Taegan’s scowl deepened, but he said nothing. That was not surprising to him either, and neither was Zorvut’s slight spike of excitement at the words.
“I agree,” Zorvut said quickly. “I’ve actually been thinking about this, and I have an idea of where we could go.”
“Certainly,” the king said, unclasping his hands to gesture at Zorvut. “I wanted to ask your opinions, anyway. What is your idea?”
“Well, we were able to learn the name of my biological father, or at least who my mother claimed he is,” he explained. “Tomlin Whitmore, a human bard. He retired several years ago, but the rumor is that he moved to a port town in southern Autreth called Naimere. I think that if we can track him down, maybe he can help me... get a hold of all of this.” He clenched and unclenched his fist as he said it, looking down wistfully at his palms.
His magical ability had largely been a cause of frustration and little else since their return to Aefraya. When they had explained his sudden gift to the king, he had arranged to have some warlocks from the library work with him, but they had not been able to teach him very much. Whatever source of magic he drew from, it did not seem to be the same as the elven tradition. Even with their guidance, he had not improved at all.
“Hmm,” Ruven mused, lifting a hand to his face in thought. “Well, that could be a promising lead. And even if you don’t find him, that’s far enough away that you should be safe. I don’t think anyone would go looking for you there.”
“That’s true, too,” Zorvut agreed, leaning across the table toward the king. “If we leave at night, maybe cut our hair first so we’re harder to recognize... I don’t expect anybody would think to track us there. No one but us knows of any connection between him and I.”
“I don’t know, Zorvut,” Taegan interrupted—he had not expected his father to agree so easily. “I’m not convinced that this man would be able to help us, or if he even would if he could. It seems like a dangerous journey with no guaranteed benefit.”
From across the table, Zorvut’s expression faltered, crestfallen. Ruven gave him a strange look as well, though his expression was much less readable than Zorvut’s.
“Far less dangerous than going headlong into battle, Taegan,” he pointed out, and Taegan glanced away, half embarrassed and half guilty.
“I suppose you’re right,” he mumbled, sighing. While he still was not convinced, every argument he had against it sounded petty and childish in his head. Zorvut seemed to sense his lingering reluctance, though, and reached across the table to grasp his hand.
“It is dangerous,” he said softly, meeting Taegan’s gaze. “But we’ll be together, so we’ll be safe. And I just really think... I truly believe he’ll be able to help me somehow. Do you trust me?”
Taegan’s hesitance melted away at the earnest expression in Zorvut’s golden-yellow eyes. The more time they were spending together, the better he could pick up the nuances of his husband’s face—where he had once found the half-orc to be expressionless and hard to read, he could now recognize so many thoughts on his face plain as day. He squeezed Zorvut’s fingers and nodded, pressing his lips into a tight smile.
“Of course I trust you,” he replied, and took a deep breath before looking back over at the king. “And you think this is a good plan, Father? Better than whatever you had in mind?”
“To be honest, I didn’t have anything specific in mind yet,” Ruven said. “I wanted to see what the two of you thought first, and just as I suspected, you already had an idea. And, Taegan, if you are still unsure about traveling so far, perhaps you can remain behind and we can send Zorvut off with an escort. I’m sure one of the land barons would offer you a comfortable place to stay out of the way of everything.”
Taegan balked at that, giving the king an incredulous expression. “Certainly not!” he exclaimed, shaking his head. Zorvut chuckled at his theatrics, but he felt the same immediate rejection of the idea coming from the bond as well. “No, whatever we decide on, we do together.”
“Good,” Ruven replied with an amused grin. “That’s what I wanted to hear. Well, I believe Zorvut’s idea of disguising yourselves when you leave would have merit. I think haircuts might be in order for the both of you. Zorvut, can you grow a beard?”
The half-orc grimaced at that, but nodded. “It’s not flattering, but maybe that’s for the best.”
Chapter Two
Theywereontheroad within a week, each with shorter hair and plainer clothes, and a patchy dark scruff coming in along Zorvut’s chin and jaws. Taegan had been loath to cut his hair, and could only bear to have it cut to his shoulders, while Zorvut’s long black hair was now just a short tuft on the top of his skull. He was allowing the sides he normally kept shaved to the skin to grow out a bit as well, giving his head a much rounder shape. He looked almost nothing like the man Taegan married, either the first or second time, so it had been a shock when he had returned from the castle barber shorn like a sheep. That had been even more saddening than his own haircut.
“It’s just hair,” Zorvut teased as Taegan fought against tears and ran his hands through the short, wiry black strands where there had once been long, luxurious locks. “I like how yours turned out. It accentuates your jawline.”
“Don’t try to flatter me,” Taegan replied, trying to tease back, but he knew the sadness he felt was certainly loud and clear through the bond.
This would also be the first journey on his new horse, another bitter milestone. The mare was a tall red dun with a white line running from her forehead down between her eyes. Her summer coat was a lighter tan shade, while her mane was a deeper reddish hue, and a single braid ran down it. Ember, a fitting name, was much more spirited and lively than his gentle Moonlight had been, but she rode well and got along with Graksh’t. Hopefully, she would do just as well on their long trek.
They left less than an hour before the sun set. King Ruven saw them off at the back gate, which let out at the less-traveled trail that made a wide loop around the walls of the city before reconnecting with the main road further southeast. They had planned out their full route, and would break off from the major road once they got further from the capital and closer into contested lands that might have orc scouting parties; still, it was best if no one witnessed them leaving. The fewer people that knew they were not within the safety of the castle walls, the better.
Ruven fussed with Taegan’s traveling cloak for a long moment, not meeting his gaze, before finally letting out a deep sigh.
“My son,” he said quietly, gripping Taegan’s shoulders. “You must exercise every caution. These are dangerous times.”
“Yes, I know,” Taegan agreed. “I will.”
“Remember, if you must write, have it sent to Castien at the Magenta Marigold. He knows to pass the message along to me. But only try to keep it to one, maybe two letters, one when you’ve arrived and another when you’re on the way back. And only if it’s safe.”
“I know,” Taegan repeated, and patted his father’s forearm nervously. As anxious as he was about the journey, knowing his father was also afraid made it somehow harder to bear. “I promise we’ll return safely. The both of us.”
“Yes, we will,” Zorvut agreed, nodding at the king. He had already mounted his horse, and was standing a few paces away, waiting for their goodbye to be over.
