The oily residue of Rhys’s pep talk wrecked the moment. This might be the only fact that high-and-mighty ignoramus got right. Aire had always been fond of me, even when I baited and exasperated him, but he wasn’t a lecher. This upstanding soldier had never seen me as anything but a little sister in the making.
It should be enough. It had to be enough.
If I shooed him out of here quickly, I might even start to believe that. Besides, this wasn’t a safe time to linger, to dwell on things too far out of reach.
False excuses cluttered my tongue, each one faker than the last, a polite string of hints to send him on his way. It was getting late, and I was tired, and he had three dozen damsels waiting in line to bang him, and I had no problem with that.
Please leave. Fuck off and take your sincerity, goodness, and sense of duty with you. Go before it hurts too much.
Desperate to quit while I was ahead, I parted my lips to deliver my best farewell. Out of nowhere, an object hoveredbetween us, delaying the attempt. Confused, I blinked at the bundle wrapped in linen and tied with a silver ribbon.
Awkwardly, Aire cleared his throat. “For you.”
I wavered, unsure what to do. “What is it?”
“A gift.” Discouraged by my silence, he added, “It’s your favorite color.”
A gift.
A gift for me.
This man was giving me a present during his goodbye revels, when it should have been the other way around. I’d had something in mind for him, a pair of new scabbards for his swords, but I hadn’t been able to get the design right.
Carefully, I took the item, its heavy weight filling my palms. I cupped it like a relic, as if it might crumble to cinders if I held it the wrong way.
When was the last time someone gave me a present?
“I don’t know what to say,” I murmured, staring down at the bulk.
“Neither do I,” Aire confessed in a low timbre.
Awkwardness pulled across his face. In unison, we huffed out a laugh. Aire had as much practice at gifting things as I did at receiving them.
The knight scrubbed a hand through his hair, antsy as I unwrapped the linen and gasped. A whetstone. Yet not just any weapon-sharpener, but one crafted of premium masonry, finely grained and shimmering with tiny silver flecks.
Aire nudged his chin toward the stone. “Turn it over.”
I complied, flipping the stone upside-down. Letters engraved the bottom like cursive penned by ancient scribes.
Keep your edge.
My heart broke open like a shell. I traced the engraving with delicate fingers, marveling at the attention to detail. This had been commissioned, forged by a tradesman who must havecost a hefty price. Also, this type of stone didn’t exist in Autumn. No, it had been imported from Winter. Either that, or King Jeryn had brought it with him at Aire’s request.
“For your axes. And to remember this night.” Aire said. “Do… you like it?”
No impractical trinkets. Aire had known better. Fripperies weren’t my style, the whetstone indicating a vital fact that chipped me to fragments.
This gift said, “I see you, despite the cloak.”
It also said, “I’ll miss you.”
Only now did it hit me with the force of a mallet. He was leaving tomorrow. Come sunrise, Aire would embark on a mission to root out the traitorous Autumn soldiers who’d aligned themselves with Rhys.
This quest wouldn’t be necessary if I knew their identities, but I hadn’t gotten it out of the Summer King. Not yet.
Until then, Aire could be gone for years.
Unworthiness, gratitude, and adoration pressed against my sternum. He’d wanted me at the revels. He had this gift made specially for the occasion.
