easy for him to say. He wasn’t leaving in the morning to take a journey that might or might not end with his death.
Not that Finn was afraid to die. It wasn’t that at all. Death in battle was honorable; it would ensure his life was worthwhile. On the other hand, it was just… well… it was just so damn permanent, and there were no guarantees he would die in battle. The seer only said one of them would not return.
He was so young, had only just found his mate. By all rights the two of them should have been given a long, healthy life together, but there were no guarantees.
“Viln,” he elbowed into his brother’s back again, making the man to sleepily grunt in reply. “Viln, will you make me a promise?”
“Finn, please just go to sleep.”
“I will, but only if you promise me something.”
“Fine, I’ll promise you anything if it’ll shut you up and help you sleep.”
“Promise me if anything happens to me on this journey, if Lorelei comes back from it without me, you’ll take care of her.”
Vilnjar was silent, but Finn knew he hadn’t fallen asleep that time. He could feel the heaviness of his brother’s thoughts, the trickle of fear he’d been trying to deny he felt ever since he stalked out of Hodon’s hall. In the tangle of thought and emotion, he felt his brother struggling with the position he’d held over Finn as long as he could remember. He contemplated forbidding him to embark on a fool’s errand, refusing to allow him to run off and do something so stupid he wouldn’t come back from it. He sighed, defeat wrestling him from his fears.
“I will make sure she’s well taken care of in the event you don’t return,” he said at last, adding, “but I won’t have to, Finn. You’re not going to die.”
He wished he felt even half as certain as his brother sounded. His lips parted, the question edging toward them but then catching in the back of his throat. How could he be so sure? He didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to hear his brother say he wasn’t sure. He just wanted to believe his older brother’s certainty was enough to make it so.
“Thanks, Viln.”
“Go to sleep, Finn.”
But he didn’t. He made effort to be still, stopped allowing himself to fidget and roll around as he laid on his back and stared into the darkness of the pantry cupboard waiting for morning to come.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lorelei should have been exhausted, should have felt as if her body was about to collapse from the sheer lack of sleep, abundant stress and overindulgence in cup after cup of her brother’s ale, but she felt as if she’d stood beneath the clouds in a storm and endured the jolt of a thousand lightning bolts through her body. She was wide awake, agitated, restless and terrified.
She didn’t want to be alone, couldn’t stomach the idea of sleep even though she desperately needed it if she was meant to leave Dunvarak at first light. Maybe it would have been different if Finn slept in the room with her. She might have found sleep and stayed in the confines of its comfortable embrace as she snuggled into his warmth and felt the certainty of his strength, but she doubted even Finn could have calmed the frazzled edges of her nerves on that night.
Long through the darkest hours before morning she and Logren shared drink after drink, spoke at great length about their lives, their separate childhoods and experiences. She grew fonder of him with every story, found herself filled with lament because she hadn’t been there for the most important moments of his life, and he hadn’t been there for hers.
She told him stories about her sister, about the mischief the two of them were famous for making in the palace at Rivenn and his appreciative laughter was often so loud it surprised her no one else in the house woke. She spoke reverently of Pahjah, the Alvarii nursemaid who devoted more to her care and raising than her own mother. The nursemaid often felt more
Not that Finn was afraid to die. It wasn’t that at all. Death in battle was honorable; it would ensure his life was worthwhile. On the other hand, it was just… well… it was just so damn permanent, and there were no guarantees he would die in battle. The seer only said one of them would not return.
He was so young, had only just found his mate. By all rights the two of them should have been given a long, healthy life together, but there were no guarantees.
“Viln,” he elbowed into his brother’s back again, making the man to sleepily grunt in reply. “Viln, will you make me a promise?”
“Finn, please just go to sleep.”
“I will, but only if you promise me something.”
“Fine, I’ll promise you anything if it’ll shut you up and help you sleep.”
“Promise me if anything happens to me on this journey, if Lorelei comes back from it without me, you’ll take care of her.”
Vilnjar was silent, but Finn knew he hadn’t fallen asleep that time. He could feel the heaviness of his brother’s thoughts, the trickle of fear he’d been trying to deny he felt ever since he stalked out of Hodon’s hall. In the tangle of thought and emotion, he felt his brother struggling with the position he’d held over Finn as long as he could remember. He contemplated forbidding him to embark on a fool’s errand, refusing to allow him to run off and do something so stupid he wouldn’t come back from it. He sighed, defeat wrestling him from his fears.
“I will make sure she’s well taken care of in the event you don’t return,” he said at last, adding, “but I won’t have to, Finn. You’re not going to die.”
He wished he felt even half as certain as his brother sounded. His lips parted, the question edging toward them but then catching in the back of his throat. How could he be so sure? He didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to hear his brother say he wasn’t sure. He just wanted to believe his older brother’s certainty was enough to make it so.
“Thanks, Viln.”
“Go to sleep, Finn.”
But he didn’t. He made effort to be still, stopped allowing himself to fidget and roll around as he laid on his back and stared into the darkness of the pantry cupboard waiting for morning to come.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lorelei should have been exhausted, should have felt as if her body was about to collapse from the sheer lack of sleep, abundant stress and overindulgence in cup after cup of her brother’s ale, but she felt as if she’d stood beneath the clouds in a storm and endured the jolt of a thousand lightning bolts through her body. She was wide awake, agitated, restless and terrified.
She didn’t want to be alone, couldn’t stomach the idea of sleep even though she desperately needed it if she was meant to leave Dunvarak at first light. Maybe it would have been different if Finn slept in the room with her. She might have found sleep and stayed in the confines of its comfortable embrace as she snuggled into his warmth and felt the certainty of his strength, but she doubted even Finn could have calmed the frazzled edges of her nerves on that night.
Long through the darkest hours before morning she and Logren shared drink after drink, spoke at great length about their lives, their separate childhoods and experiences. She grew fonder of him with every story, found herself filled with lament because she hadn’t been there for the most important moments of his life, and he hadn’t been there for hers.
She told him stories about her sister, about the mischief the two of them were famous for making in the palace at Rivenn and his appreciative laughter was often so loud it surprised her no one else in the house woke. She spoke reverently of Pahjah, the Alvarii nursemaid who devoted more to her care and raising than her own mother. The nursemaid often felt more
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