“Hearing that I fucked up makes you happy? Thanks,” he grumbled, trying not to sulk when Xan just laughed.
“No, that’s not why I’m happy. I’m just glad that you’re not basing all your assumptions about your husband on prejudice and rumors.”
“To be fair, he has tried to kill me on multiple occasions, and more than a few of my scars are due to him.”
“That defense would only work if you hadn’t left your own marks on him in the past, as well.”
Syrus winced, thinking of the dark bruises marring Eiri’s wrists. He hadn’t felt guilty at the time, but now, his conscience twinged. It was one thing to hurt each other in a battle, but this was different. They were married now, and even if Eiri had cut him first, he knew he shouldn’t have responded with violence.
“I don’t want to fight with him anymore, but I don’t know what to do,” he said softly, meeting his cousin’s eyes. “My mother expects me to force him into line and make him start acting like a Vaetrean, but…”
“But?” Xan leaned in closer, resting his hand on Syrus’ wrist.
“But the more I get to know him, the less I want to do that,” he confessed. “Why can’t he be who he is? It’s no secret I married a Canjiri raider. He’ll always look Canjiri, no matter what he wears. I guess I don’t understand why it’s so important that he pretends to be like us.”
“And that, my dear cousin, is why you make a better soldier than a politician.” At Syrus’ confused look, he shook his head. “It’s not about him, really. It’s about power.”
“I don’t understand.” This was why Syrus preferred his life as a soldier. When he stepped into a fight, he knew who his enemy was. When it came to politics, friends became enemies in the blink of an eye, and everyone was only out for themselves.
“If Queen Delia can parade Eiri around dressed as one of us, acting like one of us, it shows others that she was able to break a proud raider. It makes the Canjiri look weak. The longer he defies her, though, the more the tables turn. People will start to question her authority if she can’t manage to get a single Canjiri nobody to fall into line.”
“Which means she’s never going to let this go,” he murmured. “As long as he refuses to bend to her will, she won’t relent on either of us.”
“Unfortunately for you, you’re right.”
“So what do I do? I don’t want to fucking break him, Xan.” Not anymore. Maybe it was because they knew each other a little more now, or maybe it was just that bleak, resigned look on Eiri’s face and how he couldn’t get it out of his head, but the idea of forcing him to give up who he was just didn’t sit right with him anymore.
“Give me some time. I’ll see what I can come up with. In the meantime, I suggest you keep doing what you’re doing. Get to know him, build up the trust and respect between you. Whether either of you wants to admit it, you’re on the same side in this fight, and you’re going to need each other if you’re going to get through this in one piece.”
Chapter 18
Eiri
Yesterday’s stormstill raged the following morning, with no end in sight. Eiri woke to the rapid tapping of heavy raindrops against the spelled glass window and the howling wind as it whipped around the towers of the palace. The sun lay buried behind thick, dark gray clouds, and from here, he could watch wild waves pounding the docks. Only the most foolhardy mainland captains would set out in this weather and all had battened down to wait it out.
If he were back home, though, every single boat and skiff would be out on the water. A storm almost always guaranteed a big catch, and the holds would be bulging with fish. A storm like this was a good omen in Canjir. It meant everyone would eat today.
Eiri wrapped himself in one of the dressing robes he’d found in the wardrobe, trying not to focus on the knowledge that it belonged to Syrus. It was far too big on him, nearly wrapping twice around his frame, but fell a few inches too short, brushing his calves. The storm brought a chill with it, but fussing with the fireplace didn’t seem worth the time. He settled on a cushioned seat built into the wall near the window, perfect forcurling up and watching the rain. Once settled, he pulled his knees up to his chest, and the extra material of the robe served almost like a blanket, keeping his bare feet warm. If he were anywhere else, this would be the perfect place to relax on mornings like this.
He was still in Lodie, though, and his thoughts were as chaotic as the wind-whipped waves. His afternoon with Syrus kept circling in his mind, bits and pieces coming back in an endless loop. The sneer on the carriage driver’s face and the way Syrus sent her away for her disrespect. The smell of spoiled meat and the burn of Syrus’ fury, for once not directed at him. The feel of his magic curling through him, familiar and comforting, when the ocean lapped around his feet.
The startling warmth twisting in his stomach when Syrus smiled at him.
“Stop thinking about it,” he groaned, letting his head fall back against the stone behind him.
Scolding himself did nothing, of course. He couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened, either, and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to. Maybe… maybe Syrus truly meant what he’d said? Maybe he really wanted to make this work. Could he trust it, though?
It surprised him how much he wanted to. Somehow, in the span of an afternoon, he’d gone from hating everything about Syrus to whatever they were now. Allies? Friends? He never would have imagined he’d be sitting in a palace while trying to decide if he could be friends with the man he’d married.
More than anything, he desperately wished he had someone to talk to. Eiri knew he couldn’t be objective about this, and he had no one he could turn to who could help. Back home, he would have talked to Akari, or perhaps Laire, the only friend who’d stood by him when the old king called for hishead. Probably both, as Akari always wanted to see the good in people, while Laire was even more cynical than Eiri.
Here, though, he only had Kien, and he hadn’t seen the older man since their fight. He had a feeling Kien wouldn’t bother with him again unless Eiri either apologized or there was some sort of life-threatening emergency. Stubborn pride seemed to be an inherent trait among the Canjir.
How could everything change so much in a single day? When he’d arrived, Kien was his only ally and Syrus was the ultimate enemy. Now, he somehow found himself at odds with Kien and considering making peace with his husband, the man he’d assumed he would hate to his dying day.
The wailing storm echoed the turmoil inside him as he wrestled with what path he needed to take. He was so caught up in his brooding that he almost missed the knock at the door. For a moment, he thought it was a rumble of thunder, then it came again. He considered ignoring it, but it could only be one of two people, and while he couldn’t decide if he actually wanted to see either of them, it was better than sitting here alone, letting his thoughts consume him.
He opened the door to find Syrus on the other side, a tray in his hands.
