“She’ll never be with me out of the shadows of her room and my forest,” Draven said, staring at the ground. “I’ve accepted that, and I’ll take whatever she will give me. Perhaps one day our world won’t look on us as though she is less than the woman she is simply because of her being with me.”
“You sure about that?” Hagen questioned. “Looked pretty cozy at those gates.”
“Loving me at this time means giving up her crown,” Draven argued. “I won’t pretend to think she’ll ever do that.”
“That’s the thing about real love, mate,” Hagen said. “It’s worth giving up your crown for.”
Draven huffed. “She loves that crown.”
“She looks damn fine in it too,” Hagen agreed. “She can wear it all around Dahrkenhill. Shit, she can wear it while I’m helping you consummate that marriage.” He winked, to which Draven finally managed a laugh.
Hagen clapped his back hard. “There he is,” he mocked.
“You keep saying marriage as if it’s ever happening.”
“Already taken care of. Come through instead of the Preymoor on your way home. I’ll help you make the sword to present for your proposal. Naddi can gather the lunaren flowers. He and I will take care of all the details. You just get her there.”
Draven smiled, cheeks unexpectedly reddening at the thought of it. “Sword wouldn’t do,” he disagreed. “She prefers a bow. And anything you think planning-wise, double it and make it all black.”
Hagen grinned at the sky. “There’s a woman after my own heart.”
“You realize you and Naddi would kill each other in the process of this?”
“That’s the entire reason I want him to help.”
“—Fuck all, you got uglier.”
Draven hadn’t realized they were at the edge of town until he heard Nadir’s voice, and the banter from him caused him to slow his pace, a smile slowly growing.
Nadir was leaning against one of the stone pillars at the steps waiting on them. He’d changed from his riding clothes and pulled his thick, dreaded hair all the way up to a bun.
“I see you still haven’t brushed your hair,” Hagen grunted back.
“At least I have enough hair that I don’t have to shave the sides to make it appear thicker.”
Hagen laughed. “I can’t wait to catch it with a knife one day, mate,” he said. “Watch you cry when I cut it short.”
Nadir straightened, shoulders rounding. “Careful how you threaten my hair, mountain man,” he glowered.
“What—is it going to lash out at me with its own knife if I do?”
“Alright,” Draven cut between them, stifling his laughter. “Enough.”
“You got that herb you owe me?” Nadir asked, to which Hagen met Draven’s gaze.
Draven reached in his pocket and paid the five golds, and Hagen scoffed quietly as he withdrew a sack from his pocket and slapped it in Nadir’s outstretched hand.
“What’s that about?” Nadir asked, nodding upwardly at the gold exchange.
“Venari always pays his debts,” Hagen said. “Unlike some.”
“Oi, that was once—“
“Right, enough,” Draven interjected between them. “At least get onto the sand before you start killing each other.”
They left their boots at the stone pillars and then made their way over the dunes and thick sand, the beach breeze wrapping around them and making Draven redo his hair twice just in the walk over.
“I don’t like this beach,” Nadir said after a while, hands in his pockets as he looked out over the horizon.
