“Forgive me, Ronan. I assumed I would be staying at Cantor Manor, given my history with the agrippa herd,” he interjected.
Ronan cocked his head, his brows narrowing. “Drystan established a group of trainers before he left, along with Evony’s help,” he replied, nodding his head toward me.
A warm grip of pride swelled in my chest.
“I appreciate your offer to help, but General Calvus has refused to concede power to Prince Owyn. He fled to Khasimir with his forces after the city fell. We can use all the soldiers we can get.”
A muscle feathered in Vander’s strong jaw, and his chin dipped.
“I apologize,” he murmured in a shaky voice. “I’ve just struggled since the last battle. Kayj left me… haunted.” His gray eyes found mine briefly before he looked away.
My chest squeezed as a sliver of shame shadowed his eyes.
Ronan’s eyes dipped to his hands, and his throat bobbed.
“I understand,” he finally said. “You’re a good soldier, Van. We need you. But we need you healed. You have my leave to take a couple months to remain in Aedrialis and train the recruits. I’ll let Einar know.”
Vander’s head dipped in a gracious nod as Ronan stood, ready to dismiss us as a soft knock sounded at the door.
“Come in,” Ronan commanded.
Marian poked her head in. “Apologies. I’m early,” she signed and stepped forward, her hunter green dress swishing as she strode into the large chamber. Her thin lips tilted into a wide grin, and her soft brown eyes warmed as they darted from mine to Vander’s.
“Heard the ships arrived,” she signed, her hand movements practically jubilant. “Good to see you. How fair my crewmates?”
Vander’s gray eyes stared blankly at her before they slid to mine, and his light brows pinched in pained apology.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, shaking his head and rubbing his hand across his face. “I fear during the battle on Kayj, I hit my head, and I simply do not remember how to communicate this way.”
Ronan paused, shuffling the papers on the large table, frowning as he looked up at Vander before translating Marian’s words for him. Van placed a large hand on his heart and nodded to Marian.
A shade of pink crept into the skin on Vander’s cheeks as he gave Marian an abbreviated update.
Marian’s eyes narrowed, the lines on her face deepening in worry as she surveyed Vander. She set a handful of scrolls on the table, and Ronan nodded toward Vander and me, indicating our dismissal.
We shuffled out of the Grand Council chamber and into the dimly lit hall.
“Could I perhaps bother you to show me to the barracks, Lady Evony?” Vander’s soft voice filled the hall in a hush, and my stomach did a pleasant flip as my eyes landed on his mouth.
“I’m no lady,” I replied, resisting the upward tug of my lips and the near-uncontrollable urge to giggle at the title. “But I’d be happy to show you to the barracks.”
I tucked my braids behind my ears and smoothed my deep blue tunic as I led him down the hall.
The twitteringof chickadees floated down from the tops of the pines as the late morning sunshine jutted through the space between branches, broken and scattered. Smatterings of star-shaped flowers poked through the dirt ground, fighting the undergrowth for the light coveted by the large trees. I plopped down on an old log, straddling the wide tree like it was a horse. The moss lining its sides dampened my leggings.
I pulled my gaze up as the chickadees grew louder, the unseen choir awakening the sleeping forest. The trees twisted and sighed as a spring breeze slipped its way through my mountain.
“There you are, my little star,” Mum’s voice sang from behind.
I twisted around and swung my legs, my little bare feet dangling over the side. Her bright red hair sparked like a flame each time her steps took her out of the shadows, the sunshine igniting the brilliance of its shade. She carried a handful of yellow starstay flowers in her fist, and she crinkled her nose as my eyes met hers. The crystal blue and spattering of freckles covering her cheeks were a match to my own.
“The chickadees are happy,” I said.
She hopped onto the log next to me and wrapped a warm arm around my shoulder, tucking me in to her. Her curly hair tickled my cheek as her gaze drifted to the treetops, and she clucked her tongue.
“Ah, not happy, my dear,” she murmured as her blue eyes scanned the little birds swooping high above.
“But they’re singing.” I frowned, following her gaze.
