Of the Mortal Realm

by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

  But after this, he would turn tail and run like the beasts of the Abyss were after him. Mostly because it was a little too true.

  Chapter 28

  Hansa

  “You really think this is a good idea?” Hansa asked, as he and Umber fell into bed.

  “I think it’s the best idea we have,” Umber replied. “You’re over your head most of the time when it comes to Abyssal magic, but you had a good reputation when you were a guard, as a man who was fair and not just in the position for power and glory. And as much as I hate to go along with anything Naples says, he has a point. Even without Terre Verte in the equation, I would rather see you in that office than anyone else who might run for it.”

  “It won’t take much for me to get thrown out and turned over to the Quin as a mancer, a sympathizer, or at the very least for deviant behavior,” Hansa pointed out. “The majority population is fixed in its ways right now. I don’t even know where I’d start.”

  He could see Umber smiling as he spoke. As they moved close, Umber said, “I don’t know why you’re asking me this. You’ve already moved past wondering whether you should, and have started wondering about how to do what you want to do next.”

  “Okay, I’ve resigned myself to it,” Hansa admitted—though resigned wasn’t quite the right word. As much as he wanted to be reasonable, to be sane, there was a bubbly sensation in his stomach as he considered the possibility and how he might approach it. “I’m just worried about all the ways to get killed that seem to be involved.”

  “There are always plenty of ways to get killed,” Umber said. “This is Kavet under Quinacridone rule, after all. I’m more concerned about Naples.”

  “Hmm. If he does come knocking, will you let him in?”

  Umber paused, drawing a deep breath. “I don’t know,” he said. “Probably. I’m not sure I could keep him out, and he seems to think he is on our side. For the moment, anyway.”

  It seemed like they had barely faded into sleep when the knock came, not on the wards or the front door but on the bedroom door.

  “What?” Umber called groggily, reaching for the oil lamp on the bedside table, which obediently sparked with flame at his touch just as the door opened.

  Hansa would have thought being naked in bed when Naples walked in would be awkward, but with Umber spooned against his back—and a light blanket over the both of them—it was almost fun to see the flash of envy in Naples’ gaze as the Abyssumancer leaned heavily in the doorway.

  “Since you’re obviously capable of breaking in, couldn’t you have waited until morning to announce your presence?” Umber sighed. “The guest rooms are taken, but there is a couch downstairs if you need somewhere to sleep.”

  Hansa, meanwhile, pushed himself up on one elbow, looking at the Abyssumancer more carefully. “Are you bleeding?”

  “Nice of someone to notice,” Naples said. He took a step farther into the room, and now Umber sat up as well, because Naples was obviously limping.

  “What happened?” Umber asked.

  “I went to the temple like I said I would,” Naples said. “I got into a fight.”

  “With a Numini?” Didn’t the Numini hate bloodshed? Hansa started to stand, then realized he wasn’t dressed. After a brief hesitation, he decided his modesty wasn’t a priority at the moment. He grabbed his pants, and managed to flash the Abyssumancer for only a second or two before he further turned up the oil lamp and went to see how badly Naples was hurt.

  “With a mancer,” Naples corrected. He dodged back as Hansa moved near. “It’ll heal, Quin. I’m just here to see a spawn about a bond.”

  “Now?” Hansa wanted the bond to Cupric gone, and surely Umber wanted that even more, but it was the middle of the night and Naples was in poor shape.

  “Yes, now,” Naples snapped. “Do you think I can’t hold my own against any mancer in Kavet? It’s hard to win if you can’t fight back. Next time I find that damned pederast I’m not holding back.”

  “Cupric?” Hansa asked. “He did this?”

  Naples nodded sharply. “I don’t think he meant to be in the temple. If I had to guess, I would say he was using it as a springboard to open a full rift into the Abyss—lazy, but effective. When I got in his way, he decided to show his teeth. You should be glad I recognized him in time.”

  “Why is Cupric trying to get to the Abyss?” Umber asked.

  “Making friends? Getting laid? I don’t care,” Naples replied. “And you can care later. Because as soon as he gets back from the Abyss he and I are going to have a special little chat.” Naples shook himself, in a way that Hansa had seen Alizarin do when flustered and trying to smooth down his fur. “Bastard. Maybe he used to be the most powerful Abyssumancer in Kavet, but he has a lot to learn.”

  Naples’ hostility danced across Hansa’s skin, power seeping off him. Hansa looked at Umber, who was watching Naples’ rant with a strange fascination.

  “Are you all right?” the spawn asked, causing Naples to jump.

  “Fine. Angry,” Naples replied, in short, clipped phrases. Under Umber’s continued examination, he paused, drew a deep breath, and stilled himself. “Angry, impatient, hungry. Can we snap this bond before I go pick a fight?”

  “Hungry?” Hansa asked. Naples had barely touched food earlier. In fact, Hansa couldn’t remember seeing Naples eat a single bite of it. And now Naples was putting out waves of . . . Hunger, yes, that was the word—but it wasn’t a hunger for food.

  “Apparently there are side effects to being slaughtered and resurrected by Abyssi,” Naples said, meeting Hansa’s gaze with eyes that let off a faint coppery glow.

  “Maybe you should rest tonight, and heal,” Umber suggested. “We can work on the bond tomorrow.”

  “Fine,” Naples said.

  The Abyssumancer turned, sharply enough that Hansa felt the need to ask, “Where are you going?”

  Naples glanced back with a very Abyssi smile, and answered in an equivalent tone, “Hunting.”

  “You’re not going after Cupric, are you?”

  “Not tonight.”

  Hansa moved closer and saw—and sensed—Naples recoil. Hansa could see the Abyssumancer standing there, favoring one leg, with a cut down his arm that hadn’t yet closed. What he could feel was a pain beyond what those wounds indicated. It was deeper and it gnawed.

  “Don’t pity me, Quin,” Naples snapped, the instant the thought crossed Hansa’s mind.

  Hansa took a step back. “Don’t do that.”

  “Stay out of my head and I’ll stay out of yours.”

  “I assume the Abyssi dreams were yours, too?” Hansa asked as it occurred to him.

  “Not dreams,” Naples answered. “I saw through your eyes sometimes while I . . . recovered. The connection must have allowed you to see me as well sometimes.”

  “Explain,” Umber ordered.

  Naples sighed, dancing on his feet, obviously still fighting the urge to flee. “The king of the Abyss can do much, but he couldn’t make me mortal on his own. He tied me to Hansa’s power because he—you were the last human, living person I had touched.” Halfway through the explanation he turned away from Umber to speak to Hansa directly. “It’s not a permanent bond, like a mancer’s to an Abyssi. I won’t fall from this plane without you, and any lingering connection should fade, the way Lydie says my connection to the dead realm will fade, over time.”

  “What about the connection to the Abyss?”

  Naples gave him a condescending look. “I’m an Abyssumancer.”

  “That’s not what I mean and you know it,” Hansa said. Naples just shrugged. “Does it ever not hurt?”

  Naples leaned back against the wall with a half snarl, half laugh. “I’ll let you know,” he answered. “This isn’t something Modigliani warned me about. Maybe it’s temporary, or maybe it’s a permanent consequence of coming back from the dead. If it’s the latter, I wish he’d left well enough alone.”

  He pushed himself up again, then stumbled. Hansa
caught him, surprised to realize that despite all the power Naples possessed, he was so frail. He looked twenty at most, and was lean and more than slender, as if there were nothing to him except bones, muscle, and power.

  Awkwardly, Hansa drew the knife from his belt. He winced as he set the blade to his palm, drawing a fine line of blood, but not nearly as much as Naples did when Hansa pressed the new blood over the wound on the Abyssumancer’s arm. It took Hansa barely a breath of power to heal that injury. How weak was Naples, that he hadn’t been able to do it himself?

  “Resisting temptation is not one of my strengths, Hansa,” Naples growled.

  Hansa knew that was true, but here Naples was starving, and not feeding. He could have fought Cupric and made a banquet of the other Abyssumancer, but instead he had come here to break the bond first.

  “I’m gone,” Naples whispered. He tried to shake Hansa’s grip off his arm, going for the door.

  Hansa pulled him back. In this condition, if Naples went “hunting” he would hurt someone. He might even go after Cupric, and they couldn’t afford that yet. But those thoughts were secondary. Primary was the knowledge that Naples could have fed, if he had wanted to.

  “What?” Naples demanded. The expression in his copper eyes bordered on feral, marked as it was by pain, hunger, and now fear.

  Hansa stepped forward, closing the distance between them. He bent his head, meeting Naples’ lips with his own, aware of how with every touch of skin to skin Naples’ power fed at his. Hansa could have drawn blood again and let the Abyssumancer feed that way, but they were both most familiar with flesh as their favored coin of power.

  Naples was the one who broke the kiss, turning his head to the side with a gasp and asking, “What in the Abyss was that?”

  “Pity, probably,” Hansa admitted, remembering Naples’ earlier objection.

  The Abyssumancer’s eyes widened, copper rings almost hidden by dilated pupils. “Then I’ve changed my mind. Pity me. Dear Numen, you may pity me all you like.”

  Hansa glanced back at Umber, who was leaning against the wall next to the bed, watching them both. I’m not leaving you alone with him, but if you want him to stay, he can stay, the spawn said, silently. I’ll make sure you don’t give him enough power to hurt us.

  The consent shocked Hansa momentarily beyond the echoes of desperation he could feel from Naples and back into his own mind, where his first thought was, What am I doing?

  Naples went very still, as if he knew that anything he might say or do in that moment would tip the scales and send Hansa running the other direction.

  The things Naples wasn’t saying were enough. Hansa knew from personal experience that biting your tongue didn’t help when the other person could hear your thoughts. He understood from Naples’ thoughts that Naples would stay, even if they only offered to let him lie next to them. Or on the floor. The scraps of power put off by a spawn and his fleshbond when they were together were more satisfying than anything Naples could find in Kavet short of another Abyssumancer.

  And Hansa knew that Naples was trying to keep those thoughts hidden, because he despised having this Quin know how weak he was.

  If Hansa hesitated another few seconds, Naples would turn and bolt to keep from begging and Hansa would never have to make this decision because Naples would never come near him in this condition again.

  He barely had his humanity, but Numen damn it, he had to have something he could keep and his pride was one of the few things left.

  Oh, who cared? No one in this room was holding onto illusions of propriety. Hansa drew a deep breath, and as he let it out, he let himself feel the power around him—including the bond to Umber, which he tried not to focus on unless they were alone. It had been pity that had caused him to first pull Naples close, but with that power swirling around him, pity was nowhere in his mind when he decided to give up his Quin restraint and bring Naples and Umber both back to bed.

  Chapter 29

  Umber

  Umber woke, but didn’t immediately move. If he moved, he might wake one of the others, and he wasn’t sure yet how that would go. Hansa had seemed rational and confident about his decision the night before, despite Naples doing his best not to coerce or even ask the Quin for anything, but sometimes the light of day made the previous night’s decisions seem poor.

  Hansa always acted as if Umber’s fears he might change his mind someday were paranoia, but Hansa hadn’t ever been violently evicted from a man’s bed when he woke up and suddenly remembered he was living in Kavet and had sex with a man. It’s strange how those two facts could sneak up on a man while he was sleeping—sometimes the first time, and sometimes after months.

  He opened his eyes to survey the bed. The blankets had gone Abyss-knows-where, so Umber had an excellent view of the wolf-lean, pale-skinned Abyssumancer sprawled out on his back, with Umber pinning one of his sides and the darker, broad-shouldered Quin on his other half.

  Despite how clearly starved he had been, Naples had been remarkably restrained, taking what power was offered without ever grasping for more and watching Hansa for cues as to how each moment should go. Umber had glimpsed one or two of the knives Naples wore despite the spells hiding them, but he had never drawn them; he had even apologized and removed the ring he wore after the sharp blade on its back nicked Umber’s arm. Umber hadn’t minded, and Hansa hadn’t minded in the heat of the moment, but as Naples had put it, “We didn’t negotiate for blood.”

  Both the other men seemed asleep, but then Naples’ eyes opened and immediately met Umber’s. Umber saw a reflection of his own wariness in them as Naples said softly, “Thank you for letting me stay.”

  “It was Hansa’s decision.”

  “If you had given any indication you wanted me gone, you know he would have kicked me out.” Naples glanced at Hansa, but he slept still, not disturbed by the soft conversation. “You two are very, very lucky.”

  Umber gave a half shrug, noncommittal. He had used that same word to describe Hansa once—lucky—but that had been before their relationship got so complicated.

  The response made Naples tense. “Don’t be a bastard and just admit it. You know some of the alternatives. Sweet Abyss, the link to Cupric I pulled off you would have been a soulbond if he had ever been foolish enough to demand a third boon.” Soulbond. Dear Numen, given Cupric’s power, it would have destroyed them both. “Instead you got a pretty man who, instead of blaming you for everything and hating you—which he could have—has adapted remarkably well.”

  If only Umber could stop questioning how much of that “adaptation” and affection were natural, versus caused by the bond. Then again, he had an expert in bed with him, didn’t he?

  Bracing himself, he asked, “What is a heartbond like?”

  Naples shut his eyes, and his lips pressed together as if in pain as he whispered, “Dear Numen, don’t ask me that.”

  Umber didn’t repeat the question, just waited. Eventually, Naples managed to gather his courage, and speak.

  “It’s . . . all-consuming,” he said. “If that’s truly what love feels like, I don’t know why any fool wants to fall in love. Azo and I, we didn’t know about boons or bonds. The first boon must have been when she saved me shortly after I fell into the Abyss, but sometimes the boons don’t have to be formal. The bond happened before any of us knew it was a danger.

  “I started hunting, I remember. Really hunting. I had always drawn power from flesh and lust before, but it hurt her to see me with anyone else so I gave it up. I tried to survive on the ambient power in the Abyss and the blood of its beasts. What you saw of me last night is nothing compared to those days. You and Hansa can feed from each other, but she and I couldn’t. I wanted to make love to her, but I’ve never in my life been attracted to a woman. There are ways to pleasure a woman that don’t require the man’s full engagement, and it brought me joy to bring her pleasure even if I received no satisfaction from it. And for a while that worked for her. But I’m a mancer, so wh
en the bond got stronger it affected her, too, and knowing I wasn’t satisfied killed the joy of it for her.”

  Naples trailed off, and Umber tried not to imagine those dark, awkward nights.

  “And then there was the memory of everyone I had left behind,” Naples continued, even softer. “A heartbond consumes you. There’s nothing left of you to love anyone else. I remembered that I used to care for people—for my mother, and for Henna, and even for Ginger. I used to have crushes. I was madly, adolescently in love with a sailor named Cyan. But all those memories turned cold. It’s hard enough as an Abyssumancer to not seep into the Abyss and forget your humanity, but it’s even harder when you can’t remember what it’s like to love anyone except her.”

  Naples’ words continued to come, more rapidly now, blood seeping from an old wound reopened to let infection flow out.

  “I didn’t even realize how far gone I was until Alizarin came to me. He needed an Abyssumancer to forge that knife. He’s the one who convinced Azo that she had to tell me, force me, to feed, since I wouldn’t do it unless it was for her. Only the stronger I became, the more the bond bit into both of us, so I would go days or weeks without even tasting power, trying to make things easier for her. Alizarin’s influence allowed us to move to the court, where prey was more plentiful and survival was simpler, but . . . there was her and there was me. And either one of us would have killed ourselves to end it, except that we could never stand to harm the other that way.”

  He shuddered, and Hansa let out a sleepy protest and tightened his arm around Naples’ waist.