Elf Defence (Adventures in Aguillon #2) - Lisa Henry Page 0,52

out and extended a hand.

The troll surveyed them ponderously. “Queee graaaach,” it finally agreed, and moved aside to allow them entrance.

“What did it say?” Lars asked in an undertone.

“She said we’re welcome to stay,” Calarian translated as they entered the hut. It was dusty and barely furnished and it smelled incredibly bad, but at least it was safe.

Lars sat heavily on an overstuffed couch, releasing a cloud of dust and startling a nest of mice. He scuffed his boots against the floorboards. “You’re really clever, knowing troll.” He didn’t sound particularly happy about it.

“Um, I learned it as part of a game,” Calarian admitted. “I didn’t know it would actually be useful.”

“Still,” Lars mumbled into his chest. “Even if you and Benji are a pair of big fat liars, at least you have something to offer. Benji’s smart, and he’s good with a bollock knife, and you speak troll and can hear everything for miles, and me? I’m nothing but a stupid cowherd who was dumb enough to believe you when you told me my father thought highly of me. I should have known better. Nobody’s ever thought highly of me in my entire life.”

The hut was silent, except for the rustling of the mice and the sound of Calarian’s heart breaking.

All right, perhaps that was a touch dramatic, but Calarian definitely felt a pang in his chest as he thought of Lars, good, sweet, gentle, unexpectedly clever Lars, being overlooked. He sat down next to him and put one hand on his knee. “Well, I think highly of you. I think you’re brilliant.”

“Right,” Lars said bitterly. “You think so much of me that you when you first met me, you just assumed I was just some dumb hick who’d believe you when you said I was the duke, and you know what? You were right.” He stared at the floor as he whispered, “And then, when you wanted to get me into bed, I was stupid enough to believe you cared. No wonder Gretchen calls me her idiot brother.” His shoulders hunched, and he settled his elbows on his knees with a sigh so deep that it must have been dragged from his very soul.

Guilt gnawed at Calarian, a mean little creature with razor sharp teeth. “It’s true,” he admitted. “We panicked, and we grabbed the first available body that wasn’t, well, a body.” Lars snorted out something like a laugh, and Calarian grasped at the straw of encouragement. “But we really did care for you—do care for you,” he corrected. “We want to be with you. We both lo-like you.” He caught himself just in time.

“Really?” Lars asked, eyes wide, obviously eager for reassurance.

Calarian nodded. “Definitely. You might just be a cowherd, but you’re smarter than us when it comes to emotions and stuff. All that kissing and hugging and touching when it’s not sex? It’s really nice, but we never did that before, because we’re too stupid, and we needed you to show us.” Lars brightened at that, so Calarian surged on. “And you really are a good duke—look how you sorted out the trolls and the monster, and we hardly had to help at all.” Calarian squeezed his knee reassuringly.

“Do you think so? Because I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing and I don't know what the rules are, and I’m honestly just making it up as I go along and hoping for the best.”

“Are you talking about being a duke, or being with me and Benji?”

Lars gave a tentative smile. “Um, both? It’s all very confusing.”

“I think,” Calarian said slowly, “that that might just be life. Making it up as you go along and hoping nobody notices.”

Lars let out a soft laugh. “You mean everyone’s pretending?”

Calarian thought of Loth and Quinn running a kingdom together, of Dave and his desire to be a bard, of Scott and his band of travelling players, and of Benji and his manifesto. “I’m almost certain of it.”

Lars looked almost achingly grateful at his words, and Calarian felt a strange heady rush at knowing he had the power to break Lars’s heart, but also to heal it. And the best part about this power? Lars had it too, and so did Benji. And Calarian knew that he never wanted to use that power to hurt Lars again, or to hurt Benji, because it’d be like shoving a knife into his own heart as well. Was this what love was? This desire to move mountains to make Lars