Jesstin’s breath curled upward in the cool night as his head fell back. “All respect and love, Rhi, but no, we don’t. I know you aren’t keen on me running about at all hours, and I know you’re worried. The answer to both concerns is I’m fine.” He held out his arms and cupped them over the outsides of hers. “Promise.”
“Such a bad liar,” she whispered with a dark look past him. “You’re running from something, but it’s going to catch you. If you tell me, I can help you. You know I would do anything for you. Asterin would do anything for you. Emrys would do anything for you. Sesto?—”
“I know,” he said with a grunt. He needed to get on his way. Most of his patrons were guild workers, leathermen and swordsmen and the like, and worked a fortnight on, four nights off. This was night one of their break, and the gold flowed like a waterfall until they resumed work, but trouble increased in equal measure. His presence kept both moving in the right direction.
“Because I would kill?—”
“Guardians, Rhiain, not every problem requires violence.”
“Aha! So there is a problem!” She seemed pleased with herself for backing him into a corner with his words. She would kill anyone who hurt him. Of that, he was sure. If he could find the words and courage to tell her about Gennady, he thought she’d probably understand why he’d done it. “I know it stung not getting into university.”
Jesstin, tensing, stepped around her, but she matched his movements.
“Asterin sent an appeal yesterday. We think the former steward?—”
“You mean my father? You can say it.”
Rhiain pursed her mouth. “He may have been behind your rejection.” She coughed.
This made Jesstin do a double take. The man had been making pathetic and futile efforts to swing Jesstin to his side, probably in a bid to win back public opinion. Jesstin didn’t want to owe him anything, but it had seemed a foregone conclusion that Oldcastle would open its doors to the son of their biggest patron.
“I don’t know what he’s up to, Jess, but Asterin has allies in Oldcastle too. If that’s really where you want to be, we’ll find a way. Theo will help too. I know he will.” She reached up and cupped his cheeks. “It will work out.”
Rhiain seemed sad and a bit dejected, and that hurt his heart. No one had been better to him than his big sister. No one had loved him more fiercely, protected him more passionately. She’d nearly married Castien to protect the secret of Jesstin’s paternity from ruining his name, and had she gone through with it, she’d either be dead or in prison. Wanting to leave wasn’t about her or Asterin or Emrys or his nieces and nephews, whom Jesstin adored to the ends of the realm. But looking at them reminded him he was different. Marked. He could play house with them, or he could accept what they couldn’t, that he didn’t belong anywhere, and no amount of love would change a damn thing.
Except Mythgarde. In Mythgarde, he wasn’t Jesstin Sometimes-Skylark-Sometimes-Edevane-Always-a-Bastard. He was whoever the fuck he wanted to be, and oh, how he loved trying on new personalities. Who cared if none of them were real?
“Sure.” Jesstin didn’t have the heart to tell her any of that, or to ask her not to bother with the appeal. Any excitement about studying in Oldcastle had been snuffed out with his rejection. To go now would be a humiliating consolation and a reminder of why he’d wanted to escape.
He leaned down and pecked the top of Rhiain’s head, knowing precisely what to say to put an end to the painful conversation and a temporary appeasement on her worry. “Thank you. Both of you. You remind me it’s not all bad.”
“My sweet baby brother.” Rhiain’s glossy eyes searched him. Did she buy it? No, she was smarter than that. But she would let it go, for now. “How did you become a man so fast?”
Jesstin kissed her again. “I have to go. I won’t be home for dinner.”
“The only way you’d ever surprise me is if you showed up.”
He laughed. “One day I will. Just to see your face.”
“Go on then.” She swatted the air and wrapped her furs tighter around her head with a shiver. “Mind the storm, eh? The diviners are no longer calling for snow, but they’ve said the ice over the next two nights could shut down the roads, even the main ones.”
“I have somewhere safe to go if that happens.” Jesstin blew her another kiss and slid the stable door open. Effie perked in surprise, but she’d been expecting him. He wondered how many horses were nocturnal as she was.
“Busy nights ahead, Ef,” he said as he opened the stall door. “I’ll make sure the groomsman brings your favorite apples tomorrow.”
After he’d dressed her, Jesstin swung up, wondering if he’d see Elloven that night, or over the next few.
In actuality, he hadn’t stopped thinking about her at all.
Elloven was up before the sun. She could have slept for days, but she wouldn’t spend another one in her childhood home with the mess and dust.
Taven had left sometime in the night. By the time Elloven had put the last of the dishes away and unpinned the bedding from the yard lines, it was dusk, and he still hadn’t returned. She had no idea where he’d gone; he hadn’t said a word or left a note.
It had only been a day, and already she was relieved to be free of him. It wouldn’t last.
Esmeray had slept all day and was still passed out in bed when Elloven went to check on her around supper. She left the tray of stew and bread by her bedside, swapping it with the old one with half-eaten mince pie.
“Good night, Mama,” she said, planting a kiss on her clammy forehead. She lingered at the door, noting the drool, fresh and dried, around her mother’s once-lovely mouth. The dark crescents under her eyes would be even more garish in the light of day. Taven hadn’t even cleaned up her bottles, so he’d clearly wanted Elloven to see those too. It was something Fabrien might have done, to wound her further, but Fabrien had never pretended to care for her unless others were around. Taven acted like they were soul twins.
