Page 9 of The Song of Sunrise (The Prentice Teller #1)
“It’s one of my favorites.”
“You have good taste.”
“No he doesn't!” Leaf hollers from the bathtub.
“Says the man who made custom rings instead of a cuff!” Castor yells back.
I hadn’t noticed the thick silver cuff around Castors left wrist before.
It is adorned with three white channeling stones.
Three! He must be a powerful Watcher in order to be able to harness that much Source magic.
Even some of the greatest heroes in Tellings are just second-stones.
I mask my awe by quickly shoveling a few grapes into my mouth.
“Hey, I love my rings, thank you very much. They go with anything!” Leaf calls back from the tub.
“Looks don’t matter when you break your fingers punching someone.”
Leaf has no retort as he slops from around the half wall with a towel around his waist.
By the Sun Goddess.
Leaf looks like a sculpture, a work of art. His tall, dark body is lean and rippled with more abdomen muscles than I knew existed.
“It’s all yours Cas,” Leaf says.
Leaf waits until Castor’s clothes are added to our pile in the corner before pulling on a string near the door labeled “laundry,” signaling the servants down below via a series of bells.
Within a few minutes, two very flirtatious laundry workers grab our clothes, making sure to flounce extremely close to Leaf as they pass.
Giggles erupt the moment they close the door.
Leaf seems utterly undisturbed, plopping another grape into his mouth.
Castor joins us after his bath—unsurprisingly the most efficient of us all—pushing back tendrils of wet black hair from his eyes. Pale slabs of muscle flex with every step. Where Leaf is lean, Castor is pure bulk. His waist tapers to a “V” that disappears into his towel, wrapped sinfully low.
Castor helps himself to a slice of bread and fills his goblet before sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace.
I take a long sip of wine and try not to think about anything but the two beyond gorgeous men lounging a few feet away from me.
We have been traveling together for a few days under chaotic circumstances.
Perhaps taking the time to properly eat and bathe without running from Underlings or nomads has helped me truly see them from a new vantage point.
Okay, and maybe this food is helping my mood. Slightly.
“Is now the time when you finally Tell for us?” Leaf pleads, as per usual every night. “Any song or Tale will do. I’m not picky.”
For the past two days on horseback, I’ve kindly passed on Leaf’s consistent probing to Tell.
The idea of it just… hurt too much, like I would never be able to use my voice in that way again.
But Marrow would not want that for me. He would want me to keep practicing our art. Keep our history—our truth—alive.
I gulp down the rest of my wine and Leaf refills it immediately, already slipping into a wordless rhythm as if we’ve been friends for ages rather than strangers bonded by trauma.
“How about The Cave of Silence ?” I ask. “It’s not a fully finished Tale just yet. Marrow was working on it before he… died.” I choke on the last word.
“ The Cave? The actual Cave of Silence where the last Starwatcher disappeared?” Leaf cannot contain his excitement.
“You want me to Tell it or what?”
Their heads nod eagerly.
I lean forward on my chair and alternate looking between Castor and Leaf, then begin.
The Cave of Silence is a partially complete story—not yet in Teller anthologies—where one of the highest ranking officials of the Watch’s Elder Council simply disappears—a seat that remains unfilled to this day.
Marrow had been workshopping it when he arrived in Goldenpine years ago, obsessing on collecting the details of what happened for years.
Castor and Leaf hang on every word, and I have to admit, this feels amazing.
My vocal cords hum with the familiar rhythm of the words I practiced so adamantly.
Storytelling is something I’m good at. It centers me, provides me an escape from reality, and most importantly, allows me to be in control: of the room, of the mood, of the people around me.
Lean into your power, Akemi , Marrow would always encourage. By the Watchers’ well timed “oo’s” and “ahh’s”, I know I have done the story justice.
A few stories, uncontrollable laughter, and too many glasses of wine later, we finally call it a night. Though we had been sleeping practically fused to one another as we traveled, the singular bed nudged against the wall feels… small.
The three of us stand at the edge of the quilted mattress in silence, holding our respective towels around our bodies. I shift my weight from side to side as I blush, realizing exactly how almost naked we have been this whole night.
“I’ll sleep by the fire,” Leaf offers at the same time Castor says, “Right here is fine for me,” pointing to the small rug on the floor space between the bed and the door.
“I’m the lucky winner it seems.” The bed squeaks as I tuck myself in. After sleeping on the hard earth, even this old, coiled mattress feels amazing, like I’m floating in my favorite river near Nic’s old hunting cabin back home.
Home. Home .
I reach for my pendant necklace, tracing the familiar edges and itching to mark the walls around me with a tally to denote the passing day—a habit of mine from childhood that I’ve never quite kicked.
Leaf grumbles something under his breath as he aggressively punches the pillow into an acceptable shape for his new makeshift bed by the fireplace.
“Night,” Castor grumbles, already curled on his side. No blanket or pillow in sight.
I prop myself on an elbow, turning toward Castor, clearly the worst off of us all. “I can share, if you’d like. There is enough room up here.”
His broad shoulders still. I’m grateful he is facing the other way so he cannot see the splotches heating my cheeks.
“Erm, goodnight,” I say quickly before he has the chance to answer and tug the quilt to my chin.
Perhaps it’s the proximity to the fire that causes Leaf to join me in the bed after a couple of minutes. He silently nudges me to the side and slips in.
And perhaps it’s the hard floor that eventually drives Castor to wordlessly climb into the bed on my other side.
Finally, I find sleep after an hour of silently watching the flickering firelight and drift off to the sounds of heavy breathing from the two Watchers snuggled beside me, who I am starting to enjoy being around.
Which makes my decision to leave them tomorrow harder than I was anticipating.