A Call to Arms: Book One of the Chronicles of Arden (30 page)

“Nawaz spoke the truth. He was right about everything.”

Joel paled. “The truth about what?”

“
Us
. You and me.” Gib’s voice threatened to catch in his throat. He shut his eyes, willing his nerves to settle. “You’re my best friend, Joel. But it’s not enough. Not anymore. I–it’s time I tell you exactly how I feel.”

“What do you feel, Gib?” Joel asked, his voice a silken whisper.

“I–I feel—” Gib paused for a gasp of air. “I feel like you’re the most wonderful, caring person in the world. I want to be around you, hear your laughter, see your smile. When you’re near, I’m not alone in this giant, frightening place that is so different from everything I’ve ever known. I’m not afraid of what dangers might befall us or our friends—you give me hope that everything will work out the way it’s supposed to. And you make me feel—whole, complete. I’ve realized who I am and it’s because of you.” Gib dared to reach forward and touch his fingers to the older boy’s onyx locks.

The sentinel trainee’s heart leapt in his chest when Joel raised his own hand to cup the side of Gib’s face in a tentative way. “I—you—I feel—” All of Joel’s graceful mannerisms seemed to have abandoned him in that moment. His voice was timid, even shy. “I feel the same, Gib.” The mage trainee brushed an unruly curl away from Gib’s cheek, hand trembling against Gib’s skin.

Joel’s lips were so close, so soft and inviting. “I want to kiss you,” Gib murmured, leaning closer. He could feel Joel’s hot, jagged breath.

“I’m scared,” replied the older boy, voice shaking as surely as his hands.

“I’d never hurt you.”

Joel’s eyes were clouded and his chest was heaving. “I know that, but I—I don’t want you to get hurt either.”

Gib frowned, not understanding. It seemed a silly thing for Joel to even suggest. “I know you’d never hurt me.”

“If—if we—are to be more than just friends, I can’t protect you from the rest of the world. I can’t stop the rumors, the unkind words, the sideways glances. People are cruel, Gib. You must know the consequences of this decision. You’ll be labeled forever. I don’t want you to regret it after it’s too late. People will never forget.”

Gib shook his head adamantly. “This is who I am. I’m the same as you, Joel. You speak of me regretting this decision—well I will sooner regret continuing to pretend I don’t feel this way about you. I want this.” Joel tried to look away, but Gib slipped his hand beneath the mage trainee’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet. “I don’t care what people think. This is what I want.
I want you
.”

Joel’s eyes were wide with unmasked emotion. His lips parted—he might have even whispered some kind of garbled, indecipherable response—but it was all lost to the sentinel trainee as Joel leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Gib’s.
Oh Gods
.

Gib returned the kiss as though his life depended upon it. All the confusion, all the sorrow, all the fear—every last bit of it drained from his body like an open wound that was finally beginning to heal. In that instant, the only thing that mattered was the present. The now. And right now he and Joel were kissing. Gib squeezed his eyes closed, lost in the moment.

Joel’s lips were as soft as silk and tasted of sweet despair. Gib deepened the kiss, searching for a place where he could find a trace of the proud, confident boy Gib knew was hidden inside, suppressed by harsh words and unfair judgments. It wasn’t fair—everything the young highborn had endured—but he no longer had to face the world alone.

Gib’s eyes fluttered open as the older boy ended the kiss. Joel was staring at Gib, handsome features lined with uncertainty. The mage trainee suddenly looked so young and vulnerable. He clutched Gib’s face as though fearing he might flutter away like the end of a wonderful reverie.

“I—I fear this is a dream.” Joel’s words were hushed.

“If it’s a dream,” Gib replied, pausing to touch his lips to the mage trainee’s forehead. “Then we can dream together.”

Joel’s eyes brimmed with tears. “You are too wonderful, Gibben Nemesio. I don’t—I don’t even know what to say—” His voice cracked, and he lowered his face.

Gib stroked the older boy’s hair, running fingers through silky, raven waves, smoothing the strands which refused to lay flat. The younger boy parted his lips, meaning to offer words of comfort, but Joel’s stark crystal eyes stole away the words with just a single glance. With gentle caresses, Gib rested a hand against Joel’s cheek, wiping away the single tear which had formed in the corner of the mage trainee’s eye.

Joel leaned into the touch, his own voice silenced by the weight of the emotions they both were feeling. He let out a sobbing gasp before his entire body crumbled against the sentinel trainee. Gib held the older boy as he cried, offering gentle words and soothing touches. Joel rested his face against Gib’s neck, tears streaming down and pooling on the front of the younger boy’s tunic.

Time seemed to stand still. Gib wasn’t sure how long they sat together, but when Joel next spoke, the candles had burned low. The mage trainee raised his head. His face was red and stained by tears, but the crushing despair that once clouded his eyes was gone. Now his sapphire orbs sparkled with renewed hope.

“My heart—it finally feels at peace. You’ve brought so much happiness into my life,” Joel whispered. He took Gib’s hands. “That is why I didn’t want to say anything. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. I couldn’t be sure if you felt the same way, and I couldn’t risk losing you. You know what happened the last time—”

Gib leaned forward to rest his forehead against the older boy’s. “I’m not going anywhere and I won’t ever abandon you. I
promise
.”

“As do I.” Joel’s smile was agonizingly beautiful as he caressed the sentinel trainee’s hands. “I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather face the world with, Gibben Nemesio. You are one of the most compassionate, bravest people I’ve ever met and—I cherish you.”

Gib parted his lips, meaning to reply, but his words fell by the wayside when their mouths locked together once again. Electrifying emotion surged through his body as they shared another kiss, and somehow—despite the many challenges facing him—Gib knew everything was going to be all right.

Three days later Liza paid Gib a visit. His relationship was still so new and he was in such a fog that he barely heard the light tap on the door. Even as he went to let Liza inside, the sentinel trainee’s thoughts kept drifting back to Joel.

Chhaya’s bane, I haven’t been able to focus. What is wrong with me?
He’d never experienced such emotions before. An intoxicating sense of euphoria would overwhelm him each time he and Joel touched. It was even more exhilarating when they kissed. Gib blushed every time as he promptly melted into a sappy, love-struck mess, unable to catch a breath of air or think of anything witty to say. Joel would laugh in response. His light and flirtatious chuckles did nothing but cause Gib’s knees to tremble—

Stop. Focus
. Gib sat down, his head clouded. “I’ve missed you, Liza.”

“How are things going with your roommate—Joel, is it?” Liza asked as she closed the door. The question was innocent, yet almost immediately heat rushed to Gib’s cheeks at the mention of the mage trainee’s name.

Motioning for Liza to take a seat, Gib replied, “That’s right. Joel Adelwijn. Son of—”

“Seneschal Koal,” his sister finished. Liza chuckled as she sat on the edge of his bed. “I didn’t forget
that
part. Who would have thought my little brother would be roomed with the son of the second most powerful man in all of Arden?”

Gib wrung his hands. “Joel is wonderful. He’s my best friend.” The sentinel trainee dared to meet his sister’s questioning gaze. The truth was churning inside his stomach, begging to be told, but Gib bit his tongue. He wasn’t sure if Joel wanted their relationship to be known by anyone else. Gib cleared his throat. “Any word from Tay and Cal?” he asked, directing the conversation elsewhere.

“Yes. That’s part of the reason I’m here.” Liza reached into a pouch clinging to her belt and pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment. “I got this from the boys yesterday morning.”

Gib took the paper into his hands at once and unfolded it. He recognized Tayver’s handwriting immediately, and if Gib wasn’t mistaken, his brother’s penmanship was more crisp than it had been the previous summer. Was Tayver getting lessons? Gib focused on the words, hoping his younger brother had fair news to report.

Dearest Liza,

The Fadells have been kind to us. During the snowstorm, they shared their Midwinter Feast. Sorry you and Gib were not able to come home. Me and Cal miss you. I want to come to the city in the summer and live there. I’m old enough now to do apprentice work so I won’t be in your way. I’ve been practicing my writing at the temple and the priests say I’m better at reading than any of the other children here. It is really hard for me and Cal to run the farm without you and Gib. Altair has said that Cal can stay on his farm and be a hand until he turns thirteen. I think it is time to let the farm go. Life is taking us all in different directions and I think Pa would have agreed. Please write us soon.

May the Two bless you,

Tayver

Gib handed the letter back to Liza, knitting his eyebrows. “Huh.”

“That’s Tayver for you—blunt as always.” Liza chuckled. She gave Gib a gentle pat on his shoulder. “If anything was seriously wrong, he would have said so. Though it does give us some things to think about.”

Gib nodded, worried for his brothers. This winter had been kind to them. But luck could be devious and theirs was certain to run out sooner than later. “Tayver is right, Liza,” he stated. “With both of us in Silver, we can’t maintain the farm. Tay and Cal can’t do it by themselves either. I think—I think it’s time to sell the farm.” It was hard to admit, even to himself. All he’d wanted to do was make his father proud by keeping the farm afloat and now everything seemed to be falling apart.

Liza nodded, a pained grimace on her face. “You knew it might come to this, Gib. We can’t keep them at the farm all alone. Tayver can apprentice, and we’ll figure out what to do with Cal.”

“I feel like I failed them both. And Pa.”

“No, Gib.” Liza’s voice was firm as she squeezed her brother’s shoulder. “It’s the best thing to do. The boys are proud of you. And Pa would be too, if he could see the young man you’ve become.”

Gib turned to look at her. “You really think so?”

“I
know
so.” She paused long enough to wrap her arms around his back. “There is something else I came here to tell you.”

Gib winced at her ominous tone. “O–oh?”

Liza caressed his curls absently. Her eyes were distant as she stared across the room. “I’ve been reassigned to Winterdell, due to the growing tension with Shiraz. My unit’s been ordered to reinforce Arden’s eastern border. I leave in one sennight.”

Gib’s stomach flopped. “H–how long will you be there?”

“I’m not sure,” Liza admitted with a shrug. Her nonchalance didn’t fool either of them. They knew how dangerous it was to be stationed along the border Arden shared with Shiraz. “I’ll be there half a wheelturn at least.”

“
Half a wheelturn?
” Gib didn’t mean for his voice to spike, but the shock hit him like a rock to the face. “I’m sorry, it’s just—how am I going to figure out what to do with the farm if you’re gone? And the boys—I don’t even know—” He bit his bottom lip and glared at the floor.
Liza doesn’t need to hear me complain. She has enough to worry about without me blathering on
.

“I’m sorry, too,” Liza sighed, hugging him close. “I’m sorry that life hasn’t gone as planned. But our family is strong—you, me, Tay, Cal—we’ll be all right. No matter what fate decides to throw at us next, we’ll get through it. And when the time comes to make a decision about the farm, you’ll do the right thing, Gib. The boys trust your judgment, as do I.”

Gib swallowed the lump that formed in the back of his throat. His eyes burned, tears threatening to spill over his eyelashes, but with a shuddering sigh, he blinked them away. Things could always be worse, much worse. It looked as though Tayver and Calisto would survive the winter, Liza was alive and well even if she was being sent into danger, and Gib had a warm bed to sleep in, friends to laugh with—and Joel Adelwijn.
Deep breaths, everything is going to be okay
.

Gib turned to look Liza in the eye with renewed resolve. “I’ll try to make you proud, Liza. I promise.”

His sister gave him a small, knowing smile. “You always do, Gib. Always.”
 

The next two sennights were hell on Gib’s body and mind as he tried desperately to keep up with the demands Weapons Master Roland placed. The private lessons were brutal, and each night Gib had to drag himself back to his room. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he could have simply gone to sleep upon his return, but he had to study for his other classes. He became reliant on Kezra and Nage to give him pertinent information each morning at breakfast from the previous day’s lesson.

Nights were spent studying and practicing his reading and arithmetic skills. Joel was wonderful about helping as much as possible, but still Gib feared this extra strain may hurt their blooming romance. How long could these extra lessons possibly last? He wasn’t sure he could continue this way until the end of the academic year, still three moonturns away.

At practice, Tarquin pulled his chosen sword from its holster on the wall and gave Gib a small nod. They’d missed each other after midday meal today and had each walked to the palace alone. The boys’ faces were known well enough now that they were rarely stopped other than to show their badges to the sentries posted at the gate. Didier was running late and Gib wished he’d brought a book. He could have been practicing his reading while he waited for the prince.

Tarquin took off his hat. In the enclosed arena, he didn’t need protection from the sun. “Want to drill with me until they show up? I want my muscles to loosen up a little before—”

“Before Master Roland beats us to death?” Gib offered wryly.

Tarquin snickered. It was easy enough to joke now, but in a few marks none of them would be in any mood for merriment. They took their starting stances and were prepared to begin sparring when the door behind them opened. Didier hurried through, followed closely by his newest servant, russet-haired Gideon.

Diddy trotted over to them. “Master Roland isn’t here yet?”

“No,” Gib grunted, keeping a close eye on Tarquin. They had begun to circle each other now, each boy looking for an opening to strike. “We’re just warming—” Tarquin launched himself and Gib darted aside, grinning at his improved speed. “—up.”

The prince was entirely inattentive as he paced across the tiled floor. “I wonder if he’s still with Father. They were in deep discussion earlier.” Gib had a hard time listening and watching Tarquin at the same time. The sentinel trainee opted to save himself from receiving any more broken limbs. Diddy didn’t appear to be talking to him anyway.

After Gib had worked up a sweat, the arena door swung open again. He and Tarquin stopped long enough to see who had joined them. Weapons Master Roland came through the arched doorway, barely casting a glance in their direction. He was invested in conversation with the same tall, dark-haired man who had supervised the boys’ first private lesson. Roland and the stranger were followed by a handful of royal guards, and all the men swept off to the viewing auditorium without a single word to the students. Gib glanced at Tarquin, who merely shrugged.

Gib heaved a sigh. “One more drill before certain death?”

Tarquin chuckled. “Yeah. Let me get a drink quick.” He holstered his weapon and went over to a bucket set aside for drinking. Lifting the ladle, the young highborn took a long gulp of water. Gib considered doing the same. Once they began their training, they would find no time for drinks. With a grunt, Gib holstered his blade as well and went for a drink.

Tarquin turned to look at Diddy as they shared turns with the ladle. “Something has Diddy up in arms. What do you think they’re talking about up there?” He nodded in the direction of the gallery.

Gib shrugged. “Something to do with the safety of the royal family maybe? Perhaps there’s been news.”

Tarquin snorted and rolled his eyes. “It’s just not like Diddy to be so preoccupied.”

At length, Roland strode away from the other men and came upon the trainees. His face was set in a grim mask and Gib’s stomach flopped. “Gibben, Tarquin, to me. You as well, Your Highness, if I may.” The three approached in unison and waited in tense silence for further instruction.

Roland glanced over his shoulder, and Gib followed the gaze. The tall, dark-haired stranger and royal guards were waiting in icy silence, all eyes on the arena. It was an eerie feeling to be under their scrutiny.

The Weapons Master spoke mainly to Diddy. “They want to see your progress, Highness. The three of you need to be at your best. Show them everything you’ve learned. This will determine whether these private lessons continue.”

Diddy nodded, his face grim.

Roland’s eyes were apologetic, though his voice remained rough and authoritative. “Prepare yourself, Highness. We wait for one other and then you’ll begin.”

Gib waited until they had moved out of Roland’s earshot before questioning the prince. “What’s going on? Why would they stop the lessons?”

Gideon was already helping Diddy remove his fine cape and restrictive doublet. The servant would fetch the sword in a moment, as he did each day, and Diddy would thank him despite what Hasain had said about not needing to thank the servants.

Diddy looked back at the men in the auditorium. “It has been suggested that lessons with you and Tarquin may be risky. The High Council says either of you could be spies or informants for the assassin.” Tarquin balked and Diddy gestured for the young lord to keep his voice low. “I know it’s ridiculous and Father thinks the same, but we have to prove that I’ve made adequate progress or the risk will be deemed too high. So please, be serious about this, friends.”

Gib frowned. “What will happen if they decide you haven’t progressed enough?”

Diddy’s eyes were wide and hopelessly lost. “I won’t be able to go to class anymore. In the future, even when this danger has passed, I’ll be given a tutor and forced to stay within the palace walls.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. What does your progress here have to do with you taking other classes once the danger is gone? You won’t have to lift a sword for your history lesson or law lectures.”