Nightfall: Book Two of the Chronicles of Arden

by Shiriluna Nott

  “Ambassador Cenric Leal? Arden’s prized envoy?” Hasain questioned coldly. “Gentry Leal and his family are of noble rank. What makes you think he’s going to allow a Nessuno to court his daughter?”

  Nage winced, and Joel whipped around to give Hasain a poisonous look. “Perhaps you’ve already forgotten Cenric’s kind heart and open mind. It was only last year when you went on your internship with him, Hasain Radek!”

  “I’m merely stating the truth,” Hasain spat back. “You shouldn’t give your friend false hope. A Nessuno with no name and nothing to offer shouldn’t waste his time pursuing a lady of noble standing.” Dark, critical eyes fell onto Nage, who was having a difficult time looking back. “You’ll likely find yourself with empty hands and a broken heart.”

  With a half-hearted nod, Nage sank a bit farther in the booth. Gib couldn’t watch in silence any longer. He opened his mouth, intent on telling Hasain to shut up, but Joel beat Gib to it.

  “Titles are fickle things, Hasain Radek. You and I were both born lords without doing a thing to earn the right. Others have to work for all they have. Cenric Leal knows this, and I would encourage you to remember it as well.” Joel turned back to Nage, the ghost of some uncertainty in his misty eyes. “Love should be nurtured, lest we take it for granted. And it should be prized so it may never be lost.”

  Hasain opened his mouth to retort, his face an angry red and looking every bit like his father in the council room. Gib stretched out his arms in a desperate attempt to create space between his companion and friend. “Enough of this. We came here to have a good time.”

  Joel let out a long sigh. “Gib’s right. The wheel has made half a turn since I’ve seen any of you. This outing should be about us catching up and making light.” He chose to smile, not as gloriously as was typical, but better than naught. “I suppose congratulations are in order. I see the council has been unsuccessful in overturning King Rishi’s new law.”

  Gib and Hasain exhaled as one and, for the moment, the air became breathable again.

  Tarquin jumped to fill the space so no more awkward silences could arise. “Yes, but not for lack of trying. My father has said there are those who still oppose the draft age being raised.” He glanced around and lowered his voice a pitch. “Not the least of whom being General Morathi himself.”

  Gib inclined his head. “The general has his opinions, but for now the King still has the majority.”

  “Ah. Good news then,” Joel said, eyes slowly warming back up.

  “Hope the King’s majority holds out for the sake of war, too,” Nage grunted. Long fingers toyed with his flagon absently.

  Hasain set his own mug down with a clunk. “My father is smarter than most of those idiot council members combined. He’d rather die than see us go to war over something as petty as a land dispute. When I take my place on the council, my first order of business will be to see someone more level-headed take the position of High Councilor.”

  Gib bit the inside of his cheek as he watched Joel nod in agreement. Despite family ties, Neetra Adelwijn had no supporters at this table. Even still, Gib had no desire to be stuck in the middle of a new “debate” and fished for something to change the subject. He nudged Joel. “Oh! Diddy has finally been allowed to go to council!”

  Joel laughed. “I remember, dear heart. I saw him in the hall this afternoon. But good for him. I’d heard rumors Aunt Dahlia was never going to allow him out of her sight. I’d begun to worry!”

  Laughter rippled around the booth. Had Diddy been present, he most likely would have scolded them for enjoying his misfortune.

  “There you all are!” a familiar voice boomed.

  “Oh wonderful,” Tarquin chuckled. “Here comes more trouble.”

  Nawaz Arrio, nephew of Dean Marc and newly graduated Healer, advanced on them with Kezra at his side. They both had rosy cheeks, full smiles, and half-empty mugs. Nawaz’s bright eyes danced when they landed on his step-cousin. “Joel! The rumors of your return are true! How was your trip?”

  Kezra climbed into the booth beside Nage, elbowing him out of her way. “Move over, you drunk. Take your keg with you.”

  He snorted and swiped at her but complied. Nawaz slid into the seat as well, giving Hasain a quick grin before turning his attention back to Joel. Gib wondered if Nawaz failed to notice the sour look Hasain gave in return.

  “Shantar was lovely,” Joel gushed. “A bit humid, but lovely. The people were friendly and their customs vibrant—” He turned to look at Kezra. “Your mother must miss her homeland.”

  Kezra shrugged. “She’s said she doesn’t miss the snakes or heat.”

  Joel laughed. “Point taken, but the colors and culture were so dynamic.” The mage gave her a sly look. “I thought to buy you a lovely new sari while I was there—a souvenir from my travels.”

  “Better you save your money, Adelwijn.” Kezra gestured down toward her drab tunic and leggings. “I could have taken it to Gib’s brother and asked for curtains, I suppose.”

  Joel tipped his head back and cackled. Gib snorted a retort about how Tayver would never dream of “wasting” such fine fabric, and Kezra then made a vague allusion to using the worthless dress as a cleaning rag.

  Hasain had kept quiet since their arrival, but Gib noticed the man’s dark mood resurfacing as Nawaz and Kezra bantered playfully with one another.

  At last, the young Radek lord appeared unable to hold his tongue any longer. “Where were the two of you just now? I didn’t see you when I arrived.”

  Always the clown, Nawaz wagged his eyebrows and leaned across the table. “Maybe we were hidin’.”

  Gib had the distinct impression Nawaz shouldn’t perhaps get so close to his longtime friend. Hasain looked like a hissing snake, poised for a strike, but Nawaz seemed oblivious.

  Kezra, however, seemed to pick up on his foul mood. She leveled Hasain with a heavy, unapologetic stare. “We were outside, getting some air on the porch.”

  Hasain sneered. “I thought the porch was reserved for prostitutes and those too poor to buy a room for their services.”

  Nawaz’s vibrant eyes went cold as he turned a scowl onto Hasain. “Watch your mouth.”

  Hasain lowered his face but continued to mutter indiscernible insults under his breath.

  Gib winced. He hadn’t caught the words, but the intent was clear.

  Across the table, Kezra’s wild hair flew out in all directions as she took to her feet, glowering above Hasain. “If you have something to say then say it so we may hear—none of this slithering on your belly and hissing through poison fangs. You’re not a politician yet, Hasain.”

  The booth went silent. Joel’s hand was squeezing Gib’s knee beneath the table. Shooting his companion a glance, Gib wished he could think of something to say or do. If someone didn’t end the argument now, Kezra was likely to dive over the table and throw a punch.

  Hasain’s face went a terrible crimson, but he didn’t rush to counter her. When he did finally find his voice, it was stifled and low. “Apologies. It seems I can’t speak tonight without causing offense.”

  Nawaz opened his mouth, but Hasain was already sliding out of the booth and standing.

  He gave a curt bow. “I take my leave. Goodnight.”

  “Hasain—”

  Nawaz started after his friend, but Hasain was too quick. Waving Nawaz off, Hasain turned on his heel, making no stops on his way out the door. Nawaz slouched back in his seat, disgust and disappointment etched across his typically lighthearted features.

  “Sorry guys. Things are, uh, a little rough right now.”

  Joel leaned across the table and laid a hand over his cousin’s. “You know you have my support, as you supported me not so long ago. Truth be told, Hasain wasn’t in much mood for merriment even before you arrived. Don’t take his disposition to heart.”

  Kezra gave Nawaz a thump on the shoulder. “He’ll come around. He’s just feeling pinched right now.”

  The past year had seen a
lot of changes for the gang of friends. Coming into adulthood was no small step. Gib gripped Joel’s hand, hoping the two of them wouldn’t encounter any such troubles. They’d already had to fight so hard for what they had. Daya, would they have to fight any more? He looked at Joel. Those misty blue eyes with their supernatural wisdom always comforted Gib—only now, Joel was looking at the floor, perhaps even willfully avoiding Gib’s eyes.

  Chapter Three

  Gib drifted into consciousness. Bathed in warmth, he was slow to open his eyes, taking a moment to revel in the security of knowing he wasn’t waking up to an aching stomach or drafty farmhouse. No, those days were long past. This morning, he was awakening in the safest, most loving place he could ever imagine. Joel’s prone form beside him was proof enough of that.

  Sunlight flooded the room, casting rays of gold across Gib’s pillow and quilted bedspread. Taking a moment to yawn and stretch his limbs, he blinked the sleepiness from his eyes and turned a fond gaze onto his companion.

  Joel looked lovely. Flecks of light hit his soft, onyx hair and fair skin, showering him in an aura that seemed almost magical. A telltale curl played at his lips while he slept, causing Gib to want to smile, too. Absently, he brushed a wave of Joel’s hair away from his eyes. It’s still hard to believe he’s home.

  One sennight had passed since Joel’s return from Shantar, and Gib found himself spending more time at the Adelwijn estate in the past seven days than he had in the past seven moonturns combined. Tarquin spared no mercy. He’d teased Gib in class on more than one occasion, asking coyly if he ever planned to inform his roommate that Gib had moved out of their shared dormitory room. Gib had huffed and blushed, but he couldn’t exactly defend himself. He had been spending every waking moment—and night—with Joel. But can anyone really fault me for wanting to be with him? We’ve been apart for six moonturns!

  Joel rolled onto his side as he began to stir from slumber, and Gib couldn’t resist the urge to lean forward and place a light kiss on his companion’s mouth. Joel’s eyes fluttered open, his crystal orbs impossibly blue and bottomless.

  “Good morning,” Gib whispered. Modest heat rose to his cheeks when he realized he’d been caught gaping at the other man.

  Joel put a hand to his mouth as he yawned. “I slept in.”

  “No, the eighth bell hasn’t even tolled yet.”

  A soft chuckle made its way through Joel’s parted lips. “That is sleeping in for me! In Shantar, Cenric demanded I be awake and dressed before the sun rose.”

  “It’s Harvest festival,” Gib replied gently, sliding closer to his companion. “We can sleep as long as we want.”

  Joel arched an eyebrow. “Sleep? Is that what you had in mind?”

  Gib did blush now. He fumbled over his next words. “You know what I meant.”

  Slender arms went around Gib’s shoulders, pulling him closer. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too.”

  Silence fell across the room as they shared a prolonged kiss, leaving Gib breathless and lightheaded. Daya, how did I ever get through all those moonturns without him?

  He relinquished Joel’s mouth only when they both were sputtering for air. Tracing a finger along the ridge of Joel’s jaw, Gib could feel the slightest trace of stubble where the well-shaven hair had begun to grow back. His hand finally came to rest against Joel’s cheek. “I’m so glad you’re back. Things can return to the way they were. We can pick up right where we left off.”

  A twinge of uncertainty flashed behind Joel’s eyes. If Gib hadn’t been looking, he wouldn’t have even caught it. But he did. His pulse quickened. Was something wrong?

  A moment later, however, Joel smiled and his placid demeanor returned. “I’m glad to be home.”

  Joel’s pleasant tone was genuine. Nothing suggested he felt otherwise. Gib relaxed his tense shoulders. Surely he’d just been imagining things. Way to be paranoid, you fool.

  “I suppose I should get dressed,” Gib murmured. “Tay and Cal are supposed to stop by this morning. We’re gonna write to Liza.”

  Joel propped himself up by his elbows. “Any word from her lately?”

  Gib shook his head. “Nope. But no news is good news, I guess.”

  “I’m sure she’s fine,” Joel replied, squeezing Gib’s hand. “My father says the northern border hasn’t seen anything more than the occasional skirmish. Hopefully, the High Council will realize how foolish they’re being and send the soldiers stationed in Port Ostlea home.”

  Gib stared down at his hands. Liza was more than capable of taking care of herself, but that didn’t stop him from worrying about his elder sister. She’d been on active duty in the north ever since the High Council deemed it necessary to build up forces there, in case the tiny nation of Nales made a move against Arden’s northernmost city, Port Ostlea. Seneschal Koal and King Rishi adamantly voted against the measure, but the decree had passed anyway. It’s ridiculous, Gib lamented. One person starts a rumor that Nales is holding secret meetings with Shiraz and suddenly we’re verging on war with two countries instead of one!

  Joel cleared his throat as he climbed from the bed. “I’m going to draw hot water for a bath. I have to go see Cenric after our morning meal.”

  “Oh?” Gib quirked a brow. “During the festival?”

  Joel didn’t glance up as he slipped into a cotton bathrobe. “Internship papers. I have to get them signed.”

  “Oh, good. So you’ll officially be a free man.”

  “Indeed,” Joel replied, grinning handsomely.

  Joel went to bathe, leaving Gib to dress in private. He could smell the aroma of fresh bread rising from the kitchen, and his stomach gurgled in anticipation of the delicious meal Tabitha had undoubtedly prepared. Running fingers through his curls, Gib slipped from the bedchamber and made his way downstairs.

  He was surprised to find Calisto already waiting for him. The young student sat at the dining room table and chatted with Tabitha as she set out plates. When Gib came through the door, Cal’s eyes brightened. “There you are! What took you so long?”

  Gib scratched his head as he took a seat beside his brother. “What do you mean? I was sleeping.”

  “Sleeping?” Cal chided. “The sun’s been up for two marks already. I would know. I was up at dawn!”

  “Well, why did you get up so early?” Gib asked, ruffling the younger boy’s mop of hair. “You don’t have classes today. The festival is going on.”

  Cal sighed like an impatient child. “Classes, no. But I had morning chores.”

  “Ah, yes. I remember those.” Gib held back laughter. He wasn’t made to do chores anymore—another perk of being Koal’s understudy.

  Tabitha smiled as she filled their goblets with milk. “Would you like bread with your eggs this morning, Gibben?”

  Gib nodded. “That sounds delicious. Thank you, Tabitha.”

  The servant girl turned to Cal next. “How about you, Calisto? Are you hungry?”

  “Yes, please!” Cal chirped.

  Gib waited until Tabitha had left the room to tease his brother. “Don’t they feed you morning meal at Academy anymore?”

  Cal grinned. “Of course they do. But I worked up an appetite during my chores. And besides, the food is better here. Tabitha always makes me something special.”

  Sure enough, Tabitha returned with a loaf of steaming bread and scrambled eggs—and an apple fritter for Calisto. Gib chuckled as he watched the youngster devour the treat in three hearty bites. “Careful you don’t spoil him too awfully much, Tabitha.”

  A little while later, Joel joined them. His damp hair was combed back, and he’d donned a fresh set of mage robes. As he sat down, Gib caught the faint scent of lavender soap wafting from Joel’s polished, ivory skin. Tabitha served him eggs, and Gib offered half of his loaf. Joel thanked them both graciously.

  “How do you like your classes, Cal?” Joel asked as they dined.

  “Good,” Cal replied, pausing to take a drink. “I like them all
—well, except Ardenian History. I think I’d like the class better if I had a different teacher. Professor Anders Malin-Rai doesn’t really seem to like his job or care about how the students do.”

  “Shocking revelation,” Joel remarked tersely.

  Gib rolled his eyes. “No doubt.” He had nothing good to say about Councilor Anders. The man might be Kezra’s sire, but the father and daughter were as different as night was to day. Gib heard a soft knock at the door just then. “That must be Tayver.” He started to get up, but Tabitha flew by to answer the call.

  Tayver strutted into the room in a flurry of golden buttons and elaborate silk tassels. He wore his hair longer than the other two brothers, choosing to tame his unruly curls by binding them into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. Tabitha took his cloak, and he thanked the servant by planting a light kiss on the backside of her hand. Her cheeks went a rosy pink.

  Gib tried not to snort. “Hello, Tay.”

  “Glad to see you all had the courtesy to wait for me.” Tayver sat down heavily between his brothers.

  “Would you like some breakfast?” Joel asked, leaning forward in his chair.

  Tayver waved a hand. “No, no. I took my meal with Master Joran before I left. Would you imagine he roused me an entire mark before dawn to start our new work order?”

  “I’m sorry,” Joel replied. “That sounds dreadful.”

  “Oh no, I love it!” Tayver chuckled. “We’ve been commissioned to create a wedding gown for Lady Rosalin Elsey. She’s marrying some disgustingly rich lord from Greenbank and wants the entire garment crafted from sea silk. Sea silk! Do you know how expensive that is? One foot of fabric is, like, a hundred gold coins!” He laughed as though it was the most absurd thing in the world. “Anyway, Master Joran trusts only me to assist him with such a monumental task, so I’m going to be a very busy man for the next few sennights.”

  “I’m sure your fellow understudies are so jealous,” Gib teased him.

  “Oh, undoubtedly.”