From the Ashes (The Elder Blood Chronicles, #3)(157)

“You are a son of a bitch, Jail,” Jala announced as she re-entered her tent. Jail looked up from her chair and dropped the reports back down onto the table, frowning at her.

“I really didn’t expect to see you back here tonight,” Jail said with a disappointed look on his face.

“What the bloody hell did you think I would be doing, Jail? I’m newly widowed for the second time,” Jala snapped putting emphasis on the word second.

“That hardly counts. You despised Jexon and everyone in the camp knew that,” Jail countered dryly, rolling his eyes at her.

“And Valor is my friend and nothing more,” Jala returned and motioned him out of her seat.

“When we found you in the tunnels. Valor was half dead and holding you against him as if his own life depended on your survival. He had you cradled in his arms, holding his cloak to your wounds to keep you from bleeding out because he didn’t have enough strength left to get both of you out of there. Rather than use what he had left to escape, he would have bled out beside you,” Jail said as he rose, his gaze never leaving hers.

“Because he is my friend,” Jala said firmly as she dropped into her chair.

“Because he loves you, Jala,” Jail corrected firmly. “And you love him, too, or you wouldn’t have been in the tunnels to begin with. Neph told me about your banshee wail and the mad ride through the fighting to reach where Valor had fallen.”

“Jail, I don’t need this right now,” Jala snapped as she snatched a handful of the papers from her table.

“Do you know what it means when an Arovan man cuts his hair?” Jail asked, dropping down in the chair across from her and leaning forward on the table.

Jala looked up at him with a glare and cocked her head to the side. “That he wanted a haircut?” she asked dryly.

“It means he is spoken for and the women of Arovan know by sight that they would be wasting their time in pursuit of him. The earring Valor wears is called a Widows ring. It signifies his devotion to your son in his culture. Were it his true born child the ring would be silver rather than black,” Jail explained watching her closely as she slowly sat the papers back down on her table.

“He cut his hair when Legacy was born,” Jala said softly as she folded her hands before her on the table and stared hard at Jail.

Jail nodded in agreement. “And he has shown no interest in another woman since the day you arrived back from the Darklands,” he added softly.

“Why in the bloody hell are you just now telling me what the earring and shorter hair mean, Jail?” Jala demanded, her voice rising. “Why in the bloody hell did you wait so long to mention those two very important things to me?”

“When should I have told you, Jala? While you were grieving for Finn or during your wedding to Jexon? There wasn’t much time in between the two events,” Jail shot back, his tone filled with irritation. “It wasn’t my place to tell you, Jala. It was Valor’s, but he was waiting for you to heal from Finn, and then he was waiting for Jexon to die, and frankly I’m sick of watching the poor bastard wait.”

Jala leaned back in her chair and rubbed her face. Legacy let out a soft cry from the bed and she stood from her chair, slowly shaking her head at Jail. “Not now, Jail. I can’t focus on this now. I have too much before me already,” Jala said, sweeping her hands toward the reports for emphasis before crossing the room to her son.

“Love is not something that exists in measurements, Jala. You aren’t born with a set amount to divide among those you care for,” Jail said as he rose from his chair. “It comes in different forms, too. What you had with Finn was passionate, but fragile. I watched you sit by the window waiting for Finn to come back so many times. You had love between you, but not trust,” Jail said quietly. “Admitting you love Valor is not betraying what you felt for Finn, and Valor will never leave you sitting by a window waiting. What you have with Valor is deeper and you know that, Jala. You just won’t admit it,” Jail finished and turned to leave. He paused at the tent flap and glanced back at her. “If you only focus on the dark side of life, eventually you will be nothing but dark yourself.”

Jala listened as the tent flap swung shut behind him and continued to rock Legacy against her shoulder. Her son was so big now it was getting difficult to cradle him in her arms. With a heavy sigh, she kissed him on the top of his head and tried to keep her thoughts from straying to Valor. Turning, she paced back toward her desk, rocking Legacy lightly as she walked. The sound of the tent flap opening once more brought her gaze upward and she froze as her eyes fell on Valor.

Valor smiled at her and nodded once. Jala returned the nod and raised an eyebrow at his armor. When she had seen him in his tent he had been wearing a simple tunic and breeches. Jala motioned him toward a chair and watched as he moved silently to accept.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Valor said quietly, his gaze on her son as she continued to pace.

Jala smiled faintly and nodded her head once toward the small cabinet behind him that held the few liquor bottles she owned. She watched him rise from the chair and select a bottle and glass. Her eyes locked on the bottle for a long moment before she slowly crossed the room and carefully placed Legacy on the floor beside Marrow. Standing straight once more she placed herself between her son and the man at the table and cleared her throat. He turned to look at her and frowned at the expression on her face. “Valor hates Firewater,” she informed the imposter in a cool voice.