Warrior, Renewed: Book Two of the Comhairle Chronicles

Chapter Eighteen: The World Keeps Turning

“You fight well. You can tell your brother to stop taunting you now because you’re a class one as well.”

Tor had bordered on unbearable at breakfast, yet Tanc felt grateful for it. He’d challenged Eallair enough to bypass self-doubt and self-consciousness, to ensure he threw himself into proving himself. He suspected the pair of them had always been that way; knowing when to support and when to challenge. If Tor hadn’t been best suited to working with Deòthas, he might have considered putting him and Eallair together, but even the deepest friendship couldn’t compete with the affinity that came from the mate bond. Tor and Deòthas fought together in a way few could understand. In a way he hadn’t understood either, not until Haze, when he’d felt so completely in sync with the trainee. He probably should’ve realised the truth then.

“If only I could be useful that might mean something,” Eallair sighed.

“We’ll figure it out. You said at breakfast that the auras in the great hall almost gave an impression of the tables and chairs,” he reminded him. “It might be enough.”

His mate gave a derisive snort. “Yeah, if I take the whole castle with me everywhere I go, I might manage to use the rest of the Comhairle as a torch.”

Eallair flinched at his own harsh sarcasm, though, and added, “It’s true that the auras cast reflections on other surfaces and that gives me a few hazy edges, but only if people are close to furniture or walls. It’s not enough to be useful. It only gave me enough to see by at breakfast because there were so many people there, and ghaisgich glow brighter than others. It’s not going to help me if I ever find myself alone in an alley surrounded by marionettes. Puppets aren’t alive; I’ve never seen an aura around one of them.”

Pulling his mate close, Tanc pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “You said the reflections are clearer today than they were yesterday. Perhaps they’ll be clearer again tomorrow. Your body is going to keep getting stronger for the rest of the week, maybe your eyes will too. No, it won’t be like they were before or it wouldn’t be a sacrifice, but it might be a different way of seeing.”

Even he knew he clutched at straws but it was all he had. He wanted to hope. Funny, that... He’d lost all hope for himself years ago, but for Eallair, he wanted optimism. He wanted to feel sure that his mate would be alright.

Eallair’s expression softened a little and he leaned in, pressing another tender kiss to his lips. “If we can ensure you feel that determined over your own life as well as mine, we might be getting somewhere.”

Hiding a flinch seemed pointless considering his mate likely saw it in his aura anyway.

 “I think that’s how this is supposed to work. I’m supposed to want the world for you even if I can’t want it for myself... But I want more than I did week ago. You’ve given me something to want.”

His mate kissed him again and it felt perfectly natural to press close together; to crave contact. For centuries, he’d avoided any such interaction; hating even accidental touches. Yet with Eallair, he craved every caress, every brush of fingertips against skin, or the scrape of fangs over flesh. He had a captain’s meeting to get to, though.

“You’re spending some time with Tor, right? While I’m trying to figure out our next move with Ambustus?”

Nodding, his mate agreed, “Yes. He’s taking over your ‘keep Eallair from falling down a flight of stairs’ duties. I’m meeting him in the entrance hall and we’re going to... I don’t know... It's not like we can watch TV or play cards. Play a hundred rounds of rock paper scissors maybe, at least I can see his aura for that.”

“Whatever you do, Tor’s your brother and he just wants to spend time with you. Then I’ll see you once I’m done. You should probably phone your mother too. Tell her about the trials... and about your eyes,” he advised, knowing the longer Eallair left it, the harder it would become.