A Call to Arms: Book One of the Chronicles of Arden (17 page)

“Gibben Nemesio.” He stood at his full height—still shorter than her—before bowing to her as any gentleman should bow to a lady. “My name is Gibben Nemesio. Please accept my apology and know it is sincere.”

The prostitute seemed at a loss as she replied in a soft tone, “My name is Gwenth Fauve. I love music. And I know you’re sincere.” She smiled when he kissed the back of her hand.

Gib returned the smile. “Have a good night.”

He left with his friends before he could think about what had just happened and how many pairs of eyes were watching his retreat. He chose not to think about the injustice of what life must be like for those who had only their bodies to sell. And he chose not to think about Joel Adelwijn’s sapphire eyes and soft voice or why either of those things made his pulse race.
 

Gib’s mood crashed down around him as they made their way back to Academy. No one said much of anything. Tarquin was especially quiet, though he stole glances at Kezra from time to time. If she noticed, she didn’t say. Instead, she and Nage kept a light conversation going between them, warding off the deafening silence that might serve as an uncomfortable wedge between the friends.

Tarquin glumly looked at his feet, and Gib wished he could be there for his friend. As it was, however, all he could think of was Joel Adelwijn and his blue eyes, perfect smile, and hushed voice. His skin itched at the idea of the older boy’s warm, firm hands touching him—Gib shook his head in an attempt to clear his wandering mind. How could this be happening? What was this? And how would he ever explain it to Joel?

His heart pounded the rest of the way. He was unsure how to feel when he returned to the room to find it empty. Relief? Disappointment? He climbed into bed but his overwhelmed thoughts wouldn’t allow sleep. So many unanswered questions raced through his head and Gib found no solace as he tried to piece together what happened earlier at the Rose. What did any of it mean? The young prostitute had all but begged him to bed her—but when she’d touched him, he’d instead longed for Joel’s soft fingers caressing his skin, his tenor voice whispering sweet words into Gib’s ears—

Gib bit down on his lip until it stung. Did this mean he liked boys instead of girls? Or was he merely confused? Joel had been so nice. Perhaps it was only a sense of deep camaraderie Gib was feeling toward the mage trainee. Just because Gib had been uninterested in the prostitute didn’t mean he wouldn’t find some other girl attractive, right? Yet no girl had ever made his heart hammer the way Joel had.

Gib tried to calm his racing mind long enough to have one coherent thought. He felt no such attraction toward any girls in his class. Even Kezra, independent and wild as she was, would only ever be a friend. Gib knew it. Deep in his heart, he
knew
. Kezra didn’t make his stomach flutter when she laughed or turn his face a dark shade of scarlet with a simple smile. But Joel did.

A desperate squeak made its way from between his pursed lips. He’d been attracted to Joel from the beginning—he just hadn’t realized it until now.
By the light of Daya, no wonder I’ve acted so awkward around him. I didn’t understand these feelings before now
. Gib’s heart was beating rapidly in his chest as he lay in the darkness, trying to digest this new revelation about himself. He didn’t know what he should do. Should he tell Joel? His friends and family? Perhaps he shouldn’t tell anyone at all.

Gib’s mind dwelled on the horrible things Annwyne had said, all the rumors and gossip that had been directed toward Joel, and the fear in Syther Lais’ voice when the boy had defended his decision to remain veiled in secrecy. Maybe it would be wise for Gib to do the same. After all, Joel had been highborn, rich, the son of one of the most powerful men in Arden, and his confession had nearly cost him everything. What would Gib, a poor common-born farmer, stand to lose if people found out? If he simply kept quiet, no one would have to know.

The sentinel trainee glared at the ceiling, tears threatening to spill over from his chestnut eyes.
Why? Why this? As if being a poor fool wasn’t bad enough. Even if I keep this a secret while I’m in Academy, even if I go to war and manage to survive, I’ll still be expected to marry a woman upon my return. I just can’t—I don’t want to
. Gib wiped a hand across his cheek, catching the rebellious tear that dared fall. He was so confused. His heart ached and he wished there was someone he could talk to
. I could try to find Liza. She would listen
. But Gib had no idea where in Silver his sister was stationed. He didn’t know how to locate her. That left only Joel.
I have to tell him. He’s the only one who will know what to do. He’s the only one who will understand
. Gib choked back a cry.
Chhaya’s bane, how did I never know before?

The entire room was beginning to spin. Gib slammed his eyes closed and rolled onto his side, bringing the blanket up to his chin as though by doing so, he could wrap himself away from the rest of the world. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, listening to the howl of the wind against the shuttered window. The gale outside was as brutal and violent as the one that raged within his heart.

Even though the blankets were stuffed thick with wool, the cold managed to seep through his clothing, under skin, and into joints and bones. Gib clasped at the splint holding his shattered wrist in place and winced as a tendril of icy pain shot up his arm. How was he ever to be expected to sleep under these conditions? His body and soul ached with terrible anguish. Gib had never missed home more than he did in that instant. He wished he was at the farm with a roaring fire in the hearth, spreading warmth throughout the cottage. Gib and his brothers would be curled up on straw cots in front of the flame, telling stories and laughing before falling asleep in the drowsy heat. There would be nothing to hide, nothing to fear. He wouldn’t have to worry about who he was. Everything would be simple again.

The sound of a door hinge clicking into place stirred Gib from his restless slumber. The sentinel trainee blinked, but his eyes refused to adjust to the darkness. The candle beside his bed had long since burned itself out, the wax pooled and hardened at the bottom of the metal cup. It was impossible to know how long he’d been asleep. What time was it?

Gib remained still, pretending to sleep, but Joel must have heard him stir, for the mage trainee called out in a whisper, “I apologize. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Gib’s stomach was seized in unbearable knots. He opened his mouth to speak, but it took multiple tries to get the words to come forth. “It’s okay,” the sentinel trainee managed at last. “I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

Joel struck a match and a moment later, candlelight illuminated the room. Joel’s mouth was titled downward as he turned his blue eyes on Gib. “Cold?”

Gib looked down at his own hands when he realized they were shaking. He didn’t feel cold. “I, uh, only a little, I guess. I just had a long night. My mind refuses to keep quiet. And my wrist aches.” He motioned toward the splint.

Joel pursed his lips before going to the chest at the end of his bed. He flung it open and emptied the contents. “I have some extra furs in here that you’re welcome to borrow. On bitter nights like these, one can never be wearing too much clothing.”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Gib protested, cheeks going red. “I’ll just—I’m fine, really. My blankets are plenty warm enough, I swear to you.”

His roommate studied Gib narrowly before grabbing a cloak lined with soft rabbit fur. “At least take this.” Joel marched over and gave Gib such a look that he didn’t dare say no.

The sentinel trainee struggled with his one functioning hand to get the cloak around his shoulders, and his heart skipped a beat when Joel leaned down to help adjust it. Gib met the other boy’s gaze for a second before tearing his eyes away. Joel’s crystal orbs always managed to undo Gib, now more so than ever.

The mage trainee nodded his head toward Gib’s bandaged wrist. “Might I have a look at it? Is the pain worse than before?”

“It just aches a little,” Gib admitted. “I think I had too much fun earlier at the Rose.”

The corner of Joel’s mouth twitched. “You went to the Rose Bouquet? How did you like it?”

Gib kept his eyes on Joel’s hands as the mage set his fingers atop the splint. “It was loud. The people there were—nice. It was refreshing to see the rich as well as the common folk all mingling under one roof.” He winced when Joel pressed down a bit too hard on his thumb. “That’s the spot that hurts. I think I bumped the side of my hand earlier.”

Joel nodded but didn’t remove his fingers. “It’s swollen again. I can help ease the pain if you’ll allow me.”

“Can you Heal?”

The mage trainee shook his head. “No. But I can block the pain temporarily.”

Gib swallowed. “More magic?”

“Mmm, yes. But don’t worry, it’s a fairly basic spell.” Joel cradled Gib’s injury in one hand while placing the other atop the splint. “All mage trainees are taught from a very young age how to shield themselves against outside forces, whether it be to ward against pain, emotion, or other magic. Some of us can extend our shields to include others. I can fool your mind into believing there is no pain.”

The idea of magic—especially magic being directed toward him—still made Gib’s nerves flare, but he wholly trusted Joel, so with only minor hesitation, the sentinel trainee nodded his consent. “All right, see what you can do.”

Joel seemed to be concentrating on the injury, so Gib focused his own attention on steadying his heartbeat and ragged breaths. He hoped his roommate noticed neither. Gib’s mind was racing. He wanted to confess his revelations discovered earlier that night, but an awkward silence had settled over the room and he couldn’t think of a good way to initiate such a discussion.

For a while, the only sounds were the wind rattling through the shutters and the voices of doubt plaguing Gib’s mind. He tried to relax but found the task impossible.
Daya, I need to talk to him. I need to be certain I’m not mistaken
. A horrible thought ran through his mind.
What if he doesn’t even believe me? What if he thinks I just want attention?
Some kind of desperate noise made its way up his throat, and Joel glanced up at the sound.

“Do you feel anything now?”

Gib looked down. Joel’s hands were radiating warmth as his fingers rested gently atop the splint. The sentinel trainee found himself focusing all his attention on those soft hands, admiring their graceful strength.

“Gib?”

He blinked. Had Joel just spoken? Gib’s mind was so clouded he couldn’t be sure. He dared to flash his eyes upward and felt his airway constrict. He couldn’t breathe. Joel was looking back, fair features uncertain and brows knit in confusion. The mage trainee parted his lips as though to repeat whatever words he’d previously uttered, but Gib’s own words came tumbling forth.

“When did you know?” Gib blurted out. When the mage trainee hesitated to respond—perhaps because he didn’t understand the question—Gib went on to say, “When did you know you didn’t like girls?”

Joel did nothing to conceal his shock. His grip on Gib’s hand faltered, blue eyes wide with some obscure pang of emotion. “I—”

Gib dropped his face to the floor, feeling the heat rise from the back of his neck to his cheeks. “Wait. You don’t have to answer that.”

“No, it’s all right.” Joel’s voice was only slightly strained now. The mage cleared his throat but didn’t completely release Gib’s hand. “I suppose I had seen my eleventh summer when I began to realize that I was—not like my peers. I wasn’t yet old enough to enter Academy, so I spent a lot of my time being a nuisance by following Liro and his friends everywhere. He didn’t mind so much back then though. Not at first anyway.”

Gib raised an eyebrow. “Liro? Your brother, Liro?”

Joel smiled. “He used to be different. I know it’s hard to comprehend.” A deep sigh escaped his mouth. “There were little signs here and there, foreshadowing what would come to be known to me as I discovered myself. I remember Liro scolding me one time for playing with my sister’s dolly. Another time, the older boys went swimming in the river and my father caught me spying on them while they were changing back into dry clothes. At the time, I didn’t understand why Father was so upset—” Joel’s pale cheeks began to flush with color as he spoke. “It wasn’t until Liro started courting a young lady that I truly realized how different I was. Her name was Amara and even I can admit she was a beauty. Indeed, all of Liro’s friends were quite infatuated by her perfectly placed features. They were all wooed, but I didn’t understand it. Liro, of course, joked that I was still too young yet to appreciate women and in my innocence, I was inclined to agree with him. Until I met Amara’s younger brother.”