Fairytales Slashed, Volume 2

by Megan Derr

  "I—" Cos started, not looking at all reassured by Roark's words. "I can't heal you."

  "I didn't ask you to," Roark snapped, annoyed despite himself. "Stop apologizing."

  Amazingly, Cos smiled faintly at that, the corners of his lips tilting up slightly. He nodded a bit, murmuring, "Okay."

  "So what are your plans now?" Roark asked after a moment, resisting the urge to shift the way he was sitting. It would only cause him pain, he knew it.

  "Plans?" Cos repeated, looking at him with a fair bit of confusion.

  "Bralin wants to take you back to the capital for training, to learn how to use your magic properly," Roark said, ignoring how much he didn't like that idea. It was a good opportunity—it would get Cos away from the village and it would give him many more options than staying here did.

  "I don't—" Cos said, hesitating. He twisted his hands together anxiously, glancing up at Roark shyly. "I'd rather stay here."

  "Why?" Roark demanded suspiciously. If Cos was only staying around to serve some misguided feeling of guilt, Roark would truss him up and send him packing with Bralin whether he liked it or not.

  "I—" Cos said, but didn't continue, looking up at Roark a little hopelessly. He gave a half-shrug, his pale cheeks turning red again. "You."

  Roark blinked, thrown. Before he could even begin to process that, however, Amara knocked briskly on the door before bustling in with a laden breakfast tray.

  "Good morning, Cos," she said cheerfully, walking over to Roark's rickety bedside table and setting down the tray. The table swayed precariously under the load, but surprisingly held up "There's enough for both of you, and if you want more just come downstairs and Gaima or I will fix you up with more."

  "Thanks," Roark said, only a little impatiently. He wanted Amara to leave so he could get a more elaborate answer from Cos. Except Cos never really was that articulate, so 'you' was probably the best answer he was going to get.

  "Did you sleep all right, Cos?" Amara asked, ignoring Roark's impatience. "You can always use the bed in the room next door. It's a guest room, and sleeping there is much more comfortable than in a chair."

  "Maybe," Cos said, fidgeting a bit. He met Roark's eyes and looked away again quickly. Amara smiled a bit wider and Roark scowled at her—how the hell had she figured out how Cos felt when Roark hadn't had a clue?

  "I'll leave you boys to your breakfast," Amara said. It wasn't fair, Roark thought in annoyance, that she took it easy on Cos where she deliberately tormented Roark. She stopped in the doorway to turn back and mouth be nice at him. Roark made a face back at her before she disappeared, leaving him alone with Cos again.

  Roark glanced at breakfast—heaping piles of eggs, bacon, bread, and a small pitcher of milk—and dismissed it. Breakfast could wait.

  "Come here," Roark said quietly, when it seemed Cos was doing his best to become part of his chair.

  "What?" Cos asked, glancing up with a confused, concerned look.

  "Come here," Roark repeated more impatiently. Cos hesitated, but then he slid out of his chair and took the two steps to Roark's bedside. Roark reached up, grabbing Cos's shirt and tugging him down. "What, precisely, did you mean by 'me'?"

  Cos flushed again, carefully setting one hand down on Roark's mattress for balance. Roark swore he could see the cogs turning in Cos's head as he struggled to form an answer. Smothering a grin because for Cos, that was answer enough, Roark tugged Cos closer, leaned up and gave him a brief, hard kiss.

  Cos froze, and Roark wondered if maybe he'd gotten it wrong—but then Cos's lips twitched towards a smile.

  "Yes?" He half-said, but mostly asked, and Roark rolled his eyes, catching Cos's mouth in another kiss. Unsurprisingly, Cos kissed back clumsily, obviously inexperienced but sweet despite it. He was apparently a quick learner, though, as he kissed a little less clumsily under Roark's encouragement.

  Roark tugged Cos up on the bed, barely letting him breathe as he continued to take kiss after kiss. Cos had no objection, hesitantly curling a hand around Roark's upper arm for balance. Roark sank his fingers into Cos's soft gold hair, tugging again to get Cos closer—

  "Ow, fuck," Roark snarled, cursing his broken leg as it throbbed extra painfully at the jarring he'd given it. Cos backed away immediately, his eyes wide, and they were really going to have to work on how easily Cos spooked.

  "Not your fault," Roark grumbled, annoyed now because Cos had put himself out of arm's reach.

  "The doctor left painkillers," Cos said. His cheeks were flushed, his lips kiss-swollen, and his hair tousled—a look Roark found he liked quite a bit.

  "I'm fine," Roark said distractedly. Painkillers would put him to sleep, and he didn't want to sleep yet. "Come back here."

  "You hurt yourself," Cos said, but he approached Roark despite the protest.

  "It was worth it," Roark muttered, shifting over with a wince so there was enough room for Cos to sit down next to him. "Still would be—"

  "You should eat," Cos said, but he didn't sound completely convinced of that and there was a shy smile tugging at his lips.

  "Sit," Roark ordered. Cos did, watching him curiously as he carefully tucked himself into the space Roark had made for him.

  "You're going to sleep in the house now," Roark said, amused when Cos flushed at that, ducking his head a little. "In the other guest room if you want. To begin with, at least."

  "Okay," Cos agreed with a faint smile. He didn't flinch when Roark reached out and pushed his hair out of his face, just smiled more widely.

  "And you're going to take breaks when—if—you go out to work in the fields without me," Roark said, making a note to talk to Ejoc about making sure Cos took breaks. If the man was willing to work with Cos now that he knew Cos was a wizard. "Did Ejoc tell anyone you're a wizard?"

  "Um," Cos hedged, looking away briefly before meeting Roark's eyes again. "He didn't have to."

  "Why not?" Roark demanded irritably, wondering what he'd missed because he'd broken his stupid fucking leg.

  "Lehan—we got him almost there," Cos said, tucking his hair properly back behind his ears. "He woke up—and Bralin and Ejoc—he knocked their heads together?"

  Roark snorted, making a note to tease Bralin mercilessly about that later.

  "He was getting away, so I—" Cos hesitated, then shrugged. "I tripped him, um, magically. And held him until the guards came. I didn't—I couldn't shut him up. If—knocking him out might've hurt him permanently."

  "And he spouted about you being a wizard?" Roark guessed, wondering if Amara knew. Cos nodded, fidgeting anxiously with the hem of his shirt until Roark snatched one of his hands—to still his fidgeting, of course—but he kept hold of it anyway. "So everyone knows. And you still want to stay here?"

  "Amara said—she says people have to deal with her if they have problems, if they don't like it," Cos said, giving Roark a small smile. "You got past it?"

  "Yeah, I got past it," Roark grumbled, squeezing Cos's hand reassuringly. "If they don't, that's their problem. More for me."

  *

  *

  *

  Epilogue

  Roark stopped one step into the kitchen, freezing at the dark look Amara was leveling at him.

  "I swear to god, Roark, if you track in more snow after I spent the morning cleaning the floor, you'll be sleeping in the stables tonight. Without Cos," Amara said threateningly from her spot at the kitchen table.

  "I wasn't—" Roark began defensively, even though he had been about to thoughtlessly tramp in despite Amara's constant reminders to remove his snowy boots at the door. He didn't finish his protest, rolling his eyes as he carefully removed his sword and stuck it on the hooks he'd attached to the wall above the door. Perfectly accessible to him, but far above the reach of curious toddlers.

  "Where's Cos?" Roark asked, tugging his right boot back on when he realized Cos's boots weren't among those lined up neatly next to the door. "And what is Ejoc doing here?"

  "Cos is out checking o
n the horses," Amara said, not looking up from the sock she was darning. "And Ejoc is here because he helped me bring back the purchases I made in town."

  "So why is he still here?" Roark groused half-heartedly. Amara could do worse for villagers than Ejoc, but Roark was going to fight it all the way.

  "Because he's also joining us for dinner," Amara said. She glared at him pointedly, jabbing her needle through the sock with more force than was necessary. "You will be nice."

  "Yeah, sure," Roark said dismissively, reaching for the doorknob. "Be back shortly."

  "Mmhmm," Amara said, her glare melting away. It wasn't fair, how even obscure references to his relationship with Cos got a smile when she usually only glared at or scolded Roark. "See if you can cheer him up some, will you? He seems a little down today."

  Roark scowled at that news—what had Cos upset? Stepping out into the yard again, Roark squinted against the late afternoon sun and the way it reflected off the snow blanketing the yard. A path had been cleared to the stable; probably Cos's doing from how perfectly square the snow banks on either side were.

  Roark headed for the stables, wanting to see Cos and fix whatever was bothering him quickly. Cos had been doing so much better lately—but if Roark thought about it, he had been quiet this morning before Roark had gone off to practice with the small complement of the King's army that was stationed in the village.

  Roark let himself into the stable, frowning when he didn't immediately see Cos. Checking the three stalls only turned up horses, and there was no one in the loft when Roark climbed the ladder to check. Safely back on the ground—and ignoring the twinge his previously broken leg gave as he climbed down the ladder—Roark headed back out and saw what he'd missed before.

  Heading off through the snow were a pair of boot prints—Cos's, because his feet were bigger than Amara's but smaller than Roark's, and his right boot left a unique print because of the way the cobbler had repaired it after Roark had sliced the bottom trying to remove a fraying bit of leather.

  Following the prints, Roark grumbled under his breath about obnoxious wizards who weren't where they were supposed to be when Roark got home, making him have to track them down.

  At least Cos hadn't gone very far. He was just on the other side of the stable, out of view from the house. He'd melted a wide circle of snow and was sitting at the far side of it, intently studying the book in his lap.

  "Reading is an indoor activity," Roark said loudly, in lieu of a greeting. Cos startled—he really wasn't any less skittish about unexpected people or noises—but he smiled when he looked up at Roark.

  "I'm mostly practicing," Cos said. He didn't get up as Roark neared, just continued to smile at Roark.

  "Fire spells?" Roark asked, narrowing his eyes at the red symbol on the book's cover. He was going to write Bralin a nasty letter on his choice of spells for Cos to learn.

  "Yes," Cos said, shutting the book when Roark sat down. "Want to see?"

  "Sure. As long as you don't set me on fire," Roark said. "It's cold out here. Why the hell are you practicing now?"

  "I won't," Cos promised, leaning over and kissing him shyly on the cheek. "Amara has Ejoc over."

  "He didn't give you any trouble, did he? I can punch him again," Roark said. He scowled as he grabbed Cos's hand, unsurprised to find Cos's fingers freezing. "I thought he was over that."

  "He is," Cos assured him, tucking his hair back with his free hand. It wasn't as bright as the sun had made it over the summer, but it was still a pretty gold. "But he likes Amara, and I was... in the way."

  Roark scowled, not too fond of being reminded of that budding romance. "I don't like him."

  "You don't?" Cos asked, looking startled. "Should I not have left them alone?"

  "It's too soon," Roark muttered, not quite answering Cos's worried question.

  "When is it not too soon?" Cos asked curiously, squeezing Roark's hand reassuringly.

  "Never," Roark said crankily, shooting a glare at the house. He really should have a talk with Ejoc about his intentions, to make sure he knew Amara was off-limits.

  "But didn't, um, that woman who runs the bakery—" Cos began, and Roark sighed loudly, giving him a long-suffering look.

  "That's different," Roark explained, smiling reluctantly because Cos had a point. "She wasn't married to my brother."

  Cos laughed quietly, smiling at him. "She likes him? He makes her happy again."

  "I know," Roark said. "That's why he's still inside instead of upside-down in a snow bank."

  Cos laughed again, and Roark really thought he'd never get tired of hearing that sound.

  "So are you going to show me this new magic of yours?" Roark asked, nudging Cos. "Because if not, I'm going back inside. It's cold out here."

  "Okay," Cos said, glancing down at their clasped hands. "I'll need my hand back."

  Roark pretended to think about it for a minute before relinquishing his hold on Cos's hand. Cos smiled widely at him for a moment before he focused on the center of the cleared circle. He stared intently at a spot for a long moment before a campfire, complete with burning logs appeared.

  Roark whistled, impressed, but Cos just swatted at him.

  "The hard part is putting out the fire," Cos said, touching the book in his lap. "Even conjured fires are hard to put out, but the same technique is used to put out conjured and non-conjured fires."

  "So can you put it out?" Roark asked. Cos nodded, gesturing at the fire with both hands. It instantly died out, leaving nothing but a pile of smoking logs.

  "I don't know why, but it works better if I do that," Cos said sheepishly, demonstrating the gesture again. Roark rolled his eyes, tucking his hands under his jacket.

  "If it works better, do it like that," Roark said dismissively. "Not however the book tells you."

  "It tells me to use words," Cos said, making a face. "I think Bralin wants me to use words, too."

  "Ignore Bralin," Roark said, mentally doubling the length of the nasty letter he needed to write Bralin. "He's not a latent."

  "Okay," Cos agreed easily, and the smoking logs disappeared, smoke and all. "It's cold out here."

  "Like I said," Roark said without rancor. "Let's go in."

  "We should give them more time," Cos said hesitantly, letting Roark help him to his feet. His cheeks were rosy from the cold, his honey-gold eyes bright, and Roark didn't even bother trying to resist, just kissed Cos soundly.

  "We can hide out in the stables," Roark decided, tugging Cos that way.

  The stables were still deserted, and Roark didn't waste any time, just pulled the door shut behind them, pushed Cos up against it and kissed him again. Cos responded eagerly, twining his arms around Roark's neck and kissing him back enthusiastically.

  Roark only broke away when breathing became necessary, his hands busy beneath Cos's now-unfastened jacket. Cos objected wordlessly, his grip in Roark's hair tightening.

  "Breathing is good for you," Roark grumbled, but obligingly kissed him again. Roark only lasted a moment, pulling back once more to study Cos's flushed cheeks and half-shut eyes.

  "Amara said you were upset about something," Roark said, hoping to take Cos enough by surprise that he couldn't lie.

  "No?" Cos tried, looking away. Roark rolled his eyes, wondering why he'd been worried—Cos was a horrible liar.

  "What did I do this time?" Roark asked, sliding his hands down Cos's sides to curve his fingers over Cos's clothing-covered hips.

  "Nothing," Cos said immediately, and that sounded true at least.

  "So?" Roark growled, mostly because of the shiver that tone evoked.

  "Um," Cos said, biting his lip briefly. Roark valiantly resisted the urge to bite Cos's lip himself, waiting patiently for Cos to gather himself.

  "Don't get mad," Cos said, almost a guarantee that Roark wasn't going to like what he was about to hear. "Um, today I—this is—it's my birthday?"

  "Why didn't you say so earlier?" Roark grumbled half-heartedly, shaking Cos a
bit. "I could've gotten you something."

  "But I have everything I need," Cos said, shrugging. He looked away, his cheeks flushing darker. "And you, um, you're everything I want?"

  "You're just saying that so I can't get mad at you," Roark muttered, unable to keep from grinning stupidly.

  "Is it working?" Cos asked shyly. Roark rolled his eyes and just dragged Cos close for another kiss.

  *

  *

  *

  The Huntsman

  Part One

  "You just want to see me naked."

  "Nah. That's just a perk, Calder. Come on, you know we can't get it ourselves," said the nearest of the dwarves, one Samuel by name, and the most talkative one amongst them. Which was saying quite a bit, as they never shut up.

  Calder heaved a sigh, but began to strip, setting his clothes and belongings in tidy heaps well away from the side of the lake. Last of all, he pulled off the necklace he wore almost constantly, never liking to have the jeweled pendant far from reach. But he would not risk losing it in the deep, murky lake. "I would really like to know, one of these days, why a bunch of dwarves who cannot swim choose to live on one side of the kingdom's largest, deepest lake, and work on the other side of it. You could at least get some decent rope to tie up the damned boat."

  "Now, now, boyo," said another dwarf—Mick, more often called 'Professor'. "We need that boat back today, and the water is not getting any warmer. No sense in dawdling."

  "Dwarves!" Calder retorted, and threw up his hands as he strode onto the creaky old dock that he just knew was going to give way under him one of these days. Hopefully he would not be naked on that occasion.

  Normally, the dwarves' rowboat was tied up to the dock—but for the third time this summer already, the rope holding it had failed to actually hold. At present, the boat was damn near to the very center of the lake.

  Ignoring the whistles and calls and lecherous remarks made for the sole purpose of embarrassing and irritating him, Calder dove neatly into the cold lake water. There were, he supposed, worse ways to spend an hour or so than on an impromptu swim, even if he must be harassed about it by the very bastards asking him to do it.