Milan smiled at him from his horse. Lord Raphael looked so innocent at that moment, a delighted smile on his face. It sent a pang of sadness through Milan. Who had this man been before his first bonding? Milan had thought that the cruel man who oppressed him was the real Lord Raphael, and the ‘good man’ everybody saw was the farce—but perhaps it was the other way around.
They dismounted their horses and let them graze once they reached their destination. The pea trees that met them were abundant with green leaves and pods, the branches hanging down due to their weight.
“Fiona?” Lord Raphael called. After a moment, a stout, dark-haired Omega appeared as if from thin air.
“Lord Ledford! Look, what do you think?” she said with no preamble, as if she had expected them all long. She put her hands on her hips, peering at the trees. Lord Raphael joined her as Milan watched with interest.
“Yes. A day or two.”
“Just what I was thinking. Look how gorgeous they are,” she cooed. Milan stifled a laugh. “We’ll start picking after the dew, day after tomorrow. They’ll probably give a second harvest not long after that. And look at the pods! They’ll make excellent mulch.”
“They look perfect, Fiona.”
“They do. They’re beautiful!” Very suddenly, she turned to look at Milan. “Aren’t they?”
Milan startled at the sudden attention. Fiona’s eyes were pea-green, ironically, and quite piercing. “Oh, yes. Very. Are they always harvested so near winter?”
“No, no—these hardy girls can be harvested about…seventy days after planting. We tried a strain for early harvest but, bah, they weren’t as good.”
“How long have you been working with pea trees?”
“Oh, all my life! I’ve had pea every day since I was born,” Fiona said proudly.
Milan nodded along. “I can’t wait to try some.”
“Right, come here, look at this one…” Fiona said, turning to Lord Raphael again. He threw Milan a small smile and followed her, Milan trailing behind, his hand in Raphael’s as he listened to the two of them discuss how they would cut the trees into stumps and use the roots to enrich the earth before the next harvest.
This seemed to set the theme for the day. Much like that afternoon many weeks ago, when Milan had accompanied Lord Raphael on his rounds, Milan would listen until he couldn’t keep still anymore, and then burst out with a few questions before falling silent again. Instead of glaring, however, Lord Raphael looked a little uncomfortable but managed to keep his expression friendly, if not a little blank.
Milan was exhausted by the time they rode back to the manor and yet felt lively with the adventure.
“Don’t you get sad when they butcher so many pigs in winter?” Milan asked as they stepped inside the manor hand-in-hand.
Raphael tilted his head slightly. “I used to get very upset when I was a child, and there was a year that I refused to eat any meat. But when I realised how vital it was for the survival of people in winter—especially the cured ham—it changed my mind. It’s a necessity, and the pigs have a good life until then.”
“Hmm. I guess.”
“Why? Do you want to abstain from pork this winter?” Lord Raphael asked, a knowing smile on his face.
“Well, no, but…oh, I wish I hadn’t seen their faces.”
Lord Raphael chuckled. He had done that a lot today. “It’s good to appreciate where your food comes from.”
“Not if it’s cute,” Milan grumbled. Raphael shook his head.
“Shall we go to the library? I believe the fire should be lit.”
“Oh, please. My toes are ice.”
“A wonder, with the fifteen pairs of socks you have on.”
“It’s only two! I would like to see you survive in the heat of the South.” Milan sniffed.
Lord Raphael pretended to shudder. “Please don’t threaten me.”
Milan snorted. “Keep that in mind before you make fun of my furs.”
“I shall.”
The rest of the day was spent tranquilly, and they remained in good humour through dinner, talking even as they retired to Milan’s room despite having spent so much of the day speaking to each other.
“Were you always interested in harvesting? Or were you forced upon it by your title?” Milan asked, a hand over his tummy, feeling stuffed after the particularly good stew that had been served.
“I was always interested.” Lord Raphael opened the door to Milan’s chambers and they both stepped inside, hands linked between them.
“I could never get the hang of it. It requires too much patience,” Milan said.
“In a way. I just like…there is something magical about it, I find. You need to let go of control—nature will do what it will. You can only help it along. It can be freeing, to work together with something so grand.”
Milan stared at him, both of them standing in the middle of the room now, looking at each other.
Lord Raphael shuffled awkwardly. “I’ll go get ready for bed, then.”
Milan looked at him. “I think we should share a bed tonight.”
Lord Raphael opened his eyes wide, taking a step back, although he did not let go of Milan’s hand. Milan flushed.
“I didn’t mean it like that! I meant—I know how uncomfortable it must be to sleep in that chair every night, even stuffed as it is. It’s ridiculous—the bed is big enough for four of us.”
Lord Raphael looked down.
Milan bit his lip. “If you are uncomfortable, of course, we don’t have to. I just meant—”
“No, it’s all right. That would be…thank you. But, if at any point you change your mind—”
“I’ll tell you. I promise.”
Lord Raphael smiled slightly, eyes still shadowed by whatever thoughts or memories were crawling through his mind. He nodded decisively a moment later, however. “All right. I’ll get washed and ready,” he said before leaving.
Milan stared at the adjoining door between their rooms for a moment after it had shut. There was a spark of fear inside him too, but he couldn’t watch Lord Raphael sleep in a chair any longer.
They never went to bed so early, of course, but for convenience’s sake would stay in Milan’s room and read or do a little more work until the candles had burnt down. They did so that night also, and when it was time to go to bed, did so awkwardly, laying stiffly, far away from each other, their hands joined together.
“This is a little ridiculous, isn’t it?” Milan whispered finally into the darkness. He heard Lord Raphael chuckle slightly.
“Perhaps.”
There was a moment of silence. Milan took a deep breath.
“Thank you, Lord Raphael. Truly. I…I know this is difficult for you. I know you are trying.”
“As I should have from the start. Do not thank me, please. This is the bare minimum.”
Milan sighed. Another moment of silence.
“Do you mind that I call you Milan, without a title? I don’t know why I do it.”
“Of course not. I’m not accustomed to a title, it means nothing to me.”
“Would…would you mind calling me Raphael, then?”
Milan smiled into his pillow.
“All right. Good night, Raphael.”
“Good night, Milan.”
Sleep came easier than expected after that.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Milan made a noise of interest as he flipped the page, immersed in the words in front of him.
“Good book?”
Milan jumped, twitching away for a moment before looking at Raphael seated next to him. Milan laughed at his own reaction, free hand over his heart. “Sorry, I think I lost myself in the book. Yes—it’s just that I read something very obvious and wondered why I hadn’t realised it before.”
Raphael raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“Well—I was wondering why steam was such a common thing to propel machinery here in the North, but not the South. Of course, steam requires the construction of a
large heater underneath the building—or inside the machine—to work. This is a problem in machines, as they can overheat—an interesting topic all in itself—but it can be an advantage in buildings if it’s cold outside. Which, of course, it never really is, in the South. Having such a large heater underneath or in the house…”
“You’d boil alive.”
“Exactly. But it’s interesting because, here, these heaters are serving multiple purposes in houses, but in smaller machines—I’m just wondering if another type of controlled heat—friction, or contained explosions…” Milan trailed off, thinking. Surely there was a more efficient way to operate smaller apparatuses.
“You have a deep interest in this topic,” Raphael said, bringing Milan’s attention back to the conversation.
“Yes, very. It’s endlessly entertaining.”
“You know that there is a talented mechanic and inventor in town.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Would you not like to do an internship with her?” Raphael asked. Milan blinked at him in surprise.
“You would…that would be allowed?” he asked in wonder. Raphael looked down at their joined hands.
“Of course. I know…my behaviour has not spoken kindly of my character in the past but, let me assure you, I will be in support of any of your endeavours,” he said quietly.
Milan squeezed his hand gently. “That’s good to know. Not all Alphas are like that.”
Raphael scoffed in disgust, a noise which made Milan smile widely.
Raphael shook his head. “I’ll let you get back to your book. Tell me when you want to go for a walk—I’ve finished with the accounting and don’t want to get started with the rest yet.”
“We can go now,” Milan said easily. The sun was shining outside, meaning it would be cold but beautiful.
“No, please, you were obviously in the middle of—”
“It’s nothing. The book will be here when we return, and my back is aching. I need to stretch my legs.”
Raphael looked like he didn’t quite believe him but nodded and got up anyways.
After dressing for the weather, they stepped outside into the fresh air, an instant revival of the senses. They walked down their usual route, which had grown longer the more accustomed to each other’s company they became. There was even a strange, intimate romanticism about their hands swinging between them, sharing warmth.
Raphael cleared his throat. “I know it has been my fault for not asking before, but I don’t know much about your family. Do you miss them?”
Milan smiled ruefully. “Very much. They are—well, there’s a lot of them. My father has two brothers and a sister, and my mother has four sisters and two brothers, so I have cousins to spare. And I have two sisters myself.”
“And you get along with everybody?”
Milan laughed loudly. “Raphael—even as tolerant of my character as you are, you must know that isn’t true.”
“I truly have no idea what you are talking about,” Raphael answered, looking puzzled. Something fond unfurled in Milan’s chest.
“Well—I’m not the most docile of people. It’s not that there is much bad blood between us, but I’ve gotten into quite a few arguments with several people in my family. I find it natural to do so, though—you cannot be surrounded by so many people and get along with all of them.”
“And with your sisters?”
“Yes—they are both younger. An Alpha and an Omega, and I love them dearly. Imane is the younger one—Alpha—and she is as quiet and polite as a mouse. She would not step on your toes, even if it was the only way to get out of a burning building.”
“I imagine you are quite protective of her.”
“You imagine correctly. It was difficult to leave her behind, but I know she is being taken care of.”
Raphael was silent for a while. “You must have been very lonely when you came here, coming from all of that,” he said quietly. Milan looked down at the muddy earth they were crossing.
“Yes,” he said simply. Raphael ran a hand down his face.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Milan sighed. “I know.”
“I had convinced myself that I was trying, you know. But I wasn’t. That first night—I never have my associates for dinner. Never.”
Milan laughed quietly, remembering his first dinner at Ledford Manor, how shocked he had been that Raphael and he hadn’t been alone.
“I must say, I wasn’t terribly happy to find myself in a room full of Alphas. I thought you might be sending me a message.”
Raphael choked, freezing in place and making Milan stop walking with him. “Milan—truly, I did not mean it that way. Those were the only people I could invite at the last minute—I did so in a panic the day before. I thought, I don’t know, if you were like…like Jack, if others could see…”
“I know now, Raphael.” Milan sighed again. “For those months—we lived different versions of the same events. You were convinced I was trying to hurt you. I was convinced you were trying to hurt me. We must accept what has been done.”
“It’s not that simple,” Lord Raphael argued.
Milan shook his head. “It’s not about it being simple or not. I want to go forwards.” He looked at Raphael imploringly. “Let’s just go forwards.”
Raphael looked at him for a long time. “Are you unhappy?” he asked finally. Milan laughed at the unexpected query.
“No, Raphael. I’m not. Of course I miss my family and my land but…I can see a future for myself here, now. In fact, there may be more opportunities for Omegas here, as backward as that sounds. Everything is more open there, but that seems to hide the true prejudice against us.”
Raphael nodded slowly. “If you are—if I do something to make you unhappy…”
Milan smiled. “I think I will become comfortable with sharing my pains and worries with you, Raphael. I only ask you the same.”
Raphael looked down. “All right.”
After a moment, Milan tugged at Raphael’s hand slightly and got them walking again. “What about you? Your family?”
“Quite the opposite of yours. I was never close to my extended family. My father was the one that was given the title of ‘Lord’ after the war, which he served in, but he did not live far beyond the end of the declaration of peace. He came back…altered. I was just a boy when he left, but even I could tell the difference.”
“How did he die?”
“He just seemed to…the war, I think, took something from him. Something deep, internal. He just…wasted away.”
Milan felt his chest clench. His mother had also gone to the war, but she had survived it despite losing a leg and seemed to appreciate life even more afterwards. “I’m…I can’t imagine, Raphael. I’m so sorry.”
Raphael shook his head. “I can’t change the past. I did not know him well at that point, but my mother…I think she had been waiting so long for a reunion, for life to return to how it had been before, that his death and the severing of the bond crippled her. She succumbed to pneumonia the winter after my father’s death. And I was left with the estate.”
Raphael’s face was lost in memory and sorrow. Not knowing what to say, Milan pulled them to a stop again and then released Raphael’s hand, throwing his arms around his middle and hugging him close.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. Milan’s family meant so much to him—he didn’t know what losing them like that would feel like.
After a stiff moment, Raphael wrapped his arms loosely around Milan. “It’s all right. It’s in the past.”
Milan shook his head against Raphael’s chest. “The past can still hurt. It’s all right to still hurt,” Milan whispered.
Raphael’s arms tightened around him. It was warm, Raphael’s familiar Alpha smell heightened by closeness. Milan closed his eyes. He could almost fall asleep there.
Milan blinked blearily when Raphael pulled away, the sudden cold slapping him into alertness. Raphael was smiling softly at him
.
“Thank you,” he said. “And you must know—your family is welcome here, whenever they want to come. And you, of course, when the bond is stable, are free to visit them.”
Milan smiled widely back. “They are your family now too, you know.”
Raphael looked stunned for a moment before he looked away, a flush on his face. “Come on, let’s keep walking before we freeze.”
They said nothing for the rest of the walk, but their hands held each other tightly between them.
**********
“Milan,” Raphael said in surprise. Milan looked up, smiling.
“Hello. I thought I’d wait for you in your study, now that you’re not in the library as much.”
It had been a month since Milan’s heat, and Raphael and he could be separated for hours. The doctor, who had been visiting regularly as promised, assured them that the bond was recuperating well. Milan and Raphael still had to sleep in the same bed, and would always walk together once a day, but worked separately when Raphael had to go out to talk to the workers. Milan would accompany him sometimes, but there were cold and rainy days he preferred to stay inside, where it was warm.
“Yes. Right,” Raphael replied, still staring at him. Milan got up from the desk chair slowly.
“Is everything all right?” Milan asked.
“Yes, of course,” Raphael said stiffly. Milan swallowed. There was a blankness in Raphael’s expression that made his stomach clench.
Raphael strode into the room, making Milan step out of the way. He took the papers that were spread across the table and piled them neatly before putting them in a drawer. Milan clenched his teeth at the obvious show of distrust.
“Did you need something?” Raphael said, not dismissively, but without any warmth.
“No, I was done spying on your affairs, so I’ll just go now,” Milan said sarcastically. Raphael whipped his head around quickly to look at him.
“Excuse me?”
“That’s what you were thinking, wasn’t it? Here we go again.” Milan threw his hands in the air angrily.
“That’s not—I didn’t say anything to suggest that.”
“Oh, you don’t have to say anything. It’s all over your face.”
Honeythorn: Alpha/Omega Page 12
