Page 60 of The Poet Empress
Maro took them. They smelled a little stale. “Thanks! That’s nice of you.”
“Remember?” Terren said, when Maro didn’t eat any. “When we were really little, I was never tall enough to reach the banquet tables. You would help steal them for me.”
“Oh, yeah, I think so.” It did sound like something he would have done, when he had been younger and more of a troublemaker.
“You don’t like them?”
He gave the cakes back to Terren. “No, I do. But Doctor Shu says I can’t have sugary foods. I’ve been getting headaches, see. He says that I need to eat healthy to support all the important work I’ve been doing for the nation.” He gave his brother a playful jab on the shoulder. “And besides, you like them more. You should have them.”
“Okay.” He sounded disappointed. But he brightened again when he dug further into his chest. “I brought our swords, too. In case you want to spar. You always liked sparring.” He fished out two oakwood swords, still crusted with mud and dried grass, and set them onto the fur rug as carefully as if they were made of porcelain.
“Oh, neat!” Maro picked one up and turned it around in his hand. It was tiny and far lighter than he was used to. “I haven’t used a woodensword in a long time. My friends and I have been fighting with steel for years now.” He threw it in the air and caught it by its blade. “Master Len said my swordplay was really good, so he graduated me at the same time as Siming, even though he’s a year older.”
“Oh.”
“Why didn’t you bring your steel sword? You should have one by now, even if you’ve been progressing at a normal pace.”
Terren blushed. He said nothing, just kept unpacking. He took out some nightclothes, some books, a second winter cloak. Then he drew out a stuffed tiger, a stone snail, and a wooden whistle in the shape of a bird.
“Hey, I remember those.” Maro leaned in with interest as he watched him set the three of them on his bedside table. “They were your favorite toys when you were a little baby.”
Terren had been in the middle of arranging them but froze.
“I had no idea you still played with them!”
He scooped them back into his arms, turning an even deeper shade of red. “I can keep them under my blankets. That way you don’t have to see them.”
Maro blinked. “Wait. I didn’t mean it like that.”
He began shoving them under his blankets anyway.
“Terren, your friends are welcome here.”
He made all three of them disappear under heavy layers of fur, and then he began piling pillows on top to bury them further.
“Hey.”Maro ran over to him and caught his arm. “Didn’t I say your friends are welcome here? Leave them out.”
He kept staring at the bed, breathing fast.
“Please. I want to see Tiger’s toothy smile too. And I want to hear Little Sparrow sing at night. And Niu Niu, with his beautiful crystal spirals—are you going to keep those to yourself, too?” Maro tore the blankets and pillows off the toys, took them gently into his arms, and arranged them back on the bedside table, the way Terren had it before. “Tomorrow, I’ll tell Commander Remi I want a break in the morning.” He had never asked for a break before, but somehow, it felt important to do so now. “I’ll show you around the fortress. And your friends should come too.” When Terren still said nothing, he made his voice conspiratorial, teasing. “Unless they’re afraid of the cold?”
He finally looked up. “They arenot. Well, maybe Little Sparrow is, just a bit. But she’ll be fine as long as I keep her safe under my cloak.”
Maro grinned. They readied themselves for bed after that, and then he tucked him into bed, climbed into his own, and blew out the last lantern. “Good night, Terren.”
“Good night, Maro.”
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