The one hope he clung to was that he might find out more about what had happened to Teffaine. If he found she was alive, perhaps Denua would release her, let her go home. Loving Denua would be forgivable if he could use that love to heal his family.
He shook his head to clear it as he entered the shopping district’s gate.
A wide avenue stretched before him with a row of luxury storefronts down each side, and in the center was an area where tent canopies covered temporary vending stalls. Shoppers strolled down the street and through the stalls, the men in their finery and the women wearing brightly colored gowns and carrying parasols. Occasionally someone would make a purchase and a servant would rush away to carry the treasure to a home or carriage. Evin stood a moment to watch the bustle and take in the sights and smells of the market.
He wasn’t looking forward to going into the snootier shops, so he decided to visit the stalls in the open air first. Evin detected a mouthwatering aroma of meat pies and considered buying one. But first he simply walked to the closest stall to see what was on offer.
The stall keeper, an old woman, saw the palace guards. She feigned utter delight to see Evin. “Welcome, your lordship! Might I demonstrate any item?”
Evin was nervous about the mistaken honorific. He glanced at his guards, but they offered no reaction. “I don’t have a title, madame.”
“Ah, your honor,” she said.
“What are these things?” Evin scanned the array of objects.
“This”—she touched a wand—“be a cleansing wand that remove dirt from your honor’s loverly clothes.”
“I’m familiar with those.”
“I sell many a one to fine dandies—not gentlemen such as your honor, acourse—who need a way to…freshen themselves after a hard night on the town. Before going home to the little lady, as it be.”
“And these green shells here. How are they sorceled?”
“Ah, now these loverlies are also popular with the dandies! There be a special powder within, to help a reveler keep vital during those forementioned nights on the town.”
“I see.”
“And for the morning after, this be the trick.” She handed him a small stone from the other end of her lineup. When she put it into his palm, a wave of warmth washed quickly through him. “Touch it to dispel all effects of drink and drunkenness.”
Indeed he felt refreshed, as if all the wine he had drunk these weeks in the palace had dulled him and, by touching the stone, he returned fully to life.
All the stall keeper’s items held simple sorcelments that would ease small aspects of daily life. As Amaury had explained, the queen permitted the sale of such objects because of their limited and unthreatening utility. Even so, they were items rarely if ever seen in Evin’s village. The cleansing wand in particular was useful enough to be a good gift for his mother but not so exotic as to make other village folk jealous. In the end, he purchased a cleansing wand for his mother and soberstones for his father and himself.
Evin finished his purchase, then asked the way to a jewelry shop Uliette had mentioned. The stall keeper knew of it, and so after he understood her directions, he started to go there.
As his group passed the stall where the meat pies were sold, his eye was drawn to the man who cooked the pies on a griddle suspended above a fire pit. The cook’s hair was black and curly, and he had a strip of beard along the jawline, reminding Evin strongly of—
“Gareth,” he whispered, and time stopped.
Something crashed open and flooded within him, grief that had been shut away until this moment. Evin stumbled over to the wooden bench behind the meat pie vendor’s stall. He sat down heavily, overcome by a whirlwind of misery. His hands shook. He stared down at them, seeing them from far away. It was as if he were in the bottom of a well, looking up at a picture of the world. Everything was upside down inside.
Oh, Gareth, no.
Evin had promised to protect him but had only got him killed. And Gareth had loved Evin; he’d said as much by mistake. How had Evin repaid his trust and love? What kind of monster could betray someone so thoroughly, then betray his memory by forgetting?
What is wrong with me?
His nose was running. He snuffled and used a rough, brocaded sleeve to dry his eyes, then gave up. He crossed his arms on his knees and bent to press his face into them. He rocked a little as he cried, ignoring a hand on his shoulder and whoever was asking if he was all right.
Chapter Twenty
Simone rapped on the sitting room door. Evin opened it shortly but scowled when he saw her and simply returned to sprawl in one of the chairs positioned before the unlit fireplace. He bade her sit with a languid gesture.
Doesn’t take long to learn a noble’s petulance, I suppose. She took a seat.
“I heard there was some trouble in the market today,” she said.
He made an exasperated noise. “How much trouble am I gonna be in for that? I had a weak moment. I’m tired of hearing about it already.”
She noted his half-empty goblet on the table by his chair. He’s still upset. Drinking to calm himself. “I’m afraid you have no choice, son. I must learn what happened and why. My men and I will protect the queen. This is to protect you too.”
“You weren’t there. That old lady was nice to me. She sold me some trinkets and she was polite and they tore her stand apart. They were talking about taking her to the dungeon to make her say what she did to me, but she didn’t do anything!” His hands shook as he drank, but he glared at her defiantly.
“What did you touch when you were at the market?”
“The stuff I bought. The guards took it all. Nothing else. Nobody touched me before I got sad. Nobody.”
She sat back in her chair and appraised him. Naturally he’s angry, because he’s embarrassed. Yes, but his concern for the old woman seemed sincere. How many pretty Parigian youths would care a fig about the merchant woman?
She softened her voice. “You just felt upset? You don’t think anyone did anything to you in the market?”
“Exactly. How many times do I have to say it?”
“No more. I believe you. All right?”
Evin’s eyes searched her face for a moment; then he visibly relaxed. He adjusted himself in the chair as if a parent had scolded him for his posture. “Okay. Thank you.”
“Will you tell me what upset you?”
His gaze moved away. “Everything’s changed. Don’t you understand that?”
“Because you live in the palace now?”
“Yes. And…”
“You can tell me, Evin. It’s okay.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, and a look crossed his face. A forlorn sadness that he must not want her to see, because he hid it almost immediately. All expression vanished from his face. Unexpected sympathy welled up in her, a foolish desire to fix everything for him.
“I had a friend,” he said in a controlled voice. “He was good. And he died. Someone at the market looked like him.”
“Do you want to tell me about him?”
He shook his head and used fingertips to wipe at his eyes.
“You were hunting the demon that killed your friend when Cydrich—”
“Used me. Almost killed me.”
“Yes,” she answered softly. No doubt that his distress was genuine. It hadn’t been an attack at the market, after all. He just needed to grieve. It’s a wonder he held together this long.
But no, it wasn’t a wonder. He was strong. How many men would have been driven insane by what Cydrich had done, compelling Evin to make the long march without rest as his body failed, dying of thirst? Anyone would have gone mad. I would have.
And what came after? He was an invalid here in the palace for weeks. Brought back to health only because Denua wanted him. Because she had the sorcelry to keep him. Because he was too pretty a treasure to pass up.
Let him mourn his friend. At least that part of his mind is his own.
Evin had finished wipi
ng at his eyes. He watched her now with a measuring look, and she took the uncomfortable notion that he could hear her thoughts.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve been rude. Would you like some wine, Captain?” He held his goblet out to her.
“No! No. I need to go. I’ve done what I needed to do here.”
He nodded, his gaze locked on her own.
“Except I think I can help you feel better about today. Her Majesty’s sorcelers are required to examine the things we bring into the palace. They will return all the devices you purchased, as long as none are tainted with blood sorcelry. They would have been borrowed from you for examination no matter what. Do you see?”
“Oh. Yes. I guess so. But the old woman—”
“She is fine. She’s not in the dungeon. We know where she is, and she will go to the dungeon if any of the items you bought are tainted, but honestly, I don’t expect it.”
“It’s just, she was perfectly nice, like anybody here in the castle. She didn’t deserve the way they treated her.”
“Well, the queen might be willing to pay her something to make up for the trouble. I could ask. Would you like that?”
“Yes. Please.” He seemed honestly relieved by the promise of making amends to an old merchant who meant less than nothing to anyone. Certainly anyone Simone Uliette knew. Sweet farm boy.
Denua’s sweet farm boy.
Chapter Twenty-one
Gareth collapsed into his cot after another long night of training.
Devinyeau told him why he had been trained with weapons. The bow was for enemies who used ranged weapons against him from high up. The sword would be used as Father taught him, to deflect blows and cut the arms off attackers before they got too close. But Gareth had a special weapon. The claw of his free hand. In some ways it would be his best, because he couldn’t drop it and he could kill with it no matter how close a foe came. No matter how many leaped on him, he could tear them all up.
Cydrich told him that if anyone managed to chop off his hand or arm, he should pick it up and stick it back on, so it could heal and he wouldn’t have to wait for it to regrow.
But nobody told him who he would fight or why.
He curled up in the bed, exhausted but trying to stay awake to see at least a little of the daylight through his cell’s window. Months ago when he lived with his parents, he might have thought having the window a great kindness, especially because it didn’t have bars. He could climb out of it at any time.
He could if he were free.
When sunlight warmed his cheek, he sighed and rolled onto his back.
Evin stood watching from the corner of the room.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Gareth said.
“I’ll only stay a little while.” Evin moved to the side of the cot and put his hands on Gareth’s body. Gareth discovered he had forgotten his nightshirt. He lay naked under Evin’s hands, and they warmed him so.
Evin stroked Gareth’s stomach, letting his hands curl over each of the bunched muscles. He put a finger, white as bone against a field of grass, into the cup of Gareth’s navel and stroked around it. Stretching it as if preparing it for fucking. His touch tickled Gareth down to his spine.
Gareth put a hand on Evin’s soft back cheek, petting it, kneading it gently. “I didn’t have my bath today. I was too tired.”
“You always are. All the training. You know I don’t mind.” Evin moved his hands apart. He took Gareth’s cock and stroked gently, making the sheath of skin cover and reveal the tip. It throbbed in its hardness. So many months had passed since he’d been touched with small, hot hands. Evin stroked fingers around his nipples too and pinched them, sending bolts of the good tickle flashing through him between the places Evin stroked.
He wanted to close his eyes and experience touch alone, but then he wouldn’t be able to watch Evin. The copper in his hair really was ablaze in the day, just like Gareth used to imagine. It looked dangerous to touch.
No matter what Evin said, he was the beautiful one. With his soft, sure smile. Kind eyes. Perfect white skin and fuzziness.
He knew what he did to Gareth, the fires he kindled with his touches, with his kisses, with every part of his body. Fires that burned without hurting, that made Gareth want to burn with him forever and ever. And he looked down at Gareth, and whatever he saw in Gareth made him smile.
It would be worth enduring anything to keep him safe.
Evin’s breeches dropped away, and Gareth pressed in to get his finger to the place Evin liked. As he touched the warm hole, he found it already slick with spit. Plenty.
“I prepared for you. See?” Evin asked. “I want you inside. I want us to join, like we’re supposed to.”
“Like we can’t no more,” Gareth said. He spat in his hand and took over for Evin stroking his cock.
Evin said, “It’s not your fault. You said you’d believe me.”
“No, not my fault. My parents were going to give me to him anyway. I got to be happy for a little while. You knew me and let me love you.”
Evin straddled Gareth’s body and engulfed him, quick as a mouth or stroking hand.
They moaned together.
Evin’s hot, quivering tightness embraced him completely. “You’re good at everything we try,” Evin said. And in a moment, he started to move.
Gareth did have to close his eyes then, because like rubbing sticks together, the slick places of their flesh stroked together inside Evin and caught flame. Licks and tongues of it raced up and down Gareth’s cock, burning in the good way, making him want to burn more.
That was what he needed to tell Evin.
Evin surged above him, holding to Gareth’s chest—not forgetting to knead Gareth’s nipples—clenching and rising and falling, bringing Gareth close. The fire took over, and Gareth couldn’t remain still. He moved his hips; he couldn’t stop it. He rose to meet as Evin fell, slamming into him. “I love it. I love it,” Evin said.
He fucked faster and harder. His own breath came in gasps, and still Evin begged for more. He could feel the tip of his cock hitting that perfect place inside Evin, and he balanced on the edge.
“Oh, Gareth, I love it!”
They broke together, and floods came to calm the fires. Gareth’s seed pulsed into Evin again and again, and it seemed Evin matched every drop.
Gareth drifted down slowly.
Evin still knelt, impaled on him. Still smiling at whatever he saw in Gareth. Still smiling, but the words he spoke were simple truth.
“All of this is finished,” Evin said.
“I know,” Gareth said. “I have to do the job soon.”
“Yes.”
“Remember, I asked if I’m cursed for something I haven’t done yet?”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I’m sorry, Evin. I don’t know what it is, but I think I have to do it now. I can’t stop it. I can’t, or he’ll hurt you and keep hurting you till you die.”
“You’re going to protect me.” Evin swirled his hand in the seed on Gareth’s chest.
“I’m supposed to kill people, I think. Lots of real people, not like me. I don’t want to.”
Evin nodded. “You try to find a way to take the blame for everything.”
Gareth looked out to the sunlit day. He wouldn’t be able to say it if he saw Evin’s face. “When you go back, will you tell them? Will you warn them? Tell them about the fire. Tell everyone about the fire. If they can burn me first, I won’t have to kill nobody, and you’ll be safe forever.”
Silence.
“Evin? I told you I loved you once. On accident, but it’s true. Before, when it was you and me… You never said—”
Gareth looked back from the window and found he was alone in the cell.
Chapter Twenty-two
Gareth sat inside Cydrich’s traveling wagon as it rattled and jounced on a rough road through the woods. They had left the good road a while ago. The wagon was a little house on a cart. Gareth could look out the windo
w to see the trees passing by. He had seen signs along the way too. If only he could read, he might know where they were.
Gareth was in the larger of the wagon’s two rooms, in the back. He shared the space with a coffin-sized wooden box locked with bands and seals, a chest of Gareth’s soldier equipment, bags of horse feed, and bags of powder in many colors, which Cydrich said would make paint. Cydrich was in the wagon’s other little room, the one with a bed and a chair, making what he called his final preparations. He had put a pendant on the horse, one that somehow made it pull them wherever he intended to go. He had to, because the horse was so frightened of Gareth that it would only have tried to run away.
They left the tree line and trundled into a field. Dawn would come soon. The sky had begun its change from nighttime blue to daytime white. But with snow everywhere, they wouldn’t be hidden even in what remained of the darkness.
The cart stopped moving.
Cydrich came out of his room. He was dressed in a black robe with a hood. He grinned at Gareth, picked his way through the cart, took a feed bag, and left through the wide back door.
Gareth followed. He halted for a moment when he saw the great wall on the other side of the field, which stood at least four times his height and curved away into the distance in either direction. Behind it, snowy rooftops and, much farther behind, impossibly large buildings. Not like Cydrich’s home, which was a single tower, but great buildings that sprouted towers. Rhyd had once said the world contained hamlets and villages and towns and cities and kingdoms. Gareth wondered which this place was.
Cydrich had put the feed bag on the horse’s bridle and ordered it to eat. The pendant hanging on its neck forced it to do so. It stood unnaturally still and ate, though its eyes rolled without ceasing.
It could smell Gareth even when he was inside the wagon, he presumed. It had marched for leagues in terror of him. The thought made him sick. He put a hand on the horse’s rump to soothe it, to demonstrate that he didn’t want to eat it or hurt it at all.
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