by Tricia Owens
The night wasn't quite freezing, but he felt as though he were. Hadrian wrapped his cloak about him as the relentless wind sought every opening in his Order robes, trying to sink icy teeth into his skin. At first, he begrudged the chill that defeated his robes. But then he began to think more and more upon what Midagon had said to him.
The memories assailed him:
Hadrian had been walking through the woods when he heard voices and followed them. There, he’d caught sight of his father privately teaching Jessyd how to magick. He’d watched the trees shimmer with Jessyd's magick and wanted to look away as Gavedon clapped the other boy proudly on the back. But Hadrian couldn't look away. Some masochistic part of himself ordered that he watch this and remember. So he continued to watch as Gavedon turned fond eyes on a young man who was not his son. He watched and wanted to cry and scream at the injustice of it all as Gavedon loosely embraced Jessyd. Hadrian wanted to know why. Why not him? Why was Jessyd out there and not him?
Later...
He shivered against a draft that brought the gooseflesh to his skin as he lay curled on the stone floor outside of Gavedon's room. Hadrian listened to his father make love to Benta. He was jealous of the soft murmurs and endearments his father gave to the woman who was not his mother. Hadrian wished it were he who was being embraced. He wished it were he being spared that kind voice. He tried not to weep with longing as he heard Gavedon tell Benta that he loved her...
Once unleashed, the memories poured over him, threatening to drown him in misery. All of it swelled until Hadrian realized he had no choice but to pull up the familiar ice shields or risk being swamped by the force of his anguish. If he froze his heart, he could not feel the pain. If he froze himself, he could not be reached.
By the time Gavedon sought him out, days later, Hadrian had smothered the memories so deeply inside himself that he forgot that they existed.
"All will be well, Hadrian. Once this is done, the Order will continue forever, and you will be heir to my legacy."
Hadrian didn’t respond, his tongue encased in ice. Hadrian could not answer. 'Hadrian' was gone.
Chapter Nine
Hadrian had been gone all of eight days. Caledon wouldn't last much longer.
He was a mess and he knew it. He didn't bother to raise his head from the pillow of his forearms as a body jarred his table. If someone wanted a fight, he was in no condition to offer one.
"Gods, Caledon, will you look at yourself? I'm sorry to say it, but I'm a bit ashamed to admit to knowing you."
Caledon sighed against the sticky wood and lifted his head. He blinked groggily at Tye, who was seated across from him and looking thoroughly disgusted. "Then don't admit it," he said in a hoarse voice.
Tye shook his head. "Well, seeing as I'm your best friend, I don't feel comfortable doing that." The lanky mercenary sat back in his chair and regarded his friend pityingly. "You look awful. Can you clean yourself up some? You're a damned sight."
Caledon shrugged. He didn't care what he looked like. He wasn't out to catch anyone's eye now that Hadrian had left.
"What if your boy comes back early, eh? Perhaps thinking to surprise you? He catches sight―and wind, might I add―of you like this and you'd better believe he'll think twice about sharing his body with you."
"Shut up," Caledon grumbled, heaving himself back into his chair with a grunt. "He'd still want me. He's in love with me."
Tye raised an eyebrow. "He said that to you?"
Caledon smiled slightly. "Not exactly. But I've seen it often enough. I know the look."
"And yet this doesn't bother you," Tye said slowly, thoughtfully.
Caledon didn't even think. "Of course not."
Tye smirked then, the sight of which made Caledon's spine stiffen. "Funny, seems to me I recall that you hated it whenever a pretty lass declared that she'd lost her heart to you. You always said that love was something you didn't want from your bedmates. Love, as I recall you telling me once, was an emotion that had no business bouncing around in your bed."
A hundred glib responses found their way to Caledon's tongue. In the end he decided to discard them all. He leaned forward and pinned his friend with a frank look. "I was wrong."
Brown eyes rounded. "By the gods. Y-you're in love with him?"
Caledon rubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. He really did need to shave. "All I know is that it's killing me not to be near him right now. And when I think of the future―" Caledon felt his cheeks warm, " ―he's in it."
"So you really are besotted," Tye mused. He suddenly threw back his head and let loose a loud guffaw that turned several head within the tavern. "And for a pretty boy, no less. Ah, gods, Caledon, and here I thought I knew you."
Caledon glared at him. "I'm thrilled to have surprised you."
"Damn. I wish I hadn't taken that job for Hanamon. I admit I thought your pretty friend was attractive when he met me for business, but if I'd known he'd become so important to you I would have stuck around for the excitement."
Caledon also regretted that his best friend had left town so soon after Hadrian arrived. Given the opportunity, Hadrian and Tye would have gotten along well, he was sure of it. "No matter," he said with a careless shrug. "You'll see him again when he returns with his father. You're accepting the position, yes?"
"Ah, I don't know. I'd planned on returning home to my mother and sister." Tye winked a brown eye. "After this job for Hanamon, I've got some extra coin I'd like to give them."
"Just wait awhile," Caledon insisted. "It would mean much to me if you befriended him." His gaze fell away. "Maybe you'll be able to see him with clearer eyes than mine. You might learn that I'm being a fool in this."
"Caledon."
He raised his eyes at the warm voice.
Tye smiled genuinely at him, without humor or mockery. "I've never heard you speak this way about anyone else, nor have I seen you moon so. I truly doubt that what you're feeling is false. You're too experienced in these things to fall blindly."
"Perhaps you're right, but I'd like to be certain all the same. Tell me you'll stay. You don't have to accept the job with his father. I just want you to spend a bit of time with the two of us. "
"Alright, my friend. I'll delay my trip another week."
Caledon relaxed with a smile. This was the only thing that had picked up his spirits of late. "You won't regret this. You're going to love him," he assured the lanky mercenary.
"I hope not!" Tye said with a laugh. "I'm leaving that up to you, old man."
Caledon grinned cockily. "As long as you know your place."
Tye just groaned.
~~~~~
"You can't postpone your trip? They'll be here in two days," Caledon protested.
His thief friends, Gam and Lio, were perched atop a splintered, gray fence, tossing a coin back and forth between them. Caledon watched Lio deftly flick the coin between his fingers before tossing it across to the other man. The thieves did this two more times before Caledon reached out and snatched the coin from the air. "Are you listening to me?"
Gam rolled his hazel eye. "Your cock is besotted with that pretty thing you tossed in the loft. Yes, we understand. But our apologies, Caledon, we’ve got vital business to attend to."
Caledon smirked at that. "What is it this time? Another blind trader with a cart full of precious Kenwyn glass?"
Gam frowned, affronted. "Hey, now. It’s not our fault that information was slightly off."
"He wasn't blind and he wasn't carrying Kenwyn glass."
On the other post, Lio narrowed his single green eye at the mercenary. "At least we managed to salvage the hit."
"By sleeping with the trader's daughter," Caledon scoffed. "And didn't you tell me she gave you some sort of rash―"
"Oh, go away!" Lio snapped, crossing his arms in a huff.
Gam chuckled. "Look, Caledon, we'd love to meet your new interest. Really we would. I mean, the sounds he was making that night were enough to stir one's imagination―"
"Gam
," Caledon warned.
The thief attempted to look contrite. "The timing is bad, that's all. The tip we got says cinnamon is being carted to Hanta. Cinnamon! Do you know how much we could sell that for in the flatlands?" When Caledon remained unmoved, Gam hopped down from the fence and slung an arm around the taller man's shoulders. "Look, if you're all that bent on him, I'm sure we'll see him again, right? After all, you intend to be with him for a while, yeah?"
"Yes," Caledon replied grudgingly. He gave a disappointed sigh. "Alright. Next time. I'm following him home so I won't see you for awhile,, but I'm keeping you two to your word when we come back."
Lio still looked irritated but crossed his heart with his fingers. "If you're still with him, we'll meet him. Though what could be so infatuating about him is beyond me."
Caledon grinned. "Just you wait and see, Lio. I guarantee that even you will fall for him."
Lio scowled. "I doubt it."
"Just wait."
~~~~~
The longest fortnight in Juxtan's history finally passed. It was nothing less than a miracle.
Caledon couldn't eat breakfast and was afraid to drink for fear he'd end up sloshed just as Hadrian and his father arrived. He was a wreck and he hated it. He was as nervous now as he'd been on his first job so many years ago.
"Caledon, catch!"
He speared the thrown apple with his dagger and grinned. "Well, many thanks, Mistress Alena." He sauntered over to the redhead and leaned on her fruit cart. "And how are you this lovely day?"
The girl blushed, brightening her many freckles. "Not as well as you are, Caledon. The serving girls at the B&B have started a rumor about you, you know."
Caledon grinned. "Oh, and what does it say?"
She glanced up shyly. "That you're in love."
Gods, had he been that obvious? Caledon gave a slightly embarrassed laugh. "Yes, well, don't believe everything you hear, Mistress Alena." He winked. "Then again, maybe you should."
"Ooh, then it's true!" the girl said, clapping her hands happily. "Who is it? You must tell me! I promise I won't tell a soul. Is it Anna? Or what about Junea? I see you looking at her all the time."
Both were pretty barmaids that Caledon had bedded often enough. Neither, however, had been able to keep his interest for very long.
"Sorry, love. I can't say."
Alena pouted. "That's so unfair. You're deliberately teasing me."
Caledon took a bite of the crisp apple, chewing thoughtfully. "Let me make it up to you. What's your man doing for work these days?"
"Fyen's been mending fences for Master Lewyn. Sometimes he manages to pick up a job here and there at the docks. Why?"
"Tell Fyen to come to the Mercenary's Guild tonight. If he's interested, my friend has a job for him that will pay better than anything he's done of late."
Alena's green eyes widened. "Oh, do you think so? Fyen could really use something with decent pay. Master Lewyn misuses him something awful."
Satisfaction made Caledon feel ten feet tall. "I promise you, love: tell your man to come to the Guild and you'll both be happy that he did."
A wet kiss found its way to his cheek.
"You're such a sweetie, Caledon."
"You're welcome, love." Caledon winked. "I'm happy to do it."
~~~~~
It was probably the stupidest idea he had ever come up with. Ridiculous, even. How could he be harboring feelings other than lust for Hadrian? By the gods, Caledon barely knew him. And what he did know about the younger man tended toward what pleasured Hadrian physically more than anything else.
"You've been acting like a fool," Caledon muttered to himself as he tugged on the freshly washed hem of his tunic. He patted his hair, hoping it wasn't too unruly. For the first time in his life he'd spent coin on a hair tonic. His face still burned at the memory. "Hadrian was a delightful tumble. Nothing more. Don't overreact. You're not ruled by your cock, are you?"
Of course not. Caledon ni Agthon was his own man. He did what he wanted and to whom he wanted. No one could say that they'd ever bent Caledon to their whims. No one could claim to have held anything other than his brief, sexual interest. He didn't parcel himself out that way. Oh, no. Caledon ni Agthon was not easy.
Oh, but he felt easy. Caledon closed his eyes and let his head roll forward on his neck, trying to ease the ache of tension that had been steadily mounting as the day progressed. Hadrian and his father should be in town at that very moment and Caledon felt like heaving up the contents of his stomach.
Horrible, emasculating thoughts assailed him. What if Hadrian was no longer interested in him? What if after seeing Hadrian, Caledon realized he no longer felt that spark of attraction? What if Caledon had spent this past fortnight creating a relationship that didn't exist except in his mind?
He groaned aloud. "My biggest fear has come true." He slapped his forehead. "I've turned into a woman."
Disgusted with himself, he self-consciously straightened his belt and continued walking down the street. He noticed the unusual number of horses tied up outside the large building that housed the Mercenary's Guild. Excitement and trepidation made his pulse run.
A gust of wind ruffled his hair. Cursing, he tried to pat down the somewhat stiff golden spikes. Blasted merchant, he thought in irritation. He'd said this wouldn't make my hair harden up! He suddenly realized what he'd been thinking and groaned again. Gods, he was worried about his hair of all things! Defiantly, Caledon raked his fingers through the stiff mass atop his head. Who cared what his hair looked like? He was a man. A mercenary. He was expected to look a little rough. But as he paused at the doors of the Guild, he couldn't help smoothing down a few wayward strands.
Pathetic.
He pulled at the heavy doors. They didn't budge. He took a deep breath and tried again, pulling at the scarred iron handles. They shifted slightly, then stopped as though locked from inside.
Gods, was he that late for the meeting?
"You idiot," he cursed himself, jogging around the building. He hadn't wanted to be obvious, had wanted to salvage some dignity by not being the first to show up even though he'd wanted to be there hours ago, waiting breathlessly for Hadrian to return. Caledon had his pride. He wanted to keep some of it. Maybe he shouldn't have worried so much about that.
The Guild was a large building and he crossed some distance before he came to the side door which was rarely used. He tugged experimentally on the door and sighed in relief when it easily swung outwards.
Pausing on the threshold, he decided to quit fooling himself. Now that the initial fear of being locked out of the meeting had faded, Caledon could no longer pretend that he wasn't anxious to see Hadrian. He needed to see the younger man like he needed to see the sun every morning. Smiling somewhat stupidly, he slipped inside the building.
He was in one of the halls that led to the Guild's backrooms. It was here in these hidden rooms that the guild masters did their unsavory business. It was dark, but he could see the light of the main room ahead. The sounds of many raised voices quickened his step. So close.
But to his frustration and dismay, his way was blocked by a wall of men spilling out from the main room into the hall. For them to have needed to stand this far back meant that well over a hundred mercenaries must be filling the room. Caledon grinned in approval. Hadrian had done his job well.
Perhaps too well. His smile faded when he realized he was unable to push into the room. Mercenaries were not a type to yield kindly. Caledon didn't even bother trying to push his way through. He wasn't in the mood for a fight. He moved along the line of men until he found a thin gap between which he could see the front of the room where a dais stretched along its length.
Three men stood on the rise. Caledon's lips curled into a sneer when he recognized one of the handful of greedy, unscrupulous guild masters. The fat man―why were they always fat?―was rubbing his hands with obvious avarice, eager for his cut for bringing so many mercenaries here.
Caledon's eyes ski
ttered away from that unpleasant sight, moving onto the tall, imposing figure in white robes standing beside the guild master. He took in the man's midnight black hair streaked with distinctive strands of silver and the cleanly cut black beard that framed a strong, stubborn jaw. Even before Caledon saw the man's eyes―crystalline silver―he knew who he must be.
He wanted to feel a rush of kinship with the man. Here was Hadrian's father, the man who had helped form him. And yet when Caledon looked upon the hard, imposing expression on the man's face, he felt the chill of unease pass over his skin. This was the man who had left Hadrian unused to touch. This was the man who had portioned out his affection so thinly that Hadrian didn't recognize the emotion when Caledon offered it to him. Caledon wanted to like this man for Hadrian's sake. But studying the cold, somewhat arrogant lines of the man's face, Caledon realized it was going to take a considerable effort to warm up to him.
Unhappy with this realization, he let his eyes fall to the man's left. It was like stepping from a snowstorm to be enveloped by a thick, warm blanket. Caledon smiled widely, uncaring that he looked like a lovesick fool. He'd harbored a small but substantial fear that his remembrance of Hadrian had been false. It was not. Hadrian was still as beautiful and pale as an ice sculpture glittering in the sun of Caledon’s memories. Caledon's heart swelled. Now that he'd seen Hadrian again, he couldn't deny the truth: he was in love with him.
Caledon stood taller with pride as he gazed at the object of his heart's affections. He knew without looking that most eyes in the room were on Hadrian, too. He didn't blame his fellow mercenaries. Hadrian was a gem in Rhiad, utterly priceless. But he was Caledon's gem and the mercenary looked forward to the time spent after the meeting when he could remind the younger man of that very fact.
Caledon strained to the tips of his boots, trying to make himself visible above the crowd. He waved his hand, trying to catch Hadrian's attention. But Hadrian was staring at the floor of the dais, his gray eyes blank. His expression, like a wall of ice, bothered Caledon somewhat, but he chalked it up to nervousness. Perhaps he was unused to being in front of so large a crowd. Caledon glanced at Hadrian's father again. Or perhaps there were other reasons. The man was unquestioningly intimidating as he spoke, his smooth, cultured voice seeping over them all like a heavy pall.
