Rather than Resenting: Ch. 32

A Lovely Reunion

Notes:

This chapter is shorter than I'd like it to be, but otherwise it would be ridiculously massive 😅

*****

There was a hint of snow in the air that whistled around Artham’s face and through his hair and wings, but he barely noticed it or the cold. He had one goal in mind: to find Janner before he did whatever he was planning on doing. Were the chances of something really horrifically dreadful happening very high? Possibly, and he had acted strangely over the past several days. Janner acting strangely plus his request to free Amrah plus his failure to appear at the Ball after Cerlon's birth was announced plus his failure to be anywhere sensible (not to mention Nia's unexpected panic) added up to far more of a risk than he was willing to take.

The only trouble was that he wasn’t completely certain where exactly Janner and Amrah would be in relation to the forest, and the thought of checking multiple places only to not find them was a mistake he could not afford. 

Well, you want to find them quickly, he thought to himself. Fly higher. Fly closer. Look from there. 

Artham smiled, though it may have appeared as more of a grimace, considering how fearful he was for his nephew’s sake. He changed trajectory in the air and angled his wings differently to increase his altitude, flying in tight, steep circles, simultaneously moving toward the forest. It took him only a few moments to spot two person-shaped figures on the outskirts of the woods not too far outside Castle Rysen, and though it should have been two dark to see who they were, a golden light surrounded them, a strange golden light that played along the edges of his memory just out of reach. 

Artham began a downward rapid spiral, halfway out of simple curiosity and halfway out of feeling that it was the two people whom he sought. And though it could have been anyone in Anniera, he felt it was Janner and Amrah. There was simply no other explanation. 

As he drew nearer and nearer in continuing spirals, keeping the two figures in his line of sight as often as he could, his certainty mounted, even more so when he saw the slightly taller of the two figures turn tip their head up to look at him (clearly Janner’s face, that much was obvious) and, after a brief stall shouted, “Uncle Artham, what are you doing?”

Purposely descending as rapidly as possible so he could talk to his nephew face-to-face and briefly scold him first for terrifying him, second for terrifying Sara for a reason he didn’t quite understand, and third for abandoning Kalmar when it came to the speech, Artham landed in front of them in a few seconds, sending up a spray of snow as he did so. 

“I’m out here looking for you!” he retorted, hoping the scolding tone in his voice was obvious enough to the point at which Janner would get it but not feel like a terrible human being. And he planned on asking Janner about the glowing light in his hand, but that wasn’t as important as other things.  “Sara and Nia are the most recent people who commissioned me to find you and they were absolutely frantic as they did so—”

Janner’s face had gone white with horror as soon as Artham had said Sara’s name, but it wasn’t until that point at which he interrupted him with, “Oh, Maker help me, how did I not remember until now?!”

Artham blinked at him, once again confused. “Janner, what were you doing out here? You certainly weren’t…well, sentencing Amrah to death or anything.” Amrah’s face blanched at the thought of that, and Artham couldn’t help but actually notice her for the first time since landing. She was…different. Something had changed about her. She looked oddly younger, and her eyes were golden-brown, a lovely color, really. What had happened?

Staring back at his apparently very wrong assumption, Janner’s mouth dropped open. “Why would I do that?! The Maker told me to meld with her, not kill her! And…oh, Sara’s going to be frantic.”

Artham wanted to comment saying that Janner looked frantic (sort of) and needed to calm down, but he was still stuck on what he had heard. “Wait, the Maker told you to meld with Amrah?! What?”

There was a delay in between when he asked the question and when Janner actually answered, and in that time he saw frustration and worry flood over Janner's face.

“I-I-I’m sorry, Uncle Artham," he finally stammered in response. "I can’t explain it. Can….you walk Amrah back? Please? For chivalry?”

“For goodness sake, Janner!” Amrah spoke up for the first time since Artham had arrived. He was a little surprised: she sounded genuinely nice, and her voice was a little like sweet bells, but not in an overly grating way. More of a gentle loveliness. “Forget chivalry and go tell your wife you’re alright!”

Janner nodded, placed the glowing thing that was rock in Artham’s hand, and, without a word, raced toward the castle, faster than anyone had ever seen him run in his entire life.

He kept looking after him though, switching his gaze between his retreating nephew and Amrah and the rock in his hand that could only be an ancient stone. “He really melded with you?” he asked, still completely baffled.

She nodded. 

“And you didn’t ask it of him?”

Another nod. 

“But-but, why? And how?!”

Amrah smiled at him lightly, her eyes shining still. “I gave him the holoré as proof that I had changed. I suppose he took that as a sign from the Maker that he was being asked to meld with me.

“I would never have asked,” she added softly. “Please know that.”

“I believe you,” Artham breathed, looking down at the holoré  in astonishment. “I’m just still in awe over the fact that he was willing.” 

*****

Janner spent the entire (very brief) sprint to the castle inwardly slapping himself for not remembering that Sara had seen the glow of the holoré as he melded and had likely been utterly terrified since. How long had it been? Twenty minutes? Thirty? Less? More?

However long it had been, his sword sheath had repeatedly slapped his right thigh as punishment all the way to the castle. His cloak would have been threatening to choke him as punishment as well, but he had decided to undo the clasp and tuck it under his arm, clutching it as he ran. Yes, he could have simply let it sail onto the snowy ground for Artham to pick up, but that would have just been rude and inconsiderate even if it was more convenient.

Though his cloak had stopped choking him, his sword sheath had not stopped slapping him until he slowed down, right outside the gates so he could give a breathless greeting to the guards, then began again as he jogged to the doors, through the Throne Room, into the private sector, and up the stairs two at a time.

He walked to the room so he could catch his breath before actually seeing Sara and caught a glimpse of a coat rack he had never remembered being there before out of the corner of his eye. His cloak left hanging on the coat rack, and hurried over to his and Sara’s room, knocking in case she and Nia were doing something they would prefer to have privacy for (like praying). He made sure his knock sounded normal and not anywhere near urgent to make Sara panic as little as possible. 

There was still an eruption of two frantic voices at the sound and when the door opened, Janner was surprised to see himself staring into the face of Doctor Jebsun.

“Well, good news,” he announced, actually sounding optimistic for once (Janner didn’t even know if he could recall a single time when Jebsun had actually sounded optimistic). “He is completely alive, looks nowhere near half-dead, and is itching to get into the room.”

“Then let him in!” came Sara’s desperate cry and Jebsun was stepping aside, Janner was running into to the room, Sara was flying into his arms, he was embracing her and lifting her off the ground, spinning her in a brief circle before putting her down again and hugging her even tighter, feeling her tears as she buried her face into his neck and shoulder.

Don’t you ever do that to me again,” she whispered with a tremulous fierceness. “Unless the Maker tells you to. Oh, Maker, please don’t tell him to,” she added, more tears spilling down her cheeks. 

“I won’t,” he breathed, closing his eyes . “Sara, I will do all that is in my power to never leave you again.”

They stood that way for a few more minutes before realizing Nia and Jebsun were still in the room. But almost before they had time to be embarrassed, Sara gasped, stared at him, and blurted out, “Your speech! Artham came up twenty minutes ago, saying Kalmar needed you to give your speech!”

It was a few moments before he gathered the words to reply. “Oh, he’s going to be absolutely furious!”

“Then go!” Sara cried while muttering something about the fact that it was a miracle that his suit was unwrinkled and doing her best to straighten his likely very messy hair. 

Janner hesitated, kissed her cheek one more time, and began running toward the Ballroom.

*****

Notes:

Last chapter and epilogue tomorrow! ^^