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“Is it sharp enough?” he asks, looking at the knife in my hand as I move next to him.
“It sunk into Jaren’s side well enough.”
The captain rubs at his eyes, taking a full breath as my words permeate, obviously not too keen on sharing a blade with Jaren. “Besides,” I continue, unable to help myself as I watch his queasiness, “only one man lost his life with this one. Such a sharp blade next to such a soft neck. All it took was a small cough, and—” I slice a finger across my throat. My flippant remark now earns a bored stare from the man in front of me as he has clearly caught onto my game. “I sharpened and sterilized it last night. Now close your mouth and let me do it,” I say. He releases a sigh before complying, tilting his face upwards.
I place a hand behind his head. My thumb pulls his skin taut as I start from the edge of his jaw, sliding effortlessly toward his chin. With each swipe, I wipe the remnants of soap and cut hair onto a small cloth draped over his shoulder.
After a few more strokes, I'm suddenly aware of how my body is pushed close into his. Our legs are oddly entwined, and his hands could easily close around me and pull me in with a single motion. I feel his warm breath on my neck as I work, and a shiver drives up my spine.
“So, Captain. Where does the nameMontgomerybear from?” I ask, breaking the quiet.
Silence doesn’t bother me necessarily. But being so close to him— noting the different hues of blue dotting his eyes and the tightly drawn muscles around his face. He’s never affected me this way, and I don’t know what to make of it. It now feels necessary to focus on something else entirely.
“Port Riga. Northeast Felshan,” he responds.
Port Riga. I’ve never been there, but then again I’ve never been anywhere other than Turin and its outskirts. I continue to pry, giving me something else to gather my thoughts around rather than my racing heart each time his breath hits my skin. “Are your parents alive? What do they do for work?”
He looks at me now, and I pause my blade so he can fully answer the question. “Yes. They are alive. My father, well. He does many things. Trading. Marketing. Fishing. Building. Contracting. Gardening. He loves it all, and he seems to be good at all of it. I guess that’s common though, for a son to think his father can do no wrong.”
I nod, wondering what it would be like to grow up with such a man. “And what about your mother? Does she help him? Take care of children? Do her own thing?”
“My mother is always up in whatever my father has going on. Equals in everything. Sometimes he stayed home, taking care of me and my siblings while she was out at the market with vendors. Other times she was home, attempting to teach her boys some manners while my father was out on business. Both have their own assets to bring to the table, and they take advantage of their strengths together.”
I can’t help but stare at him. I don’t blink, mesmerized by his descriptions, more questions springing with everything he tells me. What would it be like to grow up with both parents? To learn trades? To be taught manners and watch the joy grow around you?
Mother did her best, and I always knew she loved me. She only spoke bits and pieces about my father, what I could pry from her anyway. Now that she is gone, I wish I had some direction. Some idea of who I am and where I come from— everything that Roan seems to have. It’s hard not to feel the tiniest bit of envy.
“How many siblings do you have?” I ask.
“Three. A younger brother, and two younger sisters.”
“Your mother had four children?” I say, more in exclamation than a question. He nods, his eyes alight.
I remember Aiden’s family and all his younger sister’s. It’s not that large families are rare, but most avoid children as much as they can. Too many mouths to feed with too little food to go around. “What in Haythen? I think I need to meet the strongest woman in Port Riga. Learn her secrets.” This earns a laugh, a real laugh from deep within the captain. It’s the first time I’ve heard the sound, and I don’t hate it.
I continue, “So, what does your mother think of her oldest son,the captain?” His laugh stops, the chuckles dying out like ripples in calm water.
I thought such a lady would be proud. It’s no small feat running the entire military of Turin, training those throughout many of Felshan’s other cities as well. I know Marg likes to have more say in the Palace Guard, but if she were gone, he’d be in charge of that too.
“I think… she misses her son.” His voice is quiet, his gaze gone distant. Sadness shows from behind his usual, stony features, and I want to both close the door to it and bring it even more to the surface.
I can’t help myself but ask, “Why does she miss her son? Do you not get home often?” I’ve stopped any movements completely at this point, my blade hanging in the air above his face. I didn’t realize until now how little I actually know of him and his life.
“No, unfortunately. I don’t. There’s not a whole lot of time off from a position such as the one I hold. I used to spend summers home when I was younger. But— I haven’t been back in almost four years.”
Four years. If my mother were alive, I would see her every chance I had. I wouldn’t let a single day pass without giving her a hug, listening to her voice, helping her cook and prepare our food each morning. It would be my life’s mission to be with her as much as I could.
“Why don’t you spend summers home anymore?” I ask, sure that he will soon tire of my questions, or that I will finally hear enough and move on.
“I lived at the palace as a boy. Raised up with Prince Evander and Princess Adalena. The plan was always that I would return home after my royal education. Take over the family business. But things don’t always turn out the way you think they will. I became captain and… that was that.”
I picked up bits and pieces from Tess and Liam. It’s not shocking news to hear he spent time at the palace. But it would seem he spent quite a bit of time. More than I knew.
My curiosity wins over my better judgment. “So you were friends with the late prince? The one they hold the lantern memorial for every year? And Princess Adalena?”
His body stiffens at my question, and I realize too late how insensitive it must seem. My heart pounds, waiting for his firm dismissal and my subsequent embarrassment to spill over.
A few moments pass, and I desperately wish I could take it back.Nice going. Bring up the man’s dead friend. I return my blade to his face, attempting a few more even strokes while I inwardly roll my eyes at myself.
