by Tricia Owens
"Please, Caledon."
"Please what?" he teased.
Stubbornness flashed in his eyes. Caledon just smirked. "You know I'm going to make you say it, so don't fight me." He squeezed Hadrian's erection, earning a throaty groan. "The longer you fight me, the longer the delay until you get what you want. So just...say it."
He rubbed his finger a little harder across Hadrian's opening. The tip of his finger tickled the edges, not quite sliding inside. Hadrian whimpered and clutched at Caledon's shoulders with his nails. He rolled his hips, trying to push the digit inside, but Caledon chuckled and moved his fingers back to circling the pink flesh. "Say it, love."
"You're cruel," Hadrian panted but there was a smile on his lips. He moaned and pushed himself down against Caledon's stiff cock. "Please, Caledon," he murmured, gray eyes swirling like a building storm as he looked down at Caledon, "make me yours."
Caledon grabbed him by the hips and swiftly rolled them over. Hadrian looked up from the depths of the pillows, panting, desperate. Caledon wanted to hide him away, to stow him someplace secret where no one would ever find him. Only Caledon's. Only his.
A rough sound caught in Caledon's throat as he lifted pale legs to his shoulders and flexed his hips forward. Hadrian bit off a cry and clutched at the mercenary's forearms. Caledon watched his face contort into expressions of discomfort, of pleasure, as Caledon filled his still-slick channel with his length.
“More,” Hadrian gasped. “More.”
Heart thundering, Caledon pulled back and then drove himself in all the way to the hilt. He gripped Hadrian's legs and thrust hard and quick, his rhythm leaving them both groaning.
"Gods, love," Caledon gasped. "You're so tight. So beautiful..."
It was too much. Caledon felt his release surge through him from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. He groaned and shoved himself as deep into Hadrian's body as he could before spilling himself into the welcoming heat. A clipped off cry from beneath him told him that he hadn't found his pleasure alone.
Hadrian pulled him down and covered his face with sloppy kisses. Caledon laughed and tried to return the same. Their lips ended up bruised. It didn't matter.
"Caledon," Hadrian breathed against his mouth. "Caledon, I don't want to leave."
Caledon pressed his cheek against the other man's and hugged him fiercely. "After you return here with your father, I'm going back with you."
The minute the words left his lips, he questioned his sanity. He'd not committed himself to anyone, ever.
But the thought of doing this with someone else no longer appealed to Caledon. Tired, well-used bodies with too much experience...he was through with that. He wanted to be clean again. He wanted lovemaking to be special. He wanted that blasted farm where Hadrian could milk their cows. He laughed inwardly. What a woman he'd become! But the truth of the matter was that he wanted his innocence again.
"I'm going back with you," he repeated firmly.
"You're coming back with me," Hadrian whispered. "I'm afraid to believe it."
Caledon smiled gently. "Believe it."
~~~~~
Hadrian was hurt. He didn't understand.
"I can't see you off," Caledon told him as he awkwardly patted the neck of the horse Hadrian sat upon. "It's just something I can't do."
He sighed as Hadrian continued to look down at him with eyes that looked bruised. "Gods, Hadrian, you look as though I kicked your dog." Caledon ran a hand through his hair in agitation. "Just go, will you? I'll see you again in a fortnight. It won't be long. I refuse to say farewell for so inconsequential a time."
Brave words, when he didn't believe them himself.
"Then you're not upset with me?"
Caledon groaned and reached up to Hadrian's tunic. He grabbed a fistful of fabric and pulled the younger man down to him. He kissed Hadrian slow and deep, using his tongue the way he knew Hadrian couldn’t resist. When he pulled back, Hadrian looked on the verge of falling out of his saddle. Caledon laughed affectionately and pushed him back upright. "Still think I'm mad at you?"
Hadrian touched his lips. He smiled then, relieved and blissful in a way that Caledon knew was entirely because of him. It made his chest swell with pride.
"Be waiting for me," Hadrian told him, gathering up the reins. He stroked Caledon's hair with his fingertips—his parting caress—before reaching into a bag at his own waist. He pulled out something and pressed it shyly into the mercenary's hand. "Until you see me again."
Caledon closed his fist about the object and stepped back as Hadrian spurred his horse. Caledon didn't remain to watch him leave; he turned and began walking resolutely back towards the Bell and Buckle. It wasn't until the sound of hoof beats faded that Caledon opened his hand. In his palm lay a blue ribbon, twined around a lock of silky black hair.
Weakness for shadow. Someday, Caledon mused, it will be my downfall.
The Ember
Chapter Five
September 1st, 20 years earlier…
Gavedon walked through the halls of the castle, his eyes falling disinterestedly upon the loose flowers strewn across the stones and the bouquets that had been placed against doors. His strong, powerful stride took him through the quiet halls quickly, but not quickly enough for him to avoid the white robed men and women who occasionally accosted him, wishing him well.
"A fine night for a babe," wished a young man, a new member to the Order of the White Shard. Once a farmer's son, he had traveled for five months to reach Shard's Point Isle in the hopes that Gavedon would share knowledge with him. Fortunately for the young man, he possessed the natural ability to magick, otherwise Gavedon would have told him his trip had been wasted. Gavedon ni Leyanon did not extend charity to anyone.
"We'll see if it is," Gavedon replied curtly, but he was unable to help the pride welling up in him. His first child was due to be born this night. His anticipation for the event was high.
He fielded more congratulations as he made his way to his destination: the farthest east tower. Here, enough flowers had been set before a slim wooden door that Gavedon had to literally kick them away to enter the room without tripping.
At the sound of his entrance, the room's sole occupant raised startled eyes.
"My lord, Gavedon!" The old man, far older than the castle's keeper, quickly stood from where he had been studying a book in the corner of the room. "I expected you to be awaiting your wife’s child at this hour."
"Roisin doesn’t require my presence in order to bear a babe," Gavedon replied. In truth, he did not think his wife required him for much at all, anymore. "There’s a more urgent matter to which I'd give my attention."
A touch of unease lit the old man's face as he watched Gavedon's focus drift to the beaten silver bowl that sat upon the table where he had been reading. "My lord?"
"Tell me if this child will be a son," Gavedon said.
The man paled. "But―but in a few more hours―"
"I don’t care to wait."
"But—but my lord, you know as well as I that the Council has expressly forbidden the art of scrying within Juxtan." The old man rubbed his hands together anxiously. "We’re fortunate that the Elders failed to notice the magickal aura from your first scrying, years ago. To do it again is to invite their notice. And the Council will notice, my lord."
"I don’t care," Gavedon said, striding over to the table and picking up a pitcher of water.
"If our actions are detected, the punishment for scrying is death!" the old man whispered.
Empty silver eyes as icy as the peak upon which Gavedon had learned his power over Life, stabbed into the old man like shards. "I would know the sex of this child and its fate. Suffice it to say I have concerns about my wife's loyalty to me. Better I should know now than after I’m stabbed in the back." His cold eyes narrowed with suspicion. "You wouldn’t want to see me fall, would you, Midagon?"
"Of-of course not!" the old man stammered fearfully. "As the Dimorada claim, you are The One. Witho
ut your teachings we are powerless. Ignorant."
Gavedon snorted, content. "Then do this reading for me, old man. I grow impatient and the hour late. From her screeching, my wife will have her babe within the hour."
Shivering at the man's apathy for his wife’s condition, the old man waited nervously as Gavedon filled the silver bowl with water.
"Now tell me what you foresee for this child," Gavedon commanded, crossing his arms.
The old man stared into the clear water.
"The child is a male," he said eventually.
Gavedon's fists clenched. His firstborn was a son. A son! He had to rein in his excitement.
"Tell me, old man, will he inherit my power?"
The old seer frowned, rubbing at his brow as he continued to stare into the bowl. "He will be powerful―very powerful. So strong!" he gasped suddenly. "By the gods..."
Gavedon's lips twitched with satisfaction. "Of course he’ll be powerful. He will continue my teachings with the Order."
The old man looked pained. "You know that the readings are rarely so clear," he protested. "With the child not yet born, I can’t see his lifelight beyond mere suggestions of what path he will take. I do see―" Midagon broke off, his eyes widening. "Must be wrong," he muttered, shaking his head. "This is unclear, it cannot be correct―"
"What do you see?" Gavedon demanded, staring down into the bowl as if he could glimpse what disturbed the seer. To him, the water held nothing but their reflections, peering down at it.
"I see a great surge of power. So much energy flowing―the land has never seen its like. And, by the gods, Life drowns out both of your lights, I don't understand!"
Gavedon grabbed the man's thin shoulders and shook him violently. "Does my son become my heir?" he demanded. "I don't care about the rest. Tell me if he is my ally or my enemy!"
Shocked, the man searched Gavedon’s face, gauging his seriousness, before slowly turning his head to study the water again. After a long moment in which the howling of the relentless winds outside whistled through the cracks in the castle, the old man let out a soft sigh.
"I see what looks to be a great battle. His power is blinding, it is unfathomable." The old man raised his eyes and stepped back. "I see your lifelight disappear at that moment, but I’m unable to say for certain that he is the cause."
Gavedon turned away, his shoulders stiff. "My firstborn son will take my life, that is what you’re saying."
"I may be mistaken! It’s terribly easy to misread the signs. And my lord, as I've told you it is an untrustworthy reading when your son is not yet born."
"Is this fate sealed?" Gavedon continued quietly as though he hadn’t heard.
"No, my lord. Fate changes with every passing minute. The choices you make today will inevitably change what I’ve seen occurring in the future. The reading that I saw may be avoided―"
"It will be," Gavedon declared, turning back around. The pleasure he had experienced when learning he was about to have a son vanished as though it had never been. "My son will not be given the tools to take my life." When the old man gasped in dread, Gavedon held up his hand. "I won’t kill him, for you’ve warned me that this reading may be inaccurate and I would enjoy the possibility of having an heir. But he will be raised with every intent to keep the prophecy of his life from becoming true. You’ll tell no one what you’ve seen, do you understand?"
"My lord, the Council may already know―"
"They may know that you’ve scryed, not what you’ve seen," Gavedon snapped. "Even if they threaten you with death, you will tell no one, old man. Just remember: I, too, possess the power to take away your life. And I’ll find a way to do it that will not be pleasant, believe me."
"I believe you," Midagon said, shaking so hard that his grip upon the table sloshed the water from the bowl. "I’ll tell no one."
"Good. With any luck, what you’ve seen won’t come to pass and this night will be something you and I will laugh at in years hence, yes?"
The old man chuckled, though it sounded pained. "Of course, my lord. Of course. We’ll laugh."
Gavedon sent him a last withering glare before throwing open the door. "Now, I’ll deal with my wife and this 'gift' she has seen fit to give me."
The old man shivered with sympathy, whether for the unborn son or for Roisin ne Leyanon, he couldn’t say.
~~~~~
In the waning minutes of the twentieth, with the wind gusting with a force that would be commented upon for days afterwards, Gavedon ni Leyanon and his wife, Roisin, were blessed with the birth of a son. Gavedon named him Hadrian.
He held the screaming child in his arms and studied its wrinkled features critically.
"If you think one day you will usurp me, you are mistaken," he said quietly. He felt Roisin's eyes upon him, but he ignored her. "You are my son and you will be obedient to me as a good son should. If you do that, I’ll guide you well and your name will be known across the land."
"Give him to me," Roisin said, apprehension written upon her face. Though worn from the birth, she glowed with love for her son…but less for her husband.
Gavedon barely glanced at her. He didn’t see the beauty that had once driven him mad with desire. This woman, whose hair was as pale as the snows that fell upon the Fanawel, and whose ethereal face and body bespoke of flowers, was not his wife anymore. Instead, he saw a traitor.
"Rest, my wife," he told her as he cradled the babe within his arms and turned away from her. "I’ll bring him to you after you’ve properly rested. You must be exhausted."
Ignoring her stricken moan, he carried the baby out of the room.
That night, in the early hours when the moon was giving way to day, a single boat left the island of Shard's Point, never to return again.
~~~~~
Nine years later…
"What do you want?"
Gavedon glared as one of the shadows disengaged from a nook in the hall. A young boy of striking beauty stepped into the light. He possessed the fair skin and delicate features of a girl―indeed, he looked like a young Roisin―but his inky hair and piercing gray gaze belonged to none other than Gavedon. The eyes that would forever link them together looked up at Gavedon with uncertainty.
"I would like―I would like to train with the others."
The request didn’t surprise Gavedon. Since Hadrian's birth he had kept his son isolated from the other members of the Order. This was by design. Though Hadrian was in constant passing contact with the white-robed members, he wasn’t permitted to interact with them. In Gavedon's mind, giving Hadrian the full education the boy wanted was akin to placing a dagger in his would-be assassin's hand.
"You’re demanding for one so small. Has your caretaker been lapse in her duties? Are you bored, is that it?"
Hadrian shook his head. "She’s been fine. I’m learning much from her. But...I wish to learn what only you can teach me. I would like―" the boy blushed, "―I would like for you to teach me."
The boy was lonely for his father. Satisfaction filled Gavedon. It appeared that his careful planning was yielding fruit.
It had been difficult raising Hadrian. Or rather, not raising him, for Gavedon had insisted that the raising of his son be taken up by a continually rotating cast of caretakers selected from among the Order members who were least inclined toward children. No person remained with the boy long enough for attachments to be made. Attachments meant loyalty, and Gavedon wanted his son to be loyal only to him and to yearn only for his attention. He wanted Hadrian isolated, dependent upon his father's largess for anything and everything. It was part of Gavedon's master plan to prevent his son from growing into a man who could harm him.
The other part of his plan required that he keep Hadrian from stepping foot upon the mainland. Outside influences would be destructive upon a young, impressionable mind. Gavedon was not a fool; he knew that most people in Juxtan considered him a megalomaniac at best, an evil sorcerer at worst. If Hadrian ever learned of those opinions and decide
d that he was wasting his energy trying to win the affections of such a man, little might prevent Hadrian from turning on Gavedon, or at the least, leaving Shard's Point and becoming prey to unscrupulous forces that could harness Hadrian’s magickal power against the Order.
If the boy possessed such power. Despite the old man's prophecy, Gavedon didn’t sense great magick from Hadrian. Had Hadrian been another man's son and come to the island seeking instruction, Gavedon would have admitted him into the Order with great reluctance or turned him away completely.
"I don’t condone favoritism, Hadrian." He watched the boy’s gray eyes, twins of his own, fall to the stone floor. "Unless you can prove to me that you possess the ability to magick, you’re not permitted to train with the others."
"But I do have magick," Hadrian protested, raising his head. His chin lifted just slightly, an odd little show of stubbornness that Gavedon had never seen from him before. "I can feel things. And hear them."
Gavedon crossed his arms to present a formidable presence to his young son. "Such as? Be specific. Don't waste words or my time."
Paling slightly, Hadrian said, "When I’m outside of the castle, I can tell where the animals are. I hear―I hear their hearts beating." When Gavedon's eyes narrowed, Hadrian swallowed hard. "S-sometimes I think I can hear the trees, too."
"Trees don’t possess hearts," Gavedon said disdainfully.
"B-but I sense something from them. Something warm and welcoming. It―it makes me feel good."
"It makes you feel good," Gavedon repeated.
Hadrian flushed in obvious humiliation. "I’m sorry, I-I thought that was magick."
Hadrian wasn’t wrong. The boy could hear Life. Gavedon was both pleased and disturbed. His son had inherited his powers. But at what cost to Gavedon later?
"I-I only wish to join the others," Hadrian went on, red-faced. "I get lonely sometimes, and there are so many others in the castle that I could speak to. Maybe play with…"
"How insulting you are to your caretaker, who dotes upon you. Should I tell her to save her efforts for someone else, since you don’t appreciate her?"
