“Your twin is very gregarious,” I said, drowsy but still awake.
“How are you not asleep by now?” he said.
I felt a thrill when I realized his speech was just ever so slurred. “I like Anwyn.”
“Everyone does. I seem to surround myself with likable people.”
What did he mean by that? I wondered. “Why did you want to be a soldier and not a smithy?”
After a beat, he said, “I was not strong enough to lift the hammer as a boy. It was discouraging. I am the smallest of my brothers. They take after my father. He is a big man. I take after my mother. She was tall but thin. I do not know how she birthed five of us.”
Sensing his tongue was loose, I asked, “And are you younger or older or in the middle?”
“Anwyn and I are the last. We have three elder brothers. Aines, Artho and Arbis. Aines and Artho are married with, gods, four children each. Arbis is a tomcat who will never marry. Anwyn is… Anwyn is his own man.”
“Your mother no longer lives?”
“She passed the winter I turned thirty.”
“I am sorry to hear this.”
There was another pause and then, “She would have liked you.”
I let out a surprised laugh and said, “Is that so?”
“She was devout to Mother Earth and taught me to be. All of my brothers and my father have fire magic. I have no magic and neither did she, but she loved the goddess. She would be proud that—” he stopped himself. “She would have liked you,” he finished.
We lay there in silence and then he said, “How long did you watch today?”
“Just long enough to see you put that young man on his back in the mud. I almost felt bad for him. Will you fight every single one of those hundreds of boys?”
“No. Half of them will leave after today. And I do not fight all of the contenders.”
“How do you choose the next one then?”
He sighed and rolled to his side, facing me. There was less than an arm’s length between us. “Our king started The Procurers… fourteen winters past now. I was the founder. He bid me pick nineteen other men. We were skirmishing with the Helmsmen clans. Of course, I chose Thatcher. And Perch was a boy then, fresh in the infantry, but the best swordsman I had ever seen and I chose him and he became… like a younger brother to Thatcher and I. Fletch can practically run up the side of the wall. No man throws a punch like Stefan. I want every one of them to be able to best me or be the best in some way. I chose Luka last time because he can outrun anything on legs. So, the Procurer trials are a series of challenges… to me.”
“So each contender challenges you to something?”
“A race. Swords. Archery. Staffs. Mostly fists.”
“And you beat them all?”
He positioned his arm under his face. In the dimness, I could see the line of his cheek. “It is a trial of intelligence as well. Many see my thinness and challenge me to fisticuffs. But I am quick.”
I turned my head towards him. “Alric… are you in your cups?”
He huffed. “I can hold my drink, wife.” Then he sighed. “Anwyn switched our cups. I am not used to lightleaf. I never take it.”
I stifled a laugh before it left my mouth. “It aids in sleep. And …lightness.”
“Yes, lightness. I have heard your laughter from the dormitory.” His voice was without judgment but I could not quite read him.
“Well, if you want a good night’s sleep, you can help yourself to my vial. Mischa used to grow it in her garden. And we used to smoke it from a pipe. On rest days.”
There was another silence. “Do you miss it?”
“Eccleston?”
