Blood Brothers Chap. 1 Part 3

The next morning, Blayce woke with a splitting headache that had nothing to do with alcohol. He rolled over on the surprisingly comfortable straw pallet to see light seeping through the waxed paper windows, bathing the room in dull sepia tones. He yawned and stretched, wondering why on Earth his head felt like it was about to split in two.
A soft knock on the door to his room brought Blayce back to his surroundings. Grabbing his dagger from its position next to his pillow in one hand and his pounding head in the other, he stood and opened the door. The hallway was narrow and dark, with barely room for two men to pass each other. Standing in the shadows cast by the stumpy candles was a disgustingly cheerful Lukin. He took in his friend's expression and a grin spread across his face.
"How are you feeling this morning?" Blayce glared mutely at him in reply and stood aside to let him in. Lukin settled himself on the room's only chair as Blayce sank back down on the bed with a relieved sigh. The pounding in his head lessened slightly as he sat.
"Since you obviously know the reason my head feels as though it has been cleaved in two, do you think you could explain?" Lukin looked almost sympathetic for a moment, but he ruined the effect by grinning again.
"This room is right above the taproom, remember? The noise always gives guests headaches, so Harold keeps it open as a last ditch bolt-hole for anyone who can't find anywhere else to stay. Most of the time, the girls use it. They can sleep through anything, so they don't mind the noise." Lukin winked at his friend. Blayce looked at him sideways, ready for anything after the night before. Lukin held up a hand. "Strike me down if I lie." Lukin's expression sobered slightly. He reached for the leather wallet that hung at his waist and withdrew a small flask, which he tossed to his friend.
"Herbal tea," he said in answer to Blayce's silently raised eyebrow. His mouth twitched. "Normally, it remedies slightly less innocent headaches. Garrett is going to be asking for it when he emerges, I'm sure." The pair sat in companionable silence, each deep in their own thoughts. Eventually Lukin, staring at his clasped hands, looked up.
"What will you do now? You're welcome at the Rose as long as you choose to stay, but you're not the kind of man who can just sit around a table all day." Blayce considered. Outside the Royal military there were mercenary groups that might take him, but Blayce had no idea how or where to find them. Besides his archery, the only skill he had to sell was his horsemanship, but that was useless without a horse. After a few seconds of expectant silence, Lukin stood. He clapped a hand on Blayce's shoulder as he passed him on his way to the door.
"Think about it," he called over his shoulder as he left Blayce alone to prepare for the day. The other guests were starting to stir as the morning sun's rays grew brighter. Breakfast was being served in the tap room, and even through the heavy scents of smoke, people and alcohol that clung to the corners, it smelled wonderful. Lukin seated himself towards the end of the long table that spanned the great room during the day, helping himself to a steaming mug of dark tea. He didn't drink it immediately, letting it sit between his cupped hands as he breathed in the moist steam.
With his eyes closed, the dark pouches under his eyes were almost as prominent as his piercing blue eyes had been a testament to the sleepless night he had spent on the damp roof of the Rose. After nightmares woke him twice he had given up on sleep and retreated to his childhood hideaway. It was a place where he was absolutely sure no one would find him, where he could let his guard down.
The night before, curled against the Rose's chimney like a child, Lukin had let his memories of his family wash over him- his stepmother Flory's laughing face as she chased him and his sister through the Rose in pursuit of getting them to take their baths; Kiara's conspiratorial grin as they dared each other to eavesdrop on their father's Court; his father, showing him how to spot a Guard from across the marketplace; all of them at a Wintersnight festival, dancing solemnly around a bonfire to welcome a new year.
Behind all the happy memories, there lurked a darker one. Cold metal against his neck, cutting into him. Garrett, unconscious and bleeding on the floor. His dying father's shocked expression as he stared at the knife blade protruding from his chest. Flory desperately trying to shield Kiara from an attacker's blow. Sina dragging him away, trying to get him out of the attacker's view.
All at once, his imagination laid them all out in front of him- dead, broken bodies staring at nothing. His father, Flory, Kiara, Garrett, Sina and others he cared about, bleeding and maimed. Tonight, though, a new face appeared with the old- Blayce's. And even though he knew that Garrett, Sina, Blayce and many of the others were safe, Lukin still couldn't get the fear his dreams inspired in him to fade.
He had lain against the rough stones of the chimney until the red glow of dawn started to lighten the outlines of the houses and shops around the Rose. Before the rest of the inn awoke, Lukin had padded silently back to his room to get ready for the day. With other people around to distract him, Lukin was gradually able to push his dreams to the back of his mind. He was at his best in the mornings, and before long he had shaken off the worst of the nightmares.
Lukin startled as Blayce settled into the chair next to him. His friend had neatened up and emerged looking much better than he had when he had first woken. Lukin hadn't realized he had been lost in thought so long- it wasn't like him to be so unaware of his surroundings. I must be more tired than I thought, he realized, slightly guiltily. He could barely remember a time when he hadn't been at least partially on his guard- too many people hunted him for him to let himself relax.
Blayce looked sideways at his friend when he jumped. It wasn't like Lukin to be disconnected from the world enough to be startled like that. Then he noticed the dark circles under his eyes and made the connection. So Luke hadn't slept well the night before either. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth at the thought of the two of them lying awake, both worrying about the other.
The innkeeper was wary today, unsure of whether Lukin would be his normal, cheerful self or the irritable runaway of the night before. Lukin looked up and smiled easily. He knew he had been wrong to snap at Harold, but he also refused to apologize. He might have overreacted, but he stood by his response. He nodded towards the seat across the table from him.
"Good morning Harold! Nice weather outside, isn't it?" Harold grinned back and settled into the chair. His apron, which had been white originally, was already stained with the several unidentifiable colored streaks. Despite his friendly manner, fear glinted in his eyes.
"'Morning, Lukin, Blayce. Have you heard the news?" Harold looked nervous, his hands clasped in front of him on the table, leaning in conspiratorially. Blayce glanced at Lukin to gauge his reaction to the innkeeper's fear. His friend looked intrigued but skeptical, as unsure if Harold's news was important or if he was simply worked up over nothing. Blayce gave voice to both of their thoughts.
"Heard what news, Harold? What happened?" The round man frowned and sat back, his hands crossed over his belly.