Illusion & Dream

Even with his back to Ethari, Runaan felt the heat of the glare between his shoulder blades. Could picture those light brown eyes ablaze with anger in the afternoon sun. It was by force of will alone that he smothered a wince. “Dali should gossip less. I thought her services were suitable enough to fix my bow.”

“Suitable? I built your bow, Runaan. If it needs repairing, then you bring it to me. You always have in the past.” The last sentence came out softer, and with a bit more emotion than Ethari all together appreciated. “Have I offended you?”

“What? No.” Runaan stood from his rock perch and faced Ethari, careful to keep the boulder between them. Offense was the last thing Ethari had caused him, and that was exactly the problem. Runaan could handle offense. The soft flutter in his chest every time the craftsman looked his way, or the warmth that unfurled there at Ethari’s smile - those were the things leaving him unmoored. Runaan folded his hands behind his back. “I simply wished not to disturb you. You seemed busy.”

“I’m the blacksmith, Runaan. Bringing your weapon to me when you’ve broken it isn’t bothering me. It’s my literal job. I shouldn’t have to hunt you down to do it. That is a bother.” Ethari adjusted the strap of his shoulder bag, but met Runaan’s eyes with an even stare of his own. 

Runaan straightened his shoulders further until his posture rivaled the stone fixtures in the Silvergrove. He spoke in the cool, crisp tone usually reserved for his assassins, but his hands clenched behind his back. “There was no need for you to seek me out, Ethari. If I wanted to leave my weapon in your care, then I would have, but you weren’t necessary to repair it. You wasted your own time.”

Ethari’s eyes, normally so bright with molten warmth, went brittle beneath their rapid cooling. He tugged a strap from his shoulder, revealing a long canister, and tossed it across the space between them. Runaan caught it with a frown, but Ethari was already speaking. “I will keep that in mind in the future. My apologies for bothering you, Runaan. It won’t happen again.”

Ethari turned on his heel and stalked out of the clearing before Runaan could say anything else. He looked down at the cylinder in his hand and, after taking a bracing breath, unscrewed the top. His bow, newly repaired and tenderly wrapped within the case so it wouldn’t scuff, waited inside. Runaan dropped his head with a huff. Already, an ugly feeling was winding around his ribs and crawling towards his lungs, making it hard to breathe. 

“Well, that couldn’t have gone much worse if you’d put actual effort into it.”

Runaan’s head jerked up, and he scowled when he spotted Lain lounging against the trunk of a nearby tree. “What?”

His best friend grinned. He shoved away from the tree and crossed the clearing, claiming a seat on the rock Runaan had previously occupied. “Oh, even I get the cold shoulder? You’re in a mood.”

Runaan’s shoulders dipped the barest amount at the rebuke and he settled on the rock next to Lain, who reached over and offered him a moonberry. Ignoring the offered gesture, Runaan continued to stare at his reclaimed bow. “I thought you were training for the Guard this week.”

“I am, or was - it’s the end of the week, Runaan. Your head really isn’t here, is it?” Lain’s brows drew down as he looked over at Runaan. Beneath the facade of perfection, his friend strove to present were dark circles and slumped shoulders. Lain bumped his shoulder into Runaan, his easy humor replaced with concern. “What’s wrong?”

Runaan shook his head, but pinched at the bridge of his nose as if fighting a headache. “Nothing, just a long week.”

“Right, because you normally tear Ethari’s head off when he goes out of his way to be kind to you. Did the two of you fight?” At Runaan’s look, Lain waved his hand. “I mean, besides the obvious one just a few minutes ago.”

“No. What could we possibly fight about? He always takes exceptional care of my weapons, and that is all the involvement we have.” As he spoke, Runaan absently trailed his fingers along the cylinder containing his bow.

Lain stared at him for a long, long moment before the laughing started. He braced himself against Runaan’s shoulder as he pitched sideways with amusement. Runaan glowered down at him. “What?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Lain said, reclaiming his breath but not his balance as he remained leaning on his friend. “Come on, Runaan. We all know how you and Ethari feel about each other. The only ones still in denial about it are the two of you. Actually, probably just you. I’d wager Ethari knows exactly how he feels about you.”

“Probably like I’m a right arse,” Runaan muttered, fingers still stroking his bow.

Lain snorted and crossed his legs in front of him, finally straightening away from Runaan. “Well, yeah. Right now, that’s true enough, but generally he likes you. More than likes you. I thought you had - uh - similar inclinations with him.”

“I-“ Runaan bit down hard on his tongue as his mouth attempted to betray him. “It’s complicated.”

“What isn’t complicated with you?” Lain said with a roll of his eyes. “For whatever my opinion is worth, I think you’d be good together.”

Runaan just shook his head and stood up, slinging the canister with his bow over his shoulder. “I need to go, and shouldn’t you be getting back to Tiadrin?”

Sensing that pushing the topic any further would only result in Runaan slamming a stone wall between them, Lain sighed and stood as well. “She sent me out to find you. I’m supposed to invite you to dinner, but I suspect you’re going to decline.”

Runaan offered an apologetic smile as they headed back towards the grove. “My apologies, but I can’t tonight. I have to prepare.”

“That’s right, you have a mission soon, don’t you? The full moon is just a week away. When do you leave?” 

“In three days.”

Lain tugged at his braid as they walked, tilting his head back to glimpse the stars through the gaps in the trees. He tapped the fingers of his other hand against his leg and kept his eyes off Runaan, making his best attempt at casual. “You should have Ethari look over your weapons, just in case.”

The tension radiated between them at the name, but Lain continued to pretend he wasn’t aware and eventually Runaan’s shoulders eased. “My weapons are fine. It would be a distraction and a waste of his time.”

“I don’t think Ethari minds and making sure you are safe isn’t a waste of time, Runaan. I know you’re the rising star of the assassins, but you’re not infallible and you have people here who would be quite perturbed to lose you.”

Runaan twisted to stare at Lain, teal eyes wide. Lain blinked at him and then frowned. “You do know people care about you, right?”

“Of course,” Runaan said, but the surprise lingered. “It’s not that, just - I’m an assassin. Our life expectancy is limited and I forget not everyone must come to terms with that fact as we do.”

Lain rolled his eyes and bumped his shoulder against Runaan’s with a laugh. “See, this is why I love you. Your sunny disposition and optimism never fail to brighten my day.”

Runaan smiled despite himself, shaking his head and sending the wave of his white hair swaying behind him. They’d reached the entrance to the Silvergrove, but Runaan lingered at the ritual gate. “Go ahead, and tell Tiadrin I send my best. I promise to visit after the mission.”

Garland stared at Kai like his brain had just blue-screened. Under the table, Brooklyn nudged him with the toe of his shoe. “Not quite the reaction you wanted, was it?”

“Why?” Garland said, like Brooklyn hadn’t spoken. “If you know, then why the fuck are you working with him? Helping him?”

“Is that what I’m doing?” Kai flicked a speck of dust off his shoulder before leveling his gaze back on Garland. “How did you think this was going to go? You’d reveal this deep dark truth and I’d… what? Flip sides? Help you? Help Boris? I know you can’t be that dense, Siebald.”

“In his defense,” Brooklyn said, a small smile playing along his lips as he traced the rim of his glass with a finger. “You’re hardly known for your loyalty. Family, friends, coworkers—they’ve all been expendable to you in the past.”