by Megan Derr
"I don't know, either," Midori said. "It is a very fine line between the horror of knowing and the horror of not. But he seems to have come out of it more intact than most would, considering just how traumatic it was for him."
Shrugging, Dario replied to the dead fire, "Because of you, I think. He told me all that you did to comfort him. I hated that he would not let me. I think perhaps it is I who should be telling you that there is nothing to fear."
Midori hated to hear the despair in his voice, especially since he was the one who had put it there. Whatever his feelings for Culebra, they were fledgling, undeveloped. They might turn into something deeper, or they might burn out.
Closing the space between them, he curled a hand over Dario's shoulder and rested the other against Dario's cheek, urging his head up. Dario had the most beautiful eyes, the deepest gold Midori had ever seen. "You have absolutely no reason to feel threatened by me, I promise. Comforting a man for a few months does not compare to loving him for many years."
Dario opened his mouth, but then closed it again. He stared at Midori as though not quite certain what to say or do. Even filthy and reeking, he had not been entirely unpleasant to look at stark naked. When he had strode back inside clean and dripping water ... well, Midori could understand at least one very obvious reason Culebra had never let go of his errant bodyguard.
In the hours since, he had learned many vastly important reasons that Culebra still loved him. Midori would not even think of competing with that, even if he thought it was his right—and it definitely was not. He had meant everything he said to Dario.
If it made him feel lonelier than ever, well, that was his burden to bear.
"Where will you go when this is all over?" Dario asked abruptly.
Midori managed to laugh. "Wherever the wind takes me, wherever the dragons will me."
"All this and you plan to ... just walk away?" Dario asked. "Everything you've told me, you will have nothing left."
"Spoken like a true child of the land, a stone child who worships something as certain as death," Midori said with a more genuine smile. "I am a child of chaos, and I really hated being a noble. Starting with nothing may prove to be exactly what I need."
Whatever he expected in reply, it was not for Dario to cup the back of his neck and pull him down into a curious kiss. For a man who seemed so rough around the edges, his mouth was shockingly soft. Midori slowly let go of his hold on Dario, but only to better settle his hands lightly on Dario's hips, not quite holding him, not quite pulling him close, but steadying them both as Dario deepened the kiss, and curious turned suddenly into hungry.
The sound of the door slamming open made him jump and jerk back. Fidel snorted. "If you two are finished, we really should be heading out."
"Right," Midori said, and he turned away to go take care of the captives. Grabbing the bottle of dream wine and rag they had found amongst their captors' belongings, he slipped into the room and put each man back into deep slumber. When he was certain they would not rouse any time soon, he cut their ropes and left the room.
Yago's corpse was beginning to make the room decidedly unpleasant. "Are we all set?" he asked as Fidel handed him his travel pack.
"Are we?" Fidel asked, smirking, and left the house.
Midori swallowed and looked at Dario. "I—I meant what I said about leaving. I wouldn't try to insinuate myself—I know I could not be—" He stopped because he was only making himself sound like an idiot.
Dario glared at him. "Is that what you think? That I am trying to find a replacement for Granito? That I think that's all you would do?"
"I don't—no," Midori said. "I suppose I am not very good at figuring out where I fit anymore. All I know is the sea. Being on land for so long is confusing and Piedre is nothing like Kundou."
"Do you want it to be?" Dario asked.
Midori shook his head. "No. Kundou ... hurts too much. Wherever I go after this, it will not be Kundou." It had not really felt like home for a very long time. Starting over was exactly what he needed, if he was ever going to find a place to call home.
"My brother is gone. I will always miss him. I have no desire to replace him, not like that. I just wondered ... I just wanted to see what finally drew Culebra from his depression. I can see now. You are not Granito, but maybe something new?"
If Midori had ever heard three sweeter words, he could not remember them. Maybe something new. He liked the way that sounded when Dario said it. "Come on," he said, smiling. "We cannot decide anything until we rescue his highness."
Dario returned the smile before swinging his own pack over his back and leading the way outside. Mounting up, they rode quickly toward the base of the Azul. As Fidel predicted, they reached it just as it began to grow light out. "What should we do with the horses?" Midori asked.
"Leave them here," Fidel said. "They're good horses, they'll stay around here unless something scares them—and it will take a lot to scare them. They were raised around here; they're hard to spook. That forest looks like something out of the stories we used to listen to at the orphanage."
Midori laughed. "The kinds of stories meant to scare children into behaving, but only encourage them to go adventuring? I went to bed without supper many times thanks to stories like that."
"Stories of soldiers were what got me in trouble," Dario said. "Clearly, we should have spent more time on chores."
"I rather like where I am, discounting the looming threat of death and destruction."
Dario and Fidel laughed. Settling their packs more firmly on their shoulders, they vanished into the dark woods of the Azul Mountains.
Chapter Seventeen: Reunion
Culebra curled up into a ball, but it was no help against the chilly air. He had been out of the water for hours—well, he thought hours, but he was far too aware it could have been mere minutes. The last time he had felt such bone-deep terror, he had been forced to listen to Granito's dying screams.
Holding his legs even tighter against his chest, he buried his head in them and tried to find good memories to cling to until he figured out how to get free of the nightmare of his own making.
Dario. He just knew Dario would come for him. Dario, who did not appear to hate him like he had always feared. Culebra scarcely dared to believe that he had not lost both of his lovers after all. When this was over—
His thoughts stuttered when he realized that they would likely return to the palace when it was over, and Midori waited at the palace. Unless, of course, Midori was trying to find him. That seemed like something Midori would do.
What would Dario think if he knew about Midori? Would he think that Culebra had given up on him? No longer wanted him?
Happy thoughts, he was supposed to be thinking happy thoughts. Dario was still in love with him. Midori had not been afraid of him, not even a little, not even once. Selfishly, he wondered if they might get along. He flinched, feeling guilty. The world was on the verge of destruction, it was his powers that were going to be the method of destruction, and he was daydreaming about his old lover and his new.
But anything was better than recalling his terrifying fall: the water, the noise, the way it had felt like he was hitting solid rock when he finally struck the water; the rush of the current, not being able to breathe. The cold, the dark. He was so tired of never being able to see. Just once, just once he would like to know how the world looked. To not be afraid.
What if nobody ever found him? He was even more of a god now than he had been hours ago, at most a day or so ago. He could feel death all around him. In the earth, in the trees, in the very body of the mountain itself. Many had died there over the centuries—too many. All of them were seeking either to obtain his powers or destroy him.
Culebra forced himself to unbend and carefully explored his immediate surroundings again despite the fact he had the small area already memorized. He knew the lone, prickly bush, the cluster of hand-size rocks to his right, the weeds and pebbles that littered the rest. The little i
sland in the middle of the river seemed to be about as long as he was tall, and tapered to rounded points at each end. The center, where he sat, was about half his height. How far away the river banks were, he did not know. They could have been mere steps, they could have been a brisk swim. He did not dare risk it.
The air was growing colder, the animals quieter, and even his heightened senses were not enough to stave off the panic that ever hovered at the fringes of his mind. He did not know which would be been worse: being found by Jürgen, or never being found at all.
He did not dare hold out hope that anyone else would rescue him. Cortez possibly, but only if she got close enough to him that their bond began working again. When he'd tumbled from the bridge, he'd heard her anguish in his mind. He'd called out to it, trying to soothe her and feeling the pain as though it were his own. No doubt she'd felt his fear just as acutely. Strange to be so close to someone, so intimately bound. It was far too easy to forget that she had been the one to kidnap him in the first place.
If he was honest, he did not even care. They had both been manipulated. She'd never been cruel. He would have given anything to hear her calm, quiet voice in his mind again.
He would have given even more to hear Dario call out to him, to have Midori hold him. Perhaps he was a selfish bastard for wanting them both, but right then and there did it really matter? If that selfish daydream was all he had to keep himself sane then he would cling ruthlessly to it.
Was it day? Night? How long had they been in the forest, and how long had it been since he'd thrown himself off the bridge?
Happy thoughts. Either he would die of exposure in the forest, or Cortez would figure it all out and they could go home again. He would take care of Cortez, see to it she was never troubled again by such nonsense, and then he would hide in his room with Dario and Midori for days. Weeks. Possibly months. As long as he was fantasizing, he may as well fantasize in full, and he could do no better for fantasy than he, Dario, and Midori together for days on end.
It hurt, finally letting go of Granito, and he felt like crying when he realized that was what he had just done. But Granito was gone. It was time to really move on, and if he survived Jürgen's scheming he would move forward without any more hesitations.
The hiss was so soft, so familiar, that he decided he had imagined it. Even when he heard it a second and third time, he ignored it as wishful thinking. It was not until Ruisenor touched him, coiled around him, that Culebra finally broke down sobbing and clung to her for dear life. "Ruisenor! How did you—"
"Highness!"
"Culebra!"
He had to be imagining things—but there was no mistaking the sound of two people jumping into the river and rushing toward him, though swimming or wading he could not tell. Then he was wrapped up in two sets of arms, Ruisenor squirming out of the way, and Culebra could not tell if he was crying or laughing as he clung to both Midori and Dario. "What are you both doing here? How did you find me?"
"Ruisenor led me to you, highness, all the way from the palace," Midori said quietly. "She really is the most magnificent creature."
Culebra just laughed. "I can't believe you're both here. I am fairly certain that much coincidence is not allowed."
"Except where chaos and destiny collide and create good fortune," Midori replied. "Come on. We need to get you into dry clothes. I'd imagine some warm food would not go amiss either."
Culebra just nodded, biting back disappointed whimpers when they let him go to do whatever it was they were doing. A couple of minutes later Dario's hands slid around him again, pulling Culebra to his feet. "However did you wind up here, Culebra? Where are the others?"
Ignoring the questions, Culebra rested his hands on Dario's chest and then slid them up to his face, every line and curve of his body still so familiar. It was as easy as breathing to lean up and find Dario's mouth, kiss him softly. Dario groaned, the rough, familiar sound of it the sweetest thing Culebra had heard in months.
Then Dario was kissing him ravenously and holding him tightly, all that lovely quiet and patience gone. He had always loved best the way Dario's cool burned away around Granito and him. When they finally drew apart, Culebra gently stroked his face, making note of all the minute changes and relishing that he was still so familiar. "I thought you hated me for ... for killing Granito. Setting you free seemed the only thing I could do."
"You didn't kill him, Culebra. I would never think that of you. The mermaids killed him. I hated I was not there for you, for him. That without him, I was not good enough for—"
Culebra cut him off with another kiss, horrified by the words and that he'd inspired them. "You're too good for me," he whispered when they drew apart. "You're my bodyguard."
"Yes," Dario said. "I definitely am. Don't send me away anymore."
"I won't."
"Promise."
"I promise."
"Good," Dario said and kissed him one last, lingering time before drawing back and twisting around to pull Culebra's arms up over his shoulders. "Come on, caro. Onto my back, we'll get you out of this river. Your captain has a fire going already."
Culebra tensed at those words. His captain. What did Dario mean by that? Surely not what he thought. He bit back his questions, though, as they slipped into the water and Dario waded them across. It was cold, shockingly so, but it was worth it when they stepped onto land again and Culebra realized he was no longer trapped on that horrible island.
He'd been saved. He still could scarcely believe it. Dario settled him in front of a fire, and Culebra whimpered to feel the heat wash over his body. A soft hiss emanated from his left, and he reached out to stroke his fingers along Ruisenor's smooth scales.
Fingers lightly touched his shoulder, drawing his attention. The fingers slid away, covered his hand, and curled it around a hot cup that smelled of fragrant tea. "However did you manage to survive the waterfall, highness?"
"You really should not be calling me highness," Culebra said with a smile, turning his head so he was closer to the sound of Midori's voice—so close, he could just barely feel Midori's breaths on his skin. "You know my name. Use it. I know you know how to say it."
Midori chuckled softly. Culebra did not know what to do. He wanted to kiss Midori. If he didn't, he would hurt Midori. If he did, he would hurt Dario.
This had been so much easier when the entire affair had been initiated by two brothers. Fingertips brushed his cheek, whisper soft; he almost thought he imagined it. But there was no imagining Midori's soft kiss, gentle where Dario had been rough. Just thinking about the contrasts made Culebra shiver.
It was the clinking of dishes and the sound of feet crunching on forest debris that made him pull back. "I feel I am missing something."
Midori laughed and kissed the corner of his mouth. "Drink your tea. I'll have the soup done in another hour or so. It won't be much, just quick travel soup, but it's energizing."
Culebra obediently drank his tea and had barely finished his first cup when Midori refilled it. "We can't linger long, Jürgen still has Cortez, and I don't know what they'll do when they finally reach the Temple of Solace."
Except he had a terrifying feeling he knew exactly what they were going to do.
I will not let you destroy everything!
You do not have a choice.
There will always be a choice. Everyone has the right to choose, however much you have come to hate that.
Choices should be left to those strong and wise enough to make them.
I may not be wise enough to make all the right choices, but I am certainly strong enough to take one of your options away!
Culebra dropped his tea and pressed the heels of his hands to his throbbing temples, willing back the voices resonating through his head. He did not dare think about whose voices he was hearing, though he knew eventually he would not be able to avoid it.
Warm hands covered his own—Midori on the left, Dario on the right. They rested their other hands on his back and pressed up agai
nst his sides. Culebra immediately relaxed. He had badly missed being surrounded in such fashion, being safe. It was impossible to feel alone cradled between two people who obviously cared, even if he did not always understand why they cared.
Dario kissed his cheek. "You were muttering to yourself, Culebra. In words I couldn't understand. I think you were speaking some form of Ancient."
"Was I?" Culebra asked.
"Yes," Midori replied and kissed his other cheek. "You sounded exactly like one of the priests of Pozhar."
Culebra leaned into him, enjoying the way that, beneath the smells of sweat and dirt, he could still smell the sea on Midori. "I heard voices in my head. I think they're memories. Of—of nine hundred years ago."
On either side of him, Midori and Dario were dismayingly quiet. Culebra tensed and tried to withdraw—but they only held him tighter, lips and hands soothing, until he slowly relaxed again.
"What are they memories of, exactly?" Dario asked softly, and Culebra hated when he used that soft tone. It meant he knew something and it was bad and he was trying to act as though he didn't know it.
Culebra wondered what he had figured out and hoped it was not the same thing to which he was slowly resigning himself. "I'm not sure. An argument. The Basilisk and someone else. I think he was trying to stop someone from doing something."
He was almost positive it was the Basilisk arguing with Licht, and that it was moments before he had died. But that was all. The rest would come, he knew, but he had no desire to rush it. "It doesn't matter right now," he said. "Cortez is what matters. We can't let her die, and if we don't get to her soon, that is exactly what will happen."
"Fidel will catch up to her, and we'll continue on as soon as you have the strength. You need to rest."
Culebra shook his head and tried to push away from them. "I'm fine. I'm a little tired, but—"
He stopped when Dario covered his mouth with one finger. "Culebra, you are the color of bleached bone, and yet when we saw you in the middle of the river I swear you had managed to grow even paler. We are not going anywhere until you have rested. Then I am sending you and Midori back down the mountain—"
