Willow was nonplussed. The Southern Provinces were well known for their own hot springs, and Taowren was one of the least bashful people she had ever met. This seemed like the sort of social occasion Taowren would be enthusiastic about—in fact, apart from sparring, Taowren was enthusiastic about everything. She opened her mouth to question him further, but Tomar cut her off.
“Don’t bother, Willow, it’s just one of his many eccentricities. He won’t change his mind.” He turned to the rest of the crowd. “How about it? To the springs before dinner?”
There was a hum of agreement, and the group of bathhouse-goers formed and left in a jostling, heckling mass. Soon only Taowren, Brayandli, Willow and Scout remained. Scout was busy stamping the earth flat where someone’s sword stick had flung bits of moss and soil up in a particularly badly aimed strike, leaving Taowren glancing between the other two.
“You’re not going, Willow?” Taowren asked, dousing his hair with water and sweeping it back as he straightened up.
“I have other things to attend to.” She shrugged lightly. “I’ll see you later.”
Willow drifted across the training grounds towards the entrance with a single, smiling, backwards glance at the lingering pair. Brayandli was staring after her with a small frown, silent as the grave. Taowren casually approached, resting his chin on one hand as he supported his elbow with the other as he gazed up at the taller youth.
“Hey, Brandy…” Taowren chirped. Brayandli’s head turned. “…I have a question for you.”
“Mm?” Brayandli blinked at him.
“It might be kind of weird though,” Taowren drummed his fingers on his chin.
“What is it?” Brayandli looked anxious.
“Want to get some food with me?” Taowren asked, all smiles.
Brayandli stared at him in confused silence, not understanding, but then Taowren gestured with his head towards Scout with what he hoped was a meaningful expression. Come on, Pretty Boy, take the hint… Brayandli’s cousin was still rectifying the ‘battle’ damage and paying them no attention whatsoever, but Taowren didn’t want to bring up certain topics in front of the Okan elders and risk another lecture.
Understanding swept over Brayandli, but still his face pinched in consternation.
“I know, you don’t want to go to the dining hall at this hour, right?” Taowren, however, was prepared for once and continued to smile up at him sweetly. “I just so happen to know a quiet spot somewhere else!”
It was impossible to say whether it was the coaxing words or the freckled face smiling up at him, but Brayandli slowly, almost imperceptibly, nodded his head.
“Great!” Wary of allowing this apprehensive animal to change its mind and flee, Taowren grabbed one of the taller boy’s arms and all but dragged Brayandli out of the training grounds.
Taowren led the duo not to the dining hall but directly to the kitchens. The Okan residence was home to only a handful of dedicated staff; only those who were responsible for cooking, cleaning and caring for the horses were considered important enough roles to warrant permanent positions. In Taowren’s near month here, he had made an effort to get to know all of the staff, and the cooks were no exception. His nightly excursions with Ettore meant that he usually slept through the breakfast serving hours, so it had become a habit to pay the cooks a visit to beg a freshly baked roll as dawn broke, or to offer to finish off the remains of breakfast before rushing off to his lessons.
“Be a good boy and wait here.” Taowren patted Brayandli on his arm and, with a wink, vanished inside. Brayandli stood by the kitchen doors, silently staring at the space the unruly young man had just filled and rubbing his arm absently. From within the kitchen he could hear the flow of conversation.
“Well, if it isn’t Young Master Taown! Skipping proper mealtimes again, are we, lad?”
“You know me. I eat when I’m hungry, and don’t when I’m not.” Taowren’s voice floated out through the open door, accompanied by the cacophony of conflicting smells and bustling sounds that had made Brayandli avoid the kitchens for as long as he could remember. He drew himself away from the door by a couple of steps and wafted his face with his hand a few times, but this only resulted in more of the miasma penetrating his nostrils.
“Mind if I take a few of these?”
“Sure, sure. They’ll only be wasted if you don’t. Hard to gauge how much our guests will eat during the Summer Summit—everyone’s coming and going all the time.”
It was not long before Taowren re-emerged with a broad smile on his face and a large knotted handkerchief dangling from one hand, looking like it was filled to the brim with a collection of small buns and pastries. Brayandli breathed a silent sigh of relief as they left the periphery of the kitchens.
“Why did you get so many?” he could not help but ask as, following a step behind the shorter boy, he was led up the path and away from the kitchens. “That is too much for two people.”
“I don’t know what you like, so I just got a few of everything.” Taowren replied. And my secret dragon spirit that lives on the mountain will eat the rest. They continued all the way up to a bend in the stone walkway, before veering right down a smaller avenue. The branches of trees stuck out over it into their path, and moss and weeds were creeping up through the gaps in the stone slabs underfoot.
“This section of the grounds is in disrepair.” Brayandli remarked. “Where are we going?”
“There’s an old pavilion up ahead, isn’t there?” Taowren had explored most of the grounds by now and knew for a fact there was.
“Yes, but it is falling apart…” Brayandli’s tone was confused.
“So no one will be there, right?” Taowren turned and aimed that smile at him again. “Come on, Pretty Boy! Trust me, okay?”
Brayandli didn’t say another word, but studied Taowren’s face for a beat, before once more giving him a very small nod. Taowren took this as consent to continue doing as he pleased, and when the wooden structure came into view he simply skipped up onto the creaking boards of its porch, turning to seat himself on the top step as it gave out an alarming groan. He let the handkerchief of buns fall into his lap and patted the peeling wood next to him. Brayandli was silent as he stepped up in one long fluid stride, the tails of his tunic gracefully swinging with the motion, before taking the proffered seat with exquisite dignity.
“Which ones do you want?” Taowren offered the bundle to Brayandli. The taller youth selected three, two of spicy pork and a single one of sweet bean paste. Taowren’s eyebrows rose in mild surprise. “You like spicy food? I wouldn’t have taken you for the type.”
“The spicy ones are my favourite, actually,” Brayandli murmured, before they fell into a few minutes of eating in silence. “What did you want to ask me…?”
“Hm?” Taowren had all but forgotten his earlier words, his attention now focused on the food. “Oh, right. I found something earlier and wondered if you might know about it.”
“What did you find?” Brayandli tilted his head questioningly.
Taowren shifted the buns from his lap and reached inside his dark robes to carefully remove a bundle of fabric. Brayandli leaned forward as he opened it to reveal the looping piece of snare still stained with the blood of the hare. Brayandli’s eyes instantly widened, then narrowed with a look as sharp as daggers.
“Where did you find this?” Brayandli asked concernedly as he instinctively reached for the item, but Taowren quickly snatched it back.
“Careful! It’s coated in something—I think it might be poison.” Taowren said as he studied that perfect face, and felt a rising spark of anxiety. Brayandli’s expression spoke of horror and serious concern, much like Ettore’s had.
“I was taking a walk…” A little voice in the back of Taowren’s head whispered that he probably wasn’t supposed to be wandering around the mountains on his own at night—not that he was on his own, technically, but he couldn’t tell Brayandli that.
“Where?” Brayandli shot him a look, and Taowren could practically hear the cogs of his mind turning as his companion came to the inevitable, obvious conclusion. “Taowren, outsiders are not permitted to explore the mountains. It is dangerous.”
Taowren bit his lip and didn’t say another word; if he didn’t admit to it, technically he couldn’t get in trouble again, right? Right? He didn’t want another lecture, and of the five Okan clan members Taowren had properly met, Brayandli had seemed the safest one to ask. Willow and Bayfolin had both already lectured him once. Lord Balin was the head of the family, and therefore too intimidating. Taowren didn’t know what to make of Scout as yet, but there was a man with a face full of scars and missing an actual hand as the result of spirit bonding—he would definitely scold him for wandering where wild dangerous spirits lived. Brayandli was sure to be the safest bet.
All this whizzed through Taowren’s mind in a flash, only to be discarded as the intense look in Brayandli’s eyes now made the pretty boy seem almost as fearsome as his father.
“Tell me where, exactly.” Brayandli closed his pale eyes. “I need to report this to Scout.”
“I don’t want to get in trouble…” Taowren mumbled back, picking at the skin of a bun.
“I will not say it was you who found it.” Brayandli’s eyes opened again, the intensity of his gaze replaced with the mask of calm he usually wore, but there was an almost pleading look in his pale eyes. “It is important we know where this came from. It is unspeakably wrong to find this so close to the Okan residence.”
“It was about an hour north-east of the residence gates, if you’re moving fast. There’s a clearing with an oak tree at the base of a rising slope…” Taowren then explained the location in further detail, all the while Brayandli stared at him in silent consternation.
“Do not go there again.” Brayandli said flatly when he had finished.
“I wont,” Taowren replied. Step foot in that one exact spot, he completed in his head, before feeling a sharp flash of guilt at the idea of misleading Brayandli. He hesitated, before asking the question at the forefront of his mind. “So, what exactly is it?”
“A snare—the kind used for hunting small game and wildlife,” Brayandli replied with a frown. “I do not care for snares. They offer a slow death for an animal that cannot comprehend what is happening to it.”
“But what’s so bad about this one specifically?”
Brayandli gingerly lifted the offending item up beneath his nose and gave a careful sniff, before recoiling. “You were correct. This one has been coated in poison, but that is not the true crime.” Brayandli held it up again, not a glint of the dappled sunlight reflecting off the blackened metal. “This is an iron snare. Iron can injure unsuspecting spirits, or even kill small or very young ones.”
“Why would it be here, then?” Taowren asked, his mind going to Ettore. He didn’t even want to imagine the juvenile dragon tangled up in one of those snares. “Isn’t injuring spirits, like, the worst crime you can commit in your province?”
“Apart from killing one, yes.” Brayandli shook his head, beautiful face pinching with lines of worry. “Thank you for showing me this.”
“Sure. Thanks for not telling on me,” Taowren grinned. Brayandli nodded at him, and then his gaze went distant, eyes unfocusing for a moment. Taowren blinked at him as he felt a sudden shift in the air that made his ears pop.
Brayandli’s head turned in the direction of the training grounds.
“I need to show this to Scout. He is still in the sparring field,” Brayandli said, abruptly standing up and stepping off the wooden platform. Taowren gave their abandoned picnic a mournful look before gathering the remaining buns back into their wrapping.
“How do you know he’s still there?” Taowren couldn’t help but ask as Brayandli brushed non-existent crumbs from the front of his robe. And how do you eat so tidily…
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