“And you?”
“And me, what?”Bastion asked.
“Will you let others make decisions for you?”
Bastion stilled again.His hand tightened around the brush.The circumstances of his recent knighting notwithstanding, Bastion could answer honestly.
“No.”
He turned, more thoughts ready to spill from his lips, but stopped at the look on Lawrence’s face.He couldn’t quite interpret it, but the man was nodding.One corner of his mouth pulled into a smile.
“She’s chosen well,” Lawrence said.He pushed off the door, leaving Bastion to stare after him.
__________
As he finished grooming Finn and mucking out his stall, Bastion’s eyes kept wandering to the battlements, now cast in gold, looking for any sign of alarm from the guards.When he closed the stall door and turned, he found Rowan crouched behind a hay bale.
“The pigs are done,” the boy murmured.Bastion waited to see if he had more to say.Rowan didn’t continue, so Bastion nodded and glanced back to Finn.
“Behave,” he said.The Thatian looked at him with liquid eyes that were far from innocent.“Don’t play dumb with me.I have no qualms about selling you for acorns.”
Finn reached across the door and lifted his lip, his meaning crystal clear.
You can’t get rid of me.
Bastion ruffled his forelock.Then, he gestured to Rowan, and together, they strode into the courtyard.He glanced again at the battlements.Vigilance demanded he climb back up there and soothe the anxiety blistering beneath his skin, but his stomach was louder.
Rowan scampered ahead as they entered the keep.He’d stop, glance over his shoulder, and wait for Bastion.The boy darted between shadows with the silence and caution of a mouse.The sight sent a pang through Bastion’s heart.He wondered how long it would be before Rowan moved freely through the world.
The mouthwatering scent of roasted pork preceded them into the Great Hall.Bastion scanned the room, hoping to find Ulla, but some inner compass told him she wasn’t there.His eyes landed on Minato instead.The Yvri sat between two fiddlers, strumming a long, narrow harp in his lap.The music rose above the murmur of voices filling the hall, the sound clear and pleasant.The relative calm surprised him.
Bastion inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly.He relaxed as he followed Rowan, who scurried through the townsfolk.
When Bastion broke through the crowd, he spotted Nesrin setting plates on the same small table from that morning.She bent towards Rowan for him to speak in her ear, but the boy only pointed.She turned and met Bastion’s eyes.
“You took your time,” Nesrin said.“Any slower and there might not have been any pig left for you.”
She sank into a vacant chair, motioning for them to join her.When they did, she pushed two plates towards them.
“How’s your Thatian?”she asked, picking up a slice of meat.
“Placated,” Bastion answered.He stuffed a pickle in his mouth and began to peel an egg.“What have you been up to this afternoon, Rowan?”
The boy looked up from his food, grease trickling down his chin.His eyes bounced between Nesrin and Bastion before he returned to eating.
A somber smile crossed Nesrin’s face.“We shelled walnuts for a while, and then, he helped Mistress Rose peel potatoes.”
“Ah, the days of a squire.”Bastion grinned.“It gets better, I promise.”
They ate for a moment, listening to the music.Then, Rowan said, “This music makes my head feel funny.”
Bastion blinked.Now that Rowan had pointed it out, he felt it, too, like a low hum tingling over his mind.He looked towards the musicians.The fiddlers played on, their faces reflecting a euphoric devotion to their craft.With his head bent and eyes closed, Minato plucked his harp with sharp claws.
A sheepish expression flashed across Nesrin’s face as Bastion turned to her.
“It’s my doing,” she admitted.“I asked Minato to soothe the townsfolk.”
Incredulous, Bastion asked, “Yvri can do that?”
