With him by our side, there was no more talk of ancient Gyorian, though I’d clearly surprised Terran earlier. It was almost worth knowing, with each discussion, we ventured down an unreturnable path.
Voren vel’kora.
When he first said it, I’d been too surprised to respond. This time, I had been ready with another phrase, one I’d had to pull from the recesses of my training.
Vel’kora dra’ven.
Bound by choice, if you can keep me.
It should have been a game. Words traded in an ancient tongue, nothing more than verbal sparring.
But I knew better.
Terran wasn’t the sort of man to speak carelessly, and I wasn’t the sort to yield without calculating the cost. Already the lines I’d drawn in the sand were blurring.
The relic. The Gate. The balance of Elydor.
Those were the reasons I boarded this ship.
And yet, the more time I spent in Terran’s shadow, the more I wondered if I could truly separate the Gyorian from the mission… or if I even wanted to.
“Not for us, after all.”
I had been so deep in thought, I hadn’t even noticed the ship sailing away.
“A temporary stay.”
Terran gripped the railing in front of him with both hands. I tried not to imagine those hands gripping me.
“I thought Kael had taken a momentary leave of his senses. When we learned he’d changed course,” Terran said, “none could understand it. Until he uttered the words, ‘I will die for her, brother,’ I thought he would return with me. But Kael would not make such a claim unless he meant it.” He pushed back from the railing. “I thought him weak. A traitor.” His gaze found mine, sharp enough to pin me in place. “Now I’m not so sure.”
For a breath, there was no wind, no creak of the ship, only the press of Terran’s look, heavy with things unsaid.
It was not for me to convince him. Terran had to come to the same realization—that his father was well beyond saving—on his own.
“Mev was the catalyst,” I said instead. “Kael had been long-tortured by his role as a prince of Gyoria. When he served on the Gate Council, he learned tolerance of humans. But after the Gate closed, he reverted back to his old ways of thinking.”
“My father’s ways.”
He could, at least, recognize as much. “Aye. Yet Kael acknowledged the human’s place in his opening speech at the Summit. It was as if… he had to remind himself he hated them. Mev opened his eyes, aye. And I’m not discounting his love for her. But simply saying…”
What was I saying? Could Terran even understand it?
“Have you ever been in love?”
“No.”
His answer was so immediate, I knew it to be true.
“Then I cannot possibly explain what it makes someone do. Or how it might change their thinking,” I said quietly.
His jaw flexed, but he didn’t look away.
“I’m learning,” he murmured.
My heart thudded, the conversation quickly becoming personal as I ignored the implications of that comment.
“I watched it happen,” I tried again to explain. “The more he cared for Mev, it wasn’t as if Kael suddenly changed his thinking completely. But his love for her exposed your father’s prejudices in a way that became harder and harder to ignore. Does that make sense?”
