It didn’t help that Jarryn was making no effort to hide his own distaste for what was happening. He hated the lie, hated that they had to pretend—yet seeing the woman’s relief, seeing the fear leave her face, Leander knew it was making Jarryn question everything he believed.
It was distracting, feeling Jarryn’s own moral compass at war within him.
It was distracting because, try as he might, Leander couldn’t escape the very visceral need to have Jarryn respect him. Their time together, especially recently, had done nothing to dispel the images of that breathtakingly attractive man he had insulted in Jasmine’s brothel all those months ago.
Now they were…friendsof a sort, that irresistible charm was something Leander could not escape.
He could sense Serai lingering not far from the house, though, and he wanted to be gone before the woman passed and the Goddess of Death came to guide her on.
Gently, slowly, he manoeuvred so that the old man could sit by his wife, giving him her hand to hold. “She hasn’t long now,” he murmured. “Stay with her.”
As Leander stood and turned back toward the door, Jarryn stepped aside. When they were outside, the rain had started to fall lightly, tapping against the roofs of the houses in a steady rhythm. Leander didn’t speak immediately, his expression making it clear he was waiting for Jarryn to lay into him.
“You didn’t even hesitate,” Jarryn finally said, his voice low, though not as accusatory as it had been in Leander’s head.
Leander met his gaze as the rain cooled his skin, his tone unyielding in his confidence that what he did was right. “I gave her peace.”
Jarryn looked away as he tried to make sense of his own thoughts. “But it wasn’t the truth.”
“No,” Leander replied. “Sometimes, the truth only brings more pain. You saw how scared she was. Do you think telling her that her granddaughter was dead would have eased that?”
Jarryn swallowed. “I don’t know.”
Leander stared at the prince with a hard expression, tired from the emotional expense of the trip to this ravaged village. “Some people cope well with the inevitability of death, but only for themselves. They don’t manage when it is a loved one who has died, and that woman was such a person.”
“I know that but…” Jarryn trailed off, perhaps unable to find the words he was looking for.
Leander sighed softly. “Not every situation is as simple as truth and lies, Jarryn. Sometimes kindness is more important than honesty.”
Jarryn didn’t respond immediately, his mind evidently still warring with itself.
Leander didn’t have the same compunctions. He had always believed in the value of truth—had been raised to hold it above all else, for how could he appreciate the strength of a lie if the truth was all but meaningless.
He watched as Jarryn looked back into the house, where they could see the old man’s shoulders were shaking with the effort to keep his tears from falling as his wife breathed her last. Seeing the woman’s peaceful expression in her final moments, he knew from Jarryn’s own expression that he wasn’t so sure what to believe anymore.
“Maybe it was the right thing.” Jarryn said after a moment, his voice softer, unsure.
Leander looked at him, his gaze steady. “I think it was what she needed. And sometimes, that’s the best we can do.” He spoke with a wisdom beyond his twenty-eight years, the wisdom of a seasoned god, used to dealing with the suffering of mortals.
He glanced around as he dragged a hand through his hair and huffed out a breath. “Let’s go, I’m not in the mood to run into my aunt, and I can sense her very essence lurking on the periphery of this village… so much death.”
Mounting their horses, Leander and Jarryn joined their soldiers.
The rain now fell steadily, saturating the world aroundthem into a grey blur. Leander was silent beside Jarryn, his expression one of serenity as they sat atop their horses, and the demigod was reminded of their evening not long ago where they had been forced to seek shelter in an abandoned barn.
Jarryn looked at him, his mind still tangled in conflicting thoughts that he didn’t know how to express but allowed his feelings to do the talking for him. “You risked the wrath of the gods by pretending to use divine powers you no longer possess,” he said quietly.
“Yes, I did.”
“Most people wouldn’t have.”
Leander’s gaze shifted to him, something softer in his eyes now. His hair now stuck to his forehead, he wiped it out of his eyes. “Maybe. But I couldn’t let her suffer, not when I could help.”
Jarryn hesitated, then added, his voice barely above a whisper, “You always do that—help, even when you don’t have to. Even with me.”
Leander raised an eyebrow. “Is that your way of saying ‘thank you’?”
Jarryn laughed softly, shaking his head. “No. But… maybe it’s my way of saying I get it now. Why you do what you do.”
