A Wolf of Ice and Iron [OLD]

Chapter 24

Adras

I think Tarmae had a boyfriend once. Or perhaps he still does. I never met him properly, but I saw Tarmae sending letters frequently. Coming back from trips into town happier, lighter, skipping through the house. He attracted many women, and they never made him act like that.

A boy showed up at our house once. I remember it clearly. I was alone, I was fifteen, and he was looking for my eldest brother. He seemed nervous as he handed me a folded letter to give to Tarmae, a letter I did not read, only gave to him and forgot about.

The boy before me was more of a youngster than a man to fit Tarmae's standards. He had a freckled face and freckled hands and arms, freckles everywhere, more than I could count. His hair was a shocking shade of orange-red, and his eyes were a pale stormy grey. A beautiful colour I found myself lost in, curious of, wanting. I hadn't seen anyone with such grey eyes before.

He was nervous as he passed me the note. Jumpy and a little unsure. But he was kind, and I offered to make him tea, because I was always taught to be nice to strangers. And he was grateful but declined, and he left.

But it wasn't the last time I saw him.

Tarmae met him in our front garden often. When mother and our siblings were asleep, when nighttime brought me to the front of the house and to my windows to gaze at stars. Tarmae met him in the garden, and they strolled through the roses and talked in hushed whispers.

I tried my best not to watch them too much. To not invade their privacy. But I suppose a curious teenager can never be truly trusted to not poke their noses into business that isn't theirs.

I saw them kiss multiple times. I saw them hold hands and cuddle in moonlight. I saw them laugh about things, I saw them argue. I saw him slowly stop visiting, I saw Tarmae slowly grow cold and grey and harsh. I saw him collect those letters and burn them in the fireplace, I saw him cry, I saw him say terrible words about himself. I saw him blame himself for so many things.

But we had grown apart, then. And it wasn't my place to comfort him.

Now, I think I would have. I would have helped him even if he didn't want it, I would have soothed him as best I could. I didn't want him to hurt, I didn't want him to cry, I didn't want him to blame himself for things so clearly not worth the blame.

Tarmae was a good brother once, and I remember when we used to play games. And I think, if he tried hard enough, he could be a good brother again.

|~~~|

"Gotcha." Morel swings his bishop to attack my king, knocking it off the side of the chessboard. He grins radiantly, triumphant.

"That's the fourth time you've won!" I sputter in pathetic protest, collecting my black pieces. "How are you so good at this?"

"A brother that plays chess and a lot of time on my hands," Morel replies with a smirk. "We can play again, if you'd like?" He looks hopeful. He just wants to win again.

I wave a hand, a gesture of 'why not?' And help him pack the pieces onto the board again. He's white, I'm black. The ivory and wooden pieces are gentle under my fingers, soft and pleasant. It's Winter's board.

"Why doesn't he use it?" I ask Morel as we move around pieces. I am concentrated, my brows furrowed, but he seems nonchalant as he rests his head in his hand.

"Winter never liked playing chess," Morel responds as he moves some more pieces. "His father gave him this board. He just never got around to using it. So it sits around in the library, waiting to be used."

I nod and move another piece. He targets it instantly and knocks it over. I move another, and he's prepared.

I throw my hands up in defeat. "Ok, never mind. I am not getting my ass whooped a second time."

Morel seems startled by my language, then laughs. "Ok, ok." He sets up the pieces again and wipes off his hands on his trousers. The board is old and unused, and with that comes an unholy amount of dust.

I stand and stretch. We've been at it for a good two hours, but other than that, I feel well rested. I slept for a long time last night. It was particularly cold yesterday, and night was no different. I had to cuddle two pillows.

Morel smiles at me. "So. Now that it's faerie holidays, I can spend some time in the garden." He hums and skips across the marble steps to the hallway, and then outside.

He leans against a marble pillar, the frost costing it flaking off as his fingers brush it. It's chillingly cold. "I thought faeries had holiday festivals?" I ask. Won't he be going?

Morel shrugs. "When you're centuries old, it gets a little... bland." He says, smiling at me. His crooked grin, his wide smile that reaches his eyes and not just his mouth. It extends to every facial feature. "And besides, I have work to do in the gardens with my brother."

"Your... brother?" I ask, tilting my head. I didn't know he had a brother.

"Yes." Morel sighs, rolling his eyes dramatically. "He's... a handful, to say the least. Since it's just the two of us. He should be here soon, actually." He walks into the garden, down the steps and onto the frosty ground. It prickles under his boots.

Sure enough, I can barely put a word in before someone else appears from behind a rose bush. It happens so fast I shriek and jump about three feet into the air.

This newcomer is all dark and pale. Porcelain skin and dark eyes, black and harsh. Black hair that is tousled above his head, as if it hasn't been brushed. Wearing black and sporting a muscled but thin, almost fragile, frame. Someone who gives me chills down my spine, in a way I didn't think possible.

Morel sighs. "Adras, this is my younger brother, Darren. Darren, this is-"

"Adras, I get it." Darren holds out a hand and takes mine, which I didn't even realise is shaking. "A pleasure." He bends and kisses my hand.

His lips are soft and sweet and gentle, warm as they grow heat on my skin, but his eyes say otherwise. They are dark and full of secrets and dark things, dark things that take root in my mind and imagination, blossoming and growing. They are cold and harsh and frosted. I shudder and retract my hand as he lets go.

Morel seems genuinely surprised at his brother, but he shakes his head with wide eyes. He huffs and waves a hand quickly. "Come on. We have work to do." He stalks off into the garden with an apologetic look in my direction.

"Ew. Work." Darren makes a face in my direction, which sends another thrill up my shaky spine. "Nice meeting you, Adras." He winks at me, his dark eyes shining with secrets I suddenly but so desperately want to uncover.

I'm left confused in the garden, alone and shaky. I rub my face with my hands, shaking my head vigorously. Faeries. They're strange. I don't know how much of this is genuine emotion or affects of their strange magic. I have no way to possibly tell. Darren has left me shaky and unsure and full of things I didn't think I'd feel again, things I thought I was over. His dark eyes, cold and harsh but somehow interesting, probe my mind already.

I stare after them, and Darren looks back over his shoulder at me. He's harsh, I can see that much. A handful, as Morel says. But I don't think he's that bad - if a first impression means anything. And I find I want to get to know him better, despite the thrill up my spine at the prospect.

But Darren isn't my main focus. I need to go and find Winter.