later Liza paid Gib a visit. His relationship was still so new and he was in such a fog that he barely heard the light tap on the door. Even as he went to let Liza inside, the sentinel trainee’s thoughts kept drifting back to Joel.
Chhaya’s bane, I haven’t been able to focus. What is wrong with me? He’d never experienced such emotions before. An intoxicating sense of euphoria would overwhelm him each time he and Joel touched. It was even more exhilarating when they kissed. Gib blushed every time as he promptly melted into a sappy, love-struck mess, unable to catch a breath of air or think of anything witty to say. Joel would laugh in response. His light and flirtatious chuckles did nothing but cause Gib’s knees to tremble—
Stop. Focus. Gib sat down, his head clouded. “I’ve missed you, Liza.”
“How are things going with your roommate—Joel, is it?” Liza asked as she closed the door. The question was innocent, yet almost immediately heat rushed to Gib’s cheeks at the mention of the mage trainee’s name.
Motioning for Liza to take a seat, Gib replied, “That’s right. Joel Adelwijn. Son of—”
“Seneschal Koal,” his sister finished. Liza chuckled as she sat on the edge of his bed. “I didn’t forget that part. Who would have thought my little brother would be roomed with the son of the second most powerful man in all of Arden?”
Gib wrung his hands. “Joel is wonderful. He’s my best friend.” The sentinel trainee dared to meet his sister’s questioning gaze. The truth was ch
urning inside his stomach, begging to be told, but Gib bit his tongue. He wasn’t sure if Joel wanted their relationship to be known by anyone else. Gib cleared his throat. “Any word from Tay and Cal?” he asked, directing the conversation elsewhere.
“Yes. That’s part of the reason I’m here.” Liza reached into a pouch clinging to her belt and pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment. “I got this from the boys yesterday morning.”
Gib took the paper into his hands at once and unfolded it. He recognized Tayver’s handwriting immediately, and if Gib wasn’t mistaken, his brother’s penmanship was more crisp than it had been the previous summer. Was Tayver getting lessons? Gib focused on the words, hoping his younger brother had fair news to report.
Dearest Liza,
The Fadells have been kind to us. During the snowstorm, they shared their Midwinter Feast. Sorry you and Gib were not able to come home. Me and Cal miss you. I want to come to the city in the summer and live there. I’m old enough now to do apprentice work so I won’t be in your way. I’ve been practicing my writing at the temple and the priests say I’m better at reading than any of the other children here. It is really hard for me and Cal to run the farm without you and Gib. Altair has said that Cal can stay on his farm and be a hand until he turns thirteen. I think it is time to let the farm go. Life is taking us all in different directions and I think Pa would have agreed. Please write us soon.
May the Two bless you,
Tayver
Gib handed the letter back to Liza, knitting his eyebrows. “Huh.”
“That’s Tayver for you—blunt as always.” Liza chuckled. She gave Gib a gentle pat on his shoulder. “If anything was seriously wrong, he would have said so. Though it does give us some things to think about.”
Gib nodded, worried for his brothers. This winter had been kind to them. But luck could be devious and theirs was certain to run out sooner than later. “Tayver is right, Liza,” he stated. “With both of us in Silver, we can’t maintain the farm. Tay and Cal can’t do it by themselves either. I think—I think it’s time to sell the farm.” It was hard to admit, even to himself. All he’d wanted to do was make his father proud by keeping the farm afloat and now everything seemed to be falling apart.
A Call to Arms: Book One of the Chronicles of Arden Page 24
