He paused, staring at the barrels that lined the back of the bar. His dark blond brow drew low. “Ilain’s grief is selfish,” he said softly. “She’s desperately mourning her loss of Auden because she never had to learn that love supersedes the physical. While she’s brokenhearted without our brother, I am not. My heart is heavy; my sorrow is deep. But I mourn the loss of Auden, not because I won’t see him again in this life. I mourn what he was never able to accomplish. Yet, I take comfort, knowing that he’s in the peace of the Heavens, resting in Allore’s arms.”
A heavy silence passed as Thom gave Vayden a small, encouraging nod. He appreciated the vulnerability the man offered. It was another reason he was impressed with the eldest Calder brother. He wondered if he could ever be so open, so trusting, so wise with his heart.
Rafferty’s empty tankard hit the bartop with aplunk. “You really believe in all that religious optimism, eh?” he asked, waving to get the barmaid’s attention.
Vayden smiled at his irreverence. “I do.”
“I don’t,” Rafferty said. “I think when you die, you’re dead.”
“That’s bloody insensitive, Raff,” Thom scolded.
Rafferty shrugged. “Why? It’s not really that sad. You get one life to make as much money as you can, make as many people miss you as you can, and earn as much respect as you can.Then you get to sleep for eternity, never having to worry about anything ever again.”
“And what’s the point of all that?” Thom returned. “Why earn money and respect if you’re just going to rot in a grave for eternity?”
“It’s the impact you leave that matters, Thommy-boy.” His eyes twinkled merrily. “If enough people care about you—whether ’cause you’re rich or ’cause you’re their friend—then they’ll make a bloody big deal out of you, telling stories and writing songs that’ll live on for generations.”
“You’d rather have songs written about you than to live in eternal bliss in the Heavens?”
“I’ve told you before: Allore and I made a deal. When I die—which won’t be until I’m fat with a head of white whiskers, mind you—Allore will forgive my predilections because I’ve done him more than one service.”
“Such as?” Vayden asked in amusement.
Rafferty gave a wry grin. “That’s between me and the big man now, isn’t it?”
Thom and Vayden chuckled at the weasel’s flippancy. The barmaid returned with a fresh pint, and Rafferty said, “Thanks, love,” adding a wink for good measure.
When the pretty young woman blushed at his attention, he took it as encouragement to continue. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Tilda,” she replied, playing with the end of one of her brown braids. She was a medium-skin-toned, curly-haired girl with a buxom figure. Despite her bashful countenance, her batting lashes made it clear she wasn’t quite as coy as she seemed.
Rafferty’s grin grew. “My, Tilda, that’s a lovely name. Matches the face.”
“I’m used to flatterers like you,” Tilda replied. “But I’ll warn you, my father runs this place, and he doesn’t take kindly to dishonorable men chasing his daughter.”
“Then maybe don’t run,” Rafferty quipped. At her look of confusion, he explained, “Then I won’t have to chase you.”
Tilda burst out with a girlish laugh but darted down the bar to clean up after a recently departed customer.
“Excuse me, gents,” Rafferty said with a wily look in his eyes. “I’ve got an impact to make and a song to inspire.”
And with that, Rafferty followed the young Tilda to the other side of the bar to continue flirting.
Together, Thom and Vayden shared a disapproving chuckle.
“Do you think that man has a single scruple?” Vayden asked.
“I’ve spent the last four months traveling with him,” Thom replied. “And no, he doesn’t even know what the word means.”
“Pity.” Vayden sighed, shrugging his shoulders in a resigned manner as though leaving Rafferty’s incurable case of misbehavior in Allore’s hands. “So you asked after me,” he said. “Is it my turn to ask after you?”
Surprised, Thom settled his ale back on the counter. “What about me?”
“You nearly died,” Vayden said knowingly. “That’s typically a notable event in a person’s life.”
Thom nodded slowly, and his eyes drifted to the bartop. “I’m all right,” he said, voice low and unfamiliar to himself. “I’ve been dreaming about it sometimes, but...I’ve dealt with that before. Not the dying part. However, I’ve been a soldier for almost six years now, and I’ve faced my fair share of trauma.”
“I understand,” Vayden said, and Thom knew he did.
