When he had filled all the columns with his sprawling handwriting, I realized he was no longer asking for my permission to help. He was just razing every opposition to the ground like the cities he had conquered. And I was yielding. Typical.
But then, what choice did I have?
It would only be for a tenday or two, I told myself. The moment my wrist was better, I would tell him to leave. And all the problems invading my life would vanish with him.
“So those araks don’t end up as tasty steaks?” Noctis asked, a playful twinkle in his eyes as he glanced at me. “I have to admit, I was curious.”
“What?” I glared at him in outrage. I would never send one of my beauties to the butcher. “Of course not. They are milk araks.” Noticing Noctis’s blank stare, I explained, “I make cheese from their milk.”
“Ah, arak cheese.” He smiled. “It’s considered a delicacy, right? I’ve had it a few times.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” I said, my voice dripping with sweetness. “Your armies were always skilled at confiscating the finest goods. Which conquest were you celebrating when you ate it?”
Noctis’s eyes narrowed, but he did not retaliate. I suspected playing this amenable, almost domesticated version of himself cost him. He probably thought he owed it to me for saving his life. But this wasn’t his true nature. He hadn’t crossed the boundaries between us since healing me, yet I wasn’t foolish enough to consider him harmless or tame.
“Why araks?” His pleasant tone couldn’t hide the sharpness of hisgaze. He knew I was keeping secrets. I had no intention of making it easy for him to uncover them.
I matched his tone. “Chance, really. I went to the Great Market in Rasga to buy seedlings for my vegetable garden and a dozen chickens. But there they were.” My gaze drifted to the kitchen window as I recalled the time nearly ten years ago. “Their owner had died, leaving them in a sorry state. Nobody wanted them, so I thought, why not?” A derisive sound escaped me. “The cattle trader thought I had lost my mind. Araks are notoriously stubborn.”
“He certainly didn’t know you.” The affectionate expression on Noctis’s face looked infuriatingly like pride. It ignited a strange warmth inside me that was harder to ignore than I would have liked. “There is probably nothing you can’t do when you set your mind to it.”
He was good at this, wasn’t he? Making someone feel as if they had his complete attention, as if he valued their opinions and deeds. It was no coincidence that he had managed to persuade so many Anima serving other Aurea to join his cause during his initial rebellion, and then again after Yggdrasil’s fall. He had an innate ability to sense people’s dissatisfaction and offer them exactly what they craved. Zamani had always mockingly said it was because he had never been content in his entire existence, always desiring most what he could not have.
The power to create without limits. Dominion over Aron-Lyr. Me. Two out of three were forever out of his reach. Was he delusional enough to think he could win me back? Was I stubborn enough to ensure that did not happen?
His next question interrupted my thoughts. “Why Lasgallen?”
“Lasgallen suffered heavily during the war. It has always been Aron-Lyr’s most fertile realm, supplying the others with food, so the queen started a repopulation program. The prices for the land werevery affordable.” I shrugged. “The weather patterns are chaotic since Yggdrasil’s destruction, but I’ve always enjoyed a challenge.”
Mentioning one of our most devastating memories caught Noctis off guard, and it showed in his eyes. I wouldn’t be so bold as to interpret his silence as guilt, though.
“And it’s beautiful,” I added wistfully. Lasgallen was scarred, but not broken. How could I not love that?
“It is also in the middle of nowhere,” Noctis said, his dark eyes seeing entirely too much. “And very lonely.”
“I don’t mind being alone.” My lie didn’t even sound convincing to my own ears.
Tired of the discussion, I stood up, ignoring the ache in every part of my body.
“Come. If you are staying a while longer to help me, I will have to show you whereeverything is.”
CHAPTER
13
THE GOLDEN DAYS OF LYRHEIM
1800 years after the making of Aron-Lyr
Noctis
Lyrheim was exactly what I had feared: boring and predictable, filled with gullible fools who followed the Allfather’s orders without question, and the feeble creatures they had created. It quickly became clear that no one but Aramaz was pleased about my presence; worried glances and fearful whispers followed me wherever I went.
Despite luring me there, my brother was mostly occupied with his duties. And with her.
Baradaz. The Lady of Light. My brother’s bride.
It was Baradaz who taught me envy. It was Baradaz who taught me to hate.
