I walked away every time. I left them there to scream, to rot and die one poisoned moment at a time. Tash glared at the floor, his sight blurred with tears of disgust. I forfeited all their souls and for what? Loyalty?
No, not loyalty. Never loyalty. It was fear that stopped him from fighting back. Had he intervened, he would have been the next one broken, along with his family and everyone else he loved. Only seventeen at the time, he had forced himself to comply. The Breakers had pushed him to the edge of his tipping point, testing how much he needed to be damaged from the inside out before he shattered completely.
How he had any sense of self left was beyond him. His training as a guard never helped. At nineteen, he killed his first man in the training ring, and not by accident. Pride had gotten the better of him, the need to prove himself too strong to ignore, and taunts from the other guards only prodded his need for revenge. From that day forward, he swore he would work his way up to a better position instead of remaining a grunt. If he was going to lay down his life for the Shar-denn, he wanted the gang to pay him handsomely for it, if not in respect or blood of other members then in funds and leniency. Along the way, he broke whatever he needed to, whether it was a face or neck or back. Respect accompanied his efforts and earned him a place on Boss Colare's team of private guards, which kept not only Colare safe but his wife, their six children, and his two brothers.
In Colare's service, he learned what it was to spill a thief's entrails onto the floor and let scavengers have at it. He knew how to rip back the scalp of a traitor and hand them over to body workers for skinning. Colare was happiest when his enemy was in the greatest pain, and Tash had been another one of his well-trained beasts.
Those were his worst days, terrifying years he wished his memory would block. He had never needed a talon to tear into people—his passion to survive had done all the damage, and Colare drunk in every victory like the smoothest ale. The horrid dichotomy between what Tash was with the Shar-denn and who he was with Inesta and his family had always been deranged. He never wanted to see another drop of blood, to handle another weapon. The fight in Araveena Ford to save Ress and Adren had tortured him enough with nightmares for three weeks afterwards. Sometimes even sparring with Mayr pushed him too close to the edge of misery, raising the ghosts of dead emotions. Tash felt the shadows reach for him, poking at his calm, threatening to escape from the places he had trapped them.
He had always known what he was doing was wrong, and perhaps that was the worst truth. Whenever he had been with family or out among the villagers, he loathed himself, shamed by his choices and horrified by his actions.
But when he was with the Shar-denn, the darkness came easily. Violence was a familiar friend, his rage an insatiable fire. No matter how wrong he knew his actions were, he slipped into the skin of a monster, falling further and further from the man he could have been. In the search for himself, the gang opened every locked door and broke everything he had. How he could have loved Inesta at the same time was beyond him. There was little space for love. By the time he worked his way through the ranks to stand by Colare's side, he barely recognized himself. He forgot what it meant to be human.
It was that twisted, grotesque self he had heard reflected back in the sickening screams of the children he refused to kill on Colare's behalf—ten children who had died anyway, regardless of Tash's attempt to save them from his gang brothers.
The same men who had taught him how to fight also taught him to value rebellion, and he had invested it into sparing lives. Young, innocent lives that had been snuffed out with knives to their throats, their bodies discarded with the rest of their family.
After that night, his worth was reduced to how much flesh he lost to punishment. For every child he had tried to save, he screamed mercy, but not for himself. Instead, he had begged the Four to grant the children peace and a kinder new life. Their unfortunate relation to a faction boss at war with Colare was not their fault.
He would never regain what he lost. Those ten years stole who he would have been, replacing life with shadow. The boy he used to be had dreamed of what existed beyond the stars but died the day he met Colare. That boy was still kneeling in Ress's blood, desperate to tie a tourniquet made from his shirt.
All the reason why he knew Mayr's anger was justified.
I can't even disagree, not really. Tash groaned and leaned forward, hanging his head. As much as Mayr despised his priesthood, he had nothing else to show for himself.
If Mayr thought Tash was fearless, he was wrong. Tash was fear walking. The gang's memory was long and clear, but he could not spend the rest of his life hiding. There were promises to keep. He had to move on.
"I want you to move on with me," he whispered, wishing Mayr was there. "I need you to, because Ress isn't the one that's not good for me—it's me. It's always been me." A sob wrenched free from Tash and snagged in his throat. He rubbed tears from his eyes, defeated as more spilled over his fingers. He was falling apart without someone to catch him. That someone was elsewhere, hating his choices. Hating the trouble he brought.
It was not far from hating him.
He had seen what Mayr would do to protect him, but there was a limit to Mayr's understanding. His patience would run out.
We're supposed to be getting married in two months, but now it feels like forever. What if it becomes never?
Raps on the door jarred him.
"Yeah?" Tash croaked, wiping his eyes.
The door opened slowly. Arieve entered, dressed in an intricate, pale green bodice woven from various fabrics and a heavy, dark blue dress, its hem grazing the top of her black boots. Her tousled, unbound curls tumbled over her shoulders, strands of tiny silver beads shining among them. "Just wanted to check on you. Can I…?"
Tash nodded and moved the travel case to the floor. The door latched shut behind Arieve before she crossed the room to sit beside him.
"You looked upset earlier," she said, removing her boots. Arieve drew her legs up onto the bed and dug her heels into the edge of the mattress. "I went to check on Mayr, take him dinner, but Aeley and Pellon beat me to it. They're in his office, talking."
Stabbed by her words, Tash's heart threatened to bleed itself dry.
Arieve cupped his jaw. "I know something's wrong. I don't know what, but I'm here, and I'm pretty sure you shouldn't be left alone." With her thumbs, she caressed away the lingering wetness on his cheeks. "I'm not him, but I'm good at listening. I've heard so many of his woes. It's time you share yours."
When he said nothing, Arieve's lips brushed across his cheek. Whisper-light, the string of kisses left a blazing trail. "I'll be here if you want me to be," she said, sweeping his veil over his shoulder. "We don't have to talk. If you want me just to hold you, I will. Tell me what you need."
All of his silent answers collided together, smashed against the walls of don't, can't, and shouldn't. He hated being alone. Half his life had been spent feeling lonely, convinced no one understood what he had been through or wanted him enough to be there when he crumbled. Mayr had been the first to stay, the first to care.
Mayr, who hid behind his anger, far from where Tash needed him.
"Stay," Tash whispered. "Please. I can't…"
Arieve's arms slipped around him. "Can't be alone?" she finished, cradling his head against her shoulder. "You don't have to be. I'll stay with you, just like this, just keeping you in my arms."
Tash squeezed his eyes shut and breathed her in. Perfume clung faintly to her smooth skin, mixed with fragrant soap and savoury aromas from the kitchen. While he could not tell Arieve what horrors haunted him, he wanted to accept her comfort. The warmth that spread through his chest demanded it, teasing him with possibility.
He knew that feeling, a lightness that struggled to overpower an unyielding heat. Familiarity and need pushed and pulled, commanding he open himself to let someone in. Since his youth, he had needed that feeling, craved it. It was what had led him to Mayr and why he had almost lost M
ayr. Now it was the part of him that wanted Arieve.
He was falling for her, and there was no stopping it.
Even knowing Mayr's feelings for her, despite knowing she loved Coye, he desired her. He knew her body from memory alone, adoring how she sought his touch. Her taste lingered in his thoughts: sweet and salty and perfect. The laughter she could never seem to contain and the lilt of her voice offered more than notes—they were a remedy for what ailed him.
Tash may not have spent years dedicating pieces of himself to Arieve like Mayr, but he wanted to. In the quiet moments, he saw everything Mayr saw: she was colour and light, brilliant and blinding with all the rarity of a falling star. She was a gentle call to love rather than a piercing cry of lust. Earnest and welcoming, she was a part of them, staking her claim inside their hearts. Although she loved Mayr, she also saw Tash. What all she found in him gave him pause, knowing she could leave if she knew the full truth, but she saw him, included him. Instead of breaking them down, she built them up.
Clutching her close, Tash buried his face in the heat of her throat, lulled by the rise and fall of her chest. Being with her was the last thing he should do, given Mayr's temper, but he needed peace, just for a while.
"This might be more comfortable lying down." Arieve pulled his veil away and tossed it over the chest at the foot of the bed. Her hands glided over his shoulders, consoling him. "Let everything else go and the rest might come."
"Are you sure you've never considered becoming a priestess?" Tash smiled weakly, following her off the bed, his hand in hers. "Sometimes you sound like one of us."
Arieve laughed with a light snort. "What a catastrophe that would've been." She made quick work of removing his outer robe and unlaced the second robe, pushing his hands away when he tried to help. "I might scream the Goddess's names when I'm losing my mind, but that's all the worship I can manage. The rest…" With a shrug, she slid the second robe down his shoulders. "It's never been something I've spent much time on." A blush raced across her cheeks. "Not that it's not important or I don't care or anything. Because I do, and you make a wonderful priest, you have no idea. But I—it's just—"
Tash lifted her chin, leaning down to kiss her. "I won't judge you, gentle one. It was a compliment."
Her blush deepened. "Thanks," Arieve muttered, divesting him of his remaining clothes before skimming her spread fingers down his chest.
Want blazed in a quiet fire, his body ready to be wrapped in her tight heat. Every night she had come to their bed, he offered himself. Whenever she whimpered for his touch, he indulged her with wickedness. Each time she kissed him, he returned the gift with fervour. Anything she wanted he gave, and in return she let him make love to her as though she truly wanted him.
Tonight was not one of those nights. Arieve's hands did not tease. Her lips did not press to the tender spot beneath his collarbone that made him shiver and moan. There was no heated glance. She untied her bodice and stripped off her dress, then discarded both in a heap with her boots and thick emerald green stockings. Her sleeveless black under dress slipped off her shoulders and pooled on the floor. In the firelight, her skin seemed to emanate a soft glow all its own. Her eyes shone brighter than other nights as she ushered him into bed and urged him to lie against her side.
"That's it, just like this," Arieve murmured. She flipped the blankets over them. "I'm here for however long you need. Let me make it easier, whatever it is, no matter the worry." One of her hands passed over his back in slow circles; the other sank into his hair, massaging the sensitive places behind his ear and down his neck.
On his stomach, one arm around her waist, Tash nestled closer and rested his head on her breast. Beneath him, her heart beat out a steady rhythm, serene like a lullaby. Her touch lingered after every stroke, warding off the ghosts taunting his selfishness. Her scent wafted around him with a hint of something he could not identify, no different than the other subtle changes he had noticed in her since their first nights.
If his feelings were even a fraction of what Mayr felt for Arieve… There was no doubt why Mayr loved her. Beautiful as she was to look upon, she was even more gorgeous inside. Her greatest gift was the tender companionship that wrapped around Tash warmer than any blanket.
No matter how much fear argued what he was doing was wrong, everything about it felt right. The three of them could share a connection beyond pleasure. In the effort to forge a family, they were bound to find the rest of each other.
*~*~*
Dreaming was safer than facing the day. If he opened his eyes, he would have to face the truth: Mayr was not in bed and things between them were still not right.
Tash swallowed a sigh and shifted his arms around Arieve. At some point, they had turned onto their sides, her back against his chest. She slept soundly in his embrace, one hand in his. There was no other weight, no other sounds.
The lack of relief suffocated him. Memories of the previous day slotted themselves between harsher memories. He could still hear Mayr's anger.
We shouldn't be here like this, not without him. Tash silenced a groan. If he's still in a mood, this'll start the second round of yesterday and we'll lose twice the ground we could've gained. Me turning to her without checking with him, not respecting that he loved her first… Blessed be Emeraliss, because I've got none of Her grace.
However poor his choices, he could not stay in bed. He was to depart with Ress, Adren, and their escorts by mid-morning—assuming Mayr had bothered to assign guards. When Tash had spoken to Pellon before dinner, Pellon promised to discuss the details with Mayr. For all he knew, Mayr could have done nothing, determined to make his point.
With a sigh, Tash rolled onto his back and forced his eyes open. The faint light of dawn slipped through the slight part in the curtains, the blue and green windowpane glowing softly. Tempted to kiss Arieve's shoulder and steal a moment of comfort, Tash watched her sleep, telling himself he needed to leave her alone. Even without making love, he had taken advantage of her.
He turned onto his right side and stared at the wall, fingers fisted in his pillow. He had done enough damage. Doing anything more without Mayr's approval would drive a wider wedge between them. Mayr and Arieve deserved better. Tash needed to do better.
The tune of my life and I still haven't figured out all the right notes.
Tash raked his fingers through his hair. He needed to get up and be useful. Morning prayers, clothes, and something that resembles breakfast, even if my stomach disagrees…
His thoughts trailed, the list forgotten as he glimpsed his armoire.
Mayr.
Agony exploded in Tash's chest like a metal fist smashing his breastbone. Curled up against the doors of the armoire, Mayr huddled under the heaviest of Tash's discarded robes, his head resting on his raised knees. The robe hid most of Mayr's black clothing, his dark hair fanned over his shoulders. In the pale light, he resembled a child desperate to avoid the cold.
A child that became a man the instant Mayr lifted his head and opened his eyes. His hesitant gaze met Tash's, shadowed with exhaustion.
Mayr's shoulders sagged. His glance plummeted.
Tash's heart went with it.
"Mayr," Tash whispered, reaching for him. Hand outstretched as far as it would go, Tash's joints pulled until they ached. His fingers trembled in the cold silence.
The robe fell away as Mayr pushed up and crept to the bed. At the edge, he sank to his knees and interlaced his warm fingers through Tash's, steadying them. Mayr kissed the back of Tash's hand. "Pellon will be here soon," he said quietly.
Relief forced out the breath Tash was holding. "Why aren't you in bed? How long…?"
Mayr smiled sadly. "Neither of you woke when I came in. I didn't want to disturb you. Figured if I stayed there, I couldn't possibly miss saying goodbye." He drew his hand down Tash's arm and bracer. "That and I didn't deserve to be here."
His forlorn tone unraveled the sickening knots in Tash's worry. "Come to bed," Tash said, tugging
Mayr's hands. "That's the best send off I could ask for."
No other words were needed. Mayr stripped while Tash shuffled into the middle of the bed, nudging Arieve. Turned onto his side, Tash shivered as Mayr slipped into the bed behind him and curled his arm around Tash's waist.
Tender kisses trailed up his neck. "I'm sorry," Mayr murmured. "I shouldn't have said what I did, and never like that. What I said about Adren… I went too far." Rough morning stubble raked Tash's shoulder before Mayr settled his cheek on Tash's arm. "It wasn't fair and it wasn't your fault."
Peering over his shoulder, Tash caught Mayr's troubled glance. "You could have told me what was bothering you. I would've listened."
"That wouldn't have been fair, either," Mayr said. "I was the one who needed to listen. Instead, I hurled my anger at you and took your needs down with it. Then you were there after dinner and I could've made it up to you, but I let you walk away. I didn't even tell you why."
"I wanted to know if we were all right." Tash slid his hand over Mayr's and interlaced their fingers. "If you needed something I could give."
Mayr buried his face in Tash's hair, his sigh hot on Tash's nape. "I needed time, Halataldris." Tash stiffened, not sure he wanted to know the rest, but Mayr pulled him closer. "Not because I was angry. It was this damn meeting. I needed to finish preparing for it, and I couldn't do that with you there." He lavished Tash's spine with light kisses. "You're every distraction I'd die for and every excuse I couldn't afford. Council needs this information—we need it if we're going to make a difference."
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