An End to Summer

by Diana Rose Wilson

  “Focus on them and make sure they know you’re safe and well,” his father commanded. Then he returned to checking the wounds in the darkness.

  When he closed his eyes and forcefully pushed at the heavy veil of emotions tangled around him, the relief of both of his war-mounts sharpened into focus. The prince is here. His Prince. His General! Bennonton was here! He is wounded. I’m sorry—so sorry.

  There was a thrill of excitement from both mounts. They extended their affection and relieved support, punctuated by a cavalier smugness of Jasper. Of course, the prince has come. I said so, didn’t I?

  By the time he could open his eyes again, ears ringing and head spinning, grandmother Delphine was there, tutting quietly over the man. Her bright, knowing gaze only glanced at Alexander once before she attended to the wounds.

  “Blankets, Alexander. Go and get this man something more than the jacket hmm? Table clothes from inside will work just as well as anything for the drive home. Sooner we get him safely there, the better.”

  Again, he had to relinquish Bennonton hands, kissing the scarred knuckles before forcing himself to let go. He ran inside, ignoring all the wild stares at his blood dappled condition and ripped the coverings from the first tables he came to. He touched the precious spot inside himself and felt it flicker in response and then grow steady and warm.

  “Alexander! What’s going on?” Sean, his cousin, appeared at his side, wide-eyed. “Are you all right? Wait, where the hell are you going?”

  “I’ll explain later,” he growled and grabbed another tablecloth before rushing back out into the night. The sense of Bennonton was all around him and he was there. Home! Please stay.

  Please don’t go!

  I need you.

  All the millions of things he’d thought of telling him for long, miserable years. I love you. Love you. Love.

  Sean didn’t leave his side though. His jaw was tight with worry and around the questions he obviously wanted to ask. He stared beyond Alexander’s shoulder, stumbling slightly and falling a step back as he took it in.

  “Sean!” Mother called. “Bring the car around. Here. The keys.” She tossed them, turning to focus on the man again. “Close your mouth and get the car, boy.”

  He would have gladly traded places and suffered the pain, instead he did the only thing possible. He helped wrap the man in the cloths, wincing as the blood stained the stark white fabric. Moving him was a challenge. He was the same vigorous man Alexander remembered and it took all of their strength to carry him to the car Sean drove around to them.

  Alexander wedged himself into the backseat with his beloved, cradling his head in his lap and grateful to feel the fingers twined with his.

  “Who is this giant, Alexander?” his father asked as they sped away from the community center, heading home. He caught the concerned gaze in the rearview mirror and was suddenly transported to his childhood. A drive from the airport and a boy’s petulant whining.

  My beloved. My heart. My soul’s desire. My one and only. My General. My King. The father of our children. “My friend.” He choked around the stupidity of not admitting all the rest and felt the nuzzle of amusement from the man in question.

  “Little fool,” Bennonton whispered in the spirit-tongue and nestled his cheek against his stomach. “My little fool.”

  His mother twisted around in her seat to stare at him in disbelief. “Friend? Alexander Harris-Wallace. You never mentioned a ‘friend’. Does he go around getting knifed in the gut often?”

  He wanted to laugh and admit how many times the big man had suffered worse than that. Instead he bit back the response and answered, “I love him, mother. I love him.”

  The anger on her face fled, followed by wonder and a touch of awed concern. “Really? Truly?” She glanced at the big man and then back at Alexander before shaking her head from side to side. “You never said anything.”

  No disbelief about his sexual orientation. No shock or concern. Just happiness showed in her eyes and that depth of astonishment.

  “You would never have believed me if I tried to tell it all.”

  His father choked on a laugh. “Son…there isn’t much we haven’t seen.”

  “All this time you let us try to pair you with these women. You never said anything. Did you think we would be…upset?”

  He shrugged and Bennonton chuckled very softly and his weary smile curled wider. The fingers threaded through his squeezed possessively, a little stronger than before.

  “Yes,” he admitted. “And, I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. Easier to let a girl down easy than for you to get upset about something that—”

  “We would never be upset about something like that. I know we get fixated on talk of children, but that’s not important, love. This is wonderful. I am only sorry he’s hurt.” She looked down at him and then back to Alexander. “I haven’t had the pleasure of his name yet.”

  “Calvary General, Lord Bennonton, Prince of the southern kingdoms. Highlord of the first gate and wielder of the soul blade.” It felt so good saying his title that his voice shook with the fire behind each word.

  Her brows knitted as she took this in and narrowed her eyes a moment, looking for the first time that he ever remembered…confused. “Bennonton,” she pronounced back to him, one corner of her mouth quirking up. “We are going to have a very long sit-down and talk about this…man of yours. When we are sure he is stitched back together and not going to flee from us.” A pause and then, “Are his people going to be hunting for him?”

  Alexander looked down and found the man’s eyes watching, intent and adoring. They were not golden now, instead they gleamed a pale amber brown.

  “No.” Bennonton answered, in thickly accented English.

  “Thank the gods for that. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bennonton.” She smiled to him, with genuine pleasure. “I’m his mother, Barbra Harris-Wallace.”

  “Your son—is a mighty, um—” He rolled a few sounds around before trying out. “Warrior, Mother.”

  It didn’t seem to surprise her, or she was better at concealing her emotions now. “Oh, I know he is.” She reached back to ruffle Alexander’s hair and sighed heavily. Then she turned herself forward and cuddled against Father’s side, resting her head on his shoulder.

  “You are so young, bright-eyes,” Bennonton murmured in the spirit-tongue, soft lyrical words he had ached to hear for so long. “No hair on that chin of yours. Oh, dear me, I am a dirty old man.”

  “I’m twenty-four.” He leaned down and kissed his forehead, sniffling as the tears came. “Gods and devils, I’ve missed you, my king.”

  “I’ve missed you, beautiful boy,” Bennonton sighed quietly and drifted to sleep.

  It was a long night and Alexander wasn’t able to sleep at all. After the stitches and the medication Grammy made, Bennonton drifted in and out of a fevered sleep. Hot and then cold, he tossed and turned, until sometime close to dawn when he finally was able to drift to sleep. A true, healing sleep.

  Alexander stayed close, sitting in the chair beside the bed, watching him sleeping. He looked up from his guard to find his mother in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. Her bright eyes were very keen and interested. “You were a soldier there?” she asked quietly. “This place he’s from?”

  Heat warmed his cheeks, and he looked away, shrugging. It was strange to talk about it with his mother. It was one thing to tell of the historic naval engagement and famous cavalry battles in those exotic kingdoms to his younger siblings because they thought he dreamed them up. The old fear that she wouldn’t believe curled around his throat and locked the words from his tongue.

  With an effort, he let the story unfold, leaving out the way he was thrust through the threshold by his cousins. The mounts who apparently had guarded his secrets as their own aided his explanation. She frowned, eyes slightly unfocused at times as she seemed to receive evidence from her mount.

  “My god, Alexander. Why didn’t you tell me?”
>
  “The mounts knew. I thought they told you.”

  She narrowed her eyes and then sighed. “No, my son. They protect you as though you are one of them. I guess you are one of them in a way.” She wiped her eyes and then leaned over to hug him. “I am glad you told me everything. I am so sorry I wasn’t able to help you with this burden you’ve been carrying all these years. I knew you were changed after the accident. You kept the truth hidden so well we didn’t understand. Please, Alexander, don’t feel that you must hide these things from your father and I. We have seen our share of strange and unusual events. Someday, after your prince is recovered, we will sit down and your father and I will tell you everything.”

  * * * *

  He woke to the sensation of someone watching and blinked awake. Bennonton’s smile was radiant when their eyes met. “I woke you with a look? Truly? Dreamer.” He leaned and kissed his eyelid. “What has become of your scars, beloved boy?”

  Alexander rolled towards him, sliding an arm around his chest as carefully as he was able. He explained what happened when he came through the portal to return home as a boy again. He detailed how he was forced to live through a life without migration and honor and wars. At last he murmured, “I’m not as strong now as I was when I ran the migration and tried to keep up with you. Does it displease you?”

  “No, bright-eyes.” Bennonton lay a hand over Alexander’s heart. “This is who you are. And Mine. I don’t see you as soft and frail. Your spirit is strong as before. I love you. I will always love you in whatever form you pick.” His loving reassurance was followed by a small, almost shy kiss, as though he were cherishing something very precious.

  “And what of the children? Are they all right? Healthy? Whole?”

  “They are your children in heart and looks, beautiful darlings. Our son sits the throne for us. And our spirited daughter rules in the west with her fine dandy of a husband. You would like the little velvet peacock quite well, I think. Kyrie-bred they say, although never to his face. He is a good king and a fine husband.”

  “And our sister? Did she…get what she wanted?”

  “Ah, Zan’Dar. She did not wish for such a tragedy to befall your blood sister! Tsh. She and the High Lady K’lee are joyous together. I don’t think either of them or their deity would care for you mourning their union.” He smiled warmly.

  Alexander saw the happiness there, and also how much he would miss them.

  “It is a small price to pay to return to your side.” He snuggled in closer, rumbling out a weak growl. “You still smell like pears and cinnamon.”

  They slept like that for most of the day. Bennonton didn’t rouse when Alexander untangled himself from his arms to get him food. Bennonton was awake when he returned with the tray of fruits and tea and some of the boiled oats and the fruity little pear-like pearls from the red tree that had helped him recover. “You should eat.”

  He crinkled his nose as he scrunched back into the pillows and finally allowed a slow smile. “Well and well. Fine. I will.” After attempting a few small bites he asked, “What is it you do? Do you rule here? Your clothing is strange. Not silk and not velvet. It’s hideous, you realize.” He plucked at the t-shirt with playfully demure fingers.

  “Now who is the peacock, hmm? No, I don’t rule. I’m a chef.”

  “A chef?” Bennonton coughed and sputtered. “What? A cook?” An amusing expression of horror and outrage settled over his handsome features. “Zan’Dar, Keeper of the Breath of Life, is a cook? Do you serve a noble house?”

  Alexander found himself smiling. “Ah, don’t mock me. It is glorious, my General. I command a whole army of warriors in the kitchen.” He enjoyed the amusement twinkling in Bennonton’s lovely eyes. “It’s not as glamorous as the consort of the Lord General, I agree, but things are different here. Just…give it a little time. Okay?”

  His king pursed his lips and gave him a narrow-eyed little glare. “I will not be a pot scrubber, cook-Zan’Dar.”

  “Oh, is that so? Well, we will find something more suitable to your station, beloved.”

  “I will be consort to the lord of the kitchen,” Bennonton decided and took another bite of the food, watching him. “You will have to keep me in high style, though.”

  “Mmmm,” Alexander agreed and leaned closer to kiss his forehead. “Only the finest silks for you, my lord.”

  They were able to rest until nightfall wrapped together without anyone intruding on them until the cry of mounts went up from outside.

  Bennonton tried to leap to his feet, grunting with pain as he grabbed at his wounded side with a choked oath. “Chirmeng! Mortari!” His smile brightened with delight that overrode the pain. “Oh, thank all the gods!”

  Rider. Rider, I come for you. The familiar song cried through him as Mortari embraced him, enfolding him in the silken warmth and protection and….pain. Oh, my Zan’Dar. Your beautiful soul. Look at you! The kindness and affection spilled over him, soothing the old scars and the torn bits inside his heart. I was not fast enough. He sounded wretched, his grief swelling as the mount took in the condition he found his rider.

  “We better get out there,” Alexander said as he helped Bennonton up and pulled the robe around him. His hands fumbled at the tie, struck anew by how huge the man was. Oh, how he had missed the towering presence of his lover. It was almost overwhelming knowing he could touch him again.

  “Alexander! I think you have more guests. Where are all these coming from?” Vanessa called, pounding at the door of the room. “We’re calling auntie Marion.”

  She was still waiting at the door when they opened it and gawked up at Bennonton and then at Alexander in accusation.

  Bennonton started and bowed formally, “Lady. Oh! Dear gods and devils! You are a reflection of the High Lady. It is a pleasure and an honor.”

  Vanessa stared a moment seemingly at a loss for how to respond. Alexander was already pulling the big man with him down the hall while she gawked.

  Bennonton beamed at him. “You should have introduced us. I have much to tell her about her sister.”

  “She doesn’t know. I haven’t really told anyone. I…it’s not something easily explained. I honestly didn’t know for sure what happened to Kelly.” He shook his head slightly. “We can talk about it later.”

  Oh, they were going to have so much to explain.

  It turned out that talking about it would be put off for a while. The pair of mounts were wounded as badly as the others had been. Thankfully nothing was broken beyond repair.

  As dawn came, two weary men huddled in a stall with the mounts around them. Alexander was considering if he could carry his beloved back to the room when he looked up to find his mother smiling over the edge of the stall at them.

  “Cozy?” Her voice startled Chirmeng into wakefulness. His snorted warning was soothed by the others. All the war-mounts had happily included the newcomers into their herd and tried to reassure the nervous sapphire stallions that they were safe. Really safe.

  “Are they settling in all right?” She pitched her voice lower. Her smile was warm, eyes shining with emotion as though she couldn’t quite contain her happiness.

  “I think so, but they are still a bit shaken.”

  “I imagine so. Your auntie Marion is, too. So, should we expect any more guests?”

  Heat rose in his face but she was smiling so broadly at him he had to chuckle. “No, Mother. I don’t think so.”

  She nodded. “Well, you two look comfortable. Do you want me to bring blankets out here?”

  “I think I will carry him home.” Alexander admitted, smoothing a hand over the man’s bald scalp.

  “I can help with that, too. I’m so happy for you, son. Surprised, my dear, but so happy. I have not seen you smile like this since you were a boy.”

  Alexander did smile and realized he’d done that more today than over the past several years. He ducked his head slightly. “A part of myself was missing all this time.” He rubbed his free hand over his ch
est where the bounding point felt almost painfully hot inside him.

  “I can understand. There has been too much of that in our lives, I think. It’s about time our fates changed. Come, let’s bring your warlord inside.”

  He thought about his mother’s words as they helped Bennonton inside between them. Were their fates changing? Were they on the brink of their luck shifting?

  Amy’s words whispered back to him, ’There is a beginning that can only start with a catalyst.’

  That night as he curled himself around his beloved and pressed his ear to his vast chest to hear his heartbeat, he sent out his thanks to Amy. He wasn’t quite sure how she’d done it, but without a doubt, he knew that she was involved in bringing this man and their mounts through. Somehow, he would repay her kindness and cherish what he’d been given for the rest of his life.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Diana Rose Wilson

  Diana Rose Wilson grew up under the shadow of the Mayacamas Mountains, raised by outlaws and bikers. She has been involved in the lifestyle since 1989, including working at a high end adult boutique specializing in fetish, BDSM and LGBT merchandise. Her debut book is Wicked Masquerade, first in the Forbidden Secrets series. She has also been published in Finesse, a publication for the Thomas Keller Restaurant group.

  Her mundane work experience spans the computer gaming industry, technology dot coms, hazardous waste disposal including the Gulf Oil spill cleanup, County Administration, and the culinary industry.

  Currently Diana lives in wine country with her husband, where she enjoys good wine, better food, loud Harleys, 3-day eventing, and the delights of deviant erotica. She is a member of the Pacific Northwest Writers Association, Snoopy Writers, and CFTW Writer’s Block.

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