Erin Evans - The Adversary

“There is not a thing in my life,” he finally said, “that I regret like I do not telling you how much I loved you then. I was scared, and I was stupid, and if I’d known she was going to take you from me. .” He swallowed hard. “I loved you, Havi. I should have said it.” He pulled her nearer. “I love you still.”

He kissed her and kissed her and kissed her. And it didn’t matter that her hands were still clumsy or that they were both covered in gore or that the ground was cold and hard: he still loved her.

26 Ches, the Year of the Nether Mountain Scrolls (1486 DR) The Lost Peaks

Havilar woke to the sun streaming through a low break in the clouds, through the gap in the trees. Every bit of her was sore, but that, too, was worth it. She smiled to herself. She reached for Brin, but found him already dressed and stirring up the fire under a cook pot. Her clothes were thrown over a nearby tree’s low branches. The smell of the veserab was a faint mustiness on the cold air, almost hidden in the woodsmoke.

Brin stared into the empty air, still looking sad and distant. Like there was a cloud over him, keeping out the sun and turning everything dark again.

“Good morning,” Havilar said after another moment. He turned to her, and the cloud over him lifted. He smiled, and something similarly cloudy lifted off Havilar.

“Good morning,” he said. “Did you sleep all right?”

“Well enough.” Havilar smiled, feeling suddenly shy. She nodded at the pot. “What’s for morningfeast?”

Brin grinned. “Bathwater. There’s a little waterfall near here, but it’s basically flowing ice. I figured this would be nicer for you.”

Havilar wrapped her cloak around herself and went to sit beside him, not saying that she was pretty used to washing in cold streams. It was too nice of him. She leaned against him.

“How long do you think we have before they find us?”

“Hopefully, we get a little more time,” Brin said. He slipped an arm around her, over the cloak, and drew her close, nuzzling her behind the ear. “If a godsbedamned devil shows up now, I swear to every Watching God. .”

Havilar giggled. “Which is worse right now? A devil or Mehen?”

“A fair point,” Brin said, but he didn’t stop. “I suppose you ought to put some clothes on.”

“I suppose. When I’m ready,” Havilar said, arranging her cloak over her knees. “You’ve had a lot more. . practice, haven’t you?”

Brin chuckled softly. “A little less clumsy, yes?”

Havilar wet her mouth. “How. . much practice?”

He pulled back, far enough to look her in the eyes. “I don’t know. I didn’t really keep track of the times.”

“More than one girl?”

He seemed to search her face. “Yes,” he said.

A weight lifted off her chest. If it had just been one girl for all those years, then he was surely in love with someone else and Lorcan was right, it was all going to end badly. But it wasn’t. “More than a hundred?” she asked.

Brin burst out laughing. “Do you think I became a heartwarder while you were gone? Quit eating and sleeping? Gods.”

Havilar crossed her legs over, pulling herself tighter in. “I don’t know.”

His expression softened and he pulled her close again. “Hey, sorry. It’s three,” he said. “Just three.”

Three-why was that worse than “more than one, less than a hundred”? Havilar shifted. “Do you. . Did you love them?”

Brin hesitated. “I tried to. I thought I could let go of you. I thought I had to.”

“Did you?”

He rested his chin on her shoulder and sighed. “What do you think?”

Havilar bit her lip. She thought it was still too lucky to believe. She thought it was still too wonderful for there not to be some secret trap nestled in the middle of it that she hadn’t found yet. She still wondered why he looked so troubled when he thought she wasn’t looking.

Havilar considered the water, still working toward steaming. “What were you thinking of before?” she asked. “While I was sleeping? You looked awfully unhappy.”

“Court things,” he said, brushing her hair back. “Cormyr’s mired, badly.” He kissed her jaw. “As I said, I probably shouldn’t have left. And before. . all I wanted was to be sure you were all right. Not send you running because you were already completely overwhelmed by everything under the sun, and suddenly here I am, asking you how you feel about me.” A smile quirked the corner of his mouth. “For all I knew, you wanted to be away from everyone. I couldn’t make that harder.”

“That’s good of you,” Havilar managed. She leaned into him again. “What would you have done if that was the case?” Marry the crazy noblewoman, she thought. Fall in love with one of those other three.

“Kept waiting?” Brin said. “I could love you from any distance closer than the Hells, and my life would be happier for it. But this. . I like this best.” He was silent a moment, before adding, “I would fight an army of devils to keep this.”

Havilar smiled. “Me too.”

She could have gladly stayed there, beside the fire, curled so close to her love. She could have sat on the cold stone for seven and a half years, for twenty-five, for an eternity. And then her thoughts started drifting-the Harpers were coming, Farideh was in trouble, there were still devils afoot.

“Water’s ready,” Brin said.

Reluctantly, Havilar left him there, so she could scrub the last of the veserab from her skin and dress in her still-damp clothes. She had mastered the glaive again, Brin was hers once more, and now they were going to save Farideh. Everything was going right again.

Unless. .

She stopped, midway through lacing her blouse, struck by a sudden fear. What if Farideh was the thing that would go wrong? What if Havilar got back everything she’d lost, except Farideh? She was still furious with her twin, but she didn’t want that.

It doesn’t work that way, she told herself. But her fingers suddenly felt stiff and shaking, and the sense that she’d somehow ruined things lurked in the back of her thoughts.

It wouldn’t go wrong, she told herself. She put the amulet of Selûne on once more, and slipped the ruby necklace into her pocket. It wouldn’t go wrong because she wouldn’t let it.

She’d finished braiding her wet hair and begun cleaning the corners and crevices of her glaive she’d missed the night before, when the sound of another group approaching from the north end of the ledge reached them. Havilar stood, peering out into the distance for some hint of who it was.

At the lead were the Harpers from Tam’s office that awful night, trailed by robed wizards and shambling ghouls. Elves, carrying bows and arrows. A litter hauled by horrible-looking beasts, and something straight out of one of Havilar’s worst nightmares. But she hardly noticed any of them, because Mehen himself broke from the group and ran toward her.

He caught her up in a fierce embrace, and Havilar found a part of herself wanting to weep all over again. She hadn’t realized just how badly she missed Mehen, how awful it had been to leave, until then.

“What were you thinking ?” he muttered.

Shame bloomed in Havilar’s heart. “Sorry,” she said, but only for making Mehen worry, for leaving so abruptly. She would have done the same thing over again a second time, she felt sure-waiting in Waterdeep even a breath longer would have killed her. “But you found me,” she offered. “And now we can find Farideh.”

Mehen held her a moment longer. “If I could send you safely back, I would.”

“I promise to be careful.”

He gave a short laugh. “How long has it been since I heard that?” He let her go finally. She saw Mehen’s gaze sweep the camp, lingering on the bedrolls that were packed and set together, then finding Brin beside the fire. He narrowed his eyes. “How long were you waiting?”