by Devon Vesper
And then a sickening thought slammed into his mind. Both his father and uncle had the uncanny ability to find him no matter where he hid as if they knew where he was going to hide before Valis even had the inkling of an idea, himself. His only hope, if he remained in the house, was to keep moving. To keep barring and locking doors as he moved through the house, and hope he could get outside before he was caught. Then, he’d have to make it to the stables and far enough away before his uncle could use the awful spell that stopped his horse with a single word.
Could that spell stop Valis as surely as it stopped his horse?
A violent shudder ripped through him starting from the base of his skull and ending somewhere near his ankles. He fought for every breath, wiped the sweat from his forehead with the neck of his shirt as the heat in the attic hadn’t yet cooled from the day’s strong sun. His eyes burned, but he didn’t dare keep his gaze averted from the window. He had to know who came through the trees to know whether to run for his horse, or run for the door to let the Aesriphos inside. Would they need a healer’s care? Had they survived? He hadn’t seen a golden flash in… how long had it been?
His gut clenched as he stared. Waiting was harder than anything he had ever done in his entire eighteen years. His life hung precariously balanced, because if the Aesriphos fell, Valis most likely wouldn’t be far behind. The kindest thing he could do in that scenario would be to dash to the kitchen and slit his own throat, but he knew he wouldn’t have the courage or stomach to go through with it.
The trees swayed in a sudden breeze, ratcheting Valis’ nerves to a new pitch. He let out a breath and gasped for the next. The underbrush near the drive path thrashed more wildly than the rest. Was his uncle toying with him? Did he know that Valis watched, eager to see if his new house guests had returned?
A horse’s dark nose broke through the path, and Valis clapped a hand over his own mouth to hold back his cry of dismay. Was it his uncle’s cruel roan, or was it Darolen’s gentle mare? He couldn’t tell in the darkness, not without any other markings. The beast stopped at the edge of the tree line, just its head and neck sticking out. From this far away, Valis couldn’t even tell what kind of bridle the beast wore.
Everything around him felt insubstantial. The air seemed to be sucked out of the entire attic, leaving Valis in a silent torment, unable to breathe, unable to cry out. He leaned heavily against the windowsill, desperate to raise the window more, throw aside the shutters. Anything to get a better look. At this rate, he’d die of a failed heart from fear and anxiety rather than anything of his uncle’s design.
The horse started moving again, and Valis leaned so close that his nose pressed to the glass of the quarter-opened window, his breath fogging the pane so quick that he had to wipe it away to see anything. Whoever it was didn’t seem to be in any hurry. The beast took slow steps. One more step, and Valis would know the victor. One more step—
Darolen lay across his saddle. His limp body bounced, even with his mare’s careful steps. Something must have nudged it from behind, as it took a few faster steps before stopping completely, just a few lengths away from the line of trees. Kerac’s silver stallion followed, and he wearily took up Darolen’s mare’s reins and led her toward the stables.
Everything exploded around Valis, air rushing back in so quick his head spun. But he didn’t let it stop him. He tore through the house, unlocking doors in a flurry, racing down the quickest routes to the front door.
By the time he made it, Kerac was still inside the stables across the drive. Valis shuddered, but took up his gelding’s reins and led him toward the massive building and inside. He heard Kerac’s harsh breathing, but took his time to unburden his horse, made sure the poor thing was comfortable, cleaned and stowed his tack. When he knew he wouldn’t vomit or collapse, he made his way to the stalls he’d set aside for Kerac and Darolen’s horses.
He came upon Darolen’s stall and leaned in, watched Kerac for long moments as he did what he could for the mare while leaving Darolen on her back. “How is he?”
Kerac turned hard eyes on him, but they softened somewhat when he saw it was only Valis. “He’s magically exhausted. He just needs rest.”
“Was it my uncle?”
The Aesriphos’ mouth tightened into a pale slash across his face and turned his gaze away, focusing solely on Darolen. He nodded, but didn’t elaborate.
“Did he escape?”
Another nod.
Sighing, Valis stepped into the stall. “Do you need help getting him inside? Or if you can manage, the front door’s open, and I’ll take care of the horses.”
The Aesriphos’ shoulders dropped some of their tension. He hung his head. Somewhere during the fight his hair had come loose. Now it hung in silken sheets to obscure his face. Valis itched to move it away, to see if he could help in some way. But a shiver rattled the man’s armor, and he carefully pulled Darolen off his mare’s back and onto his own shoulder. “I have him. …Thank you.”
“I’ll be in soon to help.”
Kerac seemed to either not hear him, or be unable to speak. He said not a word, made no gestures as he headed toward the house and disappeared inside.
Chapter Nine
By the time Valis got into the house, Kerac already had Darolen out of most of his armor. Valis didn’t try to draw the conscious one into conversation. Instead, he went and drew water. Heated it as much as he dared and carried it up to the bathing room to fill the large copper tub. He added buckets of unheated water until it was a decent bathing temperature and headed back to the Aesriphos’ shared room.
Kerac didn’t acknowledge him. He fussed, trying to get Darolen out of his shirt. Rather than standing around being useless, Valis went in and helped where he could, where Kerac would allow him. He murmured softly as he pulled Darolen’s boots and socks off, “I have a bath ready if you want to wash him, or for yourself if you like.”
When Kerac didn’t answer, Valis sighed and hung his head. “I can wash him if you want to take the bath.”
Kerac glanced at him through his sheet of inky hair. Then he lifted his head and took a deep breath. “Something is burning.”
Those quiet words sent Valis into a panic. “Shit! The chicken!”
Was that a smirk on Kerac’s lips? A little light in his eyes? Valis didn’t have time to find out. When he made it to the kitchen, the entire room and part of the dining room were full of thick smoke. He almost burnt himself pulling the roasting pan from the coals. Hissed as he nearly got a face full of steam when lifting the lid. While the skin on the top didn’t look bad, when he flipped the carcass over, the entire bottom looked like a chicken-shaped coal brick.
It took precious minutes to get it cool enough to transition it from the pan to the carving board. More to get it cut to see if anything was salvageable. Apparently it hadn’t burnt quite as bad as he’d thought. The breasts were fine. Most of the leg meat still retained their juices. The wings and the back, however, were charred and hard.
He busied himself picking off as much of the juicy meat as he could, leaving anything that was dry for either reuse to feed the pigs, or for the compost pit. When he was done, he settled the meat into a bowl with a few drops of water, covered it with a large plate, set the carcass aside for making broth later, checked the stove, and flew back up the stairs. Was Kerac all right?
Kerac and Darolen’s door stood ajar, but when Valis peeked in, no one was there. A moment later he heard the slosh of water and let out a gust of breath and leaned his forehead against the door frame. “Do you need anything, Kerac?”
“Did you manage to save anything of the chicken?”
“Everything but the back, a bit of the thighs, and the wings.”
“Go rest, Valis. Lock your door. I must remain awake tonight.”
Valis groaned. “Uncle has spare keys to most of the house. All but the servants’ areas and father’s office spaces.”
He barely heard Kerac’s whimper over the slosh of water, so soft Va
lis couldn’t be sure if it was his whimper or a sound from outside, but he couldn’t place that sound from any animal. He went to the bathing room’s door and placed his hand on the smooth, polished wood. “Are you all right?”
“I will be. He should wake come morning if all goes as planned.” Another round of sloshing filled his pause. “I’ll cast a smaller shield. Just over the house. I’m… not as strong as he is magically.”
“But you’ll go to bed?” For some reason that was very important, and Valis couldn’t figure out why. But something told him that Kerac needed to sleep.
“I will. Go on to bed. I’ll finish up in the kitchen and then rest with Darolen.”
That somewhat satisfied Valis, so he went down and washed up in the rest of the heated bath water that he hadn’t carried up, emptied the pail out the back window, and headed upstairs to his room. Sleep didn’t come for what felt like hours, but when it did, he dreamed of Sovras.
And when he woke, he only remembered a hazy vision of Sovras’ face. But just that one remembered glimpse gave Valis enough strength to rise with the cock’s crow before sunrise and start his morning chores. As he went around, he started at the kitchen entry and took a step back. “Kerac?”
The man looked haggard and worn. He sat in his leather pants, shirt missing, probably still laying wherever he’d tossed it the night before. His hair hung in disarray, more tangles than sleek locks. He clung to a cup of what appeared to be cold tea as there was a distinct lack of steam. Darolen was nowhere to be seen though Valis hadn’t expected him. Didn’t expect him until the noon hours if he woke today at all. But Kerac…
“Are you all right? Did you sleep at all?”
He shrugged a naked shoulder and curled around his tea cup. “A few hours.”
Valis glanced out the window and furrowed his brows. Something punched him in the gut, a strange feeling that he couldn’t name. He took up the tea, dumped it out the kitchen window, and started water for a new pot. “Drop the shield.”
His voice came harder than he’d meant. Kerac flinched. Valis swallowed down his fear and spoke more gently. “Drop the shield. Uncle Rygas won’t be attacking this morning. If he does today at all, he’ll most likely do it this evening when he’s rested and gathered reinforcements.”
“You know his tactics?” Kerac asked. He lifted his head just enough to pin Valis where he stood with hard eyes the color of polished brass.
Valis shrugged and went about measuring out the loose tea leaves, ensuring he made a strong brew without it being too potent. “I paid attention when he and father forgot I existed. I was more of a work animal to father than a human being. You’d be surprised what you say around animals that you wouldn’t tell a human. Uncle Rygas likes to test. He’ll show up and check borders. Wait to corner his adversary. And if he’s run off, he’ll use all the information he has to strike in a different way, a way he knows his quarry won’t expect, a way where he has the best advantage, whether it be more people, a better setting, better weapons, anything that gives him a definite win. He gambles, but always makes sure the stakes are stacked in his favor.”
Kerac studied him for a long moment, then nodded. He said nothing as the kettle started screaming from the stove, nothing as Valis settled the tea pot aside to brew, nothing as Valis rinsed the cup and poured him a fresh, steaming cup of tea. When Valis rested a hand on his shoulder, the man flinched. Valis flinched, too, as that single touch sent electricity skating up his arm, lifting every tiny hair along his arm and the back of his neck. He hissed and jerked his hand away, then set it back down on that muscular shoulder and squeezed.
“Drop the shield, Kerac. It’s all right.”
Valis had no real way to be certain, but Kerac looked like he was about to pass out. He pushed the tea in front of him, careful not to spill it or make any sudden moves that might startle the poor man. All Kerac did was stare at it. It took Valis goading him before he lifted it up and blew across the surface. Just inhaling the steam seemed to bring a bit of life back into Kerac’s eyes, making them more golden than the dull amber they’d become.
Valis left him to it and started breakfast. When he’d finished, he turned around and found Darolen hobbling toward the kitchen. He also came in devoid of a shirt, his pants tied haphazardly. No socks. He looked worse than Kerac by only a small margin. Almost like they were both—
They were both in a battle the night before. That thought made Valis shudder. He plated up their food quick and quiet, set it out on the table. He studied Darolen as he poured the man a cup of tea, trying to judge just how bad off he actually was, and how much of that sagging and lifelessness was just remnants of the grogginess from having just rolled out of bed.
“Darolen?”
The larger man grunted and curled his hands around the teacup when Valis set it before him. He stared at Kerac from across the table for a moment before reaching across it and squeezing Kerac’s hand. “Listen to the boy. Drop the shield, love.”
His voice was gruffer than usual, but the tender note to it that he always held for Kerac was deeper today, more resonant. It made Valis’ heart clench. He did his best to give them both privacy as he plated his own meal. Part of him wondered if it might be best, or at least more polite, if he took his plate and tea either up to his room or out onto the front porch. Either may raise the Aesriphos’ suspicions, so he tried to make himself as small as possible while sitting down at the table in his customary spot between them.
Kerac shivered. A second later he sniffled. Then the dam broke, and he choked on a heavy sob. The sound wrenched something visceral inside Valis, and he wanted to do something, anything to get him to stop crying. Then Darolen was up, the vacant chair pulled close to Kerac’s side. Valis watched as he carefully settled as if he were stiff or in pain, how he reached for Kerac, drew the smaller man against his bare chest with the dark, sparse hair across the broad expanse, and tucked Kerac’s head under his chin.
The way Kerac melted against him, how his sobs turned into barely restrained wails, how he slid off his own chair and awkwardly straddled Darolen’s lap tore Valis’ entire soul to shreds. Darolen didn’t seem to mind. He stroked his fingers through Kerac’s hair, carefully teasing out the knots as he went. He pressed long kisses into the man’s hair, temple, and along his neck and shoulder, his eyes shut and brow drawn down as if Kerac’s every pain and sorrow were his own.
The sight of the two together, wrapped around one another as if they needed each other to live and breathe… It lit something inside Valis that made him rethink everything. The love that shone through them in this rare, private moment… that wasn’t something a person could fake. Valis had never seen such a thing, but to think this could be faked? Valis’ mind recoiled in horror at the notion.
And if they had such love, such devotion for each other…
Could their kindness toward a beaten, angry farm boy be truth? Was it possible?
Valis tore his eyes away and focused on his food. This moment was meant to be private, and even if Valis sat only a few feet away, he could grant them a little of that privacy by not gawking. He only glanced up again once he’d finished his food. Kerac had his face tucked into the curve between Darolen’s neck and shoulder. His body still shook with quiet sobs, Darolen’s hands trying to calm them by smoothing up and down his broad, strong back, kneading the muscles in his shoulders.
Valis finally couldn’t stand it anymore and whispered, “Is there anything I can do?”
Darolen’s gaze homed in on him with such intensity that Valis was almost certain the man forgot he existed while Kerac shattered in his arms. But then those brown eyes gentled and he turned his head to press another long, tender kiss to Kerac’s temple. “No.”
“Your breakfast—”
He huffed a soft breath, not sounding impatient so much as if he wished for something he couldn’t have. “I will re-heat it. It’s all right.”
All the times Valis had raised his hackles and turned these men’s kindness
away, every time he’d turned his back on their help because of his own inability to trust pounded at Valis’ insides. They slammed through his mind, one after the other, the next coming swifter and with more force.
His father hadn’t just beaten him. No, he’d turned Valis into a completely different kind of monster. One who couldn’t accept that this kind of love existed in the world. One who had turned away kindness, hurt a man’s tender feelings, because he was determined to believe they were lying.
Those beliefs seemed so shallow now as Darolen bent his head, pressed his lips near Kerac’s ear, and sang as if they were the only beings left in existence. His heart still tried to harden against it. He knew that people could harbor love for each other while still being cruel to those around them. He wasn’t a stupid little boy. But, seeing them now, wrapped around each other like a human puzzle knot, he felt his defenses crumbling, and it left him even more confused and scared. Not of them so much as of the world in which they existed. If his father was the purest evil in the world, he felt these men might be the purest good. And if that were true, then there had to be things in between, terrible and wonderful things.
And that terrified him more than anything he had ever known.
Chapter Ten
It took the larger Aesriphos a while to heal from his magical fatigue. Valis and Kerac managed to keep him mostly house-bound until he recovered enough to return to the village to resume taking bids for the farm. Though, Valis knew that it was mostly Kerac’s worried frowns and the subtle hint of tears anytime Darolen would get a fire under him that kept the burly, craggy warrior from putting up much of a fight.
In Temperance, a day under a full month since the attack that had drained him, Darolen fetched a high price for the farmstead quickly. He kept his tactics secret and just smiled when Valis questioned him about it. True to their word, Kerac and Darolen remained with him for the month it took to sell the place. Each day, they both grew on him. Darolen was a strong, stout, quiet presence while Kerac was chatty and warm.
