Page 78 of The Flame and the Forsaken

Erran whipped his head upward. “Come again?”

“You been here at all, Rutland, or dallying about in your own emotions as usual?”

“I was here,” Erran replied. Khallum laughed at the lie, and he caved, joining in.

“I ken your father told ye why we uninvited the other families for Esme’s blessing.”

“Sessaly, actually.”

Khallum snorted. “Aliksander will have his hands full with that one.”

Erran grimaced. “Aye, well, right now she’s gloating.”

“Wasnae as bad as ye think,” Khallum said. “Unless you’re Mariel.” He shoved back from the table without touching it and moved to the open window. The ledge was coated in a hundred years of bird waste, a faded tableau of chalky white and olive green. “What happened on that island?”

Erran blew out, whistling. “We crashed. We adapted. We survived. We...”

“Fucked? Finally? So we’ll never have to hear about her scars or your freckles again?” Khallum chortled at Erran’s polite silence. “Your father sent word you and Mariel had settled your differences. Had hoped to see signs of it myself, but I ken I’ll be hoping until I’m dead and burning on the pyre, aye?”

“Wedid,” Erran answered, unwilling to elaborate on what was a private matter. Somehow, it seemed wrong to tell anyone about all he and Mariel had shared, even his oldest friend. Sam had only been given the broad strokes, just enough to piece together a simple understanding. Hamish even less. “I don’t know what came over me out there. I don’twantyour sister anymore, Khal, no matter how it looked. I’m happy for her. I’ve moved on.”

“What’s good for you is you’ll have two days to correct that impression.” Khallum traced his knuckles along the fossilized excrement. “I’m nay one to offer advice on the doings of the heart.”

“That ’cos you don’t have one?”

Khallum belched. “How’s that?”

They both laughed. Erran relaxed.

“Gwyn is a good wife. That ratsbane king can gargle my sack into eternity, and he’ll never hear a whisper of gratitude from me, but I’m grateful for her, every day. She isnae who I’d have chosen for myself, but she’s right for me. Find the same true of Mariel, for you?”

Erran nodded.

“Ye told her so?”

“Not in so many words.”

“Then do as I do. And show her what ye cannae say.”

Show her. He’d tried the night before, in the bath, and had mucked up even that. But there was no point in asking Khallumhowbecause he was the last person he’d take romantic advice from.

“Howareyou, Khal? With everything?”

“All this?” Khallum’s boots scuffed the stone as he veered away from the window. “Wasnae how I saw it happening.”

“I know.”

“Well enough. Have my heir and a lassie to dote on. No doubt more on the way. My siblings are content in their own unions, so I donnae need to raise banners to free them. The Southerlands has its troubles, but I ken we’re thriving as best we can, despite the ratsbane’s increasingly criminal feckin’ taxes.”

It wasn’t what Erran was asking, but Khallum already knew that. Khoulter Warwick had been a most unusual man, especially for a leader of Warwicktown. He could be equally cold and callous as warm and protective. Yesenia had adored him. Honestly, so had Erran. So many of his favorite boyhood memories involved the man, who had been as a second father to him. Hard but fair, and with a rare but incredible playfulness missing in most hardened leaders. “I miss him too.”

Khallum tensed, facing away. “Aye. Every day.”

“Shall we drink to his memory?”

“I’ll send for the ale.”

“Desi,I don’t want to talk,” Mariel said when their toes hit the sand. They had both removed their boots when they reached the tall grass lining the rugged shore. “So if that was your aim?—”

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