A Call to Arms: Book One of the Chronicles of Arden (39 page)

Nawaz grunted. Rolling his eyes, he flopped onto one of the lounges in the study and fixed his crystal stare on Gib. “How you feelin’, Gib? Both of you, really.”

Gib forced a smile as he sat in a chair near the fireplace. “Fine. Why do you ask?” He fought not to cringe at the sound of his own voice. He was a terrible liar and could only hope Nawaz was stupid enough not to see. Of course, the young lord wasn’t, and Joel was having none of Gib’s denial anyway.

The mage student cleared his throat and looked directly at Gib. “He’s having nightmares. He can’t sleep. Is there something you can do for him?”

Gib opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by Nawaz, who jumped to his feet and flashed a wide grin. “Marc is busy tending to the King—who’s the worst patient ever—so you’re stuck with me.”

His long stride brought him across the room in an instant and he was looking into Gib’s face as if it could give all the needed answers. Nawaz’s hands were heavy on Gib’s shoulders and the genuine look of concern was nearly enough to undo him on the spot.

“Specific nightmares or something more vague?”

Gib thought to lie and press that nothing was wrong—but Joel knew the truth and Nawaz was sure to know as well. Hanging his head, the sentinel trainee heaved a sigh. “I—it’s always about the assassin. I mean, it’s only been the last two nights but each time it’s the same thing.”

Nawaz nodded and his mouth set into a thin line. “All right. Have you talked to anyone about the dreams? Or about your experience with the assassin?”

Not this again
. Gib folded his arms over his chest. “I’ve spoken until I was blue in the face! What good could more talking do?”

The healer stood back to his full height. He was nothing but giving, listening to Gib’s answer and objecting about nothing. Gib didn’t know why but it frustrated him. Shouldn’t Nawaz have something sharp to say? Shouldn’t his eyes sparkle with mischief and delight as he proclaimed Gib a weakling and the dreams simply the young man’s overactive imagination? Shouldn’t Nawaz dismiss Gib as foolish?

“Death is no glamorous thing. It tends to haunt people who are inexperienced with it—”

“My parents are both dead. I have experience with it.” Gib flinched at the way his voice grated. He hadn’t meant to be so foul.

If Nawaz noticed he didn’t bring attention to it. The young lord continued to be gracious and took a seat in the sill opposite Gib. “You were there when they died? You felt to blame?”

Jittery, angry panic rose up within Gib’s guts. “I’m not to blame for the assassin! There wasn’t anything more I could do. The King said so—” He took a ragged breath. If that were true then why did he still shake at the thought of it?

Nawaz was on his feet and at Gib’s side before the sentinel trainee noticed the difference. Taking one knee, Nawaz looked Gib in the eye, and he flattened against the back of his chair.

The voice which was usually so crisp and full of humor was soft and crystal blue eyes were nonjudgmental. “The King is right, but do you realize that? Do you understand how fortunate you are to be alive? The assassin was a grown man, a trained killer, and you faced him alone. If not for you, the King would be dead.”

Gib flinched.

“Death is jarring. There was nothing pleasant about seeing that man’s broken body on the floor, but there was nothing to be done for him. With all of the King’s men there—the best trained soldiers in our entire land—there was nothing to be done. None of them were failures and neither are you.”

Gib’s mouth had gone dry and his eyes were so wide they hurt. He was distantly aware of Joel’s arm around his shoulders. Nawaz remained on his knee, not touching Gib, but still close.

The trainee’s heart pounded so hard he could scarcely hear his voice over it. “I was right there when he fell. I should have grabbed him or something. What if it had been Koal or Liro who fell?”

Joel squeezed Gib, whispering words of comfort into his hair. Nawaz shook his head vaguely. “No. Even if it had been Koal or Liro, if you had reached for them then you would have fallen. You’d be dead too. There was nothing you could do.”

A tear burned its way down Gib’s cheek. He jumped to wipe it away. Why did he have to feel like this? His head knew there was nothing more he could have done, but his heart—a sob broke free from within his throat and he buried his face in his hands.

“I–I have to be strong. Always. I have to care for Tayver and Calisto. They’re all I have left, but I couldn’t even protect someone I didn’t love. What would happen if one of my brothers were hurt? Or Liza?” He gasped for air, reeling for some purchase on the real world. “I couldn’t help Ma, I was too young. And Pa didn’t take me with him the day he died.” His anguish swelled into rage. “I should have been there! I could have helped him!”

Joel’s lips were still in Gib’s hair. “Oh, Gib, no—there are terrible things in the world. You can’t undo them all.” The mage trainee somehow squeezed in beside Gib on the chair and was holding him close. “You’re a hero, but no hero can save the world on his own.”

Gib fell against Joel and cried. The sentinel trainee couldn’t do anything else. A mark ago he hadn’t known he felt any of these things and now they were crushing and tearing him apart.

Nawaz patted Gib’s knee and said something to Joel about departing to allow them privacy. The young lord made mention of leaving something for Gib on the study desk. He couldn’t even look up, but he could hear Joel thanking Nawaz. The study door clicked shut so softly Gib was unsure he heard it over his sobs.
 

“Are you ready for this?” Joel’s words were a quiet hush in Gib’s ear. He did his best to nod and not think about what likely lay ahead for him.

Ascending the steps into Academy, Gib thought it was odd how the building looked so much smaller. When he’d first arrived in Silver, the architecture had astounded him into silence. Had he truly grown so accustomed to it already?

The halls were as busy as they ever had been, but he and Joel encountered no trouble navigating the corridors. Was it Gib’s imagination or were people parting for them? Were they whispering as well? The noise level had dropped to a low murmur. Gib was sure he wasn’t imagining it. People were staring and talking about
him
.

He met Joel’s icy blue eyes. “Don’t pay them any mind. Come with me.”

Gib’s heart hammered in his chest. “They’re watching us.”

The mage trainee kept his face down. “I know. Let’s get to our room.”

Gib’s nerves were wound so tight that when a hand grabbed his shoulder, he did the first thing that came to mind—he whirled on one heel, fist at the ready. He stopped only when he recognized the familiar hunter green eyes.

Kezra cocked a brow and smirked, voice dropping low. “Nice to see you’re in a fair mood, Nemesio.”

Gib breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry, I thought—”

Kezra shook her head, wild hair tumbling around her shoulders. “Nah. I shouldn’t have grabbed you.” She looked around at the multitude of students as they stared and raised her voice just enough to draw their attention. “If I were under such narrow examination I would have kicked an arse or two by now.”

At once people scuttled away, affording the three at least a small amount of breathing space. Tarquin and Nage were the only others who surfaced from the crowd and stayed close. Gib smiled, happy to see them all.

Joel cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should make to our room.” The mage trainee bowed modestly to Gib’s companions. “Civil company, of course, would be welcome.”

Nage and Tarquin shared a half smile before the Nessuno admitted, “I’m not sure how civil our company is, but we’ll try.”

Inside the dorm, with the door left slightly ajar—to avoid speculation about their female companion—the friends took various seats and a comfortable quiet settled. Gib didn’t know what to say and none of them seemed to be pushing. So it went for a time.

Finally, from his seat at the foot of Gib’s cot, Nage turned and asked, “Hey, you hear anything from Diddy? You think he’s gonna come back to class?”

Gib caught Joel’s expectant look. Shifting in the seat, the sentinel trainee reached for his rucksack and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. “I, uh, I got a letter from him. Nawaz dropped it off to me.”

“Well, are you gonna read it? Or at least tell us what it says?” asked Nage.

Gib stiffened. He could, but he didn’t want to. Despite his mending heart and the support of his friends, he just couldn’t summon the will to fumble over the eloquent words right now. He searched around, imploring mercy from someone, anyone. He heard Joel shift on his own bed, but Kezra had already risen and crossed the room to stand before him. She held out a hand.

“I’ll do it, if you want.”

Gib could barely meet her eyes. “Thanks. I’m just—tired.”

She nodded but offered nothing more as her eyes fell over the script. After reading it first to herself, she cleared her throat and spoke aloud for the rest of them.

“
Dearest friend Gibben,

I hope this letter finds you well. Proper words cannot express my gratitude for your actions three nights past. You are a hero for the entire country, my friend, as I’m sure you have been told countless times. I must thank you from the heart of a son. Thank you for saving my father. You risked your life so that he may live and I will forever be at your call, for anything you may need.

I wish also to bid a farewell to you and the others—Tarquin, Kezra, and Nage. I will not be allowed to attend class again. Mother fears for my safety and, for once, I agree with her. Father is likewise grudgingly admitting defeat. He is displeased with having to ‘cage’ me but insists he must do whatever it takes to ensure the family’s safety.

I miss all of you dearly. Thank you for accepting me as myself and not merely a prince. You may never know what that has meant to me.

Lastly, I wish to settle an account with you on behalf of Queen Dahlia Adelwijn of Arden. She declares you a hero, not only of Silver City, but of all of Arden. As such, she would implore you to take a gift of our gratitude—anything you may need or desire. I know it is not in your nature to accept such a reward, but she feels you deserve it. You do deserve it. Please let us know what you would consider payment for your services and understand that nothing you could ask for would ever be enough to express our gratitude.

Sincerely, Prince Didier Adelwijn of Arden
”

Kezra’s wistful smile let Gib know she was touched. Everyone else had fallen silent. Nage and Tarquin each blinked in disbelief.

“Well, what are you going to ask for?” Nage pressed.

“I don’t know.” Gib took a deep breath and tried to calm the rushing in his ears. “I can’t take something from the royal family! I only did what anyone would do, and it’s not like I saved the King completely. He still got shot. I can’t ask for a prize—”

Joel lifted his hands with an exasperated groan. “For the love of The Two, Gib, you’re being too modest!”

Kezra snorted as she handed the letter back to Gib. “Right. If not for you, the King would be dead. I’d say you’ve earned something—especially if they’re offering.”

Gib tucked the parchment away. “No. A good deed doesn’t require repayment. It was hardly a good deed anyway. I didn’t have time to think. I just acted.”

Tarquin pointed. “You acted and could have died. Not everyone would choose to act the way you did. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“I don’t know.” Gib folded his arms over his chest and looked at his feet. “What would I ask for anyway? A riding cloak and new clothes for the boys? The Queen would laugh at me. There isn’t anything else I need.”

Uncomfortable silence blossomed and Gib was determined to keep his eyes down. No one was saying anything, but he was sure they were all thinking the same thing.
I’m a poor farmer with nothing. What else do I need? Everything. But I won’t ask for it. I can’t
.

Kezra cleared her throat. “It’s a damn long walk back to Willowdale.” She put her fists on her hips and gave him a sly look. “Ask for a horse, you fool.”

A lump settled in Gib’s stomach. A horse? He could use a horse. But how would he feed it? He’d never had one before and though Liza’s had seemed to be easily cared for, he had no firsthand experience. His family had never been well off enough to afford their own. He swallowed. It would be nice not to have to walk back to Willowdale. “I suppose I could—”