53. Paris

One more night's sleep, and we'd be back with the Hawk Clan.

I found I was eager to get there, to check on Owen and Brandon and Esmerelda, to have a fresh, warm loaf of bread that Rosaline had made. Moreover, I was eager to start something new.

Admittedly, I wasn't sure what that was. I'd read plenty of diplomatic treatises in the past, but I was beginning to think that wasn't really a skill of mine. After all, I hadn't secured an agreement between Nemeda and Urial, and right then, I'd have sooner chewed my arm off than be responsible for one moment of King Albany's happiness.

Maybe I could find some way to turn those long hours studying to use for the Hawk Clan, or maybe I would find something else to offer, but—well, for the first time in my life, that felt important. I had options beyond being seen leading a life of leisure, my hands clean and nails well-kept, never a speck of dirt on my clothes.

That was important for a lord in Urial—the idea that we were beyond toiling. It left too many of us with nothing to do, but even those who worked hard, like Hector, who had trained a little in all the gentleman's pursuits that Urial had to offer, were meant to oversee labor, not execute it.

I wasn't sure that I would ever be the sort of man who wanted to carry heavy trunks up stairs, but Brett didn't seem to mind, and if there was something else I could do? Well, that could be fulfilling in a way I'd never imagined before.

The nice thing was, I thought the Nemedans—my people—would afford me time to figure it out, to try different things and find what suited me.

There'd be no shame in trying something and moving on.

Truth told, I was no fan of setting up camps either. Brett and Killian did most of the work of arranging tents for us to sleep in, making them reasonably comfortable, stoking the fire. Still, Helena was eager to see how tents worked at all, inspired by the idea of homes you could carry with you in a pack and set up anywhere. There was a curiosity, an excitement in the way that she followed Brett and Killian around, asking a dozen questions for each task they completed. They took it in good humor and were happy to explain.

And that left me free to bring Hector water. He was the only one not helping, and it seemed to strain him to watch the others, so I sat beside him. Let no one say I was unable to indulge my own laziness when the situation called for it.

With a frown, Hector sipped from the cup of water and scowled across the fire. The tent was set up, Killian preparing food provided by the Vulture clan for the rest of our journey, and Brett was teaching Helena how to fight.

All of it made the sag in Hector's shoulders more profound.

I bumped my knee against his. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Hector replied, tone bland and expression shuttering. Though I'd hoped to distract him from the annoyance of rest, I didn't like the way he withdrew much either.

"Really? Because I'm not sure I am," I said, grinning.

I only meant to tease him and point out how absolutely absurd it would be for any of us to actually be fine.

Truthfully, I... was. I was all right, in that I had an idea of what came next and how good it could be. But that didn't mean I'd forgotten that we were fleeing from a court we'd lived in all our lives.

"And," I went on, watching him, "I'm not recovering from a recent poisoning."

Hector's brow furrowed. "You want the truth?"

I realized then, with all the turmoil that began to swim in his eyes and the new tic in his jaw, that this might be the very first time that my brother told me how what he really felt, entirely unfiltered, even if it was painful. And as much as that frightened me, I owed it to him to listen.

"I would prefer it," I whispered, afraid that if I spoke aloud my voice would catch and falter, "if you don't mind sharing."

Hector sighed through his nose without looking at me. "I am exhausted," he admitted. That was hardly surprising, given that he'd been bedridden only days ago, then shoved into a carriage for a week-long escape.

But I didn't think that was what he meant. It seemed like more than just the past few days, even the past few months, was dragging him down.

"Empty," he continued, "in a way that I've never felt before. For the first time in my life, I don't know what to do, beyond get out of the way for someone else to act."

His eyes flashed as he stared into the fire. Hector was angry, and as much as I wanted to understand it, I couldn't. I didn't think it was that he was angry at King Albany, which would've been all too understandable, but at himself. At the circumstance we'd found ourselves in. At?—

Was he angry at me for dragging us along this path?

"It's all right, for you to let us take care of you once in a while," I said. When I reached for his hand, he didn't turn his over to take it back.

"And I am heartbroken," he said, ignoring me entirely, like he couldn't even acknowledge the idea that he might need the same care and comfort that the rest of us did. My heart ached for the stiffness in his whole body. "By every metric I've ever set for myself, I have failed. Three months since Father died, and in that time, I have lost everything that he built for us. Every piece of it but the damned carriage and what we could fit in a couple picnic baskets."

"Hector—" All I wanted to do was tell him that he hadn't, that he'd never failed us, that even coming with us now was the opposite of failing.

He shook his head, his eyelids fluttering briefly before he mastered himself and looked at me. Finally, he turned his hand over and gripped mine.

"But I am so proud of you," he whispered ardently, punctuating the words with a tight squeeze. "You have carved a path where I didn't believe there was one to be made. You've seen Helena safe, seen me safe, made allies worth having and turned your back on those who weren't. None of those things are easy." He reached out, brushing his fingers along the long golden feather behind my ear. "I'm in awe of you."

I flinched, looking away. That?—

It was a lovely sentiment, and it wasn't what I wanted, because it sounded as if Hector was justifying that I didn't need him, which was utterly untrue.

"I just got lucky when I stumbled."

When Hector only hummed, I glanced at him from the corner of my eyes to find him staring across the fire again, to where Brett was showing Helena the proper way to hold a knife, what to do with it to defend herself.

In time, Hector shrugged. "That might be part of it," he admitted, "but that's not all."

I stared at Brett, and he must've felt the attention, because he looked at me, and a small smile formed on his lips. My heart skipped in my chest.

I'd spent a long time, distrusting myself because I thought what I'd felt for Tybalt to be true. It'd certainly been consuming.

But this? It was warm and soft and comfortable, and still, there was a deeper heat that rushed through me when Brett's gaze lingered a second too long.

It wasn't the same as the love I'd grown used to, but if I opened myself up, it might be even better.