by Ginn Hale
Javier stroked the flat plane of Kiram’s stomach. He tugged the loose waist of Kiram’s pants farther down, exposing his hips. The feeling of Javier’s warm breath so near his groin sent a hot ache through Kiram. He folded his arms over his face in humiliation.
“Don’t do that.” Javier pulled Kiram’s arms aside. “Look at me.”
Kiram opened his eyes, expecting to see Javier gloating over him. Instead Javier’s expression was gentle and strangely serious. He bowed down and kissed his lips.
His mouth was hot and pungent with the tastes of cardamom tea and honey. Kiram opened his lips to the pressure of Javier’s tongue. His entire body responded to the sensation as Javier thrust into his mouth. Kiram curled his hands through Javier’s thick black hair and pulled him closer.
He felt Javier’s thigh between his legs, and the intense heat of Javier’s groin against his own hip. Kiram wanted desperately to arch up against him. But the slightest sliver of common sense fought against the idea. He had promised one kiss and was giving much, much more.
Kiram shoved Javier back, harder than he intended. Javier almost fell off the bed but caught himself. He looked momentarily stunned and then he took in Kiram’s expression and laughed.
“Don’t glare at me. I’m not the one who interrupted your pleasure.”
“We agreed to one kiss. That was all.” Kiram pulled his legs up, though he was sure Javier knew just how aroused the kiss had made him.
“That was all for a page of the diary.” Javier wrapped his hand around Kiram’s bare ankle and slowly slid his palm up along the inside of Kiram’s thigh. “But we could have a little more for ourselves, don’t you think?”
“No.” Kiram pried Javier’s hand off his leg.
“And why not?” Javier demanded. He was still smiling but his voice had an angry edge. “You think I can’t see that you want me? Every inch of you is up for me.”
“Whether I’m aroused or not is none of your business, Javier.” Kiram tried to sound firm despite his embarrassment. “I’m not a toy for you to play with and I’m not one of the whores at the Goldenrod whose body you can buy with a few pennies.”
“No, you charge much more and put out far less.” White sparks jumped across Javier’s left hand but Kiram refused to be intimidated.
“I gave you exactly what we agreed upon.” Kiram returned Javier’s hard stare. “In fact, I gave you better than you gave me. You know I’m not going to dishonor Yassin’s name by writing about what you showed me.”
“Oh, I see. So, you won’t spread your legs unless I can give you something that will get you a better grade.”
“No! You are not going to pretend that I’m just a greedy whore.” Kiram was shocked at his own anger. “That is not why I stopped.”
“No, I’m sure it wasn’t the only reason.” Javier suddenly stood and glared down at Kiram. “You like to pretend that you aren’t afraid of what I am but when it comes down to it, you’re as much of a coward as Holy Father Habalan.”
“Are you some kind of moron? I’m not afraid of your twinkly little sparks of hellfire!” Kiram was rewarded with a look of surprise from Javier. He took advantage of it to get to his feet. He met Javier’s glower with his own unflinching stare. “You want to know what scares me? It’s your shallow-minded Cadeleonian law and your bigoted Cadeleonian church. You like to pretend that they don’t mean anything to you but you still go to penance every single day.” Kiram jabbed Javier in the chest with his forefinger. “I may find you handsome and I may enjoy your touch but that doesn’t mean that I want to be lashed or imprisoned for corrupting you with my Haldiim ways. And you know I’m the one who will be blamed if we’re caught. No one is going to accuse you. You’re the Duke of Rauma. So, yes, I am scared. But I have every reason to be scared and I have every right to refuse you.”
Kiram felt suddenly exhausted as if he had expelled all his strength and fury with those last words.
Javier stood where he was, his expression drained of anger. He studied Kiram as if he had somehow become a new person.
“You’ve got quite a temper,” Javier said at last.
“You aren’t exactly sedate yourself.”
“I know. I’m too used to getting my way.” Javier shrugged. “Not many people are willing to refuse the Duke of Rauma, you know.”
“Yes, I gathered that.”
For a long moment Javier studied Kiram in silence. Then he looked down at his hands.
“So, this is how it has to be between us?”
“I think so.” Kiram could no longer meet Javier’s gaze. He looked down at his bare feet and at the coiling symbols on the floor. He wanted to say something else, to somehow tell Javier that if circumstances were different, then…
There was no point; the circumstances were exactly what they were.
He wished suddenly that he had never asked about Calixto’s diary. The knowledge, like his desire for Javier, did him no good and yet he could not forget it.
“I have to find something else to write about for my history essay,” Kiram said at last.
Javier walked back to his desk and sat down. He didn’t pick up Calixto’s diary. Instead he took out his penknife and cut a new tip for his quill. “If it has to be a biography, you might try Nusrat Kir-Miakah. He was the guide who escorted the Sagrada heir and his war master to safety all the way from the academy to the western hold.”
“Was he Haldiim?”
Javier nodded. “There’s a little biography on him filed with the hunting and trapping texts in the library.”
“I’ll read it. Thank you for—”
The rest of his words were drowned out by a loud beating against the door. An instant later Elezar shoved the door open and leaned in from the hallway, though he came no farther, since even he was hesitant to step into the room where Javier slept.
The arbitrary nature of Cadeleonians’ superstition was absurd, Kiram thought. They would eat and wrestle, ride and fight with Javier but were terrified of what might lurk in a room where he slept, as if his dreams might leap out from under a pillow and grasp them. Normally Kiram found it all amusing, but this afternoon it only irritated him.
“No need to look so dour, my friend.” Elezar’s voice boomed through the room. “Master Ignacio has invited us out for a ride.”
Kiram rolled his eyes. Javier said nothing but he pulled on his riding boots and began lacing them.
“A ride to the Goldenrod, no doubt,” Kiram murmured. Elezar’s ecstatic expression told him as much. A week ago Upperclassman Atreau had informed Kiram and Nestor that Master Ignacio’s afternoon rides were, often as not, an excuse to visit prostitutes. Apparently, the war master had taken it upon himself to ensure that the older students’ physical desires found release, lest they resort to desperate acts of abnormal carnality.
“Who knows how far we may wander in the pursuit of healthy male exercise,” Elezar responded happily. “Don’t be sullen about it, Kiram. Once you’ve been blooded in a tournament you may be asked out on a ride as well.”
“I just can’t wait,” Kiram muttered.
He didn’t watch Javier leave with Elezar. Instead he sat down at his desk and wrote a letter to his father assuring him that he was staying out of trouble and doing all he could to keep his grades up. After he was done with it, Kiram ripped it apart and threw the shreds into the cold grate of the fireplace.
Chapter Twelve
Battle practice with Javier the next day was incredibly difficult. Kiram struggled not to notice the heat of Javier’s hands on his bare chest, or feel a thrill as the two of them grappled in the wrestling ring. More than once he completely lost his concentration while gazing at Javier’s mouth and remembering his insistent kiss.
If the same desire troubled Javier, he gave very little indication of it. Only once, as Kiram arched beneath him struggling to break a hold did he notice a strange catch in Javier’s breath. But then Javier pinned him down—hard—against the mat and stepped back, calm and collecte
d.
Kiram wondered at Javier’s ability to so completely sublimate his desire. Of course, being Cadeleonian, he’d doubtless had a lifetime of practice. There was also the fact that he, unlike Kiram, could turn to the prostitutes at the Goldenrod for relief.
That night Kiram left the Hellions’ table early and found respite in the cold pistons and bolts in his work shed. He returned to the room he shared with Javier just before the night warden rang the last bell.
If Javier thought anything of Kiram’s absence he said nothing and Kiram guessed that Javier understood that keeping a distance between them was for the best.
The next day Kiram claimed illness to avoid another frustrating battle practice, but that only resulted in Javier appearing in the infirmary to inform him that they would now have to make up for the practice on Sacreday—just the two of them and Master Ignacio.
From Javier’s scowl Kiram knew he’d made a poor decision and even Scholar Donamillo shook his head, as if nothing good could come of a private session with Master Ignacio.
He had not feigned sickness again. Instead he got through the next week of battle practice by focusing on his technique. He met Javier’s gaze as little as possible and took care not to stand close when they weren’t training. Up in their shared room during the evening hours, Kiram found himself staring at Javier and obsessively brooding on the memory of his touch. Every time Javier glanced up from reading, Kiram felt the blood rise in his face.
If he stayed here, he was going to make a fool of himself, or worse, endanger his entire future. He had to distract himself from Javier’s effortless temptations.
He spent the next two weeks in self-imposed exile in his work shed assembling his Crown Challenge mechanism. Each night he wandered back to the dormitory exhausted and simply dropped down to his mattress, still reeking of gear oil and ash. Twice he missed curfew while struggling with the proportions of his steam chambers. The night warden dragged him up to his room and threatened to report him if it happened a third time before slamming the door and leaving him fumbling toward his bed in the dark.
“Only an idiot would get himself caned for a mechanism.” Javier’s voice floated through the stillness.
“I’m not an idiot,” Kiram assured him.
“Then don’t act like one.” Javier sounded petulant and Kiram wished he could see his expression. “You don’t have to hide from me. I’m not going to attack you.”
“I know.” Kiram pressed his face into his pillow. “But who’s to say I won’t assault you?”
Javier’s soft laugh was the last thing Kiram remembered before he fell asleep.
The next afternoon Javier and most of the other Hellions went riding with Master Ignacio. Kiram knew he had no right to resent the excursion, and yet he did. He decided a walk would do him good. He chose the path through the orchard.
The crisp autumn air was colder than the more southerly climate Kiram was used to. Many of the apples in the orchard were turning gold and red. They reminded Kiram of the sunset skies over Anacleto. It had been a long while since he had simply walked among the trees and felt the ground beneath his feet. He was half tempted to pull off his boots as he would have in one of the sacred groves at home, but he wasn’t among Haldiim and any Cadeleonians coming across him would probably think he was suffering from a brain fever.
Kiram contented himself to walk along the white pebble path that cut through the orchard and curled around the chapel. He listened to the songs of birds and crickets and tried not to feel homesick. He’d chosen to come to the academy, knowing that it would be strange and challenging, he reminded himself. This was what he wanted—what he needed to do, if he was going to prove himself.
Distantly he heard the gurgle of the stream and the voices of first-year students splashing through the cold water. As he wandered, the apple trees thinned to stands of white birch and oaks. Sprays of wildflowers and brambleberry bushes spread between the trees.
Then he came across a delicate, wrought iron fence and beyond this a wide field of red clover and gravestones. The two graves nearest Kiram were engraved with doves and the words Loyal and Faithful. Kiram couldn’t help but think that the words seemed more appropriate to pets than to people. A third grave was inscribed with a Cadeleonian woman’s name and the designation of Academy Cook. Kiram wasn’t sure if the dates below represented her lifespan or the duration of her employment.
A loud peal of laughter drew Kiram’s attention farther down the neat rows of graves. A lean young man dressed in the academy blue crouched on the mound of a grave. His black hair hung over his eyes and he shoved it back brusquely.
For an instant Kiram thought it was Javier and he was unreasonably glad to see him. But as soon as the thought came to him he discounted it. Javier never laughed like that. It had to be Fedeles.
As if to confirm Kiram’s thought, the young man broke into wide grin and crowed out the names of several horses. Then he swung up a silver trowel and plunged it into the earthen mound of the grave. He hurled up a spray of dirt and mangled clover.
Alarm shot through Kiram as he realized that Fedeles was digging up a grave, desecrating the dead.
“Fedeles! You can’t dig there.”
Fedeles glanced briefly to Kiram but then returned to his work as if utterly unaware that he was breaking common Cadeleonian law. Kiram raced across the field, jumping over the low mounds where bodies lay. He reached Fedeles quickly but not before Fedeles had opened two large holes directly beneath the headstone. There were flowers all around Fedeles’ feet. Most of them looked as if they had been recently ripped from the ground. Their roots still gripped dark clods of dirt. The name on the headstone was Victaro Irdad, the groom who had died the previous year.
“Firaj,” Fedeles sang out to Kiram.
“What are you doing?”
“Flowers,” Fedeles cooed and he stroked the head stone with a muddy hand. “Flowers for Victo. He won’t see them but I brought them. I brought them…” Fedeles’ expression went slack and he leaned against the headstone allowing the trowel to fall aside.
Kiram remembered Nestor telling him that a groom had been torn to pieces. Secretly, everyone blamed Javier but no one had seen it happen. When Nestor had first told him the story, Kiram had simply accepted that Javier was responsible, but now he had seen how well Javier could restrain himself and the white hell. He couldn’t believe that Javier had killed the groom, not even by accident.
But it unnerved him to think that someone had and that no one at the academy spoke of it.
“Was Victo a friend of yours?” Kiram asked Fedeles gently.
Fedeles dug into his jacket pocket and brought out a small wooden figurine of a horse. It fit in Fedeles’s palm.
“Lunaluz,” Fedeles said quietly. “I made it for Victo but he’s gone now.”
“You carved this?”
“Haldiim murdered him,” Fedeles whispered the words through his gritted teeth.
“What?” Kiram couldn’t quite believe what he thought Fedeles had said.
Fedeles’ expression jerked again and for a moment he seemed unsure of where he was.
“I brought flowers for Victo.” He turned away from Kiram and quickly gathered the uprooted flowers. He pushed them into the holes he had dug so that their roots were sticking up, exposed to the air and the blossoms were down in the dirt. “Victo can see them now.”
“Fedeles,” Kiram watched him closely, “you said something about Haldiim just now. What was it?”
Fedeles shook his head as if dismissing Kiram’s question completely. He lay down on top of the grave and nestled his face into the red clover and earth. “I want to go.”
“You should.” Kiram straightened. “We both should.”
“No,” Fedeles replied. “I want to go down there. I want to tell him, I didn’t mean it.”
“You didn’t mean what?”
“It’s a secret.” Fedeles rolled onto his side and gazed at Kiram. For a moment he looked calm, almost at e
ase. Kiram was always surprised by how strongly Fedeles resembled Javier when his features weren’t contorted with grins and grimaces. The two of them could have easily passed for brothers.
“I shouldn’t have told him.” Fedeles closed his eyes and lay still.
“We can’t stay here,” Kiram said at last.
Fedeles opened his eyes and smiled as if he were only half-awake.
“Firaj.” Fedeles patted the ground, inviting Kiram to sit down beside him.
In other circumstances, Kiram might have sat down with Fedeles and attempted to make some sense of his words. But today he had no desire to linger in a graveyard or risk being accused of disturbing the Cadeleonian dead.
He turned away.
“I’m leaving whether you come or not,” Kiram called over his shoulder. He heard Fedeles scramble to his feet. By the time Kiram had reached the fence, Fedeles had fallen in alongside him. He gently nudged Kiram’s elbow to get his attention.
“What?” Kiram tried not to sound annoyed but he wasn’t sure he succeeded.
“Look.” Fedeles stepped off the path and pushed aside the thick mass of wild grasses at the base of a tree. Kiram was surprised to see a small horse carved into the tree trunk.
It wasn’t just a simple outline cut into the bark, but a delicate bas-relief, like something that he would have expected in a temple.
“That’s really well done, Fedeles.” Kiram looked at him. “Did you do it?”
“Yes.” Fedeles grinned, looking genuinely pleased.
As they walked back to the academy Fedeles pointed out other carvings of his. All of them were small and hidden from casual sight. But they were each masterfully formed and not all of them were horses. Dogs and birds as well as a few tiny human figures peered down from the branches of trees and peeped out from knotholes.
Kiram smiled at one man who was clearly picking his nose.
“Does anyone else know about these?” Kiram asked. He thought Nestor would love them. Fedeles shook his head.
