Nightfall: Book Two of the Chronicles of Arden (50 page)

The anger rushed upon him so fast Gib wasn’t sure where it even came from. It manifested out of nowhere and gripped his body with such precision that he was left teetering where he stood. Gib turned on one heel and fled. He couldn’t process all the feelings swirling in his head, and he sure as hell couldn’t face Joel or anyone else right now. Perhaps if he ran fast enough, he could escape the raw emotions attempting to latch onto his heart. He staggered up the grand staircase and through the door. No one seemed to notice his departure—least of all Joel, who was still entirely enamored by the Imperial boy.
 

Gib wandered without a destination through the corridors surrounding the ballroom. As he trudged forward, his mind went from a burning inferno of rage to a numb, desolate void. The farther he walked, the more overwhelmed he became by deep, incessant sorrow. The grief swelled in his chest, rising to his lungs, throat, and eyes, threatening to spill over. When the stairwell leading to the gallery far above came into view, he could do nothing more than slump against the bottom rung and stare into the gloom.

Gib clutched his head with both hands, at a loss. He’d been only a dozen paces away from Joel. He could have shouted to him from across the floor. He almost could have reached out and touched him. He’d known what he wanted to say and had been prepared to fight for what he wanted—and then—

Joel looked so happy, smiling and laughing with the Imperial boy. He clearly doesn’t need me to rescue him. It was foolish to assume he ever did. He’s moving on without me, and I’m an idiot to keep holding onto the idea that we still have a future together
. Gib’s eyes slammed shut as he tried to contain the tears brimming beneath his lids.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there. Whether it was only a few seconds or an entire mark, he couldn’t know. Time seemed to have come to a grinding halt. All he knew was that he couldn’t return to the ballroom. He couldn’t face the sight of Joel laughing and enjoying himself with his new friend. Not when Gib himself felt so utterly hopeless.

“Gib?” a tentative voice called from beyond the stairwell.

Gib wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. “Who is it?” If he hadn’t been so caught up in his grief, he would have recognized the soft, lilting voice.

It was Zandi who stepped around the corner. Concern etched the young mage’s long face, contorting his features but unable to fully mask his beauty.

Gib cleared his throat and tried to blink away the tears before the other man could see them. “What are you doing here?”

Zandi looked over his shoulder briefly. “I was just sitting at the banquet table, bored out of my mind, and then I saw you leave rather hastily and wanted to make sure everything was all right.”

“You were in the ballroom? I didn’t see you. I didn’t even know you’d been invited to the wedding.”

A nervous chuckle escaped Zandi’s lips as he reached up to toy with a strand of his raven-colored hair. “Heidi and I shared two whole classes together in Academy. I guess that was enough to warrant an invitation to her wedding.”

Gib found himself smiling despite his lousy mood. “I think she invited people she’d never even met before.”

“Would you believe she even extended an invitation to Kezra?”

Gib winced. “Not the smartest idea, I’d reckon.”

Kezra, of course, hadn’t made an appearance—not that Gib could fault her for it. He was certain it would have been too painful to look upon Nawaz and know the young lord was no longer hers. Gib let out a shaky sigh. Is that how it would be for Joel and him, too? Would he be forced to watch Joel from afar and know there was no way to share in his joy or tears?

Zandi crept closer. “Do you mind if I join you? You look like you could use some company.”

“Do I?” Gib croaked, forcing a weak smile.

Zandi’s face pinched as he nodded and took a seat next to Gib. “Why are you out here alone? Did something happen? Did someone—upset you?”

Gib dared to meet the other man’s eyes. He could tell Zandi was searching for answers. Whether or not he suspected the truth, Gib didn’t know. He shifted his gaze downward, choosing to stare vacantly at his upturned palms sitting in his lap. Habit told him to dismiss the question, but he just couldn’t bring himself to be on the defensive. Not this time.

“Nothing’s gone the way I thought it would,” Gib blurted. He focused on his hands, studying each line and blemish, certain that if he stared long enough, he would be able to dedicate all of it to memory. “When Joel got back from the Northern Empire, I was stupid enough to believe we could just pick right up where we left off and everything would be fine. It was the dream of a fool.” He choked on a mirthless laugh. “I’m a fool.”

Beside him, Zandi tensed, and at first, Gib thought the mage wouldn’t reply at all. But after a bout of prolonged silence, soft words floated through the gloom. “You’re no fool. If Joel Adelwijn dismissed someone as loyal and caring as you, then it’s his loss.
He’s
the fool.”

Gib shook his head, still glaring at his own hands. He didn’t want this to happen. He didn’t want to feel such rash anger toward his former companion. Joel didn’t deserve it. He’d never been anything but supportive. Gib’s fingers began to tremble as he stared at them. “I don’t know what the future holds anymore. I used to have a path. But now—now I’m hopelessly lost. I’m just blundering around, waiting for someone to set me on course again.”

He gasped when Zandi reached out and took hold of his hands. The mage’s touch was warm and his melodic voice drifted through the shadows, soothing Gib’s broken soul. “No one can choose a path for you, Gib. That decision is yours alone to make.” Gib could feel Zandi’s heavy gaze but didn’t dare look up. “It’s up to you to decide what you want.”

Gib blinked.
What I want—what do I want?
His mind was so muddled by a million different feelings he didn’t even know anymore. All he knew was he was tired—tired of fighting for nothing, tired of hoping in vain, and tired of running from every potential chance at finding happiness again.

He let out a shuddering sigh when Zandi squeezed his hands. He could feel the other man’s hot, jagged breaths on the side of his face and noticed belatedly that Zandi had scooted closer. Still, Gib couldn’t raise his eyes to meet those of the mage.

“You have to choose your path, but that doesn’t mean you have to walk it alone.” Zandi’s voice was like a wisp of air rustling through newly blossomed leaves. “You have so many people who care about you, who would risk life and limb if it meant seeing you happy again. Seneschal Koal, Dean Marc, Prince Didier, Tarquin, Nage, Kezra, me—” Gib did glance up then, and it was Zandi who lowered his face in an attempt to hide his painted cheeks.

“You—care that much about me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Zandi’s thick lashes fluttered as he raised his head to make slow, deliberate eye contact with Gib. “I never wanted to come between you and Joel. But I’ve always admired you, Gib. And when Joel left, I thought maybe—maybe there was a small chance for me. Talk about being a fool.”

Gib’s head spun. He didn’t know what to say or do. Never in his life had he been so conflicted. “I—” He took a deep breath and tried again. “I don’t dislike you, Zandi. The opposite might even be true. It’s just—what Joel and I had—it’s going to take me time to move on. It’s still an open wound. I don’t want to lead you on with false hope. You deserve better than a companion still grieving his last love.”

“I understand. Some wounds may never truly heal. We just have to—try to forget.”

Even in the dim light of the corridor, Gib could see the mage’s terrible, broken smile, and for the first time, Gib found himself wondering what kind of pain Zandi had suffered for him to be so understanding in this moment. Had he experienced the same, gut-wrenching heartbreak Gib now faced? Were they more alike than Gib realized?

Joel is happy with his new life. I deserve to be happy, too. Zandi has been nothing but supportive through this entire ordeal with the Northern Empire. He’s been there for me, even when I was miserable to him in return. He clearly cares about me. Is it so wrong of me to care for him in return?

Zandi began to pull his hand away, but Gib found himself latching onto it as though it was his last lifeline. “Wait,” he said through trembling lips. “Perhaps—perhaps if we take things slow—” He fumbled over his own disordered words, and Zandi’s imploring gaze was doing no favors. “I can’t promise anything. I’m just me—Gibben Nemesio, a humble understudy—but if you can overlook my many faults, if you’ll have me—”

“Of course I will have you.” Zandi’s eyes went wide, as if the mere suggestion was unspeakable. “However much time you need, you’ll have it. We can take things as slow as you want, Gib. I just—I just want you in my life.”

Gib opened his mouth, trying to respond, but the cocktail of emotions rolling in his stomach was too much. He couldn’t speak.

Zandi reached up with one hand, his smile impossibly beautiful, and stroked Gib’s cheek like it was the most precious thing in the two worlds. “Hey,” Zandi whispered. “Everything’s going to be okay. I know it is.”

He leaned closer yet and instead of running again, Gib turned and met Zandi’s piercing, emerald eyes head on.

Gib smiled, still sad, but determined to push past it. “I know it will be.” Gib set all the hurt free as he pressed his mouth to Zandi’s, losing himself in a gentle kiss. It was time to move on. It was time to heal.
 

A tear slipped down Joel’s cheek as he backed away before the two young men in the hall could see him. The hope he’d been foolish enough to believe in deflated in a single breath, crumbling like the stones of the archway. All that remained in its wake was pain—horrible, aching pain.

He’d followed Zandi after noticing the young man leaving the ballroom, and when Gib and Zandi began to speak, Joel had lingered in the shadows. He had seen the way they looked at each other and the way Gib’s eyes lit up when Zandi sat down. Joel had seen the kiss—

He clutched his chest, unbearable agony seizing his heart. The truth was a burning pyre under his flesh, slowly boiling him from the inside out and leaving his soul a shriveled, blackened husk. He gasped on a strangled whimper and staggered back toward the ballroom.
Stop crying. You did this. You went to the Northern Empire and left him here alone. You pushed him away. You even told him to move on with his life—and now he has
.

Joel could barely see through the tears clouding his vision. He was too late. Gib’s heart already belonged to another.

Joel set a hand against his mouth and yawned loudly. His eyes kept fluttering shut no matter how hard he focused his attention on the oak door in front of him. Bright, morning sunlight flooded the corridor, streaming trails of gold through the large bay windows of the academy. Holding back another yawn, Joel blinked several times in rapid succession, hoping the exercise would help rouse his drowsy mind.

It wasn’t truly that early, but over the past three moonturns, he’d grown accustomed to lounging about in bed until well after morning meal.
I’ve made a horrid habit out of sleeping in past the ninth bell toll every day. Serves me right for staggering around like the walking dead when I’m asked to be up with the sun
.

He’d been waiting outside Marc’s office for what felt like the entire morning, but in reality, Joel knew it only seemed that way because his eyelids were still heavy and he’d been in such a rush to leave the estate that he hadn’t the time to scarf down breakfast.
I don’t know why I thought that was a good idea. Tabitha all but begged me to sit and eat. Here there are countless waifs starving on the street, and my family servant can’t even force feed me fresh eggs and bacon
. On cue, Joel’s stomach gurgled. He groaned. Whatever Marc needed to talk to him about better be important.

He pulled the note from within a hidden pocket inside his robe and turned it over in his hands. Nawaz had delivered the message the previous night, saying Marc wanted to see Joel. Something about discussing his future. Perhaps it was possible Marc was going to offer a job of some sort.

Of course, Joel had a sneaking suspicion this meeting had been conceived not by the dean, but by Joel’s father. Koal had informed Joel on more than one occasion that moping around the house was doing him no favors. If Joel hadn’t been so busy trying to contemplate a way to avoid being put to work, he probably would have agreed. He
was
moping. He
knew
he was moping. But he just couldn’t bring himself to look forward to anything of late. Even a prospective job offering from Marc did nothing to inspire joy.

What’s wrong with me? We’ve been back from the Northern Empire for over three moonturns now
. Joel sighed and leaned heavily against the doorframe.
Everyone else has gotten on with their lives. Maybe Father is right. Maybe I do just need a good kick in the arse. At least if I get a job, it might keep me from thinking about Cenric’s death. Or Gib
—

Joel winced. There it was again. The dark storm cloud that followed him everywhere.
Daya, he’s moved on! Why can’t I do the same?

The door opened behind him, and Joel was forced to stand straight or topple to the floor. He spun around in time to see Marc poke his head through the gap.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” the dean said, his voice disgustingly chipper for such an early mark.

Joel let out a testy sigh. “I’ve
been
here.”

Marc waved a hand, beckoning Joel inside. “Sorry. I was catching up on paperwork. I still have three additional piles to sort through, but that’ll have to wait until after I spend my morning treating influenza patients at the Healer’s Pavilion and then drag my arse over to the palace for the council meeting. It’s going to be a
long
day, especially if Beatrice needs help with the baby when and if I ever manage to escape work.” Marc grinned. “It’s nice to see you dressed proper and out before midday. I’m sure your father must be proud now that you’ve made an attempt to rejoin the civilized world.”

So this meeting
was
Koal’s idea. Joel crossed his arms over his chest and took a seat. “Father says I need to get out more. He even convinced Hasain and Diddy to invite me to go riding with them this afternoon. I’m going to assume he also played a part in all of this too, right? Why else would you send for me?”

Marc flopped into the chair behind his desk. Pressing his palms onto the desk, he leaned across the table and met Joel’s rebellious stare without hesitation. “Why do
you
think you’ve been summoned here?”

Joel imagined he must look like a spoiled brat, sitting with his arms crossed and chin raised into the air. He let out a long sigh and hung his head. “You have some kind of job to offer me.”

Marc remained silent for some time, the only sound in the room the rhythmic strumming of the dean’s fingers on the desktop. Finally, he sat back in his chair and mimicked Joel by folding his own arms over his chest. “I know you’ve been grieving and I don’t fault you for it, but Joel, it’s been three moonturns. Life has to go on.”

The air became so thick Joel couldn’t even swallow. “Life doesn’t go on for everyone. It didn’t go on for Cenric.”

“You’re right. It didn’t.” Marc tilted his head, staring out the office window. “It’s tragic, what happened to Ambassador Leal, but that doesn’t mean your own life needs to come to a grinding halt. Is that what Cenric would have wanted? For you to wither away in solitude?” With a sigh, Marc shifted his gaze back to Joel. “Life is precious. If I’ve learned anything after all my years as a Healer, it’s that. Don’t waste this gift, Joel. Don’t waste the opportunity to live.”

Joel swallowed down the lump that had formed at the base of his throat. “The night of our escape—the night Cenric died—I told him I didn’t want to be an ambassador anymore. I had made it into this huge dream. I was going to help change the world and bring peace to Arden—but in the Northern Empire, I realized it wasn’t actually what I wanted. I wasn’t any good at politics and I missed home terribly. My plan fell through, and now I don’t know what I want to do.”

“You have the potential to do anything you put your mind to. Cenric saw that potential in you. Hell, we
all
see it.”

“Cenric said no matter what I went on to do, I would change the world.” Joel blinked away tears. “But I can’t see it. All I see is a failure. I’ve done nothing but ruin lives. If I’d chosen differently, Cenric might be alive. Gib wouldn’t hate me. Father wouldn’t have been injured—”

Marc raised both hands into the air. “Stop. Just stop. None of that is your fault, and you’re certainly
not
a failure.” Tense silence enveloped the room. Marc let out a huff and leaned forward in his chair, forcing Joel to meet his stare. “Besides, if you were as incompetent as you seem to think you are, I wouldn’t have summoned you here, asking for your help.”

Joel kept his mouth clamped shut, but his crystal eyes implored the dean for more.

Sighing, Marc pressed on. “I’m not sure if you’ve heard or not, but there’s a real shortage of mage trainers at Academy right now.”

“Father might have said something in passing.”

“Right, so—” Marc twiddled his thumbs. “How would you feel about teaching?”

Joel sat back in the chair. “
Me
? You can’t be serious. I’ve barely completed my own training.”

“Well, it would only be the first year students for now,” Marc insisted. “And you wouldn’t be teaching alone. Kirk Bhadrayu would be—”

Joel’s head shot up. “Kirk? What about him?”

A smile touched upon Marc’s face. “He’d be teaching with you. The two of you would be leading the first years together.”

“But Kirk’s a trainee.”

Marc issued an incredulous snort. “An
Imperial
trainee. Might as well be a senior mage by Arden’s standards. I don’t know what they’re teaching their gifted children in the Northern Empire, but Kirk’s knowledge and skill both exceed what we’re capable of here in Arden. With a little more time, I feel he’ll become an exceptionally powerful mage. And in the meantime, he’s agreed to share all he knows with our students and trained mages alike.”

“If he’s so powerful, why are you asking me to teach with him?
He
might be fully capable, but I’ve only
just
earned my title.”

“This is true,” Marc replied, nodding in agreement. “But Kirk is young, too. Not to mention, he’s foreign. He hardly knows anything about our culture or laws. He’ll need someone there to assist him. Who better to offer guidance than you?” The twinkle in Marc’s dark eyes couldn’t be ignored. “Besides, he asked for you by name. He wants you to help him teach the students.”

Joel blinked.
Kirk asked for me? Why?
His eyes wandered around the office as he mulled over all Marc had said.
I guess he doesn’t really know anyone else here. We made a connection in the Northern Empire. We’re acquaintances—maybe even friends
. Heat rose to bathe Joel’s cheeks, though he wasn’t sure why.
Yes, we’re friends
.

“What say you?” Marc asked. “You spoke about wanting to make a difference in the world. Well, you can. Right now. By doing this, you’ll help ensure Arden’s young mages are trained to their highest capabilities. We could really use your help, Joel.”

Joel had never really given thought to teaching. The idea of it hadn’t ever crossed his mind. Would he be any good at it? He had no life experience or great wisdom to offer these youngsters, and he surely wasn’t a striking image of success. He had no claim to fame, other than being son of the seneschal, and seemed only to stir up controversy wherever he went. Why would Marc ask this of someone so underqualified?

Cenric believed in me
, Joel reminded himself.
Maybe I just need to believe in me now, too
.

Newfound determination swelled in his chest as he raised his eyes to make contact with the dean. “All right,” Joel said. “I’ll do it.”
 

Joel had barely made it out the door when Kirk found him.

“Joel!” the young man called. His white mage robe fluttered around his boots as he hurried down the corridor.

Joel’s head was still spinning from the conversation he’d shared with Marc and the task to which he was now assigned, so the sight of the Imperial trainee caught him off guard. “H–hello.” Taking his hand off the door handle of the dean’s office, Joel moved forward, meeting the young trainee halfway down the hall.

As Kirk drew to a stop, he seemed to remember himself. His high cheekbones flushed with color as he gave a swift bow. “I, um, I was hoping to catch you here. Did you—did you speak with Dean Marc?” Kirk stared with hopeful eyes.

Joel inclined his head. “I did.”

“Did he ask you about—about—” Kirk stuttered over the question, and Joel could tell the young man was embarrassed for being so forthcoming a moment before.

“He did,” Joel replied cryptically.

Kirk waited with bated breath. “O–oh?”

A smile crept across Joel’s face as he finally elaborated. “And I decided to accept the teaching position. It looks as though we’re going to be partners.”

Kirk’s mouth jumped into an elated grin. “Oh, I’m so happy you’ve accepted! I have to admit, I was a little worried that you wouldn’t.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Joel grimaced. “I almost didn’t.”

Kirk nodded as though he understood. “How have you been? It feels like it’s been an eternity since we last spoke.”

“That’s my fault. I’ve been—moping.” Joel twisted his hands together as he glanced around the corridor, busying himself so he didn’t have to meet Kirk’s florescent eyes. “I’ve been avoiding everyone in my life. I hope you can forgive me.”

Kirk’s mouth fell open. “There’s nothing to forgive. Joel, you’ve been through a lot. I know that.”

“No,” Joel replied, shaking his head as he spoke. “That doesn’t excuse my behavior. I’ve been acting like a sullen brat for moonturns now. It’s high time I snap out of it.” Wrapping his arms around his shoulders, he pressed onto a lighter topic. “So, you really think we’re cut out for this mage training job?”

Kirk leaned against the corridor wall. “Between the two of us, I believe we can do it. Dean Marc can really use all the help he can get. Academy is very short on available mage trainers right now, and someone has to be here for the young ones just discovering their magical abilities.”

Joel sighed. “There’s a lack of available trainers because so many of Arden’s skilled mages are on active border duty. You can thank the High Council for that.”