“Sorry.” I looped my arm in with his as Oraik groaned. “Kalcedon’s waiting for me. I promised him I’d be home for at least a week.”
“When all I get is two days? Your cruelty knows no bounds. And it’ll take how long?”
“A year, give or take, though some of that will be in Sorrow instead of visiting the stones. I’ll visit you after. Better yet, you visit us.”
“Hmph. Thank the Goddess I have Damianos to keep me company.”
“I’m sure you’ll make lots of new friends during that time,” I told him. “I’m glad you’re getting along with your guard.”
Oraik leaned towards me and cupped a hand to my ear.
“He has the prettiest eyes,” he whispered to me.
“What? You aren’t supposed to know that, are you?” I hissed back.
“Well, he can’t wear the shroud all the time,” Oraik said with a giggle. “I mean, he has to take it off to eat. And sleep. And… kiss.”
“Oraik,” Damianos said, the guard’s voice outraged. “Why would you—that’s not—!”
“A Cachian? You?” I asked, startled off my guard.
“Well, stop eavesdropping,” Oraik shot to Damianos over his shoulder. “It’s a very bad habit.”
“But I thought…” I continued, baffled at this turn of events. “You’re not—and you hated…”
“I’ll tell you all about it,” he promised.
“Meda!” Dareios yelled from the top of the slope. “Momma says you’re taking forever.”
“I did not!” a woman’s voice answered, high and nervous. “Take all the time you want! By all means, I’d never dream of rushing—” my mother appeared beside my brother, looking harried and waving her arms.
“He’s not a king, ma,” I yelled. “He abdicated.”
“Well, in that case. Hurry up! It’s getting cold!”
“Do you think they’ll like me?” Oraik whispered, tightening his grip on my arm.
“Everyone likes you,” I thought I heard Damianos mutter.
“They’ll like you just fine. Oh, but please don’t tell my parents about anything too near-death, would you? They won’t let me leave if they knew how many times we all almost passed over.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. But anyways, I almost died a lot more times than you did.”
“That’s the worst competition ever,” I grumbled. Oraik tipped back his head, and laughed.
Chapter 58
“Whatever, idiot,” Kalcedon said. He rolled his eyes. The Sorrowing Lord knelt on the ground, with dirt up to his elbows. I, much more intelligently, sat on a bench with my clothes clean and a book beside me. Just close enough that I could feel the magnificent, familiar burn of him.
“I’m just saying, you might want a roof when it rains.”
“And I’m just saying, that’s what magic’s for.” He tucked another seed into the ground, one of the dried ones I’d brought him from his room at the tower.
“What about bugs?”
“Magic,” he countered. “You really don’t get this, do you?”
“So anyone can just see right in?”