That same wistful look crossed her face before she schooled her expression again.
“Now, go in there and speak to those boys. I know you have a plan to concoct tonight.”
With one last squeeze, she turned, her dress and curly blonde hair fanning behind her, before she made her way up the stairs and to her own lavish apartment. I took deep, fortifying breaths, clearing my mind of the beautiful child sleeping behind the door, and donned the mask of Torin’s ruthless general before striding to his door and knocking twice.
Chapter 37
Folami
Peytor and Torin spoke in hushed whispers that they quickly quieted when they saw me walk through the door. Their heads were bent together, faces masked in stern lines as they spoke feverishly. Torin was impassioned about whatever they were discussing—the slight redness creeping up his neck and the flourishing of his hands was a dead giveaway—and Peytor seemed to fare no better. His right hand was propped on his knee, gesturing slightly as he spoke, while the other hung loose at his side, his fist clenching and unclenching.
They’d both discarded their fancier attire—what I called “lord clothes”—in favor of loose pants and cream tunics.
From this angle, they almost looked like brothers.
Acted like it, too, once I walked in.
Peytor was the first to notice me, his eyes widening slightly as he gently knocked Torin’s leg with his hand. Torin, still deep in his statement, glanced at me once, then a second time once he realized that it was indeed me standing in the doorway.
Both men straightened in their seats, Torin on the bed and Peytor in the desk chair, before fixing me with guarded stares.
“What?” I sighed, already exhausted with this conversation and it hadn’t even begun. I knew, or could at least speculate, what they were talking about. It really wasn’t a tough jump to make after Lord d’Leocopus more than insinuated that not only was I no longer welcome here, but he also would use me as a bargaining chip with the Warlord if things did not work out with the rebellion.
Needless to say, I was certain Torin and Peytor were just as frustrated—just as concerned—as I was.
At least I hoped.
They wouldn’t bargain you away.
I told myself confidently.
They’re not your parents.
I shook my head slightly, the beads in my hair clicking with the movement, as I crossed the room and sank onto the small rug that dominated the floor space.
Somehow, Torin found the one rug in this manor that wasnotred. I absently picked at the fibers while studying each of their expressions.
Who was going to break first . . .
“Apparently Lord d’Leocopus’ fourth wife preferred blue accessories and accents,” Peytor said with a nod to the rug beneath me. I hummed thoughtfully, continually stroking the fibers. Peytor was like this—would lead with some innocuous statement before getting to the heart of what was bothering him. “He’d stashed all of her choices away in one of the closets down here, and I helped Torin raid it earlier this morning.”
That would explain why I’d never seen it before, even though we spent a decent amount of our free time together in this room.
I still kept my mouth shut, my face carefully blank, as I waited for Peytor to crack. Torin was just as stoic as ever, watching the whole interaction with a sort of guarded curiosity.
Peytor began to fidget with his hands, running them through his hair and across his pants as if he didn’t quite know what to do with them. He breathed deeply once before finally breaking.
“Fo, what he said . . .” Peytor trailed off for a moment, his grey eyes searching in the air above his head for the words he wanted, “we know why you did what you did. After talking with some of the trainees, I actually think you went easy on him. But?—”
“But it can’t happen again, I understand. There’s so much more at stake here than just my own freedom,” I finished for him, my voice soft and understanding. Peytor sagged as he released the remainder of the air in his lungs, the worry lines relaxing.
“Which is why I need to leave Lishahl, take a mission elsewhere. Perhaps accompany Torin to Vespera,” I said quickly, my voice soft but hard. Unyielding yet pleading.
As much as I wanted to stay here to protect Itanya and bask in the burgeoning relationship between Peytor and me, remaining in Lishahl would be a death sentence for all three of us. Better if I were out of sight of Lord d’Leocopus and somewhere else, productively serving the rebellion.
I hated Vespera and everything it stood for; the beauty of the city tainted forevermore, but I would go if Torin requested.
I’d walk to the ends of Elyria for him.
