Guessing Game

Cendreile and Akherien had made a habit of these evening conversations on the rooftop. It had been their little secret from the two nobles for almost three years now—where they could speak of the particulars of servitude that the other two would never understand: gripes about their lessons, fears of falling short, affirmations.

But today, they were not discussing anything of that sort. It seemed Akherien had a problem: they were both headed to Maen-orin to accompany Katreia on her inspection trip.

“And I'm—nervous about it,” Akherien said, pacing back and forth. “It's not that I don't want to go. I really do. It's just that…”

This was the third time he had stopped short of uttering the truth. Cendreile watched his expression shift through trepidation, hope, and terror.

“What's the matter?” she asked.

He wrung his hands together. “I can't say it. I want to, but I can't.”

“That is alright. We could make this a guessing game?”

“May as well be.”

Cendreile nodded, tapping her chin in thought. This was not a straightforward worry, not about an external danger. If it were, he wouldn't be scared to even name it.

“Well…let's start with this. Are your worries related to the people we'll be travelling with?”

He looked startled. Then, reluctantly, he nodded.

“Oh. Are you nervous about travelling from Dei-orin with the queen?”

He shook his head. “I mean, I am,” he muttered, “but I always am, around the King and Queen.”

She thought over these words. He was an anxious person—they had that in common. The problem had to be something he thought discussing with her could help with, yet even now, he was struggling to spit it out—so her knowing must hold high stakes, at least in his mind. And that meant…

Cendreile frowned. “I hardly know how, but is something the matter between you and one of our friends?”

He exhaled. “I forgot how good you are at this.”

“Mm.” She mentally revisited Akherien's interactions with Katreia and Sariell. He hadn’t seemed to be fighting with any of them—they had been talking quite merrily just yesterday. Sariell was too pleasant to have caused anything but the most fleeting of friction; chances were much higher that he and Katreia had had something come between them.

“Have you talked to her about it?”

He shook his head. “And you can't tell her.”

This strange characterisation made her pause. “Hm. Is there a reason for that? There’s no way she wouldn't try to make it right.”

At this, his shoulders sagged. “I can't. If I did—” he shuddered— “she might sever ties with me.”

“But you're one of her best friends. Maybe even her best friend…”

“If not her then her mother.”

As he spoke these words, he drew his arms close around himself. And suddenly she could not mistake it—the complex agony tangled with threads of joy. And she realised she had seen that look before, as Katreia had raced away down the stairs, or up the hall, and Akherien had watched her go.

“Oh…you poor thing.”

Akherien's eyes met hers again, pleading.

Cendreile had always held in the back of her mind that these two shared a rare kind of compatibility, a rapport so natural that it almost seemed the gods had created them to meet. But she had reserved those thoughts to the belief they were much better friends with each other than she would ever be with either.

Now, she saw that she hadn't been the only one to recognise it. He must have, too. And of course, to have seen with his own eyes a person who matched himself so completely, why wouldn't he have fallen for her?

Cendreile tentatively reached out to pat the back of his hand. “Are you all right with this? Not telling her and continuing to be her friend until she gets married?”

“I feel lucky even to be that,” he replied earnestly. “I have never hoped for anything more. And like she said…she's not allowed. So I can't tell her. It would just hurt us both.”

“And when she leaves for Kerade? There's only four years left.”

His did not react, except to wrap his arms around himself. “Then she will go. And I will stay here. It’s what has to happen.”

Cendreile felt her heart ache. Katreia had been betrothed since before they had met. She had always found the notion a little sad, knowing the princess lived every day in Cedan with her departure always on the edge of her periphery.

But looking into Akherien’s eyes, the tragedy of it all became cuttingly real. He loved her enough to let her go—and she would never find out.

He drew a long, deep breath through his lips. “It's just, when she stands right beside me, and she doesn't know I'm looking…I almost can't hide it. And now we're going to be seeing each other every day for a week.” She watched as he buried his face in his hands, and she worried he was about to cry, but he only groaned and muttered, “Why did this have to happen?”

“Your heart will do as it will,” she said. “You cannot decide what it feels. And it's not your fault she's such a good match for you.”

“You think so?” Now he began shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Of course I do. I wish I had a bond with someone as close as yours is to each other. And it's probably best to assume the kingdom's affairs won't halt for you, but that doesn't mean your feelings can't exist, or aren't telling you something valuable! They're there because you do give each other something no one else in your lives does.”

They were silent for a minute as those words sank in for them both. Then Akherien said, “But I still can't tell her. That's the right thing to do.”

He always said that—that he had done something because it was the right thing, never because he had wanted to. “That doesn't mean you can't speak of it at all.”

At this, he paused, then sighed deeply. “I don't know what to do with myself. I'm always waiting for the next time I see her. She saved my life all those years ago. Did I ever tell you that story?” A smile played on his lips. “She dragged me out of the house I burned down, all on her own. And then she asked her mother if I could become a mage at the castle. She saw something in me that no one else ever had, and I…” He looked away. “I just want her to feel like saving my life was worth it. I want her to be proud of me.”

There was a new, raw ache in his voice that had not been there earlier. He held his breath, gaze growing foggy.

Cendreile reached out to take his hand and squeezed it. “I think she is. And more than that. Maybe she doesn't feel the exact same way you do. But I have seen how her face lights up when someone compliments you in your absence. She makes no secret of it. It's quite sweet, really.”

His face visibly flushed, and his eyes were suddenly very preoccupied with his hands. “I…I didn't know that.”

At this, Cendreile smiled. “I hope you know people like you a whole lot more than you realise.”

To this, Akherien managed a sheepish laugh, and Cendreile was relieved to see a smile return to his face. “I knew you'd be the right person to tell,” he said.