by Xenia Melzer
Nestled in the white silk cushion lay the most exquisite golden belt the men had ever seen. Woven from thousands of little loops, it almost seemed like a cloth. At both ends of the belt, an emerald gleamed on the silk.
Sic had given his masterpiece to Daran.
Kalad was the first to regain his speech.
“I can’t believe it.”
Awed, Aegid touched the golden plaiting with his fingertips.
“Our brother is not only talented beyond all measure, he’s also more lavish than anybody I know.”
Daran was trembling.
“I can’t and I won’t accept this.” Determined, he reached for the lid. “I’m going to find Lord Sic right now and give him back the belt.”
Kalad stopped him before he could get up.
“No, you won’t do that. Or do you wish to insult our brother-in-arms?”
“Of course not. But there’s no way I can keep his masterpiece. Not when it was my fault to begin with.”
“It’s not that easy, Daran. A present like that, especially when it’s given as a symbol for a debt, can’t be handed back. Even if you forgive Sic—which I assume you’ve done already—it still remains in your possession. It’s not a pawn, but a symbol.”
“So what am I supposed to do now?”
Aegid grinned saucily.
“Wear it. We want to see how you look.”
Daran rolled his eyes.
“Is that all you can think about?”
Kalad embraced him from behind, his hands resting on the thief’s thighs.
“What else should we think about when you’re lying in our bed so gloriously naked, like a ripe, plump fruit we only have to pick?”
All his blood gathered in Daran’s loins. Without thinking, he offered himself to the brothers, as it had been his destiny from the day he was born.
3. TRUST
SAR’REFF WAS perched on one of the branches of the mighty oak tree growing next to the stables. He liked this place, where he was able to watch the buzz of daily activities without being a part of them. Meeting the demon king had been a lucky coincidence for which he was still grateful. Since he had encountered the Emperor of the Storms, his sanity, as well as his powers, had started to stabilize. He was still far from the state he had been in when he’d first come to this world, and it was entirely possible he would never get it back completely, but the haze clouding his memory was gradually lifting, and for the first time in decades, he dared to hope again.
Before he had followed the call to Ana-Darasa, he’d had no concept of time or even of himself. The steady pressure coming from the passing of days, weeks, and years had been the main cause for his inexorable slide into madness. It remained a mystery to him how those creatures the emperor called inferior managed to go about their business as if they weren’t aware of their slowly decaying bodies. They were so fragile, so short-lived, and yet stronger than him, who was barely able to stay focused in the face of all the laws that ruled this world.
A noise in the distance made him look up. Lys was coming back from his daily ride with his anchor. Until he’d met the emperor, Sar’reff hadn’t cared much about humans; to him, they were nothing but blobs that barely lived long enough to merit his attention. But the people staying with Lys were different. Of course, the anchor stuck out. Even Sar’reff could sense the connection he had to the demon king, although he doubted the boy knew what it really meant. So far, the stallion hadn’t decided to enlighten his rider about all his secrets, and Sar’reff would be damned if he dared to utter a word. Apart from the fact that he still found it difficult to speak at all, he didn’t know what to talk about with the anchor anyway. To him, the boy with his arrogant attitude, his stubborn strength that veiled the vulnerability of his soul, and his ruthless, demanding stance seemed even more out of place than Sar’reff himself was.
Interestingly enough, though, the anchor wasn’t the only outstanding person in the Valley. There were a lot of other interesting people as well. The two gods were powerhouses, brimming with energy very much like the one he knew from the other side. They were swords that cut reality into the pieces they needed. Then there was the shining one. Sar’reff never tired of looking at him, even though his light was so blinding. It was fascinating how pure magic could be contained within a shell that was comprised of nothing but thoughts and ideas. Now and then the magic would leak out, allowing glimpses of its vastness, only to be reined in by a smile and a friendly deed.
Meeting the snake witch had come as another pleasant surprise, since the snakes were known in his realm as well. They tended not to stay for too long, for they preferred the solidity of real worlds, but when they needed to rest, they went into chaos. The one who could bend time was intriguing. Sar’reff found it comforting to know that even this absolute force, which bothered him so much, could be altered and controlled. Then there was the dark one, who wore the shadows like a coat, attracting them without knowing it. Sar’reff was wary of him, for his power was precariously balanced. Only one little push and it could tip either way. Compared to this menace, the desert brothers were like a ray of sunshine, although this was mainly due to their attachment to the thief. The thief. Sar’reff didn’t know what to make of him. He seemed to be only human, but there was something about him… like an undercurrent in a peaceful lake. It could drown you before you knew it.
Now Lys had arrived at the stables. His blond rider slid down his back, his cheeks flushed by the cool air. He was greeted by the fiery god, whom everybody respected, if not feared, except for the boy. Which was probably the reason the god loved him so much. Finding somebody driven by the same fire, somebody so perfectly matched—it had to be the greatest blessing.
Lys whinnied imperiously, beckoning Sar’reff down the tree. The demon sighed. It was time for training.
“WHAT’S THE matter with you today, Sic? This is the third time I was able to break through your defense. When Renaldo sees how inattentive you are, he’ll flay you alive.”
Sighing, Sic lowered his sword. He was aware he wasn’t at his best today.
“I’m sorry, Casto. I’m distracted.”
“What’s the matter, Sic? You’ve been keeping to yourself the past few days. I hope you know you can tell me anything?”
The smith gave in. Except for Noran, he hadn’t told anybody about the incident with Daran; he had been too ashamed. And the desert brothers hadn’t said a word about it either, mostly due to the fact that they were too busy enjoying their reconciliation with Daran. It was hard to face Casto and tell him the ugly truth.
“I did something despicable. When I talked to Cornelia, she suggested it would be a good thing if I tried sex as the dominant party. So I asked Aegid and Kalad for help, and they offered Daran to me.”
“They did what?”
Casto didn’t know what shocked him more—the fact that Sic had seriously contemplated such an outrageous action without consulting him first, or that the desert warriors had even thought about sharing their precious thief.
“I know. If I hadn’t been so overwhelmed by their offer, I’d have been more suspicious, but so much has happened, I’m still scattered all over the place. Anyway, they brought Daran to me and after some hither and thither, the four of us ended up spending the night. I had a feeling Daran wasn’t as willing as he had claimed to be, but I got swept away by the mood. Basically, I took him against his will. When I realized what I had done, I went to ask his forgiveness, which he was gracious enough to grant me.”
“This is so bizarre, I can’t believe it.”
“Trust me, it happened. Whatever the problem between the three had been, they’ve solved it now. Ever since that night, I haven’t seen any of them, which can only mean they’re busy making up.”
Sic shuddered delicately. After everything he’d witnessed, he almost pitied Daran. Kalad and Aegid could be pretty intense, to put it mildly.
“Given your tense face, I assume this is not what bothers you.”
“We
ll, it does, but not as much as what happened afterward. I was completely riled up, not knowing what to do. Somehow, I ended up in front of the smithy and spent the day watching Noran while he made a sword—just like I used to.”
“I won’t like what you’re going to tell me now, will I?”
“No. You won’t. We talked and somehow, I ended up making an overture of peace. I don’t say everything’s good between us now, but we won’t be trying to avoid each other anymore.”
Sic didn’t dare look at Casto; he could almost feel the rage rolling off the king in waves.
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgiven him. That’s not what I intended when I sent you to Cornelia.”
“I know. And no, I haven’t forgiven him. I don’t know if I ever will. Talking to Cornelia was very therapeutic for me. It helped me gain perspective, and I was able to forgive myself. And as much as I regret what has happened to her, I don’t want to end up as lonely as she. Before that happens, I’ll try everything to escape this vicious cycle. I mean, we’re not talking about a lifetime of hatred and animosity that I could probably bear somehow. Since we’re both Emeris, chances are we’ll be trapped in the Valley together for centuries, or at least until the Good Mother is defeated. I can’t and won’t imagine eternity in a constant state of alarm for fear I could meet him unprepared.”
“Believe it or not, I think I can understand your reasoning. So what’s the plan now?”
“We agreed to try to act normal around each other, like brothers-in-arms should. It’ll surely take some time until this ceases to be awkward, but it’s a step forward.”
Casto sighed deeply. He didn’t like what he had just heard, mostly because it was logical and prudent. There was nothing more frustrating than when reason reared its ugly head.
“Are you going to forgive him?”
Sic hesitated long enough with his answer to stoke Casto’s fury.
“Don’t tell me you’re considering it! You know he doesn’t deserve it!”
“I know. And I didn’t say I will. I just don’t know myself. This is so messed up, all I want is to get out of this situation. And you’re one to talk! You forgave me even though I almost killed you.”
Casto shook his head dismissively.
“There wasn’t anything to forgive to begin with. Once I thought it over, it was crystal clear, so why should I have held a grudge?”
Sic leaned his head against Casto’s shoulder. No matter what the king said, becoming Sic’s friend had been an act of incredible kindness. It was just like Casto to dismiss his own noble gesture.
“You forgave Lord Renaldo, didn’t you?”
“No, he didn’t. He just decided to let it slide. Isn’t that true, Casto?”
Renaldo’s voice made Sic jerk up in surprise, whereas the king didn’t so much as blink. How Casto always knew when his mate was close remained a mystery to the smith. Now the mesmerizing blue eyes lit up in a way Sic had never seen before. There was a hint of regret, as well as anger, and a faint trace of amusement. Once again Sic realized how complicated and difficult the relationship between god and heart was.
“Why do you even ask when you know the answer already, Barbarian? I think we all know by now I’m not the lenient, forgiving type. And what you did was most certainly unforgivable.”
Renaldo smiled sadly at Sic.
“You see how it is, Sic. You can count yourself lucky. You’ve been singled out. Now, would you two care to explain to me why you’re sitting around, chatting like old men, when you should be warming yourself up for training?”
“It’s because Sic is about to do something really stupid—or, to be more precise, has done so already.”
It was hard to interpret Casto’s tone. He wasn’t entirely angry, nor was he truly amused. And the sarcasm underlying his words made Sic shiver. Renaldo stared at Sic, demanding an explanation.
“Tell me what the problem is. He’ll just play games.”
Casto pouted but didn’t object. Sic glanced from god to heart, looking for a way out of this dangerous situation. When he found none, he started retelling the whole story again. The Angel of Death listened intently, not disturbing him once. When Sic had finished, he looked him straight in the eye.
“I can’t see where the problem is. So you’ve decided to grant Noran the opportunity to earn himself a second chance with you. That’s very noble. Not what a certain someone we both know would ever contemplate, but it suits you.”
Casto glared at his mate. He had been in a foul mood all morning, and Sic’s little confession hadn’t helped to improve his state of mind. Being teased by the Barbarian almost made him snap.
“That’s not the point. I always knew Sic would forgive that despicable piece of trash sooner or later. I just didn’t think it would be so soon. It’s hardly been five months since the last time he forced you! So far, I haven’t seen him seriously repenting. All he does is run around with puppy eyes, wallowing in self-pity because he has finally realized what an ass he is. And you all fall for his act!”
“No, we don’t.”
Renaldo’s face was grim.
“But I’ve known Noran for quite some time, and I can assure you, he is repenting. And he’s changing. When I look at him these days, I can even find glimpses of the man I once deemed worthy of sharing my bed.”
Sic could feel the storm brewing. Noran was a sore topic to begin with, but when Casto was reminded of how the master smith had once shared carnal pleasures with the Angel of Death, he lost all reason. By now, a vein in his forehead was already throbbing dangerously, and his eyes had darkened into black, menacing holes. It was time to intervene before lightning struck.
“So you’re saying I did the right thing?”
Renaldo smiled.
“Yes. Not only for your own peace of mind, but also for the rest of us. It is rather awkward when the two of you meet, and since you’re one of us now, this will happen on a regular basis. The sooner you get over your animosity and establish at least a professional relationship, the better for all of us. You have my approval. And since we’re at it, have you decided about your colors yet? The Spring Ceremony is nearing, and it would be nice if you had your own ceremonial robes by then. Of course, Canubis and I are buying.”
Sic opened his mouth to respond but was too shocked to know what he should say. He had deliberately forgotten about the Ceremony, which terrified him almost as much as the idea of having sex again. It was just like the Angel of Death to bring it up now, when his defenses were low. After all, he was a predator who would instinctively strike at the weakest point of opponents and friends alike.
“You really don’t have to, Lord Renaldo. And no, I haven’t decided yet.”
“Then it’s about time. Even our best seamstresses need at least two weeks to make something acceptable. And now, you two, get your lazy asses moving. It’s time for some serious training.”
MORE THAN two hours later, when Sic had left them alone after the merciless exercises, Casto cornered his mate with a stern look on his face.
“You really are a heartless bastard.”
“I guess you’re referring to my little remark about the Spring Ceremony?”
“Little remark? You practically forced him to take part, and after everything he’s gone through.”
“He can decline anytime. It’s not compulsory, as you well know.”
Casto snorted.
“And you know as well as I do that Sic won’t ever go against your will.”
Until now, the Angel of Death had worn a mocking expression, but it turned serious all of a sudden.
“And he shouldn’t. What he can do is voice his opinion. As an Emeris, he has to learn how to do that. His new status comes with lots of privileges and a whole bunch of duties. Serving us well is one of them, and it entails the self-confidence to stand up for what he wants or deems right. Until he’s learned to do that, neither I nor Canubis will stop pushing him.”
Casto frowned. He couldn’t deny what his mate h
ad stated. It was indeed important for Sic to learn how to be a lord; his problems with his slaves were proof of that. Still, seeing his friend cornered like a sewer rat woke protective instincts in him he hadn’t been aware of until now.
“I understand. But you’re still a bastard. It’s all so new to him. You could cut him some slack.”
“But I won’t. And I may be a bastard, but that’s what makes the two of us so compatible. Birds of a feather….”
“Are you implying I’m a bastard as well?”
“I’ve seen you in action. If I had needed any more proof, Ummana would’ve provided it. You’re just like me and yes, I do mean it as a compliment.”
“You can take that compliment and choke on it, Barbarian. I’m done with you for today.”
With that, Casto stormed off. Renaldo watched the retreating figure of his beloved heart in mild surprise, for he hadn’t expected to get off so lightly. Perhaps it was because he had worked the two young men so hard. The Angel of Death straightened up. Without any doubt, there would be an aftermath to this skirmish, tonight in bed, and he could hardly wait for it.
NORAN WAS busy sharpening a sword he had finished the day before when one of his gods graced him with his presence. He bowed respectfully and waited with his gaze cast down. Since he and Sic had started their careful, shy approach to a polite acquaintance, his relationship with Renaldo had also eased somewhat. But he still avoided meeting his former lover more than necessary. The guilt he felt when he imagined how deeply he had disappointed the Angel of Death was too much. That the powerful warrior had refrained from punishing him until now only increased the burden on Noran’s shoulders.
“Can we talk?”
“Of course, my lord. Please follow me.”
Noran led his god into the private rooms, where he offered him some wine. The Angel of Death declined politely. He regarded the master smith intently and for so long that the bulky man started to shift uneasily.
