Kieran snorted, thinking Kiel was making a joke. Only warriors of the greatest skill and most unbesmirched honor becamechatok, highly regarded mentors of warriors. Gaelen vel Serranis, the rebel warrior who’d willingly thrown himself down the Dark Path to avenge his twin sister Marikah’s murder, was the last Fey who would ever qualify for such an esteemed position.
Kiel wasn’t joking. “We lost too many masters in the Wars, and of those who survived, the greatest and most experienced gave their lives to build the Mists. War will soon be upon us again, and we cannot afford to be ill-prepared. You have skills we all need.” The Water master shrugged, the gesture a graceful ripple. “So,aiyah, Gaelen, Iamasking you to be mychatokfor whatever levels of the Cha Baruk you think I have not truly mastered. Will you grant me this honor?”
Gaelen was openly taken aback. “That was sarcasm, vel Tomar, not a serious offer. I have beendahl’reisen. I chose the Shadowed Path. I walked its bitter trails for a thousand years rather than ending my life in honor, as a worthy Fey would have done.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that you have skills we all need. Even the Feyreisa advised us to learn from you.”
“So she did.” Gaelen’s lips pressed tight together. “And as I promised her, I will teach you what I know, but only as a brotherFey. I will not dishonor thechatokwho mentored me by pretending I have the right to stand among their honored company.”
“Then I will accept your instruction, and I thank you for your willingness to share your knowledge and warrior’s skills with me.” Kiel bowed smoothly, his waist-length, blond hair spilling forward like gleaming falls of sunlight.
Gaelen was silent for a moment, his black brows drawn slightly together as he regarded the other man. “You are surprising, vel Tomar. And I thought the world held no more surprises for me.”
Kiel smiled, his eyes as blue and guileless as a calm sea. “I am a Water master, Gaelen. There is always much more to us than shows on the surface.”
Gaelen laughed. “That I will grant you.” He glanced at Kieran. “And you, puppy, are clearly an Earth master. Head hard as a rock. Will stubborn as stone. And so resistant to change, it will take an earthquake to move you once you’ve settled into place. Just like your father.” When Kieran scowled, Gaelen grinned. “Ah, the Feyreisa will have to forgive me. Pricking that pride of yours is too much fun to give up altogether.”
Kieran snarled.
Gaelen just laughed again and glanced at Kiel. “Where’s vel Jelani?”
Kiel pointed towards a small copse of white-trunked, golden-leafed Shimmering Lady trees on the uppermost level. “Up there, with the Feyreisa and her sisters.”
“Beylah vo, vel Tomar.”
“Sha vel’mei,” Kiel replied as the infamous older warrior raced off towards the shimmering trees.
Kieran punched Kiel in the arm. Hard.
“Ow!” Kiel rubbed his biceps. “What was that for?”
“‘Be mychatok’?” Kieran exclaimed. “‘Teach me what you know’? Tairen’s scorching fire! What the Seven jaffing Hells are you thinking? You’re my blade brother, and you’re taking sides with the enemy?”
Kiel glanced at Gaelen’s retreating form, then back at Kieran. “He’s your uncle, not the enemy. Besides, the Feyreisa told us to learn from him.”
“He’s adahl’reisen.”
“Formerdahl’reisen,” Kiel corrected.
“Where do you think he’s been this past week? Praying in the Bright Lord’s church? He’s been withthem, the ones who walk the Shadowed Path.”
Kiel’s brows rose over eyes as deep and blue as the Lysande Ocean. “What difference does it make if he has? He islu’tanto the Feyreisa. In life and in death, he is bloodsworn to protect her.”
“You’re too trusting, Kiel.”
Kiel’s blond brows shot up. “Me? I wasn’t the one who stood there while he stripped my blade and used it against me.”
Kieran’s back teeth ground together. “He’s insufferable.”
“Admit it,” Kiel said, “insufferable may be exactly what some of the masters at the Academy need to shake them up and challenge their methods, to get them thinking about new ways to train our warriors. And,” he added with a smirk and a sidelong glance, “exactly what some rock-headed Earth masters I know might need as well.”
“Get scorched.”
Near the copse of Shimmering Lady trees that overlooked the Garreval, Marissya, Ellysetta, and the twins planted a freshly tilled flower bed with the rosebushes and flowers Lauriana Baristani had loved most. Rain’s task at the Lake of Glass had given Ellysetta the idea of creating a small memorial garden: a little something of Mama to leave behind for Papa and the twins, here where Papa could sit and look out over Celieria while the twins played Stones on the lawn nearby.
Ellysetta hummed under her breath as she dug her spade into rich, dark soil and made a hole to receive the last of the fragrantpink Heartsease Lorelle was waiting to deposit. Beside her, Marissya patted into place the last of Love’s Promise, the exquisitely perfumed red rose that had been Mama’s favorite.
Ellie sat back on her heels to survey the work. “I think we’re ready for the statue,” she told Bel as the twins picked up two full watering pots and enthusiastically irrigated the new plantings. “Gently, kitlings,” she advised as mud splattered on their dresses. The two looked up innocently, and she bit her lip to keep from laughing at the thick layers of dirt smeared across their small faces. Lillis and Lorelle had yet to discover the gardener’s art of brushing back wayward strands of hair with a forearm rather than soil-begrimed hands. “All right, that’s water enough. Come away, girls, and let Bel set the statue.”
