"Next Best Thing"- Rian and co.
The gelfling resistance bed down in what remains of Stone-in-the-wood- of Rian’s former home. The atmosphere is rowdy and celebratory- after all, they did the impossible. Cellars are raided, drinks poured, songs sung by members of disparate clans now arm-in-arm.
Rian participates in none of it. All he can seem to do is stare at the spot where Deet disappeared into the trees, the black withering of the plants where she had passed. They are counting on him to be a leader, to step up as he had in the fires to bring them all here, but he can’t seem to feel anything but numb. Alone. This victory is only temporary. They stand on the brink of open war, and he doesn’t think he can take one more loss.
Sometime after the fires die and the raucous noise subsides, Brea silently takes him by the hand and leads him back.
There are far more gelfling camped here than the village was built for, so many have pulled blankets and cushions into Maudra Fara’s spacious throne room. It feels cramped, yet somehow empty and wrong without her powerful presence. In one corner he finds his friends- Gurjin and Naia in a pile of tangled dreadlocks, Kylan curled into Naia’s other side. A few feet away, as though she doesn’t quite feel she belongs yet- Seladon. Settling beside her sister, Brea pats the remaining open space.
It has been many trine since he was small enough to sleep curled up with his family like this- he had been moved into the guards’ barracks the moment he’d mastered his basic drills. For the first time, it occurs to him that perhaps he has spent too much of his life with a blade in his hand. But they will have to reach the other side of this before he can lay it down for good.
The body heat on either side of him is warm and comforting, enough to crack the cold shell that has settled around his heart. He remembers sleeping in the crook of his father’s arm, feeling its strength and longing to be just as strong one day. Remembers his mother’s fingers in his hair, the hum of a lullaby. Remembers the way Mira’s body used to fit perfectly wrapped in his.
Mumbling sleepily, Gurjin slings an arm over his waist, and Brea’s foot brushes reassuringly against his. They aren’t his family- his family is gone- but…
Well, he supposes, they are now.
Even encircled by their love, he feels the absence of Deet- the absence of the future he had dared imagine for them- like a knife. Brea’s hand finds his hair just the way he remembers, and she says nothing as he finally allows himself to cry.