He raked a hand through his hair. “I was busy.”
“You were hiding from me.” She gave another snort. “You knew I’d disapprove. What were you thinking, involving yourself with a queen?”
Naelin flinched. His mother knew about them already? And disapproved? That wasn’t anything she thought she’d have to contend with. She was a grown woman, for goodness’ sake. Parental approval hadn’t been a concern in decades, and it hadn’t occurred to her that it would be an issue now. After all, she wasn’t even certain that they were still in a relationship—they had barely touched since Redleaf.
“You should have been focused on your duty,” his mother continued. “Queen Fara should have been untouchable.”
Oh.
Not me.
Naelin didn’t know whether to be irritated or amused. Clearly, Ven’s mother was a woman with strong opinions who didn’t hesitate to express them. Naelin didn’t blame Ven for keeping his distance. The only surprise was that he’d offered to come here now.
“I don’t want to talk about her, Mother.”
“Bah, you never did want to talk about anything important. I’d expected that by now, you’d have learned to face straightforward honesty.” His mother tapped her foot on the branch. “You’d better come inside. Your sister won’t forgive me if she doesn’t get to see you. Brace yourself for tears. She’s liable to get emotional.” Without another word, she pivoted and then leapt across the thin branches of the upper canopy, as nimble as a squirrel. She barely disturbed the leaves in her wake.
“She hasn’t mellowed,” Ven said. “I thought she might have.” He turned to Naelin, and she noticed the shadows under his eyes, exaggerated by the angle of the firemoss light. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in weeks.
This has all been hard on him too, Naelin thought.He cared about Erian and Llor. And he cares about me.She laid a hand on his cheek, against his beard. His expression softened, and he took her hand. She thought about Queen Fara and the heir Sata and the losses he’d already suffered. He didn’t talk much about them, but knowing his kind heart, they must have cut him deeply.
“Coming here may have been a mistake. We can camp in the woods. Certainly done it before. I’d thought... I don’t know what I thought, but it was a bad idea.” He made a face. “Sorry to subject you to this.”
“If you want to stay, I can handle it,” Naelin said gently. Hanna had confirmed her children were being treated well. She could set aside her own impatience for one night, for Ven. “You can see your sister at least.” Besides, she was curious to learn more: who were these people who had shaped Ven? What had his childhood been like? She found herself wanting to meet his sister and see his home, which was surprising since all her thoughts lately had been consumed with Erian and Llor.I haven’t been fair to him. I haven’t been thinking of anyone else at all.For all her fine words about being the Mother of Aratay, everything she’d done had been for her children, to the exclusion of all else.
“Please don’t hold me responsible for whatever she says,” he said. “It’s not aimed at you; I’m the disappointment.”
“You’re the epitome of a hero. How can she be disappointed in you?” The longer she knew him, the more impressed she was.The more in love.She smiled to herself. After Renet, she never thought she’d feel this way about anyone again—and in truth, I never felt likethisabout Renet.
“She probably keeps a list,” he said, pulling out a length of rope and a clip. “Which she’s probably going to recite to you. Attach yourself to me. The upper branches can be precarious.”
Reaching out with her mind, Naelin brushed against the presence of a few spirits, mostly small and none close. “If you’re willing to wait a few minutes, I could summon an air spirit. There aren’t any close by.”
“Not many spirits would dare be near my mother,” Ven said. “Best leave them be. No sense upsetting her any more than I already have.” He drew out an arrow with a ring at its end and tied on a rope. Notching it, he aimed into the darkness and shot. She heard thethunkas it embedded itself into tree. He looped one arm around her waist, and Naelin wrapped her arms around him. Ven kicked off and swung on the rope through the upper branches. Dry autumn leaves brushed against her arms, and she heard them rustle and crackle as they swung through the shadows. She felt Ven raise his knees, and then they impacted on a platform. He tied off the end of the rope to one of the branches and unhooked the clips that held Naelin. “There should be a ladder...” He felt around the trunk. “Here. Follow me.”
Ven climbed first, followed by Naelin. She couldn’t imagine goinghigherthan they already were—soon, they’d be among the very tops of the trees. “Did you grow up in a bird’s nest?”
“Nearly,” he said. “Mother’s not a people person.”
Ven stopped, and that made Naelin stop as well. She heard a melody carried on the breeze: a light, wordless tune in harmony with the birds, dipping low to match the owls and then high to imitate a songbird in her nest for the night.
“That’s my sister,” Ven said, and this time there was real warmth in his voice.
“I look forward to meeting her,” Naelin said, and she meant it.
Ven hadn’t thought about home in a while, and hecertainlyhadn’t planned to return. It wasn’t until Arin planted the idea and he had the thought that the distraction would be good for Naelin—a way to slow her down, to keep her from doing anything rash—that he warmed to it. He hadn’t bothered to think about whether it would be good for him.
I’ve had worse ideas,he supposed.Not many, but a few.
At least no one was likely to die from this mistake. He’d just have to suffer through a night of belittling parental disapproval in front of the one woman he wanted to think well of him.Yeah, definitely on the list of bad ideas.
He saw home from the top of the ladder. It looked the same as he remembered: platforms that straddled the upper branches, evenly distributing their weight so they stayed balanced, with bridges between them and tarps on top of them. It was more a collection of tents than a house like you’d find midforest. “It’s nicer than it looks,” he told Naelin. “There are real beds inside.”
“It looks very nice,” Naelin reassured him.
He knew she was lying. Mother didn’t believe in fancy decorations—their home looked like it belonged to a soldier, because it did. Mother had been a champion for years, until she became border patrol. He’d learned from her to consider all of Aratay his home, not one nook of it. She used to say every tree was their bed, every rock their table, every stream their sink. Still, this didn’t feel like just another tree.
I am getting sentimental in my old age,he thought.
