The Rusted Sword

by R. D. Hero

  Moshe was leaning over him, scowling. He was still in his bedclothes. His loose cotton shirt hung low enough around his neck to reveal the full landscape of his chest—his collarbone and his nipples. Raleigh found himself dry-mouthed, his gaze drifting slowly and hungrily up to Moshe's face and those blazing eyes.

  "What have I done now, darling?" Raleigh asked, and he half-expected Moshe to choke him in response.

  "Tampered with my correspondence," Moshe replied, the words said in a hiss. "I just now, on the day I had planned to leave for Marvle-Dein, received a response from Frederick." His eyes narrowed. "Or rather, you received a response."

  He shoved a slip of parchment down onto Raleigh's chest. With a drawn-out sigh, Raleigh picked it up and read the contents, the duke's rather tepid welcome. A grin spread on his face at the idea that he had quashed the bastard's hopes so well.

  "Aren't you pleased," Moshe said darkly from above him.

  Raleigh looked up, still smirking. He tossed the letter to the side, and then—

  He did nothing. His smile faded.

  A long time ago, he would have trapped Moshe with his legs, pulled him in, and gripped his arms. He would have kissed Moshe, and then flipped them around so that it was Raleigh looming overhead. He would have kept kissing, nipping away at Moshe's indignant protests until he was docile with exhaustion, having struggled himself into defeat. And then Moshe would have spread his legs so beautifully for Raleigh, would have gasped and clung to Raleigh. But not now.

  Raleigh averted his gaze. There was silence above him.

  Moshe pushed away from the bed with a low curse. "Fine, then," he said snappishly, "you've agreed to come, and I am leaving today. Unless you were planning on traveling there without me—"

  "No," Raleigh said, his voice weak. "We shall go together." He sat up, masking a grimace from the jolt of pain at his knee. Rubbing it, he looked over to see Moshe rifling through his wardrobe and pulling out clothing. Raleigh was about to tell Moshe that he didn't have to, that Peter could attend to the packing, but his voice caught in his throat as he watched Moshe's beautiful hands slide down Raleigh's vests and he felt the touch on his own chest.

  How he longed to call Moshe to him.

  With a sigh, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, shivering when his toes touched the freezing stone floor. "Shall we go by horse?"

  "Were you planning to walk?" Moshe replied, his tone prim. He had already laid out several brocade numbers that Raleigh wasn't even aware that he owned. When, exactly, Moshe thought Raleigh would be wearing such clownish garb was a mystery.

  He didn't answer Moshe, who paused in his movements for a brief moment before turning to look at Raleigh. When their eyes met, Raleigh just glanced away with a shrug. "I was merely curious as to whether you wanted to take the carriage …"

  As Raleigh trailed off, silence descended again like a chill. The door to his wardrobe slammed shut, and he jolted upright, his gaze torn back to Moshe.

  Moshe's back was stiff, his shoulders set at a tense line. He didn't look at Raleigh when he muttered, "Fine."

  Clenching his knee, Raleigh drew in a breath. "Fine, what? Which? Horse or carriage?" He inwardly cringed at his own insistent tone, those breathless words that begged for approval. How pathetic Raleigh must seem, to drop all pretense of authority in his own home just for the barest scraps of affection. How pathetic he must seem to Moshe.

  But Moshe showed no sign of even responding to Raleigh's query. His lips were pressed in a thin line, his shoulders set as he folded up a thick winter coat. Such flagrant insolence …

  Yet Raleigh did nothing about it. Upon standing, a brief flicker of pain must have crossed his face, because Moshe suddenly stepped to him. "No," Raleigh rumbled, holding his hand up. He bent a little to massage his knee and fought off the heat that would make his cheeks redden. To have Moshe witness this weakness made Raleigh feel sick inside.

  "We should ride easy," Moshe said softly. The gentle tone prickled at Raleigh's gut.

  "For what reason?" he said, standing straight. When he did, he towered over Moshe. This alone was somewhat of a salve to his pride.

  But once again he almost crumbled. The expression Moshe was showing Raleigh—the spark of annoyance in his eyes, the small, frustrated smile that Raleigh knew meant Moshe was thinking of what a boorish man he was—was so familiar. Without thinking, Raleigh reached forward to rub his thumb over the crease between Moshe's eyebrows.

  When Moshe's lips parted with surprise, Raleigh pulled his hand back and sighed as he rubbed the back of his head. "You're right, Moshe," he said. "We will take our time."

  *~*~*

  Midpoint on their journey, they faced the first true snowfall of the winter, and Raleigh made the decision to stay at the inns they passed along the road from then on. When they were situated in their lodgings that first cold night, he found himself shifting on his feet and awkwardly glancing from the bed to Moshe, wondering if he should have secured separate rooms.

  Apparently Moshe had no such worries. He was pulling the furs back after having changed into his nightclothes. Pausing, he raised his eyebrows. "Is there something wrong?"

  "No," Raleigh replied.

  Moshe stared at him expectantly. So Raleigh unlaced his tunic, pulling it off. When he was wearing nothing but a pair of light cotton trousers, he moved slowly to the bed, watching as Moshe slid under the covers. Following suit, Raleigh settled down on his side.

  "It's quite cold," Moshe said, somewhat muffled.

  After a beat of silence, Raleigh shifted towards him, dropped an arm over his waist, and pulled him close. "Then shall we keep each other warm?"

  Moshe simply murmured a reply, but he seemed content, rolling around so he could curl in against Raleigh. For a moment, Raleigh fancied that he might try and kiss Moshe, to see where this rare moment of intimacy would go. He could see it all in his mind's eye, them coupling while the snow fell outside. The ache throbbing from his knee kept him frozen, however. Made him bitter. If Raleigh attempted any sort of the play he and Moshe used to take pleasure in, the roughness that Moshe begged for, that damn knee would ruin the moment.

  And just like that, the fledgling heat of arousal in Raleigh’s gut sputtered out.

  Fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. "You look so harsh when you frown like that."

  Raleigh, speechless at Moshe's playful act, could only blink. Smile fading, Moshe redrew his hand and tried to roll away, but Raleigh finally had the presence of mind to stop him. With a tug, he had Moshe once again cradled to his chest. "I was thinking of our impending reunion with Frederick," he said, knowing Moshe would buy that excuse.

  Indeed, Moshe let out a light chuckle. "Once upon a time, you two were friends."

  "I tolerated him."

  Moshe cooed at him in a teasing tone. "Poor Frederick. He is so affectionate towards you, and all you do is snarl in return."

  Raleigh cleared his throat unhappily at that. Without thinking, he tapped Moshe's bottom. "You were the one he treasured, you charmed him from the moment you walked into the main hall with that sullen look on your face." Not to mention me as well, Raleigh thought to himself. Completely charmed and thoroughly screwed.

  It took Moshe's stony silence for Raleigh to realize where his hand was. He jerked it away and held his arms chastely above the covers.

  Another tense moment passed, and Raleigh knew he was about to make a fool of himself by saying something terse to cover his embarrassment., but then he heard Moshe sigh in a defeated way. "I don't suppose you'll at least act civilized towards Frederick?"

  Relieved that he hadn't completely ruined what had been the longest and least vicious conversation he and Moshe had shared in what felt like months, Raleigh simply grunted. It earned him the laugh he was hoping for, as well as a little snuggle. As much as he missed the rough games, it was the lack of soft affection from Moshe that had made Raleigh feel miserably lonely all this time. Even though he knew it was his own fault.

&nb
sp; "I suppose you would be a different man entirely if you greeted Frederick with open arms," Moshe said, his speech starting to sound a little dreamy. He had gone pliant in Raleigh's grip, the surest sign that he was drifting towards slumber. When he was snoring soundly, Raleigh ran the risk of pressing his face in Moshe's hair, breathing in his scent.

  *~*~*

  The duke greeted them outside, in the courtyard, which already had Raleigh's mood dark.

  "Be polite," Moshe whispered to him as he pulled his riding gloves from his fingers.

  "Our lord has no sense of propriety," Raleigh replied, lifting the saddlebags from Moshe's horse and handing them to a stable hand. Frederick was over by another, listing instructions. "A man who must retain respect from all those under him should conduct himself—"

  "Raleigh," Moshe said, letting out a weary sigh. He stepped closer, looking up at Raleigh with his brilliant blue eyes. He was smiling, however. "He does not hold the same old-fashioned values that you do, o' lord of the manor."

  They stared at each other. The air was still light with humor, and if Raleigh were to be honest, he would admit that his heart was close to racing with how close this comfortable banter was to how he and Moshe used to speak during the first half of their marriage. If this had been then, or even earlier, he would have turned Moshe over his knee, would have flustered him and swatted him until he admitted just how much he didn't mind Raleigh's o' lord of the manor disposition.

  But …

  "Perhaps he does," was all Raleigh said, his gaze averted. This time he knew the silence was coming, and instead of addressing it, he turned and went to the Frederick.

  He was not someone Raleigh relished spending time with, although he had known him for most of his life. Duke Frederick was the same age as Raleigh, and they were cousins. Every winter month, for the games, Raleigh was made to travel all the way to Marvle-Dein to be a playmate to Frederick, which was fine enough for a time.

  "Raleigh," Frederick said, holding his arms out wide. Raleigh smiled wanly and followed through with the embrace. He could just feel Moshe staring at them with amusement.

  Yes, Raleigh had gotten on just fine with his cousin when they were small.

  That was, until a boy from the north was brought to Marvle-Dein—the lovechild of a neighboring king ... and a convenient peacekeeping oath. The king would never wage war against them, and Frederick's father would keep the boy safely away from vicious courtiers.

  His name was Moshe.

  And he chose Frederick.

  Raleigh felt Frederick shift away from him.

  "What are you thinking of, cousin?" Frederick asked.

  Shrugging, Raleigh kept his amusement inward. Even now, decades after meeting that rabid coyote of a boy, he still burned with indignation that he was never the one chosen to play castle with, never wanted for chess games or stealing hot cocoa from the kitchen. Through most of their childhood, Moshe had barely batted an eye at him.

  Raleigh had been quite thorough and merciless in his revenge.

  Appearing next to him, Moshe took his place at Raleigh's side. "Frederick," he said warmly.

  "Dearest Moshe," Frederick replied, but—as Raleigh noted with approval—did not follow up with an embrace like the one he shared with Raleigh. At least he knew to keep a respectful distance, but he still had that yearning look in his eye that had always set Raleigh on edge. Raleigh dropped a heavy hand on Moshe's shoulder, clasping tight enough that he heard a quick intake of breath. Glancing down, he saw Moshe's eyes wide, and on him, cheeks flushed.

  Whatever had compelled him, whatever strength … evaporated. With a swallow, he released his grip.

  Moshe narrowed his eyes. Then he looked back at Frederick, who seemed suitably content to stand there with his hands behind his back and a slight smile on his face. "I have prepared the quarters closest to mine," he said, his eyes twinkling.

  "Why?" Raleigh replied, his tone flat.

  "I wish to spend as much time with my two favorite men on this good earth as possible," Frederick replied just as quickly, swinging around so that he was in between Moshe and Raleigh. He flung his arms over their shoulders, beckoning them forward towards the castle entrance. "You must sneak in! The middle of the night, we shall light a fire and tell ghost tales as we did as small ones."

  Raleigh merely grunted. It seemed Frederick did not recall that Raleigh was never wanted for such times.

  At that thought, Raleigh considered Moshe. It seemed he was in good humor, laughing along with whatever banal thing Frederick was prattling on about. It cheered Raleigh to see him happy, and yet it hurt that he could not be the one to put such a dazzling smile on Moshe's face.

  "I swear," Frederick said, "it has been since your wedding that I have seen you two."

  "It has not been so long," Raleigh replied gruffly. Moshe did not comment.

  "Keeping my best friend locked away in that place," Frederick continued, seemingly unhindered by his crass rudeness. "You are too stern a lord, Raleigh. Let me see your darling husband at least once a year, yes?"

  "You see him now, don't you?"

  Frederick only let out an amused hum in response, which had Raleigh gritting his teeth. If he were to be honest in the face of God, he would admit that in his most jealous moments, he had entertained the fantasy of confining Moshe to only Chaylain and its lands, so that he would never be allowed to visit Frederick.

  But then Raleigh looked down at his feet as he walked. Was it not that he had kept Moshe chained, anyway? When was the last time they ventured past his own lands?

  "He could go to Marvle-Dein if that were his wish," Raleigh said, the words rushing out of his mouth as if he had to prove something to himself rather than Frederick.

  He heard Moshe huff. And he felt a fool.

  "I would not come without my lord and husband," Moshe said.

  Raleigh's attention snapped to him. But Moshe was looking ahead as they walked up the steps into the castle.

  Frederick was chuckling softly. "Well, Raleigh. Never will I question that you tamed our dearest Moshe."

  When Frederick hissed with pain at Moshe's pinch, Raleigh almost felt vindicated, but he still heard our our our our, our dearest Moshe. Perhaps this is why he never entertained the thought of coming to Marvle-Dein unless he had to. He was always faced with Frederick's unwavering affections towards Moshe, and it made his gut clench with jealousy.

  Raleigh had won Moshe's devotion, Raleigh had been the one to finally trick and tease, embarrass and fluster, comfort and spoil, defeat and master, love Moshe into accepting Raleigh's ring on his finger.

  And yet, Raleigh could count on one hand how many times Moshe had even brushed a glancing touch on him in the past six months. And yet—Moshe was allowing and inviting Frederick's arm around his shoulders. But twinned with these indigent thoughts came too the rush of self-recrimination. It was not as if Raleigh deserved Moshe's touch; he had done nothing for so long to earn a night with his beloved.

  No sword fights, no races. They had not competed in any form for at least a year … or longer. When had Raleigh damaged his knee? Such weakness—

  "Raleigh," came Moshe's level voice, breaking Raleigh from his spiral downward.

  They were in the main hall, standing next to each other as Frederick walked off to talk to a servant. Raleigh cleared his throat, and his mind, and looked down at Moshe. "Yes?"

  "You had gone off somewhere."

  From a fair maiden, or perhaps a sentimental lad, those words would have sounded gentle, but from Moshe, they were just matter-of-fact.

  Raleigh took comfort in Moshe’s consistency. Sighing, he merely shook his head. "Marvle-Dein is a sight to behold, as always," he said.

  Moshe only looked irritated at the change in subject for a moment, and then he too glanced around the great hall, taking in the long tables with servants buzzing around them preparing a setting for every guest, the fire roaring in the monstrous, arched fireplace, and the banner that held Frederick's family cr
est hanging above it all. "Yes," he said, "it is much larger than Chaylain."

  "Chaylain has no need to be this large," Raleigh replied, his voice low.

  "That is not what I was implying," Moshe said just as quietly, but with an edge.

  Raleigh snorted. "There is no need for pretense, dear husband. I know your feelings for my ancestral home."

  "Raleigh," Moshe growled, stepping towards him. "How many times have I told you—"

  As if on some long-dead instinct, Raleigh stared straight into Moshe's eyes. "Watch your tone."

  Moshe pulled up short, expression gone slack. Very slowly, a red tint bloomed across his cheeks. His gaze darted away from Raleigh, and he lowered his head, completely mute. Raleigh observed him, hands now clenched, heart racing. He knew that blush, he knew that bowed, yielding stance, and he knew what came next. "Moshe," he whispered, reaching to slide a hand down to the small of Moshe's back, to pull him in towards Raleigh.

  "Gentlemen," Frederick said, walking towards him.

  Raleigh nearly jolted, and he expected Moshe to shy away, but instead he pressed closer still, ducking against Raleigh's chest. This god forsaken southerner would be Raleigh's undoing, forever and always.

  But Moshe's act of docility had stoked a prideful fire in Raleigh's chest. With a smug grin, he caught Frederick's eye. "My beloved is tired from our journey."

  The shiver that trembled through Moshe shot a spark straight through Raleigh's veins.

  Frederick had a thoughtful smile on his face. He looked down at Moshe, but Raleigh had him tightly cradled, so there was no matching gaze. "Tired?" Frederick said. "Have you gone soft, Moshe?"

  "No," Moshe replied drolly, and that was all he spoke.

  Raleigh had to suppress a smirk. Frederick of all people ought to know that no matter how docile Moshe acted with Raleigh, he could still act like a cold beast to anyone else.

  "Shall we retire?" Moshe said, the words carrying a teasing promise. He must have noticed Raleigh's amusement.

  "Yes, I think so." To Frederick, Raleigh said, "If our lord does not mind?"