Of the Mortal Realm

by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

  Returning to the bedroom, Hansa belatedly spotted the note on top of the dresser. He skimmed it, expecting it to say Umber had gone to the market, or something mundane like that.

  Hansa, I’ve gone to speak with Terre Verte. Stay in the house. You’ll be safe here. I will return as soon as I have news. —Umber

  A wave of hot-and-cold fury washed over him, and he heard his voice exclaim, “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

  The door across the hall had just opened, and Lydie froze in it, eyes widening at his hostility. She looked like she might bolt, but Hansa couldn’t find the words to explain. Instead, he pushed the note toward her and turned back toward the room to find a shirt.

  “‘Stay in the house,’” he spat as he finished dressing. “He is out of his Abyss-cross mind is what he is.”

  “He’s going to Terre Verte?” Lydie asked. “I thought—”

  “He’s gone to talk to him about breaking the bond,” Hansa growled, as he collapsed next to his boots in order to pull them on.

  “Didn’t you want the bond broken?” Lydie asked.

  The answer to that question, Hansa could admit to himself, was incredibly complicated. His inner conflict, however, wasn’t why Umber’s latest move infuriated him.

  “Terre Verte is collecting mancers,” he bit out. “Abyssumancers are dangerous to him. To both of us. I don’t know what is going through his head that makes him think going there is a good idea but I’ll be branded before I’ll let him do this alone.”

  Hansa had thought he knew all there was to know about Abyssumancers from his time in the 126, but Umber had taught him how naïve he had been. As a guard in the 126, he had been nothing but a threat to an Abyssumancer, which meant they had tried to avoid him or, failing that, just kill him. A half-Abyssi spawn could be so much more—most especially a pure, easy source of power—which meant an Abyssumancer had strong motive to seek one out and find a way to trap and control him.

  Why would Umber have risked it? Why now of all times? Hansa knew this bond hadn’t been Umber’s choice, but he hadn’t thought the spawn was miserable enough to do something like this.

  “I can make it to Amaranth Farms in about an hour on horseback.”

  He didn’t wait to hear Lydie’s further thoughts on the situation. She would be able to tell Cadmia where he went, so he didn’t even bother to leave another note. Fueled by fear and fury, for once he didn’t hesitate to use the knife Umber had given him to draw blood as he crossed the front hall. He pulled his veils into place, hiding his power, then sought the stables. Umber’s favorite horse was missing, but Hansa had ridden the sorrel mare left behind before, and knew she was a good mount.

  He tried to be subtle. He stabled the mare at a public inn about a mile before Amaranth and approached the farm on foot, arriving around dusk. A stream, just a little too wide to hop over, marked the southern boundary. The bridge was occupied by a woman dressed in what might have passed for a farmhand’s clothes, if they hadn’t looked quite so crisp and new.

  Her posture as she leaned on the rail and watched the water below appeared casual, but he wasn’t surprised when she stepped back to block his way as he approached, tossing curly hair out of her face.

  “Can I help you?” she asked. Hansa couldn’t see power on her, but that meant little given his limited ability—either she didn’t have Abyssal power, or she was hiding it the same way he was.

  “I’m on my way to visit a friend,” he said, trying to sound casual as he continued to walk forward, wondering whether she would try to stop him and what he planned to do in response.

  She did move in front of him, then hesitated, letting out a startled, “Oh!” Brown eyes assessed him frankly, traveling down and then back up his body. “Hansa. I didn’t recognize you right away. Not a bad job on the power veil, all things considered. It’s a little patchy here, though.” She started to reach forward, and he jerked back. In order to see Abyssal power, she needed to have some herself. That meant she was probably an Abyssumancer.

  “Do you know where I can find Umber?” he asked. Given she apparently knew who and what he was, there was no point in trying to conceal his intention.

  She frowned, thoughtful, apparently not offended by his instinctive recoil. “He was here earlier. Xaz took him to see Terre Verte.”

  Given Hansa could still feel the bond as a coil of power in his viscera and a persistent itch across his flesh—one he always felt when Umber was more than arm’s length away—Verte clearly hadn’t made good on his promise yet. That didn’t mean he couldn’t do so at any moment.

  Before Hansa could ask if she could bring him to Verte and Umber, the Abyssumancer leaned back against the railing again and dropped the veils over her power the way a lover might drop a piece of clothing. This time, as she sized him up more slowly and deliberately than before, he felt her gaze as a hot caress that pushed his own disguising spell aside.

  Even with her standing several feet away, the “touch” made him squirm and say, “I’m not interested in women.”

  It was more polite than saying, I will shove you off this bridge if you don’t stop that. It was also strangely odd to say. Despite his relationship with Umber, he thought this might be the first time he had admitted the full truth aloud.

  “And Cupric doesn’t usually like men,” the Abyssumancer said with a shrug. “It’s always possible to make an exception for the right kind of power. Personally, I’m—”

  “Keppel, leave him alone.” And there was one of the last people Hansa had ever expected to be so grateful to see. Hansa’s stomach did a strange twist as he looked at Cupric and felt relief and dislike war inside him. “I felt you cross the wards and thought I should come out to greet you. And rescue you, if necessary.”

  Keppel crossed her arms with a “hrumph.” “I know the rules,” she said. “I was just talking, wasn’t I?” she asked Hansa. At his expression, she laughed. “Flirting, I’ll admit to,” she added, “but we both know it would take me a few drops of blood and about three seconds to rip that disguising spell off you and have you like a cheap doxie under this bridge, no matter what your normal interests. Given you and your friends in the One-Twenty-Six ran me out of my last house a few months back, I figure you owe me.” At Cupric’s warning look, she shrugged. “But Terre Verte says we need to be polite.”

  “I’m looking for Umber,” Hansa said to Cupric, a bit desperately. There was no point in responding to Keppel, since he believed every word she said. The fleshbond made him especially susceptible to Abyssumancer coercion, and unlike Umber, he didn’t have a lifetime of practice defending himself.

  For a fraction of a second, Cupric’s jovial expression darkened. It returned to normal before Hansa could fully register the new emotion on his face, but the fracture in his composure was enough to make Hansa start walking.

  Given Terre Verte’s clear preference for the best, and his disregard of anyone else’s opinion, Hansa guessed he would have claimed the main house, so he turned his steps that direction. There was a curl of smoke rising from the chimney.

  “He’s meeting with the Terre,” Cupric said, shadowing Hansa. Keppel’s laughter followed them.

  The words made Hansa’s heart skip a beat, but he tried to hide that. He continued walking.

  What would happen, he wondered idly, if the bond to Umber snapped while Hansa was here? Someone like Keppel might be less interested in him as an easy source of power, but the mancers here had plenty of reason to hate him. Without his tie to Umber, would Verte’s “rules” still defend him?

  “It would probably be best if we didn’t interrupt,” Cupric added, lengthening his stride to keep up.

  “I don’t care what’s ‘best,’” Hansa replied with a cold smile.

  The main house wasn’t set far from the road. Hansa had almost reached it when Cupric grabbed his arm and pulled him around. “Okay, I lied to you!”

  “Where is he, then?” Hansa asked, his stomach plummeting as he pictured all the troub
le Umber could have run into.

  “He’s all right, he just . . .” Cupric hesitated, and ran a hand through his dark blond hair. “He’s asleep.”

  “Why would he . . .”

  Oh.

  Oh.

  “I felt you crossing the wards,” Cupric said. “I thought I should intercept you before you walked in.”

  It was possible that this man wasn’t a complete bastard, but it was still very, very difficult in that moment for Hansa not to fling himself forward and try to strangle him. Even more so when he said, “Look. I know this is a stupid time to ask, and you didn’t like me very much in the first place . . . but I have a favor I need to ask of you.”

  Hansa was sure his expression said everything that needed to be said. Cupric had saved him from Keppel, yes, though it sounded like Verte’s rules would have kept her off him anyway, but Hansa didn’t owe him favors.

  Cupric drew a slow breath. “There’s a document Terre Verte wants. Now, you’ve met the prince, so I’m sure you understand why I don’t want to be the one to tell him I can’t do something he has ordered me to do.”

  Having seen Verte break a man’s neck without hesitation, Hansa could understand fearing how he might react to disappointment. “I don’t know Verte’s plans,” Hansa said, “and I’m not sure I want to help him with them.”

  “If he wants it so badly, he’ll find a way to get it eventually. At least if you help, you will have a chance to look at it first.” Cupric shifted his weight. “I don’t disagree with you that he is unpredictable and potentially dangerous. I’m on his side because the Quin are, in my book, just as dangerous. But I’m in this for myself and people I care about—people like Umber. So if you find the thing and think it’s too dangerous to give it to Terre Verte, that’s a decision I’m comfortable leaving in your hands.”

  Hansa sighed, trying to listen to Cupric’s arguments rationally, despite his savage dislike of the man. “What is this document, and why do you need my help to retrieve it?”

  “The Terre wasn’t very specific—he said it was from just after the fall of the royal house, has to do with regulating sorcery, and won’t be public.”

  “And you can’t get into restricted areas,” Hansa said, recognizing the problem.

  Cupric nodded.

  Supposedly, Winsor Indathrone’s personal library contained copies of materials the Quinacridone considered inappropriate for public consumption. Hansa could probably get to it.

  “I’ll . . . try,” Hansa agreed, reluctantly. “If you’ll do something for me.”

  “What?” Cupric asked, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

  “Delay Umber’s meeting with Terre Verte.” Hansa didn’t know what Verte would say; the last time they had spoken with him about the bond, he had said he would need to study it extensively before he had a chance of breaking it without harming them both. Hansa just knew he didn’t want that bond to snap when he wasn’t there. When he hadn’t had a chance to talk to Umber again.

  Cupric quirked one brow. “I can do that.” The expression and tone were familiar; Hansa had seen and heard Umber make both. One of them must have picked the tendency up from the other. “And, thank you, Hansa. I doubt the Terre would be willing to see Umber today, anyway—he has been doing some very difficult, tiring work—but I will delay Umber if necessary.”

  Hansa decided not to think too hard about how that “delay” might be accomplished.

  “If I can find what you’re looking for at all, I should be back before dawn,” Hansa said.

  That was assuming he could restore the mask over his power that Keppel had damaged, and keep it up long enough to get to the Quinacridone, make excuses to the guards there, look for the document, and get back here.

  He wouldn’t be in any better shape if he waited, though. Not unless he had Umber with him.

  “I’ll keep him safe while you’re gone,” Cupric said. “I’m stronger than any of the other Abyssumancers here, so I can make sure they stay away even if they’re inclined to break Verte’s rules.”

  Hansa nodded silently, not wanting to go but knowing he might as well do this now.

  He had just turned to leave when Cupric grabbed his wrist to pull him back, then close. The kiss wasn’t lingering or even invasive, but it wasn’t called for, either. Hansa jumped back, rubbing at his lips with his wrist.

  “What was—?”

  “To tide you over,” Cupric said, at which point Hansa realized that in the brief contact, Cupric had pushed power into him. Familiar power. Umber’s.

  “How . . .”

  “I had two boons of Umber once,” Cupric explained. “It was years ago, but the connection lingers enough that I can draw on it. You need the power to make it to the city and back safely, and to keep from unraveling from the effects of being without your bond-master. That will hold you a while.”

  Hansa started to open his mouth to ask another question, maybe about the boons or about Umber or about how Cupric had just done that . . .

  Then he shut his mouth, because there wasn’t a thing he wanted to know.

  He returned to the inn stables and mounted his horse, one very clear thought pulsing in his mind: You are an Abyss-damned coward, Hansa Viridian.

  He had probably been less than a hundred yards away from Umber. He could have pushed open that door and spoken to him, to at least let him know he wasn’t ready yet for this bond to be broken. Maybe Umber would have laughed at him; maybe Umber would have explained why it needed to be done now.

  Maybe the explanation would have involved his other lover.

  Either way, Hansa had grabbed onto Cupric’s “favor” like a drowning man grabbing onto a sinking anchor because it was easier than thrashing at the surface waiting for sharks. True, Cupric had made some persuasive arguments; knowing information Terre Verte wanted before he managed to get it could only help them. But that was not why Hansa had agreed, and unfortunately, even Hansa knew it.

  Chapter 16

  Umber

  Umber opened his eyes, trying to remember where he was, and why.

  He was on a bed. That much was obvious. He was naked. Also obvious. Every muscle in his body ached deeply, in a way that meant both physical use and a lot of burned power.

  Oh. Of course. Cupric.

  Umber rolled from his back onto his side, a prerequisite to sitting up. It had been a long time since his body had taken that level of abuse, and even if it felt good at the time, he wouldn’t be up to dancing for a while. How long had he slept?

  The thought gave him enough adrenaline to let him shove himself to his feet. How long had he slept? When Umber had been younger, Cupric’s particular variety of sex had been enough to put him under for a week, if the Abyssumancer wasn’t careful. Umber hadn’t meant to leave Hansa for more than a few hours, much less the possible days he could have been here.

  Outside, night had fallen, leaving the room full of shadows and Umber struggling to orient himself. The rope-frame bed he was on took up most of the room. A clothing chest doubled as an end table and held an oil lamp, which Umber lit with a thought and a burst of power as soon as he found it. Blankets shoved from the bed occupied the only remaining floor space.

  The door opened to frame Cupric within it, his fair body lithe and perfect in the shadows. He had always been comfortable in the nude; he would dress only if he had to. Umber knew Cupric had a knife on him, probably held by a sheath on his thigh or upper arm, but it was concealed by the same spell Umber often used.

  “You’ve grown up, Attish,” Cupric observed with a wolfish smile. He crossed the room, kicking blankets out of his way as necessary. “I think I like it.” He smoothed his hands around Umber’s waist, the grip firm. “I also like that you’re still not taller than I am.”

  One abrupt shove, and Umber was on his back on the bed again. He caught himself on an elbow, trying to leverage himself out of the way before Cupric could join him—unsuccessfully. He was still shaky and exhausted. He wasn’t up to evasive maneuver
s.

  “I can’t be doing this,” he managed to say before Cupric pinned him with one hand on his shoulder and the other twined in his hair, holding him to the bed. “Hansa won’t be—”

  “Hansa will be fine for a while,” Cupric said. “I gave him some of the power I pulled off you the first time.”

  “You saw him? When? Was he here? Is he still here?”

  “Hush,” Cupric whispered, leaning down to brush his lips over Umber’s. “He came looking for you while you were sleeping. I didn’t think either of you wanted him to see you in this condition, so I sent him off to run an errand for me.”

  After that, Cupric obviously lost interest in talking. He dropped his head to lick and nibble his way down Umber’s skin from throat to chest to stomach. The love-bites were gentle, though Umber knew they would be repeated later more forcefully.

  While he could still speak, he struggled to do so. “I’m—supposed to—” A harder bite, accompanied by a shock of pure power, broke off the sentence for a second. “Need to talk to Terre Verte. Why I’m here.”

  “Later,” Cupric replied. “Hansa made me promise to keep you distracted until he came back.”

  “He . . .” Umber found himself staring into Cupric’s sparkling sky-blue eyes, searching for the lie, because what he was implying was impossible. Hansa was conflicted enough over the bond he might have been convinced to do something else, but he wouldn’t have handed Umber off to another man.

  He wouldn’t.

  Cupric smiled. “Hansa’s not as bad as I thought. He is a bit fragile—a bit Quin—but he learns fast. I can see what you see in him.” He returned to what he had been doing, pausing only long enough to add, “Fleshbond. As tasty as you are on your own, I bet you two together would be—”

  He hadn’t finished the sentence before Umber found the energy to sit up, flinging Cupric off him, off the bed, and down to the floor, all in one movement.