Something With a Prince

Chapter Twenty-Four: The Damned and Delightful

Tallethea

The sun had risen and began to set on the fourth day of our journey. It was a day spent in silence after what Lansing had told me what happened in Slerian. There was so much to consider and to process that my tongue seemed dead in my mouth. I didn't know whether to applaud him or punch him in the nose for what he did in that castle. But every time I think that I am getting angry with him, I stop and ask myself what I would have done in his place. I would have killed her is always the answer and the fact that he left her breathing makes him a better person than I am.

After he had finished his tale, Lansing looked at me for a long time. It seemed as if he had something else on his mind. The night was dark, we could barely make out each other's shadows through the trees, but Lansing had a way of making you feel what he was feeling simply by being in his presence. I could make out some expressions from the occasional moonlight streaming through the treetops.

"What?" I had asked, "what is it?"

He took a breath, then said, "I just realized, we have similar jobs is all."

"How is that?"

"We're both body guards...for Arlyn. In a way."

I admit, I was confused at first by what he meant. But then it dawned on me, possibly for the first time, what it was Lansing did for his brother. What he sacrificed.

"Do you.... like your job?" I asked. "I mean, are you okay with it?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

Lansing took a breath and cleared his throat. "Most of the time I don't mind it. Don't think about it. I'm practically retired anyway, so I just let the stories write themselves."

Retired. At twenty years old. How early did this start?

I thought back to what I had said at the beginning of this journey, about his making up stories and his reputation,  and a nasty feeling dropped in my stomach.  The sensation made me want to apologize, to talk about it further with him and really understand. However, his energy had shifted into a closed off silence. I left it alone.  He had finished telling the story and I could feel the words as if he had said them. The end.

Lansing then told me he wished he had taken the deal. That he wanted to go back and take it now. He said this with such sincerity and somberness, it ripped at my stomach. A foreign sensation to me at the time, but not wholly unwelcome. The ripping put me in a position to ease up on the hostility for once, without looking too soft. As little sense as that might make, it made perfect sense to me. The threat of friendship was in the air, and I was not going to be daunted by it. So, naturally I told him I would kill him if he tried anything. Then continued by saying pertly that he allowed more than most people would have and did as much as anyone might have done. This only earned me a confused and somewhat angry look from the prince. His eyes dropped away from me and down to his horse's neck. A muscle twisted at the back of his jaw as he swallowed down what I suspected had been a lump of words.

Then, surprising us both, my hand reached out on its own accord. Before I knew it, I had touched his forearm, gently tugged at it, and stopped him. Our eyes met and the words came with a new feeling. This time it was a pressure in my chest.

"What I'm trying to say is...You're not a bad person, Lansing."

He had furrowed his eyebrows at me then. As if he were waiting for a punchline or insult. I could not be stung by it. Insult was usually the aftershock of my compassion. However, when it did not come, Lansing looked me up and down and gave a single nod. He pulled his arm from my hand, and I felt accomplished in cheering him up at least a little bit.