by Simon Archer
I muttered a series of colorful curses under my breath and knew that I was now in bigger trouble with this man than I had been when I was breaking his heart moments ago. What I wouldn’t have given to go back to that. I should have shoved him out the door before he got it in his head to touch me with his gift.
“Okay,” Martin said breathlessly from the floor. He continued to face away from me, but he sat back on his knees. “You might not want to tell me why you don’t want to see me anymore, but you’re sure as hell about to tell me what happened just now.”
“You should not have done that,” I said as I rubbed the back of my head against the wall, hoping it would soothe the worry culminating in my chest.
“Done what?” Martin barked as he looked over his shoulder at me and met my eye. “Tried to heal you or figure out why you were feeding me a bunch of bullshit?”
“Touched me,” I clarified. “You should not have touched me.”
“I didn’t know it would be such a problem,” Martin growled, “considering I had done it several times before now.”
“Yes, but never with your gift. You should not have touched me with your gift!” I snapped back. I pushed myself off the wall and loomed over him. For the first time in this entire conversation, I was truly angry with him. His foolishness and rash decision-making had put us both in danger.
Martin wouldn’t let me stay above him for long. He hopped up to his feet and pushed his snarling face into mine. Our equal height leveled us eye to eye.
“Why shouldn’t I have touched you with my gift?” Martin said, never breaking eye contact. “I was only trying to help.”
“You should not have done that,” I protested. “You should have just left after I told you I did not want to do this anymore. Why did you not listen to me?”
“Because I didn’t believe a word you were saying,” Martin argued. “There was something else going on, and I wanted to know what it was, but now it seems that maybe I really can’t believe you. What was that?”
My brain was fried. I could no longer come up with any excuses, so I poured out the truth, despite how dangerous the result might be. I had to exercise the trust I had cultivated in Martin since that kiss in the cave.
“It was my gift,” I replied.
“Which is?” Martin stepped back, lowering his voice and putting his hands on his hips. Even now, when we were furious with one another, I noticed how attractive he was. His toned body and newly acquired muscles stood out when he stood like that.
Martin coughed to recapture my attention, and I continued with my explanation.
“I amplify other people’s gifts,” I said. “When they touch me while using their gift, it strengthens. Sometimes to a dangerous level.”
Martin’s eyebrows shot up, and his mouth dropped open. He seemed to lose his resolve as his hands fell to his side, and he regained his balance.
“I do not advertise this,” I continued because I could not stand him looking at me like that, as if I was some marvel or coveted prize. “People have… abused me in the past, often to hurt others. I always aimed to better myself in other areas so people would just assume I was gifted in something physical rather than this.”
Martin still did not say anything, but his expression did shift. It was pity, and that only angered me more.
“Stop that,” I commanded.
“Stop what?”
“Stop looking at me like that!” I shouted. “Like I am some poor child or a treasure that you just won. Stop it!”
Martin immediately covered his face with his hands. My anger was temporarily tempered by confusion.
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t know how to look at you, so I’m not,” Martin said, his voice muffled through his hands. “The last thing I want to do is offend you.”
“Yeah, well, too late,” I grumbled.
“You’re not any of those things,” Martin said. He parted his palms so his normal voice could be heard properly. “You’re not a treasure to be won or a poor child. I think of you as so much more than that.”
“Martin--”
“No, wait, please,” Martin said as he stepped forward, still covering his face. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have used my gift on you without your consent. That was wrong of me. I took advantage of you. Not of your gift, but of you and…”
Martin’s voice caught in his throat. His lips curled, and he pushed out a breath. I inhaled, intending to speak, but he cut me off.
“Hold on, I’m almost done, and then I’ll go,” Martin said, his words tumbling over one another. “Just like you asked. I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but I respect you enough to let it go. Just know that I’m here. If you change your mind, I will listen.”
As promised, Martin turned around away from me and towards the door. He kept his hands on his face the whole time and started to veer off course. I rushed to cut him off and gently guided him to the door.
“Oh, thanks,” Martin said lightly. He tried to chuckle, but it was pained and forced.
A rush of regret made my knees buckle slightly. I stood in front of this gorgeous man who held his hands over his eyes to make sure he didn’t look at me wrong. Who, despite his own hurt, was respecting my decision and walking out gracefully. Who smelt like hope and a future I never imagined I could have.
And here I was, about to let him walk out the door.
To something better and more important than me, I reminded myself. Then maybe, just maybe, if we both survived this, we might have a chance at that future. I leaned forward and lowered my lips close to his, enough to feel his breath. He gasped, surprised by my closeness, and his own breath quickened.
“Martin,” I whispered into the space between us. “I would like to kiss you one last time. May I?”
He took a pause, and in that brief moment, I promised myself I would not be offended if he said no. After all, I had just asked him to stop our romance so no one could blame him if he denied me.
“Yes,” Martin responded, just as soft and light.
I leaned forward gently and pressed my lips to his. I felt his body slack, melting into the kiss. It was brief and rather chaste, but I left my hopes in that final moment.
Now parted from him, I opened the door, and Martin walked through. Before he could turn around and look at me, I closed it. I placed my forehead against the cold wood and exhaled audibly.
It was, then, that I noticed for the first time in days, I felt… better.
30
Atlus found me that evening splayed out on my bed with an empty plate of chocolate resting on my stomach.
“Oh dear,” the king said, surprised with a touch of sympathy. “It looks as though you have had a hell of a day.”
“That’s one way to put it,” I said, not bothering to sit up. “I’m sure there’s some formality about standing when the king enters the room or something equally past that, but I’m going to assume we’re past that. If not, feel free to arrest me, because frankly, I don’t give a damn right now.”
“That was quite a speech,” King Atlus commented.
I heard him shut the door, and I lifted my head briefly, thinking he had left. But no, the king was still in my room and had now crossed to the edge of my four-poster bed. He didn’t sit or touch anything but just stood there and watched me.
“What?” I prompted.
“Nothing,” Atlus said lightly. “I am waiting for you to lament. Go on. I will listen.”
I laughed, the plate bouncing off my stomach and tumbling onto the bed. “While I appreciate the offer, I do not feel like lamenting anything to you, sorry.”
“Is it because of me or because I am the king?” Atlus asked innocently.
His sincere question compelled me to sit up on one of my elbows. I gazed over at him with a lazy neck, swiveling my head.
“It’s the subject matter,” I admitted, deciding to match his sincerity with some of my own. “It’s a little embarrassing and somewhat petty.”
; “You? Petty?” King Atlus joked.
“Shut up,” I scoffed, throwing a pillow at him.
Atlus chuckled as he caught the square pillow and placed it on the corner of the bed. “Come now, Martin. If something is preventing you from having a clear head to play our game, then you can offload it on me. I do not mind.”
“I…” I started, but the words got caught in my throat. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”
“Why?” Atlus wondered.
“Because here you are, offering to hear me out like a friend would do when just a couple of months ago, you had a warrant out for my arrest,” I said, completely perplexed. “It’s a little baffling.”
“Well,” King Atlus began, allowing himself to lean against one of the bedposts before crossing his arms over his chest, “a couple of months ago, I believed you to be a threat to the kingdom.”
“What did I ever do to you?” I wondered, taking the opportunity to ask a question that had bothered me for a while. “I mean, what reasons did I give to make you believe that?”
“It was not you specifically or any action you did,” Atlus said as he looked at his toes. “It was the circumstances. My father always warned me about outsiders and dragons.” He shrugged his shoulder with an exaggerated frown. “Then there you were, bringing both.”
“Outsiders and dragons?” I raised an eyebrow and sat up fully. “What about them was so dangerous?”
“That is what Hennar was,” King Atlus explained.
Suddenly, I realized I had more pieces than I thought. Part of the history of Insomier came together, but I wasn’t sure about some of the specifics. I remained quiet and let Atlus continue.
“He was not from Insomier, and he bonded with a dragon,” Atlus spelled out. “Then, he proceeded to destroy the kingdom. We originally welcomed him into the court until he learned of King Garham and his title as the King of Dragons. He believed that because he bonded with a dragon that he’d earned some right to rule the kingdom.”
“That’s rather entitled of him,” I commented offhandedly.
“When someone acquires so much power so quickly, it is difficult not to become addicted to it,” the king confessed. “I can honestly say it can consume you easily.”
“I’ve seen it happen,” I joshed.
“Yes, well,” the king said with a slight blush, acknowledging his past mistakes. “When the dragon denied him the title and my grandfather would not relinquish the crown, Hennar infected the king. My grandfather was the first victim of the corruption.”
“Holy shit, Atlus,” I said, leaning forward and reaching out a hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“My father lived in fear of someone coming and doing the same to him,” Atlus proceeded with his story. “He passed that fear on to me. Protect the crown at all costs, he would say to me.”
“No wonder you disliked me,” I said, biting my lip. “I was the personification of everything you had been warned about.”
“Exactly,” Atlus admitted. “I see now, though, that you are not Hennar.”
“Far from it,” I said with a chuckle.
“Indeed,” the king replied with a smile. “And I am not too little of a man to recognize my mistakes. I do not believe that I ever truly apologized for my actions against you.”
“Oh, it’s okay,” I protested, not wanting the moment to get awkward. “We’re past that, really.”
“Alright, I will not embarrass myself further,” King Atlus said.
“Apologies and acknowledging that you were wrong shouldn’t be embarrassing,” I said, thinking aloud. “They are actually really brave things to do. Especially for a king.”
Atlus bowed his head. “Thank you, Martin, though I will apologize for succeeding at only making the moment drearier instead of making you feel better.”
That made me laugh, and I let the amusement run through me. “Believe it or not, Atlus, this conversation did make me feel better. It took my mind off my own misery.”
“I am glad my problems could help you sort that out,” the king said as he uncrossed his arms and put a hand to his chest.
“Nothing like someone else’s hardship to make you feel better about your own,” I joked, but the words came out awkward and unhelpful. I blushed at my blunder and closed my eyes. “Great, now I’m embarrassed.”
“Shall we play a game of chess then?” Atlus suggested. “To distract both of us and prevent further humiliation?”
“Yes, please,” I said as I reopened my eyes and hopped off the bed. I walked around just as Atlus was crossing to the table. We jolted back, almost running into each other.
“Oh, sorry!”
“Pardon me.”
We twisted apart and proceeded to the table, our moment of clumsiness ignored.
I went to the table where the chess set sat, and began to reset it from the practice session I had been playing a day or two ago. “Do you want to play here or in the library?”
“Actually, I think we should play somewhere completely different,” King Atlus suggested with a tempting lilt to his voice.
“Where?”
“I believe I am doing you a disservice by only playing me,” Atlus explained. “I think we can expand your lessons by giving you different competitors, so I asked a friend of mine if she would be willing to play you. Luckily for us, she agreed.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” I agreed with a noncommittal shrug. “Who is it?”
“My cousin, Emerald,” Atlus said proudly. “We are to meet her in her chambers, should you have agreed.”
“And if I didn’t?” I chuckled. “You would have just left her there to wait all night?”
“Of course not,” Atlus said with a shake of his head. “I would have sent a messenger to tell her our plans changed. She would have understood, but I think she will be especially glad now that we are coming. She speaks highly of you.”
“Oh, that’s good to hear,” I breathed, surprisingly relieved by that statement. After the whole humiliation at the tournament and the tense practice dinner, I wasn’t sure how Em felt about me.
“Shall we?” he said, opening the door and stepping through it.
“Yeah, let’s go,” I said, following him down the hall.
Em’s chambers were three levels above mine. King Atlus led the way, grabbing a torch off the wall as we passed one. We ascended a spiral staircase, spinning up several levels until we reached a long open hallway. Arches lined the hall, revealing the starry night sky. There were two guards posted on either side of the walkway, each nodding to the king as we passed. Neither acknowledged me, even though I mimicked Atlus’s nod.
“Hey, Atlus,” I ventured as we traveled.
“Martin, I must ask that you address me more formally when we are in public,” Atlus said from over his shoulder. “I do have an image to maintain, you know.”
“Of course, sorry, sire,” I quickly corrected. “King Atlus?”
“Yes?”
“How come you aren’t afraid of me like the rest of the court?” I asked, worried about the answer.
The king paused and didn’t respond right away. He waited until we completely crossed the open hallway and entered into another spiral tower of stairs. Then he spun to face me, the firelight flickering shadows across his face.
“I am afraid of you, Martin,” King Atlus said simply, like he was stating a fact instead of confessing a secret. “You have more power than I believe you even realize. Should you choose, you could obliterate my entire kingdom. Now, having gotten to know you better, I do not believe you intend to do that. However, that does not eliminate the possibility.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but the king held up a hand. Out of respect, I closed my mouth and waited.
“So, yes, I fear you, but I will not let that fear stop me from getting to know you and trying to do what is best for my kingdom,” Atlus finished. “And the best thing for everyone, right now, is you. Does that satisfy your question?”
“Yes,” I half
-lied because I was unsure how to digest the wisdom of his response.
Once again, King Atlus reminded me not to underestimate him and his role as king. We might be becoming friends, slowly but surely, though that did not eliminate the fact that he ruled over this land. Something told me there would always be a mutual fear of one another. Hopefully, over time, it would become smaller and more manageable. If we were lucky, it might morph into something close to trust.
After another set of stairs, we approached a short wooden door that curved into a point at the apex. Atlus rapped his knuckles gently, signaling our arrival.
“Password?” a light voice called from the other side.
“Chrysanthemum,” Atlus said, low and secretive.
He looked over his shoulder at me, and I shot him a questioning look. The king only replied with a shrug.
“It is her room, her rules,” King Atlus said.
I mentally noted that Em may be the only person in the entire kingdom to have this level of sway over the king.
The door swung open, and Em was on the other side. She stood, using a cane to assist her. She held out her free arm and smiled slightly. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
Atlus leaned down to fit through the door and proceeded to kiss Em on the cheek. “Good evening, cousin.”
“Good evening, sire,” she replied with a kiss of her own. “Please tell me we do not have to maintain formality around Martin?”
“No, we do not,” Atlus answered. “It is my belief that Martin is allergic to formality.”
“That would not surprise me,” Em agreed in a teasing tone.
“Hey!” I protested, having to duck in the doorway too. “I’m learning. It’s a process, but I’m getting… whoa!” My words dissolved into the air upon seeing Em’s so-called humble abode.
It was a long studio covered in potted plants. While the bedroom part of her chambers resided in a corner off to the left with a ramp leading up to her elevated bed, that was not the most amazing part of the room. One whole wall was windows with a curved top, just like Maria’s greenhouse. There were several window seats with books and plants stacked about. Despite the clutter, there were clear, clean pathways so Em could wheel about in her chair without running over anything.
