“One time. An isolated incident.”
“Oh, really? I beg to differ.”
“What would you know of it, anyway? How can youjudge my life and decisions when you cannot even fathom?—”
“Can’t I? Can’t I have any inkling of what it is like to have everything and then lose it in a matter of moments? Can’t I know just what it is to have no chance of exoneration?”
Leander opened his mouth to argue, but something in Jarryn’s tone made him pause. He wasn’t used to hearing Jarryn speak like this—without the usual barbs or sharp edges.
The rain pounded harder outside, filling the silence between them.
Leander leaned against the wall, arms still crossed as he stared at the floor. “You always have a way of making me feel like I’m not enough,” he muttered.
Jarryn blinked, clearly surprised. “That’s not what I?—”
“Yes, it is, Jarryn,” Leander interrupted, his voice quiet but with confidence as he finally aired his grievances. He didn’t have alcohol to loosen his tongue tonight, but still the words fell freely. It was as if the storm outside gave permission for the expression of grievances in their little harbour from the elements. “Every time I’m sent on some public duty, it’s like you’re waiting for me to mess up. Like you expect me to. You’re no better than my father.”
Jarryn was silent for a long moment, his brow furrowed in thought. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. Leander had to strain to hear him over the rain pounding on the tiled roof of the barn. “It’s not that I’m waiting for you to fail. It’s that I don’t want you to.”
Leander looked up, meeting his gaze. “Why?”
Jarryn sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. “Because your failure isn’t just yours. It affects all of us—me included. We may not get along?—”
“Understatement of the century.”
“—but it feels as if we’re both tied to the same fate. You were right, I’ve given your words a lot of thought: we must work together, lest we fall divided.”
Leander was taken aback by the honesty in Jarryn’s words. He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected to hear concern from someone who always seemed to view him as a rival, an obstacle. An enemy.
“Leander,” Jarryn began slowly, “I’m not the only one with pressure on my shoulders. You act like you’re above it all, everything in this mortal world. Nine, I canfeelyour distaste for everything about Cariun, from its people to its ants. But I think I know what’s at stake for you too.”
Leander’s eyes flickered, and for a moment, he considered simply ignoring the comment. The conversation was over for now.
But then Jarryn spoke again, voice low. “You’re right, though. I’ve spent my life trying to prove I’m more than just a title. That I can stand on my own.”
The rain seemed to fade into the background as the two men sat there, their rivalry so insignificant when compared with the sheer power of the storm outside. Leander studied Jarryn’s face in silence, seeing for the first time the weight he carried, the exhaustion in his eyes that matched his own.
It occurred to the demigod briefly that his mother had purposefully sent this storm in an effort to give the pair the chance to reconcile their differences while they were stuck with each other with no third party to act as adjudicator.Here, surrounded on all sides by rain and thunder, they were at Leía’s mercy. They had nothing but time to speak and consider their tumultuous relationship.
“I guess we’re not so different,” Jarryn said finally, his voice stronger than the quiet softness it had held before. More certain.
Leander looked at him, his usual cold and calculated expression replaced with something more thoughtful. “Maybe not.”
They fell into a quiet, uneasy truce as the storm raged on, in a space where animosity no longer felt important.
There wasa crack of lightning and a rumble of thunder, which broke Leander out of his almost peaceful rest. The horses reared and the demigod was up in a heartbeat, over to soothe the horses.
Jarryn was up and standing, moving over beside him only moments later.
“You should rest, Jarryn,” Leander admonished, noticing Jarryn was still favouring one side over the other.
“I’m fine,” the prince muttered as he focused on calming down his stallion.
Jarryn leaned against the wall as his hand stroked his stallion’s nose, calming him. He stared out at the rain through the uncovered window. “Strange, isn’t it? How we’re always at each other’s throats, but here we are, stuck in a storm with no Lucien to bang our heads together. Like some bad joke.”
Leander snorted, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “If it’sa joke, the gods have a twisted sense of humour. I wouldn’t put it past my mother to lock us away together like this.”
Jarryn glanced at him and Leander had the strange sense that he wanted to ask a genuine question about his immortal kin but thought better of it. “Maybe they’re trying to tell us something,” he joked instead.
