Free Divided by Rae Brooks

Surely,
Arthal was aware of that.  She had been to see him much less recently.  The man
just nodded his understanding and there was a flash of sympathy before he
smiled.
    For a moment, Aela just glanced around the blacksmith’s shop
with a smile on her face.  The smell of the place reminded her of Taeru, but
here—she was all right with it.  It was almost as if her brother was here with
her, swinging his sword and laughing at her pathetic attempts to spar with
him.  “I do hope your blades haven’t rusted in your absence,” he chided.
    She laughed.  If she did nothing else, Aela made very sure
to keep up her sword arm.  The ordeal of learning to wield a weapon had been so
complex that she did not intend to give up that skill without a fight.  Veyron still
was unaware of her abilities with any such weapon.  He was firmly opposed to
any woman having to wield a weapon—let alone his daughter!  “I have been
training daily, Arthal, rest assured.”
    “You look well, at any rate,” he said.  To Arthal, Aela was
no princess, and that meant that she was nothing more than a friend—and he
could resume his work.  In Lower Town, losing any moment of work cost time, and
time cost money.  Arthal hammered out the sword with a smile. 
    She stepped forward to get a glimpse of the long sword that
he was beating out.  The metal was still burning and rigid.  “As do you,” she
said.  Arthal was middle aged, with his black hair and large muscular frame. 
Taeru had always said he was a very good man—and Arthal had been more of a father
to Taeru than Veyron had been able to.  Though it wasn’t from Veyron’s lack of
trying, there just seemed to be no connection between the two of them.  Taeru
had done his best to please his father, and he had done so, but there was a
continued disconnect.  “How is business this season?” she asked after a moment.
    “Well enough,” he said.  “Without the imports from Telandus,
or with them getting even rarer with the coming war—more and more people have
wanted to buy my wares.  I’m hoping that they’ll realize that mine were better
from the start.  Bloody Tellanders wouldn’t know a sword if it stabbed them
through the chest—not a real one anyway.” 
    Aela smiled.  Arthal had always had a problem with
Telandus’s blacksmiths creating swords that the villagers preferred.  While he
favored large, heavier swords that required two hands to use, the people of
Telandus tended to make short swords, fit for quick wielding.  Oh, how angry
Arthal had been when Taeru had started wielding those.  Arthal had still agreed
to show him some techniques though. 
    For once, even the memory in Arthal’s presence hurt.  She
missed Taeru more than she could ever understand, and despite that she didn’t
think about it as frequently—she was sure that her pain remained steadfast, and
would never leave her.  Why had Taeru left her?  Why had he felt so compelled
to leave that he had abandoned everything?  And why had he not just taken Aela
with him?
    “How is Ryo?”  Arthal asked.  He most likely assumed that
Aela was thinking of Taeru, and was doing his best not to address the subject
directly.  After all, there was not a damn thing that Arthal could say to ease
Aela’s pain or make this any better.  It had been five years, and she wasn’t
better. 
    She thought about the question for a moment.  Ryo was well
enough.  He was working to keep his father calm as Lavus tended to use every
moment to bring the man closer to rage that would kindle the final straw of the
war.  Ryo’s influence reminded Veyron that this was precisely what Lavus
wanted, and anything Lavus wanted, Veyron didn’t.
    “He is well enough.  Just doing his best to keep father
calm.  Lavus seems to want a war more than any man should ever want a war,”
Aela said warily.  “The sooner he is out of the picture, the better off all of Elyst
will be.”
    Arthal just nodded his agreement and