[This post is from Matt’s point of view.]
“That sounds like it would be like me trying to convince Sif of anything she didn’t want to be convinced of,” Thordin said, then smiled. Matt managed to smile back, shaking his head.
“I’m going to go out on a limb and say that’s probably an accurate assessment.”
“Likely.” Phelan stared off into space for a few long moments, looking thoughtful—and distant enough that Matt paused in his work to peer at the other man.
“You still with us, Phelan?”
“For the most part,” he said, then smiled. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”
“Clearly.” Matt’s gaze drifted back to his work, but he wasn’t ready to start hammering again, not yet. He waited, hoping that Phelan would elaborate—would reveal even the barest glimmer of what had been going through his head. As the seconds ticked by, Matt became less and less confident that Phelan was going to share.
Thordin’s patience wore through before his did. “What’s eating at you now, Phelan? Tell me it’s not more of the same.”
“No, not really.” Phelan leaned back, all pretense of starting to sharpen swords apparently forgotten. “Thinking about my sister—about my family. I have as much reason as anyone to hate your wife, Matt, and I can’t bring myself to do it. Especially not after what she did for us out on that field. If nothing else would have convinced me, her stopping Olympium and turning them back would have done that.”
Matt closed his eyes and exhaled. She doesn’t have another one of those in her, that’s for sure. “At least it’s over.”
“It’s not over,” J.T. said, his shadow crossing the doorway. He was pale, that much Matt could tell, and it wasn’t a trick of the light. “They haven’t gone far and I don’t think they’re done with us. Not by a long shot.”
