Page 100 of Aryn

“Cato—”

“No,” he interrupts. “Don’t. I won’t apologize for it.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” I say carefully as I examine his face, searching for regret but finding only steadfast defiance. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You think I wasn’t the first one to volunteer?” He shakes his head, frustration lingering in the stilted movement. “No one knew what happened to you. They said you slaughtered a bunch of their warriors, then disappeared. When we couldn’t get anything else from them, we gave them a quick death. It’s more than they would’ve done for us.”

“We?” I prompt. He hesitates, focusing on my chest and refusing to meet my eyes. “Cato, what is it?”

His voice softens, turning cautious. “There’s something you should know, but I don’t know if I’m the one to tell you.”

“You can tell me anything,” I insist.

“I know that,” he agrees, nodding quickly, “but this is—”

Cato is cut off as the door opens, and a Dreven steps into the room carrying water and broth. The shadows hide his face for a moment, but as he steps forward into the light, recognition hits me like a physical blow. A lifetime of hoping and dreaming and praying builds into something so thick, I can barely breathe through it.

It’s like looking in a mirror.

He sets the tray down, and his gaze finally lifts to mine. I search his features—the curve of his mother’s jaw, the sharp angles of my own cheekbones. He steps closer, hesitant, like he doesn’t know if he should. His fingers tap against the edge of the bed in that same nervous pattern he used to drum as a child. I take his wrist with a hand that isn’t quite steady and turn it over.

An old scar travels up the pad of his palm, nearly erased by the years. I meet his eyes again, remembering them filled with tears as he stared up at me, no taller than my knees. He’d snuck into the blacksmith when I wasn’t watching and cut himself on the blades.

A million missed moments flash before my eyes as I take in the impossible sight of him before me. “Brihn?” I breathe.

“It’s really you,” he croaks before he rushes forward and throws his arms around me. A choked sob escapes my throat as I pull him in, my hands cupping the back of his head. He’s grown into a warrior and a leader, tall and strong, but for one aching moment I close my eyes and pretend he’s still the small boy who used to climb into my lap every night. I can almost feel the weight of that child against my chest, the way he’d burrow close and demand I tell him stories until he fell asleep.

“Father,” he chokes out, barely more than an exhale. “When they told me they traveled with you, I didn’t believe it. I didn’t think it was possible.”

“So much has happened,” I say, holding him tight. “There is so much to tell you. I don’t even know where to begin.”

He pulls back from the embrace, and I let my gaze trace over him—the high braid on his head, the rows of piercings climbing his ears like a ladder. He’s taller than me now, though our eyes are the same and he carries that same perpetual crease between his brows that always makes us look a little too serious. His nose is wider and his lips thinner, like his mother’s. A bittersweet ache settles behind my ribs at the sight.

His eyes dart around my face and down my frame, examining me just as closely. I wonder if I felt bigger in his memories, like he felt so small in mine. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived,” he says. “When I heard you were out there alone, I took a search party out to look for you. We must have passed each other on the roads.”

The memory of those passing hoofbeats flashes through my mind. “You were on sylvaren?”

He nods. “We were.”

“I heard the riders pass, but I thought it was more of the Viskari searching for me. I hid.”

“Bah,” Brihn snaps, shaking his head. “They are a plague on this place. We try to wipe them out, but they are like vermin. Always crawling out of their little holes and causing trouble.”

“I just… I can’t believe you’re here,” I say, my voice low with the lingering shock. “You stayed.”

“Of course I stayed,” he answers with a sad smile. “This is our family’s home.”

“What of the others from my time?” I ask.

“Many have moved on, but some are still here, yes. When you heal, we’ll visit everyone. I swear it.”

“My father?” I ask, glancing behind Brihn as if he might suddenly appear.

Brihn’s smile fades, and he slowly shakes his head. “I’m sorry. It’s been many years since his passing.”

Grief is a strange thing. Logic told me I would likely never see any of them again, but it doesn’t take away the pain of learning that as truth. “How did it happen?”

“There was a Drüinae homestead being held captive several days’ ride from here. He led a mission to rescue them, but his crew was ambushed. Grandfather sacrificed himself to get the others home.” He glances up with a sad, knowing smile. “Seems that runs in the family.”