The realization sent a spike of irritation through him. Those were his private emotions. He did not want them shared. He drove his heel into the stallion’s side and the big brute bucked and kicked.
For such a huge mount, Mortari was agile as a cat. He twisted in the air before ducking right out from under Alexander in a quick lunge. Alexander was a good horseman, but he couldn’t anticipate the change of direction. He was unbalanced and sent flying through the air to land unceremoniously on his back in the soft sand.
Don’t you take your frustration on me, Mortari scolded, coming back to him. The stallion pressed his muzzle into his face. Tell him, rider. Stop being a little fool. The mount licked him from chin to hairline, grass scented breath warm over his skin.
Bennonton leaned over the pommel of his saddle, squinting at him when Alexander pulled himself to his feet and dusted off. “Well, I’ve never seen you come unseated before. Took him some doing but—”
“Ben? I….need to talk with you,” Alexander interrupted him, and then blushed furiously when the man’s eyebrows lifted up to his helmet.
“Are you all right?” He swung down from Chirmeng who shared a mild and knowing glance with Mortari. The warrior pulled the helm off, ruffling a hand through his crest of feathers. “I’m always here to lend an ear, my friend.”
Friend.
Alexander’s face went hot and then cold as he ran both of his hands through his hair, shaking sand from the curls. When he looked up, the general was smiling affectionately at him, head tipped to the side.
“You never call me Ben. Usually it’s Lord General Bennonton, despite the numerous times I begged you not to. It must be very important indeed.”
The lightheartedness made his admission worse. He didn’t want to say anything and embarrass himself or Bennonton, but his mount wasn’t going to let him hold onto his emotions and stew any longer. “I don’t want you to leave,” he whispered. “I know, it’s stupid, I’ve known you will return to your duties at the end of summer but…I just…I…I….like you.”
Like? Friends? Mortari’s irritation dug into him just as his heel had done to the stallion’s flank.
“Like, is it?” The big man’s face beamed with his smile as he tossed his helmet down and walked closer. “I like you too, bright-eyes.”
The way he said the nickname sent a hot flush through Alexander. He struggled to meet the larger man’s gaze. His heart beat so fast he thought the other man would hear it. “You’ve been more than a friend to me. Ever since the accident you keep me close but also at arm’s length. You call me brother but…but…”
“Zan’Dar.” Bennonton cupped his face and when Alexander didn’t draw away, he stepped closer. “You are young. You are far too young and pretty for an old warrior like me. I am keeping you safe until you are sure I am really what you want. Trust me, it’s not easy for me. However, it will be so much worse if you find this magical path home while I’m gone.”
“But you might die.”
“You might die, too.” His rough thumbs brushed along his cheeks. The touch was careful despite their hard callouses. It echoed the skillful way he played the reed instrument. “So may we all. If what you and I feel is true and real, it will last the two small years until I return.”
It seemed reasonable and yet his heart hurt wretchedly at the thought of being without him for those many months. “What if I’m never able to—” He couldn’t finish the question. What did he want to say? Kiss him? Touch him? Have sex?
Strong arms wrapped around him and he found himself crushed into the broad chest and squeezed tight. “Since the day I saw you get run through by that damned sword, I knew how I felt about you, bright-eyes. Two years is my price. And you will not think me dead and gone in any of those days we are apart. Do you understand me, boy?” the general growled.
The last part made Alexander blink up from his tearful sobs and he sniffled and squinted up into the man’s face. He was deadly serious, jaw tight as he watched him. “Yes,” Alexander whispered.
“Good. Then you will stay focused on your duties and your goal of returning home. Perhaps you will gain some muscles on these little bird bones.” He playfully pinched at the thin arm as he drew back. “And on the first day of Festival, we will have this talk again. All right?” His golden gaze held steady a moment and then slowly his smile returned, softening his features.
“All right,” he agreed when he was released. They spent the rest of the day together in the company of the cavalry, enjoying the sports that Festival had to offer. All he could do was savor every moment they had, as though it might be the last.
That evening Bennonton excused himself from his company to attend to something with the guard and Alexander was left in the company of a very sulky Winnifred. She had not found a mount. Her part in the deception kept them away. The princess had fully invested herself into the contests lately. She’d won many of them and still her prowess was not enough to cast off the shadow of her earlier actions.
“What are you doing anyway?” she demanded as she threw herself into the pillows beside him. She lunged forward, trying to take the item from his hands by force.
He twisted away from her and out of reach. “I’m making a braid. Don’t, you’ll tangle it.”
She narrowed her eyes and stuffed her fists into her lap, glaring ferociously at his reprimand. “It looks foolish. What is it?”
“It’s Mortari’s tail hair. He gifted it to me and I’m making a braid with it for good luck.” He kept his attention on his work.
Alexander expected her to say something rude. Instead she was quiet and remained beside him, just watching. When he glanced up from knotting another loop she offered a small smile. “He gave his hair?”
He felt Mortari in the back of his mind, listening. “Yes. There’s ritual with it.”
“Of course, there is,” the princess said, exasperated.
For a short time she didn’t say more, just watched him do the braiding. When he reached the end and tied it off in a careful loop, he offered the bracelet to her. Some of the hairs were dyed blue and others white with a few the bright gold all woven together as best as he could. He was not nearly as good at such crafts as his sister. Despite that, he hoped the princess would like it.
Her lips thinned as she looked at the offering and then squinted at him. “You are a very stupid boy.” Contrary to her flippant insult, she snatched the braid, pressing it tight to her chest as she continued glowering at him. Suddenly, she leapt to her feet and stomped off, huffing under her breath.
“What was that all about?” Bennonton asked, side-stepping as Winnifred nearly bowled into him as she stormed away. He shifted a saddle on his shoulder and looked from the girl to Alexander, eyebrow cocked, expecting an explanation.
When Alexander explained, the big man smiled at him warmly, “Don’t worry about her. You didn’t do anything wrong. She doesn’t know how to receive an honor that great with any grace yet.” He swung the saddle down, making the metal clink with bright bell-like jingles as he offered it out in his arms. “For you, and that devil you ride.”
“But—”
“Ah, so you don’t know how to accept a gift with grace, either.” The big man knelt before him, smiling gently. The saddle was fit for a prince or a general. It matched the gear Bennonton rode into Festival the first day. The tooled silver and gold did not seem suitable to be used by Alexander to ride across the world seeking his way home.
“It is far too fine for me,” Alexander explained through a throat tight with emotion.
“No. No, Zan’Dar, Keeper of the Lifebreath, this is not splendid enough for you. Do you know how rare it is for someone to run migration with the mounts, bright-eyes?” He held out the saddle. “The mounts do not call you Mortari’s rider. They speak your name. It is not usual for mounts to speak to anyone who is not their selected rider. You wait to see what saddle awaits you for the start of Festival in two years. You might as well grow accustomed to luxury, my champion.”
&
nbsp; You wouldn’t want me to see tacked like some lowly nag do you, rider? Mortari asked, letting him sense how very delighted he was with the gift.
Blushing, he slid closer and covered Bennonton’s hands with his and smiled. “We would be happy to accept the gift, Lord General.”
The big man rolled his eyes and chuckled. “I’m pleased it meets your approval, champion.”
Chapter 14
They spent the last several weeks picking out possible recruits from the newly matched mounts and riders. Bennonton performed the selecting while Alexander helped by getting the young people on horseback. He taught them the basics, things such as tacking their partners and the foundations of riding. Most of them had never been around a horse before let alone on the back of one. One wild-eyed youngster, a very capable swordsman, froze up anytime he was mounted. It took two days before he was comfortable enough to trot down the sandy beach.
“He’ll adjust once we get marching. His mount will eat him alive if we leave him here,” Bennonton murmured as he watched the pair struggle to get in time together. “You’d be amazed what hours in the saddle will do for a young man’s confidence.”
Alexander’s own training continued as it had the moment his stitches were healed enough to allow the movement. The focus was learning about the various traditional weapons and how to use them. They were not much different than what he’d done at home, but the training was in earnest to ensure he could defend his life.
He’d grown up with an old tale preaching the importance of proper upbringing that required music, sword and equine skills. He never imagined the foundation he mocked would be real and essential to survival. Learning fencing seemed foolish before, and he’d only attended the lessons grudgingly. If he ever got home, he would have a long discussion about the importance of this preparation. He owed his coach a huge apology.
In the limited time they had during Festival, the general tried his damnedest to fill in the gaps in his education and get him trained.
First were the weapons used primarily from horseback. The cavalry sword with a cruel, swept edge. He spent long hours running down innocent melons and his instructors or peers with wooden training blades. It left him bruised and aching afterwards.
Then there were swords for ground use. Primarily the focus was on the deadly weapons with sharp double-edged blades. The elaborate filigree of metal around the hilt might appear delicate and fragile, but the elaborate ornamentation was only a ruse. They were capable of cutting off limbs and piercing a man through. It was the same style weapon Yuli had used on him, after all. Hours of practice left his limbs from wrist to shoulder burning from the effort of perfecting the intricate positions, guards and thrusts. At least, it was similar enough to the rapier that he wasn’t starting at the beginning.
The same could not be said for the gentleman’s blade. That nasty bit of work was the weapon of choice for petty disputes or to settle questions of honor. They were not used to kill, only to scar. Dueling was in high fashion and that blade was the sophisticated instrument used when words were not enough to settle a grievance. It resolved issues from spilled wine or a rumpled jacket to satisfying most acts of insult at court. Those wicked blades were long, whip thin and required a careful balance that his growing body had not mastered.
He suffered through long, grueling hours of workouts and drills to learn the foundation. Being the horse-savage wasn’t particularly popular outside the elegant court of Talgraem. The general didn’t want his champion scarred from unnecessary grazes he might earn if he wasn’t able to defend himself.
By the time summer days grew shorter and the rain began to fall, Alexander dreamed sword fights and while he played music, he calculated counter moves.
During a day of rain, one of the last before the end of Festival, they relaxed together. Bennonton stretched out beside him, napping peacefully while Alexander practiced a song he was trying to master. These rare moments alone together were the best of his life.
He took particularly joy admiring in the way the man looked in sleep while he played through the tricky melody. The shirt was open down the man’s powerful chest. The carved angles of his muscles were on display, complete with the scars he earned from battle. Instead of hair, there were small downy red feathers. Alexander’s gaze followed their path down his body, lingering over the vee leading from his navel to where they disappeared under the slack waistband of the man’s pantaloons. He was struck by a question.
Did he have feathers down there too?
The music warbled into an awkward squeak in time with the thought. One golden eye opened to regard him. The slow curve of his smile was deliciously sensual as the big warrior rolled onto his side.
Without saying anything, he nuzzled his cheek against Alexander’s thigh. Finally, his face tipped up to him, glossy feathers tickling his arm. “Nap with me,” he whispered. Playfully, he pulled at Alexander, encouraging him to slide down the bed and discard the instrument.
Blushing at the unexpected physical contact, he happily obeyed and found himself wrapped in Bennoton’s strong arms, cuddled protectively against his chest. There was something perfect about being enfolded by him. Arousing certainly, and yet it was much more. The contact made him feel cherished, respected and honored in a way he’d never experienced before.
Resting his cheek against the warm flesh, he counted each heartbeat and inscribed every breath and touch of the experience to memory.
Two years would be far too long to hold onto this one memory, the first time he slept in his beloved’s arms.
Then, inevitably, came the day of departure.
The event loomed ahead and crashed down on him. Regardless of how many tears Alexander shed, or the cries of denial he uttered, the fateful dawn arrived.
The object of his affections held his emotions closer to the chest and was a rock of support for him, though Alexander knew from Mortari how much he suffered. It forced him to act stronger than he felt. The last thing he wanted was for the general to lead his army showing any sign of weakness.
At the gates, Bennonton offered him a parting gift. The customary ritual for a true consort. The white fur fluttered around his shoulders as a cheer from the men went up around them. No one showed anything but complete approval of their partnership, the age difference and their sex didn’t mean anything in the shadow of the bond they shared.
He pulled the cloak around Alexander’s shoulders and used the front edges of it to draw him in closer. The sweet berries and roses, scent of Bennonton filled his senses for a moment blotting out everything as his crest of feathers tickled his cheeks and forehead. “Time will go swiftly, my heart,” he whispered and brushed a chaste kiss to his cheek. His thumb brushed a tear away and he kissed the spot. “I will write you every day.”
“I will miss you,” Alexander whispered as he closed his eyes, tightening his fingers in the lapels of the man’s jacket.
“I will always be with you, bright-eyes, no matter what. When I return, I will hardly recognize you. You will be a man grown.”
“Just swear to me that you’ll eat,” Alexander said around his tears.
“I swear it. Please don’t cry. This is only temporary. You will be so busy you won’t have time to worry about me.” He drew back and kissed the scar over Alexander’s brow and then the lid of his eye. “Thank you for being mine,” he whispered and then let out a breath. “All right, I’m late enough. I must go, my love.”
Alexander forced himself to release the man and stepped back, pulling the cloak’s silken fur tight around him. He returned the smile as he stroked fingers through the feathered hood and realized that the general had cut most of his luxurious crest, leaving only a narrow crown trailing over the top of his head. Those brilliant scarlet plumes with their bands of blue and purple formed the hood of his new cloak. Each was carefully stitched into place and set with glittering gemstones.
“Here is my gift to you.” Alexander’s hands shook as he drew out the thick, woven band from within
the inner pocket of his jacket. Compared to the luxurious cloak, his offering seemed meager.
He’d spent secret hours weaving the braid. Mortari’s had performed the ritual as Alexander pulled each hair. In the same way they had healed Chirmeng, the war-mount poured his energy into him and Alexander imprinted that power into each hair from tip to root. The intimate layers of protection and love and happiness knotted in buttons of gold, white and sapphire. It gleamed and slipped through his fingers like a living thing as he held it up so everyone could see. A small gasp rippled through those near and murmurs spread through the ranks.
Bennonton’s eyes widened as he stared at the gift in silence. The braid seemed to glow brighter under the attention. Before he lost his nerve, Alexander leaned in and fastened it to the general’s shoulder among the assorted ribbons and medals. “May this protect you from harm until you return to me, my lord.”
Once the braid was secure, the general shook himself and flashed a cocky little smile, flinging back the side of his cloak to flaunt the braid. He displayed it as though it was richer than honor, glory or gold. He held Alexander’s gaze a moment longer, golden eyes glinting with emotion and then he whirled away and strode for his mount.
Alexander’s throat was tight as he watched him mount up to depart. Chirmeng offered a pious incline of his head before he spun and galloped off to lead the men away to do their duty.
It was the worst feeling in his life.
That spider web thin bond woven around them stretched and tightened as the space between them extended. They had not even done anything to strengthen it. In fact, they shied away from anything that would enforce it save for those chaste kisses that last day.
All on the slim chance Alexander found the gate home on his journey.
Winnifred sniffled beside him and at last she turned and affixed a large broach to the clasp of the cloak. “Here, you stupid boy. You need something worthy of your rank as our prince’s consort, brother.” It was a large golden medallion with the Talgraem royal seal at the center. Set around the edges where rows of glimmering rubies. He gawked at the gift.
An End to Summer Page 11
