by Megan Derr
"You stay here until I say you can go back to work," Roark ordered, getting a brief nod from Cos. Roark hesitated, but then added, "You should sing."
Ignoring the startled look Cos gave him, Roark headed back to the fields, smothering the smile that threatened when Cos started to sing one of the slow, sweet songs he often sang to Harro as a lullaby.
*~*~*
Roark hated sleeping in the stables. He hated the noise of the horses, the lumpy, uncomfortable way the hay bunched under him, and the straw poked at him through the blanket he slept on top of. He'd much rather be in his bed in the house, but unfortunately it made much more sense to keep Cos out in the stables, where he was separate from the house and the protection spell that might inadvertently discourage the bastard from coming after Cos.
At least no one had realized Roark was sneaking out to join Cos at night. That was one advantage. The other was that, as far as Cos knew, the man who'd helped his father didn't know what he looked like, so there was no reason he'd connect Cos with the wizard's magical 'daughter'.
Still, Roark spent half of every night sleeping fitfully and the other half hoping to hear someone sneaking into the stable to shut Cos up before he gave away who it was that had helped the wizard prey on the village for so long.
The worst part of it, Roark though crossly, shifting in vain to try and find an even spot of hay, was that he was sleeping in the hay loft with Cos. The loft wasn't huge; it was only built over half of the stable. There was plenty of room for both of them to stretch out comfortably and then some, but every night the space seemed to shrink.
Cos didn't help that, either. He started out the evenings tucked against the wall where he stored his few belongings, but as soon as he fell asleep he sprawled out, taking up more space than one man ought. Especially one as small as Cos.
At least Cos seemed to sleep as poorly as Roark did. He tossed and turned and seemed to wake more than once most nights.
Currently, though, he was fast asleep, mostly hidden in the shadows of the hay around him. He was laying on his back, one arm buried in the hay and the rest of his limbs spread out at odd angles. Roark scowled briefly—it was completely unfair for Cos to be asleep while he was awake.
Roark shifted restlessly again, wondering if he should get up and attempt to walk off some of his restlessness. There was enough of a moon left that he wouldn't have any trouble keeping an eye on the stable... but no, he'd do better to stay here and get what rest he could
Even if staying here only made the temptation to wake Cos or do something creepy, like just watch him sleep, even greater. Cos had done some sort of spell to give the stable more luminescence than it should have, amplifying what little moonlight snuck in through the cracks in the stable's roof and walls, which only made it easier to watch Cos.
Cos moved then, drawing Roark's attention as he mumbled something incomprehensible in his sleep. Rolling his eyes, Roark irritably sat up completely, trying to rearrange the hay below him in a manner that would allow him to get comfortable enough to fall asleep. Then he dropped back down to the hay with a sigh, staring grumpily at the roof.
The plow horses—stupid beasts, the both of them—shifted restlessly below. Roark wondered irritably if he could convince Amara to drug them at night—but no, then he'd have to explain why.
The soft snick of the stable door's catch being undone quashed Roark's irritation, and he immediately reached for the long knife under his pillow. Smiling coldly as his fingers closed around the sheath, Roark moved ever so slightly to give himself a view of the top of the ladder leading to the hayloft.
It didn't take long—whoever was sneaking in took enough time to ascertain that there was no one in the lower level of the stable before beginning to climb the ladder to the loft, the soft scuff of boots against each rung heralding the intruder's progress. He was obviously trying to keep quiet; each step was slow and measured—if Roark hadn't already been awake, he probably would've slept through it.
Roark tensed in anticipation as a pair of hands appeared on the top rung of the ladder, but he stayed still as the man continued to climb up into the hay loft.
It wasn't Bralin—too wide and he wouldn't be sneaking—and no one else had any reason to be climbing into the loft. Roark took a deep breath in anticipation of lunging at the man, but Cos chose that moment to stir and wake, sitting up slightly.
"Roark?" he asked, his sleep-slurred voice drawing the intruder's attention immediately.
"No," came the menacing reply, and Roark new that voice. Lehan appeared not to have noticed him, and Roark used that to his advantage, barely noticing the way Cos scrambled up and back as he launched up out of the hay.
Lehan didn't stumble back; there was nowhere for him to stumble to but back down to the stable floor. Roark unsheathed his knife as he lunged, dropping the sheath without a second thought and grabbing the front of Lehan's shirt in a firm grip.
"Did you think you were going to get away with it, Lehan?" Roark growled, his voice deeper and more ominous than it was normally. Lehan shoved him back, and they tussled for a moment, jostling back and forth for a moment before Lehan froze, the tip of Roark's knife pressed to his throat.
"Well?" Roark demanded, shaking Lehan slightly, heedless of the knife. If he accidentally killed Lehan, he wouldn't be heartbroken. Lehan sneered, the expression barely visible in the dim light flooding the stable.
"I was, wasn't I?" Lehan snarled, jerking away from Roark's grip. He didn't break free; it seemed more an act of defiance than an attempt to get away.
"Cos," Roark said, not taking his eyes off Lehan. "Get down the ladder. Wait for us at the bottom. If he tries anything, flatten him like you did to me that one time."
"Okay," Cos agreed quietly, still sounding mostly asleep. Roark listened to him move, waiting until Cos had slipped past them and down the ladder before speaking again.
"If you try anything, I will not hesitate to gut you," Roark threatened darkly. He half-hoped Lehan did try something, just so he could. "Down the ladder."
Roark released his grip on the front of Lehan's shirt, giving him a shove towards the ladder. Lehan hesitated a moment before taking a single step backwards. He stumbled, probably due to the unevenness of the hay. Roark reacted instinctively, reaching out to steady him—
And Lehan's punch caught him completely off guard, though it really shouldn't have. After all, if Lehan was willing to silence Cos, why wouldn't he try to silence both Roark and Cos?
Roark reeled back a step—Lehan hit harder than Roark had thought he could. He recovered quickly, returning Lehan's punch with a quick right hook. He held the knife ready in his left hand, but didn't bring it into play yet—Lehan wasn't that much of a threat.
Lehan wobbled, and his proximity to the edge of the loft drove him to reach out and grab the front of the sleeping shirt Roark was wearing.
Except he didn't just grab, Roark realized, cursing loudly as Lehan pulled him forward—and shoved him hard off the edge of the loft.
Roark hit the ground with a sickening crack, and the sharp, white-hot pain shooting up from his leg came bare seconds after the sound reached his ears. Swearing—doubly so when he realized the fall had jarred the knife from his hand—Roark ignored the pain in his leg and tried to get to his feet.
Only to immediately crumple back to the ground, his vision whiting out at the fresh wave of pain that stupid move earned him. Roark shook his head, trying to clear it to figure out where Cos was and where Lehan was, but the stable's light wasn't clear enough for him anymore.
"Roark?" Cos's uncertain voice hailed from behind him—and that would be why he couldn't see them; he'd managed to turn himself around at some point.
"Knock him out," Roark ground out, hoping Cos could do that—he'd only stunned Roark when they'd tussled.
"I did," Cos said, his voice wavering a bit. The stables abruptly got a lot brighter, and Roark blinked, trying to get his eyes to adjust. Gritting his teeth, Roark peered at Cos, wondering if he'd hit his head on
the way down too. Cos was cupping a fist-sized ball of fire in his hands, the light it cast illuminating his anxious expression. "He fell from—he fell down here."
Roark snorted, pleased to hear that he wasn't the only one to fall from the loft.
"You're bleeding," Cos said faintly, and Roark grimaced, unsurprised to find Cos's words true as he looked at his injured leg. There was bone poking through the skin, so it really was little wonder Roark hadn't been able to endure trying to stand on it.
"Is he going to stay passed out?" Roark demanded, making Cos jump and nearly drop his fire globe.
"Yes," Cos said, glancing over Roark's shoulder wide-eyed, presumably at Lehan's inert body.
"Go get Bralin, then," Roark said, his voice strained. Bralin could do a bit of healing, at least until the village's physician could come and set the bone.
Cos hesitated—Bralin was staying in the house, partly because he refused to sleep outside and partly for protection in case the traitor—Lehan—decided to take out the entire family for insurance.
"Go!" Roark growled, and Cos nodded, hesitating again before setting the fire globe on the ground next to Roark. Then he turned and darted out of the stables, running towards the house. Roark painfully twisted around so he could keep an eye on Lehan, trying to ignore the pain from his leg.
It seemed like forever before Cos returned, trailing behind Bralin and, inexplicably, Ejoc. Roark glared at the farm hand, ignoring Bralin's snickers as he approached.
"He pushed me, before you ask," Roark said sourly. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Amara," Bralin said, grinning at Roark. "They were up late talking and she let him stay the night. Does anything else hurt?"
"No," Roark replied shortly. He glared at Ejoc, who shifted nervously, hanging back by the stable door.
"We were only talking," Ejoc said, looking uncomfortable.
"Ow, fuck, Bralin," Roark snarled as Bralin prodded at his leg.
Bralin snorted, giving him an unimpressed look. "It's a clean break. You'll be fine."
"Fix it," Roark said, snapping the words out shortly. "Then I'll be fine."
"I don't have that sort of power and you know it," Bralin retorted, shooting a glance at Cos that Roark didn't have the energy to interpret. "Cos does."
"You're a wizard?" Ejoc asked, startled out of his observation from the doorway. Roark cursed, smacking Bralin as hard as he could—unfortunately not very hard.
"I don't—I can't do magic on people," Cos said, hunching his shoulders and apparently trying to become one with the stable wall behind him.
"You can," Bralin said dismissively, turning back to Roark. "Ejoc, grab a few short, straight planks from the scrap pile."
Ejoc frowned, casting Cos an uncertain, wary look before slipping out of the stable.
"Why the hell did you do that?" Roark demanded. Bralin shrugged, peeling back the torn, bloody pant leg from his broken bone. Roark winced.
"I thought it was obvious, considering Lehan's unconscious and that little fire light," Bralin said, shooting Cos an apologetic look. "Don't worry about it. Ejoc and Amara are reasonable people."
"You just want to take him back with you," Roark grumbled, wishing Ejoc would hurry up. He wanted his damn leg taken care of now.
"He needs schooling," Bralin said, looking up as Ejoc returned, carrying two disparate bits of board.
"He's right here," Roark muttered, bracing himself as Bralin waved Ejoc forward.
"Ready?" Bralin asked, and Roark nodded tersely. He hated broken bones, though he'd only broken an arm previously and that had been healed completely by a witch who'd owed him a favor. Gritting his teeth, Roark swallowed down a pained noise as Bralin forced the bones of his lower leg back into alignment. His vision whited out for a moment again, but an instant later the pain was back to its previous level of 'barely tolerable'.
"You sure you won't heal him?" Bralin asked Cos as he started to bind the planks in a rough split around Roark's leg.
"I can't," Cos said faintly, and he looked as close to passing out as Roark felt.
"You won't," Bralin said mercilessly.
"Leave it," Roark snarled, half angry from pain and half because where the hell did Bralin get off, badgering Cos like that?
"Fine," Bralin said. He tugged the last binding tight, making Roark hiss from the pain. "Ejoc, help me get him back to the house. Cos, stay here and make sure Lehan doesn't wake up again."
Cos nodded, and Roark wondered briefly if he'd run when Ejoc and Bralin came back to get Lehan. Probably—Bralin had ruined his anonymity as a wizard, and the last bit of unfinished business from his father's mess was about to be resolved. What reason did he have to stay?
"Come on, up," Bralin said. He grabbed one of Roark's arms while Ejoc supported the other, helping him climb to his feet—well, foot—awkwardly. "We'll get a real physician—if this village has one—to come look at your leg when we drag Lehan's carcass into town to dump with the King's guards."
"Good," Roark said shortly, glancing over his shoulder as they reached the stable doors. Cos was standing by the ladder to the hay loft, watching Lehan intently, and Roark couldn't think of a single thing to stay.
"Come on," Bralin said, tugging him forward. Roark nodded, grit his teeth, and hopped towards the house with Bralin and Ejoc's support.
*~*~*
It was late morning when Roark woke, firmly tucked into his bed. There were two extra blankets heaped on top of him, because Amara had unfortunately woken when they'd dragged Roark into the house. Apparently her cure for a broken leg was to smother him with blankets.
Roark grumbled something half-hearted and mostly incomprehensible as he threw the extra blankets onto the floor. He could already tell this broken leg was going to be a pain in his ass—he wasn't going to be able to do half the things he usually did, and it hurt to just lie there, which was more than a little obnoxious.
Roark carefully sat up, wincing at the sour taste in his mouth left over from the doctor's sedative and the sharp, aching pain that came from moving his leg.
His room wasn't large—it had a bed, a bureau, and a rickety nightstand that had seen many better days. The windows were covered by flowery curtains that matched the bedspread—Amara's touches to make the guestroom more homey. In the far corner was a stack of boxes and crates that Roark hadn't bothered to unpack since his things had been shipped from the city.
This morning there was an additional piece of furniture—the upholstered easy chair that Amara normally kept in her room to rock Harro to sleep the nights he was restless. That hadn't been there when he'd finally passed out. But neither had Cos, curled up asleep in it. His head was tucked at an awkward angle against the back of the chair, like he hadn't meant to fall asleep there.
Roark... well, he wasn't sure what to feel. Cos should be long gone, vanished to some remote corner of the world where he wouldn't have to see the effects of his father's actions every day.
Instead, he was camped at Roark's bedside.
Before Roark could analyze that any further, the door cracked open and Amara peered inside. She smiled slightly when she saw Roark was awake, pushing the door open fully to step inside.
"How are you—" she began to ask, then lowered her voice, her eyes widening slightly as she caught sight of Cos, "—feeling?"
"It hurts," Roark grumbled, eyeing Cos curiously. "How long has he been here?"
"I don't know," Amara said, smiling fondly at Cos. "He slipped away after Bralin came back from dropping Lehan off with the guards." Her smile slipped away and she frowned at Roark. "You should've told me what you were doing."
"You were safer not knowing," Roark said dismissively, frowning pensively at Cos. Perhaps he'd come to make sure Roark was all right before he took off and then had accidentally fallen asleep.
"This is my house, Roark," Amara said severely, looking furious and Roark hastily fixed his attention back on her. "You will tell me the next time you try something stupid like this. You
could've gotten seriously hurt, instead of just breaking your leg."
"You didn't need to know," Roark said stubbornly. He forced himself to sit up straighter, not willing to slouch in bed for this conversation.
"And if I had gone out last night to check on Cos?" Amara asked, hissing the words angrily but still keeping her voice low. "Tell me next time, Roark. I don't want to have to worry about you putting Harro in danger and not telling me so I can keep him safe."
"Fine," Roark said, conceding defeat. "But nothing like this should happen again." And if it did, Roark would decide then whether Amara needed to know.
Amara stared him down for a long moment before saying, "Good."
Cos chose that moment to stir, and Amara's smile resurfaced as she glanced at him. Roark scowled, wondering if she knew something about Cos that he didn't.
"I'll go fetch you two breakfast," she said, touching the back of Cos's chair lightly. "Be nice to him, Roark."
She turned and left before Roark could come up with a reply to that. Cos groaned quietly as he woke, blearily trying to straighten his neck out. He lifted one hand to rub at the sore muscles, blinking sleepily at Roark. His hair was sticking up at an odd angle where he'd slept on it, and Roark was almost thankful for the broken leg because it kept him from doing anything stupid like grabbing Cos and dragging him to bed.
"Morning," Roark said, ignoring the gruffness to his voice.
Cos blinked, his hand falling back to his lap. Faint color flooded his cheeks, and he ducked his head before saying, "Good morning."
"You weren't hurt last night, were you?" Roark asked, wondering why it hadn't occurred to him to ask then. Lehan could easily have fallen on Cos or something.
"No," Cos said quickly, shaking his head for emphasis. He sat up slowly, uncurling with a slowness that spoke of how sore his sleeping position had probably left him. "You're—are you okay?"
"Been worse," Roark said, grimacing as his leg throbbed painfully just to spite him.
"I'm sorry," Cos said. He dropped his gaze to study his hands, looking rather miserable. "I—I could've—if I'd—"
"It's not your fault," Roark interrupted Cos before he could stumble any further through is apology. "You did what you were supposed to do. I should've been more careful."
