Page 44 of Boundless
He chuckled, tossing her his nearly empty ration pouch. "Here, cranky p-pants. You at least won't s-starve, now."
She took the pouch and opened it, shoving most of its contents into her mouth with one large handful. "'M not cranky," she muttered around her mouthful. Why did he only find that adorable instead of disgusting?
The comfortably-sized central tent where Daega's family spent much of their time came into view, and Len's heart flew into his throat. Would they be furious with him for letting their daughter get hurt on his watch? Would they try to punish him, or the guards? Would the treaty be in jeopardy, now? Logically, he knew it likely wouldn't come to that, but he'd been unable to stop his mind from snagging and snarling on those worries over and over again in the long days of finishing this journey.
By the time they'd rolled to a stop he was soaked in sweat and lightly dizzy from his nerves, but Daega offered him a distraction in the form of once again being a terrible patient.
"Don't just w-walk on that leg, Dae!" he chided, pointing to her crutch. "Use it!"
She groaned, rolling her eyes—which he could now tell even though they were all black, he'd gotten so used to her face. "It feels fine, Len. I swear, Granny's going to declare me right as rain as soon as she sees me—"
"You’ve only been h-healing for aweek!" They'd had this same conversation several times, now. Daega seemed convinced that she only needed three days to fully heal two deep puncture wounds that had almost killed her.This woman, he thought irritably. "At l-least humor me until sh-she clears you."
She sighed, grabbing the crutch with her good arm and limping over to him. She could only use the one crutch, and awkwardly, as her injured arm was in a sling, but she managed it.
Gayeh came charging out of the large tent, a broad smile painted on her dark face, her head turning in search of her daughter.
“Over here, Mum!” Daega called, pausing in her limping to wave her arm.
Gayeh’s head whipped around, and she ran for the two of them in a distinctly un-queenly fashion. But then, he supposed she wasn’tactuallya queen. She was…more. Different. The clan’s mother, in a way. “What in the name of the gods happened to you, lass?” his mother-in-law cried, her hands flying to her paling face. “How did you get hurt?” She wrapped her daughter in a careful hug, kissing her cheeks and murmuring to her in Draka. He only caught a little, but he gathered Daega was telling her mother she’d fill her in later.
Gayeh released her oldest daughter and turned to him next. “Welcome home, son,” she told him in Draka, wrapping him up in an equally warm hug, complete with his own kisses. “I am so glad to see you aren’t hurt, too.”
Something unknotted in his chest at that. “Thank you, Mother,” he returned, hugging her back just as tightly. “I’m sorry that Daega has pain.” He winced at how poorly he still spoke the language, but Gayeh only smiled warmly and kissed him again before releasing him with a pat on the shoulder.
“I believe you are quite sorry,” she told him in Common. “I know well how stubborn and foolhardy my eldest is. You have the patience of the gods to not have torn all your lovely hair out by now.”
Daega scoffed, her dark cheeks flushing. “I have been amodelpatient!” she cried. “Tell her how well I’ve done, Len.”
Len’s face flushed hot, needing to press his lips into a hard line to keep from laughing. Daega clutched at her chest with a theatrical wince. “Betrayal?! Howcouldyou!”
He put his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. “Well, youd-didgive me quite a lot of grief about taking proper r-rest for your wounds…” he chided, earning him an indignant squawk.
A booming laugh alerted them to the arrival of Kevothaen, who swept them up in a bear hug that knocked the breath from Len’s lungs before the older Istariin man started fussing over Daega.
Len was flushed and flustered, but also unspeakably happy. He’d been so concerned that they’d blame him for what had happened, even just a little bit, and to have them instead greet him with this degree of warmth and enthusiasm…well, he didn’t quite know how to handle it. He’d never been welcomed like this in his entire life. All he could do was cling to Daega and let it all wash over him.
Kevothaen’s enormous hand on his shoulder pulled him from his emotional thoughts. “Nowthisis how I expect newlyweds to act,” he grinned. “Is the ruse on hold while you’re with us, then?”
“Y-yes, sir,” Len flushed, feeling just a little self-conscious about his arm around Daega.
“I told you, call me Da!” Kevothaen boomed, frowning at Len. “We’re family now, whether you like it or not.”
Len chuckled, ducking his head. “I’m sorry. I-I like very much that I am a part of your f-family. Father.”
Kevothaen beamed, pulling him into a one-armed hug. “You’re a good one, son.”
Then it was chaos, Tesse and Sercha stumbling from the big tent next to attack the two of them with flying-tackle-style hugs and talking over each other in a blend of Common and Draka he had no hope of following.
Eventually, Captain Rodrick cleared his throat, signaling that he wanted Lenlethael’s attention. “Pardon me for the interruption, my prince,” he said once he had Len’s focus. “But what would you like us to do, now? The carts have been emptied and the men are growing restless.”
Before Len could respond Kevothaen scoffed, interrupting. “You’ll be staying here to rest, of course!” he cried, looking askance at the much smaller elf captain. “We’re friends now, and that means you must suffer our hospitality.” He twisted, shouting for Tesse, who extracted herself from the welcoming fray with great reluctance. “Tesse, my love, can you show these fine men to the guest tents? I’m thinking the one by old Felda’s.”
“Aye, can do, Da.” Tesse’s eyes slid to Sevren’s face off to the side, her lips quirking up and her eyes filling with interest. Feeling eyes on him, Sevren turned, his pale freckled face flaming when Tesse winked at him before turning to lead the guards to their tents. Most were tense and shrunken in on themselves with nerves, wary of being surrounded on all sides by Istarii Drakan. But even the older of the guards, who would have seen active conflict with his wife’s people, weren’t hostile. Wary and nervous, but not bitter, not angry. And the Istariin people were just the same.
Realizing it warmed Len. It was the first time that the enormity of what had been done with the treaty and his marriage hit him, and it almost took his breath away. From his generation forward there would be people all over the nation of Istarii who would never know the pain of war—who wouldn’t have to see their friends and family wounded outside and in. Who wouldn’t have to witness the unfixable scars left behind by losing loved ones on a battlefield. They’d never know going without for the sake of making sure soldiers on the front lines had the barest of scraps to keep going—or because a supply chain had been tactically disrupted. Even at the castle, there’d been whispers of it. Tears pricked at his eyes as he watched his people and Daega’s walk away with mutual—if tense—trust.
“What’s got you bothered, dove?” Daega murmured at his side, her cheek resting on the top of his head, since her arms were occupied.
