“Yeah, but you think of women as disposable pleasures rather than meaningful pursuits, Grenn,” another thrust his thoughts into the mix.
“I can’t say I’ve tried that particular cuisine during the hospitality we’ve received from Saeren…” Jarryn intoned as he reigned his horse to turn and face his men. “None of them have sung to my heart.”
“It’s got nothing to do with the heart. Other organs care more, it’s those ones you need to exercise, back me up here, boys!”
More jeers and cheers from the group.
“And what of you, Leander?” asked the soldier from the back who had spoken earlier. “The gods like mortaldelights, and you seem to have a proper predilection for... the finer things in life. Have you sampled the delights of many nations? Who does it best?”
Unsurprised to be brought into the conversation, Leander already had his answer prepared. “I am a fan of mangoes too, but I prefer apples, and I prefer when those apples are pressed into a decent cider.”
His eyes met the azure gaze of Jarryn, whose lips curled upwards in silent recognition.
A rustle through the trees signalled the return of the scout, who announced all clear to the group. Turning off the road, the soldiers, Jarryn, and Leo all made their way through the thicket to arrive at a small clearing.
Tents were erected, bedding put down. Most importantly, a fire was started for the men to warm themselves beside as a few soldiers headed out with bows to catch the evening meal. Rations had stretched as far as day three on the road, but the soldiers of Desanne were fine hunters and, as Leander’s stomach grumbled, he was already hoping for venison for the second night running.
Leander, who wasn’t consistent when offered food by those around him, gave no explanation for his unpredictable appetite. Lately, his meals had depended entirely on the generosity and whims of others. He constantly wrestled with his body’s desperate instinct to avoid the starvation he had endured while incarcerated—when his negligent captors occasionally seemed to forget he existed—while also battling his long-standing tendency to forgo food in favour of drink… when it became easier for him to fall into a bottle than to meet his nutritional needs.
“Cider, eh?”
Leander turned his head away from the fire to look at Jarryn as the prince perched on the log beside him.
The demigod chuckled. “Yes, cider. That or mead.”
“I had you pegged for a whisky drinker.”
“There isn’t a drink I have come across that I would say ‘no’ to,” Leander admitted softly.
Jarryn inclined his head, his smile wavering a little at Leander’s serious tone. The light-hearted jesting Jarryn no doubt expected when continuing their earlier conversation was not going to happen. Not when Leander was so suddenly overcome with embarrassment at his hedonistic lifestyle choices—something that had only gotten worse since being made mortal.
What made it harder for Leander was the knowledge that Jarryn had wholly witnessed him during his chaotic path towards self-destruction.
“I don’t have any of that, but I do have some wine, if you feel like joining me,” Jarryn waggled said wine skin between them with a raised eyebrow and a suggestive expression. He uncorked the skin and took a swig before offering it to Leander.
The demigod took the wine skin and drank his own, slightly longer, swig of the wine before making an appreciative noise that was somewhere between a hum and a groan.
Jarryn grinned. “That good, eh?”
“It’s been a while, even this pig’s shit tastes good.”
“I’ll have you know this is Saeren’s finest. You won’t find better outside of the king’s own cellars.”
Leander’s own eyebrow shot up. “Then how do you have a skin full of it?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Well… yes. I asked the question fully expecting to get a truthful answer. It wasn’t rhetorical.”
“I am not a thief,” Jarryn said lightly. “The barrel was an early birthday present from the king. This wine skin is but a fraction of what I have left to consume.”
“And you brought the whole barrel with you?”
“Of course. I was not about to leave one of my most prized possessions in Saeren as I ride away with my other most prized possession.”
That, for some reason, gave Leander a thrill of pleasure shooting away from his centre. “Then we’d better get to it.”
Jarryn shook his head with a rueful smile. “Hold up. You have no respect for alcohol. You drink it only for how it makes you feel in the end, not to savour it. I am not wasting my priceless barrel of wine on the likes of you.”
