“How do I look?” Georgia asks, brushing her hair from her face.
“Mostly alive,” Arthur answers.
Then Arthur is selfishly grateful they didn’t lay her to rest, because she strides forward and handles all the talking. The way she tells it, the three of them valiantly saved the city from a rogue demon and attacking corpses. They were in no way responsible for causing the problems, Georgia was not one of the attacking corpses in question, and the Riverswords will be charging an exorbitant amount of hazard pay to the Lanwatch council. Of course Shae and Arthur are in her employ, she’s known them for years.
Arthur’s not thrilled with the lies, but he’s too tired to come up with anything better.
A guard runs off midway through her explanation, and by the time they finally ride into the city, a small crowd is gathered. Arthur’s not surprised to see more soldiers and mages, a few Riverswords, and he picks out the council-members by their fine clothes and the brass torques around their necks. Heissurprised to see a number of familiar sun-emblazoned tunics—Captain Tanner, Freya, and a few other sisters and brothers.
Former sisters and brothers.
Shae stiffens at the sight. “Do you need to talk to them?” he asks quietly.
“I probably should,” Arthur says. “But we can avoid them if you want.”
Shae sighs. “No, I think I’ve learned my lesson about avoiding things.”
Arthur hugs him tight, then dismounts and helps him down. A nearby guard takes Duchess from Arthur, and then there’s nothing between them and Captain Tanner. Arthur steels his nerves and takes Shae’s hand as they walk over.
“Captain,” he says. “I thought you were heading back to Ostaris.”
“Most of them are on their way, but Karis scried out some trouble here so I brought a few people back around.” Tanner sighs. “I should have known something was really going on when you left, Arthur. You’ve always had good instincts.”
“With a few exceptions?” he can’t help asking.
Behind her, Freya laughs. Tanner’s lip just twitches a little. “Good battle instincts,” she says gruffly. She looks away briefly, as if the next thing she has to say is something very difficult. “Look. I might have been a bit hasty with you the last time we spoke. I think that given what happened today, we could make a good case for your reinstatement. I’d hate to lose one of my best men over all of this.”
Arthur stares. It’s the closest thing to an apology he’s ever heard her give. And for a moment, he’s tempted to accept. To ride back to the Bright Cathedral, his brothers and sisters at his side, to renew his oath and serve the Radiant Order.
Only for a moment. Because nothing’s truly changed since he left, except that Arthur knows he made the right choice. Tanner’s being nice to Arthur now, but she hasn’t even looked at Shae once.
Arthur doesn’t need an organization that’s more concerned with looking good than doing good. He doesn’t need an organization that wants to force him to choose between faith and love, when he knows his god wants him to have both. His contract with Vara doesn’t depend on the order after all, and it’s stronger than ever now that he’s making his own choices.
“I appreciate that, sir,” he says, squeezing Shae’s hand. “But I meant it when I quit. Vara has another path for me.”
She frowns, then sighs again. “Suit yourself, Arthur. And good luck.”
Shae’s hand clenches suddenly. “Wait a second,” he says, wide eyed. “You left the order?”
Arthur laughs. “I guess I was too busy to mention that, but yeah.” He takes Shae’s other hand too and spins him around so they’re facing each other, and the heat that cascades between them is warmer than anything Arthur’s ever felt. In front of everyone—paladins, soldiers, mercenaries, Vara only knows who else—he bends down to murmur in Shae’s ear, “I’m all yours now.”
“What are you doing?” Shae hisses. “You shameless—”
But when Arthur kisses him in the middle of the street, he kisses back just as eagerly.
?
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Shae
It’s another couple of hours before they end up their accommodations for the night, a spare room in the Riverswords outpost. Arthur’s injuries have been tended by a mage healer—the deepest ones can’t be fully healed, but they’re healed enough not to need stitches—and Shae relented to aid for his own injuries too. Most of his bruises were just from continually falling off his horse. He’s happiest to have the fingerprints around his neck eased away, cleansing Izen’s touch from his skin.
They take separate baths down the hall, because Shae rather liked kissing Arthur in public, but he’s not quite prepared to give their hosts a complete show. And he needs the moment of solitude, washing off the blood and grime, to start feeling like himself again, without the distraction of Arthur’s touch.
He still doesn’t feel quite clean or safe until he’s alone with Arthur. The room is simple, with whitewashed walls and unstained wooden furniture. There’s a table, chairs, and washbasin at one end of the room, and a wide, red-quilted bed at the other.
There’s Arthur Davorin, standing in the doorway with his boots still on, looking at Shae like he’s the most amazing thing in the world.
