“Right,” Scorch answered helplessly, waving at her as she fled the tent. He turned to Vivid, who was drowning in his apprentice clothes, the collar hanging off one of his shoulders. Vivid didn’t seem to notice, and Scorch wondered if being topless for so long had skewed his previous need for covering every inch of his skin. Selfishly, he hoped so, because the flash of moon-white shoulder and prominent collarbones was a sight he could get used to seeing. “Hungry?”
Vivid was hungry. And thirsty. Ridiculously hungry and thirsty, or maybe not so ridiculous, considering he’d spent the past however many days too almost-dead to eat or drink anything. Scorch rummaged through Etheridge’s food stores, picking out the best things, until a pile of options sat in Vivid’s lap, mainly cured meats and hunks of bread and blocks of cheese. Some fruit and baked goods. Scorch munched on a cinnamon muffin while Vivid ate his way methodically through the pile, only stopping long enough to drink great gulps of water. Scorch worried he might eat himself sick, but before he exploded from food, he stopped, swallowing another sip of water and sitting back with a groan.
“How does a guardian get clean around here?” Vivid asked. “Or do you even bother?”
“There’s no majestic waterfall, but we do have a civilized selection of bathtubs. We even have hot water,” Scorch replied with affected haughtiness. “Would you like to hobble there, or shall I carry you?”
Vivid hobbled, but not without Scorch’s help. Really, Scorch did most of the work, and Vivid had to keep his side pressed against him and his arm looped over his neck. Scorch thought Vivid would have preferred to skip a bath rather than be forced so close to him, but apparently, he was wrong. He grumbled the entire way to the bathhouse, but he never let go of Scorch, and Scorch held on as tight as he could without crossing the line from helpful to invasive.
The baths were miraculously empty, unlike the hallways, wherein Vivid and Scorch had received a jumble of differing looks, all of which made Scorch smile awkwardly and Vivid tense beneath his hands. He doubted Vivid would have even undressed with a guardian in the room, so it was a blessing they were alone. Scorch was filling up a tub with buckets of hot water when he recalled Merric was supposed to be shadowing them, and they were definitely not supposed to be inside the Guild House. Sure enough, after glancing to the bath doors, he spied a stoic shadow in the hall, accompanied by a trill of musical laughter that could only belong to Felix. Merric, it appeared, had no intention of keeping an elemental from their bath time.
If Vivid was perturbed by Merric’s presence, Scorch couldn’t tell, because the man was already perturbed by everything else, mainly his hair, which he kept running his fingers through. He let out an irritated little huff.
“We can cut it first,” Scorch suggested, already leading Vivid toward a chair in the corner. The razor and shears were where he’d left them, and after lowering Vivid into the seat, he scooped up the shears and snapped them playfully in his hand. “How do you want it?”
Vivid looked unhappy and small in the chair, his hair an uneven, greasy mess. “Just cut it all off,” he ordered.
Scorch frowned sympathetically, but he couldn’t see another option. Kio had cut the thick front section of Vivid’s hair so short that the rest of his hair looked strange in comparison. He would have to cut it as short as his own to even it out. Vivid gave him an impatient look and summoned him closer.
Up until the moment Scorch stepped up to him, he had somehow failed to realize he would need to touch Vivid’s hair in order to cut it. It was oily from days and days without washing, but it still felt soft between his fingers. The dark strands were longer than he’d initially thought. He let his hand run through the length a few times, getting familiar with its weight and the way it fell. Vivid’s part remained a zigzag at the crown of his head and Scorch traced it with a finger. It looked like a lightning bolt. When his fingers felt along the silky wisps at the base of Vivid’s neck, Vivid leaned into the touch. Shocked past the point of being able to grip things in his hand, Scorch dropped the shears, and they clattered to the floor.
“Perhaps I should have asked the cat to cut my hair,” Vivid said. It took an answering meow for Scorch to notice the cat had followed them from the tent and was lounging beside one of the tubs.
Scorch picked up the shears. “I think I’m more capable than a sleepy cat, thanks.”
“Barely.”
Scorch began cutting, taking far more care with Vivid’s hair than he had taken with his own. He’d never cut anyone else’s hair before, and it was harder than he’d anticipated. For a good five minutes, he was certain he’d botched the job and was brainstorming different scenarios of escape, but as he slowly moved around to the back of Vivid’s head, things started to even out and look less wonky. His fingers brushed Vivid’s skin after he snipped the inches away. It was odd to see his neck so exposed, and his ears, and his jawline. Features he’d never really noticed before revealed themselves with each snip, until Vivid’s hair was as short as he dared make it. Their feet were surrounded by black discards, and he picked one up to hand to Vivid.
“Why did she cut it?” Vivid asked, twirling the lock in his fingers.
“She needed a lure,” answered Scorch, coming around the chair to check his work. It was an okay job. It wasn’t the Vivid he’d grown accustomed to looking at, but he liked seeing pieces of him he’d never seen before. “She sent it to the Hollow. Audrey found it, and then she found me.” It felt like years ago when Audrey had handed him the cloth-wrapped hair, but it had only been a few days. “Did she have a lure, when she found you?”
“You,” Vivid said. “She only told me she had you.” And that had been enough. “Where did Audrey find you?”
Scorch fiddled with the shears. “I was living in a cave,” he mumbled.
“Pathetic,” said Vivid, but when Scorch mustered the nerve to look at him, his face was unreadable. “Leave so I can bathe without you mooning over me.”
“You’re too weak. I can’t leave you.”
“The day I’m too weak to get in a tub on my own is the day I kill myself,” Vivid retorted. “Get out.”
Scorch lingered a moment longer, hesitant to leave Vivid alone. He left only when the cat hissed at him and pawed at his heels. “Holler for me if you need help,” Scorch called over his shoulder, to which Vivid replied with a harsh, “I would rather drown.”
Merric and Felix were waiting outside the baths, Merric leaning against the wall while Felix smiled shyly in front of him. Scorch coughed to announce his presence.
“Kicked out again?” Merric asked, and Scorch told him to be quiet; he had to be able to hear if Vivid needed him.
****
Vivid accomplished bathing without incident, emerging from the baths smelling clean and looking healthy. His haircut was jarring, but the more Scorch looked at it, the more he liked it. Vivid’s hand kept going to his forehead, though, to tuck hair that wasn’t there behind his ear. And he kept pulling at his loose clothing, collarbones flashing.
They walked back to the tent together, Vivid still leaning on Scorch for support, but not nearly as much as before. It seemed the food and bath had done wonders for his strength. When Scorch opened the tent flap for him, he scowled and headed for the riverbank instead. They walked to the camp Merric and Felix had set up, and Vivid sat in the grass by the water. Scorch waved off Merric, who’d been walking several paces behind them, and went to sit by Vivid’s side.
His hand was extended over the water, palm up, and he wore a worried crease between his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” asked Scorch.
Vivid shook his head.
“Tell me.”
“I can’t feel it.” When Scorch tilted his head in confusion, Vivid clarified. “The air.”
“Oh.” Amidst the threat of Vivid’s death, Scorch had blocked out the rest of it. Kio’s words, the burning of the monks, the table full of potions and herbs. He had not considered what would happen, if Vivid survived but his powers did not.
“The injections Kio gave you,” he said. “Did she tell you what they were for?”
“Yes.” Without warning, Vivid’s hand reached for Scorch’s, linking their fingers. “Fire and air breathe into each other,” he said, closing his eyes and squeezing Scorch’s hand.
Scorch recalled the night he first made his elemental power work, and how holding Vivid’s hand had helped harness his control. Understanding, he closed his eyes and summoned warmth to the palm of his hand, willing his strength into Vivid the only way he knew how. The skin of their touching palms began to sweat. But he felt no wind.
They sat for several minutes, Vivid trying to call to the air while Scorch tried to help, but it was no use. When Vivid finally pulled his hand back, he looked annoyed.
“You’re still recovering,” Scorch said. “It will come back to you.”
“Don’t try to placate me.”
“I’m not. We don’t know if what she did was permanent.”
“The last time the monks had me as their prisoner, the damage was permanent,” Vivid hissed, and Scorch’s eyes slid down to his shoulder, where his scars were shining and prominent in the sunshine. “Thinking otherwise now would do more harm than good.” He stood from the bank too quickly and Scorch almost didn’t catch him before he fell. “Let go of me,” Vivid barked, peeling Scorch’s fingers from his waist and pushing him away.
As much as Scorch wished to comfort him, he knew his efforts would be lost to angry ears. He let Vivid stomp past him to the camp, where he sat beside the dead embers and glared. A cool wind made Vivid shiver, so Scorch waved his hand in front of the fire until it crackled to life. Vivid didn’t thank him for the warmth, or speak to him at all for several hours, but Scorch hadn’t expected him to, and he wasn’t offended. He was furious at Kio for all the hurt she’d caused, and he found himself wishing she was alive just so he could kill her again, after he asked her how to reverse what she had done.
****
A week passed by, fast and slow. Vivid grew physically stronger every day, walking on his own and exercising in the mornings, solitary and vigorous. Scorch would eat breakfast with Felix and Merric and try not to stare too obviously as Vivid stretched and lunged and got sweaty in the cold air. His pallor was healthier, no trace of the scarily grey tones. And he had finally stopped trying to tuck his hair behind his ear, possibly the greatest victory of all.
But mentally, something was off, and the cause was no secret to Scorch. He would watch Vivid daily, sitting beside the river and trying to summon the wind, but it would never come. Every day it didn’t return, Vivid lost more faith it ever would. Scorch might have considered it a gift to never need worry about being an elemental, but to Vivid, it was a punishment.
If Vivid was prickly before, now he was impossible. When he wasn’t staring morosely into the river, he was brandishing insults like one of his daggers. Merric and Felix kept their distance, trading worried glances as they tracked the assassin from afar, but Scorch refused. He refused to leave Vivid alone with his ill, self-flagellating moods. One day, as Vivid barraged him with one cruelty after another, he finally lost his temper.
“Enough!” he yelled, grabbing Vivid by the collar and hoisting him to his feet.
“Don’t touch me,” Vivid growled, directing an elbow at his stomach, but Scorch was ready for it. He caught Vivid’s wrist and bent low, hefting the smaller man over his shoulder. Vivid kicked wildly and twisted his body, trying to get down, but Scorch had a firm grip, and he couldn’t squirm free.
Merric and Felix watched with horrified faces as Scorch stomped past them, Vivid cursing as he struggled over his shoulder. There were a lot of death threats, but Scorch was used to those. When he finally let Vivid go, they were in the empty training ring, where Scorch used to take his sparring lessons. He threw Vivid down, not trying to be gentle. Vivid rolled and landed on his feet.
“Fight me,” Scorch demanded needlessly, for Vivid was already attacking, launching himself forward.
It had been a spell since Scorch fought without having his life on the line, but that was assuming Vivid wasn’t actually trying to murder him, and, going by the way he was currently strangling him, that was up for debate.
Scorch broke out of Vivid’s chokehold and punched, knowing it would be blocked, which it was. Despite being brought back from the brink of death a little over a week ago, Vivid moved like quicksilver, delivering blows and kicks with an efficiency that had Scorch backing up to the edge of the ring. The last time Scorch fought Vivid, they’d been in the Circle, and Vivid’s ferocity was even greater now as he jumped, wrapped his legs around Scorch’s middle, and toppled them both to the ground. They rolled in the dirt, and within seconds, Vivid had him on his back with a forearm braced against his throat.
“This feels familiar,” Scorch wheezed.
“It could end differently this time,” Vivid warned, his voice tight.
“It could,” Scorch agreed. “You could kill me if you wanted to. Because even without your elemental powers, you’re amazing.”
Vivid was off him in a second, kicking him angrily in the side before backing away. “What is this? A ruse to make me believe in myself? Are you a child?”
“Are you?” Scorch asked, sitting up. “You’ve been acting like one ever since you lost your power.”
“Shut up.” Vivid spun around to walk away, but Scorch clamored to his feet and latched onto his shoulder, catching him before he reached the ring fence.
“Stop telling me to shut up,” Scorch exclaimed, spinning Vivid around to face him. “Stop acting like your life is over because of what Kio did to you. She wanted to break you, like she wanted to break all elementals, like the High Priestess did, but they couldn’t do it. They couldn’t break you because you’re unbreakable, Vivid. You don’t need to control the air to be the strongest person I know.”
Vivid shook off Scorch’s hands and tried to get around him. “Who are you to judge my strength?”
“I’d be no one at all if it wasn’t for you,” Scorch said, blocking Vivid’s path.
Vivid kneed him in the gut, tossed him out of his way, and then vaulted over the fence. “That doesn’t mean I owe you anything. Leave me alone.” He turned his back and walked off.
Scorch slammed his hand on the wooden fence, giving himself a splinter. He called out after Vivid’s retreating back. “I don’t want to leave you alone!”
Vivid kept walking and Scorch stalked off in the other direction, toward the center of the sparring ring. He kicked up angry clouds of dirt and pulled at his hair. Fire roiled inside him and he let a burst of sparks shoot from his fingertips into the air, like livid little fireworks.
His body was a rod of tension, the fight with Vivid unfinished and unsatisfying. It had not been what he wanted. Scorch wanted to lay his hands on him and shake him until he understood. He didn’t want to hurt Vivid, didn’t want him to hurt at all, ever. He wanted—Gods, he just wanted. He let out a pained sigh, head tipped to the sky.
Suddenly, his legs were swept from under him and Scorch fell on his back, all the air whooshing from his lungs. When Vivid crawled over him and grabbed fistfuls of his hair, he could breathe again, but it wasn’t a normal breath, it was a gasp, because Vivid’s eyes were wild.
Scorch’s heart pounded. “What are you doing? The fight’s over,” he said, his voice ragged.
Vivid’s fingers flexed in Scorch’s hair. “But I haven’t won yet.”
And then Vivid kissed him.
It was a soft, careful press of lips, and by the time Scorch regained his senses enough to reciprocate, Vivid was pulling away. Scorch’s hands wrapped around the back of his neck to keep him close. They breathed in and out, their noses bumping together, and then Vivid kissed him again.
Scorch heard himself moan pitifully as he returned Vivid’s rough affection, but he was too overwhelmed to feel self-conscious, to feel anything at all except Vivid’s lips on his and his hands threading greedily through his hair. Vivid was kissing him,
and that was the only thought his brain had room for; that and please, Gods, don’t ever let this end.
Unfortunately, they had to breathe eventually, but when they separated, it was a brief, necessary evil, and Scorch spent it flipping them over so he could better kiss Vivid into the ground. At first, doubt fluttered in his stomach, because Vivid tensed beneath his body, but then his hands were winding around Scorch’s shoulders and drawing him in and his doubt vanished. His hand roamed down Vivid’s side, and Vivid answered with a needy roll of his hips, so Scorch smoothed his hand down his thigh and hiked up his leg to wrap around his waist.
When Vivid opened his mouth to the kiss, Scorch seriously considered the possibility that Vivid had killed him and he was in the midst of some insanely worthwhile afterlife. It seemed like the only explanation that made sense. Vivid had kissed him, was still kissing him, and showed no sign of ever wanting to stop.
His lips were soft, his tongue was hot and demanding, and his hands were confident, palming over Scorch’s biceps and shoulders and backside like he was his to touch and grope as he pleased, and he was. Scorch was a malleable thing in Vivid’s hands, an element to be commanded, and every kiss and every sigh and every slide of hips made him spark on the inside. He was amazed he’d not set them both on fire yet. When Vivid’s mouth migrated to suck a bruising kiss to the underside of his jaw, he nearly did.
“Erm, I hate to interrupt,” voiced a sudden addition to the lusty fray of the training ring and/or Scorch’s highly enjoyable afterlife, “but Merric says you both need to come straight away.”
Scorch and Vivid pulled apart, and Felix coughed uncomfortably as they stood up and brushed the dirt from their clothes.
“What is it, Felix?” asked Scorch, trying not to sound monstrously disappointed that Vivid was now too far away to touch. But his lips were kiss-swollen, and that was because of him, so he couldn’t help the swell of pride as he faced the flautist.
The Sun Guardian Page 33
