What Matters Most (7 page)

"Who?" Kyros asked, following Raslin's gaze. He was watching a woman dressed in a heavy cloak against the cold.

Her hood was up, obscuring her face, but she waved at them.

Kyros waved back, to be friendly, but Raslin didn't move a muscle.

"Gira, for one," Raslin said, gesturing towards the woman.

He didn't sound particularly thrilled by that suggestion, but then, he hadn't waved at her, either. "She's been pining after you ever since you left."

"Gira?" Kyros repeated, drawing a blank. Raslin laughed, shaking his head. He looked pleased that Kyros didn't remember who she was.

"Gira Decori? Theri and Hallin's daughter?" Raslin prompted, and Kyros furrowed his brow in thought.

"Wasn't she ten when I left?" Kyros asked, because the woman they'd passed most certainly hadn't looked fifteen. "She was the one who followed us around, right? The one we told to meet us by the pond like, six times before she realized we were never going to meet her there?"

"She was thirteen," Raslin said, laughing again as Kyros guided the cart to a stop in the middle of the square, near a snow-covered pile of wood. "And yes, that's her."

"Is she any less annoying now?" Kyros asked, looping the reins around a hook in the back of the baseboard of the cart.

"Only more. She's looking for a husband, but won't take any of the village boys," Raslin said, rolling his eyes.

"Ugh," Kyros said. He grimaced and made a note to avoid Gira as much as possible. "One of them would do her better than I would."

"Tell her that," Raslin said, and Kyros shook his head.

"I'd rather keep my distance, thank you," Kyros said, heading around to the back of the cart. Raslin followed suit, and Kyros clambered up into the cart to hand the wood down to Raslin. Kyros noted a few people wander through the clearing as they worked, obviously out on errands of their own. Thankfully, aside from a greeting here and there, he and Raslin were left alone to work.

It took a quarter as long to unload the cart as it had to load it, and then they were headed back to the forest, much to Kyros' chagrin. The snow kept falling steadily, and Kyros hoped like hell they would be able to get all the wood back to the village before the path became too snow-covered for the cart or his horse to handle.

"About time," MacRaflin greeted, leaning on his axe comfortably. He'd chopped a good deal more off the fallen tree while they'd been gone, Kyros noted, but he didn't seem at all tired.

"Raslin wouldn't stop chattering," Kyros said cheerfully.

"Slowed us down."

MacRaflin let out a loud guffaw. "Is that so?"

"Kyros wants to take a turn at chopping," Raslin said, and patted Kyros on the back firmly enough that Kyros had to take a quick step forward to keep his balance. "I'll get started loading this."

"Thanks," Kyros said dryly, but he didn't try to get out of it.

Picking up the second axe, he approached the tree trunk, following MacRaflin's directions on where to chop to keep from getting in MacRaflin's way. It was tiring work, but almost fun when he got into the rhythm of swinging the axe. Raslin kept smirking at him as he hauled wood to the cart, and Kyros took great pains to wish him splinters in creative ways. MacRaflin mostly ignored them, occasionally guffawing at one or another of Kyros' splinter curses.

It was growing dark outside by the time they filled the cart a fourth time; Kyros' arms and legs were numb and he was pretty sure he'd sprained every muscle in his back. He was also ready to fall over and sleep for a week, but the ache felt good. Raslin seemed to be fine, annoyingly enough, but Kyros conceded that Raslin was far more used to hard labor than Kyros, no matter how Kyros liked to pretend he was still a village boy.

MacRaflin helped them unload the cart, then shooed them off, promising to take good care of Kyros' horse. Kyros was more than willing to let MacRaflin take care of the horse and cart so he could go collapse. Eat, and then collapse, because he was hungry enough to eat the entire pot of soup he knew was waiting for them.

Raslin fell into step beside him, their jackets slung together over his arm. The snow was still falling around them, and there was no one outside. It was comfortable and easy, and Kyros fought a surge of homesickness. He was home, even if it was for the last time, even if he wasn't going to see Raslin again. Kyros couldn't ask Raslin to join him; Raslin had made it clear that he thought Kyros was stupid for going back.

He could ask Raslin to go with his mother, but that would be tearing Raslin away from his sister and any children she might have, and for what? To be there for Kyros' mother when she heard that he'd been caught and executed? It wasn't as though Kyros thought he'd have the chance to visit Ailynn after she'd settled on the coast. Kyros sighed quietly, then glanced at Raslin, only to find Raslin was watching him.

"You all right?" Raslin asked quietly, stopping a few feet from Ailynn's house.

"I'm tired," Kyros admitted, more seriously than he'd meant to say it. He was tired, more than the physical work of the afternoon really accounted for. "Raslin."

"Yeah?" Raslin asked. Kyros stared at him, wondering when Raslin had gotten so close; there was barely a foot of space between them.

"Can I ask you to do something for me?" Kyros asked, keeping his voice low despite that there was no one around to hear them.

"Ask away," Raslin said, his quick smile showing off his dimples briefly.

"I need you to take care of my mother if anything happens,"

Kyros said, wishing he didn't have to say it. Between the snow and Ailynn's insistence that she stay an extra week in Ourenville, however, the possibility was too strong that the council's men would catch up to him here, before he was able to get Ailynn to safety.

"That was never in question," Raslin said, glancing briefly towards the house. "Ailynn is like a mother to me, Kyr. I wouldn't let anything happen to her."

"Thank you," Kyros said quietly. His heart picked up its pace as he stared up at Raslin, stupidly wondering if that meant Raslin thought of him as a brother.

"I'd do the same for you," Raslin said quietly, reaching out and running the side of his thumb over Kyros' cheek in a light caress. "All you have to do is ask."

Kyros swallowed hard, managing a nod. Raslin smiled sadly, then abruptly reached up and brushed the snow that had settled on his head towards Kyros, grinning when Kyros stumbled back a step in surprise. "Come on, Ailynn will have dinner for us."

"Right," Kyros said. He shook the snow from his hair, firmly biting back the words to ask Raslin to look after him, too. He couldn't ask that of Raslin. Kyros had gotten himself into this mess, and he'd get himself out, no matter how much he wanted to lean on someone else.

Raslin kept thinking he was dreaming, every morning he woke up with Kyros in his bed. It was a pleasant fantasy, believing for a few moments that Kyros had come home because he'd found he couldn't live without Raslin in his life.

Unfortunately, their friendship had never been more than that, and it only took a moment for Raslin to give up on even pretending otherwise and climb from bed, leaving Kyros to sleep in.

Kyros usually slept until midway through the morning, though he kept insisting that Raslin should wake him when he rose. Raslin snorted softly as he crossed the loft, his head ducked to keep from bashing it on the rafters. There was no need for Kyros to be dragged out of bed before the crack of dawn. He'd just insist on helping around the village and house, and there was no need for him to do that, either.

He needed to rest. Kyros seemed to think they couldn't see the dark circles under Kyros' eyes or the way his clothes were loose, like he'd lost a great deal of weight recently. That Kyros was all muscle and bone only lent to the impression that he'd been running himself ragged for quite some time.

Raslin wondered cynically if the council Kyros was fighting would be the death of him, or if Kyros would take care of that himself. Taking a pair of thick socks from the bureau, Raslin pulled them on one at a time, debating for the hundredth time whether he should outright offer to go with Kyros, since he doubted Kyros would ask. He'd probably just get in the way …

but with Ailynn leaving, and Kyros gone—forever, this time, Kyros had been clear about that—what did Raslin have left in Ourenville?

His sister, Raslin thought. Technically, he'd be leaving her, and Raslin felt terrible that he didn't feel guilty at the thought of leaving Nikla behind. They'd grown apart, really; Nikla had moved on after their parents had died. She rarely bothered to do more than say hello, unless she wanted him to come help her and Angelos fix something around their house. Sighing, Raslin ran a hand through his hair, making a note to have Ailynn trim it before she left.

She wasn't happy about leaving, Raslin knew, but she was putting a good face on it. Raslin would miss her, almost as much as he had missed Kyros. It was stupid to want to throw away everything to follow a man he hadn't seen for five years.

Especially since, by all rights, Kyros and Ailynn were leaving him sitting pretty. Ailynn wouldn't be returning, which meant the house would be his. It was a nicer house than the one he'd let Nikla take over, but that was poor consolation.

Turning, Raslin stopped in surprised. Kyros was sitting up, looking like he'd love nothing more than to go back to sleep.

"Good morning," Raslin said, expecting and receiving nothing more than a grunt of acknowledgment. Kyros stumbled to his feet, and Raslin headed for the loft ladder, meaning to get out of Kyros' way and maybe make an escape before Kyros could invite himself along on the day's tasks.

"Wait," Kyros said, the word hoarse with sleep. Raslin turned back towards him expectantly, but Kyros only waved at him. "Give me a minute. I'll meet you downstairs."

"You don't have to get up now," Raslin said, well aware that it was a futile exercise to try to keep Kyros in bed. He hadn't stayed the last few days when Raslin had tried to get him to sleep longer.

Kyros cleared his throat, looking marginally more awake as he pushed the hair from his face. "I need to give you something."

"What?" Raslin asked, curious but wary.

"It's … it requires explanation," Kyros said, yawning widely.

"All right," Raslin said, wondering what in the world Kyros was giving to him. Nothing good, he thought as he climbed down from the loft. Probably something for safekeeping, since his travels had been delayed. Unfortunately, while the snow had tapered off, it was still falling, and the storm looked to be gathering more snow to dump on them.

The snow was great from the village's standpoint— everyone loved snow for Solstice. It was yet another sign that winter was truly there. However, it was terrible for Kyros and his compatriots who were travelling to take Ailynn to her new home. Unfortunately, Raslin doubted—though he hoped—the snow would deter the men who were after Kyros. Travel was likely only difficult around Ourenville; they'd be able to get close before the snow hindered them.

"Did I hear Kyros up and about?" Ailynn asked, already setting a bowl of porridge out for him. It was accompanied by a thick slice of bread and a cup of ale.

"I don't think he'll be up for long," Raslin said, the half-truth rolling off his tongue easily. Kyros would stall if he knew Ailynn was around to fret over him, but Raslin doubted he'd be convinced to return to bed. "Though he might try."

"Hmm," Ailynn said, casting the loft a quelling look. "We'll see. I'll hang around for a while, then."

"I can handle feeding him, if you want to get down to Hally's," Raslin offered, knowing Ailynn had plans to spend most of the day baking with her cousin.

Ailynn considered for a moment, and then nodded. "She'll be expecting me, and I'd rather not start the day on a bad note.

Give Kyros my love."

Raslin nodded and sat down at the table. Ailynn bustled around, packing up a satchel with a few dishes and some ingredients. When she left, Raslin could see a glimpse of more snow falling outside.

Kyros stumbled down from the loft a few moments later, not looking much more awake than he had when Raslin had left him previously. He wandered over to the kitchen, looking around as though he was missing something.

"Where's my mother?" Kyros asked finally. He sounded more awake, at least.

"She went down to Hally's to do some baking and spend some time with her," Raslin said, finishing off the rest of the porridge in his bowl. "You want breakfast?"

"No, it'll keep," Kyros said, yawning. Raslin hoped he did go back to bed when he was finished with whatever he wanted to give Raslin. Kyros set a small wooden box on the table. It was square, about the size of Raslin's bowl, and as Kyros moved the box, Raslin could see each side was carved. The carvings were faces mostly, though one side—the front, perhaps—was carved instead with an intricate pattern that didn't seem to paint a picture.

"What is it?" Raslin asked. Kyros slid the box towards him across the table top. It rattled when Raslin picked it up, and he frowned at it. It was hollow inside, but there was no obvious latch.

"It's a puzzle box," Kyros said, pushing a lock of his ash blond hair from his face. He scooted his chair closer, his knee accidentally knocking against Raslin's under the table. Kyros paid it no mind, though. "As you probably guessed, it's got a compartment inside."

"How do you open it?" Raslin asked, trying to ignore Kyros'

proximity and the way it made him too aware of Kyros' every slight movement. There was barely a foot of space between them, though the corner of the table gave the illusion that they were further apart than that.

"There are a series of catches you have to press at the same time," Kyros said, looking up and meeting Raslin's eyes. Kyros'

expression was solemn, and Raslin fought a shiver at the intensity in Kyros' gaze. "I'll walk you through it."

Raslin turned it over in his hands. He spotted one of the catches immediately; one of the faces' noses was more prominent than the rest, and pressing it made the box click.