The Gathering of the Hunt

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

A few negative self talk phrases and suicide ideation is talked about in this chapter. Just be careful if this is triggering :)

Somehow, Talen found himself back in the map room, pinching the bridge of his nose and doing his damn best to ward off the headache that was already appearing in his temples. He’d always thought that his older brother was an idiot, and now he had all the confirmation he needed, because only an idiot of massive proportions would invite the person that caused the madness back.
   
He was fully prepared to leave, hell, he had one foot out the door before he was dragged back in by the ear by Anlai who seemed to want even more chaos in his life.

Nualan was droning on, a constant noise in the background that was past grating on his nerves. His eyes flickered towards the exit, noting the way that Anlai had placed himself between him and the way out. A smirk crossed his brother’s lips and he moved himself so he was situated directly in his path of freedom. Sighing deeply, he nestled himself back into the narrow crevice in the wall, resigned to his fate.

The door opened, forcing Anlai to scramble out of the way unless he wanted to be trampled by Aillard.

A new found hope flared in his heart. If the Truthteller himself had deigned to be involved in such trivial political matters, surely he would get his leave.

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” Aesira said softly, fiddling with the hem of the tunic that was way too big on her, “he’s just here to tell him the weather is too dangerous and the sailors refuse to set off."

Talen frowned, not having not noticed her slipping through the door behind Aillard.

He also hadn’t noticed the rain, but for it to prevent their leave, it had to be quite bad. “You stuck in here with me now?”

“I assume so,” she said finally, watching Aillard settle himself in a chair at the head of the table. The tension in the room further thickened, Nualan finally shutting himself mouth. Gods above, it had taken him long enough.

“Want to bet that he completely destroys the egos of all men present in this room within five minutes?”

An answering chuckle was Aesira's only response. There was a sinking feeling in his chest but, well, at least she was willingly standing by him.

“I can see all your opinions,” Aillard said finally, oblivious—or perhaps all too aware of the conflict brewing in the room, “but what about you, Talen? Why do you hide yours?”

A spark of surprise filled his chest. He hadn't even realised it was possible to hide things from a Truthteller. He wasn't mad. It could be useful, but the dark part of him was questioning if something else was beginning to break.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I stand by what I said yesterday,” he responded with finality.

“And what about the potential to gain new recruits?”

“At the moment, we can go without. People here can be replaced eventually, but for now, we have time.”

Aillard inclined his head in acknowledgment.

Finally, Nualan could take no longer of the silence that had encompassed the room. “Well, what do you think?” he demanded, rising so that he loomed above those seated around the table.

Something akin to humour crossed Aillard's face, fingertips gently ghosting over the top of the table, tracing patterns unseen to anyone but those with the gift of Telling. “I don’t know about you, but I think a lot of things. That the sky isn't really blue and colour is a hoax." He grinned nonchalantly. "Rain is annoying. This table is too old. It’s pathetic that you use a nineteen year old’s opinion to shape your own.”