His Paladin Page 7

  That date had gone way better than expected.

  Maybe things were moving a little fast, but I had learned long ago that sometimes the best thing to do was to go along with the flow. Live now, regret later, and so far, I was finding it hard to regret anything. Especially what had happened last night.

  But rolling that around in my mind made me wonder if Quinn was the one with regrets. After all, that apology was genuine as hell, though a little misguided, and definitely heartfelt. Could he have possibly been trying to let me down gently this morning, afraid of how far and fast things had gone? The thought made my stomach twist. No, no -- he would’ve said as much. He was kind, but certainly no doormat. If Quinn didn’t want this...us...to happen, he wouldn’t have kissed me when we were sparring.

  No, anything this good in my life was going to self-destruct the old fashioned way: by me finding the perfect way to screw it all up.

  I sighed again, this time heavily and tapped my fingers anxiously against the steering wheel. Well, so far, so good. I’d just have to worry about my future inevitable relationship issues when the time came. Right now, though, I had to figure out how I was going to survive Roux teasing me from the second I walked in the door until the end of time.

  I gathered my leftovers filled cooler and thermos, leaving my armor in the trunk for the time being. There really wasn’t any getting around it. I mentally steeled myself, took a deep breath, and headed on in.

  I still wasn’t prepared for Roux wearing the biggest, smarmiest grin I’ve ever seen being the very first thing I saw when I walked in.

  “Well, well, well,” he said, and I frowned, feeling my face grow hot despite myself.

  “Don’t even --”

  He held a finger up at me. “Ah ah ah! Nope, no -- I am well within my rights now.” He shuffled to the side, grabbing one of the cheesecloth bags and my thermos out of my hands before I could tell him I was fine. With his free hand, he made a sweeping gesture towards the island table in the middle of the kitchen, placing the portion of my bundle he had taken down there. Then he put his elbows up on the marble surface, held his face in his hands, and continued to grin at me, so smug I had to fight the urge to smack him.

  “Nicole’s probably only going to stay asleep for, like ten minutes tops, so you better tell me everything about what happened,” he said, and I rolled my eyes, piling the rest of my stuff on the table.

  “We went into the practice room and practiced,” I replied evenly.

  Roux arched an eyebrow. “‘Practiced,’ huh? And I’m supposed to believe that kept you there all night?”

  I flushed. “He kissed me after we sparred and everything kind of...got turned up to eleven.” For a second, the memories of those immediate sensations -- Quinn’s mouth crushing against mine, the iron strength of his hands on my waist, the heat of his body and the smoky, sandalwood scent of him -- flooded back to me. I swallowed, hard, trying to push it out of my mind, and Roux’s face lit up with excitement.

  “Your ears are red,” he said, awed. “That doesn’t happen unless you’re really, really into somebody.”

  “I am,” I admitted, and Roux’s hand went fluttering to his chest, his eyes shining with emotion. “I do really like Quinn. Which means this entire relationship is going to end in three days, tops.”

  Roux’s expression shifted into a childish scowl. “What are you talking about?” he scolded me. “Why would you think like that?”

  “Uh, because every relationship I feel halfway decent about ends up exploding?”

  “Yeah, well, every relationship before this one hasn’t included Quinn,” Roux retorted. “Besides, I was there for some of those. None of the ones I saw were your fault.”

  I laughed. It wasn’t a nice laugh. “Roux, you’re my friend. Of course you’re going to say that.”

  He stared back at me incredulously, eyes wide. “You think I would just say that for the benefit of your ego? Do you know me?”

  He had a point. I smiled, putting my hands up. “Okay, okay. You got me there.”

  “Dad!” Nicole shouted excitedly from the top of the stairs, already wearing a princess dress, the blue one, this time. She bounded down, practically leaping into my arms. I swept her up in a big hug, rocking her from side to side.

  “Good morning, kiddo!” I set her down, smiling.

  “Did you have a good sleepover?” she asked, her eyes big and bright, the absolute picture of innocence. Roux snorted, and then he coughed, which rapidly turned into wheezing peals of laughter.

  “Yes,” I said quickly -- too quickly, apparently, because Nicole gave me a curious look. I hastily changed the subject. “Did Uncle Roux behave?”

  “He did,” Nicole replied, nodding. “But we ate all the ice cream and I stayed up an hour after bedtime.”

  “Aw, Nicole!” Roux pouted, apparently recovering from his fit of hilarity. “Don’t tell him that!”

  “And,” Nicole continued, undaunted, but now she had a huge smile on her face. “We have a secret surprise for you.” I watched as she raced over to the little stand in the hallway, retrieving an ornate, red silk envelope with an unmistakable wax seal.

  My heart leapt into my throat.

  “No way,” I breathed, staring at it and walking into the kitchen, Nicole skipping at my heels. “No way.”

  “Yes way,” Roux said, coming up next to me. “Now, open it already!”

  I tore the letter open, my hands shaking as I unfurled the letter inside. “The Dragon Relics have at last been discovered,” I read in a quiet, wavering voice. “While the Council has carefully considered and debated every potential location at length, we are pleased to announce our final decision has been made. With its extensive product selection, highly rated custom adventures, and numerous special touches, this location quickly became a favorite of the Council, and we are honored by their commitment to our world. This year’s final event, the Last Battle to decide the fate of Juhanis, will be held at...Lochmire Castle.”

  Roux whooped with joy, throwing his arms around my shoulders and whirling me around in a celebratory hug. Nicole squealed, racing around the house and shrieking with excited delight. And my legs gave out from under me; I slid to the tile of the kitchen floor, reeling with impossible joy.

  We were going to host the final battle. Lochmire Castle was, at last, going to get the recognition it deserved.

  That is, if I could manage to put everything together. My happiness rapidly cooled, my stomach churning with cold worry.

  Roux looked at me, and the grin immediately evaporated off his face. “Oh, no you don’t,” he said, abruptly serious. “You’re getting that look.”

  “I have to call FX Trove about pyrotechnics today,” I said, mostly to myself, holding my head in my hands. “And then Swordworks -- we’re going to need more armor, leather and chainmail and plate. And then I’ll need to do landscaping around the grounds, clean the trails, figure out how to get the dragon moving properly again --”

  “No, no, no,” Roux said, kneeling down to meet my eyes, putting his hands on my shoulders to give me a rough shake. “Raine, dude -- you can’t do all of this prep yourself. Absolutely not.”

  I stared back at him blankly. “Who else is going to do it?” I asked.

  Roux stood back up, snorting, his hands on his hips. “Well, me, for one. You’re crazy if you think I’m not going to help you out, whether you like it or not. But we’re going to need way more than just the two of us.”

  I shook my head. “Anyone who could help us enough is already in the community. They’re going to want to LARP, not do setup or prep. I’m the only one with enough experience to do it.”

  Roux’s face twisted into a worried frown. “Raine --”

  “I can do it,” I snapped, harsher than I meant to, honestly, and Roux flinched. I sighed, standing back up. “I can handle this,” I said, softer this time, but Roux’s expression didn’t change.

  He was right. I knew he was right. But if I was going to make this
event the best it could possibly be, that meant I had to be directly involved and directly responsible for every single part of it. I couldn’t risk entrusting it to someone else. If Lochmire was going to get the recognition it deserved, then I needed to make sure every part of the event was perfect.

  “We’re gonna be the battle place!” Nicole roared, charging into the kitchen with a padded cloth chestplate and a foam sword, her dress trailing behind her. Princess Elora was very much a warrior princess. She batted Roux with the sword slowly and lightly, as were the rules when someone wasn’t wearing armor. He feigned a dramatic injury, our scuffle forgotten in the wake of Nicole’s return. She gave a heroic, triumphant laugh. “I’m going to kill all the enemy boys!”

  I grinned at her, shaking my head. Yeah, that was going to be a fun one to explain to her teacher if she started yelling that at recess. “Only after a lot of work,” I told her. “And not for a little while.”

  That didn’t seem to put a damper on her enthusiasm at all. She lightly struck out at Roux again with her sword, and he tragically declared he was now dying, sinking to the floor with dramatic choking and gasping noises as Nicole continued to hit him to ensure the job was finished.

  I couldn’t stop doing the calculus of Lochmire prep for the event in my head, long after Roux left and Nicole and I came back from lunch. There were so many things I needed to do, needed to get done. I was halfway through writing the fifty-third item on my list at home that evening, slouched over the kitchen table and fretting over the order of operations for all of them, when my phone started buzzing across the table.

  “Yes?” I said, irritated at the interruption, only half-realizing I had picked it up. The person on the line hesitated.

  “Uh, Raine?”

  Quinn. Guilt balled up in my gut.

  “Shit, Quinn,” I said. “Sorry. I’m, uh, just really busy here.”

  Silence. Then, “I can call back --”

  “No, no.” I forced myself to turn away from the list on the kitchen table. “What’s up?”

  “I wanted to see if you...maybe wanted to go out tomorrow night? For dinner?”

  Something light and lovely swirled inside my chest, but the thought of everything I needed to get done swept over it, a dark, encroaching storm, snuffing out my joy like a candle in a hurricane. I sighed.

  “I’d like that,” I told him, honestly. “But I can’t, unfortunately. I’m going to be swamped as hell for most of the foreseeable future.”

  “What’s going on?” he asked, and the genuine concern I heard there was all I needed.

  “Lochmire got picked to host this big LARP event,” I confessed, despite my better judgment. “The Last Battle, biggest event of the year. There’s so much I have to get done for it, and not much time to do it all in. I’m sort of at my wit’s end already, and it’s just in the planning phase. I want to make sure it’s all going to go smoothly, because it’s vitally important to Lochmire’s future, if all goes well. But I don’t...I don’t know if I can manage it by myself.”

  It felt like uncorking a bottle, or extracting something poisonous, telling him all this -- a heavy weight being lifted off of me, enough that I could almost see the light at the end of the tunnel.

  There was a long pause, so long I was starting to fear my issues had scared him right off the call, but then Quinn spoke again, soft and sure.

  “I’d like to help you,” he said. “I don’t know much about this LARP stuff, but I can be an extra pair of hands, or eyes, or anything you need.”

  We’re going to need way more than just the two of us. I chewed the inside of my mouth for a moment. “I don’t want to force you into anything.”

  “I want to help you,” he said, his voice firm. “Even if it’s just lifting a few boxes, or making phone calls on your behalf. You tell me what to do, and I’ll do the best I can to make it easier on you.”

  A sharp pang of affection lanced itself deep inside my heart. I chuckled, trying to reign in the soft warmth flooding through me at his words. “Wow. I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say all at once.”

  He laughed. “Well, I had a lot to say. I’m serious, Raine. Let me help you out.”

  God, he seemed sincere. And, like it or not, I really did need help. More than I wanted to admit. This was going to be huge for Lochmire: the foundation of a real, widespread legacy.

  “Okay,” I told him, finally. “You can help out. Can you meet me at Lochmire after you’re off of work tomorrow?”

  “Affirmative,” he replied. “I’ll see you then.”

  “Great.” I tried to bite my lip instead of speaking, but the words came tumbling out anyway. “Thanks, Quinn. Really.”

  “It’s no problem.” I could hear the soft warmth of his slow, smoldering smile. “Good night, Raine.”

  “Good night.” I hung up, sighing, pinching the bridge of my nose. Well, now my relationship was officially wrapped up in all this: an immense undertaking unlike anything I’d ever done before, one I had only a few scant weeks to get done.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  11

  Quinn

  I set down the largest, and final, bundle of chainmail heavily, trying to get all of them relatively organized. Satisfied with the arrangement, I took one out of the pile and laid it flat against the weathered wood table in front of me, spraying with a liberal amount of machine oil from a nearby can, the thick, cloying scent of it hanging in the air despite the open windows and running fans, mixing with the smells of old leather and fresh plastic. After it looked coated well-enough, I carefully rolled it up in a large, old t-shirt specifically for this purpose, and began rolling the wrapped bundle around in a circular motion for about ten or so minutes, just as I had been shown. Once that was finished, I placed it as the start of a brand new pile on the table to my far right, and then picked up the next set of chainmail, repeating the process.

  This was an important part of getting the product ready for sale, apparently: coating the armor in oil initially would seal the metal, prevent it from rusting from general use and humidity for about a year. It was one of many new things I had learned over the past five days, trying to help Raine as best I could, operating with the scant amount of knowledge I had about all the intricacies of LARP equipment. It had been difficult, to say the least, but I felt like I was finally getting the hang of it.

  At least, I thought I was.

  I heard Raine enter the back room behind me, and then he sighed -- a sound that was unfortunately becoming more and more familiar.

  “Quinn,” he said wearily, as I turned around to blink at him, “what are you doing?”

  My stomach started to twist. I much preferred someone straight up telling me what I had done was wrong, rather than this whole song and dance number Raine was quickly perfecting. “Uh, getting the new shipment of chainmail together. I’m getting them ready for sale, like you showed me two days ago. Oil curing.”

  He walked up to my pile of chainmail, holding up two sets, one in each hand.

  “This one’s short sleeved,” he said slowly, lifting the one on the left, like he was explaining it to a child. “And this one --” he continued, lifting the one on the right, “-- is long sleeved. We don’t need any more short sleeved sets; you and I did that whole thing two days back, remember?”

  My temper flared at his tone, but I held it firmly in check. It didn’t take much to see that Raine was stressed, and I had offered to help, for better or worse. Still, that didn’t give him the right to talk to me like that.

  “Right,” I said, feeling sinkingly stupid. “Sorry. I’ll put the short sleeved ones back.”

  Raine didn’t even bother to answer, carelessly tossing both sets of chainmail back onto the pile he had retrieved them from, turning on his heel and walking back into the main storefront.

  “Roux!” he yelled on his way out. “I need those new cores for the next batch of swords!”

  The days had been much the same: I’d inevitably do someth
ing wrong, becoming more of a hindrance than a help, and then, after being shown exactly what to do instead of just a brief gloss over Raine for some reason believed would initially be enough, Raine would more or less ignore me for the rest of the day, occupied with a dozen other things, as I would spend the rest of my day trying to make up for my mistake. He didn’t have the time or the patience to actually show me what to do the first time around, making nearly all of my first attempts absolute disasters, making me reluctant to get started at all. Without fail, it inevitably made me feel awful, worse than useless.

  A weight, dragging everyone down. Dragging Raine down.

  At least I could solve today’s issue easily enough. He had caught me early on in the process this time. I spent the next twenty minutes or so separating out the short sleeved chainmail from the long sleeved sets. Once that was finished, I went back to work on sealing the armor with oil, the simple monotony of the process allowing my mind to wander.

  With an unprecedented number of attendees going to be at Lochmire for the event, Raine was in a rough spot, but it wasn’t hard to see most of the damage was self-inflicted. He seemed unable or unwilling to let Roux or me do anything other than simple busywork, taking on the lion’s share of the daily tasks to prepare Lochmire for the big event. While that made sense in my case, Roux had plenty of experience and knowledge in what needed to get done, and wasn’t shy about reminding Raine of this often. But no matter what, Raine refused to give Roux the latitude necessary to get the important stuff done. Raine was dead-set on taking it all on himself, probably because he was terrified of anything going south, but I was well aware that wasn’t the way to do it. In my line of work, you trust everyone you’re working with to be given everything they need to know, and that they have the talent, training, and the drive to get it all done. Nobody can do everything, but together in a group, with the right training, mindset, and initiative? I knew better than anyone that kind of group could do even the impossible.