Oh. And blinking over toward them, watching Abjorn grin delightedly up at Sigarr’s face, the heaviness seemed to plunge harder, deeper, into Geva’s stomach. Because… she’d perhaps done that too. Hadn’t she? She hadn’t wanted to risk talking to Rathgarr, being honest with him about what she wanted, and how she felt. She’d kept it to herself for so long, and then of course he’d been shocked and confused. Of course he’d struggled to believe her.
“So really, sister, what is it?” came Kesst’s quiet voice, his knee gently nudging at hers. “It’s Rath, right? What happened?”
Geva twitched, but Kesst was still here, waiting, giving her a light, encouraging smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “What, did last night set him off somehow, then?” he continued. “Did he go souse himself in ale? Or, maybe he sat there like a lump and stared at the wall and ignored everything you said, until you finally came to your senses, and told him you’d had enough of him?”
Geva couldn’t help a sharp look toward Kesst this time, but then she grimaced, rubbed painfully at her face. “He can’t… help that,” she replied, more defensively than she meant. “It’s just… something that happens, sometimes. He just needs time, that’s all.”
There was a brief flare in Kesst’s eyes, something almost like satisfaction, even as he grimaced, too. “I know,” he said, with a sigh. “It’s only — Father used to do it, too. Sometimes for days, or weeks. And seeing Rath like that, it’s always been quite uniquely horrifying, you know? Especially since” — he drew in a breath, his eyes dropping — “Eft says it’s not something he can just heal, either. Not like that.”
Right. Geva felt herself nodding, wilting a little against the solid stone beneath her. And then glancing back toward the door, to where there was still no sign of Rathgarr, still.
“So what set him off, then?” Kesst prodded, with another companionable bump at her knee. “Was it all that discussion about Mother and Father last night? All those lovely, heartwarming memories?”
Geva winced, but Kesst clearly wasn’t letting this go. And at least he wasn’t truly close to the real reason yet, because surely he thought Rathgarr had already known what had happened to her own parents, right? And surely she could tell him something, at least some piece of the truth…
“That was — part of it,” she finally replied, on a heavy exhale. “I know he finds it — difficult, to trust. Humans, and women, especially. I mean, your mother, she…”
Her voice snapped off there, her thoughts reeling backwards in a sudden, stilted jolt. Back to what Rathgarr had said the night before, when he’d looked at her with such strange, angry resentment in his eyes.
Will you keep my son from me, he’d said.Will you put him at risk, because you only care for what you want.
Will you then find a clever way to get rid of me.
And how… how he’d said that, mimicking the accent. Not Geva’s accent, that time. But a distinct northern accent, one she’d heard him use several times before.
His… hismother’s.
A vicious, cracking ice was shattering up Geva’s spine, because — no.No. That wasn’t possible. Rathgarr had been run out after his mother’s death, he’d said.After. And surely their mother wouldn’t have wanted to leave Kesst alone and unprotected like that… right? Surely she’d realized on some level what Rathgarr had been for Kesst, how he’d kept him safe… right?
But Geva’s heart was slamming against her ribs, now, her hands clutched clammy to her knees, her eyes staring unseeing toward the front of the room. Toward — toward Kesst’s hand, waving in front of her face.
“Sister,” he was loudly saying from beside her, and he was gently shaking her shoulder, too. “Hey. Are you in there? Are you pulling a Rath on me? Do you need help?”
Geva was blinking, blinking, but she couldn’t quite seem to focus on Kesst’s face. On where he was smiling, yes, but he was looking pale, suddenly, too. His bones standing out stark beneath his skin, those dark circles somehow seeming deeper under his eyes…
“Kesst,” she whispered. “Your — your mother. Did she want the inheritance to go to… toyou?”
And in return, there was… silence. Silence, with Kesst just sitting there staring, unmoving, the entire world choked and still.Will you find a clever way to get rid of me.
And in a sharp, sudden movement, Kesst leapt up, and fled for the door.
41
Geva sat there for another numb, dangling moment, staring at where Kesst had gone. Staring, and staring, while her thoughts turned over again, and again, and again.
Their mother. Theirmother. And suddenly, all the things Rathgarr had said about his mother were crashing together, careening into a horrible, harrowing mess.
My mother and I were never in accord. Too much like my witless, brute orc father, she liked to say. A greedy, secretive hoarder.A piggish, plundering orc pillager.
I wished to run… but she would not hear of this. She said she should send the Skai after us. She had plans of her own. She had bought your safety in other ways.
She hoped some heroic man would soon kill me in battle, so I might finally leave her in peace about you.
But —why. Why would their own mother have gone to such lengths, such risks, for an inheritance that was so precarious? Kesst had said their mother had been entangled with Grimarr’s vile father Kaugir, right? So surely she would have known what Kaugir might do with their inheritance? How it might then be forfeit to the clan, for Kaugir’s own gain, like Grimarr had said?
But… had Grimarrknownthat, for certain? No. No, he’d said he hadn’t known his father’s plan. He didn’t remember there being a vow to swear Kesst’s safety. He didn’t remember seeing their family’s hoard. And Geva had naturally believed Grimarr’s assumptions, believed the hoard was gone, that it didn’t exist…
But hadRathgarrever said that? Gods, whathadRathgarr said?You shall swear that our birthright shall be granted back to us, if ever it is found. You ken that if my father’s hoard comes to light, half of it shall then be yours, as my mate…
