Page 39 of The Freedom You Seek

I already knew Antas was Dion’s uncle. He also mentioned he worked closely together with what was left of his family and helped with the security of their lands.

He was the oldest of the men—shortly followed by Fig—and the only one of them who had once been married. When he spoke of his wife and infant daughter, who had both passed away many winters ago, the sadness in his eyes nearly shattered my heart. Antas didn’t state it, but I could see he still loved his late wife and daughter and probably would never stop doing so until the day hefollowed them to Udiona.

Although this single example wasn’t nearly enough to convince me to have faith in love as a whole, I kept those thoughts to myself. I liked Antas too much, and intentionally hurting him was out of the question.

But it was infuriating how closely guarded Dion was about himself. He could obviously fight, and saying he was in shape was like saying the Restless Desert was moderately warm. Whenever he handled weapons or was on guard duty, his whole demeanor spoke of discipline and alertness.

On the flip side, I’d never encountered anyone with a temper like Dion’s. Some days, he was constantly on the verge of exploding at the tiniest perceived slight, and I’d turn into the cat that got killed by curiosity if I couldn’t find out what the reason for his short fuse was.

As we set up camp that night, I had a plan. As his uncle, Antas knew Dion best of all the men gathered, and if I was clever, I might be able to extort some information from him.

First, I had to make sure Dion wasn’t following me. He wanted to take a bath in a nearby lake, but even that didn’t mean he’d stop stalking me.

It wouldn’t be the first time that he announced to go somewhere alone and instead used the unholy amount of stealth he possessed to track me to see what I was up to. The three times I’d tried to talk to Thain alone, Dion had tailed me after he’d excused himself for privacy. It was as if he had a sixth sense for when I’d try to do anything he didn’t want me to do. After those three incidents, I’d given up on the idea of talking to the redhead unaccompanied.

Today, though, I was lucky. Dion was nowhere in sight when I found Antas sitting on a tree trunk, working a new string into his bow.

“Hey, Antas. Am I interrupting you?” I asked before approaching him, glancing curiously at how he was tending to his weapon.

“No, Nayana, you’re welcome to sit with me.”

I placed myself on the ground. For a few minutes, I simply watched Antas meticulously measure the bowstring, and I pondered how to ease him into this conversation. In the end, I settled on a direct approach. “Antas, there’s something I simply don’t understand, and I’ve been asking myself all the time—why do you all put up with Dion’s temper? Even Fig seems to tolerate his outbursts most of the time.”

After making sure the new string was securely fixed to the upper string grove of the bow, Antas turned his attention to me. He studied me intently before he finally nodded. “Dion will certainly complain that I am crossing a boundary by discussing him with you, but considering that you often bear the brunt of his moods, I believe it is only fair to answer your question.”

I dipped my head in answer and couldn’t stop the trickle of triumph settling into the back of my mind—my plan was working! If Antas’ reaction was any indication, there was indeed a reason why Dion’s outbursts never resulted in much trouble with the other men.

“You must know that my brother was and is always very strict withDion.”

One sentence in, and my brain was already reeling. I’d thought all of Dion’s family had died, but upon reflection, I realized he hadn’t actually said that—only that most of them were dead. I leaned in as Antas continued.

“If you think Dion is controlling, you better not meet my brother. Sometimes, it seems that my nephew is only breathing because my brother permits it, and that is slowly suffocating him. That’s why it was so important to me that he would join this endeavor. Dion doesn’t see it yet, but he needs a real chance to learn how to stand on his own two feet.”

I dwelled on what Antas had said. To be honest, I couldn’t picture Dion obeying his father or anyone else. Questions burned a hole in my tongue, but I kept myself in check and avoided interrupting the stern man.

“He copes by locking away everything he has to endure. But I won’t go deeper into this. If Dion ever wants to, he will tell you about his issues himself.” Antas sounded serious, and I promised myself I wouldn’t mention this conversation to Dion.

“Understandable.” I was very well acquainted with that special way of coping, and I briefly wondered if he’d ever heard the term compartmentalizing or if I should explain it to him, but then again—no, there was a much more important topic to discuss. “I never expected him to allow anyone to have control over him. I mean, I haven’t been around for long, but even a blind person could see that Dion has a massive problem with authority. So, what’s different with your brother? Why isn’t Dion fighting back?”

“My brother is not a very kind, patient, or reasonable man, and standing up to him is not as easy as you think. So I took matters into my own hands. I had been concerned about my nephew for quite some time, and the same holds true for Fig and Ireas, who both knew Dion already. That’s the reason why we give him some leeway with his temper. It is a relief to see him displaying emotions, as misguided as they are most of the time. He will have to learn to balance himself in the long run, but for now, we are keeping an eye on his outbursts and intervene if the situation threatens to escalate too much. And even if it is hard to imagine, this version of Dion is better than the one he was during the last winters.”

The sincerity in Antas’ words was genuine, and I promised no one in particular to be more understanding of Dion’s outbursts as well, at least temporarily. “Thank you. I’m glad we talked because I get it a little better now. And don’t worry, I won’t mention this conversation to him.”

“I know,” Antas said and returned to working on his bow.

His genuine faith in me warmed my soul. We’d known each other for only a handful of weeks, and still, Antas trusted me not to tell on him. Smiling, but with a lot to contemplate on my mind, I got up, fatigue settling deep into my bones.

As I walked over to my bedroll, Dion was already stalking toward me, wearing a disgruntled expression as he glowered at me. What was bugging him now?

“Time to sleep, Jama.”

“Stop ordering me around.” The commanding tone he used to address me never failed to rile me up, and although I’d chosen to tolerate his moods for a while, I wasn’t willing to let him control me.

Dion narrowed his eyes as his jaw worked. After a long minute of an intense stare-down with no clear winner, he shrugged. “Well, suit yourself. But don’t whine tomorrow that you’re tired.”

Folding my arms over my middle in defiance, I never stopped glaring at Lord Cranky until I wordlessly spun on my heel and marched away to check on the horses one last time. Yes, I was extremely tired, but I had some principles to uphold.

Taking my time to spoil our mounts with some treats, I let the conversation with Antas play on rewind. He’d explained so much yet said so little, and frustration set in. Finally, enough time had passed to get my message across to Dion, and I returned to my bedroll.