“No embrace for your suffering brother, I see,” Laurent said, and Rose rolled her eyes.
“Sabre never made fun of my dolls, so he’s my favorite.”
“Your—You were ten, Rose.”
Rose laughed and gave Laurent a peck on the cheek. Eli felt like his legs had turned to lead. Sabre was so content, standing there with his husband and Rose. Rose must have been his sister-in-law—a sister. A proper sibling, one who didn’t resent him or plot against him, someone who didn’t mind wearing lovely dresses and embraced him like a dear friend.
Sabre didn’t need Eli. Sabre was happier without Eli to conspire and sulk in the shadows. He hadn’t replaced Eli with Rose. Rose was just…better. She and Laurent were what he’d needed all along.
“Easy, friend,” Rey said, taking Eli’s arm. “Can you do this?”
I’m just a hired sword,Eli thought.Sabre doesn’t need me.
“Yes.”
Rey squeezed Eli’s arm, then stepped forward. “Your Grace! Sorry to interrupt, I saw you here and had to say hello.”
“Oh, you’re the scholar,” Sabre said, taking Rey’s hand. “James Melville. I remember. This is my husband, Laurent de Rue, and my sister-in-law, Rose de Rue.”
My sister.
“You’re a scholar?” Rose took Rey’s hand next, practically glowing with all the charm Eli had never managed to muster. “Don’t start talking to my husband when he gets back, you’ll be at it all night. You could say he devours books. I don’t think we’ve met your friend, though,” Rose added, turning to Eli with a smile. Eli stepped forward stiffly, a hand on the pommel of his sword, and gave a jerky bow. For once, he couldn’t bring himself to look at Sabre.
“You were…You were very good,” he said. “In the play.”
Rose’s smile also made her eyes crinkle at the edges. Had she learned that from Sabre? She held out a hand, and Eli bent over it, kissing her knuckles.
“So formal. Thank you.” She lowered her voice and took a step closer. “And don’t worry. I know everyone throws titles around, but Laurie and Sabre aren’t that kind of noble at all.”
Eli wished he could hate her. He wanted her to be horrible and vicious or secretly conniving, but she just seemed pleasant. She was the kind of girl he would want to be friends with in a different world.
That almost made it worse.
“We didn’t get your name, though,” Rose whispered.
“Oh, this is Barrow,” Rey said, shaking Eli’s shoulder. “Artie Barrow. Sorry if he seems a little starstruck. He’s usually more talkative than this. Swordsman from back home—damn good one, too, but we don’t really stand by noble titles in my branch of the family, and well, Duciel’s a different world.”
“It can be. What dueling style do you prefer, Ser Barrow?”
Eli looked up into his brother’s eyes. Sabre was smiling faintly, but there was a crease between his brows, and he was looking at Eli as though there were something odd he couldn’t quite figure out.
“I just have the longsword,” Eli said. His voice came out too soft. “No style, Your Grace.”
“I don’t know if I could hold my own against a blade like that.” Sabre nodded to Eli’s sword. “Can I see it?”
“It’s nothing special.” Eli drew the sword. Sabre reached for it, and their fingers touched. Eli looked up at Sabre, expectant, wondering if Sabre felt a tickle of recognition, but Sabre was just staring down at the sword. Eli let go, and Sabre hefted it in a practiced grip, admiring the edge of the blade.
“Oh, no,” Rose said. “Now we have him started on swords again.”
“I’m not all that accomplished, really,” Sabre said. “But I get by. The balance is nice, very even. You know your swords.”
“I get by,” Eli said, and Sabre smiled at him—genuinely smiled, eyes and all.
Had he ever smiled at Eli like that before?
“If you like swords, though,” Rey said, grinning at Eli as though they were sharing a private joke. “You should hear about the de Guillory blade.”
Eli looked at Rey, hastily trying to remember Rey’s careful role-playing notes. “Oh. Not that.”
