Page 64 of Swords of Soul and Shadow
Les brightened at the mention of her nephews. “I do love doting on them.”
Rose let out a soft snort. “Though Sullivan does not need any more chocolates from the confectionary.”
“It’s a shame he couldn’t enjoy this mousse with us tonight,” Lady Celeste said, taking a heaping spoonful. “We do both love chocolate.”
Ezekiel and Rose laughed before Ezekiel said, “I asked Reg to make it special. It’s Harlan’s favorite.”
Lady Celeste looked across the table at him. “Truly?”
Harlan dabbed the corner of his mouth with his cloth napkin. “It is, though I only ever eat it when I’m home on leave.”
She allowed herself a small smile, the first directed at him. His heart thumped a bit off-kilter. She said, “Then I must insist that you try the one at the Dantes on Haviland Lane. It is a heavenly experience.”
Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe the fact that he felt more at home than he had in ages, but he gave her a small smile back.
Ezekiel finished off his dessert, seemingly unaware of his friend and sister striking a silent truce. “She’s right, though I would recommend their mazelberry rum sundae. It’s exquisite enough to make a grown man weep.” He mimed brushing a tear. “I’m feeling emotional just thinking about it.”
His sister tore her eyes away from Harlan’s and burst into laughter. “Or maybe you’re a sad drinker.”
“I’d say you need coffee instead of scotch when we retire to the parlor, dear.” Lady Rose said, setting aside her spoon and gesturing for the footmen to clear the table.
The siblings laughed together as Harlan finished his dessert. Ezekiel then invited everyone back to the parlor where they could enjoy said coffees, heeding his wife’s advice.
It was customary for the men to enjoy a cigar away from the ladies after dinner, but Harlan found he liked the break in tradition.
The conversation stayed light and didn’t devolve into arguments, though Lady Celeste and Ezekiel continued to pick at each other good-naturedly. The camaraderie between the two siblings was entertaining, but it wasn’t entirely easy to watch. Even if Michael had lived, Harlan didn’t believe they would have been so close. Neither Ezekiel nor Lady Celeste had been forced to deal with the same hardships as Harlan.
After a few minutes, his headache crept back in, a throbbing that even the coffee and conversation couldn’t dim. He quietly excused himself to the lavatory, leaving his drink on the settee and exiting the room.
A servant closed the door quietly behind him. But instead of finding the lavatory, he leaned against the wall, his head resting against it, his eyes closed.
The pain radiated from the front of his skull to the back, then to the front again. He pinched the bridge of his nose, but it only offered fleeting relief.
He should see a medic about the headaches while he was in the capital. They had access to medicines and knowledge he didn’t have at the front. Headaches were simple compared to lodged shrapnel and amputation, after all—why waste resources on something inconsequential?
He pushed himself off the wall and wandered down the hallway a little. Standing still was only making his headache worse, though moving around might not help either. The reprieve for an hour or so had been nice, but fleeting.
He found himself back at the painting of the Nardens he’d glimpsed earlier. He’d spent his first twelve years nestled in the peaks in a one-room cottage with a dirt floor and spent nearly twenty years trying to escape them, only to return to defend them. They were a part of his blood and his bones, no matter what his surname might be.
“My brother says that painting doesn’t reveal the majesty of the mountains,” a soft voice said from his right.
He glanced aside to find Lady Celeste walking toward him, her deep blue evening gown swishing with her steps. She was tall for a woman; when she halted beside him, the top of her head was level with his chin. She nodded to the landscape. “I’d love to see them up close one day. We can only see their shadows from the estate.”
Harlan smoothed his mustache, debating what to say. Despite her prickles, he didn’t wish to upset her with his biased opinions of the mountains. He settled on something innocuous. “The sunrise crawling over the peaks in the morning can be breathtaking.”
She nodded, as if she knew exactly what he meant; then her eyes narrowed. “I was under the impression you spent most of your time on the eastern side of the range. The sunrise wouldn’t be over the peak.”
“You have knowledge of troop movements?” Harlan asked, neatly dodging the question hidden there.
She shook her head. “Not directly. I read a lot.” She held up her book. “That includes newspaper articles. They don’t say much, but the news we do get is rather vague and useless—unless you can read between the lines like me.” She glanced back toward the parlor. “Rose and I are both eager for Ezekiel to finish his term and return home. These aren’t a few isolated incidents, am I correct?”
Harlan opened his mouth, but nothing came out of it. She’d proven herself astute already, but to deduce such information through research and watered-down news articles, with no firsthand experience being on the front lines?
Andreading between the lines…what did that mean? He needed to look more closely at the news he’d scorned. If someone was leaking information, perhaps with some kind of code or otherwise…
He’d think on it later. For now, he turned back to the landscape. “Ezekiel has been a great asset to the medical corps, and it will be a dark day when he’s discharged.” He paused and tried to subtly rub at his aching temple. “He’s a light in the midst of a brewing storm.”
Hesitantly, she laid a hand on his upper arm. A very personal touch for someone so adamantly against him in the beginning. They were also alone without a chaperone. She seemed to realize as much after a moment and pulled back her gloved hand. “Thank you. Perhaps you’re not as hopeless as you look.”
