The Ivory Rite

Chapter 41

The next morning I know something is wrong at the briefing. Landon behaves strangely the whole time, refusing to meet my eyes. Adair seems not to notice, his hostility predictable. He avoids speaking, only doing so if I ask him a direct question.

"Any word on the return of the Laoch?" I look down at my plate, only lifting my eyes when Adair fails to respond. He's already staring at me.

"Not that I know of," he says, his tone cold. Those are the only words he speaks to me for the rest of the meeting. Everything is directed at Landon, who's attention flounders dangerously. He typically does well with bridging any gaps of silence, but today he's too distracted to be effective.

"That's enough," I sigh, giving up on any further productivity. "You both may go." Landon welcomes the early adjournment, disappearing from the room in the blink of an eye.

I expect the same from Adair, but he lingers, drawing my eyes over to him. He holds my gaze, and I cling to the moment, turning my whole body in his direction.

"I have a request, your Majesty," he says, his tone noticeably less aggressive. I nod, eager and foolish enough to be encouraged.

"What is it?" I ask him, hating the hope in my voice. What do you think he's going to say? I scold myself. It's probably nothing good.

"I'd like to skip our training session. You can take the day off, or I can arrange for you and Dillon to go it alone." I frown, not wanting to give up any time with him despite his horrendous attitude.

"Please?" he adds, his eyes changing, softening. He looks at me a little like he used to, and I'm powerless.

But it can't be real.

Never do what your opponent expects you to do, he tells me in training. This unusual drop of his guard makes me feel like he's about to strike.

"That's fine," I tell him, my voice weak. "Just for today?"

"Yes. I'd like to go to Glace to visit the family of one of the men." My lungs expand in relief. 

A perfectly normal request.

"Of course." I chance a small smile. He doesn't return it, but he doesn't glare at me either. "Is everything alright?"

"I want to visit the family of Liefteanant Asthore. We lost him at Samhain." His eyes sharpen. "Do you remember him?" There's something he isn't saying. Knowledge skirts the edge of my mind, but I can't catch it.

"Of course I remember him." I nod. "Please give his family my regards."

"I will. I'll be sure to mention it to Arwen." The small dimple in his smile is the slap I'm waiting for.

Arwen.

The girl who I spoke to in the street at Margret's funeral. The girl with the delicate features and golden hair.

You let me approach that woman because you know who she is, I said to him. 

Yes, I know Arwen, had been his response.

And then he stared after her.

I'm broken from my toxic thoughts when I realize he hasn't moved. I keep expecting his newly adopted habit of the swift exit, but here he is.

Waiting.

Looking at me like he wants more.

If it's jealousy he desires, he doesn't leave empty-handed. His strike has opened a wound, and I'm bleeding green envy all over the white marble floor.