Nightfall: Book Two of the Chronicles of Arden (49 page)

Nawaz never took his eyes away from Liro, though he surely must have known his wife was approaching. “Leave,” he whispered, the word falling from his mouth like the hiss of a serpent. “Now.”

Heidi and Bailey were right behind them, still conversing, but within earshot. Joel’s stance went rigid, and he even contemplated turning around and leading Heidi away from the confrontation. She didn’t need to witness a brawl at her own wedding celebration.

Liro finally seemed to notice them too. Locking his jaw, he bowed mockingly and turned a cold gaze onto Heidi. “I’ll take my leave now.” He stormed away without saying anything more.

Heidi looked around the somber table. “Is everything—all right?”

Nawaz sighed and his shoulders sagged once again. “Everything’s fine. Come sit down.”

Heidi hesitated at first, but after a gentle prod from Bailey, she made her way back to her chair.

More guests were beginning to approach the dais now, so Joel said his farewells. As he turned to leave, however, Nawaz leaned across the table and caught his arm. “Remember what I said. Talk to him.”

Joel gave a breathless nod and turned his back to the dais.
Nawaz is right. I can’t live inside these walls of stone forever
. He scanned the room, seeking out Gib.

He caught a glimpse of his companion, standing on the far side of the ballroom. Gib looked lovely in his fawn-colored jerkin and white tunic. His curls were almost long enough to graze the tops of his shoulders now. Strands of gold mingled with the darker shades of brown beneath the light of the chandeliers, matching his chestnut eyes as though The Two Themselves had planned it that way.

Joel’s stomach twisted.
Gods, I miss him
.

He took a step but stopped short as Marc and Lady Beatrice made their way through the crowd and promptly engaged Gib in conversation. Joel planted his feet on the red velvet carpet. He didn’t want to intrude.
I’ll just wait until they’re done speaking
.

“Hello, Lord Joel Adelwijn.”

The tenor voice, despite being soft, caught Joel off guard. His gaze fell away from Gib.

Kirk Bhadrayu stood before him, dressed in a flowing white robe and a blue sash that wrapped around the slender trunk of his body. His eyes retained warmth, though the smile that flitted across his lips was hesitant. Joel couldn’t fault Kirk for that. The last time they’d exchanged words, Kirk’s best attempt at a friendly interaction had been met with cold resignation.

Joel inclined his head in greeting. “Lord Joel Adelwijn? I wasn’t aware we were on such formal standings.”

A more genuine smile spread across Kirk’s face. “Apologies. I didn’t want to be rude.”

“You look well.” Joel nodded toward the young man’s attire. “I see you’ve been fitted for your student mage robes. The Ardenian colors suit you.”

Kirk looked briefly down at his garment. “Do you really think so? Kenisha told me I look like a barbarian.”

A chuckle burst free from Joel’s throat before he could think to stop it. “A barbarian?”

“Indeed.” Kirk grinned sheepishly. “Though she looks like a love-struck fool. Look at her over there! I can hardly stand to watch!” He motioned across the ballroom.

Joel followed his gaze and was surprised to see Kirk’s sister howling with laughter as she danced with a young man. “Huh. I do believe that’s Weapons Master Roland’s son.”

“She’s been hanging off his arm all afternoon.” Kirk scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ve never in my entire life seen her so smitten.”

A sly grin crept upon Joel’s mouth. He leaned a little closer to Kirk and conspired jokingly, “You best stay watchful or you might be attending a
second
wedding ceremony this year.”

“Ha ha. You’re hilarious.”

“On rare occasions, perhaps.”

Kirk glanced away from the dancing long enough to make timid eye contact with Joel. The trainee’s fair cheeks flushed pink. “It’s nice to see your smile again.”

Joel could feel his own face growing warm. He played with one of his sleeves to spare himself from having to meet Kirk’s gaze. “To be honest, I’d nearly forgotten how to.” He let out a deep sigh. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you. Your country is delightful. I’m so grateful to be in Arden.”

“
Our
country,” Joel reminded him. “You’re a part of it now, too.”

The song ended and many of the dancers on the floor took a reprieve. Kenisha trotted back to the banquet table with her suitor, her lips moving rapidly as she engaged him in cheery conversation. Joel had to admit, he’d never seen her in such high spirits either.

“I suppose I should go meet her ‘friend,’” Kirk muttered under his breath.

Again, Joel was surprised by how easy the laughter fell from his lips. “For what it’s worth, Roland Korbin’s son is okay. I mean, I don’t really know him, but I don’t think he’d take advantage of her or anything.”

“I believe you, but she’s my sister, and—”

“You feel the need to protect her.” Joel smiled and nodded. “I know. I’m the same way with Heidi and Carmen.”

Kirk bowed. “Farewell. Please tell your sister that I wish her and Nawaz Arrio all the best.”

“I will. Goodbye.”

Joel watched Kirk slip into the crowd, a warm, pleasant sensation spreading from Joel’s belly to his chest.
I’d almost forgotten what it’s like to smile, to laugh—to have a friend I can talk to. I forgot how much I missed it all
.

Marc’s boisterous laughter cut through the air, catching Joel’s ear. The dean and Lady Beatrice now stood at the foot of the dais, conversing with Koal, who’d also taken a break from dancing.

Gib
.

Joel looked to the place where he’d last spotted the understudy. Gib was no longer there. Frowning, Joel scanned the entire room. Still there was no sign of his former companion. He even walked the entire length of each banquet table. Nothing. Where had Gib gone? He hadn’t left, had he?

Weaving through the ballroom toward the grand entranceway, Joel continued his search.
 

“
Hello
? Gib?”

Gib blinked. He’d been so transfixed watching Joel as the mage went to the front of the ballroom and began to speak to Nawaz that he’d missed almost everything Tayver had just said. Forcing himself to tear his eyes away from the dais, Gib cranked his neck around and met his brother’s critical glare. “Sorry, what was that?”

With an exasperated huff, Tayver rolled his eyes. “I was asking what you thought about the dress.”

“Dress?”

The younger brother groaned. “
Heidi’s
dress! You know, the one I helped design?”

Gib winced. “Oh, right. It’s great, Tay.” When that earned him only a baleful scowl, he sighed and issued an apology. “I’m sorry. My head’s been full all day. Really, you did a great job on the gown. I should have told you so earlier.”

Tayver leaned back in his chair, cocking one eyebrow. His gaze flickered past Gib, and even without looking, Gib knew his brother was watching Joel as the mage spoke to those sitting on the dais. “You should go talk to him.”

Gib stiffened. He really didn’t want to have this conversation right now. “I already tried. He shut me out.”

“Then try again. I mean, it’s obvious you aren’t ready to give up on him.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want. I can only push so much. He clearly wants nothing more to do with me.”

Tayver’s voice grew softer. “You might not get another chance. Stop being stubborn and go say whatever is on your mind, because it’s clear that you have something you want to tell him.”

Gib bit his lip and stole another forlorn glance at Joel. Heidi was making her way back to her seat, and Nawaz had reached across the table to clasp Joel’s arm as the two exchanged goodbyes. Gib sighed. “
Fine
. I’ll be back.”

Tayver gave him a hearty thump on the back. “That’s the spirit. Let me know how it goes.”

Gib swatted at his brother, but Tayver was crafty enough to escape the blow. Mustering up what little courage he could find, Gib slipped from his chair and started to weave through the crowd. He didn’t make a straight line for the dais. Instead, he meandered slowly, giving plenty of time to start doubting himself. Would Joel be receptive to talking? Would he feel the same way? Or would he become angry or even hostile?

Gib stopped in his tracks, wringing his hands together as he stared at the tiled floor.
Maybe this is a bad idea. I promised to give him space. I promised myself I’d try to move on. I can’t keep doing this
— Gib locked his jaw. He and Joel had been companions for nearly three years. He couldn’t walk away just yet.
One more attempt. One more try. If he doesn’t let me in now, this is it. This has to stop
. With renewed determination, he lifted his chin.

“Gibben!” Marc’s jovial voice cut through the crowd.

The dean and his wife, Beatrice, came to a stop before him. Marc wore a black overcoat while the lady donned a flowy, velvet dress. Dressed in matching colors, they looked the perfect couple.

Marc reached out to pat Gib’s arm. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Yes,” Gib replied. “I can hardly believe all this was thrown together in less than two sennights.”

“Aye. The power of the pocketbook.” Marc grinned, staring past Gib in the direction of the dais. “My nephew cleans up well, doesn’t he?”

Gib chuckled. “Surprisingly, yes.” He gave a little bow to Lady Beatrice, his former Ardenian Law professor. “How are you feeling? When is the baby due to arrive?”

Beatrice set one hand on her
very
round belly. Her smile was tight. “Any time now. I’d feel much better if there weren’t reports of an influenza outbreak in the Northern provinces. Hopefully it stays far away from Silver City.”

Marc rubbed his wife’s shoulders. “Stop worrying so much! Your constant fretting isn’t good for the baby, you know.”

“I’m fretting
because
we have a little one on the way. I’d like to not have to worry about the baby falling ill.”

“On the bright side,” Gib offered, clearing his throat. “If the influenza does reach Silver, you can take comfort in knowing that you’re married to one of the most capable Healers in the entire city.”

Beatrice smiled up at her husband. “I suppose he’s capable enough—when he’s not busy being a clown.”

An infectious beam spread across Marc’s face. He gave Gib a wink. “She likes my roguish charm. That’s why she married me. Don’t let her convince you otherwise.”

Beatrice slapped his chest lightly. “I married you because you wouldn’t stop asking. Eventually I had to do something to get you to shut up.” She narrowed her eyes at her husband. “You really
are
a clown though.”

Still chortling, Marc motioned toward the dais. “Speaking of clowns, we should go see Nawaz before your feet start to swell again.”

“Yes, all right.” Beatrice snickered. “I wouldn’t want to ask you to carry me home or anything.”

Marc and Beatrice said goodbye and walked away. Gib watched them depart, shaking his head. Like Koal and Lady Mrifa, the dean and his wife seemed to be in one of those rare, fairytale relationships that always seemed to be perfect. Gib knew it wasn’t true—no relationship was without its share of hardships, but he couldn’t help be a little envious.

I used to think I’d fallen into such a romance. Joel and I were perfect for so long. I can hardly comprehend how broken we’ve become
.

Sighing, Gib turned to look upon his former love—and froze.

Joel hadn’t moved from his position near the dais, but he was no longer alone. The Imperial boy who’d come through the portal with the envoys, Kirk, stood beside him. Even as Gib watched, Joel leaned closer to the boy and grinned. Gib’s skin crawled at the sight of Kirk’s blush. Were they—were they flirting? His hands clenched into fists at his side.

Gentle laughter drifted to where he stood. Joel was laughing with the Imperial now.
Laughing!
He hadn’t even spared a genuine smile for Gib, yet here he was, being open with this boy he barely knew.