Yhkon was still silent. Grrake started to seem hopeful, until Yhkon finally did speak. Slowly and clearly. “Fifteen years aga-ago I would have believed you.” He stood so still. His voice, his demeanor, he had it all under control. Somehow that was more frightening. “But th-there hasn’t been a day since then that you haven’t lied to me, so I don’t think I will now.”
“Yhkon, wait, I—” Grrake started to move forward, but Yhkon was already out the door.
Talea stayed, to see the older Warden’s shoulders slump and his brow knit, facial muscles strained, fighting to keep his emotions on the inside. His eyes still glistened as he looked at her. “I guess the explanation won’t help, after all.”
She wasn’t sure what to do. Or say. “I’m so sorry, Grrake…” she whispered. “Maybe…do you have some sort of proof? That would convince him?”
“Yes, Larak and three of the council members know the whole story, and,” his voice cracked, “Shanteya’s letters. She wrote to me, and to Yhkon, for when I told him.”
“You stayed in contact?” She didn’t finish the question with what she was thinking. Even after you divorced and she remarried?
He might as well have heard her thoughts. “We only divorced because we had to. Her father wanted her to marry a duke, to have proper heirs.” He looked away. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t love her. She found someone trustworthy to carry letters back and forth without anyone finding out.”
Talea hated the feeling of seeing him so tormented and not being able to do anything to help. It had always been obvious to her that Grrake had lost people, that he’d faced hardship. He’d always had a quiet sadness, under his gentle smile and dependability. But she’d never known how much he’d been through.
Grrake swallowed and hugged his arms to his chest, gaze imploring as he faced her. “Would you talk to him? Maybe…with some more time, he’ll come to terms with it.”
“Of course I will.” She wet her lips. “But, were you planning to tell him? At some point?”
“I was supposed to tell him as soon as he was eighteen.” He shook his head slowly. “I didn’t…because by that time, I knew this would happen.”
Talea left and made her way back to the barn feeling heavy. It was difficult to blame Grrake for acting as he had, first to protect Yhkon, and then to protect their relationship. It was equally difficult to blame Yhkon for being so hurt and bitter. How they would reconcile…how she could possibly help the situation…she didn’t know. All she could do was try. And be there for both of them.
When she entered the barn, Yhkon wasn’t pacing. He was sitting, head down, hands buried in his hair, allowing her to see that his knuckles were bleeding. She touched his arm, gently pulling his hand out toward her. Sympathy knotted her stomach. “Which wall wronged you?”
“If only it were a wall,” he said, barely audible.
“So I take it that the explanation didn’t make you feel any better. That you don’t believe him.”
“Belive-be...lieve him, not believe him.” He shrugged wearily. “What does it matter.”
She let go of his hand and went to the stalls, looking for a first-aid kit among the Wardens’ tack. “Well, if you do believe it, then at least you know he did have a reason. He was trying to protect you.”
“He could have told me.”
No arguing that…She found the kit and returned with it. “He said he was going to when you turned eighteen. But he didn’t…because he didn’t want this to happen.”
Yhkon only nodded. He didn’t object as she took his hand to rub ointment on the scrapes. “Or he m-made it up. What are the cha-chances—”
“Actually, I asked,” she carefully wrapped his hand with a small strip of bandage, “and he has proof. Larak and three councilmen can confirm the story, and…he has letters. From Shanteya.”
“Great.” He apparently didn’t have the energy for his scornful cynicism of before. “Shanteya. Queen of Sanonyn…my m-mother.”
Unsure what to say, she took his other hand to dress it. He watched the process blankly for a long moment before speaking. “You know, it was always Grrake that pi-patched me up when I did somewh...someth-thing stupid.”
That he had required patching up for this sort of thing before didn’t surprise her. “He does love you,” she murmured without thinking.
He got up, turning away to pace. “Never understood why.”
She opened her mouth to reply. Nothing came. What could she possibly say? She just put away the medical supplies while he paced, inwardly searching for what she could say or do to help. Eventually she decided just to give him something else to occupy his mind. “Well, if you’re secluded to the barn, there’s still no reason you can’t train me. I’m hardly a professional, you know, and that’s what you promised all those months ago at the beginning of this craziness.”
Yhkon only gave her a dull look, lifting one of his hands. It quivered slightly. “How about the h-hu-hit to the hea...h-head as m-my…” he muttered something she didn’t hear and didn’t bother finishing.
The speech impediment was the most prominent consequence of his concussion, but he had also lost some hand-eye coordination, and there was a tremble in his hands. “Well,” she said again. “Maybe it can be training for both of us. It might help, for your hands to do one of the things they’re best at. Come on.” She gave him a smile. “No matter how bad you are, you’ll still be plenty good to train me.”
Clearly not as optimistic, he assented by going to Eclipse’s stall to get his sword. He unceremoniously put it into her hands and proceeded to use as few words as possible in directing her through a few new maneuvers. The longer they went, however, the more she smiled and laughed at her mistakes, the more he relaxed. Eventually he was earnest about the training instead of merely obliging. Immersed to the point of seeming to not notice when his hands fumbled.
Practicing a particularly complex move, he even smiled a bit, amused as she failed at it yet again. He went behind her and put his arms around her, hands over hers on the grip of the sword, to physically guide her through the movements. In such close contact, she could feel the way his whole body tensed when the barn door opened and Jaylee entered.
She stopped in the doorway. Yhkon moved away from Talea, turning his back to both of them. “What are y-you doing here,” he muttered, without so much as looking at her.
Jay’s frown deepened. “Getting my celith. Sorry to interrupt.”
Yhkon scowled as if she’d made some overbearing demand, and waved his arm in the direction of her celith. Talea could see the hurt in Jay’s expression. Yet another person she wished she could help.
Jay went quickly to the stall and began saddling the mare. Talea thought maybe that was as many words as would be exchanged, until Jaylee spoke unexpectedly. “You know you could at least be civil to me, for everyone’s sake. I’m not asking for anything else.”
His glare made Talea cringe. “Aren’t you?”
Jaylee’s gaze darkened, less hurt and more offended. “No, I’m not. I gave you the companionship you wanted when you were hurt, and tried to offer some comfort. Now I’m offering for us to go back to…to a platonic, business relationship, and you’re acting like I’m some manipulative, conniving—”