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“It will come to you,” Draven reassured. He raised the wine bottle. “In the meantime, more wine?”
I offered my empty cup and Draven refilled it. “It’s almost like before, but without the heat, and sand in every crack.”
“Everycrack?”
Our laughter washed away the earlier tension. “Our issues aside, I’m glad you’re here, Draven. Truly. I spent a long time alone, and it turned me into someone I have no wish to be. I know we’ve had our trials, but I’d like to remain friends, if you’ll have me.” Goodness, if my loose tongue were any indication, I must have mixed too much wine and mead.
“I’m glad to hear it.” He chinked his cup with mine. “And that’s worth celebrating.” Waving Ellyn over, he asked for a third bottle. “Won’t you drink with us, Ellyn?”
Ellyn glanced back at Jay, he gave permission with a nod, and soon all three of us were fast consuming Jay’s supply of fine wine in front of the fire, with Draven telling raucous tales of how he and his friends—in his rowdy pre-mature years—had been trapped outside War’s huge gate and had to climb back in, risking their reputations and their necks.
We laughed and jested, drank more wine than was right, and Ellyn told of the time Lark had allegedly tupped a well-known lord’s son, leaving him quite enamored and declaring his love for the Court of Love’s fool. In response, Lark had partnered the lord’s son with a stable hand, and the two had been joined a year later. Rather than laugh at Lark’s matchmaking, my heart’s ache grew, seeking its other half. My love for him was a potent thing. We hardly knew each other, except from all his notes and silly tales he’d posted beneath my door, and how I’d heard his soul in his music, seen him vulnerable while asleep on the pillow beside mine. The simple parts of Lark were where his truth shone. I missed that about him, and I missed him.
“Arin, are you all right?” Draven asked, interrupting my thoughts.
I turned my attention from the window and back at the pair. “My apologies, I… I think I’ll retire. I fear I’ve had too much wine. It’s making me melancholy.”
“I’ll come with you.”
Draven began to stand, but I waved him down. “Not necessary. I’m not so intoxicated I can’t make the stairs.”
He raised the wine bottle and waggled its remaining contents. “Or you could stay and finish this with us?”
Ellyn yawned into her hand. “I really must get to bed too. Two late nights are more than enough.”
“I refuse to let this go to waste.” Draven upended the bottle into his cup. “G’night, the both of you.”
“Willyoube all right getting to bed?” I asked him.
He laughed, as though I were mad to suggest he couldn’t handle his drink. “Don’t you worry, I’ll be the first down for breakfast.”
Ellyn walked with me up the stairs and along the landing. “My room’s just a little ways down here,” she said, then tripped on her own feet. We fell together against the wall, tangled up in limbs and laughing. She stilled, looking me in the eyes. “You have kind silvery eyes, Arin. I see why he likes you.”
“I don’t know what he sees in me, truthfully. If he sees anything at all.”
She snorted a chuckle and extricated herself from my hold. “He won’t tell you he loves you. He can’t.”
“He can’t love me?” I asked, ignoring my heart’s lurch.
“No, silly. Telling anyone he loves means telling the truth, and the truth frightens him. He almost lost his mind once after that beating you gave him. He lives in fantasy, it’s his life. Truth shatters his illusions and reminds him who he is, where he comes from. He never shows his pain…” She trailed off, as though saddened by her own words. “Gosh, so much of him makes sense now I know who he is.”
“You’re very profound when drunk.”
Her snort ruined the affect, somewhat. “When you spend hours peeling potatoes, you have time to think.”
We laughed and swayed our way back toward our rooms but stopped at the sight of two men and a woman gathered at the end of the corridor. Other guests, I supposed. Perhaps business was picking up. Strange, how they all wore identical riding cloaks. Strange too, their deep shade of blue.
“Can we help you, sir?” one of the men said.
I straightened. “You’re in front of my door, there. That’s my room.” I reached out. I could probably open it and slip by him; he’d left enough room.
“Goodnight, Arin,” Ellyn called.
“G’night—”
One of the strangers grabbed my wrist. “Arin, Court of Love’s prince, you are hereby detained—”
This was ridiculous. I yanked, but his grip held. “Sir, let go of my arm—” The other two lurched in, grabbed my shoulder, and spun me around. “What is this? You can’t do this. Are you charging me with a crime?” The blue cloaks, the color of Justice. Of course! I was too intoxicated for this.
