by Cari Z
“Clare’s on an island in a lake, not the sea,” another man said derisively.
“Either way, I hear the whole bloody place is underwater right now,” the first man retorted.
“Oh, and where do you get your news, eh? Your widow woman’s son? Jai’s tongue is as twisted as his hair, you can’t trust a word out of his lying mouth.”
“He just got back from the coast, and he says he seen it. Gone, the whole of it. Hardly a spit of rock left to show for the entire island.” He turned back to Rafael. “You seen it, lad? Ever been to Clare?”
“Once,” Rafael said curtly. “But it was still standing when I left.” That was technically true, mostly.
“Ever seen a High One?” the man pressed. “Jai tells me that they’ve left the ruins in droves, all of ‘em that could. Took over Byerton and Carlisle.” He named two of the towns on the shore opposite Clare. “Course, the people who live there haven’t taken very kindly to that. Jai said they were tearing down the houses that the High Ones were shelterin’ in and burning them up in the sun. Then at night it was a massacre, but the other way ‘round, with the soul suckers murderin’ them in droves.”
“Soul suckers.” The skeptic of the group snorted. “High Ones aren’t soul suckers. They’re just wizards, is all.”
“And how’d they get to be wizards?” the first man demanded. “Magic don’t come free. Gotta pay for it somehow, and there’s probably a lot of magic in a man’s soul.”
“Yeah? Why don’t you show us how to do some magic with your soul then, old man?”
“How much for lunch?” Rafael broke in, interested despite himself but not wanting to hear any more.
“Two coppers, lad, I’ll add it to your bill. Anything for your friend?”
“No, he’s feeling a bit unwell.”
“Should stay another full day, then, not go gallivantin’ off in the middle of the night.”
“We’re not going much farther,” Rafael lied glibly. “Do you sell grain cakes?”
“For your horses? Aye. Four coppers apiece, but they’re big’ns and they’ll last you weeks if need be.”
“I’d like six, to take with us this evening.”
“I’ll add it to your bill, lad. Rabbits paid for your room, so it’s not too much. Tastes good in the stew, eh?”
“Very good.” Rafael swung off the stool and left the room, leaving his empty bowl and trencher on the bar counter. He walked upstairs and got to the entrance to their room, then paused for a moment, staring out the window at the end of the hall and absorbing the pale afternoon light as it filtered in through the old, cracked glass, then he opened the door and slipped inside quickly.
He stood silent in the darkness inside their room, letting his eyes adjust, feeling his breathing settle. It disturbed him more than he wanted to admit, thinking about the city being completely gone. That was far worse than either of them had suspected. If Feysal and Mina hadn’t make it clear… But they probably had, of course they had, and they were headed to Tarsam, a big city farther down the coast, so he didn’t have to worry about them being caught up in a battle between dying High Ones and desperate humans in some little town on the lakeshore. Still… There was so much that could have gone wrong.
“Something wrong, pet?”
Rafael shook his head mutely, knowing Xian would see the movement. He didn’t want to discuss it right now, not Clare or Feysal or the fact that the news was finally catching up to them. If one person could bring news of the city’s destruction, then another person might as easily be following them, tracking them, finding them and making all that pain and destruction and darkness be for nothing if they were found. The thought of Myrtea sent a frisson of desperate fear down Rafael’s spine, and he suddenly launched himself onto the bed and into Xian’s embrace.
“Take me,” Rafael said, his voice low and guttural. He needed to be owned right now, to be entirely removed from his sense of self, and Xian intuitively seemed to know it, his grip around Rafael’s waist tightening.
In an instant he was off Xian’s lap and face down on the sagging mattress. The old wool scratched at his nose, but Rafael didn’t have time to consider how he would put up with it because an instant later his arms were yanked up over his head and in another perfect moment he felt the cool, slick slide of the handcuffs settling around his wrists. They bound him to the admittedly rickety headboard, but an experimental tug told Rafael that rickety or not he didn’t have the leverage from his stomach to break free. Under Xian’s hands he wasn’t likely to get that leverage either. It was a comforting thought.
Cool hands tugged his boots off, then his socks and trousers. His shirt was merely pushed up until it bunched around his shoulders, then the whole front half of his body was scraping against the rough wool, and across the back half of his body Xian’s nails scratched deep furrows into his skin.
Rafael couldn’t expect Xian to strike him in any way in an inn—the noise of impact might bring interference, even if Rafael didn’t cry out. This was good too, though good in a different sort of way, less a bright, cathartic pain and more of a slow burning that would last and last, reminding him who he belonged to even when Xian’s hands were removed. Xian’s nails dug lines from the curves of his shoulder blades all the way down his back, lightened maddeningly as they stroked over the smooth skin of his buttocks, then dug in so hard and fast against his thighs and over the backs of his knees that Rafael bit his lip until he tasted blood. He gasped into the pillow, inhaling the scents of ancient dust and straw. Xian lifted his hands away and left the bed, and Rafael whined faintly in the back of his throat, protesting Xian’s leaving as loudly as he dared. A moment later the mattress dipped as Xian returned, one hand running calmingly along Rafael’s side, the other…
The cold, hard surface of a knife made a wavy pattern down Rafael’s spine, outlining each individual vertebra with the barest hint of a scratch. It wasn’t cutting with the edge, just pressing, just enough to let Rafael know how very sharp it was, and when it glided over the raised lines gouged by nails. The threat of it was almost soothing.
Questing fingertips traced every single line on his back, followed closely by the flat of the blade. It only cut him three times, small, straight nicks put in places where the nails hadn’t dug deep enough, but every little slice was delicious agony to Rafael. His arms strained fruitlessly against the cuffs, but with every touch his mind and spirit settled further and further into bliss. Eventually he stopped moving completely, and that was when Xian put the knife away.
Xian touched each cut with his tongue, lapping at them with slow savor until the skin sealed, urged on by the magic that still flowed powerfully through his body. Once the wounds were whole he moved down, running his tongue along heated gouges and the hard knobs of spine and rib until there was no more bone to be had, only flesh. When he coaxed Rafael to his knees and licked a line down his crease, finally stopping to delve into his hole, Rafael whined again, this time with the tension that came from mounting pleasure.
Xian rimmed him for a long time, still slowly, still savoring. Rafael’s back and legs stung and his wrists ached from pulling, but the pressure in his groin was more distracting than either of those now. Finally, finally Xian pulled away, just long enough to move in tight against Rafael. Then he pressed inside Rafael’s slick hole, finally filling his lover’s body the way he filled his mind and his soul, and all Rafael could do was lean back into Xian and give himself up completely.
The fuck was hard, and slow, and seemed to last forever. Rafael barely even noticed the spike of his own orgasm in the sea of pleasure he already felt, but he captured every nuance of Xian’s, felt the satisfaction of completion and the pride of possession. The possession went two ways, and Rafael felt incredibly smug. This was his, all his. This moment was his, this person was his, and he had more proof of that than any lover since the beginning of time had ever been given by their beloved. He didn’t need the words, he felt them in every inch of his back. Still, he felt mo
ved to say it. “I love you.”
“That’s good, pet,” Xian murmured, leaning over him and kissing both his shoulders before gently unfastening the cuffs. “That’s perfect.”
Chapter Sixteen
They left early that evening, Xian slipping out to get the horses ready and to avoid questions about his appearance. People were always curious, to be sure, but out here they were far more accepting of others’ secrets than back in the city, and the pair of them capitalized on that goodwill by keeping Xian’s reality hidden from their hosts. The last thing they needed was the stigma, or in some cases the drama, of being a High One stalking them from village to village.
Snow began to fall a few days later. It started off flaky and light but it just kept falling and the temperature never rose high enough to melt it. The few days they had to spend outside were terribly hard because it was freezing cold, yet they couldn’t risk lighting a fire beneath the blankets. Traveling at night became even more perilous than it had been before, but Xian wouldn’t let them slacken the pace. His faults and fumbles were more obvious now, and they both knew that the race to get to Xian’s secretive destination was becoming much more urgent.
Xian stopped pretending to sleep. Some part of his body was always moving, always twitching. When he realized it kept Rafael up, he tried making them sleep apart instead of wrapped together, but after half a day of freezing on his side of the dark, icy cave that was their den for the moment, Rafael insisted that he’d rather lie wrapped in Xian’s arms no matter how they twitched than try to keep himself warm by shivering. Xian had chuckled tiredly and given in.
That was another thing. Xian actually looked tired now. Rafael couldn’t see it in the moonlight, but when illuminated by the warm glow of a torch or a fire the skin beneath Xian’s shining eyes was dark and grainy, and his cheekbones were becoming more pronounced. Rafael wondered how long they’d have before Xian had to relearn how to eat actual food. He fervently hoped they made it to their destination before that necessity reared its ugly head. And speaking of that…
“You’ve got to tell me where we’re going,” he said adamantly one morning almost a month after they fled Clare. “We’re running behind schedule, and I won’t be able to help us if you keep me blind and something happens.”
“I should have told you when we first set out,” Xian acknowledged quietly. “I’ve been in the habit of keeping this secret for so long that doing so is second nature to me. I didn’t even think about ramifications of that silence until recently.
“I told you that a pair of High Ones managed to survive the withdrawal once before.” He waited for Rafael’s nod. “One of that pair is my sister, Nailah. She and I ascended at the same time. The other half of the pair was her husband. He hadn’t been a High One for nearly as long as we had, and he still had family in these mountains, family that was keeping a home for him. When the two of them decided to leave Clare, they came here, to his family, and I came with them. They’d already begun the process of withdrawal before they left the city. I helped them through the worst of it but I wasn’t ready to stay myself, and so when it became imperative that I return to Clare, I left them. They both survived the process in the end, and Nailah is still alive the last I knew.”
“What about her husband?” Rafael asked softly.
“He died five years after they got here. His heart gave out.” Xian’s lips thinned as he grimaced. “All of that pain and sacrifice and they had but five years more together, in the end. Anyhow, after Heran died, Nailah chose to stay. She works as a healer, is well known for it, actually. It’s her farmhouse that we’re heading to. She lives in a valley between the two highest peaks in the middle of the mountain range. It’s difficult to reach in the snow but not impossible. I’ve done it before, and there should be some trail broken to mark the way. Nailah prefers to live alone but her neighbors keep her well stocked.”
Rafael felt a surge of intense relief. “So she’s done this before, she’ll know what we need to do for you.”
“She has done it before, but Nailah must appear very old now,” Xian said, staring blankly at the warped wooden floorboards beneath their feet. They’d been lucky to beg space in a barn this far out. “She began aging as normal humans do after she finished the descent. She’s always been clever, and very determined, but there’s only so much she’ll be able to help us with. The heavy work will be left to you, pet.”
“That’s fine with me,” Rafael insisted. “I’ll do anything for you that has to be done, but I might need someone to help me figure out what that is.”
“True,” Xian replied with a hint of a smile. “Our arrival won’t come as a complete surprise to Nailah, although I’m sure she was despairing of me after fifty years of waiting. I sent word ahead just before we left Clare.”
That was news to Rafael. “Sent word how? Magically?”
“By bird, actually. Nailah and I have kept up contact with messenger pigeons. The last one I received was nearly two years ago, but I have the feeling that the lapse was more her letting me know she’s getting impatient with waiting for me than her being unable to write.”
“What were you waiting for?” Rafael asked.
Xian raised his thinning face and looked at Rafael, and the smile that widened his lips was so genuine that Rafael was taken aback for a moment. “For you, pet. I’ve told you before, I needed the right reason to leave Clare. This isn’t just about the end of Erran’s blood, Rafael. I’d long planned to leave. I just needed the right person to come along and make me actually do it.”
“Me.” Rafael couldn’t help the incredulous note that crept into his voice.
“Clearly,” Xian said. He pulled Rafael into his arms and kissed his temple, then his cheek. “At some point I expect you’ll understand why.” Xian’s face felt like ice and his body was almost as cold as the frost-laden floor, but Rafael still turned his face against Xian’s neck and clung to him. His body needed sleep but he was so cold, and there was so much to consider now, and with every tremor that passed from Xian into him, the ache in his chest grew.
The next evening the sky had cleared some, enough that when they reached the saddle of the pass and Xian pointed, Rafael could actually make out the dark smudge of the mountains he was indicating. “The Severed Sisters,” Xian explained, having to yell to be heard over the wind. “Nailah’s home is in a valley at the base of those peaks. We should be there in two days, perhaps three.”
“Good,” Rafael yelled back. “Because this is becoming uncomfortable.”
Rafael couldn’t see the grin but he knew it was there when Xian reached out and flicked the edge of his ear. They pressed on dangerously far that morning, until the dawn light filtered through the trees, casting foreboding shadows on the ground. Setting up camp was a rushed affair, but fortunately the sun never made much of an appearance that day to test the security of their shrouded den. After caring for the horses and finishing with preparing camp, Rafael was worn to the bone. He collapsed onto the ground beside Xian and fell asleep almost immediately, barely registering when his lover shifted him so that his head was lying in his lap.
When Rafael woke up later that day he found Xian sitting completely still, his eyes closed and his mouth tensed in a firm line. There was a furrow of pain evident between his eyebrows, and his hands were clenched into fists.
“What is it?” Rafael asked hoarsely, pushing himself into a sitting position.
“I think…” Xian cleared his throat and tried again. “I think we’d better hurry, pet. And you may want to start restraining me.”
“What?” Rafael exclaimed. “Why now?”
“Because all I can think about right now is the vial of blood that’s stored at the bottom of your left saddlebag, Rafael.” Xian opened his eyes, and Rafael was startled to see that they glowed with a misty silver vapor, as though the magic itself was escaping from their surface. “And about how much I want it.”
“Oh, hell,” Rafael muttered. “Are you sure? It will be hard
to manage your horse if I cuff you, and I can’t help you on this narrow trail. We’re so close, Xian, just another day or two…”
“I’m afraid it’s either restraining me now or dealing with me in a much less pleasant way within hours,” Xian said, and there was absolutely no humor in his bearing. “Do it, Rafael.”
“All right.” He slipped outside, cursing the bitter chill under his breath, then searched his bags until he felt the satchel he’d stowed away under the horses’ grain cakes. He pulled it out and shuffled back into the shelter, ignoring the whinny of indignant protest from his horse.
“Give me your hands,” he said as he knelt in front of Xian. Xian didn’t reply, and Rafael looked up into his lover’s silent, glowing orbs and felt a sudden piercing sense of fear. Before he could think twice about it, he slipped two of the silver needles free of their case and jammed them swiftly into Xian’s legs, just above the knees. His lover exhaled with a sudden harsh rush of breath and laughed weakly.
“You noticed, then.”
“The tension in your legs? I’ve been kicked by you enough times to know when to watch myself,” Rafael replied, trying to keep his tone light and failing miserably. This was the first time he’d felt in any sort of danger from Xian, and despite knowing how hard the withdrawal was hitting him, it was hard to reconcile the caring lover with the blood-starved addict he was seeing now.
“Best to get this part over with, pet.” Xian extended his shaking hands and Rafael didn’t hesitate this time, he just opened the cuffs up and closed them firmly over Xian’s wrists. Silver light pooled at the edges of the slender metal bands for a moment, and Rafael saw Xian wince before he managed to stifle it. The glow in his eyes died out though, and after a moment he managed a half-smile.
“That’s that, then,” Xian said. “This will put more of the chores on you, I’m afraid.”
