They worked through all of the wounds, with Kite judging which wounds were most severe and treating them accordingly. By the time they were halfway through, Elarhe found he could also sense the extent of the man’s injuries by passing his hand over the wounds.
Once they had finished, Kite rubbed the man down with a table runner. Elarhe was struck by the man’s lean-muscled beauty. Kite threw the bloody cloth aside and asked Elarhe to help him move the man off the floor.
They put him on the couch in front of the fireplace. Kite pressed a palm against the man’s chest. “Elevate his feet and cover him with blankets,” said Kite and left in a flurry of black velvet. Elarhe did as he was told, pulling pillows from other chairs to put under the man’s feet and wrapping him with blankets from the chest near the fireplace.
He was stoking the fire when Kite returned, arms full of wash basins and towels. Kite unloaded them, then left again, this time, he said, for water. Elarhe sat next to the stranger and rubbed his blanketed arm. Kite set the water jug on the side table and stood behind the couch. He leaned over to brush the silver lock from the man’s closed eyes.
“Was he your lover?” Elarhe asked.
“No, he’s my friend.”
Somehow Elarhe couldn’t imagine Kite with friends.
“You saved him. He still has a ways to go before we can consider him safe, but he would have died of those wounds without you. If you hadn’t been here—” He seemed unable to continue and glanced away.
Elarhe rose to be closer to him. “I’m glad I was here.”
Kite faced him, his breath hot against Elarhe’s lips. “Your magic saved him. Your strong, beautiful magic.” His mouth found Elarhe’s. Elarhe’s entire body pulled tight like a bowstring. A strong, confident tongue slid his lips apart. He opened his mouth and Kite’s tongue slipped inside him like a dragon sailing into its cave. There was nothing hesitant in the kiss. Nothing savage. Nothing needy. It was as sure and calm as if they still kissed like this every day.
Kite drew back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I was so thankful you saved him.”
Elarhe’s arms remained around Kite’s waist. “I know you shouldn’t have but—”
The stranger moaned. They pulled apart. “He’s waking,” said Kite. “Put a basin near his head.” He touched the man’s chin, smiling as the dark eyes flickered open. “Good evening, Cinder. Do you know where you are?”
“Your castle.”
“That’s right. You’re an uninvited guest.” Merriment lightened Kite’s voice. “Spilling your life’s blood all over my beautiful floor.”
Kite’s good humor was lost on the man. “Kite, I didn’t know what else to do. It all happened so fast.”
Kite patted his chest. “You’re all right now, Cinder. Everything’s all right.”
“We marched to the wall. They fired on the protesters. I kept casting healing fogs—Petal came up with that—but it’s difficult—three Aspects. I got hit and some well-meaning person threw a shield on me.”
“He has shield madness,” Kite told Elarhe. “He can’t wear shields because they cause him great distress.”
Blood began seeping from Cinder’s nose. “I teleported out of it and into a volley of arrows. I panicked and teleported here.”
“And if I had been alone, you would have been one very dead indigo. But, luckily for you, I have a green staying with me. Cinder Thornknoll, this is Squirrel.”
Cinder smiled weakly at Elarhe and started to say something. Instead, he spewed violently. Elarhe was fast with the basin. “What’s the matter with him?” he asked Kite. “Did I do something wrong?”
Kite pulled the thong from Elarhe’s hair. “He’s overcast. He used too much of his power. I’ve done it once. It feels like your body is trying to burst through your skin and your stomach is full of hot coals.” He pulled Cinder’s hair back and fastened the thong around it. “He’s going to be sick for a while. He could also die, but since we’re here, we won’t let that happen. Unfortunately, he just has to go through it. There’s nothing your healing spells can do for him now.”
Cinder finally quit vomiting. Apparently, the urge to converse had left him. He whispered an unintelligible curse and sank back on the pillows with his eyes shut. “Is it easy to become overcast?” asked Elarhe, worrying about how many healing spells he had just cast.
Kite sat on the wide padded arm of the couch, leaning over Cinder’s head and smoothing his hair with unexpected tenderness. “No, it’s rather difficult, actually. You’ll know you’ve cast too many spells when your power region begins to hurt. It will hurt worse if you continue casting. This idiot has a peculiar tolerance for pain, and doesn’t heed the warning. Worse, because he’s been overcast several times and lived, he doesn’t seem to worry about it anymore.”
Cinder stirred up with a groan. “New basin,” said Kite. Elarhe thrust a fresh basin under Cinder’s face. Kite took hold of it. “Take care of the old one,” he told Elarhe.
Elarhe disposed of the contents of the old basin, throwing it in the midden heap behind the kitchen. When he returned, he found Kite holding an empty basin while Cinder dry heaved over it. Kite looked up as Elarhe crouched near them. “The good news is he’s empty. The bad news is this will likely go on several more hours.”
Elarhe sat next to Cinder and wiped his mouth. “His skin looks so grey. Are you sure he’s going to be all right?”
Kite’s fingers brushed Cinder’s forehead. “He should be fine in a while. Weak, but otherwise well.”
“How did he get here?”
“Indigos can teleport. He has to either see the place he’s teleporting to or be able to picture it well. Even then, he can’t go far. This is his place in case of emergencies in Darelock. He has a safe place in almost every city. Men like Cinder have many friends.” But a look of concern flicked across his face. He leaned close to Cinder’s ear. “Cinder. Where’s Petal?”
“Undertree,” he croaked.
He relaxed a little. “Does Wolf know where you are?”
“No.”
Kite sat back. “So the last your army of miscreants and malcontents saw of their beloved leader was a pincushion blinking out of sight?”
“Yes, but I had no other—” He grabbed the basin near him and retched into it forcefully for what seemed a long time, his entire body contracting with each spasm. Elarhe rubbed a hand across his back, trying to offer comfort.
“I have to go.” Kite stood. “I have to let Wolf know he isn’t dead and will be convalescing here. Hopefully they haven’t burned the entire city down by now. Will you be all right with him while I’m gone?”
Elarhe was terribly frightened Cinder would die, but he nodded. “I will take good care of him.” As Cinder fell back to the pillows, Elarhe dutifully wiped Cinder’s mouth. “What about your barrier? Can Vulture get through it?”
“He can if I’m riding him. I can get the dogs through, too.” His shoulders drooped. “We’ll talk more about the barrier later. For now, I’m leaving it up for Cinder’s safety, but—we’ll talk later.” He looked defeated and sad. Cinder moaned. Kite’s jaw flexed. “Squirrel, come here.”
Elarhe obeyed.
“Keep doing what you’re doing. Keep his feet elevated. Keep the fire stoked. Make him stay in his blankets. Offer him some water from time to time. When he stops dry-heaving, offer him some spirits. Whatever he wants. And he’ll be sore. Especially here.” Kite laid his hand across Elarhe’s forehead. “And here.” He laid his hand beneath Elarhe’s ribcage. For one shameful moment, Elarhe wished Cinder would be sore somewhere lower. Kite moved his hands to grip Elarhe’s shoulders. “If you want, you can work a healing spell to soothe those places. I’ll be back as soon as I can. And thank you.” His eyes welled with tears. “I can’t tell you how much he means to me.”
Elarhe watched him pull on his boots, cloak, and gloves. “Omen! Fortune!” Kite called. The dogs joined him, and they strode out the door into the snowy night.
; Elarhe sighed as he heard Cinder retching but went to go help him as best he could.
Chapter 22
Cinder began sleeping between retchings, and, finally, Elarhe slept, too, bundled up in a quilt on the floor with his head leaning on the couch next to Cinder’s drawn up knees. He awoke to darkness and a strange hollow sound. The fire was out, the room was cold, and Cinder was—Elarhe crept closer, uncertain. Sobbing.
It was a pitiful sound, as agonizing and dry as the earlier retchings. Elarhe pulled the man’s head against his chest and stroked him as gently as if he were a kitten. “You’re going to be all right, Cinder,” he whispered. He remembered what Kite had told him. “Do you hurt? I can heal you.”
“I’m such a fool,” he said brokenly. “I haven’t been this close to death since becoming an indigo.” Elarhe’s arm muffled Cinder’s gasp. “I don’t want to die. Especially not now. I can’t.”
A shiver of fear went through Elarhe. “You’re not going to die. Kite said you wouldn’t.”
Cinder was disconsolate. “I could have. I could again. I could so easily.”
“But you didn’t. And you won’t. Everything’s going to be all right.”
“I love Petal more than any revolution. All I could think about today was never seeing her again—how I’ll miss the birth of our child.”
Elarhe didn’t know what to say, so he cast a healing spell on Cinder’s forehead. Cinder grew quiet. By the moonlight coming through the windows and reflecting off the snow, he could see Cinder’s eyes, blacker than midnight, watching him in the dark. Elarhe poured a glass of water and helped him lift up to drink it. Reminded by Cinder’s wince, he moved the blankets aside to cast a healing spell on the taut muscles beneath his ribcage.
“Thank you. I can’t tell you how much better that feels. I think I’m a little less morbid now.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about—”
Elarhe tucked the blankets around him; Cinder was shivering. “Don’t be. If I’d been through what you’ve been through today, I’d be crying like a colicky babe.” He patted one of Cinder’s thighs, which felt like stone through the blankets, and left him to tend the fire.
After several unsuccessful tries to light the thing, Cinder said, “Can’t you use your magic?”
Elarhe blinked at him. “For fire?”
“No one’s taught you how to use your powers.” There were notes of awe and pity in Cinder’s voice.
“Red strength, orange fog, yellow shield,” said Elarhe. “My tutor taught me how to do some spells. But he only knew a few. And he was executed for teaching me that.”
“That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.” Cinder was quiet for a moment. Then he said softly, “Would you like me to teach you the yellow fire spell? It’s not difficult.”
“Please.”
Cinder sat up with a sharp intake of breath.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m just sore.”
“Where?”
“Everywhere. Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”
Elarhe frowned. “Are you sure? I can heal you.”
“A little pain lets me know I’m alive,” said Cinder. “Now, yellow’s source is the solar plexus. Like where you healed me beneath my ribs. Put your hand there on yourself and feel it. Yellow spells are fire, shields and barriers, and breaking.” Cinder’s voice, thin and raspy before, had become as full and vibrant as a bell. “Gather your power, think of fire, and point the fingers of your casting hand at the logs in the fireplace.”
Elarhe followed Cinder’s instructions. In a moment, a sizeable fire blazed in the fireplace.
Cinder grinned at him. “If you want to make it smaller, use one finger. Practice on some candles.” He settled back on the pillows and watched quietly while Elarhe looked for the candles scattered about the room.
Soon the place was alight with candle flames.
“Most spells,” said Cinder, “can be cast the way you cast the fire. Variations of a spell can be cast using different gestures. That’s where the real fun begins.”
“You sound like a teacher.”
Cinder laughed. “I was. I taught at the Gyre Academy of Magery in Grandimanderia. I specialized in gestures. Common Gesture and Advanced Gesture.” He paused, considering Elarhe with an arched brow. “Was this your first time healing?”
“Yes.”
Cinder swept a hand from his throat to his groin. “I was covered in arrows. How many were there?”
“Nine.”
“You’re remarkable. Utterly amazing.”
Elarhe shook his head and poured another glass of water for Cinder. “Kite told me what to do. And he removed the arrows.”
A stern note entered Cinder’s voice. “I don’t give praise lightly. What you did would be impressive for any green, but especially for one unused to casting spells. You have a gift, and no amount of modest shoulder shrugging will lessen it.”
Elarhe handed him the glass and sat down, cross-legged, beside the couch. He chewed his lower lip as Cinder drank.
Cinder stared at him. “Kite said your name was.…”
“Squirrel.”
“But that isn’t your name. Tell me your real name.”
Elarhe squirmed. “That’s my real name here. Nobody here can pronounce my given name. I’m from Wakeland.”
“That’s what we call it in the Grandimanderian Empire.” A kind smile lit Cinder’s face. “You call it Ayklinn.”
Elarhe marveled at his pronunciation. “Yes.” He felt overwhelmed suddenly and strained to swallow the lump in his throat. “Yes, that’s right.” He struggled to look in Cinder’s kind jet eyes. “My name is Elarhe.”
“Elarhe.” He pronounced it as if Ayklinnish were his native tongue. “What does it mean?”
“North Star.”
“I like that better than Squirrel.”
“I came here illegally. I had to have papers. They named me Squirrel.” He stared at his hands. “It isn’t a bad name….”
“You are a gifted healer, Elarhe. I’m going to say that every time I see you until you learn to bear it with the pride you deserve.”
Elarhe’s emotions became too much for him. “Please don’t.” He shifted his knees up and hid his face behind them.
Cinder sat upright on the couch. “Elarhe? What’s wrong?” His voice was soft as a baby’s blanket.
“Aben. My best friend. He died on the way here. I could have saved him, but I didn’t know how.” Tears wet his face. He couldn’t stop them. Cinder’s hand stroked his head. Elarhe, so hungry for affection, moved to hug Cinder’s neck.
Cinder embraced him, smoothing his hand up and down Elarhe’s back. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said gently. “You have to remember that. It wasn’t your fault. Blame a society that wouldn’t allow you to explore your powers. Blame ignorant people who killed your tutor. Don’t blame yourself, Elarhe. Never blame yourself for this.”
After he felt he had basked in Cinder’s comfort long enough, Elarhe withdrew, sniffling and wiping his eyes with his knuckles. “You’re going to make a good father.”
“I hope so,” said Cinder, sounding pleased.
Elarhe wiped his hands on his breeches. “I’m supposed to offer you a drink. Something stronger than water. What would you like?” He went to the cabinet where Kite kept his spirits.
“Does he have any dragon’s milk?”
Elarhe threw a grin over his shoulder. “Of course he does. This is Kite, after all.”
“I don’t drink alone anymore. You must join me.”
“Since you insist.” He filled their glasses to the rims. He tried not to spill any as he transported them, with middling success. “Too bad the dogs aren’t here. Omen would clean that up in no time.”
Cinder took his wet glass with a sure, polite hand. “Here’s to Elarhe, who saved my life.” Whisky splashed on their hands as they clinked glasses. They drank and Elarhe laughed in spite of himself as Cinder panted and fanned his mouth. “I forgot my throat wa
s sore from being sick,” he sputtered finally. “The only way to fix that is to drink more.”
Elarhe grinned and raised his glass. “And to Cinder, who’s soon to be a father.”
After swallowing his drink, Cinder said, “Speaking of being a father, I need to get home as soon as possible. But what if I stayed here a few days? I’m in your debt and would like the opportunity to repay you. I could teach you how to use your powers and help you find some books to build your knowledge.”
“I would like that, but it’s Kite’s castle.”
“Kite won’t mind.”
Elarhe wondered if Cinder truly knew Kite at all. Kite minded everything. He washed his anxiety down with dragon’s milk, deciding to let Cinder handle it.
“So.” Cinder drained his glass. “How long have you been in love with Kite, anyway?”
Whisky swam up Elarhe’s nose. He coughed and sputtered and Cinder, obviously concerned, smacked him on the back a couple of times. “How did you know?”
“I saw the way you looked at him.”
“You were barely functioning.”
“I’ve learned to be observant in stressful situations.”
“A few months.” Elarhe winced. “We had a huge argument a couple of weeks ago. He barely talks to me now. I think the most he’s said to me since the fight was today.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t drop in full of arrows sooner.”
Elarhe grinned at him. “Maybe you could do it a few more times.”
“I think I’ll have to pass.” His face grew pensive. “Kite lives in an emotional fortress, Elarhe. He has a good heart if you can find it, but he is extremely sensitive and he has experienced things no one ever should.”
“I sensed that. That might even be part of what I find so attractive about him. I know there’s something warm trapped beneath all of that ice. Something small and vulnerable that needs to be freed. Needs to be loved.”
Cinder’s expressive face had grown calm and still. “Kite is a mass of scars.”
“I thought you believed,” said Elarhe, “that I am destined to be a great healer. Maybe I’m exactly what he needs.”
Lover, Destroyer Page 13
