Page 21 of A Winter Redemption

“How did your talk with your brother go?” Ketho asked.

“Fine,” Jarne said.

“Did he forgive you?” Ketho prompted when no more words were forthcoming.

Jarne stared ahead. “In not so many words. But I explained what happened.”

Ketho couldn’t be certain, but he wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that Jarne’s explanation had not been satisfying to Aryn.

“We haven’t spoken much,” Jarne said. “He is very busy.”

Ketho nodded. Although, he doubted it. It was more likely that Aryn just avoided Jarne.

And Jarne probably knew that.

“He is different from how I remember,” Jarne said.

“How so?”

Jarne clasped his hands behind his back. “I’ve never spent much time with him in the past. I thought I had an idea of who he was. But I don’t think I really know him at all.”

“And that bothers you?”

“I suppose. I thought he looked ill when I first saw him. But I’ve seen him outside with Sero or Sero’s family. I think he only looks sick when he’s around me.” Jarne’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I do not think he likes me,” Jarne said, his voice sounding surprisingly vulnerable.

“I’m sorry,” Ketho said. “But maybe now is an opportunity to mend your relationship.”

Jarne’s spine straightened. “I suppose it doesn’t matter.” All traces of softness and vulnerability disappeared from his voice. “I’ll be going back to Bordertown soon, and if he stays here, we probably won’t see much of each other in the future. Perhaps we won’t see each other again.”

“I guess that’s true,” Ketho said. Although, the idea made him sad.

“I take it you and Sero did not end well,” Jarne said. “He glares at you like he glares at me.”

“We were together for a few months. He wanted our relationship to be permanent. I didn’t. Which I told him before we started.” Ketho shrugged. “So now it’s awkward as I knew it would be. Which is a shame. I enjoyed our friendship. But I am glad he is happy with your brother.”

“They are happy,” Jarne said, expression unreadable.

Ketho almost laughed. Ketho had come to Ores for some fun with Jarne, for a repeat of their last time together. Instead, they’d gotten mixed up in each other’s personal lives, and it all felt morose and depressing.

But he didn’t mind talking to Jarne, and he got the feeling Jarne didn’t have many people to talk to. Truthfully, neither did Ketho.

And even though it was the life Ketho chose for himself, sometimes the loneliness ate at him.

Then he remembered that there were worse things than loneliness.

“Aren’t you cold?” Jarne asked, gesturing to him.

Only a shirt covered Ketho’s torso. “I’m half-oread. So most of the time, it isn’t an issue.” He didn’t want to go into his childhood, when the cold never left his bones, or the times now when a sudden chill ripped through him.

“I thought you might be half-oread,” Jarne said. “And oreads don’t feel the cold? At all?”

“No. Oreads aren’t meant to.”

“I thought so,” Jarne said. “An old woman didn’t seem to be cold, and she was barefoot in the snow. She said it was a gift from her oread heritage. I didn’t quite know what she meant. Then I noticed several in the village, mainly oreads, wearing far too little clothing.”

“You didn’t ask about it?”

“I did have questions. I know so little about oreads.” Jarne’s lips tightened. “But everyone is very busy, and I would not disturb them from their work.”