“Please keep braids to a minimum, and no matted dreads like yours,” Billiam joked, though he reached a hand up to hold some of the golden strands before they could be compromised. He was terrified to let her touch Micah’s sacred head but loved to see them both smiling once again.
The rest of their day’s trek was over hard-packed snow. Shemmy had enchanted around the horses so the poor things were not freezing. Their hooves slipped in the icy parts, threatening the beasts’ knees and ankles, yet they continued along admirably. The clomping sound they made as their hard feet fell through the snow, clapping against stone, reverberated with the painful drumming of Zan’s heart.
They reached the point where they’d need to leave the main road, the beginning of the hidden trail to a cluster of caves. Zan was sure a suitable camping spot could be found up the steep, rocky path. Shemmy and Micah were forced to dismount, leading the weary horses amidst the frost-covered spiny trees. It took them about twenty minutes of perilous hiking until the trail evened out. There they found a small patch of soft earth, clear of snow, with a shallow cave behind it.
“This should be far enough out. We will have a fire lit here until we retire and then I will snuff it out completely. You should all fit in that cave fine, and I’ll tie the horses a few yards away,” Zan informed them with a strange enthusiasm, feigning human so desperately. It should have been clear to him by now how pointless this was, but it was a habit he couldn’t quit. He grabbed the horses’ reins, dropped the saddlebags on the ground, and headed out to tie them up without another word.
Billiam began snapping all the dry branches he could find and collected them under his arm. He headed to the middle of the dirt patch, set down his bunch of twigs, and grabbed his matchbook from his pocket. He was growing their small fire as Shemmy and Micah started unpacking the saddlebags. They were all startled by a loud booming sound, followed by a fat goose that fell from the sky and landed at Billiam’s feet.
Zan appeared from around the side of the cave, slipping his pistol into its holster. “I wanted something other than squirrel for my last meal.”
“I’ll get her ready!” Shemmy ran over, excited to have real food, no matter how depressing Zan’s reason was. Billiam backed away from the flame, allowing her to take over. He had no desire to see her rip the poor bird apart, but he handed her his dagger before walking to the prince.
Micah had been leaning against a tree, desperately trying to recollect something, anything. The stress was collecting in his brow, crumpling his small, lovely face. Billiam grabbed both of his shoulders eagerly and pulled him into his chest. He wrapped his arms around him, feeling worlds better with Micah’s warm breath covering his heart. “The goose will be on the flame soon. We should have plenty of time to talk while it roasts. I love you, Micah, and I stand with you, no matter what.”
Micah returned his squeeze, placing a soft kiss on his chest. “Thank you, Billiam. I love you more than I can say. I am so lucky our fathers picked you as my page.”
“I highly doubt this is what they expected of our relationship, but I couldn’t agree more.” He gave a short laugh before grabbing Micah’s chin. Billiam slipped his tongue along the inside of his top lip, before pulling away from the half kiss slowly. This was a devilish temptation, awakening Micah from his anxiety completely, leaving him unable to resist following his lover. Unfortunately, he led him only to the fire. He sat on the earth and tapped on his lap, motioning for the prince to take his seat.
Micah shook his head and clenched his fists. He had let this brew for long enough. “Zan Ellekós, speak your piece now. I assure you, you very much do not want to lie to me or waste my time. Tell me what is so awful in your memories that you would betray your own king?”
Zan had just finished positioning the goose over the fire, using his blade as a spit. This was undoubtedly going to weaken the sword, but that didn’t matter. He was sure he would not need it after tonight. Getting up from the fowl, he collected himself a bit. He wasn’t sure where to start, so he just blurted out, “I put Billiam in grave danger and refused to get him aid….”
“I said don’t waste my time. I didn’t say be a vague twit!” Micah was growing impatient. He saw a flash of memory: Billiam was crying, saying his name over and over, curled on a stone floor.
My brother took in a deep breath. He looked at Micah, locking those burning sapphire spheres in his sights. He would do this, thorough, like a man, and hopefully get in a swing of his own. Micah would hear the truth and feel pain at his hands, punishment for winning Billiam’s love.
“After we were removed from the castle, Billiam told me of his attraction to men and how he felt for you. I had loved him for ages, never acting upon it, so I took this opportunity to use you to my advantage. I told him if he made love to me, it would be better for you when you were together again. Those are, no doubt, the memories you had, and it went on for almost four years. It was quite a bit of practice for you, not that I was the only one.” He was smiling one of his grandiose forced smiles, yet it was actually genuine. He had always enjoyed twisting the knife, though rarely allowed himself to do so.
Billiam’s eyes bulged as he sighed, not believing Zan would drag him through the mud, even now. He didn’t have to defend himself, however, as Micah jumped in. “Billiam is not on trial, you are. Do not tell me things I already know.” Micah placed his hand lovingly on one of Billiam’s broad shoulders. This showed his solidarity to him but was more so to prove his ownership.
“Fine, if you insist I will skip to the good bit?” He bared his teeth menacingly at the prince, who simply nodded and grinned back, looking equally deranged. “Well, the day you died was the last day of our affair. We had heard of your death from friends still in the castle. I was ordered by my sister to see if I could gather any information on you and the state of your body, if you could be salvaged. There was no way I could get anywhere near your home, and even if I could, I didn’t want you restored. I wanted you dead and gone at last. I had thought to myself, if you were, he could be mine. I made the decision I would return and tell Billiam alone your body had been burnt up. If it were true, there would be no harm. If it wasn’t, I knew that he would be mine for at least until he found out. Viscerally, this brief hope of having him made me willing to say anything. So, I did.”
Zan paused but kept his eyes locked only on Micah’s. Billiam had gone a bit pale, staring motionless into the flames while holding Micah’s hand on his shoulder, dearly. Shemmy came over to sit with her friend, leaning her dirty head of hair on his other shoulder, staring over the roasting goose with him. The succulent smell had begun dancing up each of their noses.
“When I returned, Billiam was a pathetic wreck. I brought him to my parents’ home, up to our tower for some privacy. I told him my lie and let him cling to me, leeching comfort from me. Since I was giving him my sympathy, I thought I was entitled to kiss him, but he pushed me away. I feared for a bit my plan had backfired. I suppose it was quite presumptuous. Yet to my surprise, he turned to me, a pathetic and hollow shell, to say, ‘I suppose it is just to be us now, Zan. Will you still be ashamed of me if I am actually yours?’ or some such thing. I lied to him that I would be proud to be with him, that I could be his strength; he needn’t be anyone’s any longer, et cetera. It was sufficient in breaking his defenses, and he kissed me on the mouth for the first time in ages before giving up.” My brother’s face lit up, against his will, as he remembered a kindness shown to him by Billiam.
“He murmured pathetically that he would be mine, so I ceased my nurturing demeanor. I thought of nothing but ravaging him, having him finally, and that is what I did. I forced myself, all at once and with quick succession. I must’ve ruptured an artery, deep inside him. He was screaming and grew faint below me, so I made myself stop. I lay there with him on the ground, beautiful and broken, as he begged me to get him help. I didn’t want anyone to know of what I was, what I had done.”
Zan’s gaze finally fell upon Billiam briefly
, though it was not returned. “So I told you, Billiam, that maybe you were supposed to be with Micah after all. This brought a smile to your face as you lay in my arms. That, Prince, is the reason I wanted to flee.” My brother exhaled loud, a bit disturbed by the amount of detail he put into his account. That disturbance was short-lived, however. A feeling of vindication grew in his dark heart when he saw Micah’s face contort with rage.
“Yes, that is why….” The prince had his eyes closed, watching the unfortunate scene in his mind. “Your sister felt his pain and ran to your location, where Billiam lay bleeding out. Leke screamed at you while she grabbed him off the floor; she slapped your face as you finally shed a few tears. She was holding Billiam and carrying him away from you, when you heard him tell her to stop, that he wanted to be with me. It was at this time you both learned how much better she was at procuring information. She implored Billiam to hang on, as hope remained. I could still be saved.” Micah finished the awful story and wrapped himself behind Billiam momentarily. He kissed his head and held his body tight before walking over to my brother, strangely content.
“I wonder…,” Micah began coyly, walking small circles around Zan as he looked him over, “who remembers it better? Do you know, Zan, how close he was to death?”
Zan stared straight ahead, avoiding Billiam at all costs and giving up trying to lock eyes with the rotating prince. “No, how could I know that? I am not a medic.”
“That’s funny, because I know!” The prince gained a strange enthusiasm, stopping his movement. He reached out his pale hand and smacked his palm hard onto Zan’s sternum. My brother did not flinch, but could not bring himself to look down at him. “I can remember the beats of his heart, the way they slowed…. If your sister had been only a few minutes later, his light would have been snuffed out. You do know that he had to have a transfusion; quite a risky operation with the lack of skilled hands in Westend. You truly could not make yourself get him help?” Micah looked up into Zan’s distant purple eyes and saw what he thought was a flicker of emotion before they closed hard.
“I want to be human. I hate being different. I hate myself. Even if I had been the one Billiam loved all along, I don’t think I could’ve ever been open about it. I hate the stares that stalk me wherever I go, the whispers and cursing. I could see those amplified a hundredfold with a man on my arm. I could not make myself compromise my need for normalcy, even to save him.” Tears fell slowly, but his face remained calm. My brother had been warring with himself his whole life. The real him and the him he thought he should be were constantly tearing each other apart, and they took Billiam as their casualty.
“I see,” Micah exclaimed, releasing his hand from my brother’s chest and reaching down to grab his groin instead, clenching it tight. Zan’s eyes bulged, and he could barely breathe as he locked eyes with the tiny prince once again. “I know you remember this, but I doubt Billiam ever knew.” Micah stretched up his other arm, barely reaching my brother’s face to push it to look over at Billiam. “You saw the blood, saw the crimson silk trickle out before Billiam screamed from the real damage. You didn’t care. I know also, as he wailed and began to lose his life, you spilled inside him. You were slow to let go for this very reason; for it was the singular best feeling you had felt then and even since. You let Billiam believe it was a failed effort all around, unwilling to share that you reached the purest bliss in his destruction.”
Billiam shot up as the prince finished this revelation. Zan watched on in horror as he began to retch, over at the side of their camp. He could not contain his disgust and hate, as it poured out with the rest of his stomach’s contents. Knowing the worst moment of his life was the best feeling of his tormentor’s made every cell in his body want to purge with him.
Micah tightened his grip, making my brother’s knees buckle. He shrunk slightly as a pathetic yelp fell from his mouth. The prince’s face was no longer contorted. He looked up to Zan, as sweet and lovely as ever while he continued. “I’d like to perform a test, Zan. I want to see if I can know with certainty when you are telling a lie. Give me three truths and one fabrication, mixed all about. I am sure it will be difficult for you to be honest three times, but do give it your best!” Micah smiled, his eyes sparkling up at Zan, piercing a real fear through his heart. Earlier, Zan had assumed he would be killed quickly, but he could now tell the prince had gone quite mad. There was no telling when his terror would be over.
“All right….” Zan’s voice was finally wavering, his vindictive confidence from before replaced with genuine panic. Even so, he was unable to fully humble himself. “I am allergic to shellfish. I once saw your mother naked. I raped Billiam. I enjoy embroidery.” He looked Micah hard in the eyes, waiting to see what the results would be. He was being stupid, egging on the prince in this way.
Micah grinned gleefully, letting go of Zan’s crotch at last and grabbing one of his large hands. He looked over it, stroking the long fingers lovingly, almost erotically. He stopped at the middle finger and held it tight in his hand, while his face showed a burning lust. Zan was confused and scared, but his body was reacting to the prince’s seduction without his permission. Micah lifted the finger to his lips and began to suck it until he finally saw real desire cross my brother’s face. He stopped, smiled around it, and pulled the finger from his mouth. “You tried to trick me, Zan. You really still think that halfhearted consent makes you exempt from your monstrosity? Pathetic!” In an instant, Micah snapped the entire finger off of my brother’s hand.
It looked as if Micah were breaking a wishbone. It sounded similar as well, but with more of the cracking crunch of a snapped twig. Ripping off a human’s finger so quickly and cleanly is a difficult but not impossible task for other humans. However, the idea of a weakling nineteen-year-old boy ripping off a pureblooded faelock warrior’s finger as if it were the petal from a flower, now that is downright peculiar. I suppose human emotions are a force of nature in themselves. From my experience feeling them, I have seen the immeasurable amounts of energy they can produce.
Billiam was back at the fire, his head in Shemmy’s lap. The two of them hardly breathed and made no sound. Nothing seemed real; there was no way they had actually just seen that. My brother followed suit, silently looking past his bloody stump into Micah’s twisted face.
“Your lie was, of course, saying you raped Billiam, for in your deranged heart you believe you did not. Also, I saw my mother naked hundreds of times, and so did everyone in the palace. She was not a very modest queen, so don’t think you are so special.” He giggled deviously, dropping Zan’s hand to his side. Blood dripped from it rapidly and formed red, muddy puddles around him. Micah held the finger he acquired in front of their faces, looking over it a bit before turning to throw it at Shemmy. “Have you a use for this, my dear?”
Shemmy reached up from her spot, not sure at all what she could do with a single finger, but catching it exuberantly regardless. She grabbed it and tucked it away, wanting it out of Billiam’s sight and mind as soon as possible. “Thanks, Prince!” she called before running her fingers through Billiam’s hair. She did her best to comfort him as he remained in his state of shock.
Zan had pain written on his face but continued his desperate attempt at stoicism, raising no contest with Micah. “All right, Zan. You will indeed be executed. Such treasonous rumors spread about the prince are enough for that alone; however, an attack on the king’s future husband will be the reason our people will see you burn. Still, I would prefer for you to die at our home, not here in the middle of nowhere. I will give you a chance to have that. Would you like it, Zan?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Good! These are the rules; they are simple. Lie to me and I get a finger. Run out of fingers, end of the road. Do you agree to my terms?”
Zan nodded silently. This would be best, a chance to say good-bye to everyone before his ultimate humiliation. He thought it would probably be better, but he supposed if he changed his mind, he could al
ways just lie and get it over with.
“Excellent choice, Zan Ellekós. I also get a finger anytime you make any sort of advance or even dare touch my Billiam. He is mine, you understand? The fact you could hurt him so and you are allowed to keep taking breaths is a testament to my incredible mercy. Still… I’d like to ask you something that is troubling me. If you had a chance to ravage Billiam again, with no way you would be caught by me or anyone else, would you take it?”
My brother swallowed hard. He knew he needed to tell the truth, but he couldn’t. He was too vile, he hated himself too much, and he could not bear Billiam despising him even more. He would not admit this. There was always a chance Micah was not as good a lie detector as he thought. “No, he is yours. I will not hurt him.”
“That’s what I expected, you disgusting monster!” Micah shouted and ripped the pinky off the already damaged hand. Zan screamed and fell to the ground, the pain and shock finally setting in. The wishbone was broken again, the snapping twig ringing through all their ears.
“You will never get to touch even a hair on his head, ever again! I wish to rip out your eyes so you cannot even see his beauty, but you will be of no use to me blind.” Micah was shaking while standing over his victim. Zan looked pathetically small in front of the prince, his rage making him tower despite his tiny frame.
Micah threw the finger over his shoulder, and Shemmy caught it easily. She then whispered in Billiam’s ear, “This is pretty freaky an’ all, but it is a little romantic, innit?”
Billiam looked into her face and surprised her with a real smile. “Can you believe how much he loves me? He called me his future husband! It is quite disturbing the way he is doing it, but he is avenging me. He is being so strong!”
Defiant Revival Page 20
