Neetra guffawed, and the King reeled like he’d been struck across the cheek. His dark eyes speared Liro much like someone might view a troublesome insect. Aodan scowled, bristling where he stood.
Gib didn’t understand the slight. Aodan was from the island of Derry. He wouldn’t have any family on the mainland. And what was wrong with the mountains? Did the highborns look down on people from the mountain range? It seemed absurd to Gib, but then, Liro’s viewpoints always had been skewed.
Koal leaned closer to Liro, his voice a menacing shiver on Gib’s spine. “I don’t know what you think you’re trying to prove, but if you don’t keep that unruly mouth of yours shut, then I’ll do it for you.”
Liro’s eyes were unreadable as he bowed curtly to King Rishi. For the moment, it seemed he was done wiggling his rotten tongue. The other councilors were beginning to show up. Neetra made some small gesture to the King before dismissing himself, and both High Councilor and his understudy made their way into the council room.
Gib thought to go take his seat as well, before the hallway became congested. However, before he could take even one step, Koal’s hushed voice caught his attention. “How was everything, Aodan? Are you all right?”
The bodyguard nodded. “Aye. It must’ve been a distant cousin ya saw. No one seemed to know anythin’.”
Gib’s brow furrowed. So Aodan did have family in Arden? What happened to his cousin? Gib opened his mouth to ask but thought twice when the King’s stony glare landed on him. Perhaps this was one of those things he was meant to keep secret. He supposed it would be easy enough, seeing as he had no idea what was going on.
Under different circumstances, he might have pondered the conversation further, but in the moment, he was entirely preoccupied with letting Kezra know what he’d overheard regarding Nawaz and Heidi’s marriage proposal. Gib went into the meeting with a heavy mind, knowing he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything being said.
The cold wind whipped against Gib’s face before he could pull his cloak tighter. Standing at the door outside the Galloway estate, he tried to convince himself that he’d come too far to turn back now. Neetra and Koal’s conversation kept replaying through his mind. The High Councilor had spoken so casually, as if this marriage didn’t stand to ruin Nawaz. Kezra hadn’t been mentioned, but Gib knew the words would have cut her deep.
Gib’s mind wandered to the task ahead. Kezra was sure to not take his news well, but he wanted her to find out from a friend, not from a gossiping courtier or a frenzied Nawaz. His stomach soured. Nothing about this was fair. Why should anyone be forced into marriage?
The frigid wind stung his cheeks, but dread held him back. How could he possibly hope to offer comfort regarding something he knew so little about? It wasn’t as though he’d ever been in the position of having to marry and, frankly, the one romantic relationship he’d experienced was currently in shambles. He could do little more than be a willing shoulder to lean on. He owed Kezra that much. After all, she’d listened to his woes. Reluctantly, he took the cold knocker in his hand and banged the door three times.
After a moment, the door opened and Gib was met with a warm smile and kind eyes. Tamil Malin-Rai bore a striking resemblance to her elder sister, with rich brown skin, emerald eyes, and raven hair. Wrapped in a colorful sari, she ushered Gib into the house before the cold could drift inside.
Despite being the lady of the estate, Tamil answered the door herself. Gib had to admit it was a bit strange, but then again, none of the Malin-Rai children he knew seemed to fit the mold of “proper” lords and ladies. Tamil’s marriage last summer had set a lot of tongues wagging. The fact that the daughter of Lord Anders Malin-Rai had snuck off to marry in secret had been nothing short of scandalous. Of course, her then-suitor, Tular Galloway, hadn’t been Anders’ first choice for marriage—hell, Tular wouldn’t have been even his last choice. Regardless, the wedding had happened, and now Tamil and Tular lived here, away from Anders and away from the palace.
“Gib Nemesio, welcome,” Tamil greeted.
He bowed his head. “Thank you. I’m here to see Kezra, if she’s in.”
“She is. I’ll go fetch her.”
Gib’s face burned. “Oh, you don’t have to—”
She smiled and his face only scorched hotter. Who else was she going to send? She didn’t employ any servants.
Gib stammered. “Uh, I mean, thank you.”
Her beam only grew wider as she backed away. Gib was left to stand awkwardly in the foyer as Tamil went to get her sister. He removed his dripping cloak and hung it over one arm, unsure where to put it. Cool rivulets of what was once snow drizzled down his temples and neck. With a groan, he ran his hands through his mop of curls, hoping to dislodge any remaining slush.
“Gib? What are you doing here?”
Gib spun around in time to see Zandi descend the grand staircase. Gib nearly slipped in the puddle of melted snow around his feet, and Zandi giggled in response. A strange mix of relief and dread churned in Gib’s stomach. It was far too easy to be swept away by Zandi’s glimmering eyes and giddy smile, but Gib couldn’t share the merriment. Every time he thought he could be happy to see Kezra’s brother, he inevitably thought of Joel and despair washed over him anew.
“Uh, I came to see Kezra. What—what are you doing here?”
The color in Zandi’s cheeks deepened. “I often stay here to—be away from Anders.” Worry knitted his brows. “Is all well? You don’t appear to be in the mood for festivities.”
Gib’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He didn’t want to share his news with anyone but Kezra. It was only fair she know first. “I’m afraid not.”
Sudden terror flashed in Zandi’s eyes. “It’s not war, is it?”
“No, no! Nothing like that.” Gib glanced down the hallway Tamil had disappeared into but saw no one. “I can’t—I don’t wish to tell anyone before I speak to Kezra. You do understand, right?”
Zandi nodded. “Of course.” He stepped off the bottom step of the staircase and lifted a hand. “Here, at least let me take your cloak. I’ll hang it for you.” Before Gib could raise his voice in protest, Zandi snatched the garment away with a tsk. “This is wet! You’ll catch your death out there.”
“It wasn’t wet when I left. Snow melts into water. You knew that, didn’t you?”
“Laugh it up now. When you’re lying in bed sick with influenza, you won’t be able to!” Zandi hung the cloak in a nearby closet, and Gib watched as the mage performed the same spell he’d used at the festival two moonturns prior. The fabric lightened under Zandi’s ministrations as the water evaporated. Gib watched in awe. He supposed magic would always amaze him.
He opened his mouth to utter thanks, but voices from the hall caught his attention. Kezra and Tamil talked to one another as they entered the room.
As soon as she spotted him, Kezra grinned deviously. “Miss me, Nemesio?”
Gib wanted to joke with her, but he just couldn’t. No matter how he might try to cushion the news, it was still going to cut her to the bone. “I have to talk to you.”
Kezra’s smile fell away. Clearing his throat, Zandi took Tamil by the elbow and guided her away so Gib could speak privately with his friend. Gib wished he could thank the Malin-Rai lord, but Kezra was already staring at him with guarded eyes, silently demanding more information. He cursed himself for being so transparent. She clearly knew nothing good was afoot.
His heart hammered in his chest. “I, uh, I’ve news for you. Nothing good, I’m afraid.”
Kezra stiffened where she stood. “Did you just come from council? Has this to do with that? War? Or revoking women’s positions as soldiers?”
“I did just come from council, but this is about something I heard earlier. It has nothing to do with war or disposing your job.”
A flicker of hope grazed her emerald eyes. “Then what steals your smile? Why do you look like you’ve seen death?”
He hated what he was about to do to her. “Naw
az.” The color drained from Kezra’s face, and she sunk down, sitting on the first step of the staircase. Gib realized how bad the word might have sounded and rushed to elaborate. “He’s not hurt or anything. It’s just—Neetra and Koal had a conversation earlier and I thought you should know about it.”
Kezra took a ragged breath, and Gib couldn’t be sure if she trembled in sorrow or rage. “Marriage to Heidi?”
Gib’s head swam with rushing blood. “Koal has agreed. He said if Nawaz asks properly, then he may marry her.”
“Then all he needs to do is refuse to ask!”
Memories of Nawaz’s distress in Marc’s office rose up like a wave. “He may not have a choice, Kezra. Neetra will take his title if he refuses to marry.”
Kezra jumped to her feet so fast Gib nearly fell over in his haste to get out of her way. “That bastard only wants to be rid of him! Nawaz told me himself that all he’s ever wanted was to be seen as a son, and Neetra won’t give him even that! He doesn’t want an inheritance. He doesn’t want the Adelwijn name! What could Neetra hope to gain by forcing Nawaz to marry?”
Gib pressed his back to the door. “M–Marc thinks it may have something to do with Neetra wanting to set up a marriage for one of the twins. He said Neetra can’t do that unless his eldest is married off first.”
“Horseshit! The twins aren’t even fourteen yet! What marriage is so important to Neetra?”
“I–I don’t know.”
Kezra crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s bad form. Neetra is just looking for an excuse to get rid of him! Nawaz knows it, too, but he still clings to the hope that one day that monster will accept him! He needs to just cut his losses and forgo his title.”
Gib bit the inside of his cheek. “That’s a lot to ask, isn’t it? I mean, could you drop your title so easily?”
Ice rippled across the room, and Kezra’s voice was a poisonous hiss. “If it had to be done, yes. If I could revoke my name, just to be rid of Anders, I would do it in a heartbeat.”
Gib knew he was asking for trouble, but he couldn’t help his treacherous mouth. “You could perhaps take a new name—Nawaz’s name—and be done with your father that way.”
Kezra drew closer, and he pressed his back against the door so hard he could feel the brass handle prodding his flesh. “Take a new name?” Her growl made Gib shudder. “Wait for my hero to ride in and save me? Never! I will not be some rich lord’s useless housewife. While there is breath in my body, I will never depend on anyone to rescue me.”
Gib didn’t know what to say. He’d known she would be upset, even angry, but this blinding rage? This was new and it chilled him to the bone. “I–I’m sorry, Kezra. I only wanted you to hear the news from a friend.”
Kezra fell back a step. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—it’s not your fault.”
“It’s not Nawaz’s fault either.” Gib didn’t know where his conviction came from, but as long as she was slipping back into the Kezra he knew, he’d try to reason with her. “Neetra is pushing him.”
Kezra’s voice darkened again. “Perhaps someone should push Neetra for once.”
It wasn’t a bad idea in theory, but her frigid demeanor made Gib uncomfortable. He opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of whickering horses signaled that riders were approaching. He and Kezra were at the window in an instant.
Two men dismounted outside. Gib recognized them even from a distance. Nawaz and Tular. Both frantic, they tied the pair of horses to the gate and ran toward the door.
“They know,” Gib whispered. There was no way they didn’t—not with this sense of urgency.
The door shot open, and Tular and Nawaz stumbled inside, bringing a rush of bitter air with them. Nawaz’s panic was clear as his widened eyes scanned the room. He barely seemed to notice Gib’s presence when his pained gaze flitted past.
His eyes landed on Kezra, and he reached a hand out to her. “Kez, I have to talk to you.”
Kezra lingered by the staircase, her dark features torn between terror and fury, her rigid stance doing nothing to hide her heaving chest. “I’ve given you an answer once before.”
“You know then?” Nawaz did glance at Gib now. “Koal has finally relented. It’s only a matter of time before Heidi finds out—”
“That spoiled brat’s temper tantrum is none of my concern!”
Nawaz advanced on her. “This isn’t about Heidi, and you know it! Neetra won’t settle until he’s rid of me. Kezra, I need your help—”
She dove up the stairs before he could finish the sentence. Without asking permission, Nawaz pursued her. A moment later, Gib heard the sound of a door slamming and their muffled voices as they argued.
Gib swallowed the jagged lump that had formed in his throat. I should leave. I’ll be of no more help here. He’d done all he could. He’d tried to break the news to Kezra before she could hear it from someone who wouldn’t care about her feelings. Now, however, he wondered if he should have come at all. Hand on the back of his burning neck, he went to the closet where Zandi had hung his cloak.
“Tular?” Tamil’s timid voice barely carried across the room. “What’s wrong?”
Her husband sighed as he pulled off his hat. “Neetra’s demanding Nawaz get married or be disowned.”
Tamil gasped. “Oh no.”
Gib slung the cloak around his shoulders and turned away from the closet just in time to see Zandi slink into the room.
“Are you leaving?” the mage asked.
Gib nodded. “Yuh.” Really? Yuh? He frowned and cleared his throat. “I don’t see any reason to stay. There isn’t going to be anything else I can do for either of them.”
“You’re a good friend, Gib,” Zandi replied. “She’s maybe never said it, and probably never will say it, but you’re dear to her. There are so few people who accept her for herself, but you’ve never questioned her or made her feel inadequate. She loves that about you.”
Gib laughed before he could stop himself. It seemed a joke to him that anyone could call Kezra’s quality into question. “Inadequate? Kezra is the fiercest warrior I know!”
Zandi’s smile, even while sad, was dazzling. “You don’t even know why you’re so wonderful, do you?”
Gib backed away, his stomach churning. What was this fluttering in his belly? Why was Zandi able to do this to him even though he longed for Joel in the worst way? Was it wrong? Should he feel terrible about his conflicted feelings? Thoughts of Joel rejecting him earlier and the face of the Imperial boy evoked sudden, rash anger in Gib’s mind. He shook his head, trying to clear his jumbled thoughts.
Zandi must have taken the gesture for dismissal. His eyes widened. “Oh no, I didn’t mean—I’m sorry if I was too forward. I only meant that Kezra is lucky to have a friend like you.”
“It’s all right. I don’t mean to be aloof. My mind is over-full right now, with so much going on.”
Zandi nodded and kept his distance, and for some reason, that only bothered Gib all the more. He imagined Zandi must have nice, soft hands, a firm embrace— Stop. Stop this! You’re confused.
“I, uh, I should go now.”
Zandi inclined his head. His cheeks were red, Gib was sure of it, but the mage maintained his composure well. “Safe travels.”
Gib reached for the door handle but hesitated when the slam of the upstairs door echoed through the home. Kezra’s voice carried down the staircase. Gib couldn’t recall a time he’d heard her sound so distraught. “I will not be a chained animal! I didn’t complete my training and take a job as a sentinel just to marry and be a housewife!” She thundered down the stairs, Nawaz on her heels.
“He’ll disown me!” Nawaz protested. “I won’t cage you! Please, just marry me!”
Red-faced, Kezra stormed away from him. “I said no. If you don’t stand up to him then there’s nothing I can do for you.”
Before she could slip away, Nawaz caught her arm. “Kezra, please!”
Gib knew what was going to happen an instan
t before it did. He winced, watching Kezra as she spun around, hand raised, and slammed a clenched fist against Nawaz’s nose. Nawaz’s head rocked back from the force of the impact, and the sickening crack of knuckle on flesh made Gib shudder.
Tamil cried out in shock, and Kezra put a hand over her own mouth, as though she was horrified by her actions. Then, as the color drained from her face, she whirled and fled the room. Both Zandi and Tamil swept after her.
Nawaz didn’t move. He stood rooted in place, cradling his nose as blood began to trickle through his fingers. Tular grunted something about getting a rag and disappeared into the other room, leaving Gib alone with the defeated lord.
“She as much as said she loved me, you know.”
Gib’s brow furrowed. He had no doubt of Kezra’s affection for Nawaz. In fact, he was sure anyone who really knew anything about them had no doubt either.
“But she won’t marry me,” Nawaz continued. His voice was lifeless. “What good is love without conviction?”
“She may just need time,” Gib offered quietly. “She’s determined to make her own way. Marriage wasn’t ever part of her plan, I don’t think.”
Nawaz’s voice cracked. “I don’t have time. She’s made her choice. She’s seen to it that I can’t go forward with her.”
Gib’s heart pounded as he watched Nawaz heave his shoulders and glare at the floor with blurry eyes. When Tular returned with a damp cloth, Gib silently let himself out. He could say nothing more and could offer no further comfort.
Nawaz’s words burned him like a brand. What good was love without conviction? Even if Joel still loved him, there was no sign they would ever be more than they were right now. It was a difficult time, but Joel had barely spared a word for Gib and had outright turned down all his affections and offerings of support. Perhaps Joel’s mind was already set, and if it was—like Nawaz—Gib could do nothing to change it.
His heart ached as he wove through the streets. Some of his grief was for Kezra and Nawaz, surely, but another, greater part was reserved for himself. He and Joel were done. Gib just needed to accept it. He couldn’t go forward with Joel.
Nightfall: Book Two of the Chronicles of Arden Page 38
