Devon Vesper

“Papa! I’m home!”

Kerac jerked upright out of a dead sleep with a hoarse gasp. Those words haunted him, echoing in an endless loop as he clutched at his bedclothes and rocked back and forth, shaking uncontrollably. The same dream had plagued him for weeks. Each night was the same. Now he perspired so much that his sheets stuck to him in uncomfortable ways and his waist-length black hair felt more like soaked seaweed stuck to his skin than its usual sheet of silk when it was clean and tamed.

He shivered, and with a glance toward the hearth, he found the fire he had set the evening before now held cold coals. Reaching over, he adjusted the wick in his bedside lamp to cast a soft glow to his sparse room and peeled himself out of his soaked sheets. The shivering wouldn’t stop. Rarely did it ever last shorter than an hour, and not even a fire would warm him, but it felt better to sit next to roaring flames than in a cold room soaked to the bone in cold sweat and tears.

Papa! I’m home!

Kerac bit his lower lip as he hastily stacked wood and tinder, bit it harder as he pushed magic into the pile to ignite it. He almost drew blood as he worked to set the screen in place. If he started crying now, he would be useless for hours, and he couldn’t let himself fall into that trap every morning. He had duties to attend to and having everyone stare at him or stop him in the monastery halls to make him confess his troubles would hinder his chores’ progress.

Not that he cared much for his chores. But duty was duty, be it farm work, war training, or manning the library.

The echo of those three words chased him into his lavatory to bathe, followed him to the mirror where he barely recognized himself for his gaunt features and the dark circles under his eyes, trailed beside him, inside him, as he forced himself to dress. It sat beside him as he curled in front of the fire in a vain attempt to get warm.

No matter what he did, he could not forget. He could not outrun the dream, could not put it out of his mind. The image of a tall, blond young man cresting a hill and calling, “Papa! I’m home!” burned through every waking thought until sleep claimed him at night and chased him awake every morning.

The eerie thing was, the young man had no face, no distinguishing marks other than he wore the armor of Aesriphos—the elite warrior mages whose duty it was to quell uprisings of Qos adherents and find the missing God Jar.

Was it a vision of his future mate? Kerac shuddered and pulled the dry blanket closer about his shoulders. “No. He calls me Papa.” Sighing, he settled back into the rocking chair and tucked his feet under him. “I’m an Aesriphos Aspirant… Phaerith, what does this mean?”

Of course, his god had no answer for him, or none that Kerac could interpret. Instead of waiting for such an answer, he glanced at the clock over his door and huddled under the blankets. He had an hour before breakfast. It always seemed that the dreams woke him earlier and earlier each day. But, he went to bed earlier and earlier each night, so he supposed that was fitting.

Instead of sitting around, Kerac got up and donned his training armor. He had surpassed chain training long ago, and now his plate armor felt almost like a second skin. The heavy mass weighed him down, but as he adjusted the straps, it gave him an inner strength he never knew he could possess. With his armor on, he felt like he could take on the world… until he reached the indoor training arena and found other men and women training where he thought he might have the space to himself.

The high white walls, domed ceiling, and rough-hewn, scuffed, dirty white-stone floor echoed with the jibes and jeers of those sparring inside, some in groups of two, some with more opponents. Kerac’s eyes strayed, though, to a particular man who trained against a dummy made of wood, burlap and straw stuffing. He made no sound other than a few grunts with each swing. His silence, his intense focus held Kerac captive so he was helpless to do anything but watch in rapt fascination.

Sweat poured down into the man’s eyes, down his neck. His shaggy brown hair lay plastered in soaked waves around his face. His brown, intense eyes stayed on his target, but seemed to miss nothing of the chaos that ensued around him. Each swing of his wooden practice sword whistled through the air to hit the dummy with precision so tuned that Kerac wondered if he was Aesriphos training without his mate, or a very advanced Aspirant.

Something about the silent, confident way he fought called to Kerac so much he could not look away. He stayed rooted there in the entry, staring until someone knocked on the back of his left pauldron. “You moving, or you going to stare at the pretty man all day?”

Kerac relaxed and turned toward his friend. “You’re never an early riser, Rylas. What are you doing here this early, and in your armor?”

Rylas chuckled and nodded his head toward the back of the arena. “Same as you, my friend. Same as you.”

Following his gaze, Kerac saw a young aspirant battling away with one of the elder mentors for their war class in a rather fierce spar. The man bore a striking resemblance to a sprinter dog with a long nose, lean features, and sleek auburn hair that he kept tied back in a brutal braid. “You fancy him, Rylas?”

Rylas nudged Kerac’s shoulder with his own, almost sending him into the wall. “His voice is gorgeous. Have you heard him sing?”

Well, no. Kerac grimaced. Rylas knew Kerac didn’t get out and mingle. It took much in the mornings to even visit the breakfast hall to eat without crippling anxiety. So no, he’d never heard the young man sing, and he wondered if Rylas meant the question to be as mean as it felt.

“His name is Naril,” Rylas went on. He took Kerac by the elbow and led him to a spare bit of ground within the arena, so they would stop blocking the entry, but could still see their fascinations. “He asked me to come spar with him, so I’m waiting for him to finish with his mentor.”

Kerac blanched. “He asked you?”

His friend laughed, the sound echoing above the sounds of Aesriphos Aspirants having fun, their wooden practice swords clashing against armor. “That’s how social interactions work, Kerac. You must try it sometime.”

He motioned back to the one with brown hair who had earlier captivated Kerac’s entire attention. “Go on. Go up to him.” He gave Kerac a push, but instead of being propelled forward, Kerac almost went on his face because his feet refused to move.

“I can’t!” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I just—I—I c—can’t!”

“You can,” Rylas murmured into Kerac’s ear. “Shit, boy. Just go up to him. You may not even need to talk. You’re rather gorgeous, you know.”

Him? Gorgeous? Had someone knocked Rylas over the head with one too many practice swords? Kerac stared at his friend, his mouth agape and eyes wide. “You can’t be serious…”

Rylas rolled his eyes and gave another shove so hard that Kerac stumbled forward a few steps, but he scrambled back, and if it hadn’t been for Rylas catching him about the waist, he would have fled the training hall altogether. “L—let me go!”

“Not until you go up to him.”

“I can’t!”

“You can!”

He hadn’t realized he was crying until Rylas shucked off his gauntlet and wiped a tear track from his face with a heavy sigh. “Kerac…” He sighed again, more heavily this time. “Go on. Go calm down.”

Panic fueled his run, and before he knew it, Kerac slammed his door closed and leaned against it, fighting for each breath as his throat squeezed closed. His tongue felt too big for his mouth. Each breath came in squeaky, raspy gasps until something broke and he began sobbing.

And all throughout his breakdown, as he slid down the door to collapse onto the floor in a heap of armor and tears, he wondered why his soul kept calling him to service in the Aesriphos Order. Why did he want it so badly when he couldn’t even bear the thought of going up to a stranger for a spar? How could he get past his fear and do the duty that everyone expected of him? It made little sense, but his heart ached when he thought of quitting.

Phaerith, help me.

The hounds bayed. They crashed through the underbrush as they gave chase. Valis panted hard. He pushed for more speed, vaulted over a fallen tree. They loomed so close that their fetid breath sickened him with each puff.

Farm work didn’t teach you how to run. It taught you how to be strong. It taught you how to adhere to duty and accept responsibility. Terror taught you how to run. Terrified, Valis lengthened his stride. He forced all he had into putting one foot in front of the other.

Howls echoed close behind him as the hounds scented his fear. They put an extra burst of speed into their gait and leaped ahead. One of them caught the tails of Valis’s tunic and jerked back, nearly forcing Valis off his feet. He lunged forward at the last moment. As the shirt tore, he prayed to his Patron God to give him more speed. Please, Sovras, help me. I can’t do this alone.

Light flickered ahead. It glinted between the trees. How far was it? There wasn’t another farmstead for half a league in this direction. Strangers. He shuddered, but his run didn’t flag. Anything and anyone was better than his father—better than ending up a smear on his blade.

“Help!” he cried. “Please, help me!”

“You get your pathetic ass back here, boy!” his father bellowed from behind the hounds. His heavy footsteps thundered behind him. They trampled the thick underbrush and ate the ground. “I own you!”

Valis’s vivid imagination told him that his father’s face grew purple with rage and exertion from the mad chase through the forest. He knew from memory that spittle flecked the man’s lips, and his fists habitually clenched and flexed. If those hands reached him, they’d snap his neck like a brittle twig. He may appear stately, but in a rage, he was nothing but a beast, no better than the hounds that snapped at Valis’s heels.

Sovras, please… I beg your mercy! Shouts arose from ahead. The light flickered nearer. The whispers of steel against leather came unnaturally loud, shivered the air as if by magic. Just as he broke the tree line and entered the clearing, brilliant shining armor nearly blinded him. A wall of two large bodies surged in his direction.

Without thinking, Valis dropped into a skid feet-first. He laid flat as he slid between the legs of the two men and came to a stop a few feet behind them near their surprised horses. The yelps of his father’s hounds sounded their demise. His heart hammered in his chest as Valis looked up at the warriors, too scared they would remand him to his father’s custody to do more than whimper, “He’ll kill me.”

“Quiet,” the brown haired man on the left ordered.

Valis shrank back and huddled in a ball on the ground, trying to make himself as small as possible. Unseen. Unheard. He wasn’t weak, nor was he a coward, but at the moment he wheezed every breath and shook with the adrenaline that flooded his system. For all his almost eighteen years, Valis had never run that hard, that far, or that fast. He knew he’d never survive running from these men, not with horses at hand.

His father entered the field, a smug smile on his face that belied his earlier rage. He barely glanced at Valis as he spread his arms wide in welcome. But Valis knew all too well that his father knew exactly where he was, what state he was in, and was already calculating ways of making him pay for chasing him three quarters of the way across their property. “Thank you, gentlemen, for detaining my errant son. I am Roba Bakor, Mage Lord of Vau Taun. You are camping on my territory.”

“Your son is afraid of you, Lord Bakor,” the raven-haired warrior on the right said. “He says you will kill him.”

“Children say many things of their strict parents,” Roba said with a light chuckle. He lifted a shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. With as hard as he ran, Valis’s father looked fresh. His breath came slow and even as if he ran all day every day for sport. Rather than a sweaty, matted mess, his golden hair fell in glossy waves behind him, his skin clear and radiant as if he sat before the hearth in his office with a warm brandy in one hand, and Valis’s mother’s hair in the other. The sight of him, how perfect he looked, how he appeared to be a benevolent man to these strangers, made Valis want to rip his father’s face off. The Mage Lord went on, his brief smirk brighter as if he knew Valis’s every hateful thought. “He shirked his duties, and must pay the consequences.”

A lifetime of pain and rage flooded Valis’s system until he shook with it and clenched his fists. “He lies! He killed my mother. He plans to sacrifice me to Qos next!”

“Qos?” Both warriors tensed and regarded Roba for a long moment. Valis didn’t dare hold out hope, didn’t dare believe the satisfaction in his guts. His father, the Mage Lord, gave nothing away. He kept a serene, confident smile in place and remained in a relaxed pose. This was when his father was the most dangerous—these times when he appeared the most beneficent.

The raven-head lifted his chin defiantly. “You are an adherent of Qos, Lord Bakor?”

“He has the tattoo!” Valis cried. “It’s behind his left ear!” And then his guts twisted and churned, because he’d just lost any hope of their mercy, if they had any to begin with. But his father wasn’t done yet. The man would never be done until he was dead.

A black haze burst to life around his father as he keyed into the power of Qos. His voice held a hard edge, even as he whispered most of the words, “Traitorous little whoreson! I will teach you to keep your tongue!”

Black mist swirled about him. He pushed his hand out, and a bolt of black lightning streaked toward Valis. He cringed, expecting to die, but forced himself to watch. If he was to die, he wanted to see it coming, not hide behind a false wall of darkness and cowardice.

When it struck a golden sphere just inches from his head, Valis blinked. He’d never seen magic of this color before. Only black. The gold almost made him want to hope. Made him want to believe the difference in the colors meant they were nothing like his father, nothing like the rest of their family. That difference briefly made Valis forget he should have just died.

“This boy is under our protection,” the raven haired warrior growled. “You are under arrest for wielding forbidden magic.”

Roba paled at the golden glow and reinforced his shields. The warrior on the right murmured what sounded like a prayer. The one on the left spoke a single word, and Roba’s translucent black shield shattered. His eyes went wild, too much of the whites showing, as if his magic had all but fled him. Another word, and golden bands encircled his arms, legs and mouth. He tottered and fell onto his back. Valis had only a moment to wonder if his father was so easily dispatched, or if these men were better—or worse—than Roba.

Now unconcerned, the Paladins turned their gazes on Valis. The raven-head knelt next to him. “What is your name, boy?”

“Valis Bakor, my Lord,” he replied, head down and shoulders hunched. He didn’t dare look either in the eye, as that always got him a boot to the face, or whatever was lying at hand.

“Do you have the tattoo, as well?” he asked, his voice hard, but level.

“Y—yes, sir.” His stomach pitted. It always did that when he was about to get into trouble. But maybe if he cooperated, his punishment wouldn’t be severe. Maybe, if he cooperated, they would have mercy. One look up at the one with the hard brown eyes, craggy face, and short, brown hair, and Valis doubted he’d get anything less than a heavy hand. But, he turned his head and pulled his left ear toward his face to show the red insignia of Qos on his neck hidden behind it and explained hastily, “Father did it when I was an infant. I swear!” He hated the tremor in his voice, but pushed on, his words water weak, and trembling. He couldn’t seem to keep the wobble out of his lower lip, which made him hate himself almost as much as he hated his father. “I didn’t want it. I want Sovras.”

The man with the long raven hair quirked a brow when Valis whispered his god’s name, but nodded and patted his shoulder, then frowned when Valis flinched away. “I believe you.” His voice turned kind as he said, “We must return you to your holding. If you spoke true, your mother deserves a proper pyre.”

The kinder tone forced Valis to relax. It seemed strange to have that tone directed at him when he thought there was no reason. He scrubbed a hand over his face and pushed back his long blond hair, wincing as his hand encountered leaves and errant twigs from his frantic run. Now if only he could get his voice to work. Perhaps if he was polite, the man’s voice would retain that kindness. At the very least, it might keep them from hitting him or putting him in those magical bands as they had his father. His voice cracked, but he prided himself that it otherwise remained steady. “Thank you for saving me, my Lords. May I have the pleasure of your names?”

“Your father does not seem the type to give you such formality.” The Paladin let out a huff of subdued laughter. “Your mother has reared you well.” He squeezed Valis’s shoulder with a kind smile that made his handsome face more striking with the way his golden eyes shone in the firelight. “I am Kerac Vihn, and this is Darolen Jaund. We are Holy Warriors, or Aesriphos. Your people call us Paladins.”

Valis nodded and did his best not to shrug off that hand. Must remain polite. Kindness can be a lie. “You serve Phaerith, the Faceless One.”

Kerac chuckled but shook his head. “Phaerith is correct, though he is not faceless. That is the wrong translation.” His accent was barely there, but as he spoke more, it grew just a little thicker. “Idai Sos does not mean Faceless One, it means Many Aspects, or Many Faces.”

“I don’t understand,” Valis said. His curiosity got the best of him, and he shifted so that he sat on his rump. Open curiosity often earned him a tentative respect with the seasonal farm workers. Perhaps it would work here. “How can he have many faces?”

“Would you pack our things, Darolen? This discussion should be made on horseback so that his mother can find peace.”

“Certainly, Brother.”

Mild panic settled into Valis’s gut and clenched his heart and lungs. They wanted to go with him? They’d said so before, but he hadn’t believed them. Now, faced with riding with one of them, his mind spun with all the possibilities. No one would hear him scream. No one would come even if they could.

Kerac must have sensed his panic, or seen it on his face. As Darolen saddled the calmed horses and attached bundles that never had the chance to get unpacked, Kerac smiled and held out a hand to help Valis to his feet. “You have heard of our pantheon, yes?” Valis nodded, still skeptical, still with that crawling anxiety, but took the man’s hand and stood as Kerac went on. “It is a hierarchy. Phaerith is the head. Karei and Vorik are the left and right shoulders. Sotec and Xysoz are the left and right arms. Asenth and Delys are the chest and abdomen. Dapen and Racal are the left and right legs.”

“What about Sovras?” he asked. “Sovras is my patron.” Was my god always a figment of my imagination? He’d always seemed like my friend. A bitter taste flooded his mouth with that thought, and he fought the urge to grimace. Friends are a lie. Father took great pains to teach me that.

“Sovras, I believe, is one of Phaerith’s many faces,” Kerac said patiently. He guided Valis toward his horse and hefted himself into the saddle. “He is called the God of Many Faces, because each land calls him by a different name.”

Kerac reached down to help Valis onto his horse behind him. Before Valis could protest, he sat on the mount’s rump and Kerac held onto his hands as they settled about the Paladin’s waist. Valis marveled that even with the plate gauntlets he wore, Kerac was still being deceptively gentle.

They waited for Darolen to secure Roba to the back of his own horse, and once he mounted, Valis guided them along the trail that he had crashed through only moments ago.

The moment he stepped into the monastery, it was like Valis stepped into a whole other world. Avristin was in the center of Cadoras City, and there were people everywhere. And seeing such a crowd in the vast white halls made Valis cringe against Darolen’s side. His new adopted fathers, Darolen and Kerac, were his rocks. It had taken him so long to trust them, but they had shown him, over and over again, that they were worth it.

They both proved it again as Darolen wrapped an arm about his shoulders and Kerac drew closer to Valis’s other side. Their love wrapped around him like an ethereal blanket, and Valis felt himself relax, even if only a little. Even after months of traveling from the farmstead where Valis had spent his entire life with his abusive and murderous father, toiling the land and praying that day’s beatings wouldn’t break bone, Valis still couldn’t believe his fortune. Those months spent with his new fathers were the brightest spots in his life, and he wondered if that would come crashing down around his ears as everything else had in his life until his fathers had saved him.

That thought solidified as one man with short black hair stared hard at him from a group of youths on the periphery of another throng of people. Everyone they passed stared while trying to act and appear as if they weren’t gawping at them. That black haired boy, though, made something in Valis shiver. The intensity of his gaze, the confident way he stood and his presence drew Valis in like he’d never experienced before. But the connection he felt with that man broke as Darolen and Kerac ushered him past that group of people, and the loss of it hit Valis like a bucking horse. Right in the chest.

The image of that man’s face haunted Valis’s thoughts. It continued until they reached what Valis learned was Darolen and Kerac’s shared suite, and so did the gawping of everyone they passed. Valis’s spent the next hour in Avristin taking a long, luxurious, hot bath where Valis daydreamed of that man, a nap where he dreamed of him, and then a short tour of the monastery’s upper floors where Valis kept hoping he would see him again. He didn’t get his wish, and Valis wondered if he ever would again. But at least his fathers kept his mind occupied with the tour.

The monastery sat just beyond the small village at the front of the city that he, Kerac, and Darolen had passed through to get to the monastery’s gates. Looking at it from the high windows showed just how vast the city was, and it both thrilled and terrified him. Kerac went on about how there were several villages within the city’s vast defensive walls, but he mostly went on about the interior of the monastery, itself due to Valis’s excited questions. Avristin dominated the area with tall towers and vast wings. The central tower stood tallest and glittered with a domed crystal ceiling.

Inside, Valis followed Kerac and Darolen around like an inquisitive and adoring kitten. The press of people made his stomach roll, but as long as he kept his fathers in his sights, tucked mostly between them, he felt a little better. The anxiety threatened to consume him, but everyone they passed seemed pleasant after the initial shock of their presence. Some were even nice. He tried to turn his attention fully on the grand monastery, the white halls, rich tapestries that hung in some areas. But that anxiety put a damper on the gorgeous surroundings. While everything was simply made and spartan in most areas, it all held such stark beauty that it soon became almost as overwhelming as the press of so many people.

“Stop gawking, lad.” Darolen laughed and nudged Valis’s shoulder. “You will have free rein to ogle everything soon enough. First, we fill our bellies, then we need to take you to Brother Bachris for residency protocol. Get you your own room and such.”

Still stunned at the beauty and the people, Valis only nodded and stared at the groups they passed. He couldn’t help it. While his stomach crawled with anxiety, he still was so curious that his eyes went from one pack of people to the next, though if he were truthful with himself, he was again looking for that black haired man.

Some of the people in the tight groups wore the white garb with gold and blue trim like Brother Cazho had at the garrison. It shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. Others wore plate or chain armor. A few wore simpler cotton or wool shirts and pants, akin to what Valis wore. The diversity in styles of each kind of clothing had him nearly dizzy with the colors, textures and gilding. With their jewels and precious metals, some seemed more important than others, while some just looked to be flaunting their riches.

He leaned in against Kerac and whispered, not daring to speak aloud lest he draw unwanted attention to himself, “Why are so many gilded?”

Kerac glanced around with a confused frown and cocked his head, then chuckled. “Some of the residents here come from very wealthy families. If they become Aesriphos, they often donate their inherited wealth to the monastery. After several generations of such donations… well, they had to do something with the gold and jewels. We are self-sufficient here with farms and ranches within the walls. Few things must be bought or traded, and what little need there is, most of it gets donated from families outside the city.”

“So everyone is gilded?” Valis asked. “Truly?”

Kerac grinned at him, but shook his head. “Aesriphos are decorated or gilded in line with our status as Holy Warriors and decorated differently depending on rank. Those you see wearing decorated armor, are either in ceremonial use, or they need to distinguish their ranks for one reason or other. Warriors of the Fold who are not magically inclined are not as gilded. They have blue enameling on their breastplates with Phaerith’s symbol.”

“And the others?” Valis asked, gesturing toward a man wearing stylish leathers with gold and silver accents, an ornate sword strapped to his hip that looked to be more for show than actual use.

“He is a visiting dignitary, from what I can tell,” Kerac mused. “We get them from time to time. Generally, they come to gain some peace in their lives, to pay their respects to Phaerith, visit family members or what have you. With the blizzard, they may be stuck here until the storm passes and the roads are cleared.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” Still, it didn’t stop him from looking while trying to use his fathers as human shields so no one would notice him gawking.

After a long walk down a series of corridors, they entered a large dining hall strewn with strategically placed tables and sturdy chairs. Delicious scents assaulted him. Everything smelled so good, but at the same time his stomach seemed to shrink in on itself as he noticed the hall was packed with people. He did his best not to focus on the crowd, but noticed that there were at least a few people here with blond hair and blue eyes like Valis had. Feeling a little less out of place, he turned back to the serving line and took a long look at the smorgasbord. Along one whole wall ran a buffet with the serving line on one side, and cooks preparing and setting out food on the other from the kitchens behind them. The robust scents of seasoned food and fresh baked bread had Valis’s mouth watering and his stomach squealing in loud pleas. Apparently the shrinking feeling was a lie, and his stomach was telling him to feed it, regardless of how he felt emotionally.

Darolen chuckled and patted Valis’s belly, completely ignorant to his stomach’s conflicted feelings. “Settle down, you. We’ll get you fed.”

“Not soon enough.” Valis groaned and rubbed his angry stomach. If only it would choose between ravenous and nervous. “We skipped breakfast, and I was too cold to find snacks.”

“You will live,” Kerac said. “Grab a plate and fill it. Remember, though, that you can always come back for more, but you can’t put back what you can’t eat. Start out slow and eat light. You aren’t used to rich foods anymore.”

As Kerac ushered him toward the serving line, Valis cast another nervous glance over the dining hall. Nearly every table was full to capacity. From what he saw, none of them had three seats available at a single table. The sheer amount of people… Valis had never seen so many before in his life. The hired farm hands were maybe twelve heads at most, and Valis had never been around them all at the same time, as they were always spread out along the fields. He shuddered and turned around to grab a plate, swallowing down his anxiety. If I could nap alone in the garrison, I can eat with strangers here. This is… home.

He sighed with that thought as he filled his plate. Just as he neared the end of the line, a male called out, “Hey Sunshine, come sit with us when you’re done loading your plate!”

Sunshine? Valis fought the urge to jump. Mostly succeeded. Looked behind him to see a collection of four boys and two girls sat at a table, all staring directly at him. One boy with long black hair akin to Kerac’s, but with gray eyes, smacked a larger male on the arm and frowned. “At least pretend you have some tact, Jedai.” He turned his attention back to Valis and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, Brother. The offer is real, no matter how badly given.”

The last, he said with a pointed glare at Jedai. What did they want? All his life, Valis had known that kindness and generosity and offers of friendship came at a price. True… Kerac and Darolen had proved that false, but it couldn’t be that way with everyone. His family and a few of the meaner farm hands had proven that to him time and again. He couldn’t keep thinking that way. Not if he wanted to stay sane. He blushed, ducked his head, and Valis turned back around to finish filling his plate, intent on ignoring them. But Darolen bumped him with his arm. “I think you should.”

“Should what?” Valis mumbled without taking his gaze from his plate.

“Go,” he chuckled, “make some friends. They seem like a fun group.”

“I—”

“Darolen and I need to eat swiftly,” Kerac said, cutting off his objection. “We have duties to tend before we take you to Brother Bachris. They will do well to keep you entertained while we are away.”

“But—”

“Do you want to live here with Kerac and I as your only friends?” Darolen asked. “You have to start somewhere. We aren’t telling you to lick them, Son, just sit and talk with them.”

“But—”

“Valis…” Kerac gave him a stern, but pleading look with his mouth set in a thin line, and bright, hopeful eyes. Valis knew that look. That look meant Valis would cave with his next sentence, and he knew it. “Darolen and I will have many duties here that will keep us away from you for possibly days at a time. I don’t want you to be lonely during our absences. Please. For us.”

He let out a defeated sigh as Kerac kept giving him that look. Valis had to drop his gaze before it melted him completely. Even his anxiety couldn’t handle that look, not with the way Kerac rarely asked him to do anything he didn’t want to do, anyway. Best he just treat this like another duty. Still… he didn’t want to. But, maybe they were kind, like Darolen and Kerac. Maybe they could become his friends. With a soft groan, he went back to loading his plate, stuffed two soft rolls on top of the mountain of food and drooped his shoulders. “Fine, but that was a low blow.”

Kerac snickered and kissed his temple. “An Aesriphos uses every tool in his arsenal to get the job done. And since you agreed, you are bound to your promise.”

Something tugged at Valis’s ponytail, and he whirled around, nearly sending his food to the floor. The polite one from the table caught and steadied his tray and plate with a laugh. “No stalling, Goldenrod. What would you like to drink? There is tea, fruit juice, milk, and cider.”

“I—Uhm.” He cleared his throat to keep it from squeaking, and to try to tamp down the intense blush that threatened to scald his face. “Milk, please.”

“I’m Aryn,” he said, laughter making his gray eyes twinkle. “Head on over, and I’ll be there with your milk. Spiced, or plain?”

“Spiced?”

The boy grinned and dipped his head. “Cinnamon, nutmeg, vanilla, and ginger, warmed.”

Valis’s stomach gurgled, and his blush deepened. “Spiced, please.”

Still with that grin, Aryn dipped his head in a half-bow and turned toward the drink line. Caught between the urge to stare at Aryn’s back and the need to get his feet moving, Valis swallowed hard and slowly turned. The entire table still looked at him, most with laughter in their eyes. Laughing at me already… But one man in particular caught his attention. When he had his back turned to Valis, he hadn’t recognized him. Now, though, Valis’s cheeks heated as the black haired man from earlier stared at him with mild curiosity.

Regretting his promise, Valis made his way over and took the seat one of the girls indicated, which coincidentally resided right between that black haired man and where Aryn had been sitting. Then, as he forced himself not to look at anyone—especially the black haired man next to him, who sat so close Valis could feel the heat his body radiated—he realized something as he settled his plate down. Great. How am I supposed to eat without⁠—

“You must be starving, Goldenrod,” Aryn said from behind him. He set silverware next to Valis’s plate, wrapped in a cloth napkin. “You forgot your utensils.” He set a large mug of spiced milk in front of him as he sat down and smiled. “Go ahead and eat. We’ll save the chatter until your stomach quits screaming.”

Nodding, Valis unwrapped his napkin and laid it across his lap as he would back at his farmstead, and resisted the urge to twist it and fiddle until his hands bled just to keep his outward composure in check. As he picked up his spoon, he glanced at Aryn. He needed to say something. He knew he did. What was it? …Oh. Manners. He ducked his head, wiped his sweaty palms on his napkin, and sighed before murmuring, “Thank you. Though, why do you call me Goldenrod?”

The raven haired boy grinned and reached out to gently tug his ponytail again. It took every ounce of Valis’s self-control not to flinch away. These people aren’t my family. Every touch doesn’t instantly mean an attack. If only his nerves believed that. His stomach kept pitting like it always did before he was about to get into trouble. But what could happen to him in a monastery? With a force of will, he shoved that feeling down so he could pay attention to Aryn, who was currently talking to him. “Your golden hair… and the fact that we don’t know your name yet. Calling you Sunshine was a bit emasculating.”

If he could get redder, his face would burst aflame. Rubbing the back of his neck, Valis huffed a nervous laugh. “I’m Valis Bakor.”

Aryn smiled and nodded, then motioned around the table. “As I said, I’m Aryn. Next to me is Jedai, whom you’ve already had the displeasure of hearing speak. To his right is Aenali, Jedai’s unfortunate sister. To her right is Seza, and her brother Maphias. On the other side of you, is Tavros.”

Valis nodded to each in turn. “A pleasure to meet you all.”

Tavros snorted and leveled a hard stare at him. “Gods, kid. We have to get you to knock that off.”

The tone made him flinch. It didn’t quite sound like Roba, but it was close enough to hit him in the soft spot of his memories. He sat back and frowned at the boy, anger flaring in his gut, even as that strange feeling made his cheeks flame hotter. “Knock… what off?”

“Tavros.” That one stern word from Aryn had the boy cowed and muttering. Aryn cleared his throat and squeezed Valis’s shoulder. “Unfortunately, Tavros is my older brother. He has a small valid point though.”

“Which is?” Valis tried to keep the defensive growl from his voice, but failed. What were they on about? How could Valis get away if they all turned on him? Tavros didn’t seem as welcoming as the others, and he tried not to think about how much that hurt. Would they take his side instead of Valis’? Even if he was being obnoxious? They seemed to have put Jedai in his place, but Tavros looked to be the eldest of the bunch, and that automatically put him in the “danger” category.

Aryn only smiled at him. “Shyness. While endearing in some respects, it can lead to unnecessary tension… such as that growl of yours.”

The pretty brunette with braids coiled about her head cleared her throat. If Valis remembered right, her name was Seza. She looked to be almost Tavros’s age, but seemed kinder. A strange and mystifying mix of warrior and mother. It both calmed Valis in a way he couldn’t explain and made him feel a little awkward. She narrowed her eyes at Tavros, then pointed a blunt finger with the nail clipped absurdly short at Tavros’s chest. “Talking about it isn’t going to get him to open up and quit blushing, brutes. Aryn,” she leveled that finger at Aryn’s chest, which made the boy flinch, “you’re not his mother. Tavros,” she shot him another fierce glare, “behave. Valis,” she pointed to his plate and grinned, “eat before your stomach tries to devour us.”

Taking that as pointed permission to ignore everyone and focus on his food, Valis did just that. He got halfway through his plate before Aenali started bouncing in her seat and making whimpering noises.

“Can I ask questions now?” she whined. When Valis glanced at her, it became clear that she was the youngest of the bunch and probably sitting on something so she could reach the table. “Please?”

Her exuberance and cherub face made Valis laugh, easing some of the tension that coiled within him, and he set his spoon aside. “Only if you can somehow get more adorable.”

She gasped at that, and must have taken it as a challenge. With the brightest grin, she beamed at him with the force and light of the sun and fluttered her long, dark lashes at him. The whole picture, with her chubby pink cheeks, clasped hands, and doe eyes made him melt. He covered his face and shook his head. “Not a one of you warned me. …Go ahead.”

“YAY!” she squealed. “Where are you from? I like your accent!”

“Eight countries to the west, called Evakis. I lived in the township of Vau Taun.”

“How long have you spoken Arlvorian?” Seza asked. “You speak it like a native, minus the accent.”

“Eight months or so of traveling with my fathers.” He took a bite of his food and shrugged to give himself time to chew and swallow. “They taught me along the way here. Constant conversation helped.”

Jedai grinned and leaned over the table. “Teach us some Evaki curses!”

“Jedai!” Aryn cried, sounding scandalized. “You would ask such a thing.”

Valis blinked, gritting his teeth. Curses? His blood boiled. The only curses he could think of were the ones his father had cast on unfortunate souls who had crossed him. Other than that, Valis’s entire life up until he met his true fathers was a very long, painful curse that he would rather forget. Under the table, his hands trembled. He clenched them into fists, but managed to stay quiet.

His bewilderment—obviously not his anger—must have shown on his face, because Maphias laughed. “He means things like bitch and whore… things that aren’t said in polite company.”

His confusion grew, the anger and resentment bleeding away. What did they mean? Unable to parse that, he cocked his head and stared. “How can those be impolite? It’s what they are.”

Everyone at the table went quiet and stared at him. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Seza took a deep breath. “Okay. That backfired.”

“I don’t understand,” Valis murmured. “A female dog is a bitch. A woman or man who sells their sex is a whore.” A memory made him screw his nose up and chuckle. “…Though, there is a story behind that one.”

“Oh, gods,” Maphias laughed, “I have to hear this!”

Squirming in his seat, Valis grinned and ducked his head. “I was still learning Arlvorian. We passed through a city somewhere in Haiana. While Darolen went to get supplies, Kerac and I walked around the city so he could expand my vocabulary by teaching me new words.

“We came across a brothel, and the whores stood outside to get customers.”

Tavros laughed. “I can almost tell where this is going.”

Valis smirked at him, finally feeling a little more at ease now that the oldest boy was smiling, a devious twinkle in his clear as sky gray eyes. That twinkle had Valis warm to his toes, and his palms sweating, but he did his best to hide it and went on with a nod. “Perhaps. Anyway. I had trouble with certain sounds as my language doesn’t really have them. So, when Kerac wrapped his arm about a whore’s shoulder, spoke her title, and asked me to repeat it, I was already blushing due to the scanty way she was dressed. Kerac repeated the word. The woman repeated the word and grinned at me, urging me on. I had worked myself into a mild panic, so I was panting. When I finally opened my mouth, I gasped, ‘Whoa…’. Every whore at that brothel, and some random people on the street cackled every time they saw me after that until we left.”

They all stared at him as he sipped his spiced milk. He couldn’t help his chuckle. “Kerac spent the next week teaching me how to pronounce the R sound.”

It dawned on Tavros first. He laughed so hard that he curled in on himself until his face met the table. Each boy fell into line as they got it. The girls, though, still sat and stared. “I don’t get it,” Aenali whined.

Aryn spoke between bouts of laughter, “You’re too young to get it.”

Seza smirked and ruffled Aenali’s hair. “I don’t get it either. You boys must think alike.”

“Instead of calling her a whore, as they were telling me to,” Valis explained, “I couldn’t pronounce the R sound, so it sounded as if I saw her state of near undress and exclaimed, ‘Whoa!’ like a suddenly aroused client.”

Deadpan, Seza shook her head. “I don’t know if that’s disgusting or adorable…”

Aryn patted Valis’s shoulder to take the sting out of his words, still breathless from cackling. “Both!”

“What about insults?” Jedai asked. “Surely you can tell us some!”

“No,” Valis growled. The sudden souring of his mood made his stomach clench. Jedai actually recoiled back in his chair from the unintentional vehemence in Valis’s voice. “Almost every insult known in my language was used on me, my mother, or both of us by my father.” He spat the title, not knowing what else to call him. “I won’t teach you that filth.”

“I like him,” Seza murmured, her eyes wide. “He’s fierce, but I like him.”

“Calm yourself, Brother,” Aryn soothed. “He’ll drop the subject now. Won’t you, Jedai?”

For as big and stout as he seemed, Jedai huddled in his seat like a mouse hiding from a predator. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, man.”

He stared at Jedai for almost half a minute before nodding his acceptance. He went back to his half-empty plate and tried to choke down more of his food. Just as he took a large sip of his spiced milk, Aenali bounced in her seat again. “I know some Evaki! Ishtan kegkt fezegundfekt!”

Valis clapped a hand over his mouth. The snort caught him off guard, spiced milk burning as it sprayed from his nose onto his mostly empty plate. When he finally managed to swallow what little remained in his mouth, he laughed and started wiping up his mess. “You just said, ‘I wish to be your castrated bull.’ What I think you intended to say, was Ishtan kegkt fhavengekt, which means ‘I wish to be your friend’.”

“I was close.” She giggled and shifted in her seat so she could reach the table better. “It sounds prettier coming from you, though.”

He gave her what he hoped was a kind smile. “You were trying too hard not to swallow your tongue. I can coach you if you’d like.”

“I’d like that,” she squealed. Then she settled down and gave him a sheepish grin. “You seem like you’d be more fun than my preceptor.”

“Oh, I can try.” He ate a few more bites of his soggy food as he thought and shook his head. “You have to teach me something in return, though.”

She blinked those doe eyes at him and tilted her head. “Like what? I don’t think I could teach you anything you don’t already know.”

This was getting into vastly unfamiliar territory. Asking for things always got him in trouble before, even if it was as simple as asking to relieve himself if his father had him devoted to a certain time-sensitive task. But how much trouble could he get in asking a child for a return favor? Valis squirmed in his seat and poked at the remainder of his food, determined to put his past behind him one problem at a time. “I know how to read and write Evaki… not Arlvorian. I would like for you to teach me.”

“You want a child to teach you?” Jedai scoffed.

And there it was. Trouble. Just not the way Valis had imagined. Setting his jaw, Valis glared at him. “Is there a problem with that? Would you, perhaps, remember your youth lessons well enough to teach them to another? As far as I am concerned, she would be the perfect teacher, because at her age, she would remember how she was taught more clearly than an adult, and be more patient and less condescending.”

“Jedai, shut up.” Seza sighed and leveled a hard but bored gaze on the boy. “He has a larger vocabulary than you.”

Aenali just grinned, ignoring everyone except Valis. “I still have my old grammar books and lesson sheets! I can copy them onto fresh paper while you learn the basic stuff, so that you can have them when you get into the harder stuff! And the games! I think I still have the flash cards Mama made for me. Oh, Papa was so angry that she ‘wasted’ so much parchment.” She sighed, which Valis knew was the first breath she’d taken in that whole spiel, and grinned. “We’ll start in a few days, though. You look tired, Valis. Not sleepy, but… what’s the word?”

“Weary,” Aryn murmured. “Traveling for nearly a year will do that to a person, I’d imagine.”

“Weary.” Valis sighed and wrinkled his nose. His stomach clenched. Hard enough to make his food rise back up his throat. It forced him to swallow repeatedly to keep it down. The bottom dropped from his gut so fast that it felt like the whole world spun on a tilting axis for a split second. A shiver wound its way down his spine, but he tried to ignore it. He kept on with his original thought. No harm could come to him in the monastery. Kerac and Darolen had promised. “My bones are tired.” He rested his elbow on the table, leaned his cheek on his left fist and let out a tired groan. “To know that I don’t have to travel anymore, or worry about food for a while makes me want to curl in a corner and sleep through the winter.”

“I—”

“GUARDS!” Tavros shouted, cutting Aryn off. “Guards, to me!”

Startled, Valis jerked back and stared at the purple-faced man. Anger flared in his gray eyes and his lips quivered as they writhed back from his slightly crooked teeth. His stomach pitted again, harder than before. Bile coated the back of his tongue, flooded his mouth. He knew something bad was going to happen. He frantically looked around for his fathers, but couldn’t find them anywhere. Something told him to run away as fast as he could. But as he got up, his hopes to learn more about the captivating black haired man dashed away as Tavros tackled him to the floor.

His head hit just after his shoulders did. The pain made his full belly revolt. He turned his head and gagged, but Tavros covered his mouth with a hand.

“Tavros! Have you gone mad?” Aryn yelled. “Get off him!”

“He bears the mark of Qos!” Tavros growled. “It’s behind his left ear.”

Shit. Roba’s done it again. In prison and still ruining my life. He groaned, trying to keep his food down. Thunder rolled as several pairs of boots pounded the floor toward them. Male and female guards in armor of various gilding surrounded them on all sides. Tavros explained about the mark. He manipulated Valis’s head over with the hand on his mouth and jerked down his ear to show the tattoo.

Valis bit down on that hand when it shifted. Tavros squawked and jerked it away. “It isn’t my⁠—”

The world flashed, cutting off his words. When it flashed again, Valis sagged onto a stone bench and gasped. The guards were gone. His companions were gone. Tavros was gone. He sat in a dark cell lit with only twinkling lights near the ceiling that had to be magic. Four cots lined the two longest walls.

At the back of the room, a familiar man grinned. “Even in this prison, Qos smiles upon me. My sacrificial son returns.”

“Roba! No…” Valis pressed back against the wall, his heart frozen in his chest. “No! DAROLEN!”

The squeal hurt Valis’s ears. The worst thing was, it came from his own lungs as Tavros’s mage bolt hit him in the chest. He staggered back a few steps before he caught his balance and rubbed his sternum. “That was less than manly.” He groaned and let out a weak cough. “And I think I inhaled my mint pulp.”

“What happened to your shield?” Tavros asked. He frowned at him and crossed his arms. “It snapped up on instinct before, and now you actually have to think about it?”

“I’m not sure,” Valis admitted. “May we stop a moment so I can calm down?”

“Of course, kid.” He motioned to the bench at the side of the room. “Let’s go have a seat.”

As they sat, Valis closed his eyes and leaned his head on Tavros’s shoulder. His mentor chuckled as he shifted and wrapped his arm about Valis’s shoulders to hold him close. Having that arm wrapped about him was a comfort that Valis hoped he would never take for granted, not after having Tavros’s hate directed at him for so long. “What’s wrong, Valis?”

“I’ve just been thinking, and my mind keeps running in circles.” He shifted to look up at his mentor and fought back a scowl. Tavros was gorgeous, tall and well-muscled with short black hair and the clearest gray eyes Valis had ever seen, like looking at clouds through a pane of clear glass. And something about his slightly crooked teeth did strange things to Valis’s heart and gut every time he smiled. Tavros was dark and stormy, where Valis was sunshine and summer skies with blond hair, blue eyes, and a fading tan from working the farm in his old life.

He couldn’t very well tell Tavros he’d been secretly lusting after him since he’d met him, so he chose a safer topic that had been bothering him. “If Phaerith once roamed the earth as a powerful mage, and mages had magic while he lived… and our magic comes from the Gods, where did Phaerith and the other mages’ magic come from before he ascended?”

Tavros smiled and stared out into some nebulous spot in the arena, or beyond. “Our magic doesn’t come from Phaerith,” he said. “We are either born mages, or we are born laymen. Children from mages have a higher tendency to be born mages themselves, but it isn’t always the case. I’m not sure how the first mages ended up with magic, but our magic doesn’t come from the Gods. The Gods just… enhance it, from my understanding, and assist us in using it to its full extent through prayer.”

A thought had him anxious, but he didn’t know why. Tavros squeezed him again, and he tucked himself closer to his mentor with a lazy purr. Whatever unease had been between them before, Valis no longer felt it and he was glad. “So it can act on our own will without prayer?” Valis asked.

“Mm… why don’t we take a break on the lesson and go ask Thyran?” With a nod, Tavros nudged Valis and stood. “That’s a good idea. It will give you time to calm down from being hit with so much energy.”

What he meant, was that every time he hit Valis with a mage bolt, Valis seemed to absorb it more than it actually harmed him. It hurt, and his skin grew raw from the blasts, but his essence seemed to just suck it in. Even now, Valis’s heart pounded like the hooves of a racing horse. His hands trembled, but as he stood and moved, it started to calm.

As they ascended to the top of the monastery, two Aesriphos—or Paladins as Valis used to call them, holy warriors who used magic as well as swords and whose tasks were to keep the monastery where they lived safe, and to hunt for the missing god jar that housed Qos’s ashes—stopped them in the wide, curving stairway to the last level. The redhead held a cool stare, but her mouth twitched into a maternal smile. “Brothers Valis and Tavros?” she asked. When they both answered affirmative, the women flanked them. “Brother Thyran wishes to see you both. Please come with us.”

Each pressed a plate-clad hand to their lower backs and guided them up the staircase. Valis looked up to the brunette at his side. He tried to hide his worry. Why had Thyran sent for them? Were they in trouble? What had they done? “We were just on our way to see him. Do you know what he wants us for?”

She smirked and reached across to pat his sore chest. “This.”

Valis wrinkled his nose and reached into his belt pouch for a sprig of mint. When he stuffed it into his mouth, the brunette Aesriphos giggled. “Trying to impress the ladies?”

The sudden blush almost made Valis dizzy, and he shook his head. “I got addicted to chewing on mint when I was recovering from my time in prison,” he murmured. The woman frowned and laid a gentle touch on his back again as he went on. “So, when I told Firil of my addiction, he gave me a few jars of mint that weren’t infused with the anti-nausea stuff to chew when the craving strikes.”

She gave him a proud nod and lifted her hand from his back to squeeze his shoulder. “That you could admit your addiction is commendable. It was also sweet of the Master Healer to give you a safe way around it.”

Valis ducked his head and grinned. “It was. Tav’s little brother, my best friend Aryn, talked me into it. I wanted to just go without. He said it was better to be addicted to the mint instead of the pain reliever.”

“Wise friend,” she said. The redhead opened the door and ushered the other three inside. Once the brunette stood at Valis’s side again, she shaded his eyes when Valis stared at the orb of Phaerith’s light. Even though Valis knew how it affected him, knew how, if he even looked at it for a second, its comfort and the way it made him feel loved would suck him in for hours if someone didn’t intervene, he still couldn’t help his instinct to look up and stare at his God’s Light. The woman chuckled and patted his cheek with her other hand. “Stay with us, lad. You need to be present for this.”

But he didn’t want to be present. For the first eighteen years of his life, until his adopted fathers, Darolen and Kerac had found and rescued him from his sire, all Valis had ever known was pain and hate. That orb of light made Valis feel loved, cherished, wanted, and if he couldn’t have his fathers around, he wanted to bask in that light for eternity. But his heart sank. He had to adhere to duty. Maybe one of these days, he would have Tavros or one of their other friends come to let him bask. Just for a few hours.

Valis sighed with the direction his thoughts had wandered. With the Aesriphos’s hand over his eyes, Valis could only see the blue runner at his feet that ran from the entry to the back where ornate double doors hid the reliquary beyond. Valis turned his head to see that they were alone in the Hall of Communion, all the concave benches with their sapphire cushions empty. Being in here alone always made him want to study the tapestries that hung at even intervals around the circular room, but this time Valis had a set mission. He blinked rapidly and ducked his head. “Sorry.”

“No need.”

She gave him that proud smile, and he suddenly remembered her face. “You are one of the reliquary guards.”

“Yes. I am Kaltani.” She motioned to the redhead. “My partner is Netai. We often guard the reliquary on rotation.” The smile she turned on him made Valis melt. “You touched my pride when last I saw you. It is good to see the two of you have worked out your differences.”

Tavros smiled as he looked over at Valis, and just that look had Valis’s insides liquefying. “Took me long enough.”

“Length of time does not matter,” Thyran said from the reliquary. He strode out to meet them, his posture tall and regal for one so stout. Valis noticed his salt and pepper hair had grown a little longer than he usually kept it. He caught both Valis and Tavros in his piercing blue gaze, but the laugh lines around them crinkled as he smiled, making his eyes a little less fierce. “What matters is that you see the truth and correct your mistakes. I am proud of you both. Especially you, Tavros. You have come farther than I had hoped.”

He looked between Valis and Tavros with so much pride that Valis beamed at him. It wasn’t so long ago that Tavros had hated Valis. First because he found the tattooed mark of Qos—an evil God—on Valis’s neck behind his left ear on his first day in the monastery of Avristin. Then because Valis’s birth father, Roba, entered Valis’s dreams, and upon waking Valis had hurt Tavros’s little brother Aryn, when Valis thought he was strangling Roba. And then because when Thyran unlocked Valis’s magic, they found his magic was tainted.

Usually magic is either gold or black. The former is the holy color, the latter belonging only to followers of Qos. Valis, however had gold magic with black veins that looked like the splintered stalks of lightning. It had taken a while, but with the help of their friends—Tavros’s baby brother Aryn, Maphias and his sister Seza, Jedai and his little sister Aenali (who was the fiercest child Valis had ever met)—Tavros and Valis were now as close as brothers. Or, hopefully lovers, Valis thought. Someday.

“Thank you, Brother,” Tavros said. A soft smile lit his face as he squeezed Valis’s shoulder sending a wave of warmth through Valis that made blood rush to his face. The heat traveled down his neck to end somewhere past his nipples. The roaring of his blood in his ears almost drowned out Tavros’s voice as he said, “After our last meeting, that means much.”

With a gentle push, the Aesriphos urged them into the reliquary and closed the door behind them. Valis headed for Thyran’s side and smiled up at him. Tavros came to stand behind Valis. When Thyran turned toward them, he looked between their two faces and sighed. “Last I saw you—which was not that long, mind—you were only up to my chin, Valis.” He smirked and shook his head. “I need to find a heavy rock to tie to your head.”

Valis blushed as Tavros laughed. “Growth spurt. I’m not the least surprised with the way the kid eats.”

“Indeed,” Thyran mused. “At least he is growing instead of remaining stagnant. It will prove necessary in the months to come. I had worried that unlocking his power would stunt him for a time… or the complete opposite.”

Valis tried to tamp down the sudden paranoia that tried to claw at his mind. If his magic could stunt him or grow him, what else could it do? No, I won’t fall into that trap. Just be glad Thyran is pleased with the results. And what would happen in the months to come? Why would growing be necessary? He looked up at Tavros and blushed again, hoping Tavros didn’t notice. At least if I grow, Tavros won’t see me as a kid anymore.

Thyran smirked at him then and nodded as if he heard every word of Valis’s thoughts. That scared him more than the thought of growing unnaturally. He tucked against Tavros’s side, making his mentor give him a quizzical look.

“You okay, kid?”

To lie, or to tell the truth? “I just had a bad thought… I’m fine now.”

That smirk turned into a soft paternal smile as Thyran patted Valis’s chest. “No bad thoughts, Valis. They have no place here.”

“What did you want to see us for?” Tavros asked.

“Lift your tunic, Valis,” Thyran requested. “That may give us some answers.”

Valis frowned but shucked his tunic and draped it over his right arm. When he looked down at his chest, he cringed. The head-sized area where Tavros’s mage bolts hit him looked raw and swollen. It appeared more painful than it felt, which worried him. He looked up at Thyran and was about to speak when the historian pressed his warm hand to the raw wound.

Thyran closed his eyes. After a moment, the wound grew uncomfortably warm and Valis looked down to find Thyran’s hand glowing.

“What are you doing?” Valis asked. Panic built in his chest. Pain flared for an instant, and he tried to jerk away, but it was as if his chest were cemented to Thyran’s palm. “What⁠—”

“Calm, Valis,” Thyran murmured. “I am not harming you.”

Valis knew that was true. He felt uncomfortable, but the pain receded. Instead of focusing on the discomfort, or the glow of Thyran’s hand, Valis closed his eyes and focused on his breathing.

On his third breath, Valis felt a tug. He shuddered and reached for Tavros’s hand. When Tavros threaded their fingers together, the tug came again and Valis whimpered.

“What’s wrong?” Tavros murmured near his ear.

“I feel a tug in my chest,” he whispered. “It feels wrong.”

“I feel it as well,” Thyran murmured. “I am almost finished.”

“What are you doing to him?” Tavros demanded. The protectiveness in his voice sent a shiver through Valis. He desperately wanted to hear it again. And the way Tavros squeezed his fingers, the way he stepped closer had Valis’s heart tripping and rolling in his chest, made his breath catch. Thyran must have felt it as he smirked, but covered it with calm words.

“Nothing untoward.” Thyran stroked his free hand down Valis’s arm to where his and Tavros’s hands were linked. “Keep the connection. I need time.”

“Time to do what?” Tavros growled. He tightened his grip on Valis’s hand.

“Time to sever the link between Valis and the Sovereign Priest of Qos,” the historian said. He kept his voice soft and serene. “The power of Qos that resides in Valis comes from his sire. In essence, the Sovereign Priest believes that Valis is his sire.”

“If he believes that, why would the Sovereign Priest of Qos keep Valis from erecting his shields?”

Thyran hummed a breath. “My guess is he, or she, now knows Roba has been captured, and thought to eradicate him before he could reveal any secrets.”

With a full body shudder, Valis opened his eyes to see black veins crawling up Thyran’s wrist. “Your hand!”

“Calm, Child,” Thyran murmured. “It is not harming me. It is simply your own dual magic mingling with mine. I am almost finished.”

Tavros clutched Valis’s hand. He rubbed the back with his other as he rested his forehead against Valis’s nape. When Thyran finished, the area over Valis’s chest felt cool for a breath, then warmed to normal. He glanced down and grinned. The skin that had been swollen and raw looking, now appeared normal and unblemished.

Once Thyran stepped away and broke contact, Valis shivered and squeezed Tavros’s hand. “It’s all right now, Tav.”

His mentor let out an explosive sigh and relaxed his hand. “Since that is finished, why did my mage bolts only make Valis jittery? They should have knocked him flat, if not tossed him across the arena.”

“I had a small hand in that,” Thyran admitted. “I felt the tug of the Sovereign Priest during your practice. When Valis’s shields failed, I siphoned your mage bolts and diffused them into Valis’s system as added energy. I would have sent for you sooner, but the siphoning took all of my concentration, so I had to wait for a pause in your training session to dispatch my Aesriphos.”

Valis frowned and rubbed his chest. He tried to process that as he slipped his tunic back on. When he looked back up at Thyran, the historian gave him a solemn nod.

“I must apologize, Valis,” he said. “I have been keeping a mental connection with you since our first meeting. I wished to see how you progressed, and I have not been disappointed.” He gave an apologetic smile and bowed. “Please rest assured that I only made the connection during training, and when I felt you unknowingly quest for my presence.”

Tavros snorted, but Valis reached back and squeezed his hand, even as he blushed. “At first I thought you were Sovras. I had an idea it was you after you shaded my eyes during my visit in the Hall of Communion with Father.”

“You were correct,” Thyran said, smiling. “Now.” He clapped his hands together and kept them clasped before him. “I believe you had a question for me.”

Did it matter now? Valis smirked to himself. His curiosity nagged at him. “Where did mages’ magic come from before Sovras ascended?”

With a tilt of his head, Thyran seemed to consider that as he led Valis and Tavros out of the reliquary and to one of the concave benches in the Hall of Communion. Once they sat, he sighed. “It originated from the same place it originates now.”

“That is hardly an answer,” Tavros murmured.

“This is true,” Thyran agreed. “Truth be told, it is akin to a deformity. It can be inherited, but not every child will inherit it. Laymen parents can have a brood full of mages. It is true that prayer can enhance our magic, but it is also just as true that you can wield magic without ever having uttered a prayer.”

“So Valis’s shield erecting on reflex isn’t necessarily Phaerith’s intervention?” Tavros asked. “It could just be a basic reflexive action?”

“Correct,” Thyran mused. “However, as Valis has had dreams of Sovras—or Phaerith as he is now called—in youth, anything is possible. I would go with reflex, personally. Though, he is getting good at erecting it consciously.”

Tavros smiled and bumped Valis’s shoulder with his own. When Valis looked over, his mentor held a fond, proud smile. “He’s advancing well. I’m quite proud.”

“As am I,” Thyran said. “And that brings me to the second reason I wished to see you.”

Valis’s stomach pitted so hard bile rose in his throat. He did his best not to shrink down into the cushion, but Tavros sat forward. “What is it, kid?”

“Something bad is going to happen,” Valis whispered.

“Oh, certainly.” Thyran sighed and crossed his legs at the knee. “However, good often cannot emerge without facing the bad.”

The bile bubbled up and Valis swallowed hard to send it back down into his stomach. He reached for the pouch at his belt and dug out a mint sprig as he whispered, “Roba…”

Thyran nodded. “It is almost time, Valis. Are you prepared?”

Valis stuffed the mint sprig into his mouth and chewed. Once the fresh flavor chased away the taste of the bile, he sighed. “I’ve been waiting for someone to say that for months. Now, I’m not so certain.”

“You don’t have to, Valis,” Tavros said. He sat forward and grasped Valis’s hands in his own. “It doesn’t have to be you.”

Touched, Valis stared into Tavros’s worried eyes and fought the almost overwhelming urge to let Tavros convince him of that. For a brief moment, he wanted, with every fiber of his being, to shirk that duty. His adopted fathers’ faces hove into his mind’s view, and he took a deep breath. His Papa, Kerac, thought he wasn’t strong, even though he attended to duty when he would rather stay home and care for Valis. Even when things seemed to be at their worst, he took his job seriously, stayed strong for Darolen, Valis’s other father. He attended to duty when things seemed black and impossible. I want to be that strong. I have to be strong. Squaring his shoulders and gritting his teeth, Valis shook his head. “I have eighteen years of misery to return to that bastard. No one will take that right from me.”

Yesterday’s feeling of lethargy from his early morning chat with Aryn stayed with Valis as he and his friends began their journey. So did the feeling of dread from Thyran’s last words before Valis, Tavros, Seza, and Zhasina retired to bed. The feeling stayed with Valis until they left Cadoras Dock and passed through the long fronds of the surrounding weeping whiptails and made it harder to ignore the tug on his soul from Cadoras that would eventually guide him home.

The tall walls of the holy city of Cadoras disappeared behind them. Even the peak of Avristin that housed the beacon vanished on the horizon before Valis felt the morning heat. He turned his eyes forward, flicked his blond hair over his shoulder, and forced himself to loosen his grip on the reins.

Tavros glanced at him and urged his mount closer, and Valis couldn’t help but rake his eyes over his mentor. Thick, shaggy, black hair cut short and wild, piercing, clear gray eyes, slightly crooked teeth, and the way his eyes always softened when he looked at him always took Valis’s breath away. “You okay, kid? Your blue eyes get any farther away, you may as well be back in the monastery.”

Valis ducked his head and blushed. “Yeah. I’m okay now. Aryn was a leech from the moment you left to get ready until I had to force him to let go so I could mount up. I don’t know what to do with him, Tav. I really don’t.” Didn’t know what to do with Aryn, or his intense feelings for the boy’s brother who stared at him from his right.

He glanced over at Zhasina with her long, tight curly hair, golden eyes, and dark skin. She contrasted nicely with Seza’s fair skin, fierce brown eyes, and shiny, straight brown hair in her customary braids that she kept coiled about her head. He studied them, how they huddled as close together as their horses would allow, thick as thieves, just so Valis wouldn’t have to meet his mentor’s eyes.

“Forget about him for now,” Tavros said, completely and blissfully unaware of the thoughts raging in Valis’s head. “We have several weeks before we have to deal with him again. Keep your focus broad and your eyes and ears sharp. We need you here, not back in Avristin.”

With Valis’s nod, Tavros smiled and urged his mount back into formation. He and Zhasina kept the lead with Valis and Seza flanking. They rode like that until around midday, then grouped together to pass out lunch rations. While they ate in the saddle, Valis turned his mind to Roba. His birth father had committed suicide, pouring his life essence and black magic into Valis before his body hollowed out into a grotesque husk. Now, his consciousness took residence in Valis’s mind, and Valis still tried to wrap his mind about that fact. He only half payed attention to the vast open meadows they rode through with the grasses tall enough to caress the bellies of their mounts, and the wall of green that signaled a forest in the far distance.

Why was his sire being so nice? Why hadn’t he spoken since yesterday when he’d laughed about Aryn’s lovesick tactics to stay as close to Valis as humanly possible? Why is Roba’s presence temporary?

Your mind is full of stupidity, Roba drawled. I could always have you doing drills.

Why don’t you teach me another language, instead? Valis offered. I only know Evaki and Arlvorian. I know you speak others.

If that is your wish…

Valis perked up in his saddle. Really?

Of course.

And with that, Valis began learning Urkorian, as they would pass through that country on their way to Lyvea. By sundown, his head swam with their conversations and Roba’s stories. He recited as much of the grammar exercises as he could while unburdening the horses and brushing them down.

He shooed Seza away from her mount. “We need to divvy up chores. Someone needs to get dinner on, someone tends the horses, another erects the tents, and the fourth erects the shield over the campsite.”

“You erect the shield, Valis,” Tavros said. He glanced up from his bundle as he unburdened his own horse and untied the two bedrolls from his saddle. Valis’s bundle held a tent, as did Zhasina’s. Seza’s held the other two bedrolls. “Yours are stronger than ours, and you need to become familiar with keeping a spell up overnight and through sleep. Let Seza finish up with the horses.”

Tavros turned to Zhasina, and she shooed him away. “I will get food cooking. You erect the tents.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

While they laughed and joked with one another, all eager to stretch their legs after their first full day in the saddle, Valis left Seza with their horses and scouted the area to judge how large the campsite should be. Once he reached what he deemed to be a suitable edge to their camp, he crouched down and pooled golden magic into his right hand.

Rather than thinking, since Roba would chastise him about it, Valis pictured a dome in his mind and pushed on his magic. He gasped as his power exploded from his hand and encased him and the camp in golden splendor. Just as he was about to go help Tavros with the tents, Roba cleared his ghostly throat in Valis’s mind.

What?

You do realize people can dig under what you just erected, yes?

Oh…

Yes, “oh,” indeed. Remedy it. You created a dome. Turn it into a sphere.

While he was grateful for Roba’s help, the tone he used drew a deep sigh from Valis. At least his abusive tendencies had mostly died soon after his body, or this would be unbearable. Would his waspish, haughty attitude ever follow? Would he ever be kind?

Either way, it wouldn’t happen today, probably not even this year, so Valis shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind. He instead forced his focus onto the task at hand and touched the side of the dome. The energy of it tingled against his fingers, a warm pulse of magic that felt familiar and steady. He pushed more power into it as he imagined the dome delving deep underground and completing the sphere. When he felt the nauseating loop in his magic, he shuddered and pulled his hand away. Thinking himself done, he went to step away, but Roba yet again cleared his ghostly throat and urged Valis back to the shield’s edge.

You did well, but you are far from finished, boy. If only he was corporeal, and not in his head, so Valis could knock the smugness out of his voice. His sire continued as if Valis was completely calm and rational. Add permanence and render it invisible so you do not draw attention to your camp. Then break the magic off from you so that it can continue without draining you throughout the night.

Invisible? He could do that? Father and Papa never made theirs invisible…

They probably do not know how. You do.

Part of him didn’t believe any of that was possible, but Roba was how much older than he was? Over four-hundred years? He knew so much more than Valis, and apparently more than any Aesriphos if what he said was possible. Trying would hurt nothing, would it? …Roba had been the enemy for so long, that it was almost impossible to trust him, but Valis found himself doing what he said, anyway. With hope rising in his chest, Valis struggled for a moment. He had pictured the dome and then imagined the full sphere. How did he imagine permanence? How did he⁠—

Stalling would get nothing done. Valis knew how to focus, how to direct his magic. Roba seemed to believe Valis could do it, so he touched the side of the shield again, put an extra zap of power to the sphere with the focused thought of permanence, and hoped that would work. Then, with a bare thought, the shield winked out of sight.

Apparently it surprised more than just himself. “You alright, kid?” Tavros called. “Your shield dropped.”

“I made it invisible,” Valis said. “It should still be up.”

His mentor jogged over, a frown marring his face. “That’s not possible, Valis. You can’t make magic invisible.”

Valis should have known better. He’d made the black magic invisible in his eyes when he read one of Roba’s books to prove he had the capability.

Ridiculous boy! Roba growled and ranted for a moment about how every Qos adherent is trained to look for golden shimmers in the distance to find Aesriphos to kill. When he stopped, he huffed. Tell him to walk ten feet behind you.

Valis relayed the message, and with a confused expression, Tavros started walking. After three feet, he bounced off the shield, fell on his ass and laughed as he rubbed his abused nose. The way his gray eyes twinkled when he laughed, almost like clear water today, made him even more handsome than usual. His black hair fell over his forehead and shaded his eyes as he turned over to right himself. “Kid… Never stop surprising me.”

“Promise,” Valis said. He grinned, forcing himself out of his stupor as he admired his mentor, and helped him back onto his feet. “Need help with the tents? The shield isn’t going anywhere.”

Tavros blushed, which caught Valis by surprise. It brought out a visceral reaction that made him supremely glad he still wore his armor. “Would you? I haven’t figured them out yet.”

“You’ve never erected a tent before?” Good, his voice didn’t crack. What would Tavros do if it had? Ugh. Get yourself together, Valis!

The blush deepened, spreading over Tavros’s entire face, and Valis ached to feel the heat of it against his fingers. “No.”

How was he supposed to get through this excursion with the way Tavros was affecting him? Everything made him want to touch, taste. It was getting ridiculous. But, he valiantly shoved those thoughts and feelings aside. Tavros needed him to be calm, and to teach him as much as he taught Valis. So, over the next hour before dinner, Valis showed Tavros how to pitch their tents. Dinner ended up amazing with Zhasina’s cooking. Then, after their dinners settled, Valis got up, and every eye turned toward him. He had to do something to get Tavros out of his head and get his own libido under control before they went to remove their armor.

“Where are you going?” Tavros asked.

“Sword forms,” Valis said. “Then physical training. Just because we’re traveling, doesn’t mean we get to laze about. I expect a sparring partner after I’m done.”

Every face fell, and in the next breath, they all stood and followed Valis out to the bare patch of grass.

You are a natural leader, Roba mused. They follow you without question, even when your suggestions do not come as orders. And it is highly amusing that they haven’t caught on to your secret little crush. Your face is rather a beacon in the night. I can almost see the red glow every time your mind turns to prurient thoughts.

If he thought Roba would be kind, Valis had been sorely mistaken. He took a deep breath. It’s common sense. They’re probably just being kind. Or at least Valis hoped so.

Time to clear his mind before he exploded. He pulled his sword free of its scabbard, surprised his hands didn’t shake with the strain of strangling his errant thoughts. As he began sword forms, however, he managed to clear his mind and let his movements flow. Just as when he traveled for Avristin, the night sky and the familiar movements calmed him and made his mind empty of everything, every thought and even Roba’s constant presence. It almost surprised him that his birth father remained silent.

Through sword forms, physicals, and into sparring with Seza, Valis’s mind remained blank. His focus remained only on what his muscles were doing and anticipating their next flex and release. It only broke when Seza made a shot for his face, and Valis caught her hand.

“No face shots,” he said. He pitched his voice to carry to the others. “No injuries, accident or not. We have no healer with us, and we can’t afford to be weak while we’re in the open.”

“Sorry,” she murmured. Then she huffed a laugh and rested her plated fists on her hips. “Damn, Valis. You turned into another person entirely. What’s wrong?”

He turned a smile on her, his sister in spirit, if not in blood, and shook his head. “I’ve traveled before, Seza. This is familiar for me, more familiar and comfortable than Avristin. We’re in the open, exposed and if we aren’t vigilant, we’re vulnerable. I’m just trying to make sure we stay safe.”

“He is wise in this,” Zhasina said. She’d pulled her tight black curls into a loose braid for the sparring. With the darkness, all Valis could see clearly of her due to her ebony skin, other than her armor, were the whites of her eyes and snippets of her glistening teeth. It almost made her appear ghostly, like an animated suit of armor with only a mouth and eyes, and a dim golden halo around her from the fire behind her and on the other side of the tents. It made Valis shiver, but he listened to her as she sheathed her sword and motioned to Valis.

“You should listen to him. Even I haven’t traveled like this,” she said. She stepped closer to him and Seza with Tavros close behind her. “I cannot count being chased, as I never had time to make camp. I shielded myself and my horse and slept beneath Zorar with an extra shield present to make sure I didn’t have an unexpected warm shower. I am learning just as much as the both of you, and Valis is our best teacher.”

Valis sighed as he leaned against the door, thudding his forehead against the wood. He couldn’t hide in his room any longer. He had already bathed and needed to see the Patron Priest before he did much else. With that in mind, Valis stepped away, opened the door and balked. Outside stood the two assholes who had threatened him earlier. He could still hear the blond one’s gravelly voice say, “Watch where you are going, you evil brat,” as he knocked his shoulder into Valis’, nearly knocking him into his mate, Tavros. Seeing them both now made Valis’s stomach curdle.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?” Valis stressed the last word hoping they would get the hint and remain civil.

The one on the right glowered at him with hard brown eyes, his shaggy brown hair hanging in waves to either side of his face. His partner tucked his shoulder-length blond hair behind an ear as if he couldn’t stand having it near his eyes. He seemed the more menacing. When he scowled, his classically handsome face transformed. The long scar that bisected his eyebrow and ran across the bridge of his nose pinched and made him seem almost evil. His green eyes pinned Valis in place with a threatening stare. Neither spoke.

“Guess not. Please excuse me.” The moment Valis stepped into the hall and tried to get past them, the two men caught him and thrust him back inside so fast he stumbled and fell onto his ass. Valis pushed through the sudden spike of fear and shoved himself to his feet.

Before he could defend himself, both men rushed him. The pair glared at him with so much hate that Valis instinctively shrank back as though he were still that boy back on the farm in Evakis. They slammed him against the far wall. Their hands tightened like iron bands, one around his throat, others pinning his arms. The blond ground the heel of his hand against Valis’s sternum, making it hard to breathe as pain bloomed from an impending bruise.

“You,” the brown-haired man pressed his face in close, his voice little more than a feral growl, “do not belong here.”

Valis grunted, trying not to wince at the pain. “How do you figure?”

“Black magic.” Their lips writhed back from their teeth almost in unison, but the dark-haired one continued, seemingly the mouthpiece of the pair. “You foul this place, make a mockery of our Order.” He sneered, his eyes narrowing as he tightened his grip on Valis’s throat until the blood started to pound in Valis’s head. “That you roam our sacred halls free⁠—”

Valis had enough. He tugged on his gold magic, and with a push of his will, both men flew across the room as Valis’s shield snapped in place with a mild concussive force. Enough to get them away, but not enough to seriously injure them.

“Do you doubt your superiors now?” Valis stepped away from the wall. He resisted the urge to rub his sore throat as he stared the two Aesriphos down. “Notice my golden shield. Yes, I was plagued with black magic, forced upon me by my sire when I was an infant. That is not my fault.”

Something in Valis withered as he watched both Aesriphos scramble away and rush to their feet as if Valis was about to kill them. Still, he didn’t back down. That wasn’t an option. Bone tired from his journey, Valis couldn’t find any patience for dramatics. “I don’t know who you are, or why you hate me. But if you think you’re going to intimidate me, you need to try harder. You’re nothing compared to the master that was my father.”

“You—”

“Are an Aesriphos Valiant,” Valis said, staring pointedly at the blond. “Appointed so by the Sovereign Priest, herself, who is very aware of who and what I am, and what magic I wield. Get over yourselves, and get out.”

Neither man went for the door, almost as if they were rooted in place. And then Valis saw why. Both men stared at him with a mixture of fear and horror, as if Valis were some monster they had no idea how to slay. Valis took two steps forward, and the spell broke. The dark-haired Aesriphos snarled and jerked his mate out of the room.

Valis sagged as the door to his room slammed shut. With a thought, he drew his shield back into himself and rubbed his sore throat. How bad did they hurt him?

He dragged himself into his lavatory and stared into the mirror, grimacing at the angry red marks around his neck and drew on his magic to start the healing. The last thing he needed was for Tavros to see them, especially when the red marks turned into finger-shaped bruises. His mate would be furious, and might be driven to do something stupid.

After he healed the marks on his neck, arms and chest, Valis washed his face and neck, took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves and forced his hands to stop shaking. Damn it, he was an Aesriphos Valiant. He had taken down an entire army of Qos adherents. Two Aesriphos bullies were not going to ruin what he had built for himself.

The journey back from Lyvea still hung heavy in his mind. At first, it felt so good to be home again. Now, he exited the lavatory and stood in the center of his room to look around and familiarize himself with his own space again after having been gone so long. Anything to get his mind off those two and into the right mindset to deal with the rest of his duties.

Valis sighed as he leaned against the lavatory door and thudded his forehead against the wood. His bed was just as he’d left it the day he, Tavros, Seza and Zhasina left to rescue the caravan. The comforter Seza and Aenali had made for him still looked pristine, the god silhouette picked out in the ten different colors—one for each body part—vibrant against the white background. The Evaki translation of his father’s song shined in golden embroidery along the bottom edge against a dusk-blue background.

He had missed this. His room. His things. Knowing he would sleep that night in a bed instead of on the hard, uneven ground on a thin bedroll.

Standing idle wasn’t getting him anywhere. Tavros would be with him soon. Aryn was supposed to return for a heart-to-heart. Valis’s indecision plagued him, and he fought with himself about what to do.

His decision was made for him when someone knocked at his door. When Valis opened it, he almost groaned. Aryn stood there with a hopeful grin on his face. His fingers betrayed his nerves as he played with the ends of his hair. In a sudden rush, he bounded through the door and launched himself at Valis, wrapping himself around him so tightly Valis’s breath wheezed out of him. He hugged the boy on instinct, half-dragging him to the sitting area. When he sat down, it didn’t surprise him that Aryn claimed his lap.

After being gone for several months, it amazed Valis to see Aryn had only grown about an inch. But it felt like the boy had lost weight instead of gaining it. Had he been so engrossed in scrying after Valis that he had neglected his basic needs?

“I missed you!” Aryn said. The wide, starry eyes Aryn turned on him warmed Valis, but also made him uncomfortable. Especially with the way Aryn bounced on his lap, practically vibrating, his bright grin never dimming.

“I missed you, too.” He squeezed the boy and shifted him to sit more comfortably on his lap and to still his bouncing. He ran his fingers through Aryn’s long black hair and stared into his dark gray eyes. Aryn still had a boyish face, rounded and soft, where Valis had taken on the harder, lean angles of adulthood. He had to get his mind off these changes in his best friend at all cost. It felt like he was leaving Aryn behind. “Have you spoken to Brother Bachris?”

Aryn nodded. “He’ll be here in a few moments. He had some paperwork to finish.”

Valis nodded and drew in a deep breath, hoping it would give him courage. He didn’t want to upset Aryn, but he and Tavros had to go through this if they wanted to be together. He had to do the right thing. “Aryn, I have to talk to you about something important.”

Aryn’s eyes darkened and he looked up at Valis through his lashes. “What about?”

How was he supposed to break this news to Aryn without breaking him? Sighing, Valis rubbed the corners of his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “I can’t agree to court you.”

“What? Why?”

Valis shifted in his seat and frowned. “I never loved you that way. I’ve always thought of you as my brother, as my best friend. I have thought about it during the entire journey.” He stared into Aryn’s eyes, gut churning. “There’s no easy way to tell you this…I’m in love with Tavros.”

Aryn blinked. “What?”

“I’m sorry. There’s no easy way to say it,” Valis murmured. “Tav and I have started courting.”

“No…” Aryn scrambled off Valis’s lap and started backing away toward the door.

“Aryn—”

“NO!” Aryn turned and darted for the door, slamming it on his way out.

Valis flinched and cringed away from the loud bang. Hands clenched down in his lap, he took a deep breath and tried to let it go. Breathing hurt, as if his lungs had seized, as if someone had just kicked him in his chest. He dug his nails into the skin of his palms just for something to focus on other than his shredded heart.

Brother Bachris walked in, took one look at Valis and gasped. He struggled to close the door behind him. The heavy wooden panel hung crookedly on its hinges and he had to shoulder it back into place before he could give Valis his full attention. “What happened?”

Valis answered him through gritted teeth as he struggled to calm himself. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

Brother Bachris lifted a brow at him, but thankfully let it go. He shook himself as if to shake off his questions, took a breath to steady himself, and smirked at Valis as if he had secrets to tell. “I hear tell that not only did you do well in your quest to retrieve Zhasina’s caravan, but you also led the expedition, and brought back with you two Priests of Qos and even a High Priest, plus an entire army that you captured on your own! You have been busy, young man.”

The stately priest hadn’t changed a bit since Valis left. He still had those white curls at his temples that gave a stark contrast to the rest of his chestnut hair and made him look distinguished. He still had a tall, rail thin, bony body, a sweet smile, and kind blue eyes. The best thing was, he still made Valis feel completely at home every time he entered the room.

As one of Avristin’s Patron Priests, he had many duties, but he always seemed to have time and a smile for Valis, and Valis felt he had found a friend in the paternal man even though their meetings were few and far between.

He squeezed Valis’s shoulder as he passed and settled into the chair nearest him with a soft grunt. “The rumors are already flying throughout the monastery of your prowess and leadership skills. I am quite impressed.” He leveled a proud smile upon Valis.

A warm tingle started in Valis and banished his pain and confusion. “Thanks. That means much. But⁠—”

“The information about the Qos adherents you captured came straight from the leader of the mercenary band you brought back with you,” Brother Bachris said with a wink, as if purposely derailing Valis’s objections. “I doubt one who does not know you well would say things just to make you look good. He appeared to be quite surprised to hear you are only nineteen, and said that you commanded the caravan, and even his men, as if you had been leading military forces for decades.”

At the mention of his age, Valis groaned, causing Brother Bachris to lapse into amused silence. “I’m… uh…” Valis cleared his throat and straightened in his seat. “The day Roba entered my mind, my birth anniversary, he told me I’m not actually nineteen, sir. He said I’m twenty-one. I had no idea, and according to Roba, Father misread the documents from my homestead.”

Brother Bachris frowned but waved a hand to dismiss the subject. “I will make note of it and alert Firil. I understand you had no control over this, Valis. Relax, and worry not.” He sighed and combed his fingers through his hair. “I am not angry with you, but perhaps I should read over your documents instead of Brother Tavros or Sister Seza.”

A little bubble of excitement rose in Valis. “I can get them for you now, if you’d like.”

“Yes. That would be good, thank you. And since you are a Valiant now, have you given thought to a possible mate?”

Valis ducked his head with a grin and jogged to his desk, unable, and unwilling to disguise the love that seeped into his voice. “I started courting Tavros on our way back from Lyvea.”

“Splendid! Does this feel like a true pairing?”

Valis wrenched his chest lid up and pressed the corner in the false top to get it to pop out. “I do, sir. It grows daily, and sometimes leaves me… breathless.”

“Have you given a thought to when you wish to be bonded?”

The lid slammed down on his fingers as Valis tipped it up to close the chest, documents in hand, and he let out a string of curses under his breath. When he finished locking it up, he shoved it back under his rack of pants and tucked his bruised hand to his chest. “Not really, sir. Things have been rather harrowing of late, and we didn’t have much time to think on such things.”

“You should discuss this with Tavros sooner rather than later,” Brother Bachris said as Valis closed the door to his closet. “Being named Valiant before you are bound in Ezhav is not only highly irregular, but something that has never been done before, and it gives other potentials false hope.” He gave Valis a rueful smile and squeezed his uninjured hand as Valis handed over the documents. “I hate to put such pressure on you, lad, but this is important to the sanctity of the Order.”

Stomach in knots, Valis nodded. “I understand, sir. I’ll discuss it with him tonight.”

“Good.” Then, Brother Bachris hummed to himself as he gave the documents a brief scan. He mumbled to himself, “It is almost as if these are written in some kind of code…”

It is, Roba said in Valis’s mind.

Valis jerked as he went to seat himself to Brother Bachris’s right. “Roba says it is.”

He expected the Patron Priest to question him about Roba, but he only perked a brow and asked, “Does he have a key to deciphering the code, or must I break it myself?”

Roba mused quietly for a moment before he murmured, Oh, fine. It is actually quite simple. So simple few ever realize it.

Valis sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Before he left to retrieve the caravan several months ago, on Valis’s birth anniversary, his birth father, Roba had committed suicide by shoving all his consciousness, power, and life force into Valis. It made Valis not only more powerful, but also effectively made him a High Priest of Qos based on that power. Now, with Roba in his mind, it was almost impossible to get a quiet moment unless Roba didn’t want to tell him something or was playing games. Please just tell me.

Hold the paper upside down, and hold it before a flame, Roba said. The resulting text can only be read by someone who speaks Arnathian. It works only for the first side of each page, but the resulting Arnathian text reveals more than the Evaki.

Dumbfounded, Valis relayed Roba’s message. He watched as Brother Bachris’s eyes widened. Then the Patron Priest pushed out of his seat and went to the hearth to light a fire. Once it burned bright, he held one of the pages upside down before the flames and let out a harsh bark of laughter. “This is ingenious! My Arnathian isn’t as good as it should be, but that is easily taken care of. We have several Arnathian natives here who would happily translate. Thank you, Valis.”

“Of course, sir.”

He stared at Valis a moment as he placed the grate in front of the fire and shuffled the pages back into order. “Roba is being docile, then?”

“Yes, sir.” Valis reclined in his seat and frowned. “He has been helpful during our journey, even against Qeraden and the army of Qos adherents, and has even expressed concern for me on several occasions, especially when I seemed to be falling into the darkness of the black magic I wield. He’s helped pull me out several times.”

“And what do your instincts tell you?”

Valis had to think on that. His sire was now a warm weight in his mind. Even his normally barbed words had been duller, and mostly teasing. “I honestly don’t know, sir. But, he’s taught me Urkorian along the journey, a bit of Noldworian, too. He helped us find the caravan when we got lost. When I was injured and unconscious, he did end up in control of my body, but he remained docile, respectful, and even taught Seza how to heal in the field. Then, he relinquished my body when I came back without a fuss.” He frowned and added, “Though I’m unsure if he had a choice in the matter.”

At this, Valis paused and rubbed the back of his neck as he went on more softly. “He’s praised me when I’ve done well. He—” His voice wavered and Valis cleared his throat. “He is almost the father I always wished he could be.”

Roba’s voice came so soft it was almost ghostly, I wish I could have been that father, as well.

Valis wiped away his sudden tears. You could have been.

No. I do not think I could have. Roba sighed. If I had been, you never would have come here. Perhaps I just had a part to play. Perhaps this was all destined. But, I am proud of who and what you have become. You are so much stronger than I ever was.

Brother Bachris pressed a kerchief into Valis’s hand and patted his cheek. “Are you well, son?”

“Yes, sir.” He took a moment to mop up his face and blow his nose. “Roba just said some… sweet and uncharacteristic things.”

The priest went quiet a moment as Valis continued to dry his face. When Valis met his eyes again, Brother Bachris pressed a kiss to his brow which had Valis staring at him in confusion. The older man had shown tenderness before but never affection such as this. “I hope, for your sake, he is sincere, Valis. That he should find the Light in you upon his death gives me great hope for our future.”

Valis hung his head and leaned into Brother Bachris’s arms. “Everyone expects so much from me. I fear failing everyone.”

Brother Bachris cupped his cheek. “It is not expectation so much as it is hope. If you but try, you can fail no one. Everyone has doubts and fears and insecurities. Those we look up to now and those past heroes we honor—the thing that separates them from normal men and women is the fact that they tried. When life knocked them down, they got back up. They never quit, never gave up. If they failed, they came at the problem from another angle and tried again.”

A sigh gusted into Valis’s hair, and Brother Bachris stood, pulling Valis to his feet. “I have seen this greatness in you, Valis. Just because you do not see it in yourself, does not mean you are not capable of great deeds.”

The realization that he didn’t have to be perfect had the knots in Valis’s stomach easing. He sagged against Brother Bachris as weight lifted off his shoulders. The priest held Valis as if he might break, one hand cradling his head and one lightly wrapped about his shoulders as Valis wept silently.

He didn’t hear the door open, but after a few murmured words, Brother Bachris turned Valis around and pressed him into yet another chest with a kiss to his temple. “I believe it is just relief and exhaustion, Brother Tavros. All is well.”

“Thank you, Brother. I’ll take care of him.”

Brother Bachris chuckled. “I know you will, son. I know you will.” He lingered a moment at the door, evidenced by the metallic sound of his hand playing with the handle in a rare show of hesitation. “Should I have lunch sent here for the two of you? Or do you think he will be well enough for the dining hall this afternoon?”

Tavros stroked a hand down Valis’s hair and rocked him side to side. “I think he’ll be all right for lunch in the hall. If I think otherwise later, I’ll fetch our meals myself. Thanks, Brother.”

“Rest, dear boys. I fear there is much excitement ahead of you, and it will be starting very soon.”

The door clicked shut. Tavros said nothing but stood there and rocked as if he had all the time in the world to just hold Valis and wait for his faucets to run dry. The rocking—and Tavros’s quiet love like a warm blanket wrapped about him—calmed Valis. He sighed as he tucked his face into the curve of Tavros’s neck and kissed the skin closest to his lips. “Thanks, Tav.”

“Why were you crying?” To Tavros’s credit, his question came as curiosity rather than pure concern, as if he knew nothing was truly wrong.

“Relief, and Roba being sweet. The two mobbed me, and I was ill prepared.”

“What did Roba say?”

A shiver wound through Valis’s spine, and he tucked closer. “He said he wishes he could have been the father I needed. And he also said he’s proud of me.”

His lover gave Valis a tight hug and rocked them again. “Valis Bakor: Purifier of Souls. The title suits you.”

Though it was said in jest, Valis frowned. “Sovras said I did, but, do you think I somehow purified him? Or do you think it is more that he’s free of Qos’s taint now that he no longer has a body of his own?”

“I think, if anyone could purify his soul, that person would be you. Especially after seeing you purify the black magic inside you in mid-cast.” He pressed a warm kiss to Valis’s shoulder and amended, “Though, why are you asking me, instead of him?”

His sire’s voice came soft and fond, as if he, too, were wrapped in the comfort of Tavros’s arms. You know I hate making uneducated guesses.

Valis chuckled and pressed his face into Tavros’s shoulder. “What should we do until lunch?”

Tavros turned a quirked grin on him. “I have a few ideas…”

“Oh?” While he had a few of his own, Valis tried to feign ignorance. But his libido decided that idea was stupid. “What might those be?”

His lover leaned in, licked his earlobe and gusted hot breath into the sensitive canal in the way he had learned was Valis’s weakness. “Well,” he murmured against his ear, the sensual vibrations of his voice making Valis’s knees go weak, “there is a very plush bed, a warm hearth, and a very spacious bath for when I get you all hot and sticky.”

He pulled back with a wicked grin. “Or we could, of course, keep our clothes on and go see our friends. It’s completely up to you.”

That tease was delicious, then a thought hit him. He wilted. “Before we do anything, I promised Brother Bachris I would speak with you on when we wish to be bonded. He and Brother Thyran both are worried that by naming me Valiant before I bonded, the Sovereign Priest may give other Aspirants false hope.”

Tavros sobered and drew Valis over to the sitting area. “Have you thought about a date?”

Valis groaned and tucked himself against his lover’s side. “Not really. With everything that’s happened since we started courting, I’ve been a little preoccupied.”

That got him a laugh from Tavros. “Is there any day you don’t want it to be?”

“Mmm…” Valis thought on that as he stared off into the tapestry that hung over his table across the room. He nodded after a moment. “I don’t want it on the anniversary of the day I got here.”

“It should be sometime soon, and that day is still far off.”

Valis nodded and sighed. Then, he shrank down. “I want my fathers here.”

Tavros made a sympathetic noise and squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry, Valis.”

“Me, too.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “There were no letters from them. Not one. We’ve been gone over three months. Where are they?”

“I don’t know, love. And my heart hurts for you.”

Valis wanted to hope, but hope was too hard at the moment, even with the thought of their bonding. “I’ll write them a letter this evening before bed and let them know the date once we decide on it. If they are safe and can make it, that’s great. If they can’t, I’ll know they’re there in spirit.” I just hope in spirit doesn’t mean in death…

Do not waste your time worrying on that, Roba murmured. Focus on your lover, on what you have now, and let the rest unfold as it will. Be ready, but do not lose yourself.

I promise.

Movement against his head signaled Tavros’s nod. Another thought hit Valis, and he leaned away to look Tavros in the eyes. “Is there any date you would like our bonding to occur?”

Tavros gave him a small grin. “I was thinking of doing it the day before the Autumn Festival at the end of the month. I thought it apt that out spiritual bonding night be in the month of Spirituality.”

At the mention of autumn, Valis wilted and hunched down. “Papa wanted to share the autumn colors of Arlvor with me. We didn’t get to do that last year because we arrived in a blizzard. It looks like it won’t be happening this year, either.”

“Oh, Valis…” Tavros hugged him fiercely and let out a deep sigh. “I would magic them back if I could.” A chill swept the room, and he paused to whisper “flame” while glancing at the hearth in Valis’s room. Once the fire flared brighter behind the utilitarian brass screen, he focused his attention on Valis and gave him a small smile. “If they’re not back by the middle of Mobility—next month—maybe we can see if we can join them. By then, we should be full Aesriphos, and possibly be able to take our first assigned Duty.”

Valis snorted. He had no hope of that. “Didn’t you say we had tons of training to do after we become full Aesriphos?”

He didn’t wait on an answer. Instead, he stared off into the fire while he tried to calm his racing mind. “I have to help translate Roba’s books for the priests if I can’t remove the literary wards. We have to train in the rites of priests.” Another thought hit him, and he wrinkled his nose. “And I’d like to teach at least two Aesriphos how to defend against the power of Qos.”

With a soft grunt, Valis shifted his position so he was no longer slouched and stretched his back. After so long of keeping his spine ramrod straight due to people’s constant regard, slouching for too long actually hurt. “As much as I love and miss my fathers, we need to think about this in a broader sense. Traipsing off after them when we may be needed elsewhere wouldn’t do anyone any favors.”

Tavros nodded, but nudged him with his shoulder. “What do you mean it wouldn’t do anyone any favors?”

“Well…” He sighed and tugged at his uniform shirt, suddenly wishing for the weight of his armor to help him feel stable. “We don’t know where they are anymore. They could still be at the location of their last correspondence, or they could have moved deeper into Aspar or another country altogether. Or they could have been captured and taken elsewhere. We have no way of knowing where they are, which way they went, or if they’re even still alive.”

He glanced over at Tavros, his stomach queasy at the very thought of never seeing his fathers again and frowned. “I told you about that vision. If it was my fathers in that prison, our efforts are better spent taking up their duty, rather than looking for them. If we can get into the main nest, we may find them in the process. But it has to be done according to sanction so we don’t risk anyone’s life unnecessarily.”

Tavros let out a long sigh and kissed Valis’s temple. “I agree.” He didn’t seem happy about it, but instead of going on with that line of conversation, he nudged Valis in the side. “Come on. Let’s meet our friends. It is nearly time.”

Lunch. After all their talking, Valis had almost forgotten about the awful encounter that morning when he and his friends had just returned from their journey. Would he see the two Aesriphos in the dining hall? Would they make a scene?

Only one way to find out. “Let’s go.”

Valis looked around at his room for the last time. Everything he owned had been removed. His closet door stood open, the dark inside even darker without all of his white uniforms giving it the appearance of the darkness not being so complete. The white walls shone from a fresh scrubbing. Even though the stone gleamed, it seemed dull and lifeless.

He touched the wall where the tapestry Maphias had bought him once hung. With everything gone, the room seemed hollow, without a soul where once it had so much life and, most of the time, joy. These walls no longer comforted him. It no longer felt like it was his. With the seating arrangement gone, the space felt cold and desolate.

“Are you ready?” Tavros asked. He closed the door behind him and came up behind Valis, pulling him against his broad chest.

Valis took a deep breath, taking his lover’s comforting scent deep into his lungs. “It looks strange, doesn’t it? I used to feel safe here. Now it feels foreign and cold.” He turned in Tavros’s arms and kissed the side of his neck, making Tavros shiver and pull him tighter to his chest. “I never saw it so empty. Even when I first moved in, it was full because of you guys and that surprise party.”

“And now Seza and Zhasina are decorating our new suite.” Tavros chuckled and let out a quiet, fond sigh. “I can’t believe you let them talk you into kicking us out so they could decorate for us.”

Valis shrugged. “It brings them joy. And I don’t mind.” He pinched Tavros’s side. “Neither did you. What did you say?”

“You shush.”

“Oh, no,” Valis teased. “You said you didn’t mind because it saved you the trouble of moving the heavy shit. Because they got Maphias and Jedai to do everything while the girls supervised.”

“And what do you think Aenali is doing?”

Grinning, Valis closed his eyes and rested his head on Tavros’s shoulder. “Probably bossing everyone around like always. She’s in charge of our office area.”

“Mm.” Tavros nuzzled the top of Valis’s head. “Why are you hanging around in an empty room? We could be doing other things. You’ve stopped your schooling before we left to rescue the Kalutakeni, and we need to get back into it. We could train, or⁠—”

Valis cut him off with a snort. “Aren’t you the one who is always complaining about my inability to sit idle?”

“Cheeky shit.”

“Your cheeky shit.”

Tavros rewarded him for that comment with a kiss to his temple. “Yes.” He gripped a fistful of hair at the back of Valis’s head and used it to tilt Valis’s face up so he could plant a sweet kiss to the tip of his nose. Tavros’s clear gray eyes seemed almost white today with just the dark ring around the iris to show where it ended and the whites of his eyes began. His black hair, freshly cut, stuck up in messy spikes that Valis couldn’t help but run his fingers through. Tavros groaned and squeezed Valis’s hair tighter, the tug delicious against Valis’s scalp. “Nineteen days,” Tavros murmured. “We get married in nineteen days! Are you getting excited?”

Smirking, Valis rubbed his nose. “Obviously not as excited as you.”

“You’re going to make me sad, Valis…”

“Can’t have that. You’ll pout for days.”

“I don’t pout.”

“Like you didn’t pout for the hour I wouldn’t pay attention to you yesterday because I was writing a lesson plan down for the reliquary guards? Or, how about that time you didn’t pout this morning when I said we couldn’t fool around because people would be moving the bed out of the room, and I didn’t want it smelling like sex. I had to promise orgasms in the bath for you to pull your lower lip back in.”

Tavros heaved a dramatic sigh. “Those were looks of disappointment, not pouting.”

Valis grinned and kissed him until Tavros was breathless, his hands squeezing Valis’s ass, grinding their hips together. “Noted,” Valis said between pants. “You get handsy when I’m trying to make a point.”

“I thought the point to the kiss was to make me handsy.”

Valis snorted and pushed against Tavros’s chest playfully. “Go check on the group before we get this room dirty again. I want to make a few last-minute checks.”

“There’s nothing left in either of the rooms, and they’re both sparkling clean,” Tavros said. His lower lip came out in another pout that made Valis kiss him again. “What are you checking for?”

In truth, Valis didn’t know. It must have shown on his face because Tavros leaned in and kissed his forehead. “It’s okay. I’ll see you in a few minutes. Take your time, love.”

Valis gave him a grateful smile and squeezed his hand. “Thanks.”

Nodding, Tavros squeezed back and left the room. But with him gone, Valis felt empty again. The room seemed to echo Valis’s heart and mind in that moment, and his thoughts drifted back to the morning of two days ago.

Aryn’s fury still seemed to reverberate through the room, even with the walls and floors stripped bare and polished to a high shine.

You bastards! I can smell your sex. It’s so strong I’m choking on it!

How could you do this to me?

You don’t love him. You just want him to take him away from me.

Nothing will help. Nothing…

You will be sorry. I’ll make sure of it.

The remembered sound of the door slamming still made Valis’s heart stutter in his chest, made his breath hitch as if he could still feel the breeze of Aryn’s passing. Two days, and it was still so fresh. Two days, and those words still cut Valis deep. Two days, and Aryn hadn’t said a single word to him since. His best friend had become closed off, withdrawn, quieter than normal. He almost seemed like a completely different person.

Nothing made sense. And with the echo of the door slamming shut behind Aryn reverberating in Valis’s mind, and precognitive feelings clenching his gut so tight he had to swallow repeatedly to keep breakfast down, he fled the room for the last time and leaned against the wall in the hall to catch his breath. Leaning over, he rested his palms on his knees, wrenched his eyes shut, and took deep breaths through his nose to calm his nausea. Why wouldn’t the memory leave him?

What was Aryn planning? Was this something he would eventually get over? How could Valis enjoy the time until he and Tavros married without his best friend by his side?

So many questions, and not a single answer. After Aryn had left, Valis hadn’t known what to feel. He’d stood stock still, staring at the door.

“What the fuck just happened?” Tavros had asked.

Like Valis, Tavros had stared at the door Aryn had just stormed through. The sound of it slamming echoed through the room, or was that echo in Valis’s head? Instead of the broken heart Valis was sure showed on his own face, Tavros’s had been pinched and red with fury.

“Your brother just accused us of betraying him,” Valis said, his voice sounding far-off to his own ears, as if someone else spoke instead of the words coming from his own mouth. He rubbed his forehead and groaned. “Oh, I don’t think this is going to go well.”

Tavros had sighed and pulled Valis close to him, tucking him against his side. “He’s been acting strange for a while. Did you notice? When he’s with our group, he’s unusually quiet, and lately, since we came back, he’s not been with our group often. He always has some excuse to beg off.”

Valis had frowned and rested his head on Tavros’s shoulder. “I noticed. Things have just been too hectic for either of us to do anything about it.”

And now—in the present as Valis stood in the hall to catch his breath, fighting the nausea that bubbled up in the back of his throat—he watched as people passed by while trying not to look like they were staring at him with questions scrolling by in their eyes, and he wondered if the universe was laughing at him. Time seemed to mean nothing. Either it crawled by so slow that Valis had to fight not to go mad, or it sped by so fast he wondered where the day, week, or month went. Now, as he wanted his best friend by his side, Valis was left in that limbo between realities. Time was speeding past, but Valis felt stuck in time, like time was moving by without him.

But was Aryn even his best friend anymore? Or had Tavros taken his place, since they were closer than ever, and on their way toward getting married? Did a lover also count as a best friend?

Your mind is far too clouded, his friend and mentor, Thyran, said into their mental link. I swear, if you don’t go find something to do other than relive the past, I will stick you in front of a stack of books until your mind goes numb.

Valis chuckled to himself and closed his eyes. I think I’ll pass for now.

Damn. I had hoped you would come help me with these.

Soon. If I go now, I’ll make sure you are the one to face the three girls’s wrath.

…Take your time, Valis. There is no need to be so hasty with your wondrous help.

Thought you would see it my way.

Tavros is right. You really are a cheeky shit.

Valis barked a laugh that startled one of the women who walked by. After apologizing, he went to Maphias’s room where he and Tavros were supposed to wait until their suite was “ready.” Whenever that would be, he had no idea, but he knew better than to not be there when Seza came to fetch him.

To his surprise, Valis was the only one there. Where had Tavros gone? He didn’t have long to wonder, because before he could sit in one of the chairs in the seating area, someone kicked the door.

Heading back over, Valis peered outside and laughed. Tavros had a large steaming mug in each hand, napkins hanging from his mouth, and each elbow held a bag full of what smelled like pastries from the kitchens.

“I take it you would like a hand with all that?”

“Mm-hm.”

Valis grinned. “Okay.” He took the napkins from Tavros’s mouth and turned to go back to the seating area.

“You had better be joking,” Tavros snarled. “At least take the bags?”

Laughing harder, Valis plucked the bags out of the crooks of Tavros’s elbows and leaned in to peck his lips. “Of course.”

“So, what were you thinking about?” Tavros set the mugs down on the low table in the center of the seating arrangement. He fussed, taking the napkins from Valis to place one under each mug, and spread out two more to use as plates for the pastries. As he worked, he kept glancing up at Valis, waiting for Valis to answer. “You know, it can help to talk it out…”

Valis scrunched his nose. “And how do you know there was a problem?”

“You opened the door like you were afraid of who you might find on the other side and had these little lines between your blond brows that let me know something is going on in that gorgeous head that probably shouldn’t be.”

Sighing, Valis helped set out the food, and instead of taking up his napkin loaded with meat and vegetable-filled pastries, he curled up on the couch. Thinking of Aryn made his appetite wither up and die, and the last thing he wanted was food in his hands when he told Tavros about it. Not telling him wasn’t even an option. Aryn was both of their problem.

Tavros moved their food and drinks around, then sat next to Valis, putting a warm hand on his knee. “Valis?”

Valis blew out a shaky breath. “Aryn. I can’t get his words out of my head. Every time they cycle through, I get that pitting in my stomach that tells me something bad is about to happen, and I’m waiting for the sword to fall.”

“He can’t do anything to us.” Tavros squeezed Valis’s knee and when Valis covered his hand, Tavros turned his own over and gripped Valis’s tight, lacing their fingers together. “He’ll get over it.”

“I don’t think he will,” Valis admitted. “It feels like it’s going to escalate before it gets any better.”

After a beat of silence where Tavros pressed his lips into a thin line, as if he were about to argue, he blew out a breath, leaned over, and pressed a kiss to Valis’s shoulder. “I trust your instincts. What should we do about it?”

Valis shrugged and leaned into Tavros’s warmth. “I’m not sure we can do anything about it. At least, not until we know what he’s going to do, or if he’s actually going to do anything at all.”

“Then let’s just take each day as it comes.” Tavros gathered up Valis’s food and handed it to him. “Until then, eat your lunch while we still have time.”

They ate in companionable silence, and just as they were finishing up someone knocked at the door. Valis sighed as he stuffed the last bite of pastry into his mouth and balled up his napkin. He chewed fast as he headed for the door and swallowed as he opened it to reveal Thyran.

“You didn’t have to inhale your food on my account,” the historian said, his piercing blue eyes shining with his amusement.

Thyran stood tall and stout, and Valis sighed as he realized he was actually taller than the man now when he used to be so much shorter. Thyran grinned at him, privy to his thoughts. He ran his hand through his freshly cut salt and pepper hair, sending it up into attractive spikes. The man’s almost ghostly complexion from staying indoors flushed as he laughed. For a man over two-thousand years old, he was still as virile and attractive as if he were only in his early forties.

“Stop staring and get yourself ready. You will be training with me today.”

Valis groaned and let his head fall back until he stared up at the ceiling. He had hoped today would be one of leisure. Thyran had apparently not received that missive. “Can it wait until tomorrow?”

“I am afraid not, no.” And damned if that bastard didn’t smirk at him. “Come along. Tavros can come with you if he chooses.”

Sighing, Valis thumped his forehead against the door and stepped aside to open it wider so he could step out. He glanced back at Tavros. “Are you coming?”

“You go on ahead,” Tavros said. “I’ll clean up our lunch mess and meet you up there.”

“Up there” was the reliquary, one of Valis’s favorite places in the monastery. As much as he wanted leisure time, his heart eased at the thought of stepping into the warmth the temple offered and surrounding himself with the treasures and old books the reliquary guarded.

With a nod to Tavros, Valis followed his mentor through the halls and up to the topmost floor of the monastery, and as soon as they stepped through the wide double doors, Thyran shaded his eyes.

“You know, one day I hope to be able to come in here without someone having to do that.”

Thyran chuckled. “Perhaps one day soon you will have ample enough time to come here and simply bask in the light. Until then, you have work to do, young man.”

The light he spoke of shined down from the center of the domed glass ceiling. The Light of Phaerith was an undulating mass of golden light that drew Valis’s attention whenever he entered the temple and held him captive, making him feel loved, wanted, warm and comforted. But every time he came in, someone shaded his eyes so he could stay on task, or he had to studiously keep his eyes down to the sapphire runner that ran the length of the Hall of Communion from the entry doors to those leading into the reliquary. If he didn’t, he’d most likely lose hours to the comfort that light offered, and he never seemed to have the time to indulge.

Now, with his eyes shaded, Valis turned his gaze to the floor and let Thyran usher him down the aisle between rows of concave benches to the back of the room. Two reliquary guards bowed to Thyran as they opened the doors to the reliquary, and once through, Valis was finally able to look straight ahead without worry.

While there were great and wondrous treasures in the reliquary, none of them held Valis’s attention except the stacks of his father, Roba’s books along the long table that ran most of the length of the room. The greatest treasures were in the vault in the very back, protected by spells, a special door, and more reliquary guards. Those were the treasures that mattered, the god jars. And just looking at that door, Valis wondered if he would be strong enough to see his duty through. It amazed him that just one of the ten jars could corrupt the whole.

“Your mind has wandered off again,” Thyran chided, though his tone held amusement instead of censure. “You will not learn today’s lesson if your mind cannot stay on task.”

Valis groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I know. It’s just that everything is going so fast, and I feel like I can’t keep up.”

The historian patted his shoulder and pushed him toward a smaller table between two giant bookcases near the back of the room that would effectively hide him from view of most of the rest of the room. The scent of old parchment, ancient ink, and musty paper tickled his nose and oddly gave him some comfort as it wrapped him in what felt like another world.

Thyran reached around Valis and touched the rim of a dark blue bowl full of water, making the liquid ripple and dance. “Just as well that this lesson can be quite relaxing. And, it will keep you out of your friends’ way while they work on your new suite.”

Valis turned and narrowed his eyes at his friend. “Really? You did this on purpose as a diversion?”

Thyran’s eyes twinkled with his grin and he gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Yes.”

With a snort, Valis turned back to the bowl and forced his shoulders to relax. “Fine. What am I doing, and how do I do this?”

And just like that, Thyran went from jovial friend to mentor in a breath and leaned against the side of the bookcase to Valis’s left. “For today’s lesson, and for the foreseeable future, you will be learning how to scry.”

“Oh, great.”

Thyran laughed, a joyous sound, and clapped Valis hard on the shoulder. “It is time you learned to scry, my boy. I have had a vision. This is definitely a skill you need to master, and in a short amount of time.”

“By… staring into a bowl of water?”

“Indeed.”

“Are you serious?”

“As I’ve ever been.”

“A bowl of water…”

“You were expecting something else?”

“Well, yeah… One of those scrying mirrors, or my spelled pocket watch⁠—”

“Your pocket watch is not spelled, Valis.”

“I thought it would be when I was ready to use it,” Valis groused. “A bowl of water.”

“Yes. A bowl of water. Focus your mind and intent on the water’s surface, let your eyes go unfocused and let your mind clear of all else but your intent. Just as with anything else you have learned or have taught, it is all about focusing your will. Will yourself to see what it is you wish to see. Then make it happen.”

Valis wrinkled his nose but nodded. “Can’t be that hard.”

Thyran chuckled but went back to mentor-mode. “Scrying is an art that can show you the happenings of the present, as well as both past and future. The trick once you learn how to see, is to focus on who you wish to view, or have a very specific location in mind, just like when you translocate. It can also be used as a communication tool.” He caressed the side of the bowl like it was an old friend. “The water will help. It is fluid and malleable, just like time and space, but when you have the basics down, you can scry using any reflective surface.”

Valis nodded. “Like the inside of the pocket watch you gave me, and Qeraden’s mirror.” Qeraden had been a Lesser Priest of Qos. Valis had captured him on his excursion to Lyvea to rescue the Kalutakeni caravan. Among his things were kill and capture on sight lists, supplies, and a hidden scrying mirror that had momentarily fascinated Valis. Now, he would finally learn how to use such a tool, and it filled Valis with purpose. “How do I do this?”

“The first task,” Thyran said cautiously, “is to clear your mind completely. This may be hard for you because of all that you have resting on your shoulders, which is why I chose this alcove, so you would have minimal distraction. Then, once your mind is clear, you need a singular focus. Focus on who you want to see, and whether you want to see their past, present, or future. And if you choose past or future, you need a specific event in mind. For now, I just want you to try to focus on viewing the present.”

“Ugh.” Valis’s shoulders sagged. Then he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and cracked his neck. “I can do this.”

“I know you can. I will be reading at the table if you have any questions or need a break.”

“Thanks, Thyran.”

As his mentor left, Valis flicked his blond ponytail off his shoulder and took another steadying breath. He would always put duty above all else. What could go wrong?

“No. NO! PAPA!”

It had to be Kerac. Tymor wouldn’t be carrying anyone else, and Valis would know that silver stallion anywhere. Even in the darkness of night where Valis had trouble seeing anything else but moon-silvered grass and the darker darkness of the distant tree line, he could make out Tymor’s coat and the distinct, elegant shape of his breed. The moon lit up the surrounding area just enough that Valis could see the glint of the horse’s silver coat and the shine of armor. And the person slumped over the saddle had long, dark hair that dragged through the tall swaying grasses. Just the sight made Valis wish he could fly. Kerac had to be alive. He just had to.

Another horse exited the tree line with a tired whinny, and Valis cried out, “Xyna! That’s Father’s horse! I know her whinny anywhere!”

But Xyna bore no rider, and Valis’s stomach pitted. Where was his father? Valis coughed to clear his throat and let out a cracked scream, “PAPA!”

“Valis! Don’t kill your horse!”

“Something is wrong with Papa,” Valis called back. “Where is Father?”

Valis’s heart thundered, sending jolts of panic through his veins. It thumped faster than Rasera’s hooves, even as he urged his horse to go faster, farther. And even though Valis knew his heart was in his chest, trying its damnedest to crack his ribcage, it felt like it was in his throat, strangling him as he wheezed for every gasping breath as if he ran instead of riding his horse.

“Papa, I’m coming!”

The body slumped over the horse didn’t even twitch with Valis’s choked cry. With every thundering beat of hooves, Valis felt his entire world tilt on its axis, and feared he would fall off. And as he raced, he frantically tried to call his friend.

Thyran! Thyran, please answer me!

Thyran took only a moment to answer and sounded harried. Gracious. What is wrong, Child?

I found Kerac slumped over his horse’s saddle, but I don’t see Darolen anywhere. I need a search party to my location. Can you see it in my mind?

No, but I can scry after you. Leave it to me. Bring him home and let me handle the rest.

Thank you!

Clouds passed over the moon, obscuring Valis’s vision. He pushed magic into his eyes until the area lit up again. As he neared Kerac’s silver stallion, he urged Rasera to slow down so they wouldn’t bowl the poor horse over or terrify him. Rasera didn’t have his augmented vision and trusted him not to let them run into anything.

“Papa!”

He pulled Rasera to a stop next to Kerac’s horse. The poor beast looked exhausted, his head hanging down. He neighed tiredly when Rasera pressed his nose to Tymor’s neck.

Valis let Rasera comfort Kerac’s horse while he vaulted out of the saddle and brushed Kerac’s matted hair away from his face.

“Valis?” Tavros called.

“Here! Push magic into your eyes with the intent to see.”

“Got it. I’m coming!”

Valis frantically searched Kerac’s neck for a pulse. Tears scalded his chilled cheeks, but he ignored them. Finally, he found it. Kerac’s pulse came thready and weak, but it was there. Now that he wasn’t as frantic, he could hear Kerac’s shallow breathing. With as much care as he could manage, he pulled Kerac off his horse’s back and laid him in the grass to start removing armor.

Tavros approached, his horse letting out a snort as they stopped. He dropped out of the saddle and knelt on Kerac’s other side, and without a word, he helped Valis get the armor off. Between them, they made quick work of it, and Valis got up to get Kerac’s bedroll from his saddle and unrolled it, using it as a makeshift bag to carry the armor pieces in.

Once he had that tied to the silver stallion’s saddle, he tied the poor beast’s reins to Rasera’s saddle, Xyna’s reins to Tavros’s saddle, and mounted up. Tavros didn’t need asking. He just hauled Kerac up and helped situate him in Valis’s lap, knowing what Valis needed.

“We’ll get him home, love,” Tavros murmured. “He’s hung on this long. He won’t give up now.”

“I know,” Valis whispered. His voice wavered, but all he could do was hope.

Feeling Kerac’s soft, shallow breaths waft across his throat gave Valis something to focus on as he waited for Tavros to mount up. The moment he was in his saddle and ready to go, Valis wanted to race home, but he didn’t know the extent of Kerac’s injuries, nor did he feel comfortable making his fathers’s horses run with as exhausted as they were. Instead, he held on to Kerac and let Tavros lead them home.

The festivities in Cadoras were still going strong as they neared, the sounds of revelry echoing into the night as they navigated their horses through the whiptail trees that bordered Cadoras Lake. It offered Valis a little peace, especially when they boarded the ferry and the feeling of home washed over Valis. Even Kerac seemed to relax. But that only made Valis’s heart plummet and his fingers fly to Kerac’s throat to search for his pulse.

The weak beats that fluttered against his fingertips made Valis only marginally relax. It was a small comfort, just like the soft puffs of breath against his collarbone. And the moment they stepped off the ferry and onto Cadoras Island, Valis suddenly felt like he would break apart at any moment if he didn’t urge Rasera into a gallop.

But the Autumn Festival was still in full swing. There were people everywhere. It wouldn’t be safe—not for the city’s citizens, and not for the horses.

It took too long to get through the masses of people and in front of the monastery. People were everywhere, some drunk on ale or wine, others drunk on the fun they were having. All Valis wanted to do was scream at everyone to get out of his way, but he let Tavros do the talking while he focused on Kerac and those puffs of breath on his skin that let him know his papa was still alive.

“Valis?” Aenali’s voice carried over the revelers. “Valis!”

“Aenali, wait!” Jedai called.

Valis glanced over to see his group of friends rushing through the crowd. Seza, the faster of them, stopped at Rasera’s side and laid a gentle hand on Kerac’s back, her eyes huge. “Jedai. Get over here. Valis, pass him down to Jedai. Maph, take care of these horses, will you?”

“Of course,” Maphias said as he rushed over.

Jedai reached for Kerac, and Valis carefully lowered him down. “Be careful. I don’t know what injuries he has.”

“No problem, man.” Once Jedai had Kerac in his arms, he cradled him tenderly just like he would his baby sister. “Get down here so we can get him inside.”

“What’s on Kerac’s horse?” Seza asked.

“Kerac’s armor,” Valis said as he dismounted. “I bundled it into his bedroll.”

“I will get his armor,” Zhasina said. “You and Tavros get him to the Master Healer.”

Jedai carefully handed Kerac back over when Valis reached for him. “I’ll go with you in case you need anything. That okay?”

“Yeah,” Valis said. “Thanks.”

By the time they made it to the healer’s ward, his friends had raced to catch up with him and met him at the door. Tavros never left Valis’s side, so Jedai knocked to get Firil’s attention. When the Master Healer poked his head out of his office, his eyes widened, and he threw the door open, motioning Valis to head into the main sanctuary with the rows of cots. “Come in. Get him on a cot while I rouse my assistants.”

Valis’s friends parted to let him through. In the stark white light of the healing ward, if Kerac’s breaths weren’t ghosting across Valis’s skin, he’d think his papa was dead. Kerac had deep purple bruises under his eyes. His face was so gaunt and pale, and he was so emaciated, that Valis wondered when he’d eaten last. How long had he been slung across that saddle?

Most of all, his thoughts went to the sinking feeling in his stomach. Where is father?

Darolen and Kerac were inseparable. They never went anywhere without the other. Not unless they had to split up to keep someone safe, or they had a short errand to run. This was no short errand. Darolen would never let Kerac get like this unless he was dead or captured.

Valis laid Kerac on the cot and stroked his matted hair, picking out dead twigs and bits of grass from the ends. He stroked his papa’s cheek, ghosted his fingers over his forehead and down the side of his face to his chin, down to rest on his pulse point just to prove to himself that Kerac was still alive.

“Let us in,” Firil said gently. The Master Healer squeezed Valis’s shoulder and nudged him out of the way. “I will not ask you to leave, but your friends should return to their rooms or duties if they are not going back to the Autumn Festival.”

Valis glanced over at his friends and Jedai stepped forward, drawing Valis into a tight hug. “We’ll wait for you in the sitting room of your suite. Meet us there when you have news, okay?”

“Yeah,” Valis whispered around the lump of emotion in his throat. “Thanks.”

Jedai nodded and gave him another squeeze before ushering the rest of the group out of the room and shutting the door behind him. Only Tavros remained. He stepped up behind Valis and wrapped his arms tight about Valis’s chest, resting his chin on Valis’s shoulder. “He’ll be okay,” Tavros whispered. “He’s fought hard to get here. He won’t give up now that he has help. Not now that he has you so close.”

All Valis could do was nod and pray that his husband was right.

And then that thought hit him. Tavros was now his husband. Even as fear for Kerac’s life weighed him down, Tavros’s love kept him from drowning in that fear. It had only been two days since their joining night, and everything was still so new and vibrant before they found Kerac in the field.

“What are you thinking about?” Tavros murmured against the shell of Valis’s ear.

Valis shrugged. “I still can’t believe we’re finally married. Worried about Papa. Wishing I could do more than stand here like an over-emotional idiot while other people work on him.”

Firil’s voice, strained from working and his magical focus, filtered over, “You are doing plenty by just being here. Your presence is keeping him at peace.”

Valis felt a small, brief smile tug at the corners of his mouth. It seemed foreign, as if he hadn’t smiled in weeks instead of just hours. Leave it to Firil to comfort him while he worked.

“Do you think he’ll make it?” Valis murmured, careful to keep his voice down so he wouldn’t break the four healers’ concentration.

“I believe he will, yes,” Firil said, just as quietly. “He will need you when he wakes, I think.”

“He can stay in our suite,” Tavros said. “I won’t force you to part with him, Valis. We can either bring a small bed into our room or set up a cot or something in the sitting room.”

Valis leaned back into Tavros’s chest, his heart swelling with pride and love until it became hard to breathe. “Thanks.”

Firil glanced over with a small smile, then turned back to his work as he spoke. “I am afraid he may be remaining here for the foreseeable future. We can heal much, but he will need to be monitored for some time yet. Unfortunately, we cannot heal illnesses or weight loss with magic. He must be medicated and put on a special liquid diet to regain his lost weight and battle the infections in his system.”

“I don’t mind,” Valis said. “I’d rather he be in capable hands.”

The Master Healer merely nodded. Sometime later, Valis glanced at the clock in the room. It had been hours, and Valis hadn’t moved, watching the healers work. Finally, Firil rose from his stooped position over Kerac’s body and stretched his back, craning his neck from side to side with a series of pops and snaps as his spine realigned. “We have done all we can for now.”

“How is he?”

The three other healers who had worked with Firil all smiled at Valis and disappeared through a door in the back of the room as Valis neared Kerac’s cot. He glanced up at Firil, waiting for news.

Firil took his time stretching, and Valis waited as patiently as he could until Firil let out a sigh and started speaking. “He is critically malnourished and dehydrated, has a chest infection, stomach infection, kidney and urinary tract infections, and is severely magically fatigued. My apprentices and I healed his wounds, but the infections from them are still in his blood and tissues. All must be cared for with medications, nutritious foods, treated water, rest, and around-the-clock care.”

“But he’ll live?” Valis asked, his voice cracking on the last word.

The Master Healer gave him a sympathetic smile as he squeezed Valis’s shoulder. “I believe he will, yes. So long as he receives the proper care, he should pull through. But, the first few days will be critical to his recovery. I must start on his treatment plan immediately.”

“Can we stay a little longer?” Tavros asked.

Firil gave him a nod and motioned to the chairs along the walls. “Neither of you will hinder me. Stay as long as you like. Just be sure to take care of your own health as well. And if you need me, I will be in my office.”

Valis glanced at the office door and nodded. “Thank you.”

Once Firil was gone, Tavros gave Valis a hug from behind, pressed a kiss behind his right ear, and went to the side wall. He brought back two chairs and placed them beside Kerac’s cot, then reached for Valis’s hand and drew him over.

“Come on, love. He needs you.”

Valis didn’t hesitate. With that single tug, he let Tavros lead him over to the chairs and sat himself down, his hands automatically reaching for Kerac as if they had minds of their own.

“He needs a bath,” Valis whispered.

“You can bathe him,” Firil said from close behind Valis’s chair. “I was going to have my assistants do it soon, but there is a bathing room through the door on the left if you and Tavros wish to do it yourself.

“I’ll go get him a change of clothes from his suite,” Tavros said. He stood, pressed a kiss to Valis’s temple, and left, leaving Valis alone with Kerac and Firil.

Firil took Tavros’s vacated seat and rested his clasped hands in his lap. “Once you get him bathed and on a clean cot to rest, you and Tavros should go on to bed. I will send for you both when he wakes, but it is very late, and you need your sleep if you want to stay strong for him.”

All Valis could do was nod. His vocal chords wouldn’t work, so he didn’t try to force them. Instead, while he waited, he contented himself with petting Kerac’s head to ease his own heart, to remind him that Kerac was here and he was safe.

Tavros returned sometime later, and after spending an hour getting Kerac clean and into clean clothes that looked ten times too large on him, they tucked him into a clean cot and Valis sat down to try to relax. Everything was pressing down on him, and he needed a moment to get his body to stop shaking from the adrenaline crash from finding one of his fathers half-dead.

Then, out of nowhere, Kerac sucked in a wheezed gasp. His eyes fluttered open. He clutched at the bed sheets as if they were a lifeline.

Then he started screaming.

The sound was like nothing Valis had ever heard before—broken, pained, lost, agonized… tortured.

Valis tried to calm him down. He stroked along Kerac’s head, whispered words near his ear, but it was like Kerac couldn’t hear him, like he was lost in his own mind, seeing and hearing terrible things. He screamed so hard, only stopping to refill his lungs, that Firil rushed back into the room and placed a glowing hand on his head.

Kerac instantly went limp, and Valis turned accusing eyes onto the healer. “What did you do?”

Firil frowned down at Kerac. “I put him into a magical coma. Not stasis. That would prevent him from healing. Instead, I forced him to sleep. He must rest, and I feared he would hurt himself. We will try removing it tomorrow.”

“But—”

Tavros grabbed Valis’s hand and squeezed. “Listen to Firil, love. Let’s go rest. We can come back in the morning and see how he’s doing.”

“I’m afraid,” Valis whispered. “What if⁠—”

“He will be monitored constantly,” Firil assured. “Nothing will happen to him during your respite. Go rest, Valis. He will need you when he wakes.”

With a deep sigh, Valis forced himself out of his chair at Tavros’s insistence and gave Kerac one last look before he let Tavros lead him out of the room.

“Come on, love,” Tavros said as he linked their fingers and drew him down the hall. “Let’s give our friends the news, kick them out of our suite, and get some sleep. We’ll send Seza out to alert Thyran that you won’t be teaching anyone tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Valis said on a gusted breath. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He would humor his husband, but Valis doubted he would sleep at all.

Two weeks of travel had Valis Bakor and his army of Aesriphos and laymen warriors almost to the edge of Arlvor. They moved at a quick and steady pace for as large as their numbers were. Valis glanced behind him. As autumn wore on, the days became shorter, colder, and they traveled well past dark, using the stars as their guide. Valis turned in his saddle and lifted his voice to be heard as far as possible. “Make camp!”

The order echoed down the line of soldiers as one person passed it on to those farther back. Valis swung down off his horse as everyone gathered around. They kept their tents in tight quarters each night so that Valis wouldn’t be too taxed by making the giant shield over their camp.

Once everyone was situated and the men and women started moving their horses to herd formation and relieving them of their burdens and tack, Valis scanned the area using mage lights to see in the darkness. He had to give them and their horses enough room to move, but still keep it tight enough that he wouldn’t expend too much energy. Though, he smirked at himself. He had so much power swirling within him that he doubted it would matter. His mentor and friend, Thyran, had seen to that and every priest and Aesriphos not on this mission with him had poured every bit of magic they could spare into his shield, expanding his personal reserves exponentially until Valis felt invincible.

Still, Valis wanted to use his magic sparingly, keep himself fresh for the trials to come. And when he found the edge of where the shield should rest, Valis strode toward it and touched the ground, focusing his intent on creating an invisible sphere around their camp. He added permanence, invisibility, and soundproofing in a way that they could hear what happened outside, but none could hear them, and impermeability before breaking the spell off from himself so it wouldn’t continue draining him.

When he went back to his horse, Rasera, he patted the black beast’s neck and spoke softly to him as he removed his burdens. Tavros had already started setting up their tent. With most of their forces being Aesriphos, bringing their husbands and wives in the Order with them, most people shared tents. It made camp half as big as it would normally have to be. It also made it easier on their horses. Tavros’s horse carried the tent while Rasera carried both their bedrolls.

Everything went along with military precision. Soon the camp filled with the scents of cooking food, and Valis ducked into his tent to scry as he did nightly. With a lamp hung from the support beam in the tent, Valis had just enough light to see by, but it was dim enough to not cast glaring reflections on the smooth, shiny metal of the gold pocket watch Thyran had given him for his twenty-first birth anniversary.

With a deep breath to calm his aching heart, Valis pressed the knob on the pocket watch to release the cover and turned it so he could stare at the smooth golden surface inside instead of the watch, itself. He focused his intent on his father. This rescue mission was for nothing if Darolen wasn’t still alive.

He had to be alive. Otherwise, Valis had fought his friend, bested the Grand Master Aesriphos, and became the new one for nothing.

Sighing, Valis refocused his thoughts and intent, clearing his mind of everything else and stared into the reflective watch cover. Images started to swirl immediately. The image went black as Valis had anticipated since Darolen was kept in a cell without a lamp or windows. His heart almost stopped when he heard nothing. Then, after a few tense moments, he heard Darolen’s hacking cough. He pulled in a rattling, wheezed breath and let out another cough that sounded wetter than before, and Valis cringed. It sounded like Darolen’s chest infection was getting worse, probably from the fact that his cell was cleaned of his refuse so rarely, and he was forced to sit in his own waste. There was probably mold and fungi everywhere, and Valis felt sick for him.

Valis watched the blackness for a long moment before refocusing to a two-way scry, using Darolen’s refuse as the medium on his side, since it was the only reflective surface Valis knew about. “Father,” he whispered. “I’m coming.”

“Valis?”

“Yes. We’re on our way. Take heart.”

“My son…”

“Listen,” Valis stressed. “I won’t contact you again until I get there. But I wanted to assure you that Papa is doing well. Getting stronger. And I am coming. Tavros and I have an entire army of six-hundred and sixteen souls at our command, and we’re coming to bring you home.”

“So many…” Darolen’s voice was barely a ghost of a whisper. “Valis…”

“It may be months before I contact you again,” Valis said. “Just don’t lose hope. We are coming. Do what you must to survive.”

“I will.”

“I love you. And I will be with you as soon as I can.”

“I love you, too, my son.”

Before Valis could abort the scry, the darkness swirled away. Valis’s heart lurched. Had they been discovered? Had someone caught their scry and tampered with it somehow? Would they punish Darolen for it?

His queasy stomach turned to ice in the next breath. When the swirling stopped, Valis gasped and nearly dropped the pocket watch. Blood and bone showed through the golden reflection. Then he recognized the voices of Aesriphos.

“Secure the area. Contact Thyran to let him know that Ortima has been defeated and we’re coming home.”

How did they get to Evakis so fast? Did they ride that hard? It had only been weeks! Then he remembered that each team had a person in it who had the translocation trait, and Valis grinned. That’s rather ingenious. They could have phased to a town nearby that they had been to before. Interesting. Would that actually work? Or is this scry showing a future event?

The image flashed again, and it looked like the second team had also succeeded, having killed Carnis Doveran. When the image flashed, Valis’s stomach pitted so hard he gagged. It showed four of the six Aesriphos who went after Angas Braywar dead in a heap of armor and hair. The two still alive were tied to a pole, their heads hanging down as if they both had been knocked unconscious, blood dripping from their temples.

Then it flashed again, showing all six alive and healthy, riding at a steady pace toward their destination in Ges.

Valis barely dismissed the scry before he snapped the pocket watch closed and bolted from the tent.

“Valis, what’s wrong?” Tavros strode toward him, worry in his clear gray eyes, his shaggy black hair ruffling in the cold breeze. “Is everything okay?”

“We need to call a meeting of the reliquary guards and the leaders.”

“On it.”

Tavros strode away, calling orders while Valis went to get the map of Peralea that Thyran had given him before he left. He took it over to one of the mage lights and carefully unrolled it, checking their position outside one of the nearby cities and where he knew the Braywar Estate to be on the southern border of Ges and Tonemor. It wouldn’t take them too far out of their way. But he sighed. It would add precious time to their journey, heading more southeast than their current course.

He went back to his tent for his saddlebags and dug around until he found a pencil. He had to get everything right in his mind, and that meant getting it right on paper. If they headed to Setira city, near the edge of Arlvor and the juncture of Chytan and Aspar, they could refresh their supplies, then head to Venoz City in Ges. It followed the river, which was a necessity, but would take more time than going directly.

Glancing over his shoulder at the neat rows of tents, he grimaced. With this many men and women to feed, they needed a constant supply of fresh water more than they needed a direct route. With that in mind, he turned back around and penciled in their route changes.

“The leaders and reliquary guards are assembled,” Tavros said from behind him. “Everyone is waiting.”

“Thanks.”

He rolled the map back up and tucked the pencil behind his ear as he headed toward the fire, pausing to steal a kiss from his husband. “Really. Thanks, Tav. I mean it.” Tavros had been nothing but supportive since the incident with Aryn, always by Valis’s side, and always willing to do whatever Valis asked if it would make their lives or their mission easier.

“What is it, Grand Master?” Shyvus looked at Valis expectantly. While Valis was relieved that some of the reliquary guards delegated to his mission were his closer friends, Shyvus was a handful and a half.

“If I have to tell you one more time,” Valis growled. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Shyvus, if we’re overheard, they’re going to hear ‘Grand Master,’ and immediately go after me. And right now, I’m our only element of surprise, because it’s going to be hard to miss us coming.”

The man laughed, his blond hair falling in his eyes. He brushed it back. “I know. And, you can tell me until you’re blue in the face, Valis. But I’m going to rib you about it until the day we die when we’re safe like this. And we can see for leagues in each direction with this moon, so you know we’re not going to be overheard, even if you didn’t soundproof the shield around the camp.”

Valis let out a sigh and shook his head. The man was insufferable, but he was genuine and knew what he was doing out here better than Valis did. But he wasn’t infallible. And Valis had never tested the soundproofing of his shield, so he wanted to be as careful as possible.

“You know I can create a shield to make myself invisible, and you also know that Qos adherents know how to do the same thing.” He gave his friend a hard stare. “They could be anywhere, and we would never know because we wouldn’t see them until we were already in their trap.”

Shyvus gave him a shit-eating grin. “Not true. You would know. Or have you thought we didn’t realize you can feel the magic around you, and that that’s how you beat us so soundly most of the time? You know what spells we’re casting before we do.”

He couldn’t help but huff a tired laugh. Shyvus was right. Valis could feel the spells they were casting. That’s partly how he managed to beat the two Grand Master Aesriphos and relieve them of their titles.

Letting the matter drop, Valis straightened his spine and glanced around at everyone present. “I scried after my father, as I do every night, but this time, my scry was interrupted. Whether it was from Thyran, or directly from Sovras, himself, I received news that two of the anchor teams were or will be successful⁠—”

Cheers erupted from the ranks, and Valis cringed, nearly deafened by the clamor. He lifted a hand to shut them up, and when they all settled down, he went on. “They were or will be successful, but the team going after Angas Braywar are not going to be. We’re changing course to meet them, hopefully before the slaughter I saw.”

“How do you know they aren’t already dead?” Phalin asked. “They⁠—”

Valis shook his head. “I saw the future first, the most likely outcome if they go in alone. Then I saw them as they are now, still traveling toward their target.”

Phalin relaxed, shoving a hand through his black hair with a deep sigh. “Thank the Nine.”

Valis pitched his voice to carry. “This means we have to split up. I need a team to go with me at a faster pace to make it there in time while the bulk of our army moves at a normal pace with the carts and pack horses. We’ll meet up at the Braywar estate and resume our original mission from there.”

“How many do you think we’ll need?” Venabi asked. She scratched at the pink scar that ran down her dark cheek and stared at him with intent.

“I want ten reliquary guards with me and Tavros, as well as twenty Aesriphos and thirty laymen.” He glanced at Jintas. “I’d also like a few scouts and assassins with us. Whoever you can spare.” Then he met Venabi’s eyes again and nodded to her. “As for the Kalutakeni, whoever wants to go, whoever you can spare, leaving at least Vodis behind in case of wagon break-downs or the need for an extra leader.”

“Done.” She turned and started calling orders to her tribe in their native language. Valis assumed it was so others could start calling orders without everyone getting confused. Jintas did the same while Valis started issuing orders for his own men and women.

“Shyvus and Phalin, I want you two with me. Seza and Zhasina, are you going or staying with the⁠—”

“That’s a dumb question,” Seza said. She raised a brow at him. “We’re going with you.”

“So are we,” Maphias said, hooking a thumb toward Jedai who stood beside him. “Might as well get used to our faces, Valis. We go where you go.”

“Then that’s settled,” Valis said with a grin. Their support warmed him, even though the deep chill of the night threatened to turn him to ice.

He turned to Shyvus and handed him the map. “Check the route. I have it penciled in.”

When Shyvus accepted the map, he immediately unrolled it and started scanning. “You’re taking us to Setira City first.” He nodded. “Good choice.”

“We’ll need to get more supplies. We’ll travel to Setira as a unified army, then split off from the group once we’ve restocked and rested. Then those of us heading to help the Braywar anchor team will secure the estate and we’ll use it as our camp until the main bulk of the army reaches us. After, we head out directly to our main objective.”

“We can lash down the carts more securely,” Venabi said when she returned from issuing orders. “Ride harder during the day to make better time as a group. Keep a team behind the carts at all times to shout ahead if anything breaks or falls. These carts are well made. It should work.”

Nodding, Valis glanced around and let out a breath. “That’s good. Let’s get settled in for the night, get our bellies full, and we’ll start a bit earlier in the morning.”

With that, everyone assumed they were dismissed and went to one of the six fires that dotted the camp to cook food for everyone. Valis took a seat next to Tavros at the nearest one and leaned against his husband’s side, their armor clanking.

“How was Darolen?” Tavros asked gently. He asked every night, and Valis wondered if it was because he was just as worried as Valis, or he was worried just because Valis was.

“His chest infection seems to be getting worse.” Valis paused to accept a bowl of stew with a quiet thanks for Maphias as he handed them out. Once Tavros had his, Valis turned to him again and sighed. “His cough is getting worse. I took a risk and let him know we’re coming. I hope that’s enough to keep him alive and fighting until we get there.”

“It will be.” And Tavros said that with such absolute certainty that Valis wanted to kiss him.

So, he did.

Then they tucked into their stew. Valis’s mind went back to those scrying scenes. Either the two teams already had succeeded, or it was a guarantee that they would. Since it had only been a short time since the anchor teams were dispatched, Valis gathered that the outcomes were guaranteed, but hadn’t yet happened. It made much more sense.

He also knew that neither Thyran nor Sovras—whoever had changed his scrying visions—would ever make him alter his course without giving him enough time to get there. That was only a small comfort, though.

“You seem lost in thought more than normal tonight,” Tavros murmured around a bite of stew. “What’s wrong?”

Valis gave his husband a tired smile and stared down into his half-full bowl as he set his spoon down against the rim. “Just pondering over the visions I saw tonight. At first, when I saw them, I thought it meant the teams for Ortima and Carnis had already succeeded. Just realized it was probably a vision of the future like the first one I had of the Braywar team. It means… I might be able to control when I have a vision. Or, it could mean that Thyran or Sovras decided to take advantage of the fact that I’m a creature of habit.”

Tavros laughed and nudged his shoulder. “You really are.”

Shrugging, Valis ate another bite of stew before saying, “It gets duty done.”

“You…” Tavros stopped to think about that for a moment, then snorted. “You’re not wrong.”

“Never am,” Valis teased.

They continued the teasing banter for a bit as they ate and stared into the fire. Then as some cleaned the pots and got ready to break down the cooking fires, Valis tugged Tavros to their tent. Alone time didn’t happen often when on journeys like this, and Valis took it whenever he could.

No one ever said a thing. When Valis had asked Shyvus about it, he and Phalin both had given Valis fond looks and Shyvus said, “We know how it was when we first bonded. We were as covetous of our alone time as you, and none of the Aesriphos here will ever say a thing, because it is the same for every one of them, too.”

So, when Valis and Tavros took their time shedding their armor, Valis cherished every second. He didn’t care how bad they smelled, or how cramped the tent was. He pulled Tavros down into their thick bedding, tossed their winter cloaks over top, and snuggled close.

“You’re adorable when you’re sentimental,” Tavros whispered against Valis’s lips.

“Just be glad I’m sentimental every night out here.”

Tavros laughed and kissed him again. “Go to sleep, love.”

But Valis stayed awake a few minutes longer to watch his husband drift off in the soft glow of the fading mage light because he didn’t know how many nights like this he would have. Their journey promised to be successful, but that was never a guarantee.

“Isuppose you’re too riled up to do anything but constantly move.” Tavros gave Valis an exasperated look. “You’re fidgeting, and have been ever since your scry.”

Valis snorted and gave his husband a gentle pat on the shoulder as he passed in his pacing. It was one of the constant activities he had adopted ever since he dismissed the scry that showed him the enemy monastery and the route he needed to take to get to it. “I can’t help it. It’s not just a monastery, Tav. It’s an exact copy of Avristin. But…” He sighed. “You know me well.”

“I do,” Tavros said fondly. “So, instead of you pacing, I want to go ahead and teach you how to meditate. If nothing else, it should calm you down. You also seem more awake now than you were when you finished scrying with Thyran.”

Valis’s sigh turned into a groan. He turned around and walked straight into Tavros’s chest, relaxing when his husband wrapped him up tight in his arms. “Yeah. And I need to contact him again to let him know what I found in that scry. But it can wait until after the meditation lesson, I suppose.” He let himself take a moment to bask in Tavros’s warmth and strong arms, then squeezed him and backed away. “All right. Let’s get this done.”

Tavros laughed as he grabbed Valis’s hand and led him from the office. “It will be relaxing, you silly shit. You said that like you were facing a death sentence.”

For once, or perhaps all too often, Valis wished he didn’t have to adhere to duty. But hopefully, learning to meditate would be less fraught with obstacles than when he learned how to scry. Either way, he trusted Tavros when it came to his need to learn things that his husband could teach. No matter how much they didn’t get along in the early days of their relationship, Tavros had always been fair when it came to lessons in both scholastic aims and physical training. He had little doubt that now, after they had married, Tavros would be this enthusiastic about a lesson if it would be exceedingly hard to learn or teach.

To Valis’s surprise, Tavros didn’t take him to their chosen room. Instead, they ended up in a warm conservatory where three of the walls consisted of glass panels. The muted sunlight made the fresh snow glitter and sparkle. The fires in the two hearths kept the space warm. Still, there were luxurious blankets in royal blue on the two white sofas and three intricately woven wicker chairs, and pristine white cushions lay strategically placed around the area on the floor, their size just right to lie down and watch the fat snowflakes drift in lazy swirls to the small drifts that seemed never to build up. Valis briefly wondered if it was magic. Then he felt the magic hum across his skin and consciousness, confirming his suspicions.

“Take a seat on one of the cushions,” Tavros instructed. “Get comfortable with your legs in the knot position.”

Valis chose one that had the best view of the splendor outside. Once he sat down, he arranged himself to Tavros’s specifications and relaxed into the plush luxury. He pulled the blanket over his legs to ward off the slight chill that the two hearths couldn’t chase away and gave his husband his full attention.

“Comfy?”

Valis grinned and nodded. “Now what?”

“Keep your posture straight and rest your hands on your knees, palms up.” When Valis complied, Tavros sat across from him. “Close your eyes and take slow, deep breaths. In for the count of eight, out for the count of eight. Clear and calm your mind, focusing on only the numbers and of the feeling of filling your lungs until you’re completely relaxed. Then once you reach a level of consciousness where you can feel and hear everything around you more crisply, turn your focus inward and into wherever you feel your power manifesting.” He grimaced. “Unfortunately, that’s as much as I know. Anything after that, you have to figure out on your own, because that’s not an exercise I was ever taught. They never taught us to find where our power comes from, only how to draw upon it and put it to use.”

Nodding, Valis closed his eyes and worked to relax his body further. “If I can clear my head enough to scry, I can clear my head for meditation. Good thing it took me forever to learn to scry, otherwise this might be harder than it sounds.”

Tavros chuckled. “This is a completely different animal. Now hush and do as I told you.”

Valis opened his eyes and winked at his husband. “Yes, master.”

“Cheeky shit.”

Grinning, Valis closed his eyes again and let himself relax. Clearing his mind took a few minutes. Every time a new thought entered his head, he acknowledged it and let it drift away into one of those little rooms in his mind that he used for splitting his focus. Aenali had taught him that useful trick, and now he used it to let himself just be.

With the way his consciousness settled, he could feel his birth father, Roba, as a warm, glowing light in his mind, a ghost who had somehow lodged in his consciousness for an unknown amount of time. Now that Roba had been purified and was no longer abusive, Valis took comfort in that warm feeling and let himself drift even deeper into his mind.

That’s when he heard it. His hearing sharpened, Valis could hear the whisper of snowflakes as they fell onto the curved glass roof, and could track their descent down the slope that kept the snow from accumulating into a weight that the glass couldn’t bear. The shushing sound the flakes made as they hit the snowdrifts below calmed Valis even further until he could hear sounds of others walking throughout the manse. Tavros’s quiet breaths sounded like he was breathing directly into Valis’s ear. When he compartmentalized the sounds that filtered their way into his mind, his shoulders sagged, and he fell even deeper until all he could do was feel.

“That’s it,” Tavros whispered. “Let everything go and turn your focus inward. Follow your magic to where it originates, and find a way to expand it.”

How Tavros could tell he had reached such a heightened consciousness, Valis couldn’t tell. Was it due to their bond? How much had it grown? He pushed the thought aside with a soft smile and did as his lover instructed, calling upon his magic and following it within himself to its origin.

It seemed too easy. He mentally followed the trail of what looked like braided light and darkness toward his solar plexus, then followed tendrils that wrapped around his guts like the way the Kalutakeni and mercenaries lashed down their supplies into the wagons. At least now he could see why his stomach pitted so hard.

In the center, he saw what looked like what he imagined to be a shared barrel, half with roiling black magic and half with intensely bright but gentle light. But rather than staying in the “barrel,” they both pulsed and sloshed over the sides, splashing around inside Valis in unconstrained waves that kept growing and receding like rolling tides that Valis had no power over… yet.

It almost seemed like liquid storm clouds, and Valis felt the storm surge throughout his entire body, like lightning shooting through his core and limbs, lighting up his brain like a funeral pyre. The barely controlled chaos seemed to grow wilder with every slow, deep breath Valis took.

Shouldn’t it be tamer with as deep into relaxation as he had gone? Why was it surging so violently? More importantly, how did he expand that container so that his magic wouldn’t slosh and spray everywhere like miniature geysers?

After a few moments of watching the epic mess that lived inside him, someone tapped him on the shoulder.

Valis whipped around, his hands balling into fists automatically. He pulled his right arm back, ready to swing. But the moment he saw who had touched him, all the fight left him and had Valis gasping. “Dad?”

Roba seemed stunned. He reached out a shaking hand to touch Valis’s face. “My son…”

“Am I still meditating?” Valis asked. “Because I’m pretty sure this is impossible on so many levels.”

Roba tilted his head, his eyes going distant for only a moment. “I believe your meditation slipped into dreamwalking. However, it is highly irregular. You are dreamwalking inside your body, which is not how dreamwalks are supposed to happen. They simply do not work that way.”

Valis snorted. “Apparently it does. Or this is something else that we’ve never encountered before.”

“Possibly,” Roba said. He rolled his wrist, motioning to the wellspring of Valis’s power. “This isn’t supposed to happen, either, but it is. This is why your eyes were turning colors, not just because you forced your power into your eyes. You either need an outlet, or you need to make this damnable well larger.”

While Valis took a moment to ponder that, he studied his father. Roba looked exactly as he had in life, but instead of his face infused with rage and hatred, he looked… free. A slight sincere smile lit up his relaxed face as he studied the anomaly that lived inside Valis while he organized his thoughts.

Roba was about to say something when Valis spontaneously pulled his father into a tight hug, startling Roba into returning it without thinking.

“Are you all right, Valis?”

Valis smiled. “I am now.”

Roba tutted. “You are a strange child.” But he held Valis just a little tighter. His hands fisted in Valis’s shirt. He rested his forehead against Valis’s ear, let out a soft sigh, and whispered, “I thought I would never have this.”

“Aw, Dad…” Valis stroked Roba’s hair back. Even as his power roiled around them, it seemed to calm the longer they clung to each other. “If meditation can give us this, I may do it more often when this war is over. I promise, okay?”

Roba shivered and whispered so softly that Valis had to strain to hear, “If I don’t disappear. This could still be temporary.”

“Don’t do that to yourself, Dad.” He backed away just enough to look Roba in the eye. “What have you taught me?” When Roba didn’t answer, Valis continued. “Don’t waste your time worrying about something that may never come to pass.”

Valis poked Roba in the side and turned back toward the well of power that pulsed within him. “Now. What do we do with this mess?”

“Unfortunately,” Roba hedged, “I only know of one way, and you don’t have time for that.”

“What is it?”

Roba wrinkled his nose and went back to staring at their current glowing problem. “Let it grow naturally as you gain power. But you are gaining power at an alarming rate by draining Qos adherents, and getting blasted with holy magic before you departed Avristin… I’m surprised it has taken this long for problems to arise.”

Valis groaned and stared forlornly at the font of his power, wracking his brain to find a solution. He sighed. “I don’t suppose grabbing the edges of the well and pulling will work, would it?”

His father choked on a snort. “I doubt it would hurt to try. And if it does, we can stop immediately.”

“Then grab an edge, and let’s get our hands dirty.” Valis stalked over to the edge of the well and grabbed the side, squinting hard as the light from his holy magic nearly blinded him up close. It was so bright that when Roba rounded to the other side, he could no longer see his father.

“I am ready when you are, my son.”

Valis took a deep breath and let it out, closing his eyes. He concentrated on expanding the well exponentially, silently willing his font to heed his orders. “Now.” Valis pulled with all his strength. He heard Roba’s labored grunts and pulled harder. It strained against him, but he felt it give, just enough for him to have to take a step back.

It seemed to take forever. Valis started to fatigue, but he kept pulling, taking another step back, then another, and another. Then, without any warning, as Valis envisioned it blowing up into a walled-in lake, he and Roba went flying backward.

“Valis?” Tavros’s worried voice filtered into his meditation. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” Valis whispered for his husband. “Just a few more moments.”

The moment he descended back down into the pit of his magic, he saw the lake he had envisioned. His magic coiled and undulated gently, lapping at the edges with much room to spare. He called out to Roba and heard him groan before muttering, “Warn a man next time.”

With a chuckle, Valis rounded the expanse until he found his father and helped him up before tugging him into a tight hug. “I would, but I didn’t realize it would work. I should have remembered my own training, and that which you gave me. It reacted to my will, surprising me, and we both went flying when it obeyed.”

“I’d rather not fly again,” Roba groaned. “The landing isn’t pleasant.”

Valis smirked, but refrained from teasing his father. “All right. We won’t go flying again.”

He paused and glanced at the lake. “Do you think that’s big enough?”

Roba glanced over at him with a blond brow raised. “You cannot be serious.”

Shrugging, Valis bumped shoulders with him. “I’m very serious. But I’ll keep an eye on it. I’ll be meditating every morning if I can get up early enough.”

“Just don’t tire yourself out,” Roba warned. “Make sure you get enough sleep.”

Valis smiled and ducked his head. “Promise.”

“Good. Now, go back to your husband,” Roba said gently. “You have much to do yet.”

“Yeah.” He gave Roba another tight, warm hug. He lingered a little too long but wasn’t willing to let go. Roba pulled back and squeezed Valis’s biceps. “Go now. I will still be here when you next meditate.”

Nodding, Valis took a few steps away, drinking in the sight of his dad, then opened his eyes to the real world. Tavros sat staring at him and grinned when he realized Valis had come out of his trance. “Did it work?” Then he tilted his head. “It must’ve. Your eyes are blue again.” Valis had pushed black magic into his eyes to read a few of Braywar’s documents that had literary wards on them, and his eyes had turned black. When Thyran complained, Valis had shoved golden magic into them. Thankfully, only his irises had turned gold, or he would be a little more upset than he was. Now, he was relieved. If they were blue again, Thyran would hopefully stop worrying.

Valis stretched his back, groaning when a series of pops and cracks sounded in the hushed quiet of the conservatory. “It worked,” he said once he relaxed again. “Now, let’s⁠—”

The world went black. The sensation of falling made Valis cry out. And the last thing he heard was Tavros calling his name.

“You’re really telling me my husband has never celebrated Solstice?” Tavros asked, his tone more demanding than curious. “What the fuck?”

Kerac gave him a sweet smile as he combed his fingers through Darolen’s shaggy brown hair before adjusting his husband’s head on his lap. Tavros noticed Darolen’s hair held a healthier shine than it had when Tavros, Valis, and their friends had rescued him from the enemy monastery. He had started filling out, and he no longer wheezed as bad. The medicine was helping. He still had dark bags under his eyes, though, and slept more than he was awake, but the Master Healer, Firil, assured them the medicine was the culprit for his constant drowsiness. Right now, though, he was wide awake and enjoying Kerac’s petting if the dumb grin he sported was anything to go by.

“Well,” Kerac said, “I’m unsure about before we rescued him from his birth father, but when we arrived in Cadoras with him, we arrived Sacrifice first, so we traveled through the month of Peace, missing Solstice by two months and ten days.” He shrugged. “He also spent his second Solstice in the saddle as you made your way toward the enemy monastery.”

“And I’m almost certain Roba had either never celebrated or locked him up if he celebrated with anyone important,” Tavros said. He groaned. His poor husband. Valis had had no childhood, and now that he was Grand Master Aesriphos, they haven’t even had time to discuss it.

“You look so pensive,” Kerac teased. “Why don’t you use the newfound powers of your station to surprise him?”

“Do you remember what happened the last time we surprised him?” Tavros asked, giving Kerac the stink-eye. “He almost had a panic attack.”

“Yes. Well…” Kerac glanced down at Darolen, running a thumb lovingly over his husband’s brow before looking back up. “Perhaps surprise him without shouting.”

Tavros flinched. “Yeah. That might be a good idea.”

“Mhmm.” Kerac smirked at him before giving his husband his full attention for a moment, looking at him with such love that Tavros, for just a moment, felt like an outsider who should leave the room immediately. But Kerac would feel bad.

Finally, he looked up, looking love-drunk, but focused on Tavros after just a breath. “You have the⁠—”

The door to the suite opened, and Valis poked his head through the crack between the frame and the door, grinning. “There you are!” His grin widened. “My three favorite people, all in one place.”

“Valis…” Tavros gave him a mock-stern stare. “Like your fathers would be anywhere else.”

“And what about you?” Valis asked. He came in and tilted Tavros’s face up for a sweet kiss, nothing too heavy in front of his fathers. Their fathers. Fathers-in-law. Something. He was still taking a bit to get used to now having three fathers, his birth father, and now Valis’s fathers. It was nice, though. Then there was Roba, who did his best.

Tavros gasped in mock-offense. “I’m not allowed to take a break with our fathers?”

Valis’s beautiful blue eyes softened, and he kissed Tavros again, a little more forceful but still just as chaste. “I would never keep them from you. You know that. But I’ll allow the tease. Just this once.” He winked and took a seat next to Tavros.

“Where have you been?” Darolen asked, his voice slurred with another wave of drowsiness.

“Apparently, our regular armor is ghastly and unfit for ceremonial use,” Valis groused as he rolled his eyes. “Tavros and I have to get fitted for ceremonial armor ‘fit for a Grand Master Aesriphos,’ and Korvan had an opening.”

He glanced at Tavros, and Tavros’s stomach dropped. Ugh. He knew that look. “You’re up next. Your appointment with the Master Armorsmith is tomorrow after lunch.”

Tavros groaned. “Fine. But Thyran needs to make it up to us.”

“I said the same thing.” Valis huffed. “Thyran told me to ‘deal with it’ before dismissing me, telling me I was late for my fitting.”

The pout that transformed Valis’s face was too adorable, and Tavros leaned in to kiss it off his face. It worked, and Valis let out a happy sigh. It still amazed Tavros that he could do that to Valis. How long had he been an ass to this wonderful man instead of making him sigh like that every day since they met? The thought of all the heartache he’d caused Valis tore at his heart and soured his stomach. Valis hadn’t deserved any of that.

He swallowed down the sick feeling and smiled when Valis flopped back against the cushions, pulling Tavros back against him. “Did you know that with every Grand Master Aesriphos, the Master Armorsmith makes a new armor pattern and changes the gilding from the previous Grand Master Aesriphos?” Valis grunted. “We’re going to look like gilded peacocks with the way Korvan’s eyes gleamed when he told me this little nugget of information. I was not impressed. I mean, what if we get it scratched? Dented? It’s awful.”

“You do know, my boy,” Kerac said with a grin, “that you will be changing armor for things that will be getting it dented and scratched. Ceremonial use is fairly frou-frou, low-to-no danger, and you’ll only be using your dulled ceremonial sword to tap on Aesriphos’ shoulders as you grant them promotions.”

Tavros glanced over at Valis at the same time Valis turned toward him. Then they both turned toward Kerac. “We never underwent that,” Tavros said. “Just our Ezhav ceremony.”

Kerac nodded. “You skipped straight from base Aesriphos to Grand Master Aesriphos, so you missed the advancement ceremonies you should have had between those roles. I suggest getting together with Ephala and Isophel to have them drill you on the protocols and appropriate actions for the different ceremonies you will be performing.”

“Ugh.”

Valis smirked at Tavros. “We have to, Tav. We can’t be seen as incompetent after how we ripped the title away from the previous Grand Masters. We took the title. We need to learn our duties to the best of our abilities before we’re called upon to perform anything of import.”

“Well, you did manage to talk Warmasters Isophel and Ephala into staying on as alternates in case we need to go away for anything.” Tavros nuzzled against Valis’s temple, breathing him in, breathing in the scent of home. “I’d like to take you to my parents’ farm on occasion,” he breathed into Valis’s ear, “so that made me ridiculously happy.”

Tavros’s breath on Valis’s ear caused Valis to shiver, and Tavros’s heart warmed. He loved that Valis was so responsive to everything he did. But now was not the time to get lost in his husband. Not in front of their fathers, anyway.

He snapped himself out of his stupor and grinned at Kerac, who had a knowing smile aimed at them. When Tavros looked, he smirked. “Darolen’s fast asleep,” Tavros whispered. “Want me to carry him to bed?”

“Maybe in a while,” Kerac said softly as he stared down at his husband. “I have been so long without him that I just want him near for a while. But I will appreciate the help soon. He should be comfortable during his rest and recovery.”

It had only been ninety-one days since Tavros, Valis, their friends, and their army returned from defeating the Sovereign Priest of Qos and rescuing Darolen in the process. When they had found Valis’s adopted father, he was nothing but a skeleton with the skin stretched too tight over his bones. Now, though, he had filled out some with regular feeding, even if he was just on a liquid diet for now. And Kerac coddled and babied him, not that Darolen minded at all.

Tavros watched them for a moment with a full heart. Valis must have caught on because he slipped his hand into Tavros’s and gave it a squeeze. They relaxed back and stayed a little longer until Kerac’s eyelids started to droop. Tavros grinned and nudged Valis. “Come on. Let’s get these two in for a nap.”

“We are not infants,” Kerac slurred.

“No, but you’re about to fall over,” Valis teased. “Come on. I’ll carry Father in, and you both can nap for a while.”

Tavros watched as they moved through the sitting room and across the hall. When Valis emerged from their bedroom and closed the door behind him, Tavros met him with a kiss and drew him into the hallway outside Kerac and Darolen’s suite. “Are you ready?”

“For what?” Valis had the most adorably confused expression, and Tavros didn’t blame him. They had gone through so many lessons of late trying to become worthy of the title they now held. The Grand Master Aesriphos was the highest rank in the Aesriphos army, and to attain it, Valis and Tavros had had to best the previous Grand Master Aesriphos who now were training them for their roles, even as they stayed on as Valis and Tavros’s alternates in case they had to leave Cadoras for any reason.

“For Maph and Jedai’s wedding,” Tavros murmured. “It’s happening day after tomorrow.”

“Fuck.” Valis sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “I forgot. How could I forget?”

“It’s not like we haven’t been busy,” Tavros said as he wrapped an arm about Valis’s shoulders. And that was another thing that had changed. Even their cloth uniforms were gilded with gold and blue thread around the collar, sleeve, and bottom hems of their tunics and the hems on their pants. They even had Phaerith’s crest emblazoned on their breast, and Tavros missed their old, plain uniforms with the minimal blue threaded designs on the hems.

“Valis!”

Both Tavros and Valis whipped around at the sound of Aenali’s shriek. Valis held his arms open for her as he said, “What is it, dollface?”

The young girl ran and jumped into Valis’s arms and planted a kiss on his cheek when he caught her. “I need a favor,” she whispered. “I need you to take me to Doyer.”

“But Tavros has to have his armor fitting tomorrow after lunch,” Valis said. “We wouldn’t get back in time for Jedai and Maphias’s wedding.”

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You’re more powerful than anyone else on this continent, including Thyran,” she deadpanned. “I’m sure you can take me and leave Tavros here. Tav doesn’t need a babysitter for his fitting.”

Tavros snickered and grinned at his husband.

Valis sighed with a groan. “Why do you have to go?”

“Because I want mom and dad to be here for the wedding,” she whispered softer. “They don’t have horses because they gave them to Jedai and me to come to the monastery.”

“Well, shit.” Valis shifted the young girl onto his hip and turned back around toward their suite. “I guess I can’t say ‘no.’”

“You’re right!” she chirped, her voice higher and more lively as she bounced in Valis’s arms. “You can’t!”

Tavros chuckled softly and followed, grinning at Aenali when she looked back at him and winked. What was she up to?

When they got to their suite, Valis set Aenali down and headed into their bedroom. He went into the closet, and when he came back out, he had his saddlebags, pack, bedroll, and a tent loaded up in his arms. He dumped the lot onto the bed. “Okay, ‘Nali. Take Tav so he can show you all you need to pack. I’ll be ready in about an hour.”

Perfect. Tavros wanted to crow his victory, but he remained stoic as he nodded and guided Aenali out of the suite, her small hand in his. “I didn’t think to fit you into my plans,” he said once they were a few yards away from the suite’s door. “This is going to be so easy.”

“And remember,” Aenali said, “this is a surprise for Jedai.”

“I won’t forget.” Tavros swung their clasped hands and turned the corner to take the hall toward Aenali’s room. “I’m surprising Valis, too. So you’ve just made things so much easier for me.”

“What surprise?” She looked up at him with her big doe eyes and pouty mouth set into a slight frown. She looked to be around nine or ten years old in laymen years, but as a mage child, she was a little older, but still quite childlike, even if she did act more adult than the adults on occasion.

“Valis has never celebrated Solstice. Kind of like his birth anniversary,” he said. “We know Roba never celebrated with him, and the two times it came around after he was free of Roba, he was either ahorse on his way from Evakis to Arlvor, or we were ahorse on our way to rescue Darolen and defeat the Sovereign Priest of Qos.”

“Ooooh.” She pursed her lips and leaned against his side. “That’s sad. So what are you going to do?”

“Well… you’ll just have to wait and see.” He winked at her and grinned as he pushed her door open. “Do you have any bags to pack your stuff in?”

“I think so? We didn’t bring much with us other than food for the journey since we knew Avristin would supply everything we needed.”

Tavros sighed at her explanation and nodded. “Then you’ll need a bedroll and other things.” He sent her after her boots and coat, and once she was ready for the chilly weather, he lifted her up and sat her on his hip so she wouldn’t have to run to keep up with his long strides. “Come on. Let’s get some gold from Valis’s cache and head to Cadoras Proper. You need things.”

“What kinds of things?”

He laughed. “Traveling things.”

Once they hit Cadoras Proper, Tavros took her to a clothing shop and escorted her through the door.

“What are we doing here?”

Tavros adjusted his coin purse. “It’s freezing, Aenali, and you’ll be traveling in this weather, and maybe worse, for more than a whole day and at a near-constant gallop to make it there and back in time. What you have isn’t fit for traveling. Only for short trips out like this or to play in the snow like you usually do.”

“Oh…”

“And you just had a growth spurt, and what you have doesn’t fit you well enough anymore,” Tavros noted. “Let’s get you outfitted. You need some clothes, a new jacket, a cloak, and warmer boots, and bigger mittens.”

By the time they got all of their purchases for Aenali, two giant bags weighed Tavros down, one for her clothes and one for her boots, cloak, and jacket. It made shopping for a bedroll, bags, and traveling toiletries a little harder than it had to be, and he wished he had thought to get those things first.

But soon enough, they strode into Aenali’s bedroom with their purchases, and Tavros dumped them unceremoniously onto her bed just as Valis peeked through the open door. “You two aren’t ready yet?”

“Give us a break,” Tavros said. “I had to take her to Cadoras Proper. All this shit is new because nothing she owned would have been warm enough.”

The way Valis’s face softened did stupid things to Tavros’s gut and heart, but he loved it, especially when Valis wandered in and gave Tavros a sweet, chaste kiss. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Tavros leaned in for one more kiss before turning to the pile of stuff on Aenali’s bed. “Now, help us pack this so you two can get back in time.”

Tavros dove in. They set aside an ensemble for her to change into before she left with Valis, and all Tavros could do while he rolled clothes and packed them into the bags was try not to let his excitement show. But inside, he was vibrating in place while planning his surprise.

Did he get Jedai and Maphias into the surprise, even with their wedding coming up in two days?

If he valued his life, then yes. He let out a wistful sigh and clapped Valis on the shoulder. “I’ll head to the kitchens and get you two some rations to take with you. Meet back here, or in the courtyard?”

“Back here,” Valis said.

Nodding, Tavros turned and headed for the dining hall. It felt good to powerwalk through the halls as it helped him get rid of some of his nervous energy. Though, when he finished grabbing their food rations and water skins, Tavros groaned. This is a stupid idea. He’ll have an anxiety attack, and I’ll have ruined his first Solstice.

“What’s wrong?” Seza asked. She came up and took half his burden. “You look like someone just face-kicked your favorite puppy.”

Tavros looked around and leaned in close to whisper, “I’m going to surprise Valis. He’s never celebrated Solstice before, and I’m fairly certain he doesn’t even know it’s a thing, just like when his birth anniversary came around.” Then he winced. “And I’m worried it’ll cause an anxiety attack like it did when we surprised him with his room assignment.”

“Then we should probably not scream ‘Surprise!’ when he comes back.” She nudged his shoulder and whispered, “Just be calm about it, and he’ll be fine.”

“Why are we whispering?” Zhasina asked as she came up next to them. “You two look like you’re conspiring against someone, and that never ends well.”

Seza giggled and leaned in to kiss her wife. “Tav’s got plans to surprise Valis.” Then she turned to look at Tavros with wide eyes. “How are you going to surprise him? He’s⁠—”

“He’s leaving for Doyer with Aenali as soon as I get these rations to him.” He grinned. “Aenali wants to fetch her parents as a surprise for Jedai. She wants them here for his and Maph’s wedding, so they’re taking horses down to bring them here.”

“Oh, gods. That’s so sweet.” Zhasina sighed. “What is the expression? Rotting teeth?”

Seza snorted. “Yes. But let’s not bring dental problems into this discussion.”

Tavros sighed and looked from one woman to the other. He shifted his burden and nodded toward Aenali’s room. “Let’s get this to Valis so they can leave. I want this to be a complete surprise, and we don’t have much time to get everything in place.”

“Get what in place?”

Tavros’s stomach clenched, and he turned to find Valis behind him. Shit.

“Everything for Jedai and Maphias’s wedding,” Seza said, coming to Tavros’s rescue. “Come on. Let’s get you and Aenali ready and get you out of here. The sooner you leave, the sooner you get back.”

Valis grinned and took some more of Tavros’s load, kissed him, and led the way toward the front of the monastery. “Aryn is helping Aenali get ready. We just need to get the food packed and load the horses.”

“Then let’s get you two underway.” Tavros frowned. “Though, it’s going to suck sleeping alone.”

Valis gave him a fond grin. “It’s just for one night. I’ll be home before you know it.”

The explosion knocked Camden on his butt. He groaned and flopped onto his back. This was the fourth time in as many tries that he nearly blew himself up, and the worst thing was, he didn’t know how he was doing it. Even worse than that was the fact food should not explode, or at least not powerful enough to knock him flat.

He stared at his once-white kitchen with the gray Formica countertops that were now covered in lasagna. Before, it was meatloaf. Before that, a burrito and a glass jar of pickles. He still had scars from that one. And smelled like pickle juice for hours, no matter how many times or how long he showered.

And it only happened when he was anxious or angry.

Earlier that day, he had an appointment with his psychiatry team, which always made him unreasonably angry. Or maybe it was reasonably. If his psychiatrist didn’t up his dose, it was his therapist who made him anxious by poking at all his sore spots. He swore the heifer did it on purpose just to make him anxious. As if he was a source of entertainment for the snotty woman. And if there were another team within fifty miles, he’d bail and find someone better. But, stuck, he dealt with it to avoid going back into the hospital where his parents preferred him.

But, now he was faced with cleaning his kitchen, dining room, and a good part of his living room. Again. Because somehow food exploded when he was upset.

If this is a superpower, I’d really like the anti-splodey gloves, please, he groaned internally. This is freaking ridiculous.

The anxiety still roiled in his guts, but despair shoved it aside as he picked himself up and started cleaning. There was no sense in showering and changing clothes until the house no longer looked like—well, like a pan of microwavable lasagna exploded. Noodles, ground beef, ricotta cheese, and tomato sauce covered everything and looked disturbingly like blood and flesh strewn everywhere.

And if he hadn’t been a surgical technologist for a year before his mental health took another nosedive, his stomach might have added to the gross that coated his kitchen floors.

It took hours to clean everything up, and by the time he was showered and dressed, he was already thirty minutes late for work. Again. And since he had no car, and the vet was only five miles away, he usually walked. Today, he ran as if his life depended on it.

When he finally threw the back door to the vet’s office open and staggered in, his clothes were soaked in sweat, and his lungs felt like they were about to collapse. His legs wobbled beneath him, and he had to force one foot in front of the other to get to the changing room to wipe away some of the yuck and change into the scrubs he carried in his bag. Since things had started exploding, it was safer to carry them rather than wear them to work. Otherwise, they’d stink, and working in soaked clothes was not fun. Wet scrubs chafed.

“You’re late!” Dr. Hill barked. “What’s the reason this time?”

He leveled a disappointed glare at him, a clipboard in his hand and a flustered flush to his saggy face. Camden cringed. “Lasagna exploded.”

Dr. Hill rolled his eyes. “Last week, it was meatloaf. Two weeks before that, it was a burrito. You really need to come up with better excuses, Camden.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Hill,” he cried. “I’m not lying!”

“Then get a better microwave,” he said, exasperated, but the twitch of his lips as he hid a smirk told Camden he wasn’t really mad.

But then he calmed and just seemed… sad. “But never mind about that, my boy. We have bigger problems.”

“What’s going on?”

“We’re still working on that,” he murmured. The evasiveness in his tone made Camden’s stomach curdle. He hung onto his next words but was disappointed when all he said was, “Head into room two and get Mrs. Miller’s dog, Beau’s blood work started. Tammy will be taking over for part of the day unless something needs my direct attention. I need to make some calls and fill out paperwork.”

Tammy was his head veterinary assistant and right-hand girl. She was nice, fair but didn’t take attitude from anyone, not even Dr. Hill. But today, she seemed extra snappy. Whenever Camden tried to get information from her about what was wrong with Dr. Hill, Tammy would huff in irritation and either change the subject or snap at him to do his job and not worry about it.

Finally, just before closing and after the last patient, Dr. Hill called a staff meeting in the back break room. Camden finished washing his hands, snatched some brown paper towels from the dispenser in the freshly cleaned exam room, and raced down the hall. When he got through the door, he skidded to a halt when he saw how haggard and worn Dr. Hill appeared.

Everyone was crammed into the small room, even those who were supposed to have the day off. Worried eyes turned toward him, and Camden ducked his head as he moved around people to try and find a spot to stand so he could see Dr. Hill head-on.

The veterinarian cleared his throat and scanned the room. The poor man looked like he was on the verge of tears, and his voice shook when he spoke.

“As many of you know, I have been going back and forth to the doctor for well over a year.” Dr. Hill cleared his throat again and patted his damp brow with a folded handkerchief. “As advanced as our technology has become, my health has continued to deteriorate for the last two years, and they couldn’t figure out why.”

The entire room went quiet as if no one even dared to breathe. Camden clutched at the hem of his scrubs top and bit his bottom lip. His heart hammered, and his chest felt too tight for his lungs to expand. The walls started to close in on him. All the air sucked out in a vacuum of panic.

Dr. Hill cleared his throat again, but his voice still cracked as he said, “I have cancer. And I only have a few months to live, if that. And thus… I am forced to close this clinic.” A single tear cascaded down his cheek, and he said, just above a whisper, “I’m dying.”

[ ] Not kidnapped. [X] Kidnapped.

Sort of.

Camden looked around at his “captors” and smirked. Sure, it was an accident, but he still couldn’t go home. All of them were hot, hunky men. One looked like a Celtic god with fiery red curls and green eyes. A second had a Native American look to him with tanned skin and straight, jet-black hair and soulful brown eyes. A third had flowing white hair down to his mid-thighs, was leaner, and looked younger than the others. And the fourth? God, the fourth. He was a gorgeous, muscular man with long, blond hair kept back in a long braid that reached the middle of his back and looked soft enough to use for baby blankets. Camden kind of wanted to climb him like a tree, but the elf seemed so cold, he curbed that urge with a vengeance.

“Uh, when can I go home again?”

The white-haired one sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Apologies. It will be at least a month in your time-keeping system.”

Figured. But camping for a month didn’t seem that bad. It wasn’t like Camden would be missed at home by anyone except his cat.

That gave him pause, and his stomach pitted. “My cat…”

All four of their faces dropped. “I am so sorry,” the one with red curls whispered. “If we could take you to your home, we would.”

Camden sat there with his heart in his throat—staring into the strange fire that didn’t give off any smoke and had golden flames instead of the normal orange and red—and tried to remember how he’d gotten to this point. Everything had happened so fast. He was on his way home from his psychiatrist’s that morning…

If the singing didn’t drive him insane, surely the boring commute would. The worst part was the singing came from inside Camden’s head instead of the broken radio. The drive would at least be over in an hour, but that incessant singing usually lasted two to three times that long. His psychiatrist did his best to medicate him so that the auditory hallucinations would go away, but it never worked. Nothing ever worked, and he hated it. But, he thought, at least it’s gorgeous. If I knew how to write music and could understand the words, I could probably make millions. Maybe I should learn… If only I had the interest.

Sometimes that singing even came as some strange duet with the two voices singing different songs, yet somehow, the two masculine voices meshed. But as beautiful as it was, it made focus hard to come by. And as Camden drove down the two-lane highway through the national forest, he needed his focus to avoid deer and other drivers.

The early spring air roared through the back windows as he drove, dense forest whipping by to either side of the highway. His driver’s-side front window had broken long ago, so the back windows would have to do to keep the unseasonal heat at bay. The outskirts of Shadetree were miles behind, and ahead were tiny towns and random farms—home, even though it never felt like it.

The pure forest air invigorated Camden, though, and lifted his spirits, helping to cleanse away the frustration of yet another irritating, pointless trip to his psychiatrist. His “help” felt more like a band-aid that was too small, too weak to do much of anything for what was wrong with him. Or maybe Dr. Rosenthal didn’t care, just wanting the money and to get Camden’s fucking problems out of his office as fast as possible.

Camden shuddered and let out a long sigh. “Suck it up, Cam.”

He went to turn on the radio before he remembered this was his friend’s car since the clunker he’d bought after Dr. Hill’s veterinarian practice closed had died a painful death last year. This car didn’t have a radio, or at least, not one that worked.

As he rounded the bend, his thoughts followed the trees and the strains of the song floating through his head. The sprouts on the branches bloomed in lush profusion here, making the clean scent of the woods seem somehow stronger. Everything grew more vibrant, from the trees to the cloudless sky.

And as the bend in the road smoothed out, Camden let out a startled shout and slammed on the brakes. A tall, silver, elegant horse stood still in the center of his lane, silently staring at him, almost as if daring him to hit it as the car’s weak brake thrusters squealed in protest. The rear end fishtailed. Camden fought to retain control. He steered around the horse, imagining himself as an expert race car driver. The car careened into the oncoming lane as the ass end scooted around. Thank God the road was deserted.

When he finally jolted to a stop, Camden was on the shoulder of the road, facing the wrong way, with that gorgeous horse staring him down. The dark saddle held intricate filigree printed into the leather and picked out in silver along the stirrups and some of the decorative embellishments. A bridle graced the beast’s face—no bit— the reins trailing along the ground as it took a step toward Camden. He glanced and wrinkled his nose. Him, not it. The stallion’s coat gleamed in the hot sun, nearly blinding him.

Camden shut the ignition off with a sigh and shaking hands and stuffed the key into his pocket as he got out and approached the horse with careful, slow steps. The horse regarded him with dark, intelligent eyes as he whispered to him. “Where’s your rider, pretty boy?”

Camden kept walking, taking careful steps until the horse stamped his hoof in warning. He stopped where he was and held up both hands. “Whoa. I won’t hurt you. But we need to get you out of the middle of the road before more cars come.”

It both did and didn’t feel strange talking to a horse as if he could understand every word. But he hoped his voice at least kept the beast calm.

He kept his voice low while inside, he was shaking. A car could come at any moment around that bend and plow them both down. He didn’t want to die by having a horse fly at him and snap his neck before getting mowed over by a vehicle. “Come on. Where’s your rider?”

The horse looked at Camden for a long moment as if looking deep into his soul. His chest clenched, and when the horse looked away and craned his neck toward the forest behind him, Camden let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d held.

“Back there, huh? That way is safe, so why don’t we get you moving in that direction, yeah?” Camden took a few steps closer, trying to herd the horse toward the forest. He didn’t yet hear any cars coming, but the curve in the road that he’d just barreled down could hide anything, especially with his focus planted squarely on the beautiful animal in front of him.

As if the horse understood every word, he neighed and tossed his mane, then headed for the forest in a slow, strong gait. The moment he passed the shoulder, Camden held out both hands. “Wait there, okay? I’m going to get something from the car, and I’ll be right back. Please… Stay.”

The horse snorted, almost indignantly, and tossed his head again. All Camden could do was take that as an agreement and race back to the car, pop the trunk, snatch the first aid kit from its depths, and rack his brain for anything else.

Just in case, he tossed the keys under the seat. The car was old, and no one in the country area he was in would steal it, and even if they tried, they wouldn’t look under the seat for the keys… he hoped. His friend would because that’s where he told Camden to store them in case of emergency, but not many else would think of it. But while he was in there, he grabbed his ancient CommLink Palm Device and shoved it in his pocket, grabbed his backpack that had his meds in it, and slung it over his shoulder. That was really all he had, so he called it good enough.

He backed up and looked, making sure the car was far enough onto the shoulder that it wouldn’t block traffic, then headed for the horse. “There we go. All ready.”

Again, intelligence flickered in the beast’s eyes, and he canted his head. He let out a deep, musical whinny, and as Camden walked toward the woods, he felt a warm, soft muzzle lift the back of his shirt and snuffle at his back. Puffs of hot breath flared from his nostrils and tickled almost as much as the horse’s wiry whiskers. Camden reached back and rubbed one of the silver horse’s attentive ears with a soft chuckle.

“Come on. Let’s find your rider.”

Before he could turn around to keep walking, the beast tugged on his shirt with his teeth and knelt on his forelegs, then lowered his ass-end down until he was laying on the forest floor. Then he just stared at him for a moment, and when Camden didn’t move, he let out an indignant snort and swung his head in what looked like an order for him to get on his back.

“Ordered around by a fucking horse. Max will never believe this.”

With care, Camden walked over and, hesitantly at first, sat on the horse’s back. When the horse seemed pleased with that, he swung his leg over and immediately let out an indignant squawk as the horse stood, nearly sending him back to the forest floor over the beast’s neck.

“You could’a warned me, you shit.”

A snort was the horse’s reply.

What the fuck was he doing on a horse, anyway? Seriously? But the silver coat under Camden’s legs and hands gleamed beautifully in the dappled sunlight filtering down through the canopy. His sleek fur was silky as Camden stroked his neck and shoulder. And the forest was particularly gorgeous today. So why not have an adventure on the back of a strange horse?

As they went, it almost seemed like the forest created a path for them where there hadn’t been one.

“I hope you know where you’re going because I’m lost already.” Pretty Boy nickered. It almost sounded like he was chuckling at him. “Hey now, no laughing at the greenhorn. Just because I don’t know where we are doesn’t mean I couldn’t get back out on my own. I’m not useless in the woods, thank you very much.”

Camden couldn’t help but rub the stallion’s neck affectionately. At least he was good company. He even “laughed” at Camden’s terrible jokes. After a while of going back and forth, Camden idly watched the reins drag along the ground. Since he didn’t know where they were going, he’d not even thought to pick them up. Now, though, he realized the inherent dangers of the forest floor and reached down to his left. “Hey, toss your head this way so I can get the reins, so they don’t catch on anything, okay?”

The silver horse turned his head far to the right for a moment, then whipped his head around to the left so that both reins flew back toward him. He almost missed them, but after a little scramble, he got them situated. Since the long strips of shiny leather hung loose and unconnected, Camden tucked them loosely under his legs. No sense guiding a horse when you don’t know where you’re going, Camden. Don’t be dumb.

Time seemed to stand still as they loped easily through the woods. As they went, the surrounding trees became denser. The leaves here were thick and lush on the limbs where nearer the road, they were still bare from winter’s grasp. The scent on the air was cleaner, somehow, and laden with a hint of summer. A cool breeze drifted through the boughs, rustling the leaves in a dizzying lilt of what sounded like whispers.

I’m going crazy. I must be going crazy. Leaves don’t do that. They either grow on all trees or none. They don’t just grow faster the deeper into the woods you go. Right?

Soon, Camden’s thoughts dashed away as they entered a clearing. In the center was a prone form. They looked to be covered with a green blanket and laid so still he was afraid whoever it was wasn’t breathing anymore.

“Hello?” The horse Camden had nicknamed Pretty Boy came to a stop a few feet away from the figure and laid down again to let him off. Camden grabbed the first aid kit, jogged to the person’s side, and knelt to draw the green blanket away. The cloth was velvet soft, and when Camden pulled, he found it anchored to the man’s neck with an emerald and silver chained clasp. His long dark hair covered his face and hands, but his body was definitely male. Even through the roleplay gear he wore, the masculinity of his body was unmistakable. “Hello? Sir, are you okay?”

As Camden pushed the man’s hair away from his face, he gasped. The man’s bronze face had paled almost to the color of cream, made all the starker with the trail of caked blood that ran from his temple down the side of his face. Camden carefully slid the man’s hair back away from the line of gore until he found the source of the flow. It was above his temple and not too deep, but with a look around, Camden couldn’t see any rocks he could have fallen onto.

“Pretty Boy, how’d this happen?” As if the horse could tell him. I ask the dumbest things of animals. I really do. No wonder everyone thinks I’m batshit.

In the next moment, Camden’s head felt light. Images flitted through his mind like a movie playing at high speed. It took a moment for things to clear, but then he saw it all as if it were in Technicolor. Pretty Boy galloped through the woods. He could feel the strong thighs around his sides, pressing and guiding him along as if Camden were the stallion. The forest again seemed to part for them, the path opening just as fast as Pretty Boy could run. From the side, a rock hurtled toward them. Then another, and another. Horse and rider ran toward the clearing where they’d have a better vantage. Master! I must save us! The rider’s legs twitched against Camden’s sides as a well-aimed rock struck him, and Camden felt a throbbing pulse in the side of his head, a phantom pain that mirrored the rider’s.

Once they broke through to the clearing, the rider’s legs went limp, and his body slid out of the saddle to lie lifeless on the forest’s carpet of soft grass. Pretty Boy whirled around and reared up, pumping at the air with his powerful hooves. Little red eyes peered through the foliage from the forest, and another volley of rocks heaved at them.

Master! Get up! Imps… I’ve never seen them in such numbers. Where did they all come from? This isn’t right. Master! Beloved! Sol’kyr! Please! Get up!

But Sol’kyr wasn’t answering his mental pleas. Anger, fear, and murder welled up in Camden’s chest. It burned into a seething hatred that made the world drown in red. Camden ran into the brush, chasing down the imps, and only after a handful died under thundering hooves did the storm of rocks stop as they fled in fear.

Camden’s mind became his own again, and he found that he was lying atop Sol’kyr. How did…? What… just happened? Panting, Camden pushed himself upright. The world swam in sudden vertigo. Pretty Boy’s muzzle came to rest at Camden’s side as he tipped over, and he brought him back up and remained there until Camden stopped teetering. With a sigh, he reached out and rested a grateful hand on the stallion’s face and gave him a fond rub.

“Batshit. I’m definitely batshit. Yup.” Pretty Boy snorted and nudged Camden a little more roughly than he had before. “Offended by bad words, too? Man, you’re more high class than I thought.” The horse nickered and went to chomp grass near Camden’s side.

Getting all that black hair out of the man’s face was a chore. He had so much of it. Before doing much else, Camden checked for his pulse. He was breathing, but that meant little more than that he was alive. His pulse, though, was strong and steady. “I wish I had a backboard and neck brace, but I’m not ambulance equipped.”

Another nicker came from beside Camden, and he shook his head. “Quit giggling, nag.” An indignant snort was his reply.

“Well, Sol’kyr… this would be easier for me if you’d landed on your back.” Then, remembering saddlebags, he stood, walked over to Pretty Boy, and rifled through them. His search got him a water skin with its cork dangling from a string, a few sugar cubes, one of which he gave to Pretty Boy for being such a sweetheart, and a few wrapped packages that smelled like food. The last made Camden’s stomach grumble. He’d had fasting blood work done that day and still hadn’t eaten.

Camden shook the water skin, grimaced, and looked around. “It’s empty. Are there any streams around here to fill it with?” The horse tossed his head and walked toward him. Without another sound, he snatched the skin from Camden’s hands and galloped off into the woods, leaving Camden there by himself, confused and with an unconscious Sol’kyr.

“Great. Just great.” Frowning, he wrinkled his nose and called after the horse. “I hope you know I have abandonment issues!”

Would that make Pretty Boy hurry? He already galloped like the devil was at his heels, so who knew? “I’m too afraid to move you. If your neck or back are broken, I could do permanent damage or even kill you. So… what do I do?”

The obvious answer still oozed down his face. Camden opened a few pads of gauze from the first aid kit, along with the small bottle of alcohol, and dabbed the blood away, cleaning up his handsome face. As Camden pushed the man’s hair behind his ear to get at his wound better, his breath hitched. The man’s ears were delicate and tapered to a very distinct point that angled toward the crown of his head.

Camden’s thoughts stilled. Whatever might have been going through his mind suddenly disappeared. With a gentle touch, he fingered the whorls and lines. There wasn’t even a faint scar anywhere telling him they’d been surgically altered. They felt whole, warm, and, most of all, real. “That, my friend, is one awesome birth defect. Or I’m crazier than I thought when I woke up this morning.”

His continued attention to his ear made the man’s breathing stutter. Another touch, and he moaned and shifted. Camden snatched his hand away and looked down at him wide-eyed.

“Whoa. Okay, waking up is good. Hey, Sol’kyr? Is that your name? I’m Camden. I’m here to help. Please, don’t move yet.”

His eyes fluttered open and closed again. His breathing rose to a more wakeful rhythm as he flexed his hands. “Where… where is Kormir?” His accent was rich and thick, but he couldn’t place where it was from for all Camden’s worldly knowledge.

“Kormir? You mean Pretty Boy? I think he went to go get water. He snatched the water skin from my hands and ran.”

Sol’kyr chuckled and sighed. “He is like that.”

“Does anything hurt? …Besides the nasty gash on your head?” He rested a gentle hand on Sol’kyr’s shoulder.

“Not that I can feel, no. It feels like I had the wind knocked out of me, however.”

“Yeah, falling from a horse while unconscious could have that effect. Can you move your feet for me?” Camden put his fingers in his hand and smiled. “And squeeze my fingers as hard as you can, please.”

Camden looked down at his booted feet and watched him roll his ankles. Though, he felt no squeeze on his fingers. His breath hitched. “Um, I told you to squeeze my fingers. Please do.”

He looked up at Camden then. His eyes were a stunning amber color that turned gold when the sun caught them. Camden’s lower lip went between his teeth, and he worried it a moment as Sol’kyr regarded him. “I do not wish to hurt you.”

“Uh… then squeeze gently. Just squeeze, please.” When he did, Camden sighed and sat back on his heels. His grip was gentle, but at least it felt strong. “Well, that’s about as far as my emergency medical training goes. I’m more trained for the woodshop and veterinarian practice than an ambulance for people.”

Camden smiled down at him. “Try things at your own pace, but I’d like to see your eyes soon. I only saw the one.”

He gave Camden a strange look but nodded and sat up. His perfect hair stuck up everywhere, with grass and twigs clinging to it. The side of his face he had lain on was red and bore the indents of his fingers. Camden scooted close as he took a penlight from his first aid kit and quickly shined it in each eye a couple of times. “Good pupil response, both are the same size. Congratulations, you made it out of an imp attack without a concussion. Or that’s my guesstimate.”

Just then, Camden heard the thundering of hooves, and sure enough, Kormir erupted from the forest with a whinny and toss of his head that sloshed water out of the skin that hung from his teeth. “There’s my Pretty Boy! I worried about you. Abandonment issues, if you’ll recall,” he teased.

Kormir snorted and trotted over, lowering the water skin into Camden’s waiting hands. “Such a smart boy.” Kormir nickered at Camden in a way that sounded like a chuckle, then went to Sol’kyr with a soft neigh of recognition and nuzzled into his shoulder. “Fine. Be that way, then. One man horse, yeah?” Another soft nicker, and Camden chuckled.

“Does he always act as if he understands everything we say?”

Sol’kyr perked a brow at him as he stroked his horse’s face. “He does. It is no act.”

“What?” Camden blinked. “You’re not serious.”

“I am quite serious, sir. For instance, how did you know my name?”

Camden blinked again and slouched as he tried to think of it. And the movie scene in his mind came back to light. “Uh, I heard it in my mind?”

“Are you asking me?”

“Maybe?”

Sol’kyr tipped his head back and laughed. The sound was deep, rich, and lusty. Camden could listen to that laugh all day, but it ended too soon. “He shared a mental link with you, then. It is rare for any horse to do so with anyone other than their riders and capable handlers.”

“So, um, the imps from the little dream thing are real, too? And your ears? Aren’t surgically altered?” Camden gave him a disbelieving look. His brows shot toward his hairline, though, and his hands rose to both ears. He spat a word Camden didn’t recognize and looked a little ill.

“I am guessing I wasn’t supposed to see those. Well, your secret is safe with me! No one would believe me, anyway.”

He gave Camden another one of his strange looks, but there was a soft smile this time that accompanied it. “Oh?”

“Everyone knows I’m ba—” Kormir snorted, and Camden got a face full of lush horse tail and changed his wording a little. “Insane. Everyone knows it. I just got back from my brain doctor, who, like every month before, confirms it.”

Sol’kyr chuckled, took a sip from the water skin that Camden handed him, and shook his head. “You have the touch of a healer. Healers are often not quite all there, but I doubt very much that you are insane.”

“I won’t argue with that!” Camden grinned. “So, you’re okay. I need to get back to my car and get it back to my friend before they have a coronary.”

Sol’kyr frowned a little. “Where are you from?”

“Do you want my entire life story as a traveler, or do you just want to know where I live now?”

Sol’kyr laughed in that deep, rumbling way of his again and stared at Camden with twinkling golden eyes. “I think I would like to hear the former, but I would like there to be enough time for the tale. For now, I will settle for where you live at this moment.”

“Well, I live about…” Camden looked around for the nearest tree, found the moss, and pointed what he hoped was northwest. “A twenty-minute drive that way… or, I would if I remembered to count how many minutes it took to get here from my car.”

“Ah, I see.” Something passed across his face that Camden didn’t catch, and he went on. “In any case, I think we should escort you before it is too late.”

Camden jumped to his feet. Panic gripped his chest, and he looked around frantically. “Too late for what?”

Before Camden could say another word, Sol’kyr pressed his against his powerful chest. Sol’kyr’s arms wound around him, holding Camden securely to him. His face pressed against his shoulder, and Camden turned it, tucking his head under Sol’kyr’s chin. It felt so strange. Camden took in a deep lungful of his scent and wrinkled his nose. Sol’kyr smelled of grass and blood from his tumble, but beneath that, his clothes and skin exuded pine and mountain air mixed with an exotic spice Camden couldn’t put a name or memory to. Trembling, he tried to pull away, but Sol’kyr held fast. Sol’kyr placed a kiss atop Camden’s head. His warm breath puffed against Camden’s ear as he spoke in deep, rumbled murmurs.

“Nothing will harm you with me near.”

“Yeah, says the man who was lying unconscious from an imp’s stone attack in the middle of a clearing,” Camden said in a flat tone.

Sol’kyr chuckled and sighed. “I will give you that, Camden. But I am not so useless as that has made me seem.”

Camden smirked and shook his head. “I feel so much better now… And you still haven’t answered me. Too late for what?”

“The veil between my world and yours will close soon, disrupting your way back. We must away now. Are you calmer?”

Camden nodded but tried to get away again. When Sol’kyr resisted, tears pricked Camden’s eyes.

“You are crying. Why?”

Camden wiped at his eyes and pulled away now that Sol’kyr finally let him go. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry. I’m fine. Let’s go.”

Sol’kyr frowned and looked like he was about to say something else but nodded and took another long pull from the water skin. He capped it and expertly tied it to the saddlebag as it would no longer fit inside. He regarded the first aid kit with interest as he packed it, but it was clear time was of the essence. So that got stuffed inside the saddlebags in place of the water skin and secured. Then, he lifted Camden onto the saddle, took up the reins, and vaulted up behind him with as much grace as a ballet dancer leaping through the air. When Sol’kyr settled, he held the reins with one hand and held to Camden with the other. Feeling his broad chest against his back brought a wave of panic, but Camden was afraid to make mention.

The night before kept intruding upon Morough’s dreams. Even as he sat by the crackling, smokeless fire cast by the fire stones, a stoneware mug of fragrant tea in his hands while the storm still raged outside, he couldn’t get his mind off the tiny man who laid so close to his left knee. He didn’t dare move him away, not after Camden fought against him to save his soul-mount.

He owed Camden a life debt, and already Morough was failing him. Camden sniffled in his sleep, but Morough smelled no tears. Wet coughs shook Camden’s body hard enough that he should have awakened, but he slept on.

Every time Morough looked over at him—just a bundle of blankets with red hair sticking up in all directions—he relived that scene from the forest. Lightning struck all around them. Tharidin lay crushed in the mud and debris, his back legs broken and skewed in sickening directions. Heart in his throat, and his legs aching like fire from their soul-link, Morough had drawn his crossbow and aimed a bolt at his best friend’s forehead.

Tharidin whispered in his mind, his friend’s voice echoing his agony, I love you. Do as you must.

“No! Morough, no!” Camden screeched the words between hiccups and sobs. It only made Morough’s duty to his soul-mount that much harder.

“He suffers, Camden. Both of his back legs are broken,” he had said, his voice raw and full of unspoken pain. He had tried to keep his voice level and free of emotion, but he failed and saw the truth on Camden’s sweet face.

Camden threw himself onto Morough’s horse’s face and neck, covering him with as much of his body as he could. Morough’s aim did not falter. Instead, his voice wavered as he said, “Move, Camden.”

“Sol said my kisses were magic! Let me try!” he wailed, still hugging Tharidin’s neck.

Let him try, my friend, Tharidin murmured. Then, if I am to die, he will live knowing he at least tried. But, if he succeeds, I will be forever grateful to remain by your side.

Morough swallowed hard, his heart breaking anew as he lowered the crossbow and dropped it to the ground. He didn’t have the strength to keep it up. “Do not let him suffer long for your trials.”

With another hiccup, Camden nodded and scrambled to his feet. The tree still trapped Tharidin’s back legs, and they bent unnaturally. Morough forced himself not to look away as Camden studied the breaks. Then he asked, “Can you move the tree?”

Morough’s memory retreated. He could still hear the sounds of Tharidin’s bones grinding together as he moved that tree. Instead of reliving that, he focused on the man beside him. He stirred, but as Morough rubbed his back, Camden settled again with a soft sigh.

He sat by the fire stones to keep vigil over the camp until the sun rose and cast light dimmed by the storm clouds overhead. With the sun’s rising, his younger brother, Li’nov, and Morough’s faithful, moody bodyguard and best friend, Sol’kyr, stirred and soon joined him at the stones. Velithor joined not long after, having risen before the others to tend the horses. None of them seemed keen on waking Camden.

Li’nov whispered as he poured himself a cup of tea, “What happened? You both looked like you faced death when you entered the cave.”

Lin got up to stare out at the near solid sheet of water that cascaded from the sky just feet away. Sol joined him on the opposite wall. Since they were far enough not to wake Camden with their whispers, Morough stood to join them to tell his story. As he recounted it, Lin’s face pinched with a pensive look.

“What do you mean he glowed,” his brother whispered, not bothering to hide his irritation. Morough wondered if he was still angry about not being able to access Camden’s mind or if it was the fact Camden absorbed Li’nov’s magic that was the cause.

“I did not stutter, Li’nov.” His voice carried his pride as well as his nightmare-induced exhaustion. “He saved Tharidin from death. He kissed him, and he glowed. He used magic to heal. Camden is a healer.”

“How does a human wield magic?” Li’nov paced in a short line, his path crossing from one side of the cave’s mouth to the other in his agitation. “It is impossible!”

Morough let out a soft, near inaudible sigh. “Either it is not impossible, or he is not human. It is that simple.” The caustic look Lin shot him forced him to look away. He rubbed his forehead as he leaned against the cave wall where Li’nov once stood.

Sol’kyr took a step away from the wall, a smirk on his lips. “So you owe a human a life debt because you couldn’t stomach putting your horse out of his misery? Am I ri⁠—”

All of Morough’s fury, angst, and sorrow lent power to his strength and speed. He launched off the wall and pinned Sol’kyr to the opposite with an arm across his throat. The fact that Sol’kyr had let himself be pinned was not lost on Morough, but in his current state, he only growled at his brother-in-arms. When Sol went to speak again, Morough pressed in to silence him. “That human saved the life of my soul-mount and best friend.”

Sol must have sensed the murder that welled up inside Morough, saw the anguish in his eyes, for he lifted both hands in surrender.

“Momo?”

Camden’s nasal voice made everyone stop and turn toward him with wide eyes. Li’nov, Sol’kyr, and even Velithor dissolved into breathless cackles as Morough palmed his face with both hands.

“Whad? Whad’d I say?”

The pout nearly killed him. With a soft huff of laughter, he dropped his hands and went to sit by Camden’s side. “No one has called me that since they were toddlers, Camden.” He turned a fond smile on him. “They find it amusing.”

“Correction. We find it amusing that Morough will let you call him that when he won’t even let his little brother call him that anymore,” Sol interjected.

“Last time I tried, I nearly got a bolt to the face.” Lin crossed his arms over his chest, although an amused smile lit his handsome face. His earlier irritation seemed to have dissolved with his laughter. Thank the gods for small favors.

“I ca’d help it. It’s Momo a’d Tharidid’s fault I’m sick.” Camden leaned on Morough’s shoulder and coughed into his blanket.

As Camden chatted with the others, Morough took stock of how Camden spoke and appeared. The nasal way he talked was amusing, but it worried him. Camden may have been crass in his speech—a human trait as they loved their slang—but he was always clear. His voice always sent shivers down Morough’s spine with the upbeat energy he always exuded when speaking. Now Camden seemed almost half dead.

He perked as Camden mentioned the need to blow his nose. That was something he could remedy. With half a mind, he rifled through a pack, drew out a fistful of the soft cloths they would wrap food in, and stuffed them into Camden’s hands.

A few moments of watching him later, he fell into his own mind, barely paying enough attention to catch when Camden stopped talking. His eyes took on a faraway look as if he entered his own little world. He waited, and when Camden pulled his knees to his chest, Morough wrapped an arm about his shoulders and pressed his face to Camden’s brow.

The heat that met him felt like he pressed his cheek to a fire stone, and he hissed. “You’re burning. I’ve never felt flesh this hot!” He cast a look to Li’nov and Velithor. One of them should be able to help Camden. Li’nov, however, turned his gaze away. He wouldn’t do a thing, and Morough wanted to throttle his baby brother for the first time in over an era.

Camden broke through his anger with a soft chuckle and weak shrug. “It’s called a fever. Humans get those when they’re sick. It’s the body’s internal engines revving up to—wait, that is so lost on you guys. Never mind. It’s the body reacting to an infection. But if the fever isn’t controlled, it can kill us.”

Morough’s anger nearly overwhelmed him. Anger at himself for not protecting Camden from the elements, even though there was nothing he could have done. Anger at the Gods for putting them in this position. He looked up at Velithor and tried to bank his vehemence. The hunter came over and laid a steady hand on Camden’s forehead. “I’ve only dealt with animals, Morough. I’m not sure I can do much for him.”

Camden laughed. “I’m not helpless, Veli. I can tell you how to take care of me, but a dank, damp cave isn’t the ideal recovery retreat. What I need is a lot of liquids, a lot of vitamins, warmth⁠—”

“But you’re already so hot!” Veli’s eyes widened to almost comically huge.

They went back and forth as Morough tried to cool his temper. Camden needed him to be strong and mentally sound, not railing at himself for things past and out of his control. Camden explained things to Velithor, and the more he talked, the tighter Morough’s arm wrapped around him until Camden squeaked. “Momo, you’re hurting me.”

Morough murmured an apology and relaxed his arm, even as he wanted to clutch Camden to his chest. “You are worrying me, Camden.”

Camden grinned and patted his arm. “I feel fine right now. I mean, I’m not about to get up and do a jig or anything, but I don’t yet feel like death. When I do, be prepared for a mean little boy. I’m not nice when I’m sick. The worse I feel, the more irrational I get.”

Morough nodded, cataloging all the information away. “What do we do with you?”

For a moment, he seemed normal as he listed off instructions for his care. But when that moment passed, that faraway look crept back into Camden’s eyes, and he leaned against Morough’s side. Morough’s stomach pitted.

“Camden? You went into your own little world again.” He brushed the backs of his fingers across Camden’s cheek. “You aren’t regressing that fast, are you?”

“Ah, no. Sorry. Just trying to think of anything else you guys might need to know in case I get worse. Oh, oh god… Oh god, oh god.”

“What? What is it?” Morough hugged him tighter again.

“I don’t have my medication with me. I took the last of them the night before my doctor’s appointment. That’s why I’m not hungry. That’s why I’ve been trembling so much. The withdrawals will get worse… much worse. And on top of being sick and mean… oh god.”

They all turned strange stares Camden’s way. Finally, Morough murmured, “Camden?”

Panic settled into Camden’s features, and he spoke so fast his words slurred together. “The humans think I’m insane. So they put me on high doses of strong medication. I don’t have those medications anymore. The bottles were empty when I went to take them the night before last, and I have been on them religiously for well over six years. I took them the night before Sol’kyr captured me. I’ve been without them for over forty-eight hours without a complete meltdown. You have been warned.”

And that was the moment where Morough knew Sol’kyr’s life was about to change, where his story was about to start. He felt it in his bones, but he didn’t dare dwell on it.

Morough stiffened and glanced up. All three of his friends met his gaze, then all turned to Camden.

“You’ll see. Don’t look at me like that.”

“I did not capture you.” Sol frowned, and Morough was certain no one else would recognize the pain in his stance or features. None but Morough knew the elf so well that he saw the clench of his jaw and the slight hunch of his shoulders that he adopted when emotionally harmed. Only Morough would recognize those signs as anything other than fury or disgust.

Camden glared at him. He clenched his hands into tight fists as soft blue magic enveloped his body. Everyone tensed. “I thought you were in roleplay gear practicing for a renaissance faire! I thought your ears were surgically altered to be like elf ears! I thought you were human! You tricked me! Then, you tricked me again into thinking you were taking me back to my car, but we were going in the opposite direction. Do you think I’m stupid, Sol?”

The hunch of Sol’s shoulders grew tenser, more brittle, and Morough ached for him, even as Sol’kyr put up that crass attitude he always did to shield himself. “You did not put up a fight.”

The lack of apology in his tone seemed to anger Camden more.

“You’re four times my size, asshole! What kind of fight could I have put up? I was scared, and you seemed nice.” Camden’s body trembled. His teeth chattered when he didn’t clench them between sentences.

“Camden, perhaps you should rest.” Veli’s eyes were wide like a frightened doe’s. His voice came whisper quiet and wavered. Morough waved for him to stand down.

“You tore me away from my family, my cat, my home, my life! What will I go home to in a month? A dead cat, pissed-off parents, a pissed-off landlord, overdue bills, and pissed-off doctors. That’s only if you lot let me go home at all!”

Sol sat there stoic—to all who didn’t know him as Morough did—save for a perked brow. His golden eyes slid to Morough, and that brow twitched. Emotionally hurt or not, Morough cast him a murderous glare. Sol’kyr snorted a laugh and stood from his squat. Without a word, he walked to the mouth of the cave and stood there, looking out, still laughing, his shoulders still hunched as if waiting for a blow. The look in his eyes as he turned was still that of a hunted man. Morough wanted to hug him as much as beat him with the nearest available hard object, but Camden still glowed. His body seemed to vibrate under Morough’s arm. He stroked Camden’s back and murmured what he hoped were calming words that he didn’t seem to hear.

Veli came toward them, his hands outstretched. “Camden! Please, you’re going to hurt yourself!”

Something in Camden broke. He started swatting at his ears, his voice a high-pitched screech as his magic flared.

Morough grasped Camden’s hands to keep him from clawing his ears off. Camden wrenched one hand free and aimed it at Velithor’s chest. Veli’s mouth opened in a silent scream, and he arced backward as he flew across the floor. He launched about two feet and landed hard.

“Camden? Camden!” Morough tried to hold him against his chest. “Camden!”

“My. Name. Is. KAIDEN!” he screamed.

“Gods,” Li’nov murmured. “He can’t be an elf, can he? A half-breed, perhaps?”

Camden suddenly started thrashing. One knee came up and caught him in the elbow. He tried to wrestle Camden to the ground but got the other knee to his groin hard enough that he grunted and tried not to lose his breakfast. It almost seemed—though, after Li’nov failed to gain access to Camden’s mind, it could be entirely possible—that Camden’s magic fueled and tripled his strength.

“Bind him!” Morough shouted. “Li’nov, now!”

Morough wrestled Camden’s glowing, writhing body to the ground. Only his quick reflexes kept him from getting kicked in the groin again or punched in the face. Even with as small as Camden was, he had no doubt from the strength he exerted right now that Camden could easily break Morough’s nose and blacken both his eyes in one punch if he could get the shot in.

Camden screamed, the sound shrill and enraged. It wasn’t the same young man Morough had taken to in the clearing. It wasn’t the same young man who saved Tharidin. This was… someone else, something else.

Camden screamed again. One of his hands came loose from Morough’s grip, and he punched him in the chest, knocking the wind from his lungs. Morough nearly lost his seat, but a warm wall pressed against Morough’s back. When he looked behind him, Tharidin held him upright. His horse’s face didn’t move from his back until Morough was able to breathe again and could hold himself up.

“You bastards!” Camden’s scream drew a worried neigh from Tharidin, and Morough’s horse pressed his face flat against Camden’s chest, knocking him down and holding him there.

To Morough’s surprise, Camden didn’t abuse his horse. Instead, he thrashed and screamed obscenities but petted Tharidin’s face as if he were angry at him but couldn’t choose between punishment or forgiveness.

This is not good. Tharidin sighed. He is in pain. I can feel it. Something is tearing at his mind.

You can feel his mind, my friend? Morough asked as he stroked Tharidin’s neck. Truly?

I cannot speak with him as Kormir seemed able. However, having brushed his mind to pass on my injuries…I have a sensing of him. He is…a strange one. His power grows.

Such power in such a tiny little human…

Indeed. Morough, if he keeps up, he will harm himself. He still needs magical bonds.

Is he harming you, Tharidin?

No. However, I cannot remain like this forever, and Camden is growing ever more agitated. It is not healthy for him to continue on this way. Bind him.

Morough made the call again and tried to wrestle Camden’s hands together. Camden shrieked and drew his knees up, knocking Tharidin in the jaw. Morough’s jaw ached in sympathy of his soul-mount’s injury as his horse snorted and backed up.

While Tharidin nursed his bruise, Morough straddled Camden again and fought with him. “Hurry with those bonds!”

Morough rode his frantic thrashes as Camden tried to free himself. Sol’kyr did his job by grabbing Camden’s ankles to keep his legs straight. When Morough glanced back, worry added another depth to the hunted look in Sol’kyr’s eyes.

“His ankles are bound!” Li’nov called. “Roll him over.”

Morough snapped back to himself and focused on the man beneath him. He growled the words, “Easier said than done. Camden!”

“My name is Kaiden!” he screamed. “Unhand me, fool!”

“He’s gone mad, brother,” Li’nov murmured. “Do not speak to him. Roll him over and let me bind him.”

“He is still in there somewhere,” Morough whispered. He grabbed both Camden’s wrists and clamped his knees to his sides. “I need help so I can still father children.”

Sol’kyr chuckled, but his amusement died away as he shuffled toward Camden’s head. With as much care as they were able, they rolled Camden onto his stomach. Then, as Morough wrenched Camden’s hands behind his back, Sol’kyr hissed and jerked his hand away from Camden’s head. And Morough felt certain none else heard the hurt in his voice when he said, “He bit me…”

“I’m on it,” Li’nov said. In the next moment, a glowing mask formed over Camden’s mouth and chin. The young man fought harder, but Morough rode him easily and kept Camden’s hands together. Once Li’nov had the bonds complete, he patted Morough’s shoulder. “Wrap him up warmly. There is naught else left to do until we get to Y’lon Stral.”

Morough shook his head and ran his hand over Camden’s sunset hair. “We travel to Lor’lecha. It is closer, and I will have Camden cared for before we return home. He needs immediate attention, and he will have it.”

Once Morough had Camden wrapped warmly in the blanket and settled near the fire stones, he sat back and sighed. The scathing look he gave him made Morough want to wither up and hide, but he forced himself to look away. “How is Velithor?”

“Unconscious only.” Sol’kyr sighed as he eased Velithor into his arms and carried him closer to the fire stones. “He will wake soon, I think.”

Morough wanted to go to him, to ease the hurt, but knew Sol’kyr would shrug him off. Instead, he focused on the others, people he could try and comfort. “Good. Get him comfortable. Li’nov, if you would, check him for wounds and heal any he has, please.” When he nodded, Morough got up to check Tharidin’s jaw, but his horse snorted.

I am fine. It startled me more than it pained. Tharidin pushed his head against Morough’s chest and neighed softly. I fear for him.

As do I. When we reach Lor’lecha, pray that our fears are laid to rest.

Your prayers are my prayers, Tharidin murmured. All shall be set aright.

Camden thrashed again. His bound legs flopped around until he was on his side and kicked at Morough’s ankles. Barely dodging the attack, Morough hissed. “Put him out.”

Li’nov skirted around the boy, dodging his legs like a dancer, and placed his fingers on Camden’s forehead. In the next instant, Camden went limp on the cave floor, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

Sol’kyr groaned. “When do we leave?”

“Soon. The rain should abate sometime this day.” Or, so Morough hoped.

Elan was one of the first to hear the plea. Mother was awake, and She was angry. He felt Her tremors as She rose from Her deep slumber. A ripple, as through water, riddled the land. A call from the Elite demanded all elves within the world herd the beasts through the gates, from predators to the helpless.

Mother’s words rang in his ears. “My children, flee to the Summerlands. Take what you can of my beasts. Save my children.”

Her words came punctuated with ground tremors. She coughed on the smog that polluted Her air. She choked on the oil, garbage, and toxic waste that polluted Her water. Her temper flared in volcanic bursts and wouldn’t be held off for long.

Elves raced against time, going to every remote corner of the earth to open the veils. With great care, they herded every beast through these portals to the Summerlands. And when the last elf was through, and the gates closed, Mother’s temper exploded on Earth.

The most dormant of volcanoes, including the supervolcanoes, blew their tops along with those most active. Ash and fiery rain spewed onto the earth in all directions. Lava flowed and coated the land in a thick crust of dead black scabs and living red blood.

This was only the beginning.

Watching through the scrying bowl, Elan witnessed every detail. Earthquakes shattered the land. Mountains leveled to nothing, and others formed anew as the human world’s armor shifted and collided into buckles of scarred earth. Buildings fell, broken and twisted into unrecognizable forms. Fires spread, and humans tried to flee to safer places despite the volcanic eruptions’ toxic smoke and ash. The highways had clogged with traffic. Accidents littered every street and thoroughfare. As most tried to get to higher ground, some found this an opportunity to loot deserted buildings for their treasures and money.

The earthquakes and other destructions lasted for three years, hitting all the world, from below the seas to the highest mountain, changing the entire landscape. Each time the land settled, great waves washed over the land. Every country was already without power and running water. Water lines had burst. Oil refineries and gas stations exploded into gulfs of fire. Yet, with every pause, water came in to clean the land and extinguish the flames.

The world was dark and each new sunrise brought with it new death tolls. Those still lucky enough to be alive tried to hide their mounting terror as they searched in vain for their lost loved ones and prayed they hadn’t suffered the fates of their neighbors. There was no building left standing. Children had died in their schools. Entire families perished in the safe houses meant to keep them alive through such a catastrophe. Military and private bunkers lay in caved-in ruins. Firetrucks that had tried to respond to the people’s distress laid crushed under the weight of fallen trees and buildings.

Elan’s heart hurt. Tears flowed down his face as he witnessed women searching in vain for their children and husbands. Children’s agonized wails pierced his heart as he watched them rock over their dead parents as they failed to wake up. Husbands and fathers carried their deceased families, trying to find a bare patch of land to bury their losses. He couldn’t watch anymore and turned away from the scrying bowl. It was too much to bear.

He ran to his father and begged for days to be allowed to help the humans, but each time Kennan turned him away. Forced to watch once more from the scrying bowl, Elan mourned the fact he was powerless no matter how much magic he could wield. He couldn’t go against Mother’s will. She was angry, and Her punishment was absolute.

In just three years, the earth was little more than rubble and shards of glass. Rivers of lava divided the land into segments. Roots had come up from underground and wrapped around vehicles, roads, highways, and anything else they could surround and squeezed. What stores of gasoline and oil remained had ignited, setting everything left ablaze.

More earthquakes split the world’s largest land masses into chunks, separating them forever. Deserts were now harbors. Forests were growing at exponential rates. New mountains had formed and reformed through the continuous land upheaval. What few humans prevailed against Mother’s wrath hid where they could. Most didn’t know what to do—some lived with their battery-powered camping gear that perhaps lasted a week, some prayed in frantic whispers and desperate shouts to their gods to save them, others cursed their gods for the hell they were in.

Elan begged to accompany his people back through the gates. The surveyors took great surveys of each landmass. Kennan led the first expedition, sending Elan with the surveyors to help chart the new landscape of Earth. King of the Summerlands and an elder, Kennan was Overseer of Earth. As the land’s most powerful magi scanned the land, Kennan sat on a convergence of ley lines and listened.

Mother was fully awake, and in Her first conscious thought after Her purge of the land, She was in agony. She couldn’t breathe. As Kennan communed with Her, Elan heard Her voice, soft as a spring breeze, gentle as a mother’s coos to a child, pained as an omega in labor.

“Return me to when I was young, my children. Take these abominations that have scarred me and return them to whence they came. Get the refuse out of my veins. What has happened?”

“You have slept, Mother,” Kennan said, his voice ringing through every elf’s mind. “The humans chased us off into the Summerlands with their machines and their lust for war. Their bombs and cars choked us. We didn’t know what to do but leave them to their destruction and hope they killed themselves off or created their own peace.”

“You left me, child. It is up to you now. That which humans have erected, destroy. That which humans have destroyed, rebuild. That which has been humans’ greatest blessings unto me, strengthen. Hide from them no more. You are their elders. They are but short-lived children. You were born to care for me and protect me. You have failed. Make sure this never happens again.”

“As you will it, Mother, so it shall be.” Kennan’s voice was shaky, unlike anything Elan had ever heard from him.

With a new purpose, Kennan formed the deconstructors—magi, who were the most powerful in controlling and reshaping the elements. These elves came from all over the elf world of Adradis, and under Kennan’s direction, banded together in groups. Kennan sent them to all the corners of the planet in the human plane in a combined effort to renew Mother’s body on the realm of Earth. Where they could create, they could also destroy with their magic. It was the destruction they sought. Anything the humans had made, from buildings to cars, highways to sidewalks, they reduced these and more to base atoms.

The process had taken fifty-three years. Elves still found Earth inhospitable. The air was too hard to breathe. The deconstructors worked with magical filters over their noses and mouths. They urged Mother to grow dormitories to dwell in during their work and begged for more trees to filter the smog from the air.

With most of the rubble gone, water magi pulled water from oceans, rivers, lakes, and streams to wash away the dust left from their work. Still, they sought garbage sites that lay hidden and filled over with dirt. For the surface, these were the last remnants of the toxicity humans had left. Aquatic elves, called merfolk by the humans, worked in the seas to rid the ocean of underwater hazards—similar to the ends the deconstructors above still pursued—while salvaging what lost beauty they could find.

Through all the deconstruction, Kennan allowed only a few things to be saved and preserved. Sites such as the great sphinx of Egypt and the pyramids to the Stonehenge in what used to be England—these wonders he ordered left untouched, and they remained surprisingly whole from Mother’s razing. Such ruins had been made before the world went to such terrible chaos. Paintings and sculptures, they salvaged these and brought them through the gates to the Summerlands. The sculptures in the sea they left to become reefs as the human sculptors meant them to be. They kept their promise, saving the beauty that the humans had made while wiping the garbage from the world.

While the deconstructors worked on the last reserves of human filth, the elders reconstructed Mother’s veil. Her atmosphere had reached dangerous levels and needed mending. This feat would take centuries.

With the mass reforestation that Mother nurtured into full bloom in such a short time, the air became cleaner. It became easier to breathe every day. The elves rounded up any human they found into colonies built for them. They cataloged and governed them. Elan watched with dismay as his brethren quashed revolts with magic that the humans just could not fathom. Something had to be done.

We should hit the gate soon, Liria murmured in Cervayn’s mind. The sun will sting. Be wary.

It will be fine, Liri, Cervayn cooed back. All will be well.

I have not seen the sun since I was born, his mount said. So long in the Twilight.

You will see it soon, my beloved, Cervayn said, patting his mount’s neck as they rode through the barely lit fields. We will both see it very soon.

Liria shuddered between Cervayn’s legs. The horse’s gait lengthened into a thundering gallop. The wind whipped through Cervayn’s hair, washing it back from his face. He was free. It was odd for his father to allow him to go anywhere without supervision, but he would be protected. Morough would be there, as would his mate and son. A part of elf history would be unearthed for all.

Yorin will be proud of you, my prince, Liria said softly. You are doing what he is too busy to accomplish himself.

He is always proud of me, but yes. Cervayn sighed. Hope and excitement had his heart beating faster. It almost out-beat Liria’s hooves. Father… I wish he could be there. This is bigger than our realm.

It will be—Ah!

Liria’s gait faltered, and she went down hard, tumbling to the earth. Cervayn was just barely able to jump from the saddle in time to miss being crushed under his horse’s weight.

Liria! He cried for his soul-mount. The horse, his best friend, twitched where she came to rest. Sharp pains seared Cervayn’s neck. Liria!

My… My lord… Liria’s mind voice came weak and rough. My… lord…

Cervayn hurt everywhere. His neck burned hotter than fire. He had rolled several feet on the ground. He struggled to get up, but his legs wouldn’t work. On his hands and knees, he crawled to Liria and stroked her mane away from her long face. Liria…

A blade stuck out from her neck. Blood flowed. Cervayn went to remove it, but that might kill his horse. It might… Liria’s breaths were so shallow. He shivered.

I’m sorry… Liria murmured. So… sorry…

Liria’s breathing faltered and, with one last wheeze, stopped altogether. Cervayn jolted. His chest caught fire with soul-searing heat, and then it was gone. He was left dazed. The electric spark he’d endured when he bonded with his mount was gone. It was gone. There was nothing left.

“Liria…” His chin and lower lip shivered as he stroked his mount’s face. “Liria, no.”

With a shaking hand, Cervayn removed the offending blade from his dead mount’s neck. The tip shined black with a rancid gel that made his nostrils burn. Even the scent of the blood didn’t dampen the stench.

“You are more agile than I had anticipated,” a male voice said from his right.

Cervayn gripped the end of the throwing blade in his fingers. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he sent it flying toward the voice. The cloaked elf dodged it easily with a throaty laugh.

“Why?” he demanded. “WHY?”

“The dead need no answers,” the cloaked person said, his tone amused.

Fear shot through him. Scrambling to stand, Cervayn stumbled a few feet. Pain seared his back and spread. It wasn’t a knife; Cervayn knew the burn of magic, and it knocked him flat. He rolled over and arched his back as agony surged through him from that spot, drawing a low cry from his throat.

The cloaked man stood over him then. Silver eyes glinted in the low light. His pupils were wide from the dim of the Twilight. The flash of metal caught his attention, making fear tighten his gut. The man flicked another throwing blade and caught it. This one wasn’t coated in poison. Instead, the shine of the metal streaked from end to tip in a fluid, unbroken line.

Cervayn tried to crawl away, but his hands and feet slipped in the dewy grass. The man followed him easily. Then, straddling his waist, he grinned down at Cervayn and pressed his booted foot into his abdomen, twisting his foot painfully into Cervayn’s gut.

Cervayn struggled against him. He couldn’t breathe. His fists were useless as they beat against his ankle and calf. The man laughed at him as he stooped to get a closer look, his hands catching Cervayn’s wrists as he aimed punches to the bastard’s face. It was like he knew Cervayn’s every move before he thought of making them.

“Feisty little omega,” he rumbled. “You should fight harder.”

“What do you want?” he screeched. “What?”

“I want you to be angry.” He chuckled and dug his heel into Cervayn’s stomach. “I want you to be terrified.”

It hurt to breathe. Cervayn’s lungs couldn’t expand under the weight of his assailant’s foot. Cervayn tried to scream in pain, but the man put more weight on him. It shoved all the air from his lungs in a single wheezed groan.

“I can’t have you leaving here, little prince,” he murmured. “That would be unwise for me. To suffocate you as I am, or to slit your throat? I could always use your blood. Unfortunately, horse blood lacks a certain appeal for my use.”

Cervayn’s already bulged eyes widened. He was a blood mage? There were no blood magi. They all died or gave up the practice. He struggled harder, but the man was like stone. He rode Cervayn’s thrashes with ease. Cervayn’s heart pounded in his chest like a blacksmith’s hammer to an anvil. The flow of his blood roared in his ears, blocking out the man’s voice.

The moment he released Cervayn’s wrists, heat seared his neck. A jolt of what felt like lightning zipped from the heat upward to his head and down through his shoulder. Waves of hot liquid coated his neck and shoulder. Cervayn closed his eyes and the weight lifted. He opened his eyes again, and the man was gone.

Cervayn blinked, and another face hovered before him. The new man hissed. His canines elongated with the sound. He placed his hand over the wound on Cervayn’s neck and looked around. His eyes were dark and lit up with night shine when he looked back into Cervayn’s eyes.

He was a predator, not a hunter. Cervayn was his prey. He didn’t attack, though. Instead, he shook violently and lifted his head. He yelled something Cervayn couldn’t make out. Was he saving him for something else? Was he going to keep Cervayn alive to kill him later?

He looked into Cervayn’s dazed eyes. “Remain, boy,” he murmured, his accent thick, even in the human language. “Remain with me.”

“Fangs,” he rasped. “You’re⁠—”

“A vampir, yes,” he whispered. “Remain. Remain with me. Be still.”

Cervayn closed his eyes and tried to relax. Everything hurt, everything burned. It was all starting to go numb. With every beat of his heart, he felt the heat in his neck ebb. The vampir hissed again.

“You bleed out too quickly,” he said. Then, looking up, he yelled again in another language, an ancient dialect of Russian, Cervayn thought. Another glance down, and the vampir’s handsome face grew pained. “Try… I must try.”

“Try,” Cervayn whispered.

The vampir’s brows furrowed until there were deep wrinkles between them. His fangs resembled needles as he used them to slash two deep gouges into his own wrist. Then, angling his hand down, he let the blood flow to his fingertips and painted it across Cervayn’s forehead in symbols and marks. He did the same to Cervayn’s chest. When he finished, he pressed his wrist to Cervayn’s lips hard until he was forced to open his mouth from the pain.

When he tried to thrash his head, the vampir dug his fingers into Cervayn’s neck until he squeaked. Then, magic flared from his hand, and everywhere he had painted Cervayn with his blood lit up brightly in a dark red glow.

“Drink,” he growled. “It won’t work if you do not drink.”

Cervayn barely shook his head. His eyes blurred with tears. He didn’t want to drink. Instead, he gagged from the taste. It filled his mouth and coated the back of his throat. Cervayn tried to breathe through his nose, but the vampir moved his wrist to block his nostrils.

“Drink!”

His eyes were wild. The vampir focused on Cervayn so intently he wanted to squirm. It was too painful; He couldn’t breathe. Swallowing, he gagged, and the red glow burst and dulled. He was forced to swallow again, and again the magic flared.

“Good,” he murmured. “Drink. It will work. It has to work.”

He swallowed the foul blood again. It coated his tongue thickly, and his stomach rolled. Bloody bile rose in his throat but was washed back down with another mouthful of the vampir’s blood.

The vampir pulled his hand away from Cervayn’s mouth, and the slashes to his wrist closed before Cervayn’s eyes. The blood that coated his hand absorbed back into his skin. He pressed both hands to Cervayn’s chest, and the magic warmed him to the core. The markings on him flared to life again, brighter than they had before.

Another deep shadow crossed over them.

“Father,” the other said. “He is an elf; what are you doing?”

“Trying to keep him alive,” the vampir said. “Get into place.”

“This is foolish,” the other said and knelt at Cervayn’s head. Cervayn looked up, and the most beautiful set of clear gray eyes looked into his. “So foolish,” he whispered, stroking a lock of hair from Cervayn’s forehead.

He placed his warm, gentle hands on either side of Cervayn’s head. The magic flared brighter than before, lighting up the area in a pool of crimson. Pain exploded through him. It started at his stomach and coiled outward to his limbs. The painted bloody markings burned, searing into his skin, even through his vest.

“How is he awake?” the son asked in awe. “He’s lost so much.”

“His neck has healed,” the father murmured. “Adrenaline fuels him, Danatarius. Be mindful not to soak up what has spilled. He will need it back.”

“Only if it works,” Danatarius whispered. His voice was like a prayer. “Only if it works.”

The burning worsened. Cervayn arched his back into the elder’s hands. He reached out, and his fingers grasped the elder’s robes at his side in an iron grip. A chain dug into his fingers. The older vampir pressed him back down and gave him a gentle look.

“It will pain you, young omega, but you mustn’t fight,” he said. “If this works, it will heal you.”

Heal? He cooked. His muscles contracted violently. His body tried to curl in on itself, but the vampir held him down. Cervayn drew his fists back to his core. The chain, whatever it was, fell from his fingertips as his hands flexed involuntarily. He let out a long wail.

“I cannot bear it, father,” Danatarius said, his tone pleading. He stroked his thumbs along Cervayn’s temples. “He must sleep!”

“No, my son,” the elder hissed. “If he sleeps, we may lose him.”

“Look!” Danatarius nodded to the area beside him. “It recedes… His blood recedes!” Wonder tinged his voice. His eyes widened. His lips parted, and he licked the lower. “It works.”

“Do not get excited, Danatarius,” the elder murmured. “It may take days for him to complete the change if it works at all.”

Cervayn whimpered, and Danatarius stroked his cheeks. “Hush, sweet thing. All will be well.”

“Let us get him to the Fold,” the father murmured. He patted Cervayn’s chest and ran his hand down the length of his arm. “He must be tended. Tonight will be the worst.”

“I will tend him,” Danatarius offered. “You have duties. I have none for the day.”

“Get him back, then,” the father agreed. He stood and brushed the grass from his leather pants around his knees and the long tails of his robes. “I will meet you at the Fold.”

Danatarius carefully lifted Cervayn into his arms and stood. He cradled Cervayn as if he were a beloved child. When Danatarius had him nestled against his chest, he turned, and the world blurred. The wind whipped his hair back. It was hard to breathe until he turned his face into Danatarius’s chest. The vampir ran so fast it felt like Cervayn’s skin was peeling off. They ran so fast for so long he wondered if they would ever stop. Then, he worried they would stop.

He feared when they stopped, he’d catapult from Danatarius’s arms. However, the vampir slowed and came to a halt as gently as he had begun. He barely jarred from his movements. When Cervayn looked away from Danatarius’s chest, his jaw dropped.

“Where are we?” His voice didn’t sound like his own. Instead, it was hoarse and deep. Cervayn licked his cracked lips with a tongue so dry he might as well have not bothered.

“This is the Fold,” Danatarius said. “This is our home, your home.”

It was unlike anything Cervayn had ever seen before. There were no spires or towers. Instead, the place had an earthy look to it. He could count seven stories, and it sprawled to either side for what seemed like leagues. How had he never come across this in his travels?

“My home—NO! I must get back to my father,” he croaked. “He will worry!”

“Calm yourself,” Danatarius murmured as he carried him toward the manse. “You are in no shape for such outbursts.”

Tears burned Cervayn’s eyes, and he fought to blink them away. “I can’t stay here. I have to go! Let me go!”

He was too weak. He wanted to kick and scream and punch his way out of Danatarius’s arms, but his limbs wouldn’t obey him. Danatarius clutched him tighter against his chest as he stood before the doors. They opened without his aid, and once he passed through, they closed the same way.

He walked Cervayn through endless hallways. Everyone Cervayn saw all had the look of humans, but different. Subtly different. He had only seen humans in pictures or when he had visited the Sun King in the Summerlands and viewed through his scrying bowl. But here, there was something different about them. Their eyes all shone with night shine when the light hit them just right. They were calmer, more collected. Each watched him intently, their lips parting as he passed.

Predators. They were all predators. Every one of them reminded him of a bird perched atop a high limb to watch him in his weakened state. Cervayn shrank further against Danatarius’s chest.

He shushed Cervayn with a gentle word before continuing, “No harm will come to you here. If you survive, you will be one of us.”

They entered a room, and the door shut behind them. Danatarius’s scent wrapped more heavily around him. He tried to focus, but things were blurring.

“We’re in your room,” he mumbled. “Why?”

“Yes, this is my room. One will be prepared for you if you survive the transition. Until then, you will reside with me,” Danatarius said. With care, he placed Cervayn on the bed and smoothed a hand over his hair. “What is your name?”

“Cervayn,” he whispered. “Cervayn Lorinar, House Mer’di, Crown Prince of the Twilight.”

“Mother’s bones,” he breathed, “No… no, no, no.”

“I must get home,” Cervayn stressed. “I must get back to my father.”

Danatarius gave him a sorrowful look and sat on the edge of the bed. His hands folded in his lap, but they twitched.

“You are in a state of calm,” he said as he stared down at his fidgeting hands. “Soon, you will begin the transition. It will be… painful. So very painful. The burning will return, far worse than you had felt during the spell. Your normal canines will be pushed out in favor of fangs that can recede into your jaw and sharpen to a needle’s point at your whim. Your eyes will itch and burn for days as they acclimate further into the night vision. The clothes you are in will feel rough and irritate you. Everything will be agony for days, though you may transition easier or worse than a human. We will have to wait and see.”

“I’m dying,” Cervayn said, closing his eyes.

Danatarius hand rested on Cervayn’s stomach. “I hope not. Soon, you will be vampir. We are not dead things, prince. We are alive.”

“You cannot be alive,” he hissed. “You are lying.”

Danatarius frowned and scooted closer. He took Cervayn’s hand and placed it over his heart and narrowed his eyes on him. “It beats, does it not? I am warm, am I not? I eat. I breathe. I love. I hate. I live.”

His heart thumped against Cervayn’s palm. His skin radiated warmth from under his soft shirt. With every word, his heart sped up a step. He was agitated. Cervayn had agitated him.

“I’m sorry,” Cervayn whispered.

Danatarius squeezed his hand and patted it. “Do not be sorry. Just know that if you live through the transition, you will not be undead. You will be alive. You will still be Cervayn, just… physically changed.”

“Why did your father do this?” he asked. His throat felt like it was full of sand, his mouth with cotton. “How did you find me?”

Danatarius dropped Cervayn’s hand and went to the table in the corner of the room. He spoke as he poured a goblet of water. “We have been hunting the Architect for eras. Our arrival was no accident. You cost us time, but now we have a lead, and that is not something we have had in a very long time. My father, Qordan, is our king… of sorts.”

“Of sorts?” he asked as Danatarius helped him sit up to drink.

“He is our leader for all he is worth. He is the Eldest Elder, the oldest of our kind, the first turned.” As Cervayn finished the water, Danatarius set the goblet aside and helped Cervayn lie back down. “I am one of the lucky few who was born this way.”

Cervayn closed his eyes again. His lids were weighted down, or so it felt. He still couldn’t move his limbs. Breathing was easier, but it was still painful. His father’s face flashed before his mind. Yorin would be devastated if Cervayn didn’t go home. Morough and Kaiden would be worried when he didn’t arrive at the estate as expected.

“Few?” he asked. It was hard to think, let alone speak. Yet, with all his mental strength, he tried to focus on the conversation.

“It is hard for us to produce children,” he said, “perhaps harder than it is for elves.”

Cervayn shivered, and in the next moment, he was covered with a warm blanket. Danatarius tucked it around him and stroked his cheek with the backs of his fingers.

“Sleep, Cervayn,” he murmured. “Sleep, now. The transition will wake you soon enough.”

“I’m afraid,” he whimpered. He clenched his jaw against a new surge of tears.

The bed dipped and released as he stood. It sank on the other side and moved as Danatarius crawled across the bed. Soon, Danatarius lifted the blankets and pressed his warm body to Cervayn’s side. The blanket came down again, and Danatarius wrapped Cervayn up against him.

“It will be frightening,” he said against Cervayn’s ear. “It will be excruciating if you make it that far, but know you will not be alone. I will not leave you to fight this battle alone unless you ask it of me.”

The hall slowly filled with people. As the new Eldrake, Xastrian Senuvesal waited with an outward appearance of calm aloofness that befitted his station while the twelve Drakeir—the nobles appointed to represent the masses in Court—filed past the throng and into the central circular chamber to take their appointed seats before his throne.

Today’s court session, he was told, was to be mild. Boring. Something he could have missed entirely without censure. But his father, the retired Eldrake and Xastrian’s official adviser, whispered to him that if he failed to show, it would be a black mark on the start of his reign. He would be seen as weak, negligent, and disinterested in his people and their plights.

While his father hid among the pink granite pillars with their gray veins like permanent representations of lightning strikes, Xastrian forced his attention to remain opaque but open, a juxtaposition his father taught him well. Opaque to hide his thoughts and boredom, open to make himself appear approachable. He watched with feigned interest as the Drakeir took their positions just inside the middle ring of crushed diamonds pressed into clear enamel that gave the central perimeter a dazzling quality. The Drakeir were seen as untouchable here. Knights for the cause, as the humans might have put it. They circled the black and green jade fighting dragons in the center, laid in white marble—the symbols of his grandparents, the apparent first Dragon Royals, his grandfather in black, and grandpater in green to match his eyes. Having them battle in the midst of court amused him, considering his grandmother’s multiple defeats and recent permanent death. Though, he shouldn’t amuse himself with their past at such a time.

He waited until the scribe settled into his trance in the corner before standing to greet his Drakeir—his fiancé, Asseisal, in particular, who held the position of Wisedrake, the Head of the Dragon Court. He should have been leading the proceedings, but instead, Eliariel, one of the two Vordrakes, the two representatives for the nobles, stood and bowed to him while Xastrian’s fiancé looked none-too-pleased. It may be an arranged political marriage, but that didn’t take the sting out of the obvious slap in the face.

“I trust there is a grand reason our Wisedrake is not leading proceedings this day, Eliariel,” Xastrian said. His terse, commanding voice boomed through the circular chamber’s acoustics and instantly silenced the entire assembly. All eyes immediately turned toward him, and every soul bowed, including the other eleven Drakeir who had remained seated when Eliariel stood. Now, they settled back into their chairs with barely disguised fear. “This is highly irregular.”

Eliariel bowed again and stepped forward into the circle’s center. “It is the belief of the Noble Quarter, my king, that as your fiancé, Asseisal is now unfit for the position of Wisedrake and should step down. His political career should be suspended until your marriage, as it colors his ability to⁠—”

Xastrian cut him off with a harsh bark of laughter. “Surely you jest.” Xastrian stood and narrowed his eyes as he met the gaze of each of his twelve Drakeir. “Asseisal will soon be your Eldrakar, and you fear being Wisedrake will color his perceptions of court? He and I have been courting for nearly an era. Almost a full thousand cycles and you are bringing this up now? What has changed, Eliariel?”

He went quiet a moment as Eliariel fought to regain his composure. But before he fully recomposed himself, he attacked again. “I can only assume you and the other Drakeir bullied him into submission for an attack against him in court. Sit down, Vordrake, or I will remove you from this court.”

Asseisal finally lifted his eyes and gave Xastrian a brief smile of thanks before rising to take his place at the head of the day’s proceedings. Xastrian paid only enough attention to answer questions while his blood pressure settled into normalcy again. He was almost calm by the time court finished, but outwardly none would know he still boiled inside.

“Thank you for defending me, darling,” Asseisal murmured when he neared. The crowds surrounded them as everyone mingled to speak on the day’s court topics en masse. His lover squeezed his hand, a deft and imperceptible move to the masses with the way Asseisal had positioned his body to shield them from prying eyes. It almost made Xastrian wonder whether Asseisal was ashamed of showing public affection. Then again, Xastrian did not want affection. Not from a political match. He quickly cleared that thought from his mind and smiled at his fiancé.

“What else would I have done?” Xastrian asked. Truly the question perplexed him. What kind of idiot would commit political suicide by not defending his future co-ruler in a court flounce?

Asseisal went to answer when light exploded around them. Xastrian’s heart fell through the floor. He glanced up, but all he saw was an almost constant pulse of magic in every color: Red, blue, green, gold, and more. The pulses came as strobes that sent Xastrian’s stomach to roiling. What is happening?

Something sharp hit Xastrian’s back. It burned like a lightning strike in its swiftness, then spread like sticky fire. His breath left him in a long, pained moan that was lost amid the shouts that echoed through the court. His legs gave out. The only thing that kept him from hitting the floor was Asseisal. Xastrian’s vision blanked out, but he heard his fiancé scream for a healer.

His vision returned in flashes of light and void. The face of Garambor—the ground army’s Crest, or General in human terms—leaned in until Xastrian felt his breath upon his face. He murmured something, and in the next flash, was gone. Parion’s face came, the Wingleader of the aerial force touched his chest, then manhandled him onto his front. Strong hands molested his back.

Then everything came back with a clarity that could only be brought with pain. Searing heat flooded Xastrian’s back. He smelled the acrid scent of scorched flesh rising from him. His throat grew raw with his hoarse screams as his Wardrake battle tended him. It wasn’t anything close to finesse, but it would keep him from dying until those loyal to him could get him to the healer’s wing.

The intense pain made the lights too bright. Motion seemed to leave trails. Sounds echoed in warped ways that made his head spin. He shuddered, and Parion wrenched his head to the side so he could vomit without covering his future husband in it.

“Flight! Lay cover!” Parion bellowed. “Claws! To me!”

The Claws were the ground army’s elite fighters, those who had studied both elven war tactics and mastered most forms of human martial arts. That the Wingleader would call the ground forces rather than his own aerial force made little sense to Xastrian’s blasted mind.

He had little time to dwell on such nonsense, as with his next breath, those rough hands snatched him from Asseisal and against Parion’s dragon scale armor. “Shields!” The Wingleader snapped up his own, and an instant later, six others followed, encircling them both in a rainbow sphere that Parion then used as a battering ram to mow down anyone in their way as he bolted for the arched doorway and the two massive, heavy black granite and Damascus steel doors.

Xastrian’s last conscious thought echoed with the shouts of his fiancé, “Where are you taking him?”

He woke sometime later in his chamber in the Royal Quarter. The lights remained on but low to grant his bedroom a gentle glow. Proof that his family tended him, as they knew his fear of the dark. As a testament to that proof, at the foot of his bed sat his grandfather, Va’asdrian, his eyes staring off into the hearth’s gentle purple fire.

“Grandfather?”

His voice barely sounded like his own, as if he hadn’t had a drop of water in epochs. He stretched on his bed, and when he opened his eyes, Va’asdrian stood over him with a goblet of clear fluid. He helped Xastrian sit up and pressed the cool crystal to his lips. “How do you feel, my grandson?”

Xastrian didn’t answer until he had drained the entire goblet of its chilled water. “Like I have slept far too long in the same position.”

His grandfather chuckled and smoothed a hand over his hair. “That tends to happen after your first assassination attempt.”

And then it hit him. Assassination attempt. Someone had tried to kill him. And they did it in broad daylight, in the middle of court with hundreds of people present. Such brazen acts meant he was in danger every moment unless the culprit was caught.

“Did they⁠—”

“No,” his grandfather murmured. “Your assassin is still at large.”

Wonderful. The only thing that kept Xastrian from groaning, or crying for that matter, was over ten thousand cycles of court training. He allowed himself a small shudder in his grandfather’s presence and slid from the comfort of his bed. “I must bathe. I have things to attend.”

Va’asdrian gave him a concerned look. “Your itinerary for the next few days has been cleared. What could you possibly have to attend?”

What, indeed? Xastrian waved that away with a deceptively steady hand and headed for his bathing room. “I must see my brood.”

Tending their dragons was always a priority for the Dragon King. It was one thing that was never questioned, one thing that held more weight than any other duty an Eldrake possessed. His grandfather bowed and left the room with that singular mention, leaving Xastrian alone with his thoughts. But before he could enjoy his solitude and put his plan into place, he needed to bathe, dress, and eat.

The dagger brought cold fire screaming through Xastrian’s back. The stunned faces of those gathered at the court seemed to wobble, twisting and contorting into grotesque masks that roiled Xastrian’s stomach and made his head swim. Nothing seemed real except the slicing pain that spread through his back and seemed to freeze his insides. Or was that fear that froze him so? His mind refused to work, only telling him he was dying. Could it be these were his last breaths? Could he die this swiftly?

Time stretched on but seemed to move so fast that he couldn’t keep up. Was that sinister laughter all around him or frantic screams? Xastrian couldn’t tell. His back grew sticky from his own scalding blood pouring out of him. His vision swam, flashes of void and light. He heard someone scream for a healer. Then, he knew not how long, but unimaginable pain flared through skin, muscle, and bone as someone battle tended him. His Wingleader’s face, hard with worry and cold fury, flashed through his mind.

Oh… Xastri… That’s over now. You’re not there anymore.

And then everything returned with the sound of Xastrian’s new alpha’s voice. Velithor Adonel, Xastrian’s darling hunter, squeezed his hand in a silent show of comfort. Xastrian kissed the back of his mate’s head to show his thanks for bringing him out of his mind’s trap.

Everything seemed to flit through Xastrian’s thoughts. Now that he sat astride his soul-mount, a giant black dragon named Ta’emir, his soul felt complete and at peace, washing away those awful memories, but it made him feel as if he were forgetting something important. He gazed out over the landscape as that last feeling washed over him. Velithor, a competent and kind hunter, sat before him, as eager to see everything he could as an inquisitive puppy. Velithor’s eyes seemed to look everywhere. His head swiveled this way and that, and his exuberance kept Xastrian’s mind from straying too long from him. How was he to keep dark thoughts to his chest when such a bright ball of sunshine as this precious elf exuded pressed against his chest? Velithor let out whooping sounds with his excitement every time Ta’emir dove from great heights only to swoop back up and climb toward the mountain aerie where the city of Elhrovin resided, marking the capital of the Dragon Highlands.

Their ride neared its end, and Xastrian’s heart hurt that they couldn’t spend more time in the air. First, he had to know if his forces had made any headway with the hunt for his would-be assassin during his absence. Next, he needed to show Velithor the splendors of the city and introduce him to his father and grandfather. He needed to do so many things, but when Velithor turned his head, white hair playing in the wind, and grinned behind his mask, so completely happy that his blue eyes sparkled behind his protective eyewear, Xastrian’s heart melted, and all thoughts turned toward his beloved.

It didn’t last long, however. Their dragon ride had been a necessity. Velithor’s soul-mount, a horse named Zia’nal, had been lost, waiting for her rider to emerge from the woods where he no longer resided. Their days in that pocket dimension still weighed heavily on Xastrian’s shoulders and made this short-lived freedom in the air, a complete joy ride, into a cleansing for his soul. Though now that they were finished and Zia’nal galloped her way toward the Dragon Highlands, it was time to attend to duty. Xastrian only wondered if Velithor would be up for it. The one thing he knew of Velithor’s personality above all else was his penchant for crippling anxiety. He only hoped it could be allayed or at least humanely dealt with as soon as possible.

As they touched down, Xastrian’s heart ached. While it only lasted a few days, the time he and Velithor spent in that cave felt like years and moments at once. Years, because he missed flying, his material things, the comforts of home that he was used to, and his soul mounts—his beloved dragon, Ta’emir, and his horse, Ralis. Moments because he never wanted that time with Velithor to end—time where he had his alpha all to himself without the demands of his kingdom weighing on his mind and taking him away from his passions. Xastrian wondered what else he would have learned if they were still there. But now, even as that ache settled into his chest, he again remembered his duties. He had to address the issue of his assassination attempt and introduce Velithor to his family and eventually to the Court. So many things had to be done. But again, his mind spun right back to his alpha. What would have happened if they’d not escaped? If they had had to forge a life in that dimensional prison?

Thinking that way will drive you mad, Velithor reminded him. The telepathic thought from his lover anchored Xastrian’s thoughts, and their soul-bond swelled with it. Velithor continued, sounding so gentle it bought a new wave of love that made Xastrian breathless, Now, you get to teach me about your world. I can always kidnap you back to the forest when you have the time and want. And there will be less stress because we will not be trapped.

Xastrian snickered. Somehow, being trapped with you does not seem like a bad idea.

Ta’emir lowered to the ground and spread his body as flat as possible so the elves could disembark their flight. Xastrian dismounted with ease, and once he was down, Velithor mimicked his dismount, sliding down Ta’emir’s wing. While he was less than graceful, it was leagues better than most first-time fliers.

“You learn quickly,” Xastrian said as he helped Velithor off Ta’emir’s wing. “Most end up on their backsides their first dismount.”

Velithor grinned and went to stroke Ta’emir’s sleek neck. “Even if I did land on my backside, it would be worth it. That was the most amazing experience.”

“You will be able to have such experiences as often as you wish, though please never go alone until you have been properly trained to fly.”

“Oh, I’d never leave without you,” Velithor promised. “Not until I know what I’m doing. While I’m positive Ta’emir would catch me if I ever fell, I’d not want to give him that kind of heart failure.”

Ta’emir snorted and butted his snout to Velithor’s side, making the hunter laugh and stagger. You are wise, young one. I like you.

“I like you too.” Velithor’s laughter subsided as he stroked Ta’emir’s cheek. “I’ve never seen any being so gorgeous.”

“Oh, please stop inflating that beast’s ego,” Xastrian teased. “If you keep that up, he will no longer fit in his nest.”

Grinning, Velithor looked around the brood hall and tilted his head. “There don’t seem to be that many nests in here.”

“There are other brood halls,” Xastrian explained. “This one is mainly for the top elite and royal mounts. There are also hatcheries and other quarters built into the mountains. Also, a good portion of the dragons roost elsewhere and only come when they wish to find a bond mate.”

“I see.” Velithor frowned, his eyes still scanning the brood hall.

“What is it, my heart?”

“Where are Lurir and the cubs?” he asked. “I don’t see them, and their scents are gone.”

“I do not know.” Xastrian pulled Velithor to him and kissed his forehead. “Not to worry. We will find them, even if I have to send out a search party.”

“I forgot all about them when I saw Ta’emir.” His frown deepened, and he leaned his forehead into Xastrian’s shoulder. “How could I have been so careless?”

“Lurir is a smart pup,” Xastrian soothed. “I am sure he is taking care of those cubs like they are a treasure.”

A soft, shrill whine filtered into the cave, and Velithor stiffened. Xastrian felt Lurir over their bond just as Velithor gasped and darted out of the cave. Xastrian struggled to keep up with his swift hunter but jerked to a stop a few paces behind when he saw the state Lurir was in, the cubs trailing not far behind, being herded by other wolves.

Lurir limped toward them, his left hind leg nearly useless. Flanking him on either side and behind marched three of the resident wolves, each with a fish in their maws. They growled low but remained by Lurir’s side as if they understood that Xastrian and Velithor were no threat.

As Velithor neared with cautious steps, all four wolves’ ears perked. Lurir whined again. Tails whipped in the wind. Xastrian knew that the hunter spoke to them, though he was not privy to their conversation. Being left out of something that made his lover so emotional nearly broke Xastrian’s heart.

Velithor fell to his knees a few steps from the pup and held out his hands as if giving the other wolves time to acclimate to him. Lurir limped as fast as he could. Lacerations gouged his neck and shredded so much of his coat that little of him remained gray due to so much blood. But, as hurt as he was, all the pup did was wiggle his backside with the force of his wagging tail and bathe Velithor’s face with kisses, all the while issuing shrill, pained whines as that tail’s thrashing must have been excruciatingly painful.

Velithor’s gentle hands softly glowed as he stroked the wolf. Pride welled in Xastrian’s chest as he watched his alpha wield magic without thought. His hunter took care as he avoided some of the kisses to inspect the wounds and soothe the pup’s pain. With each stroke, the whines became less shrill until they were sounds of pure joy.

“It’s okay, Lurir,” Velithor murmured. “You’ll be all better in a few moments. Sit still! I can’t reach if you’re butt’s wiggling that fast!”

Xastrian chuckled. “That pup knows how to get himself into trouble.”

“Don’t blame it on him.” Velithor sighed as he worked on the wolf’s hip. “We left him alone with hungry cubs.”

“They won’t be hungry for long with those enormous fish. Look at them go! You would swear it has been days since they last ate.”

Velithor sat back on his heels and stroked Lurir’s fur as the pup ate his own fish. “Running a wolf ragged will do wonders for your appetite. Isn’t that right, baby?”

Lurir didn’t respond, too into wolfing down his fish to care what the elves spoke about. Lifting his gaze from Lurir, Xastrian regarded the three other wolves and rolled a hand toward them.

“What of the other wolves?” he asked.

“He needs to be with his own,” Velithor said, sadness touching his voice. “This pack has adopted him.”

Something in Xastrian’s heart sank. Was it sadness for Velithor or his own want to keep Lurir close? He frowned. “Will you be okay with this, Veli?”

“There’s no place for him in a palace. I will see him again.”

At that, Velithor was again lost in his own world, shared only by the animals surrounding them. Lurir whined and rolled onto his back, exposing his blood-encrusted underside. Velithor sucked in a breath as he rubbed the pup’s belly.

“Such a good boy,” the hunter cooed.

With that praise, Lurir went wild with the kisses until Velithor laughed and hugged the wolf tight against his chest. He buried his face in Lurir’s fur and scrubbed his hands through the thick, matted scruff.

“Go on now, baby,” Velithor murmured. “Go home.”

Xastrian’s breath hitched in a silent sob. He hugged himself, his left arm curling around his side, the right reaching up to cover his heart and grip his shoulder. He felt Velithor’s tears, and smelled them as Lurir lapped them off the hunter’s face.

The wolves woofed as they turned in circles and aimed toward the forest. With that single call, Lurir whirled around and raced off after them. He watched for as long as he was able before joining Velithor at his side. With a silent sniffle, he dropped a hand to Velithor’s shoulder and squeezed.

“He’s going home,” Velithor whispered, his voice thick with sadness. “We’ll see him again. He’ll always know us.”

“I will miss him,” Xastrian admitted, his voice just as thick and watery. He cleared his throat. “I will miss him dearly.”

“Don’t worry.” Velithor turned a bright grin on him. “We still have cubs to deal with.”

“And they definitely cannot enter the palace.” Xastrian groaned as he regarded the two fat puffs of brown fur. “What shall we do with them?”

“Well, we could wander the forest and see if there’s a dam to take them in,” he mused. “Or, we could leave them with Ta’emir as a babysitter.”

I think not, Ta’emir scoffed. I would rather skin them to line my nest and eat their carcasses.

“Aww, but they’re just babies!” Velithor laughed. Seeing his alpha teasing his dragon amused Xastrian to no end. “They’d barely be a mouthful!”

A tasty snack, indeed, Ta’emir mused. Little fleshy morsels with delicious, savory baby fat.

“Oh, now you’re just being obscene.” Velithor smirked, wrinkling his nose. “Ah well, I have no idea what to do with them other than to find and convince a dam.”

“Why not do that while I get things situated here?” Xastrian asked. “There are a few things yet that I must do before I head back to the palace. If you hurry, I should still be here by the time you return.”

“You say that as if I know exactly where in a strange forest to find a dam,” Velithor said as he glanced at the expanse of trees that loomed not far off. “It could take me days.”

“Or, you could track down the wolf pack and ask them if they know where a dam is,” Xastrian offered. “Or would that just not work?”

Velithor stared at him, and his mouth dropped. With a laugh, he launched to his feet and wrapped Xastrian in a bruising hug. “You’re a genius!”

Xastrian preened and hugged his hunter in return. “Oh, I do try.”

Ta’emir snickered. And now his ego matches my own.

“Hush, wyrm.”

The resounding chortle filled Xastrian’s mind, and he shook his head. When he glanced at Velithor, amusement flashed in his electric eyes, and he leaned in to kiss his alpha’s plush lips.

“I’ll be back as soon as possible,” Velithor said. “Hopefully without hyper cubs. If not, I may be able to convince the alpha to help Lurir care for them until I can find a dam willing.”

Xastrian purred and chased after his lover’s lips for a sweet kiss as Velithor spoke. When he finally calmed down, he swatted Velithor’s bottom and finally claimed those lips in a chaste kiss. “Good luck. I shall see you soon.”

His hunter grinned at him, turned, and took off toward the forest, chasing two rambunctious cubs. As Xastrian watched them go, his heart ached. Never before had he had such fond feelings for animals, but those cubs and that wolf had wormed their way into his heart and soul just as much as Velithor had. Would he ever see them again? It was a selfish thought that plagued him, but he turned back around and headed into the brood hall to attend duty. As he made it to the center of the hall, the familiar sound of beating wings met him, and he jogged out of the landing zone to stand near Ta’emir.

As two Imperial Elite dragons touched down, Xastrian wandered over to greet them. At first, they didn’t seem to notice his presence until the redhead grasped his superior’s arm and pointed with a relieved, happy shout that warmed Xastrian to the core. He couldn’t remember a time when anyone seemed so happy to see him.

“Eldrake!” Rinoviel’s bright grin reminded Xastrian of the rising sun with its intensity. The young elf stood almost as tall as Velithor, his rust-colored hair bound behind him in a simple plait to keep it from tangling during flight. He wasn’t as broad as a warrior yet, but Xastrian doubted his slender frame would last long under Parion’s guidance. The omega’s young face, transformed with relief and happiness, held sky blue eyes that sparkled with mirth, a button nose, and delicate features. He was almost exactly the opposite of Parion with his square jaw, face scarred from many battles, brown eyes and close-cropped brown hair, and broad, muscular frame.

“Osulanval’lihor, Rinoviel,” Xastrian murmured the formal greeting. “Osulanval’lihor, Parion.”

Both elves bowed low once they were dismounted. Then, when they righted themselves, Rinoviel laughed.

“We were just out hunting for you,” he said with a boyish grin.

Rinoviel was the youngest to earn his way into the Imperial Flight at the tender age of twelve hundred. Seeing that the Wingleader chose him to patrol showed the young man’s promise.

Parion grimaced at the boy’s apparent disregard for Xastrian’s title but smoothed out his expression and nodded to Xastrian. “It is good to see you well, Eldrake. What happened?”

“There is much to tell.” Xastrian exhaled a weary breath. “For now, I wish a report on what has happened since I went missing.” Truthfully, he wanted to hear that his assassin had been captured. Rinoviel had other ideas.

“What is that you’re wearing, Eldrake?” Rinoviel asked.

Barking a surprised laugh, Xastrian looked down at his robes. “Talza hide robes with buckskin and antler accents.”

Both elves’ eyes went so wide that Xastrian laughed again. Parion stared. “Talza? Eldrake…”

“It will be known to you soon, Parion,” Xastrian said gently. Then, with a dismissive wave, he ended that discussion. “Report.”

“Two dragons down, Eldrake,” Parion said. “Reds from the south led an attack. We still have not been able to find a reason for their onslaught. Nesarias and Heriven are in mourning of their lost mounts and thus off duty.”

“Mother ease their pain,” Xastrian murmured, bowing his head. “Continue.”

“There is nothing else, Eldrake,” Parion said. “The skies are clear now. Unfortunately, though, Skelaer has become aggressive. We believe she will lay soon. Her rider has been put on ground duty during her feral seasons.”

“Good.” He smiled. Truly, it was a blessed event when a dragon lays a new egg, as the dragon always called to him or his father when the time came. But he sobered as the weight of his duty crashed upon his shoulders. “Was there anything left of the two fallen?”

“They have been scaled and entombed,” Parion said quietly. The Wingleader’s dragon nudged him in the back for comfort. “Their scales have been delivered to their riders.”

“You have done well, Wingleader,” Xastrian said, squeezing the elf’s shoulder. “Tend to your beloved and take a moment to compose yourself. Rinoviel, come with me, please.” Xastrian had only the barest idea of what he was about to do, but he trusted his instincts.

With another squeeze of Parion’s shoulder, he released the elf and walked toward Ta’emir. News of his assassin would have to wait. Dragon attacks took precedence, as they threatened more than just himself. They threatened his entire kingdom. He sighed and glanced over. Rinoviel jogged to catch up and turned curious green eyes up at him. “Yes, Eldrake?”

“You were the dragon handler before you joined the flight,” Xastrian remarked. “You can speak to them all, correct?”

“Yes, Eldrake.”

“I would like you to find one for a special elf,” he said. “One who would be willing to train a novice who has not been near a dragon before today.”

“Alpha or omega elf?” Rinoviel asked with a bright grin.

“Alpha, but more submissive in nature than normal alphas.”

“Status?”

“To be determined.”

“Social leanings?”

“Shy. Hunter. Loves animals and nature.”

“I think I have just the one.” Rinoviel beamed. “Shall I go take care of it now?”

“Actually, I wish you to bring the dragon here,” Xastrian mused. “I would know this dragon before this elf is introduced. Yet, I cannot leave, as I am supposed to meet him here when he returns from an errand.”

“How long will his errand take?” Rinoviel asked with a tilt of his head.

“However long it takes to convince a bear dam to take in two orphaned cubs.”

Rinoviel’s head cocked to the side with such force that his braided ponytail whipped behind him. “What?”

“He is a hunter, as I said,” Xastrian said with a secretive grin. “The cubs were our babies for a while. It is time they found a mother, as I doubt we could raise them in the city without a fuss from the Court.”

“I… okay.” Rinoviel blinked and looked around. “Right, uh… I’ll go get our new best friend and be right back, then. I think that’s enough weird for me at the moment.”

Chuckling, Xastrian nodded. “Hurry back.”

As Rinoviel ran off, Xastrian turned back to Ta’emir and rubbed between his beloved dragon’s eyes as he called over his shoulder. “Parion, come here, please.”

“Yes, Eldrake.” He jogged over once the two mounts had their snacks of live, bleating sheep. “How may I serve?”

“I need your assistance in a small matter,” Xastrian said, his back turned to the Wingleader. “Send a scout toward the Summerlands. Look for a steed headed this way. She is a striking white, so will be hard to miss. I want you to ensure that nothing unfortunate happens to her. The scout is to protect her at all costs.”

“And if she must be approached?” Parion asked.

“Her name is Zia’nal.” Xastrian pondered a moment. How best to not frighten the poor horse? He frowned for a second before saying, “Land your mount well away from her, as she is still uncertain of them. According to her rider, she is personable if you call her by name and approach her in a friendly manner with a soft voice.”

“It will be done, Eldrake,” Parion promised with a formal bow at the waist. “I shall send Cyn. He is a healing-inclined mage, and will be better prepared for the mission.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Parion,” Xastrian said as he turned toward the bowed elf. Now for the report he was desperate for. He steeled himself, not sure he could handle the news if it proved what he was almost certain it would be. Finally, he inhaled a deep breath and asked, “And what of my assassin?”

Parion grimaced, and Xastrian’s heart clenched with fear and dread. He resisted the urge to wipe his suddenly damp palms on the buckskin of his pants. “I don’t think there has been any headway. You’ll have to talk to Garambor about that.” He grimaced again, clearly wanting to give a full report, but if the Crest, or head of the ground military, whereas Parion was head of the aerial military, was the one to speak to, Xastrian couldn’t fault him. “I’m sorry, Eldrake.”

Xastrian nodded and took another deep breath to calm his nerves. “Thank you for your candor. You are dismissed.”

“Thank you, Eldrake. Vas’eser.”

With the formal farewell, Xastrian bowed his head in kind and watched the Wingleader jog out of the cave to find his scout. Alone, he leaned heavily against Ta’emir’s face and stroked his shiny black scales, relying on his soul-mount for comfort. I have missed you greatly.

I can only imagine, his dragon said in their mind link. You have yet to speak of what happened.

Xastrian shuddered and reached to tuck his hair behind his ears to get it out of his face. So much. I accidentally blasted us into another dimension with a crazy ivari with a god complex, a talza, harpies, and a sithak. It snowballed downhill from there.

Mmm, no wonder you were so eager to fly, Ta’emir mused. You seem none the worse for wear. Though, you also seem… different. Calmer. More sure of yourself.

Chuckling, Xastrian leaned his face next to Ta’emir’s large eye. I think I matured in that cave. There was great joy in those few days with the sorrow and terror. I learned much and can learn so much more.

And what stops you? Ta’emir asked, nuzzling against him.

Fear.

That is something I have never witnessed you admit before. He really has changed you… for the better, as I have seen thus far.

He saw me at my worst. Xastrian smiled as he remembered all those times he saw pride swell in his hunter’s eyes. He saw me at my worst, and still, he claimed me.

That is how it is meant to be, otherwise, I would have dropped you on your head long ago.

With a laugh, Xastrian buried his face in his mount’s scales and dissolved into soft chuckles. He shook his head and sighed when he calmed, patting Ta’emir’s face under his large eye. You are horrible.

Yet, you still adore me. Ta’emir let out a musical laugh.

Xastrian snorted. Much to my annoyance at times.

Liar.

Grinning, Xastrian patted Ta’emir’s face again. He groaned as just the presence of his soul-mount, his dragon, calmed his heart. Footsteps sounded behind him, but he didn’t turn. They ran for him. Thinking it was Rinoviel returned with the dragon, he remained with Ta’emir, basking in his soul-mount’s presence. Ta’emir would alert him to any danger. He would protect Xastrian with his life. Whoever ran for him must be someone he knew.

That apparently didn’t matter, though. The nearer those steps came, the more his heart clenched with anxiety. His assassin could be anyone. Someone he knew, as he knew nearly everyone within the Dragon Highlands, at least in passing. A warm body pressed against his back, and he stiffened. Arms flowed around his middle, gentle and sure. The alpha purred against his ear, kissed his neck, and instantly, Xastrian relaxed.

“That was a rather short trip, Veli,” he murmured against Ta’emir’s neck.

“Veli?” Disdain filled Asseisal’s voice. “Who is Veli?”

“Gods, Asseisal!” Xastrian’s heart sank as he turned in those arms and stared into his fiancé’s eyes. “Mother’s breath, I am sorry.”

“This ‘Veli’ holds you as I do?” Asseisal frowned, hurt darkening his eyes. “He kisses you as I do?”

Xastrian’s stomach pitted, and he scrubbed a hand over his face. Asseisal held him possessively, and when Xastrian dared to look again, his fiancé frowned deeper. “We are to be married in less than a season, Xastrian. Where have you been that you found someone else to frolic with so soon?”

“I am… so sorry, Asseisal,” Xastrian said. He tried not to shy away from him. They had shared so much over the last few epochs. Arranged political marriage or not, Asseisal never deserved to find out like this. “The wedding is off.”

Asseisal scowled and backed away. “Off? What do you mean, ‘off?’” he demanded.

Frowning, Xastrian straightened his posture as if he were about to go into a violent court session. Though, if he were honest, it might be worse than anything the court could throw at him. “I have soulbonded with another, Asseisal. I apologize for the sudden news and the unfortunate way you found out, but I cannot marry you. Velithor and I will marry as soon as arrangements are in order.”

His now ex-fiancé’s face neutralized into a blank, unreadable mask. His fingers curled into fists only briefly before relaxing at his sides again. “What happened to you, Xastrian? Where did you go?”

That was a question he could answer. Rubbing his forehead, Xastrian sighed and stared at his ex-lover. “With the attempt on my life, I was sent to hide while the search for my would-be assassin got underway. I was supposed to return that evening, but a crazed and imprisoned ivari used my magic to pull myself, Velithor, and a small part of a forest into her dimensional prison.”

He went on explaining all that had happened, including gaining his freedom with the help of Velithor and the sithak. With each sentence, Asseisal’s faceted iolite eyes—eyes that once resembled soft, clear-as-violet water in the spring—darkened to nearly black to obscure his pupils. The darker those eyes became, the more Xastrian wanted to disappear back into that cave and live there forever with his hunter.

“I am sorry, Asseisal,” he said.

“You will be,” Asseisal whispered.

Then turned around and stormed off.

I’d like to say Shadetree was a gorgeous, sprawling metropolis in the middle of a picturesque forest in Pennsylvania. But being poor, all I ever saw were the slums and the ugliness of this city. It closed around me as I walked down the lowest level of the three-tiered sidewalks toward home. My home? An efficiency apartment on the fifth floor of the Seymour Commons Apartment Complex, nestled deep in the heart of the low-income district under my legally assumed name, Dustin Juniper. You know, it’s that place in each city where the wealthy people put the poor kids. Out of sight, out of mind. But as I walked on the “poor level” of that three-tiered sidewalk—the level that had roads, crosswalks, and other inconveniences the wealthy didn’t want to deal with—oblivious to the wealthy elites traversing the levels above me and on the aerial bridges between skyscrapers, I desperately wished I wasn’t in the business district. At least in the low-income district, people minded their own damned business and avoided touching each other at all cost. There were a few nice people, some who helped out. But the general rule remained: keep your head down, your nose and hands to yourself, and don’t stand out.

Keeping my head low and my hands stuffed in my pockets, I prayed I could make it out of the throng before anyone looked at my ripped jean jacket, dirty clothes, and worn work boots and accuse me of pickpocketing them, or worse, grabbing their ass just because I look sleazy after working a full day in construction. Just yesterday, the police apprehended and questioned me for touching a woman inappropriately when she had bumped into me. If it were a man, it would have been less laughable. I’m as gay as they come. But thankfully, the officer on duty knew my parents before they were murdered and took me home after the woman left, assured I’d be “taken care of.”

It all grated on my nerves, making me feel lesser. But wasn’t that what I had been taught my entire life? That, as someone who works construction, whether I was one of the best on my team or not, whether everyone listened to me over the foreman half the time or not, I was lesser because I was poor.

Ugh.

I glanced up to judge where I was going, breaking myself out of the dark spiral my thoughts had swirled down. Ahead of me, a sleek black limousine blocked the intersection, right where I was headed to cross the street. The tire-less vehicle hovered bare inches above the thin solar panels that made up the road, purring just above a whisper as it idled next to the curb. The car’s driver stood next to the back passenger door, holding it open as he chatted to the man he served.

I stopped a few feet away, waiting for the Elite to get on with his day so I could cross in safety. It was debasing, but I wasn’t about to walk around the car and get hit in the middle of the road while some wealthy socialite took their time to make a grand exit and head into one of the elegant skyscrapers that housed some of the country’s top corporations.

Someone shoved me from behind, a large male hand. At the same time, I felt the swipe of a box cutter at my ass. If I’d been wearing a wallet in my back pocket, I’d have just been robbed.

The joke’s on them. I never owned a wallet and damned sure wouldn’t take one with me to work. Had no use for it. My identification and money access were stored in my CommLink implant. But poor people weren’t supposed to have these implants. Not that I was poor before my parents died. Idiot with the box cutter and giant meat-hands didn’t know that, though.

But that shove sent me sprawling. I snatched my hands out of my pockets, thrust them out before me to regain my balance. Tried to stop my forward momentum. Just as I thought I’d eat the limo driver’s elbow, and possibly the sidewalk, my palms met a well-muscled chest covered in the softest fabric I’d ever touched, and something cold and tingly pressed into the fingers of my right hand.

The man caught me by the biceps and gently righted me as if I wasn’t street scum, as if I hadn’t just tried to plow the man down. He waited until I had my balance, and when I looked up into the man’s startling blue eyes, I gasped. My wits finally returned to me, and I nearly vomited the apology, “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

The man narrowed his eyes as if he heard the lie in my voice. But he said, “It’s all right. I remained where I was so you wouldn’t sprawl straight onto the floor of my car.” His voice was as silky and deep as a calm ocean. It flowed over me and left a pleasant tingle in its wake. Concern and something else I couldn’t name shone in the man’s intense blue eyes. “Are you all right?”

I shivered, both from the autumn chill and the smoky quality of the man’s sensual voice. My right hand started to burn, and I cradled it against my chest as I replied, “I don’t know how, but I think I burned my fingers on something.” I knew it was impossible, but my fingers hurt.

With a tender touch, the man teased my hand out of my death grip and tickled my fingers until I reluctantly unclenched my fist. As he examined them, he lightly brushed the pads of his fingers over my calluses and tutted to himself. “It does not appear to be a burn, but you are, indeed, injured.”

Great.

Something dark flashed in the man’s eyes when he looked back up at me. He didn’t let go of my hand, but his grip remained gentle. Firm enough to keep me from pulling away, but he wasn’t forceful. Yet.

I stared at my hand as the ridges of the man’s necklace appeared on my fingers as if I were branded by it. And as the design completed, the world tilted.

Everything spun. The bright streetlights and setting sun dimmed, and the world went black. I fell or could feel myself falling, but before I hit the ground, strong arms caught me, and the last thing I felt before darkness completely overtook me was the man cradling me against his soft-as-clouds sweater and his breath tickling my ear as his voice echoed around me, “All will be well, young one. Come back to me.”

And I wished I could.

“Come back to me,” his voice echoed.

My head finally stopped spinning. Golden light stung my eyes even from behind my closed lids. I brought my shaking hand up to rub at them and groaned. I blinked them open to try and see what hospital I’d been taken to, mostly to find a way to sneak out before I’d have to pay any fees. But hospitals didn’t smell like fragrant flowers mixed with grass and pine. They smelled like antiseptic and fever to me. Always had, and I’d hated it.

But the scent of flowers, heady and thick, wrapped about me, as did an unseasonable warmth. It was late autumn in Shadetree, but here the balmy temperature was pleasant and felt good against my skin. I started to rub my hands over my chest but froze. My jacket and shirts were gone. After a quick check, I sat bolt upright. Not only was I nude, but I sat in grass almost as soft as that man’s sweater. I blinked more to adjust my eyes to the bright light and get rid of the tears caused by the sun and gasped again.

The grass I sat in belonged to a meadow filled with flowers so vivid that their colors hurt my eyes almost as much as the sun. The grass was so soft under my bare skin that the blades and flowers tickled my inner thighs and lower back. It was almost sensual, and part of me wanted to stay here forever.

But here was not home. Staying here meant no money, no food—I looked down at myself and grimaced—and no clothes. But how did I get here? And more importantly, how did I get home? I had to move, so I got up and stretched to test myself. Was I weak? No. I actually felt better than I had in a long time. The dizziness was gone. But so were Shadetree’s streets, the people, and everything I knew.

I turned in a tight circle to see where I was, where I could go, but the meadow seemed to stretch on forever. In one direction, I spotted the faint outlines of what looked like the towers of some grand fairytale castle in the far distance. How close were they? How long would it take me to walk there? Would I instantly get arrested for indecent exposure?

“Great. Well, if this is a dream, walking in the buff won’t kill me,” I muttered.

“Young man…”

Startled, I jerked to look around but found and felt myself to be alone.

“Hello? Where are you?” I called. “Who are you?”

“I am Casersis,” the voice replied, sounding much like the one belonging to the man who I’d nearly leveled at that limousine. “Might I know your name?”

My name? Who did this guy think he was? “I’m D.J.,” I replied. He was being nice, so I had to give him something. But I didn’t trust giving out my full name, and most people called me D.J., anyway.

Casersis, though, wasn’t happy with that. “Those are initials! They are not a name!” he cried indignantly.

“It’s what people call me, so it works.” I wasn’t about to give up that easily. No matter how much I hoped he could get me back home.

Casersis’s sigh seemed to tickle my ear, and I spun around again. “Where are you?” I demanded.

“I am sitting in the limo, and you are currently cradled on my lap, quite limp.”

I frowned and hugged myself. This wasn’t going as I had hoped. But I wasn’t even sure what I had hoped for. “Then, I am dreaming. How are you talking to me, then?”

“I am speaking into your ear, though I hear you in my mind,” Casersis replied. “Can you feel my breath?”

I frowned harder but went quiet. After a moment, I felt the tickle along the shell of my ear again and shivered. “Yeah. It’s faint, though. Kind of like the breeze where I am.”

“What is your name?” Casersis asked again.

Ugh. I sighed and hugged myself tighter. Might as well… “Dustin. Dustin Juniper.” Not really a lie. I’d had it changed from my birth name when I was sixteen.

The breath left my ear, and I heard Casersis murmur, “Charles, drive us around the city.”

“Yes, Mr. Ardal,” the driver replied.

Vertigo overcame me for a moment but then went away. I knelt in the grass, suddenly glad for the warmth of the sun on my skin as a deep chill ran through my body.

“Dustin, what do you see?” Casersis asked.

I looked around again as if I hadn’t seen a thing. “I’m surrounded by grass and different kinds of flowers I’ve never seen before. There’s a building off in the distance. I can’t tell what it is, or how far it is, but it’s tall and almost looks like a castle’s towers.”

Casersis gasped, then went quiet. I shifted in my kneeling position to sit with my feet tucked under my knees in the grass to give myself some comfort. For some reason, I wanted to hide, even though I didn’t quite know what I was hiding from.

“Casersis?”

No answer came. I trembled and huddled down. Terror gripped my insides because Casersis was the only link to home I had. “Casersis… I’m scared.”

“Scared” was an understatement, but that’s all I’d admit to. I was alone, without clothes, and even though the meadow’s grass was soft, it looked like miles of walking to that building, and part of the journey looked like it might go through a forest. No thanks.

“What’s going on?” I tried again. “Where am I?”

For all my twenty years, I had never been this scared. It wasn’t quite to the point of full-panic terror, but I was scared enough that I didn’t want to move from my new seat in the tall grass. So, I plucked a few blades while I waited and tore them to shreds. My mind went bonkers. I could have mowed the entire area with my nervous shredding.

Did Casersis leave me? Did he dump my body somewhere? The ghosting of breath no longer tickled my ear. No sounds came except for the chirping of birds and crickets.

Finally, the breath returned. “I am sorry, Dustin.”

The soothing, soulful timbre of his voice had my muscles relaxing without my permission, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I dropped my head into my open palms, let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, and asked, “Where am I?”

“I do not know,” came Casersis’s lie. I knew it was a lie by the way he hesitated, the way his voice changed tone ever so subtly. Few could ever lie to me, and he sounded guilty about it. Guilty and evasive. He went on, “I do know, however, that your mind has left your body. You must come back to it.”

So, I wasn’t dreaming? I was out of my body. Not sleeping, but missing. What the actual fuck? I swallowed hard and shrank down further. “Then where did my mind go? How can I get back to my body if I don’t know where it is?” I was nearly shrieking at this point and couldn’t stop the venom that entered my voice. “How do I know you aren’t lying about this like you did when you told me you don’t know where I am?”

“So many questions,” he said with a slight hint of exasperation. I could already tell he was normally a master of evasion. It wouldn’t work with me. I would get answers whether I had a body with hands to wring them out of his neck or not. “Calm yourself, Dustin,” he cooed near my ear, his breath tickling the fine hairs along its shell. “You are safe. I will guide you back, but you must calm down. Let the sun relax you. Let the breeze soothe you. Let the earth beneath you cradle you.”

Yeah. Right. I sighed and rubbed my face. The only way I could relax was by lying on my stomach, and somehow lying face down in a meadow didn’t have any appeal. Bugs crawling around my junk and face wasn’t my idea of relaxation, okay?

I wrinkled my nose at that idea, and at that moment, Casersis chuckled. “What are you laughing at?” I demanded. How dare he laugh at a time like this?

“Your mind is so busy,” he said, not even bothering to try and keep the amusement out of his voice.

“You can⁠—”

“No, Dustin.” His voice returned to his gentle tone, and it once again had that soothing effect on me. “I can only read what you say directly to me. Your other thoughts are your own and inaccessible to me. But I can feel you thinking.” He puffed a breath that washed over my face like the summer breeze that blew across my skin in steady gusts. He smelled of the meadow—grass and flowers and pine trees and wood smoke. “You need to let it all go. It is not conducive to our current quest.”

“I’m naked, Casersis,” I groused.

“And this is a problem?” he asked, and I desperately wanted to punch him. The amusement in his tone made me blush, and the urge to punch reached new heights.

Somehow, I kept myself calm and muttered, “I can usually only relax on my stomach.” I rubbed my belly then and remembered that I hadn’t had time for lunch on the job site. I was dirty, smelly, hungry… and in Casersis’s lap. Shit.

“Your belly is rumbling,” Casersis remarked. “We shall get you something to eat once you are back in your beautiful body.”

“Beautiful?” I gaped at nothing, my mouth ajar. Beautiful? Really? I blinked and cocked my head to stare off at those far-away towers. “You think I’m beautiful?” My earlier flush deepened until my skin felt scorched by the sun. From the brief glimpse I’d had of Casersis, I honestly was nothing by comparison. Casersis had long, silky black hair, the body of a God, piercing blue eyes, a straight patrician nose, and skin so creamy and flawless, he seemed almost too perfect to be real. And that was all just from the brief glimpse I’d gotten of him before my mind decided to take this little vacation.

Casersis hummed a breath. “I doubt there is anyone alive who doesn’t,” he mused. “But, that is neither here nor there. Focus, Dustin. Lie on your side in the fetal position. Pull your hands to your chest and close your eyes.”

I couldn’t help the frustrated sigh I heaved through puffed cheeks, but I complied. What did I have to lose? As I laid down, the tall grass cradled me, tickling my skin. The flower scent grew stronger as they and the grass closed around my face. I shivered as I tucked my hands to my chest and pulled my knees up. Finally, I closed my eyes and did my best to relax. “All right. I’m down.”

“Good,” he purred. “Now, focus on your body. Remember what you were wearing. Describe it to me.”

“Uhm…” Suddenly, I felt unsure, but again, what did I have to lose? “I’m wearing a gray thermal, long-sleeved shirt under a black Kaudien t-shirt. I wore my favorite pair of jeans. We weren’t working with concrete today at the job, and these are the only ones I own that don’t have at least one rough patch of dried concrete that won’t come out. I’ve got on white socks with gray toes and heels. I had them pulled up tight around my calves, but they fell down halfway through the job today, and I didn’t bother pulling them back up.” I shivered and curled up tighter. “And I’m wearing a black jean jacket. The right pocket is ripped from a brush with a broken chain link fence, and the back has a long rip from being mauled by an overly-loving pit bull who demanded hugs before she’d stop chewing my clothes.”

“…A dog attacked you?”

“With love.” I laughed fondly at the memory and explained further. “She didn’t hurt me. My jacket didn’t fare well, but she’s a cuddle-monster. She’s our mascot of sorts, always at the job with us because the owner likes having her near for protection. She adopted a litter of kittens the other day. I think they’re weaned, but she’s treating them like her pups and saved them from one of the construction trucks by jumping on the loader and barking.”

“Interesting creature,” Casersis breathed. “Now… what do you feel? Without opening your eyes, tell me exactly what you feel?”

“I feel… warm, but not like a few moments ago.” I shivered, though. “I keep getting chills down my back and arms.”

“Do you feel my arms around you?” Casersis asked, his voice closer. His breath puffed against my ear with every word. “Do you feel me caressing your face? You haven’t a hint of stubble.”

Just then, I felt him squeeze my upper body. It felt so good that I let out a soft purr and relaxed further. Casersis’s fingers trailed over my cheek and feathered into my hair. “I feel it,” I whispered. “And I don’t seem to grow hair anywhere except head, groin, eyebrows, and lashes. Weird family trait. Never had to shave my face in my life.”

“I see. Good. Focus on my touches. Try to open your eyes for me. Come back to me, Dustin.”

The hand in my hair massaged my scalp until it tingled. Fingers traced the whorls of my ear, making me hum with the pleasant waves of pleasure it caused. Casersis rewarded me with another hug and the press of his warm, soft lips to my forehead. I tried to open my eyes, but when I did, all I saw was blackness.

I stiffened and frantically tried to look around. My panic built as I felt suffocated by the darkness. “I can’t see!”

“You have not yet opened your eyes,” Casersis murmured against my ear. “Relax, Dustin. Relax.” I felt Casersis tuck my face into the curve of his neck and rubbed comforting circles at the base of my spine. The strength of the sensations gave me back a bit of my lost courage. It meant I was closer to my body. Didn’t it? Casersis seemed so calm. “This is not a race,” he said. “Trust that it will happen.”

The scent of the man wrapped around me stronger than before. But underneath that, he smelled of the meadow and something that was just indescribably Casersis. There was no chemical scent of cologne, and as his breath wafted over my face, I knew that was where the mint came from. It surprised me that I just now caught those underlying scents. It briefly made me remember holiday dinners with my parents, but I had to push those memories away so I wouldn’t lose my entire shit.

I took a series of calming breaths and whispered, “I’m relaxed.”

“So I can see,” Casersis murmured. “How do you feel?”

Struck by it, I blurted out, “Cherished.”

Casersis chuckled, but it was filled with a fondness I didn’t understand. “I am glad.” His warm hands smoothed over my back and rubbed the knots in my shoulders. “Try opening your eyes again, but do not despair if you still cannot see.”

I took another long, deep breath and obeyed. I felt my eyes flutter open, or at least, I thought I did. But again, I saw only inky blackness. My heart skipped a beat in fear, but I kept my voice level to report, “Nothing.”

“It may just take time,” Casersis said into my hair. His breath warmed that spot, and he combed his fingers through the strands, nails scratching deliciously over my scalp. “Focus on my touches, my voice.”

“Can we have a regular conversation?” I asked. “Because I’m getting a little freaked out again, and I want to stay relaxed.”

“Well, we could talk about your wardrobe, if you like.”

I gasped. Embarrassment heated my cheeks. I knew my wardrobe was poor because I was poor. Did he really have to throw it in my face? “What’s wrong with my wardrobe? I’m a construction worker!”

He seemed undeterred and unrepentant. “Ah, but you see? One with your beauty should not have such a profession! You should accentuate your delightful features. Instead, you hide them quite remarkably.”

“You’re a clothes horse, I take it…”

Casersis sighed and laughed. “You will, of course, let me dress you when this is all over.”

I snorted. “Oh, I will, will I?”

“I will get my way. You will see.”

“Yeah… sure. We’ll see.”

“Mmm, your shoulders are tensing. This is not good. A change in subject is in order,” Casersis mused. “Try opening your eyes again.”

A shiver went through me, but I obeyed. “Nothing. I can’t see anything.” Fear trickled into the pit of my stomach again, and I closed my eyes tight. “I just want to see! I don’t even care if it’s the meadow again. I can feel everything you’re doing to me. Why can’t I see?”

“Hush, Dustin,” Casersis whispered. “Hush, now. All will be well.”

“I won’t hush! I’m scared!”

Casersis sighed and kissed the side of my neck. “Do you trust me?”

“What?” I blinked at his abrupt change in subject, but again I saw nothing.

“Do you trust me?” he asked again.

Did I? Again, I really had no choice, and I admitted as such. “I… I guess so. I really have no choice at the moment.”

“I have a fairly good idea of how to get you back to your body fully, but I need your full trust, Dustin. I need you to trust that I will not hurt you in any way.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked, wary.

He pressed a hand to my crotch, and I stiffened. What… the fuck?

Dustin pounced on me the moment we got out of the shower. We’d already had marathon sex the night before. Then he woke me up with more that made me soft and pliant. Now that we were out of the shower, dry, and dressed, it seemed he wanted another round, and I was sincerely glad I had the stamina to keep up with his youthful abilities to get hard minutes after an intense orgasm.

I wasn’t complaining, but I had to get to work this morning, and another round of letting him have his way with me would not only make me late but would also possibly anger those I had meetings with. Most of my clients were the types who thought everything was supposed to go their way, that I would bend to their wills, that I would set aside everything just to have them in my schedule.

They were wrong, but I hadn’t yet had to tell them that. I didn’t feel like telling them today, either, so I hugged Dustin to me and kissed the side of his head. “You will make me late, beauty.”

He groaned. “I don’t care. Call off.”

The way he pouted had a giddy thrill run up my spine and settle warmly in my chest. But something was bothering him, and I wanted to know what it was.

Before I could ask, Beth knocked on the door, opened it, and stuck her head through the opening. “Breakfast is served in the parlor. Get at it before it gets cold.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dustin said. He seemed to have a healthy respect for her, which I both loved and found amusing. Then again, he could put away a good amount of food, and Beth made sure he was always well-fed. It probably should not surprise me that he was buttering Beth up with the way he ate.

“What are your plans for today?” I asked as we sat down. I plucked the covers off the plates to reveal fluffy pancakes, fresh fruit, yogurt, granola, syrup, and bacon. Every breakfast had to have bacon because Dustin looked like a wounded puppy if it didn’t. And Beth fell for it every time. Now she made sure it was with every morning meal no matter whatever else we had that morning.

Speaking of, he took half the rasher of bacon and stuffed a crispy piece in his mouth, folding it so he could eat it whole. I guessed it must have been his transition giving him such an appetite. But I also wondered if it was because he finally had enough food. From what I’d gathered, he had always skipped breakfast and lunch and survived on ramen noodles and other cheap, unhealthy foods when it came time for dinner.

If he stuffed himself full-to-bursting at every meal because he wasn’t certain he would always have this life, it would gut me. I wanted to ask, but I was afraid the question would put him off and make him ration himself unnecessarily.

Still, I watched him eat, satisfied that he was getting full. He was developing a healthy glow to his skin, which was now softer to the touch, and he now took his time eating, letting himself enjoy each meal instead of inhaling it like a vacuum hose.

“You gonna stare at me and watch me eat all morning?” Dustin asked. Amusement shone in his bright silver eyes. “I mean, I know I’m hot, but you should probably eat your own breakfast unless you want to incur Beth’s wrath.”

Ah, yes. Dustin was right. Beth didn’t take well to wasting food. I sighed and took a sip of my tea before loading my plate with pancakes. I slathered them with a thin layer of yogurt, sprinkled some of the granola atop, and added a few slices of strawberries and a few blueberries.

Dustin watched me, and when I went to cut into my pancakes, he tilted his head like a confused puppy. “No syrup?”

I glanced over as I made the first cut. “The yogurt and fruit are sweet enough.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Weird. You’re weird.”

Dustin, of course, had slathered his pancakes with mounds of whipped butter, sprinkled them with granola and crumbled bacon, then liberally doused the poor things with gobs of thick syrup.

I had the strangest feeling that he would be hyper later and instantly felt bad for the security team and Kevin.

We ate in silence for a moment until Dustin shifted in his seat to face me fully. “Cass?”

“What is it, beauty?”

“How long will you be at work?” He tilted his head and ran a hand up my leg, instantly flaring my quiescent libido into a raging inferno that had me hard and aching, slick wetting my asshole.

Dustin scented the air and grinned victoriously, but he kept his hand just shy of where I desperately wanted it. “You might want to clean up before you leave. I could help you with that, of course.”

I cleared my throat and squeezed his hand. “I think I had better take care of it myself. You would make me later than I already will be.”

Taking a bite of my pancakes, I gave myself a moment to chew and savor before answering his initial question. “I should be home around five-thirty. Why?”

He gave me a flirtatious look and went back to eating as if we hadn’t said anything. It put me ill at ease, but I went back to my meal, hoping he was simply curious.

When we finished, I went to clean up and take care of my arousal alone since if I had Dustin help me with it, I wouldn’t make it into the office until after lunchtime. I made sure my clothes were arranged properly and went back to the parlor to find it empty.

After checking his room, I headed for the front hall to find him waiting with my jacket in his hands. He helped me into it and turned me around. I melted into him when he pulled me in by a fistful of my loose hair and kissed me breathless, tongue and teeth and the sweetness of berries and syrup. I shuddered and leaned our foreheads together when he pulled away so we could both catch our breaths.

Then he put both hands to my face and made me look at him, his eyes intense and hard as he said, his voice gravel and smoke, “Hurry home.”

I smiled gently and pressed another kiss to his cheekbone. “I promise.”

Dustin would be the death of me.

I sat in one of my offices, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows when I should have been finalizing contracts. Nothing I attempted today had lasted more than five minutes before my mind wandered back to the estate and Dustin. What was he doing? How was he coping without my presence? Why did he look so intense when he kissed me goodbye that morning, demanding I hurry home?

Everything seemed to narrow down to Dustin. I loved him desperately, could not imagine my life without him. But no matter how my heart tripped over itself every time I looked at him, I could not shake the feeling that I was a hypocrite. Here I was in a relationship with a fledgling elf, yearning for a soulbond that I was unsure I would ever have, and I had refused to welcome my own son’s chosen mate into the family because Kennan had not formed a soulbond of his own.

Every cell in my body, every tattered shred of my broken soul, yearned for a soulbond, but I could not ever imagine myself giving Dustin up. I could not imagine a life without him in it, by my side in all things. But no matter how hard I tried, I could not get rid of that nagging ache inside that wished for a bond-mate. It ate at me, driving me to madness and interfered with my work when all I wanted to do was go home and force Dustin to look into my eyes, to see if we could form that fabled bond, to see if Dustin was destined to be mine even though my soul kept screaming that yes, he was meant to be mine in all ways.

The deep sigh that left my lungs fluttered the steaming surface of my tea as I held it to my lips. How long had I held it there while daydreaming about my beauty? The tip of my nose was warm. Condensation had gathered there, making me wrinkle it.

Disgusted with myself, I turned my chair around and tried to focus on the holoscreen that hovered above my glass desk, tried to force myself to get some work done, but I already knew it would be a futile exercise. Dustin had overtaken my entire world, even my workdays.

“Mr. Ardal, your eleven-thirty is here to see you,” my receptionist said over my CommLink.

Biting back the groan that threatened to undermine my control, I closed the contract’s file and dismissed the holoscreen. “Send him in.”

Moments later, a little mole of a man entered my office, and for the next half hour, I did my best to listen to his concerns. The entire time, my mind kept wandering back to the estate, back to my beauty.

I would never make it. My day was going down in flames, and it wasn’t even lunchtime.

“Your mind seems elsewhere, Mr. Ardal,” Mr. Harper said, amusement in his tone. “You look a cross between starstruck and pensive. Have I come at a bad time?”

The sigh finally escaped me, and I rubbed the inner corners of my eyes with my thumb and forefinger. “No. I apologize.”

“New relationship?” he guessed correctly.

I stared at him. His flaming red goatee, balding head, and beady eyes were made softer with his amused smirk. It surprised me that he looked… friendly. Few in this industry were, but Mr. Harper had always been an easy associate. “How did you guess?”

“You have the same besotted look I had when I met my wife.” He chuckled and sat back. “Want some friendly advice?”

“If you’d give it, certainly.”

His smirk grew. “Go home, Casersis. I doubt you’d get any work done, and whatever you do get done will be half-assed at best. Go home.”

I laughed. Unable to help myself, I laughed until I curled over and rested my overheated forehead against the glass top. “I have been fighting that impulse since I left the house this morning. You have no idea.”

“Oh, I have a very good idea,” Mr. Harper muttered. “I was useless for months after I started dating Alicia.”

Dating. I should start taking Dustin on dates. That would get him out of the house. Hadn’t I already had that thought? Hadn’t I agreed to do such things with Dustin a few weeks ago when we had come to our agreement? And I hadn’t kept my promise. I had gone right back into my usual routine, and Dustin suffered.

“Go home, Casersis.” Mr. Harper stood and adjusted his suit coat. “I’ll forward my requests as a CommMail. Deal with it when you have your head back on straight.”

I lifted my head to stare at him. “You are willing to wait? I thought you were in a rush.”

He shrugged and headed for the door, taking his coat from the rack in the corner and draping it over his arm. “Consider it a favor between friends. Besides, I know for a fact you do your best work from home. If you have to do it with your lover on your lap, I don’t need to know the difference.” He grinned back at me from the door. “I don’t care how the project gets done, just so long as it does. Either way, I’ve done business with you for years. I know you’ll get it done without the quality suffering.”

“You are a darling, Griffin.”

Mr. Harper winked at me, chuckling to himself as he left. I heard him murmur, “He’s done for the day, Sam. Send that poor bastard home before he screws something up, yeah?” before the door shut behind him.

Heat seared my skin, flowing from the tips of my ears down my neck until I couldn’t stand it anymore and covered my face with both hands and laughed. I was a mess.

I opened my holoscreen and made a few adjustments to Mr. Harper’s files, making sure they synced with my home office. He was right. I did work better from home. I felt more comfortable there and had fewer interruptions on most days unless Dustin needed an outlet for his boundless energy.

I made a few arrangements and powered down my workstation. As I was getting my coat on, I had a strange feeling come over me.

A moment later, my CommLink chimed with an incoming call. “Kevin calling,” said the pleasant female voice, and I sighed. “Answer.”

“Dad, you need to get your ass home,” Kevin started. “Please, for fuck’s sake, get here quick.”

My heart rate picked up at the panicked tone of his voice. “What is wrong, my son?”

Kevin’s groan was so loud that my CommLink implant vibrated with it. “Dustin’s gone bonkers. He’s making everyone crazy. Come home, dad. Please. Do something about it before I wring the kid’s neck.”

After Mr. Harper’s words, I had already planned to go home and was almost ready to leave my office as if I had needed someone’s permission to leave work and rush back to the estate. To abandon responsibility just to bask in Dustin’s warm presence. It seemed the universe was pushing me home, and I wanted to give in, but I had so much work to do. Even at home, I would have to get some of that work done. Going home early did not mean I could laze about and do nothing but satisfy my beauty.

“Dad,” Kevin muttered, “I’m not kidding. Get your ass home and deal with this. He’s freaking out the staff, his security detail, and I’m not sure what to do without duct-taping him to a fucking chair.”

I chuckled at the image that presented and shook my head. Apparently, however, that was the wrong thing to do as my son growled and said, “It’s not funny, asshole.”

I snorted and drank the rest of my cold tea, taking a moment to allow myself to sober and give Kevin my full attention. “What is he doing?”

“The better question is ‘what is he not doing?’ Dad… just get home.”

With those last words, he ended the call, and I sighed. A coil of dread circled in my stomach until I pushed open the door and left my office. Samuel looked up at me from over the rim of his coffee mug. “Going home, Mr. Ardal?”

“Yes. Please clear my schedule for the rest of the day.”

“Have a pleasant day, then.” He pulled up my calendar and smirked as I passed. It puzzled me that I saw not a single appointment for the rest of the month, and it made me wonder what exactly Mr. Harper had told him before he left. Before he left, my schedule was booked full for the next two weeks. Had he tipped him off to make all those appointments go away? What would my clients think?

It did not matter. The only person who mattered at the moment was Dustin. He was still transitioning from human to elf, and he needed more of my attention than I could give him if I were to be in the office every day. Mr. Harper was a godsend, and Samuel knew me too well to ignore Griffin’s order. Humbled, I was immensely grateful as I headed down to the underground garage to meet with my security personnel and head home.

As I made my way into the elevator, I received a CommMail from Kevin that made my blood run cold.

“Get here. Now. Dustin’s lost his entire shit.”

With those words swimming in my mind, I bolted for my car as soon as the elevator doors opened. My security head caught up with me, struggling to keep pace. “What’s wrong?”

I did not even glance his way. “We must hurry. Something is wrong with Dustin.”

My CommLink vibrating startled me so bad I dropped my mallet and chisel. I frantically inspected the wood, hoping I didn’t mar my work. As I ran my fingers over the rough woodgrain, I absently said, “Caller ID.”

“Erastus Armistead calling,” the feminine voice announced.

“What the ever-loving fuck?” I stared at my right hand as if I could see my idiot CommLink implant. How did he get my number? Fuck. “Answer.”

“Dustin,” Erastus purred. “How are you?”

“Why are you calling?” I whisper-shouted. I had no idea where Casersis was, but if he were near and heard me talking to his archenemy, then sparks would fly, and I hated being in the center of their four-millennia-long feud. When they weren’t together locking horns, they both were seemingly nice people. Well, I knew Casersis was, but I hadn’t yet spent enough time around Erastus to come to any kind of logical conclusion. Because for all I knew, Erastus was just very good at seeming genuinely nice. And I hated it when Casersis expected me to hate someone just because he did. It was fucking exhausting.

Erastus dropped the villain-like cadence to his voice and spoke normally. “I just wanted to check on you.” His sigh made my implant vibrate, tickling my hand. “How is your change coming along?”

I tilted my head, turned around, and leaned my hip against my workbench. “Two fingers left. Why?”

He let out a humorless chuckle. “Because I worry, Dustin. I know you didn’t ask for this, but it isn’t something you can control or reverse. I wanted to see if you were seeing a therapist.”

“Yeah,” I said, sarcastic as anything. “It’d be really great to go to a human therapist and vomit up a story about turning into an elf.”

The wolf went quiet for a few moments, just heartbeats, but it felt like forever. When he finally replied, my stomach knotted. “Casersis can, of course, petition the elven council to afford you an elfin therapist.”

“No.” Hard, succinct. “I’ll deal with it on my own.”

“Dustin—”

“No, Erastus. Going there makes him lose his entire shit with grief. I refuse to put him through that when I can just talk to him.”

“You can talk to me, too,” Erastus offered quietly.

And hell, I didn’t know what to do with that. If Casersis found out, he’d shit kittens. But⁠—

“You are allowed to have friends and acquaintances outside of him,” Erastus said.

“I won’t lie to him.” Sighing, I pinched the bridge of my nose and sagged against my bench. “I appreciate it, Erastus. Really, I do. But, between Cass and I, we can handle it. And fuck, Beth might as well be all our therapist, with the way she mother-hens.”

“As you wish.” I was getting ready to end the call when Erastus added, “The offer will always remain open, Dustin. Always.”

The beep sounded, letting me know Erastus had disconnected the call. And with him gone, I let my hand fall to my side, and I stared off into space for who-knew-how-long.

When I came back to myself, I scrubbed a hand over my face and turned around to pick up my mallet and chisel. These leaves and vines weren’t going to carve themselves.

It was probably twenty or so minutes later when my skin started crawling like I was being watched. And the soul-bond I shared with Casersis thrummed, making me smirk and look up.

“Are you just going to stare at me all day?” I asked.

Casersis grinned, a bashful thing that made my stomach flip in the best way. I loved when he showed his submissive side, and these last few months, he’d been moving from a pompous ass who thought he knew best to my sweet kitten who, while it wasn’t yet consistent, did his best to talk things through with me before he made decisions on my behalf. The steady change in him—in us—did strange things to my heart and even stranger, more wonderful things to the bond that shivered between us whenever he looked at me like that.

“Is it wrong of me to want to watch you work?” he asked.

I put down the chisel and smirked at him again. We had finished the work shed in under a month with the help of Casersis’s best contractors. It was huge, but everything was exactly the way I wanted it. All the benches, sawhorses, and all the tools at my disposal had me itching to do as many projects as possible. But right now, I was getting started on the decorative carvings for the gazebo I wanted to build once the snow abated and the ground dried out from the muddy part of spring. At least, I would be getting started if people would quit interrupting me. But I couldn’t turn down that shy grin if you paid me.

Stepping away from the workbench, I dusted the sawdust off my hands and pulled Casersis to me, molding our bodies together, and kissed him stupid. I always knew when “stupid” hit because he’d melt against me, and when I pulled back, his eyes were unfocused, his pupils blown wide, and he had this starstruck expression that took a few moments to clear away, so he was capable of coherent thought again. Those “few moments” depended on several factors, including if I kissed him again or if I brought him back with a nudge of my nose to his.

“Earth to Cass,” I said, trying to suppress my laughter. He looked so fucking edible that I nipped at his chin. “You okay in there?”

“Huh?” He swayed, and I couldn’t help it anymore. I laughed until he snapped out of it. “You are entirely too smug, beauty. It does not become you.”

I just laughed some more and kissed the tip of his nose. “Did you need anything, kitten, or did you just want a kiss?”

He smirked. “With you, my love, there is never such a thing as ‘just’ a kiss.”

Damn, if that didn’t inflate my ego to ridiculous proportions.

Casersis cleared his throat and hooked his fingers into the side belt loops of my jeans. “I wanted to speak with you about your schooling.”

I groaned and thudded my forehead against his shoulder and reached around to grab fistfuls of his long, inky black hair to give a gentle tug. “I’d rather talk about Erastus’s call, thanks.”

Casersis stiffened. “He called you?”

Oh, shit. I hadn’t meant to let that slip. Taking a deep breath, I wrapped my arms around Casersis’s waist and kissed the creamy skin at the side of his neck. “He did. But I handled it. He just thinks I should see an elf therapist and told me I could talk to him anytime if I needed. He was… kind.” Casersis vibrated in my arms, and I pressed another fierce kiss into the side of his neck. “Calm down, Cass. I shut him down. But maybe an elf therapist wouldn’t be bad. It’s an idea, but I think any problems I or we have, we can handle it ourselves or get Beth’s help.”

It took a moment for Casersis to go pliant against me again. “Are you suffering?”

His question caught me by surprise, and I barked a laugh, startling him. “No, kitten. I’m not suffering. It’s just a lot to take in. The only person I have to talk to about changing species who truly understands what I’m going through is you, and you’ve never seen the amulet work before, and you haven’t gone through such a change yourself, so even you don’t know what I’m going through. And Erastus knows that. I’m not sure if he was actually being kind or if it was a roundabout way of getting under your skin. But as I told him, I won’t lie to you.”

Casersis sighed and gave a slight nod. “Thank you.” Then he looked around, and the moue of disgust he adopted nearly sent me into another laughing fit. The workshop was filthy with dust and wood shavings from all the woodworking I’d been doing. He looked down at himself, and that moue grew more pronounced as he realized I had hugged him while covered in sawdust, and now his dove-gray woolen coat had little blond flecks of synthetic wood all over the front of it. Then he sneezed.

“Oh, Cass.” I chuckled and pushed him toward the door. “Go change before you have a kitten fit.”

“No.” He shivered and took my hand. “No. Would you walk with me? It’s lovely, and I really do wish to speak with you about your schooling. And I’d prefer to do so somewhere that doesn’t tickle my sinuses.”

I let out a groan but went to the locker room and changed out of my coveralls that I wore so I wouldn’t track shit back into the house on my clothes. Once I had my jacket on, I headed out, zipped it up, and then quickly took a lint brush to the front of Casersis’s clothes to get the sawdust off him. It would do for now.

“Let’s go. But let me start this off by saying this is a terrible idea.”

He just grinned at me, his aristocratic features softening with the genuine joy he radiated. “Learning new things is never a terrible idea.”

“Using my brain is a lot less hazardous when I’m dealing with concrete and synthetic wood,” I deadpanned.

“And what if you wanted to own your own construction business in the future?” Casersis asked. He smiled at me when I just stared at him wide-eyed. “Or perhaps you would like to take over the one I own. It isn’t as if I am familiar with all of the inner workings of that business. I pay others who do to run that company for me. With you at the helm, it may start getting more clients like the ones Erastus’s company keeps attracting.”

“So, you’re gunning for my old boss’s clients.” I gave him the stink-eye because he knew how much I loved Joe Nichol. That man had been like a father to me since I first started working for him at sixteen years old. He’d not only taken me on as a kid, but he’d taken me on at full-time hours and taught me a trade that I loved and when I had needed it the most.

And now Casersis wanted to take away his business.

“I am not saying that, beauty,” Casersis said softly. “Being his contemporary, a peer, is something to strive for. There are plenty of clients to go around. There will always be buildings and renovations. But competition is healthy in the business world. I would just like to become a better player on that particular chess board.”

Okay. That, I could live with. And to prove it, I kissed his shoulder. “I’ll think about it.”

“That is all I could ever ask.”

I laced my fingers with his and tugged him out into the snowy lawn. The snow had finally stopped and wasn’t as deep as it could be, but it was still cold and deep and wet. Thank fuck Cass had a path created between my work shed and the gardens that his staff kept plowed so I could get back and forth from there to the house without trudging through knee-deep snow.

“What did you want to talk about?” I asked gently.

Casersis smiled at me and looked out over the sleeping garden. “Spring semester starts soon. I was able to get you an appointment to take the entrance exams at Kireldan University. I wanted… I had hoped you would wish to keep the appointment.”

He squeezed my hand and rushed to explain, “Just because I made the appointment does not mean you must keep it. I just wanted to be prepared in case you agreed. I swear!”

“It’s okay, Cass. I get it.” I squeezed his hand again and bumped my shoulder into his. “I’m not mad. And I’m going to think about it. But fuck. That is a lot of money. I just… that’s so much, Cass.”

“It is not so much,” he promised.

“Not so much?” I barked a laugh. “Jesus, Cass. It’s a fucking Ivy League school! And not just an Ivy League school, but a private Ivy League school that you must have connections to even get an appointment! Their tuition is the highest in the country because of their academic standards and their course list and the fact that they can get billionaires and industry leaders to give presentations and teach classes! It’s… it’s so much!” Then it dawned on me. I had to have connections. When I gave Casersis a shifty glare, he just grinned and ducked his head. “I went to Kireldan a few times, and as an alumnus, I can petition for others to be admitted provided they pass the entrance exam.”

“Oh…”

Thoughts swirled in my head. Arguments, objections, and disbelief warred with the fact that I saw the truth in Casersis’s eyes. To him, it wasn’t so much. To him, it was normal and not expensive because he was one of those billionaires.

I opened and shut my mouth several times until I gave up and slumped my shoulders in defeat. This brought a soft chuckle from Casersis as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

“Ah, my beauty,” he murmured into my hair, “I do so love it when you are flummoxed.” He squeezed, tucked me against his chest, and rocked us from side to side. “Money has no meaning in our lives, Dustin. I make enough of it that other than assigning accountants to ensure proper taxes are paid, I give it little heed. Let it buoy you while you strive to make your own way, whether it be in one of our companies or wherever your heart leads you.”

I went still and squeaked, “Our companies?”

A kiss found its way behind my ear, and Casersis whispered against the shell, “What is mine will always be yours, my alpha.”

Just then, it felt as if my soul exploded. I clung to Casersis’s jacket as I gasped with the sensation. It rocketed from my solar plexus to my fingers and toes, up and out the crown of my head. The shudder that ripped through me matched that which Casersis trembled with. Casersis moaned into my ear.

“What… was that?” I asked through panted breaths.

“I am not quite certain,” came his breathy reply. “However…” He pulled back until he could see my face and stared into my eyes. “However, I must remember that such a simple sentiment can elicit such a stunning response from you.”

Butterflies still tumbled around in my gut, but I laughed. “My romantic kitten.” Leaning my forehead against Casersis’s, I sucked in a deep breath now that my lungs worked again. “Sometimes it feels like we’re going way too fast. Then there are times like now when it feels like we’re not going fast enough.”

“That is your human side warring with your elfin side,” Casersis murmured. We shared breath until I closed the distance for a brief kiss. Casersis explained as he stroked my face. “Elves are more empathic than humans, beauty. You have felt this yourself, as you recall telling me. We usually know, especially when the bond occurs. Humans need time to sift through thoughts, feelings, and reactions to those they care about to find the right match. They need time to date and make mistakes and find the one they mesh with.”

“Sooo,” I drawled, “you don’t have boyfriends and girlfriends?”

His bright laugh jostled our foreheads. “On the contrary, though we call them ‘lovers.’ Elves are rather free with our emotions and bodies until we find our perfect fit.”

“And if we hadn’t bonded?”

Casersis smiled softly and leaned in until our lips brushed with his every word. “As I said before, beauty, I would rather have you as a friend for eternity than not have you in my life at all. The bond was a wondrous gift that I treasure above all else, but trust in that I knew, just in the short time we spoke while your mind was elsewhere, that you would always be special to me.”

I shifted from foot to foot and grinned. “I think we’d better get into the bedroom before someone turns on the sprinklers.”

Nothing prepared me for this utter indifference. All throughout this journey of becoming an elf, I had undergone tremendous pain and suffering, near-death experiences, and fainting episodes. But now that I had only one finger left with a scar from Casersis’s amulet that started magically rewriting my DNA, I was starting to feel lethargic and disinterested in everything. I had to push through the day just to get anything done. Working out was a chore instead of something I loved and took pride in. Working in my shed brought me no joy. And to top it all off, we had wedding stuff to plan, and I was not ready. Tomorrow. We had to deal with that tomorrow. Ugh.

Now, I stood in the yard watching construction teams installing the ball courts, goal posts, and nets that Casersis had bought the security teams for Christmas so they’d have a place to have fun and keep fit during downtime when the weather warmed up.

I shouldn’t have this much trouble focusing. And seeing so many men and women working made me even more tired than when I first came out here.

With a sigh, I rubbed my eyes with my gloved fingers, groaning as the chill from the supple leather seeped into my eyeballs, easing the ache and grit of tired eyes.

Was this even indifference, or was I just worried? Was I just bored? It didn’t feel like my normal boredom. But then again, I had no friends who weren’t part of the staff here at the estate, Erastus, if he counts at all, or Kaudien, my elfin therapist.

Though, that was an awesome friend to have. Kaudien had been my idol since I was a kid, and now that I knew he was always himself, and not generations of kids in the same line, it made the giddy feeling come every time I saw him.

He wasn’t here today, though. I didn’t want to call him for this feeling. It wasn’t something that psychotherapy could help. At least I didn’t think so. I could deal with it for a little longer before calling him. It wasn’t that bad. Yet. Hopefully, it didn’t get that bad.

Speaking of friends, it made me realize that even before I came to live here, I had none. I only had the guys I worked with because I worked too many hours a day to have anything remotely close to a social life. I had needed those hours because I was trying to save up for college.

And now, all of that was taken care of. Casersis was sending me to fucking Kireldan University, and I had access to all his finances. I still couldn’t believe that shit. Jesus. It was hard enough to imagine becoming an elf, but to suddenly become a billionaire, too? Fuck. What even was my life?

Maybe I’d make friends at university. Maybe.

Disgusted, mostly with myself and my depressing thoughts, I headed back into the house after waving at the construction crews. It was too hard not to get into their business when I was used to being the honorary foreman at my old construction job. The stress of not getting in there and working with my hands and calling out instructions was getting to me, and I needed release.

Sexual release sounded good, but Casersis was working, and I promised myself I’d let him work.

Instead, I headed for the dojo part of Casersis’s giant gymnasium, shucked my hoodie and shirt, and went to the wall to pull down the training sword that Casersis bought us. He was too afraid I’d dismember someone, or myself, training with real, sharpened blades.

It made me feel better to be using dulled ones, anyway. The last thing I wanted was a goddamned accident. Casersis would freak. Then he’d blame himself.

I started with sword forms, clearing my head how Casersis and Kaudien taught me. It was starting to become easier. It still wasn’t immediate, but I was getting better at it. Progress meant more to me than immediate results, and it was good to remind myself of that.

Once I started the sword forms, though, the clear head just kind of came on its own. I was able to really let go, and I zoned out, keeping up the practiced movements until I finished, and I was super sweaty from moving that heavy hunk of steel in wide ranges of motion. I may be a strong, strapping young man, but those sword forms were no joke. That sword got heavy after a while.

I wiped my face off with a fluffy white towel from the wall rack and grinned as Casersis blew a kiss at me from the doorway. “I thought I heard you grunting and groaning in here. I had thought you might be having fun without me.”

“Never,” I said as I stepped into his personal space and kissed the tip of his nose. “I thought you were working.”

“I finished early and decided to see what you were up to.”

“Did you finish early on purpose or have a natural break in what needed to be done?”

He gave me a sheepish smile. “Both?”

Snorting, I nipped his cheek and reached into the fridge by the door and pulled out a bottle of water, downing half in one go. “You’re a silly shit.”

“But you love this silly shit,” he said, completely unrepentant and smug as fuck.

“I do,” I admitted. I went to sling a damp arm around his shoulder, but he neatly dodged me and pointed out the door. “Not until you shower. You’re all sweaty, and I love this sweater.”

Another snort and I kissed his cheek. “Share a shower?”

“Then we’ll never get out.”

“That’s never been a problem before.”

He grinned sweetly and pointed to the weapons wall. “Crossbow training first. You started one, might as well get them all in before you quit for the day.”

I did groan that time. I loved the crossbow, but after sword forms, that shit was heavier than the sword and twice as awkward, and I just didn’t want to.

“Don’t you make that face at me, my beauty,” Casersis said. He snickered at me and handed me my shirt and hoodie. “Come. You need this. You’ve been broody all day. Even Don has remarked about it.”

“I haven’t been broody.”

He gave me his disbelieving look, complete with a perked brow that told me I wasn’t fooling anyone. “Try that again.”

Sighing, I went to grab the crossbow and quiver of bolts. “I’m not brooding as much as I’m just… indifferent? Something’s wrong, and I am having trouble enjoying what I’m used to enjoying.”

“Could it just be the changes?” he asked gently.

“Most likely,” I admitted. “True, I’m going through some heavy shit, but that means I don’t have to be okay all the time. Or so Kaudien tells me.”

“He is wise,” Casersis teased. Then he sobered. “Tell me what I can do to help you.”

“You’re already doing it, kitten.” I kissed him sweetly and fastened the quiver around my waist. “I just need you to be understanding when I get really bad. Today’s not a bad day, but I’m definitely feeling it.”

“Talk to me?”

Sighing, I leaned against the wall and covered my face with both hands, breathing in deeply and exhaling slowly before dropping my hands to my sides. “It’s just that I have no friends except a few of the staff, you, Kaudien, and Erastus of all people. And the changes are making me melancholy because I’m trying too hard to mitigate them, I think. Or something.”

“Trying too hard to mitigate them, or not allowing yourself to fully feel them so you can let them go?” Kaudien asked as he entered the gym. He smiled fondly at me and stuffed his hands into his fetish-wear pants with all the straps and zippers a la the early 2000s. “You can’t let them go if you don’t allow yourself to feel the negative emotions. Otherwise, they will just fester and rot you from the inside. It’s hard, but it is necessary.”

I groaned. “You and your fucking logic.”

Kaudien laughed and gave me a lopsided grin. “I can’t help that. Now, what are you going to do?”

I gave him the stink-eye. “Let myself feel shitty emotions that I don’t want, apparently.”

He snorted and pointed to my crossbow. “I meant with that. Did you just finish, or are you going to start?”

“Starting soon,” I said with a grunt as I pushed off the wall. “Though, I really wish I wasn’t going into it upset.”

“Use it to calm your mind. Then, we can have a session when you are done if you’d like.”

“Probably a good idea, yeah.”

He nodded, winked, and headed out, calling from the hall, “I’ll await you in your office.”

I hated to tell him that he’d be waiting a while because crossbow practice or any kind of sustained physical activity ended up with me fucking Casersis six ways from Sunday. But then again, with that wink, he probably did know. And if not, he would soon.

When he left, Casersis stepped up to me and wrapped his arms around my neck and kissed me, just a peck on the lips to make me smile, and smile I did. It was hard not to when he was being cute.

“You are so easy to manipulate,” he said with a wink. “Just a kiss and all your thoughts go away, and you smile as if I’d given you a gift.”

“But you did give me a gift. Kisses make great gifts.”

His shy grin was also a great gift, and I kissed him a little longer, a lot deeper, and hugged him a little tighter to show my appreciation. When I pulled back, he had that “been kissed stupid” look on his face again, and I chuckled, nudging his nose with mine until he closed his mouth and opened his eyes. “You are entirely too smug, beauty.”

“You like it when I’m smug.”

“I do.” But he fake-pouted.

“Should we go?”

He sighed and leaned his forehead against mine, and closed his eyes. “Are you sure I can’t do anything to help you? I know working isn’t going to help.”

I shrugged. “To be honest, working out, working in my shed—nothing interests me lately, and it’s scaring me.”

“I can understand that,” he said softly. “You’re undergoing a lot of stress, and you used those as coping mechanisms. You may be suffering a bit of burnout from the things you once loved for that reason. Perhaps we should try some other things.”

“Like?”

“I do not know. But we can think of things later. For now, I want to see how well you do with the crossbow. I’ve been meaning to get your assessment done.” He combed his fingers through my ponytail and purred. “Your hair is getting so long.” Then he grew a little more serious and tugged my hand. “Come. Let us get you into a jacket and out into the yard. I want to see how your aim is progressing.”

“It’s not,” I moaned. “It’s really not.”

“Nonsense. You have been practicing every day. You may not see your progress, and that is why I wish to see for myself.”

I grinned at him because leave it to Casersis to make me feel better about my shitty aim.

We headed out into the yard and stood across from the targets. I really wanted to impress Casersis with my aim, but I had my doubts. I shoved them aside, though, when he motioned for me to take my first shot.

With a deep breath, I bent at the waist, hooked my feet in the cocking stirrup, pulled back the string, brought it back up, loaded the bolt, and took aim. Already my arm shook because of the strength needed to pull back the string. But I took aim, did my best to steady the shake in my arm, and pulled the trigger.

The bolt hit the target about halfway between the outer rim and the bullseye near the lower left quadrant. I sighed, but Casersis clapped. “Very well done!”

“What?”

Casersis tilted his head at me. “You hit the target, Dustin. Remember when you first started? Then, you couldn’t even hit the target. But, look how far you are progressing! You’ve steadily been hitting the target lately. Your shot pattern is closing in. Soon you will be able to adjust your aim to hit the bullseye. You are doing well!”

I hadn’t thought about it like that. I always saw not hitting the bullseye as a failure. Huffing a laugh, I pulled Casersis to me and kissed him. “Thank you.”

Casersis gave me a beautiful grin that made me want to take him inside and do naughty, dirty things to him. He must have seen my thoughts cross my face or felt it over our soulbond because his cheeks flushed scarlet, and he gave me the filthiest grin.

Yeah. We were going to have fun real soon.

“Get on with your practicing, my alpha,” he crooned. “I want what that look promised, but not until you’ve finished with all thirty shots.”

I had twenty-nine more bolts to go through, and I didn’t know if I could function after blowing through them all, especially since I was rushing, much to my omega’s amusement if his snickering was anything to go by while I hurriedly pulled back the bowstring and loaded another bolt.

I’d never run through that many bolts that fast before. It nearly killed my arms and hands, but I managed to get every single one of them into the target, and not in the forest. Which was great because it meant I didn’t have to waste time searching for the fucking things in the dense undergrowth.

“You did well,” Casersis said breathlessly. “Now, let’s go get your reward.”

Snorting, I stepped up to him and hooked the crossbow onto my belt. “You mean your reward for not molesting me while I was trying to practice?”

Casersis bit his lip.

“I thought so.”

Laughing, he pulled me to him, and I claimed his mouth like I owned it. But, then again, I might as well own it because I owned him as much as he owned me. And I was under no illusions that he owned me, body and soul. But I loved every minute of it.

As I kissed him, tongue and teeth and breathing each other’s foggy breaths, I kneaded his ass to make him squirm against me as I shoved a knee between his legs for him to grind on. God, I couldn’t get enough of him. His taste sent me into a hormonal tailspin. His scent made me want to devour him. And the feel of him rutting against me was so decadent that I just wanted to stand there for hours making out with my soulmate.

We stood there for who-knew-how-long, and when Casersis pulled back for air, I nipped at his lower lip, which turned into him biting mine. That turned into me tickling him. He fell to the ground, dragging me with him. We rolled around in the snow, both trying to get the upper hand as I tried getting at his sensitive areas, but his coat foiled my plans. But our tickle fight turned into a play fight that had several of the work crews coming over to pull us apart.

Laughing, I got up when one of the guys hauled me back. Dusting off my ass, I waited for Casersis to stop panting before reaching for him. He batted away one of the guys and let me help him up. “We are fine,” he said. “It was just play.”

“Sorry,” the foreman said. “We thought⁠—”

“I know,” Casersis said. “And I thank you for your concern. Trust that my fiancé would not abuse me so, and it was just a friendly scuffle for training.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Ardal.”

The crew went back to their work, and I poked Casersis in the side. “I won that.”

He narrowed his eyes. “How do you figure?”

“I was on top.”

“I can top from the bottom,” Casersis said haughtily.

“So can I,” I teased. “Want to try it?”

He grabbed my hand and dragged me to the back door.

The rusty cage door slammed with a metallic ring that sounded… final. I felt the reverberation down to my soul. Glancing around, I saw the same sentiment in the eyes of the young men surrounding me, all of us naked and chained, waiting for the auction to begin.

“You’re a bit old,” one of the slavers growled, his eyes pinned on me.

He reached through the bars and grabbed my collar, dragging me closer. I held my breath against the fetid stink emanating from his mouth and the teeth that had rotted in his head. His rheumy eyes narrowed, and he muttered a curse. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.” He sneered. “Man your age…” His snort turned into a brief coughing fit, probably from the cigar hanging from his chipped and yellowed teeth. “Best hope you sell, you little fuck. Better to be a slave on your back than toiling in fields or mines.”

I swallowed hard and averted my gaze like the cowed dog I was, whispering, “Yes, sir.”

The slaver spat beside the cell and released my collar, rough but gentle enough not to damage me. He wanted us unmarred for our new owners, so we fetched higher prices.

I felt like scoring my nails across my pale skin, drawing blood in any way I could, but I knew it would do little more than earn me a degrading punishment.

Someone huddled against my back. I looked over my shoulder to find a child who couldn’t be more than thirteen years quaking, tears streaking his sweet face and terror in his pale blue eyes. He was stunning. It made me sick that he would be sold to some pedophile for an exclusive sexual conquest.

How many of these boys would be dead in a year or less, whether by their masters’ hands or their own? How many would die inside and become empty shells with lifeless eyes and no hope?

My eyes burned, and I turned to draw him against my chest, rocking us both as I hummed a song I’d heard my mam sing to one of my brothers—never to me. Then when the dam broke, the boy sobbed against my chest, his hot tears scalding my flesh, his hands fisted against my sternum, his elbows tucked tight to his sides as if becoming as small as possible could save him from the horror we were about to live through.

One of the slavers passed, and the child clinging to me gagged. I tried not to as well. All of us in this cage had been freshly washed to appeal more to the disgusting pigs raucously laughing and jeering in the crowd a room over.

Yet even in this tropical heat, everyone else had gone days without bathing, sometimes longer, and the stench of sour, unwashed bodies was enough to ensure I’d have a poor stomach for a week after this if I didn’t end up somewhere worse.

The door latch was loud in the quiet room. None of us dared say anything; if we did, it was little more than scared whispers. When it swung open, my stomach swooped as dozens of men filed in. Every eye came to rest on the cage. Some leered at our nakedness. Others seemed aloof.

One man, in particular, stared right into my eyes with a devilish grin showing straight, white teeth on his devastatingly handsome face. Something about that smile made him seem ugly and set my skin crawling. His pitch-black hair was tied back at his nape, setting off his clear hazel eyes set in a suntanned face under sculpted brows. His pupils steadily expanded with lust, nauseating me.

Unlike the other men here, he looked like he at least bathed regularly.

“Deverell!” called one of the slavers, grinning wide as if greeting an old friend. The man who had looked at me as if I were his next meal snapped his head around with a thunderous expression I hoped no one ever aimed at me. It promised blood and pain. But he gave a tight smile as the slaver approached and shook his hand. “Here for another boy? The last one didn’t suit?” The slaver guffawed, unaware of the danger in Deverell’s eyes. “They never do for long, do they? Did this one get keelhauled like the last?”

I swallowed hard and buried my face in the soft blond hair of the boy who still clung to me for dear life. I knew it was cowardly, but I didn’t have it in me to care at that moment. Caring would mean I had the power to change my lot in life, but that privilege had been handily stripped away from me the moment my parents sold me as a slave to pay the family debts.

I wanted to cry but had no tears left. So instead, I breathed in a lungful of air, reached down deep into the pits of my resolve, and found just enough backbone to straighten my spine, square my shoulders, and stare a challenge back into hazel eyes that promised pain if I didn’t please him.

How many others had failed to please him for this man to look at me so? What had happened to them? And would I survive being next?

A chill raced up my spine, causing a cascade of gooseflesh to wash over me. I eased the boy away from my chest. I hoped he found someone better. I had heard the slavers talking about some of the gentler masters who only wanted companionship. I hoped at least this boy found one of those because, by the look in Deverell’s gaze, I knew exactly who my master would be. Unfortunately, my gut was rarely wrong about the characters of the people I met.

“If you value your cock, Marlin, you will hold your tongue regarding my personal affairs.”

Marlin must have heard the sheer, cold violence in Deverell’s clipped tone as he paled and stuttered profuse apologies that Deverell soundly ignored. Then he returned his attention to me, narrowed his eyes, turned on his heel, and elegantly stormed out the door without a look back.

He could have fancied someone else, but the fatalistic realization that I was to be won by that man wound around my spine and up through my throat to choke me. He’d win me if he had to go broke to do it. I saw that determination in his eye, saw the affront on his face that he even had to bid for me, and I knew then that I would never be the same again after he got his hands on me. Not in a nice way.

“They’re too young,” I heard one of the patrons whisper.

His companion chuckled. “All the better, man. Bid on one of the older ones if the younger lads don’t suit.”

A third slapped the second man’s shoulder with a harsh laugh. “It’s what they get for flaunting their arses at us and then not lying on their backs like they’re supposed to.”

My gut tightened, but I kept my head down and my mouth shut. I was naked, collared, outnumbered, and half-starved. There was no way I’d make it more than fifteen feet, even if I could get the chain off and the cage doors open.

The jingle of many keys on an iron ring had my blood running cold, making my skin clammy. Then, finally, it was time, and I was unprepared for the fear that raced through my veins. My hands started shaking the moment the cage door opened. I struggled to take in air, the room closing in on me.

And then the slaver grabbed me by the collar and dragged me toward the center of the room. I followed on wooden legs, all sensation having fled along with my breath. I must have blacked out, as the next thing I knew, my collar’s chain was attached to the wall with the other boys chained to me and each other.

At least I wouldn’t have to wait to meet my fate much longer.

The slaver unhooked me from the wall, led us through a doorway, and lined us against another wall in a dark hallway. The murmur of the crowd in the adjoining room rose and fell in waves as men worked the crowd, getting them hungry for the upcoming auction.

The boy behind me huddled against my back like a second skin, shaking and sucking in sobbed breaths as the panic set in. I couldn’t bring myself to turn and coddle him. It would only make what was about to happen all that much worse. I couldn’t do that to either of us. It wouldn’t be fair or kind.

Finally, after what felt like decades of standing and shivering in the dark, a man I hadn’t seen before stepped up and attached an oiled leather lead to the front of my collar before disconnecting me from the wall and the boy behind me. He took a second to attach the boy to the wall, then he led me like a dog through a door into a bright room filled with the cloying, sour stench of unwashed bodies and the ravenous eyes of masses of men ranging in ages from those able-bodied and hale to those with stooped backs and not a tooth in their heads.

A shudder of revulsion rippled through me, and the slaver growled at me softly, “Keep your mouth shut and look pretty.”

I pressed my lips into a thin line to keep from telling him what he could do with his threats. The last thing I needed was a beating. But he fisted a hand in my hair, making me cry out. He hissed in my ear. “I said to look pretty. Don’t think I won’t stop the bidding on the worst of our clients just to make you suffer.”

I swallowed hard against a whimper and whispered, “Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

He then dragged me by the lead into the room. I looked around with eyes I was sure were too wide and bright in the flickering light. In the center of the room, at the end of a long, narrow walkway, stood a stage that glowed under harsh lights—the sconces bright, oil lamps brighter, and a ring of fire surrounded the stage to keep buyers out and slaves from escaping while giving every man in the place a good view of our naked bodies from all angles.

It was terrifying.

Beyond the stage were hundreds of people, their faces obscured in the darkness, only the front few rows visible in the firelight. But their shadowy outlines made the space eerie, especially when their gazes strayed to us.

I shivered, even in the oppressive heat. The revulsion rippled through me until I felt ill. Those eyes promised pain and misery. All except one who gave me a feral grin as if he were about to eat whoever he won in a not-fun way.

I shuddered again.

The slaver—Hans, if memory served—side-eyed me and tugged lightly on my lead as we walked toward the platform. “You’ll do well to show appreciation,” he growled low. His fetid breath wafted my way and made my stomach roll. “Get a good buyer, and you might like your captivity, little mouse. Look pretty for the sharks, will you?”

I knew better than to make a scene. The last time I had, I’d been struck in the head and knocked unconscious by the slaver who bought me from my parents. It was supposed to be indentured servitude. Only the blaggards had failed to tell my family that my destination would be as a pleasure servant, someone whose sole purpose was to sexually satisfy whoever could afford my purchase.

Hans led me to the center of the stage and attached my leather lead to a ring attached to the floor behind me. He growled at me to hold my wrist behind my back, tense my stomach muscles, and square my shoulders to show my posture and musculature.

It hurt. I was half-starved and hadn’t had any water since that morning, and the tropical heat demanded hydration. And now, staring into a sea of unfettered malice, my mouth turned into cotton and ash, my saliva turning as sticky as any glue I had ever used as it dried up faster than a twig on a campfire.

The circle of flames surrounding me scorched my skin, combining with the tropical summer heat to have me drenched in sweat before Hans even started the bidding. The effect had my skin glistening, which whipped the audience into a quiet frenzy.

One man, in particular, seemed hell-bent on winning me. His black eyes stayed riveted to my cock, his grin showing two gold teeth, his bearing stooped and aged, and evil rolled off him in waves.

That man wanted to hurt me, and I hoped someone else’s pockets were deeper and heavier than his. Almost anyone else seemed better in this instance.

Then my mind returned to Deverell, and I forced myself to reroute my thoughts before panic gripped me. Both wanted to cause me pain.

A gavel smacked against the sound block, startling me enough that I jumped and caused a chorus of jeers and filthy calls as my sex bounced with the movement. My cheeks flared hot, the heat traveling down my neck and chest to paint my fair skin crimson, which only excited them further.

But Deverell’s keen gaze stared into my eyes, daring me to look away once he caught my attention. Unlike the other who had bid, he stood confident and tall, and his feral grin was all smugness and glistening teeth. He oozed satisfaction as I was dragged back off the stage and into a holding cell to await my new owner to claim me after remitting payment.

This slaver smirked at me as he clapped me in manacles and shackles, speaking as if I hadn’t already been “introduced” to the man. “Lucky you, lad. Your new master is Captain Vincent Deverell. Have fun with that.”

He clanged the cage shut with a sneer and turned his back to drag the next poor soul onto the auction block.

Now, I had never felt like I belonged anywhere. But here, in this stinking hole of a building, I wanted nothing more than to go back and appreciate what I’d had a lot more than when I was free, even if we were one of the starving poor and my father an abusive arsehole.

At least I had fetched a decent price when my family had sold me off. They had just enough left after settling their debts that I had no doubt they’d make every coin stretch until it wept to feed them for the next several years. And now I had fetched an even higher price, which made me proud that my family would never see a cent of it and made my skin crawl in equal measure.

A commotion coming nearer dragged my thoughts, kicking and screaming, back to the present. I swallowed hard as I saw a strange man storming toward the cage.

“Get him out of there,” he said, his voice a low growl that still managed to carry like a bellow. “Get him cleaned up. And for fuck’s sake, get clothes on him. I don’t need sickness spreading across my captain’s ship once we leave port.”

“Yes, sir,” one of the slavers said quickly. “I will hurry.”

The oily little man came and unlatched the cage before jerking me out by my collar, his grip strong for as short and fat as he was. The man smacked the slaver upside the head, fisted his shirt, jerked him forward, bringing me with him, and growled low and so menacing that the man pissed his trews. “Be careful with my captain’s property,” he snarled. “Hurt him again, and I will rip out your spine and use your carcass as fish bait.”

“Y—yes, sir!”

The newcomer was definitely not Deverell but seemed to be employed by him. He had kind eyes when he looked at me, but the tightness around them and the grim set to his mouth spoke of distaste and disapproval. What had I done to upset this man?

The slaver eased up on my collar and dragged me more slowly toward the back, where he threw clean clothes at me. I dressed quickly, glad to no longer have my bits flashing at leering men, and winced as the slaver returned my shackles to my wrists and ankles before dragging me back before my new master’s associate.

“What is your name, boy?” he demanded darkly.

“Faolan,” I whispered.

“Family name?”

I gulped. “Davenport.”

“Were they lying about being a virgin?” His eyes homed in on my neck, inspecting the skin around my collar. I assumed he checked me for injury as he said, “Do not lie to me.”

“I am,” I whispered even softer.

“Excellent.”

He grabbed my bicep in a deceptively gentle hold, his fingers tougher than my irons but more forgiving. The man led me through the crowds of people with questionable hygiene and breath that stank of rancid spirits and rotting teeth.

By the time we made the front door, it was all I could do not to lose my stomach from an unhealthy dose of nerves. Especially once I saw where he took me.

Red sails with black edging made my heart plummet.

The golden figurehead at the ship’s bow was a hideous woman with fangs, her arms bolted to the ship on either side, her feet nailed together as if she were crucified. A golden noose was so tight around her neck that the artist etched in the skin bulges, her neck sitting at a sharp angle as if broken when she hung from the gallows.

My skin crawled at the hate-filled, dead-eyed stare that was all too eerie as they looked to be inlaid white shells and onyx into the yellow gilding. Her mouth was open in a feral scream, even though she was supposed to be dead from a broken neck. It gave her a demonic air.

I whimpered and tore my eyes from the garish sight.

Pirates.

My master was a pirate captain.

I was so fucked.

How had my life come to this? Why hadn’t I left my family long before they grew tired of my predilection for the hard, sinfully defined muscles of male beauty rather than the soft curves of any female? I couldn’t help who attracted my attention, but they’d accused me of everything from fucking the neighborhood young men to pedophilia to being possessed by the devil.

Just once, I wanted to be loved.

And just once, I would like to feel the gentle touch of a man who loved me. But alas, judging by the almost sad look this man gave me, that wish would never bear fruit.

With my heart sore and my stomach in knots, I ascended the well-maintained gangplank with my keeper behind me. Once I reached the top, he stopped me with a surprisingly tender touch. The next moment, my neck was free of the collar, and he rounded to undo my wrist and ankle bindings.

I stood there, gaping at him as if he’d just grown another head. “Sir?”

He hushed me and drew me toward the back of the ship. “I’m Karn, the ship’s physician.” He stopped and circled me, checking my neck, wrists, and ankles as if checking a bull for lameness and disease. When he was done, he grabbed my bicep in that firm but gentle hold and led me to the red door with gold details and fancy beveled glass inserts in a setting sun pattern.

He opened it to show me opulence, the likes of which I’d never even dreamed of. The cabin was larger than the house I’d shared with my parents and brothers. It had a hole in the corner with a lid and latch. Next to it were two tubs filled with steaming water. Next to those stood two stools—one with fluffy towels and washcloths, the other with soaps and scrub brushes and a large pitcher.

“Cap’n Deverell prides himself in the cleanliness of himself and his officers,” he murmured. “I know they had you bathe before the auction, but the cap’n wants you to scrub up and get the auction stink off you. Wash twice in one tub. Then after rinsing, wash again in the other.”

He motioned toward a vanity bolted to the floor with items strapped down with leather thongs on the mahogany top. “Groom yourself, and I’ll be back by to trim your hair. The captain likes it long, but yours is a mess.”

I nodded dumbly and whispered my thanks, hoping politeness would get me leniency.

I immediately went to the tub because I hated being filthy. I didn’t even hear Karn leave, but he was gone when I next looked up.

Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, I washed quickly. It took precious minutes to get the dirt out of the cracks in my feet and hands, to get the dirt out from under my ragged nails, and to get the filth of the slave pens off me.

No matter what I did, it felt like I’d never get clean enough. Even after finishing washing my hair for the sixth time, I could still smell the reek of stale piss, shit, and dead rats. I shuddered in revulsion from the vivid memory. I doubted I’d be rid of those haunting visions and scent memories for the next decade.

With a deep breath, I stood and grabbed the pitcher, dragging it through the bucket of clean water next to the tub, and started rinsing off, letting the hot water soothe my aching muscles and wash away some of my tension. Once I was dry and dressed, I worked on my hair, combing out the snarls. It fell just below my shoulders in a wave that I let air dry while I attacked my face with foam and razor. He apparently didn’t like me with a beard. I shared that opinion.

Then I tackled my gnawed fingernails and overlong, split, ragged toenails before throwing on socks and shoes, cleaning up as best I could, and tying my hair back at the nape with the ribbon I’d found atop my new clothes.

New clothes… I hadn’t had those since I was a toddler, I think. I couldn’t rightly remember the last I’d had them. I think, when I was six, mother had made me a set from an old, threadbare bedsheet, though I doubt that counted.

Karn returned to the cabin and made me sit down. After untying my hair, he trimmed off the dead ends and left again without a word. I sat there for a long moment, not sure what to do when I glanced over at the dirty water in the bathtubs.

When I exited the captain’s quarters, I carried two buckets of gross bathwater to toss over the ship’s side. Captain Deverell saw me, and he narrowed his eyes and pointed at me, calling out over the noise of the shipmates loading up the last of the freshwater barrels and getting things ready to set sail. “Set those down. I’ll have Miggins deal with it.”

Even in the tropical heat, I shivered, and Deverell came in close. He removed his coat and draped it over my shoulders. It smelled of spice and clean musk, the scent oddly comforting as he settled it neatly. Even as built as I was from hard labor, I had been starved by the slavers who wanted us willowy to attract more coin from lecherous men. I swam in that coat as Captain Deverell was much wider and taller than me at six feet to my five-foot-ten.

Taking in a deep breath, I looked at him shyly. His hazel eyes darkened with hunger, and I knew I’d made the right move. If I kept him interested, he might treat me well the entire time I was his slave. Though, the thought of his hands on my skin made my heart recoil so bad I felt faint.

Captain Deverell grabbed me by both shoulders and looked into my eyes, suddenly sharp. “You just went white. What’s wrong?”

I swallowed hard and voiced the first lie that came to mind. “I am hungry, Master.”

His jaw worked, and he nodded before calling out, “Lark! Fetch a meal for my boy. Tea, fish, vegetables, and a scone with jam.”

My stomach chose that moment to squeal petulantly, and he turned a surprisingly gentle smile on me. “Worry not. We will get you fed. Now, go sit on the stairs until we’re underway.”

“Yes, Master.”

I turned, and he hissed and stopped me with a hand on my shoulder before pulling down the coat collar to inspect my neck. Cringing at his feral growl, I tried to pull away, but he held me still with barely any strain. “Hold still, boy.”

Rigid, I let him inspect me and tried not to hold my breath. Then I tried not to pant with the panic. Anger rolled off the captain like a thick fog. It choked me to the point I couldn’t get enough air.

“Someone has damaged you,” he snarled. “Who was it?”

“I—I don’t know his name, Master,” I said in a rush. “I only knew Hans’s name; it wasn’t him.”

Karn came up, wiping his hands on a scrap of cloth. “It was Stephen. I’ll take care of him while the men prepare to sail.”

Captain Deverell glared at him but softened just enough that he looked almost like a decent human being. “Send Barnes. I will not have others abusing my property.”

Property.

Tears scalded my eyes, but I blinked them back.

I shivered again. My Master glanced back at me and cupped my cheek, rubbing his thumb across my lower lip. “Go back into the cabin to warm yourself and eat,” he said quietly. Then he turned to Karn. “Treat his wounds and see if anything else is wrong with him. Then devise a meal plan to get some meat on his bones before winter hits.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Karn led the way, and I carefully handed the captain his coat before following. When we got inside, he nodded to the table bolted to the floor with a spread of food so large I knew I’d not be able to eat it all with as much as my stomach had shrunk. Then the smell hit me. My face went up in flames as my stomach let out a loud squeal causing Karn to frown at me. “When’s the last you ate?”

“This morning. We had a small bit of porridge.”

“They starved you.”

I hesitated before twitching my head into a minute nod. “Yes, sir. They wanted us small to entice higher bids.”

Karn growled and stomped off to a corner of the room before returning with a bag he dropped onto the table. He grumbled to himself about imbeciles and retribution.

After he patched up my neck, wrists, and ankles, he cursed up a storm before stomping out with a growl that he’d return soon. When he entered again, he had a bag that he pulled a large jar from. Karn came back over and motioned to me up and down with a finger. “Undress. Your skin is practically sloughing off.”

I winced. My skin had been painful since leaving Ireland. The only reprieve I ever got was when they doused us in seawater. But when Karn massaged the cream into my parched skin, it didn’t feel awful after the initial intense burn. My skin eased a bit, but I wished I could swim as I used to every day on the Emerald Isle.

“You’re to massage this into your skin after every bath and before bed. I’ll tell Master to massage it into your back every night.”

My stomach plummeted. I didn’t want that man touching me. I didn’t want his hands anywhere near me.

When he finished slathering me in salt-scented cream, I dressed, and Karn looked at me strangely before motioning to my food and sitting across from me. “We’ll be heading out soon. But before I set Barnes to go box some ears, you need to know a few things about your new Master.”

He steepled his fingers before his chin and regarded me with pale blue eyes lightly shaded by strawberry blond fringe. “Captain Deverell is a fair man but strict and demanding. He bought you as a pleasure slave, so he expects you to let him fuck you.”

I paled, and he shook his head. “Stop that. If he gets even a hint that you’re disgusted with his touch, you may suffer the same fate as his other conquests.”

“That’s all I’ll ever be,” I whispered. “A conquest to throw away when he’s done with me.”

Karn shrugged. “Please him, and you won’t get thrown away.”

He sighed and raked his fingers through his short-shorn hair. “Some things you need to know. He expects sex, Faolan. You can’t get away from that. But he’s kind with his lovers, gentle. He will not force you, but his patience isn’t infinite.” He wrinkled his nose. “He is also possessive and will not allow others to harm you. And if he finds out they did, they will pay the price, not you.”

I blinked at him. “What?”

Karn shrugged again. “You don’t punish the sheep for getting kicked. You punish the idiot doing the kicking.”

That made a sick kind of sense, and I hated being likened to a fecking sheep. But he ignored my indignant look and plowed on. “He expects you to keep yourself clean, tidy, and loyal. Do not, under any circumstances, make him jealous. And if it happens, make sure not to lie. If it is the other person’s fault, do not hesitate to tell him or me. He doesn’t allow anyone else to play with his toys.”

I swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Lastly, he prefers his bed partners to be enthusiastic without being demanding and shameless.” He gave me a pointed stare. “And I mean honestly enthusiastic. But he doesn’t mind if you make him work for it. He likes teasing and flirting. He will not, however, tolerate you sleeping anywhere other than beside him in his cabin’s bed.”

My face flared with heat, and I looked down, suddenly no longer hungry. Karn must have noticed as he pointed to my plate. “Eat. I don’t care how long it takes you, try and eat the whole plate. You need to gain weight and muscle. He expects you to help around the ship, and he expects you to fill out so you don’t look like a walking skeleton.”

With a deep breath, I dutifully took a bite of fish, moaning at the taste before I attacked the plate like a starved dog. Pleased, Karn stood and pushed his chair in. “Settle in, Faolan. We’ll be at sea for months with only brief port stops while Captain Deverell looks for a way to salvage our lost ship’s cargo from the sea floor.” Then he stared at me with a glint in his eye. “And stay away from the brig. I’ll give you a tour of the ship after we set sail.”

With that, he left without a look back. Now that I was finally alone, the anxiety slammed into me with the force of a hurricane. My chest constricted until I curled in on myself. I shoved the plate away, careful not to break anything or send things flying, and rested my head on the cool table as I fought to breathe.

I could do this.

I would survive, come what may.

It was always great to be back in Trident Cove. The salt tang in the air tasted like home as I drove down the winding road toward the beach house where I grew up. With the wind ruffling my hair from the open window and the rising volume of the crashing waves drowning out the soft rock on the radio, I switched the music off and let out a deep, cleansing sigh. I basked in the simple pleasure of the perfect summer day—the warm sun, gentle breeze, clear sky, and the beckoning waves that called to me like nothing else in this world.

Now that my residency had come to an end, I was finally able to go home and relax for a few weeks. Visiting mom and soaking in the aquamarine water of our private cove would be just what the doctor ordered.

I should know. I was now officially a doctor.

And I hated it. Maybe I’d be better as a pediatrician or something, as I really did love healing and helping people, but spending the last six months in the ridiculously busy ER with drunken, belligerent patients, tweaked-out drug addicts attacking me for narcotics, and superiors so harried and sleep-deprived they had zero filter, making them either mean or apathetic… I let out a sigh. It was disheartening in the extreme, and I needed a few weeks home to decompress and consider my options. I knew I had some; I just couldn’t list them yet.

As I drove down, I forcefully wrenched my head out of work worries and into vacation mode. It was strange to be back as if I’d been gone for three lifetimes, but it also felt like I’d never left in some ways. The trees lining the drive were still vibrant, with green foliage ringed by equally green grass and shrubs that abruptly thinned out into a well-manicured lawn on either side to create a picturesque avenue welcoming me home. A two-story Victorian house, with its wide wrap-around porch, picturesque bay windows, and widow’s walk between two towers with stained glass windows, all edged in decorative trim and capped in the steep, gabled roof, sat to the right at the edge of a circular driveway. And beyond, the sea stretched out into infinity.

As I looked for playful dolphins, a car passed me, going in the opposite direction a little too fast. With a frown, I sped up. Now that I came up over the hill, I could see the same sand dunes and beach grass I used to play in when I was little, leading down to the waves gently lapping at the shore.

I didn’t dawdle, though. I parked in the drive right across from the front porch and shut off the ignition.

Then I noticed the open front door.

Getting out, I called to the house, “Mom?”

It wasn’t unusual for her to leave the doors open for a cross-breeze, but not with the screen doors open as well. And with the speeding car headed away, my gut churned uneasily.

“Mom?”

Leaving my bags in the car, I slammed the door and jogged up the front walk, took the porch steps two at a time, and paused at the entrance to look around. “Mom?”

When I heard no answer, panic gripped my chest in a vise, making it hard to breathe as I started jogging through the rooms. Then, when I skidded into the kitchen, my world crashed down around me.

“Mom…”

I choked on the word as I fell to my knees next to her prone body, avoiding the blood on the floor. Checking for a pulse with shaking fingers was harder than I imagined, but after a deep breath filled with the stink of blood, I shored up my nerves and tried again to find… nothing.

Swallowing hard, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed 9-1-1 with my heart in my throat and burning eyes.

“Yes, I’d like to report a murder.”

I didn’t know what to do with myself. The funeral was twelve days ago, and all I could do was sit on mom’s—my couch and stare into middle distance. Everything felt surreal, as if I were dreaming while awake, though it wasn’t a dream but a nightmare.

Sabrina Fairweather had been my rock since the day she adopted me at three years old after a year of fostering me. She gave me her name, gave me a home, and, most importantly, gave me the love and encouragement I needed to succeed in anything I set out to do, including becoming a doctor.

She’d paid for my schooling. She’d paid for my everything.

And now she was gone.

It wasn’t about money or material things. It was about my mom’s love and support. It was about the hole in my heart where my mom’s laugh should be. It was about the chill in my bones that only her hugs could chase away. It was about the echoing silence in a house that should be full of life and mom’s singing, the oven creaking and thumping, followed by her fresh baked bread cooling on the counter and making the place smell amazing.

I rubbed the area over my broken heart with a watery sigh and put my head in my hands.

My foster brothers and sisters were all taken care of by her will, with sizable chunks of money going to all four. I got the rest, including the estate and the nearby private cove the city was named for, and the private stretch of beach just beyond the dunes.

I didn’t want it, though. I’d rather have my mom, but here we are.

Something tickled my cheek, and I wiped at it to find I’d been crying without realizing it. I sniffled and looked around helplessly. What would I even do with this much house? I wasn’t married. I didn’t know if I even wanted kids. And I didn’t want to rent to someone only to have my childhood home destroyed by a potentially horrible tenant.

My phone buzzed in my back pocket, startling me out of my spiraling thoughts. Pulling it out, I sniffled down my tears before checking the caller ID. And with a groan, I answered. “Hey, bro.”

“Hey, yourself,” Jordan said softly. “How you holding up?”

I groaned again and he chuckled sadly. “I get it. Need company?”

Did I? “Yes.”

“I’ll be there in ten.” Two beeps told me he’d ended the call without giving me time to backpedal. Probably for the best.

True to his word, Jordan knocked on my door approximately nine minutes later. When I answered, he jerked me into an all-consuming hug. I grunted and inhaled his scent of coconut oil and shea butter deep into my lungs as I hugged him tighter.

He pressed a kiss into my hair. “You okay?”

“No.”

He nodded against my head as I buried my face into the side of his neck like I used to do when we were younger, and I was afraid. I had been with mom longer, but I was still younger by five years. “I miss mom, too,” he whispered.

After a moment of hugging my closest brother, I pulled away to find he had tears in his eyes, too. So, as mom would always do, I dragged him into the kitchen for a slice of cake. Of course, it was store-bought instead of homemade, but we didn’t care right then. Normalcy was more important than authenticity.

Jordan gave me a sad smile, crow’s feet standing out next to his expressive, warm black eyes. “What’s got you stumped?”

Shrugging, I looked around the kitchen before returning to his mahogany skin and textured black hair, grounding myself with the knowledge that he really was here with me. I wasn’t dreaming. Mom really was dead. “I don’t know what to do with this much house. It’s too big for me, and the rest of you all have homes.”

“Mom wanted you to have it because she knew you’d love it and need a place to come and relax when you vacation away from your super important doctor duties,” he said gently. He squeezed my hand, his callused fingers gripping mine tightly. “Just let it sit for a while, yeah? Keep it clean and kept up, even if you have to hire someone to come and do the work for you, and just let it sit until you’re ready to make a decision. It doesn’t have to be now, Em.”

I smiled at the nickname. “Thanks.”

He gently knocked a fist against my shoulder. “What’s family for?”

With Jordan gone home, I abandoned everything in the kitchen to have some time to myself. I’d deal with it all later. I wasn’t a slob in any way, shape, or form, but I wasn’t above postponing dishes and kitchen cleanup when I needed to get out of my head instead of delving into it as I tended to do when mindlessly doing inane chores.

The attic posed the perfect solution. I’d always loved playing up here. Pushing open the heavy oak door, I drew in a deep lungful of air. This attic always had a distinctive scent like old mothballs and dust, but mom kept it immaculate as best she could.

As the door swung wide, I stepped into the multicolored light from the stained glass windows and looked around. Old seafaring trunks stood against one wall, apparently over two hundred years old and passed down through the generations in mom’s family. Plastic totes lined another wall for holiday decorations, mementos, and old junk mom could never convince herself to donate or get rid of. And in the corner between an old cherry wood armoire and a 1920s phonograph on a gilded pedestal sat a trunk covered in seashells that I’d always dreamed of.

The thing was massive, almost big enough to hold a five-year-old’s body. Sea shells adhered to two-inch thick slabs of coral rock that peeked out from between some of the more irregularly shaped shells. It was stunningly beautiful with so many dazzling colors that I had always been attracted to it. It’d starred in so many of my fantasies, from pirate treasure to alien artifacts and more. Touching one of the polished shells, I found it oddly warmer than the room temperature, though that could have been from the temperature drop now that it was steadily cooling off with the setting of the sun, the dying rays shining through the west window.

Mom had always told me not to touch it, that it was special to her, but it would pass to me when she died. And at the reading of her will, the lawyer had given me a key with a shell-shaped bow made of a metal I’d never seen before.

The blueish-green metal gleamed in the overhead fluorescent light as I inserted it into the hidden notch under the lid. It turned three times to the right, but nothing happened. Then I remembered the note that accompanied the key and removed it from my pocket. After studying the random letters and numbers, I tried again. All the way in, three turns to the right. Pull it out until it catches slightly. Two turns to the left. All the way in, which it went in farther than the first time, and four to the right. Farther in, two to the left. Halfway out where it catches, and five to the left. My fingers ached before the latch finally disengaged with a soft snick.

It took a bit of strength to lift the lid, but when I did, my breath froze in my chest before my lungs spasmed into a gasp.

“Holy shit…”

Only one major item sat inside.

The light bounced off in blue-toned rainbows from a scale of some sort. Gold ringed the edges, presumably both for decoration and to keep from injury, as it looked sharp. The scale was attached to a shell necklace by three blue-green-toned metal rings, the same type of alien metal as the key, and I couldn’t help myself.

I had to touch it. I had to wear it. I had to study it in detail because no matter which way I turned the scale, it never seemed to be the same shade of blue twice, going from deep-water blue to the sea green of the Bahamas and the twilight blue of a lagoon in the afternoon sun and into deep, velvety violets.

Sucking in a breath, I held it in both hands—it was bigger than my head—and rubbed my thumbs over the surface. The wavy texture was almost glass-like and warm to the touch, as if it had been out in the sun in the height of summer, but it was gentle and soothing at the same time.

I went to put it on but jerked my hands away when my front door shook in its frame from a forceful knock that strangely sounded like a cop banging on the upper corner above the doorknob to make it louder than necessary. But it had a more aggressive edge that made my stomach knot up.

“Fuuuuck!”

I carefully laid the necklace back in the box and locked it up tight before hiding the key and jogging down the stairs. Whoever abused my door hadn’t stopped yet, and I wondered if they had metal knuckles or fought in pit fights every night so they could keep it up that long.

Exasperated, I jerked the door open and gave the men my best unimpressed stare. Two men stood on my front porch, both in expensive suits and both wearing unctuous smiles. I suddenly regretted opening my door. “Can I help you, gentlemen?”

“I hope so,” the man in the brown suit said graciously. “Are you Emrys Fairweather?”

I almost denied it but nodded against my better judgment. “I am. What can I help you with?”

“I’d like to buy your home,” he said with spread palms. “I know your mom hasn’t been gone long, but we wanted to ensure you got a fair price for your estate.”

I bit back a groan and started closing the door. “Not interested.”

“Not even for one-point-two million?” he said as if that were some outrageous number.

“Not even then,” I said flatly. “This place is worth thirty million if you include the immediate land, and that’s not including the furnishings or the permits, and especially not the cove.”

Rage flashed across his partner’s face before he could school it back into bland indifference. “Surely we can reach a deal.”

“Not interested,” I said before slamming the door.

It didn’t slam. The greasy bastard had stuck his foot in the door to keep me from closing it. I reached behind the door, leaned my full body weight against it, and grabbed the cement-filled metal baseball bat. “I’ll give you one chance to remove your foot, or I’ll remove it for you. Please leave.”

I let the door ease back just enough for him to retrieve his foot, but he tried to shove his way in.

Nope.

I used the baseball bat to crack his toes. Cursing, the man jerked his foot back, and I hurriedly shut and locked the door before dialing 9-1-1, feeling a sense of déjà vu.

Three hours later, I finally got rid of the police and tried to ignore the patrol they set around my house for my peace of mind. I ensured every door and window was locked before hoofing it back up to the attic.

Being away from the shell brought on an anxiety I didn’t understand. It was bad enough that my hands shook as I unlocked the chest and withdrew the necklace. And without thought, I fastened it around my neck and gasped at the shock of static before it settled into a warm, inaudible hum that I couldn’t tell if it were in my head or real.

But at this time of night, I tucked it in my shirt, the shell chain looking like any surfer’s puka shell choker with stacks of round, white shell beads sectioned off by two black shell beads. It would pass inspection anywhere so long as I wore a t-shirt.

The rest of the box held little more than padding and a few random shells and beach rocks—things my mother had found and loved, I imagined.

Closing the lid with a sigh, I locked it back up and stood. Hopefully, my little scale talisman would chase away my nightmares tonight.

It couldn’t hurt.

Desolace!

“Fuck.” I groaned at the harried sound of my name echoing telepathically through my mind but moved the beautiful omega off my dick so I could answer my king’s summons. I should probably have asked the omega his name before sticking my tongue in his ass to lap up all of the delicious slick that had started running the moment he laid eyes on me. Names were important. He probably had a nice one. But with the perils of my job, I knew it was best to stay strangers.

“My apologies, sweet one, for leaving you unsatisfied. My king beckons. You may clean up in the lavatory through that door,” I said, nodding toward the door in question as I pulled on my pants. I jogged out of my lavish suite once he disappeared with a rather distinct pout that I wished I could kiss away, but life had other ideas. As a lord and the king’s adviser, I was free to do as I wished. Still, as a King’s Assassin, I had to answer the summons, which meant ditching the pretty, slick-soaked omega so I could assume my assassin’s garb and become, once again, a faceless guardian for King Threysal.

I didn’t bother with any other clothing than the leggings off the bedroom floor for now. The Highdark King wouldn’t care. He had seen me with less. As always, promptness was more important than modesty, and I could don my assassin’s garb once the meeting was over.

I bowed low once I reached his chambers, my right hand pressed to my left shoulder as I bent at the waist. He flicked his fingers for me to rise, and I approached him where he did his best to wear a track into the pristine gray and green marble floor of his private sitting room. And King Threysal never worried so.

“My king,” I murmured, just loud enough for him to hear me. “What service may I provide?”

He came to a stop on a plush, white rug and gave me a fond smile. “My beautiful assassin.” He sighed. “I need you to go hunting.”

I raised a brow at him but said nothing.

He blew out another sigh and went back to pacing. “My nephew, Amrisus, has disappeared on his way to the Circle of Magi’s tower.”

Amrisus was a stunning young elf, a little over four thousand years of age, with fiery red hair, a kind demeanor, and the most vibrant green eyes I had ever seen. He made my blood run hot every time we were near each other, and I had to admit to myself that I had had many fantasies of him while pleasuring myself over the last millennium. I could almost smell his herbal soap, made specifically for him with a mixture of sandalwood and decadent spices.

With this recollection, I nodded. “Where do you think he is?”

Threysal shook his head. The strong alpha before me trembled with the need to hunt and rescue the missing omega. My own alpha instincts screamed at me, as well. But I handled it better, as I remained still while Threysal all-but tore at his long, wavy brown hair.

“I have no idea,” he said as he turned to head back toward his ironwood and creamy leather sofa. “He was so excited to start his apprenticeship with the Circle of Magi. I can’t imagine him throwing this opportunity away, especially since he worked so hard for it and won the spot over hundreds of other applicants. He disappeared somewhere between here and the Circle of Magi tower. Anything else is unknown.”

“And what do you think, my king?”

He smirked at me but went back to pacing. “Otherwise? I can only imagine he had it in his head to visit his lifelong idol, Casersis, before attending his apprenticeship and got hurt. Anything else, and he would have contacted us.”

“Pennsylvania, then.” I internally groaned. When his son had exiled him from the Summerlands and taken the crown, the former Sun King, Casersis Merintas, had taken his solitude in what is now Pennsylvania in the human world, one of the three worlds that shared this planet—the human world of Earth, the elven world of Adradis where I resided, and Morka, the world of the barbaric race of bashkai.

Casersis had turned his land on Earth into a sprawling metropolis named Shadetree, Pennsylvania, which resided close to the area’s farmlands and was surrounded by nature. I was not the only one who had been keeping a watch on him during his five-thousand-year exile while the current Sun King, Casersis’s son Kennan Merintas, ruled with his non-soulbonded mate, Sisavel Merintas.

“The look on your face tells me you dislike the location,” Threysal said softly, breaking me from my reverie. “Why?”

I never let my feelings show on my face unless it was in private with my king. As I knew his every thought, he knew mine.

Shaking my head, I wiped a hand down my face. “Millions of humans, my king. Millions. In a very tiny area. And do you know what they would do if they learned he has magic?”

Threysal shuddered as a full-body cringe made his body seize, then resumed his pacing. “I do. I would prefer it if he is spared that fate if he managed to find his way there.”

“As would I,” I said softly. Amrisus was a smart young omega. I had faith he could handle himself anywhere, but I wasn’t about to say as much to Threysal. I wouldn’t give him false hope.

He came near and wrinkled his nose. “Good gods, were you in the middle of an orgy? You smell like sex and slick.”

I lifted a shoulder in a shrug. It surprised me he hadn’t heard the omega’s squeals and moans with as loud and shrill as he was. “Trust that I shall bathe and dress before I leave.”

“Head out as soon as possible,” Threysal ordered. “The sooner he is returned, the sooner my brother will stop going mad with worry and grief. His husband is so sure Amrisus is already a specimen to dissect for some human military organization. Eris, though, thinks he is still in Kal’brath.”

I grunted my assent. If he did end up on Earth and the young elf wasn’t careful, I would have to get creative in finding him. I would have to get even more creative in getting him out alive and intact because the human military had so many secret bases and hiding places. They made the hoarding tendencies of our world’s squirrel population pale in comparison. Though, that was only if he had gone to the human world. He could still be lost in ours.

“I will need to speak to Amrisus’s parents, of course.”

Threysal gave me a curt nod. I admired his restraint, sending me instead of giving in to his instincts and going himself.

“Please do not tarry long, old friend,” he said in a gentler tone. “I will miss you.”

It didn’t take me long to bathe and dress. I had my assassin’s garb on so tight that unless I bespelled my eyes, nothing of me could be seen. It consisted of a bumpy green leather from a bipedal creature called a talza whose skin was impenetrable from anything, including magic, other than an old god’s fang or scale. The tailcoat, skin-tight trousers, hood, knee-high boots, gloves, and bracers were all made of this leather, and as far as I knew, I was the only one in existence in possession of such a treasure.

It helped keep my identity secret by making it almost impossible to knock my hood off, and if they succeeded, I wore a black skull cap beneath, ensuring my face would never be revealed. So few knew me as the King’s Assassin when I wandered around without my assassin’s garb. They never put two and two together, so I had remained anonymous for the most part for millennia beyond remembrance. Not even the other realms’ kings knew my identity, though a few might suspect.

And as I let myself into the home of Amrisus’s father and pater, neither one suspected anything other than my assumed identity.

“Desolace,” the alpha father hissed. I smirked to myself at his animosity. Lord Tovarius Alovarin, the soulbonded mate to the king’s brother, Lord Erisius Alovarin, had always disliked my alter ego, though I couldn’t fathom why. Erisius, however, stood and rushed me, reaching out for my hands. I took a single step back and held my hands before me. “My entire body is a weapon, your lordship. Please forgive me.” Even though I did not have the poison lacing my ensemble for this trip, I could never be too careful. It was best to sow the seeds now, rather than have an accident later.

Erisius sobbed out a breath and nodded, pressing his hands to his stomach as if he were about to be ill. I removed my right glove and rested my hand against his cheek, an alpha comforting an omega. It surprised me that Tovarius allowed it, but the fact that he didn’t interfere spoke of trust, even if he held animosity.

“I will find him, sweet one,” I promised. “I just need to speak with you both about his disappearance.” I brushed my thumb under Erisius’s eye to catch a falling tear and smeared it away. “But first, may I⁠—”

“Yes! Whatever you want, yes,” Erisius said emphatically.

“Now, Eris…”

“No,” the omega growled at his mate. “My brother’s King’s Assassin will have free reign to do what he must to bring our son home.”

I rewarded him with a gentle squeeze at the nape of his neck, feeling the tight-strung muscles lose some of their tension when I hit the pressure points just right. He sagged with relief and closed his eyes. “Whatever you need to do.”

With a nod, I turned toward the hall where I knew the bedchamber to be. “You may follow me while I perform my search. I will hide nothing from you.”

“Truly?” Erisius asked, sounding as if his world had just been upended.

I turned to look at him over my shoulder, and with a sigh, I turned back around. He couldn’t see into my hood, and it was better that way. It meant I didn’t have to hide my facial expressions. “No, I will not. You both have suffered enough already. I will not compound your grief with useless and pointless posturing and politics.”

“At least your brother sent someone with sense,” Tovarius grumbled to his husband.

I stopped and turned around again, pushing power into my eyes to make them glow with a fierce blue light, making Tovarius gasp and step back. “Watch your step, Lord Alovarin. That is shaky ground to tread.”

He cringed back and held his hands up. “My apologies. I am just⁠—”

“Out of sorts,” I finished for him with a nod. I released the spell on my eyes. “Understandable. Just remember, however, that I do not work for you, and your brother-in-law is giving up his safety to ensure your son has a fighting chance of coming back to you alive and well. As we speak, King Threysal paces his chambers, an impotent alpha in dire need to save a wayward omega he loves with no outlet but to pace, tear at his hair, and let his mate soothe him for brief spans before the cycle restarts.”

“I had no idea,” Erisius said in a choked whisper.

“He would bleed for that boy,” I said gently. “As would I.”

Erisius sucked in a staggered breath and nodded. “We thank you both.”

Now that the omega was pacified, I turned around and let my nose unerringly take me to Amrisus’s quarters. There were only two omegas in the house, and this chamber was the only one that didn’t smell like the two elves behind me.

When I entered the space, I stood still, breathed in Amrisus’s gentle scent, and took stock of his private space. He hadn’t changed from his juvenile rooms to a suite when he hit adulthood at the age of one thousand as he would have if his family had stayed in the royal palace as Threysal had wanted. That made things easier.

At the left stood his enormous four-poster bed with beautiful blue and red brocade drapes tied back against the posts, the heavy panels detailed with intricate golden embroidery. Similar patterns scrolled across the red and blue bedding. To the right stood his cherry wood bureau and the door to his walk-in closet. At the far end, a painted mural took place where a window would be if the Highdark weren’t situated deep inside mountain caverns. The colorful mural depicted a herd of horses grazing on rolling fields of grass in the Summerlands with the Sun King’s palace in the distance.

I took my time, cataloging everything before moving to the bureau. I pulled drawers out and frowned. None of Amrisus’s clothes were missing, and it tugged at me until I checked the walk-in wardrobe. None of his robes were missing, either, as the place was packed with clothing, most in various embroidery styles in the colors of ruby, sapphire, and gold. It seemed he had a specific taste.

The only things that seemed to be missing were his coat and a pair of boots.

“Did he say anything before you noticed he had gone missing?”

Erisius sighed. “Not to my knowledge. Not about this. He’d kissed my forehead, said he loved me, and he would message me when he made it to the Circle of Magi’s tower.”

“King Threysal said he might have disappeared to the human world,” I said. My confusion remained hidden from them behind my mask and deep hood. “He believes your son may have gone to find the exiled Sun King.”

“I have no idea,” Erisius said. “Casersis is his idol, but he wouldn’t have gone without telling someone.”

He truly believed that, so I tried again. “I take it you know nothing more.”

Erisius pouted and looked up at me, so earnest that it broke my heart. “No. Amrisus’s message never arrived, and when I contacted the Circle of Magi, they said he had yet to appear. He was so excited about starting his apprenticeship with the Circle that he talked about nothing else for whole spans.”

I frowned and closed the wardrobe door. “Then why would he suddenly head out without any clothing?”

“He has another entire wardrobe in an abyss bag,” Tovarius said. “We all do.”

Abyss bags, of course, were distinctive brocade on one side, no two ever the same, and a lightless black pit on the other. Each contained the entrance to a pocket dimension, enabling the carrier to cart around an unlimited number and weight of any type of item without anything being destroyed or contaminated. The abyss bag itself was never heavier than the brocade it was bound to.

“Fair enough,” I said. It wasn’t exactly an uncommon practice, but I still had to ask. With our homes built into the walls of mountainous caverns, those living in the Highdark had to be prepared to leave at a moment’s notice in case a cave-in destroyed our homes.

Over the next short while, I carefully went through Amrisus’s entire room, making sure I put things back where I had found them. When I finished my assessment, nothing else seemed out of place.

I turned to the omega’s waiting parents and placed my hand on Erisius’s cheek, brushing my thumb along his cheekbone. “I will find him. You have my word.”

Erisius’s lower lip wobbled, but he nodded. “Can we assist you in any way?”

“No,” I said. “You both have done enough. I will notify you of my progress when I have found him.”

“Thank you.”

Then Erisius stepped closer and made a face as if pained to speak whatever was on his mind, but he persevered and peered into my hood. “Amrisus is due to go into heat very soon. The Circle of Magi were going to provide a list of alphas within the tower who would be willing to help him through his heats during his stay, but now…”

“I will ensure his safety and comfort if I find him,” I promised. “You have my word. He will not suffer.”

Relaxing, Erisius nodded and gave me a tremulous smile. “Thank you.”

The moment I made it out of the Alovarin estate, I went back to my room, glad the nameless omega had gone, and took out my scrying bowl. After filling it with water, I scried after Amrisus.

The images swirled, but no matter what I did, when Amrisus made it past the cross-country portals out of the Twilight realm and into the Summerlands where both the Circle of Magi tower and the Summerlands Palace were located, his trail disappeared. I tried scrying into the human world even though I knew it to be impossible for my skills, but it still aggravated me that I saw nothing but shadows.

It looked like I would have to do this the hard way.

I took my time at the stables. After a conversation explaining the circumstances of the Highdark king’s missing nephew, the horse handler helped by letting me know that, yes, Amrisus had taken his soul-mount, Lesidir, and headed off a few days before. As he was able to speak to all horses, the handler asked if any had seen Amrisus acting strange. None had. Still, I had to follow every lead he could.

Saddling one of my own two soul-mount horses, a beautiful chestnut stallion named Corsaval, I murmured, “You ready for an adventure?”

Corsaval snorted. It is about time. I was growing bored. You have not taken me anywhere in ages, it seems. Nor have you taken Chirasin. She grows restless, as well.

“I am sorry, beloved.” I sighed and stroked my soul-mount’s sleek neck. Then in our telepathy, I said, I will endeavor to do better for the both of you.

I will hold you to that, Corsaval said fondly into my mind.

“I know you will.”

Where are we headed?

I switched back to mental speak as I mounted up. We will follow his trail until we find him.

You are always so optimistic, Corsaval mused. I will be optimistic with you.

Chuckling, I let Corsaval lead us out of the stables and into the cavern, making sure not to trample anyone who got in our way. The place glowed with a rainbow of gems, each house boasting a different color from rubies to the darkest, purest sapphires, each family in that house having a different hue of the base color. The gemstones glinted and shimmered against walls and balconies painted white, with some houses having painted murals or flowers along their balconies. The enormous estates stood out against the cavern’s granite walls, glowing in the mage lights brightening the main thoroughfare and side streets.

Once we hit the part of the thoroughfare heading out of the city where few people wandered the street, Corsaval switched from a trot to a ground-eating gallop.

It took half a day to reach the first distance-travel portal where my locator wisp—a ball of blue magic used to find those lost or running from the law—stopped and hovered. The glowing purple magic of the portal swirled within a circular, obsidian-encrusted pewter-colored frame. These portals made traveling from one side of the continent to the other faster, enabling me to travel hundreds of leagues within hours instead of days.

On the other side of the portal, I summoned another locator wisp, and Corsaval took off after it. When it stopped, I looked around. Nothing made sense. We were in the middle of nowhere within the Summerlands.

I dismounted and checked around the grass. It had been trampled, but it had been days ago, judging by the way the long grass had sprung back up to wave gently in the breeze.

I can’t follow the trail from here, Corsaval said. He neighed sadly. I can’t even smell Lesidir on the grass.

Nor can I scent Amrisus, I said with a sigh. Something feels off, though. Let us keep going. This way does lead toward the Circle of Magi’s tower.

It also leads to the Summerlands palace, Corsaval reminded.

“Let us head for the next portal leading to the palace,” I said. “Perhaps he stopped there. It is, at least, not far off from being halfway between the portal and the tower.”

Once I settled back into my saddle, I let Corsaval take over. We reached the Summerlands palace just as nightfall descended upon the land. I handed my soul-mount over to the handler at the stables before heading into the palace to pay the current Sun King a visit.

When I knocked on King Kennan’s chamber door, the Sun King called for me to enter, his voice muffled by the carved wood. I entered, and Ruin, Kennan’s King’s Assassin, crowded me until he realized who visited, and Kennan called him off.

“My apologies, your majesty,” I said softly as I neared Kennan’s side where he sat on a sky blue settee. “King Threysal’s nephew is missing, and I came to see if you might have seen him.”

Kennan’s brows furrowed. “Amrisus?” When I nodded, Kennan let out a long sigh. “No. I have not seen him. Have you, Ruin?”

“No, my king.”

I bit back a groan. “May I trouble you for a meal before I leave? I have traveled since just before the midday meal, and I need to keep searching.”

“You will spend the night,” Kennan said gently, but still with an air of authority. “Your meals will be provided. The veils will close in two days, so be swift tomorrow.”

The veils, of course, were natural portals between worlds, allowing passage every month. Elves could create veils, as well, but they were taxing and depleted the souls—the source of an elf’s magic—of the portal mage quickly.

“Of course. Thank you, your majesty.” I bowed and followed Ruin out as he showed me to my room.

I did not wish to sleep, but I needed a fresh start in the morning.

I could almost feel it. Amrisus needed me.

And I would find him.

Arthit Konkaeo

November 1860

Candlelight flickered beside the bed, casting us in shadows. My beautiful husband stripped, giving me a show. I took him in, from the top of his soft brown hair, down his face that always had a joyful smile and warm brown eyes twinkling with mischief. He turned that grin on me and shimmied.

Everything about him was perfection, from his slim, toned body to the honeyed color of his skin that steadily lost its tan now that winter was nearly upon us, making the days shorter. The way the candlelight played off his skin made him appear to be a golden fairy, his muscles shifting under that smooth skin as he stalked toward the bed like a jungle cat scenting prey.

I loved being his prey. Especially when he got that look in his eyes. The one that promised delicious, filthy things. Oh, yes. We were about to have good fun.

“Do you know what today is?”

I played dumb, drawing him down to the bed when he came near enough. “Loy Krathong? I mean, we did just return from the festival. You still smell of the incense because you didn’t wash your hair when we bathed.”

Grinning, I kissed the tip of his nose as he slid under the covers next to me. “Are you growing forgetful in your old age, I wonder? You must be.”

Kit pursed his lips, but his eyes still smiled, telling me everything I needed to know. My husband had an agenda.

“You know what I mean.”

“I fear I don’t.” I gave him my best innocent look, which he rolled his eyes at. “Is it a special day?” I teased. “Like the anniversary of the day we met, perhaps?”

His grin lit up the room, chasing the shadows into the abyss of the night and making my dick twitch. He was evermore lovely when he smiled like that, the joy taking over his entire face, making him appear boyish and carefree. “I knew you wouldn’t forget.”

“Never,” I murmured against his lips.

Then I had my arms full of amorous lover as he tackled me. I flipped him easily, putting him under me. His laugh echoed in the room before he tumbled me back over, pinning my wrists against the bed and leaning in, touching noses with me.

“You are a naughty husband,” he said, his tone as smoky as the sweet incense still clinging to him, tickling my nose. “You shouldn’t tease me. Not with the plans I have for you.”

I groaned as Kit licked my nipple. I knew exactly where this was headed, and I wasn’t about to deter him. If my husband wanted to spoil me, I had no qualms with this plan. His delighted chuckle told me he knew my mind as well as I did, and he nipped his way down my body like he’d done hundreds of times since we’d first made love twelve years ago. We’d only been married for seven, but it felt both like we’d been together and in love forever and like it was still new, like we were just now consummating our marriage. I would never get enough of him or how he laid his hands on me as if I were all he needed to live and be happy.

That sentiment went both ways. Kit was my home and my heart. I truly thanked the gods and everything in this world, the next, and the one before that this hyper, adorable man had found me. I thanked them thrice for making my husband persistent, as it took him ages to convince me his love was true.

And now he looked at me as if I’d both hung the moon tonight at Loy Krathong, the Lantern Festival where I met him thirteen years ago today.

“Someone is in a sentimental mood,” Kit murmured against my stomach.

I squirmed and grinned down at him, returning to the present, and threaded my fingers through his soft, shiny hair. “I wonder who?”

His rolling chuckle got my dick harder than stone, and I rolled my hips in a not-so-subtle demand for more attention. “And you are just as bad as me with your unsubtle ways of interrogation.”

Kit looked up at me with a wink and moved lower. He pressed a kiss just above the thatch of dark hair surrounding my sex and looked up at me through his lashes. That look always tried to kill me. I might combust.

“You like it when I’m unsubtle.”

“I do,” I mused. “I must, because I—”

“The Mahia!” Ezra shouted into the night. “They are here! To arms!”

The air split around us, shaking the entire building. A gargoyle’s craggy bass voice crying out in agony made my blood run cold. The sound of shattering stone got us both moving. Kit bounded out of bed with me a mere second behind him; our ardor immediately banked as we threw on clothes as fast as we could, with me nearly falling on my face in the process.

We’d battled the Mahia Clan for years with no end in sight. They were determined to overrun and destroy the library our magic master had created. Kit and I had been part of the defense for it ever since we’d joined on as apprentices. Tonight was not the first time we ran to defend the library.

We sprinted into the hallway as the others raced toward the front of the library. Master Declan traded his usual smile for hard eyes, his mouth set into a tight, grim line as he matched our speed. He trailed closely behind the group, tucking his grimoire into his breast pocket, and spoke rapidly in lightly accented Thai, “Hurry. The gargoyles are calling for help.”

He’d created animated stone gargoyles as the first protective barrier around the library’s building. They were funny, silly creatures until provoked. I personally never wanted to fight one as they knew no mercy. If they were calling in for help, this battle was off to a devastating start.

Kit and I nodded and bolted, though it felt like my soul momentarily left my body as another gargoyle cried in agony before shattering, louder than any crack of lightning I’d ever heard strike a boulder during an elemental mage’s training.

We gathered in the main room of Master Declan’s sentient library, Kassandra, where the others stood around, tense as bowstrings, their grimoires already on their persons and intricate spells flying even as we all looked to Master Declan for orders. We all wore haphazard clothes except Divya, who looked like she hadn’t slept yet. And with the recent attacks, she most likely hadn’t. It was why we slept in the library rather than our homes tonight.

Declan looked around him, his face contorted with worry for us and his beloved library, who might as well be his child as he created her. Kassandra shivered, her floors vibrating with it and the shelves creaking as books rearranged themselves in her anxiety. It hurt my heart to feel her fear vibrate up through my feet. I patted one of her bookcases before joining Declan at his side, resting a hand on his shoulder.

He reached up and squeezed my hand in thanks for the support before barking orders. “Arthit, guard the door. Let nothing and no one past you. Ezra, Roman, you two guard the rear. Divya, keep track of and double the building’s wards. Kit, protect the books. Don’t let them hurt Kassandra.”

Kit pulled me to him in a fierce kiss. His lips shivered against mine, betraying him as I’m sure mine betrayed me. I returned his kiss and clutched his shirt, holding him to me for that one precious second. We both needed the reassurance as we knew we were sorely outnumbered in this fight. Prepared, yes, but it might not be enough.

With great reluctance, I pulled back from Kit, and we pressed our foreheads together in a brief prayer. First, to Phra Angkarn, the Thai god of war, for our victory. Then, I begged the Thai god of love, Phra Trimurti, to protect my husband. When our prayers finished, Kit gave me a feral grin. “Battle well. And if I have to rescue you, understand I’ll never let you live it down.”

It was so like him to joke with me, to ease some tension of the moment, and I forced a smile in return. “You assume I won’t have to go rescue you.”

“Ha! Not happening.”

With another kiss, I stepped away and ran to the door to reinforce the wards.

No one said a word; we just bent to our task and raced to our stations. Most of our people were already outside, battling in the courtyard by the sounds coming from that direction. When I reached the door, I dared sneak a look just in time to block an attack against Somchai. If I could keep him alive, we might have a chance of winning this. But as I scanned the scene before me, my heart sank. Bodies littered the street and garden on our side of the gates. Rubble from dead gargoyles littered the ground. A head lay near the door, its mouth forever open in a silent scream, eyes open and staring at me accusingly as if I had personally murdered him.

I shuddered and turned my attention back to the fore.

The battle raged on as one after the other of our clan fell, no matter how they or I tried to shield them. Something, someone, was blowing right through our shield spells, and I failed again and again. Guilt tugged at me. I ruthlessly shoved it down as I cast over and over, my magic depleting as time slipped by without notice, my attention focused so hard on the battle that I panted each breath, and sweat ran down my face, stuck my clothes to my skin, and made my hands clammy.

I put as much power behind the door’s wards as possible without sacrificing my safety. We could not fall. I could not fail. If I fell and Kit died…

Shuddering, I shoved that thought down and started casting strike spells as fast as possible.

My heart thundered so hard that the only things I could hear for long moments were my blood pounding through my ears, my shattered gasps for air, and the sharp bang followed by a roaring whoomph of another explosion. The haze of smoke and blood coated my throat, making me choke on my sudden shout as a strike spell blew my closest friend’s head from his shoulders. Somchai’s head rolled two feet before his body toppled, the attack so precise it had to have come from Griselda. Unfortunately, the Mahia clan’s tactician lived up to her name, meaning “Grey battle” in her native tongue. Griselda grinned at me with a wicked light in her eyes just before blowing the gate off its hinges, sending it flying into the building with such force I heard books tumble free of their shelves behind me.

The flood of the Mahia advanced like a tidal wave and slammed against the building’s wards. I blocked breaker spells as fast as they cast them. My breathing came in staccato pants as my mind blanked out, focusing solely on casting the next spell, on blocking the next attack.

Something cracked. The next moment, the ward exploded inward, knocking me flat and sending me skidding a foot from the impact.

“Breach!” I shouted behind me, even as I renewed my attack, tossing up another ward to give my clan—my family—the time to patch the defenses.

The world seemed to slow. Another deafening crack resounded before the ward shattered again. I looked back, craning my head to search for Kit. He ran for me, his mouth open, shouting something I couldn’t hear, his lips forming the word, “No!” right before a spell shot past me and hit him in the chest.

I’d failed.

Kit was dead because I had failed.

I tried to cast again, only to realize I had no magic left.

Horror filled into every fiber of my being as I looked up into Griselda’s stark gray eyes. Her sneer was the last thing I saw before her spell sent me into oblivion.

* * *

Darkness enveloped me. Nothing existed except the chains of guilt weighing me down, dragging me into depths unknown. And then I heard Declan’s voice as he spouted off a spell. A tether jerked me to a stop, halting my progress just long enough for him to shout, “Someone get his grimoire. He’ll need it in the next life!”

Then, I was lost.

All Declan wanted was to read his newly acquired fifteenth-century grimoire in peace. Preferably while soaking in a fizzy, bubbly, fragrant bath. Alas, his boisterous family was doing their best to keep him from his hot, soapy slice of heaven.

Not to mention he had just walked into a book. Not a bookshelf. Oh, no. Kassandra—his beloved child, his sentient library—had decided to play a prank, interrupting his walk by hovering a book that hit him smack in the face and bruised his poor, pretty nose!

Why, yes, he was walking while reading, but that was no excuse! He shouldn’t need to worry about being accosted in his own home by his sentient library!

Even now, he could hear her bookshelves rumbling as Kassandra giggled, the cruel lass. It was fortunate she loved him, or he might have perished centuries ago from her so-called revenge pranks.

Right as he entered his room, he received a text from Gunnar, one of his apprentices. He placed his grimoire on the dresser as he checked the message.

Gun: I froze your credit card before Kass brains you with a ten-pound book-shaped brick.

Declan: WHAT?! Why would you do this to your favorite Master?

Gun: lol because Kass would put you in a coma. And Kit and the guys would die laughing.

Declan: Why is everyone so cruel to me?

Ezra: Love is pain.

Ugh. How many times must he apply for a new credit card? At least Gunnar hadn’t tanked his credit score and credit history like Kit had when he’d been truly fucked off about his book-buying habits.

Gun: You know, if you find a bigger warehouse…

Kit: DO NOT GIVE HIM IDEAS!

Gun: Sorry, boo. The space either needs to get bigger, or we need to induce a coma so he can’t keep slipping around our barriers and finding booksellers who deliver. It’s your fault, Kit, for teaching him how to use a computer.

Kit: It was, wasn’t it? My bad.

Declan: You are both terrible people and should be ashamed of yourselves. What’s that newish expression? ‘You did a bad, and you should feel bad.’ Yes, that’s it.

Kit: Delaine has been teaching you current lingo, I see.

Gun: She’s great at being a bad influence.

Declan: Why is no one giving this as much gravitas as it warrants? I can’t just not buy books!

Kit: You really can.

Gun: Absolutely.

Ivy: They’re not wrong. You *can* just not buy books.

Finn: If another book avalanche nearly kills me because you’re trying to stuff a new one where Kassandra doesn’t want it, I may punch you into that coma. No meds needed.

Declan: Why must you all wound me so?

Delaine: Because we love you and would like Kassandra not to ask us to bury you under the library so she can sit on you for eternity.

Declan: She would never!

Kit is typing…

Delaine is typing…

Finn is typing…

Roman is typing…

Ivy is typing…

Ezra is typing…

Kit: We’ll let you keep thinking that.

Everyone stopped typing.

Declan: I hate all of you.

Delaine: You know you love us.

Declan: Regrettably.

Kit: *Snicker*

Declan: I’m not feeling the love. Leave me be while I take a bubble bath to soak away the stench of betrayal.

Roman: Awww. Don’t be like that…

Declan: I be like that, Roman. I be like that until my bath is over.

Declan smirked as he heard Roman’s laughter from down the hall. A warm, pleasant sound, even if it was at Declan’s expense. Sighing, Declan picked up the grimoire and continued toward his bathroom, muttering as he worked himself up into a proper tizzy.

“I mean, the utter nerve of Gunnar!” Declan cried, his voice echoing in the spacious, tiled bathroom. He then realized that in his despair, he’d forgotten a few pre-bath steps.

He resumed muttering as he turned and plodded back toward his room. He connected his phone to the charger on his nightstand before disrobing and carrying his new, pretty grimoire into the bathroom. Getting things ready for his bath, he pulled out his new bath bomb and set it on the counter next to his towel. 

“How dare he keep me from my Amazon account?” Declan puffed up his chest, indignation rising with every item he set on the counter—wide-toothed comb, sanitized loofah, sangria from the decanter he had set with a chilling spell when Ivy had postponed his bath nearly an hour ago.

“How dare he deprive me of an entire empire worth billions of dollars selling millions of books I’ve never heard of, let alone read? There are more produced every day, and I am, what? Supposed to stay in my library and pretend they don’t exist?”

He set his new grimoire on the edge of the tub and disrobed, eager to indulge in a soak while reading.

Turning around, Declan carefully unwrapped the bath bomb, only to receive a face full of fragrant powder. He sneezed several times, accidentally dropping the bath bomb, but thank all the gods it actually landed in the bathtub. He did not want to clean up another mess this afternoon. Why, no, he had not shoved that shelf full of books to the floor. Kassandra had framed him!

He grumbled while eyeing the bathtub full of now murky green water. Why was there color but no fizz? No bubbles? What was the world coming to where a man couldn’t enjoy a bubble bath that smelled like sweet pea and sugar and had actual fizz and bubbles? 

His day could be summed up by disappointing froths that looked more like dirty seafoam.

Declan muttered to the empty air, “Now, I’m not normally the type to throw down over bubbles, but I have standards. In regard to bubble baths, I am judge, jury, and that bitch.” 

He eyed the tub warily before looking around the bathroom.

What could he add to his poor, neglected bath water to make it fizz and bubble?

He looked at the bath bomb’s label again and sneered—effervescent his ass.

With a put-upon sigh, he wandered back out of his bathroom and glanced about his room. Surely he had something tucked away in his bedroom or— 

Mother Hecate. Alka-Seltzer!

With glee, Declan rushed around the bed for his apothecary chest and pulled out two unopened boxes of Alka-Seltzer, leaving the opened one and another full box behind. 

What? A man gets heartburn after a night of Tex-Mex with his family. Kit always tried to kill him with extra spice, but it was so tasty.

What was he doing again?

He glanced down at the two boxes of Alka-Seltzer and grinned like a naughty schoolboy getting away with mischief. Fizzy bath time! This would surely be epic.

He kept the thought in his head as he unwrapped every tablet in those boxes and tossed the two fistfuls into the water, watching as the tablets erupted with the long-awaited fzzzzz. Satisfied, he heated the water again as it had significantly cooled, and then finally placed a foot into the water—

—only to bump into his beloved ancient grimoire that had been sitting on the edge, sending it into the bath water.

“Noooo!” He lunged after the book to scoop it up.

The moment he fully stepped into the tub, he didn’t even have a chance to mutter a curse when bursts of light and color shrouded his vision for half a heartbeat before slowly dissipating.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

Looking up from the bath water as he slowly straightened, Declan peered around…another bathroom.

Had he teleported himself to another bathroom? Or had he changed his bathroom? Or was something else at play here?

While he stood there trying to reason out how he’d managed to swap bathrooms, he turned in the water and inspected the tile.

It did not appear there was a camouflage spell on the walls or tub. Nor were there any on the bathroom fixtures. So while the bathroom was beautiful, it wasn’t his.

Or was it?

His feet and calves were tingly, and he looked down to see the murky green water still merrily fizzing away. He stared down at the little jets of water as the sensation tickled his skin.

Something also tickled his brain, an important detail he’d glossed over, and he gasped.

Oh. Oh dear.

He glanced down at the sodden book still in his hands and shrieked. “My tome! Noooo, my poor grimoire!”

He mentally went through his Rolodex of spells and found one that should dry the tome in moments, but it might react poorly with Declan standing calf-deep in water.

A risk he was willing to take!

As he performed the spell, the fizzing increased, the water almost burbling now as it grew even warmer. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, but despite the spell, the book in his hand remained damp.

How could he save his precious book? Perhaps there was a useful spell inside? 

Declan scanned the semi-dyed pages clinging to one another and blinked at the muddled words. Wait. This word seemed familiar. A spell…to de-coat…cats? Or a spell to shave cats? Or taxidermy?

Declan lifted the book and wrinkled his nose at the page before him.

Damnit. Or perhaps it was the spellword for travel? None of which were useful to him right now. He carefully turned the page with a whispered spellword. Oh, now this one was intriguing—a spell for eavesdropping from long distances. If he could just remember why that might come in handy…

The door opened, interrupting his thoughts, and a young, handsome man with taupe skin and a buzz cut quickly stepped through. His apple green eyes narrowed as he took in the scene. “What the fuck happ— Wait. Who are you?”

Declan blinked.

The man blinked back.

“Idon’t know, Lucas,” my sister said. Her raspy, weak voice broke my heart. Chemotherapy was whittling her away to nothing, and no matter how much money I threw at her treatment and hospital bills, she kept deteriorating.

My heart sank when I checked my balances. Every account, whether savings, checking, or credit, was all overdrawn. I crumpled my mail as I unlocked and opened my door before taking my phone from between my ear and shoulder. “I’ll find a way.”

“You keep saying that, but bro, you’ve done so much, more than I can ever repay. You need to take care of yourself.” She coughed, and after a few moments, she drew in a rattling breath.

I drew in a shaky one, too. “I love you, Sarah.”

“I love you too, big brother.” She kissed at me. “Be good. I’ll let you know if I hear anything from that fundraiser Lisa set up.”

“Okay.” When I hung up, I tossed my phone on the table and sorted through my mail. The junk went straight to the trash. The only things left were two utility bills and a letter from some attorney.

I opened that one first, and my heart stuttered in my chest. I scanned it, then read it slower. I was being taken to court by several of my creditors, including the bank that held my club’s mortgage.

I ran the underground gay sex club, Hunger, below a legit restaurant. While I made great profits from both, I had used every scrap of everything for Sarah’s treatments and hospital stays. Now, looking at that creamy paper with its official-looking header and footer, my entire body went cold and clammy.

I didn’t know I’d moved until my legs gave out, and I landed on my plush sofa. When I glanced around, I frowned. I could start pawning stuff. Sell the house and rent a small apartment.

The thought came to sell the restaurant and club, but the club was my only escape from the reality that I would most likely outlive my baby sister.

It wasn’t fair.

The letter fluttered to the floor. Groaning, I picked it up and tossed it on the coffee table. Fuck my entire life.

With a deep breath, I shoved to my feet, took a quick shower to wash the nervous sweat from my skin, and changed into club leathers. If I couldn’t have control of my finances, I’d find that control in a willing body at Hunger. I might as well enjoy it before I had to shut it down and sell it.

I blinked, and I was in the club, it seemed. The moment Brent, the bouncer, opened the doors, my shoulders lost most of their tension. Michael took my knee-length coat at the registry desk. Then I opened the oak door carved with a beautiful twink wearing a collar with a backlit amethyst in the collar’s center. Scents of sex and leather flooded my nostrils, spiced with expensive cologne, clean sweat, and flavored lube. It was heady, and I loved it. I let it sink into my pores and closed my eyes to settle.

“Fuck, you look tired.” I blinked down at the boy who had just attached himself to my arm. I say boy, but he was twenty-two. He was just baby-faced and small with curly blond hair and sleepy brown eyes. “Come on, Sir. I’ll fix you up.”

Did I want to fuck him? Curtis was a cutie, not collared, and didn’t have a dedicated Dom. He was available but didn’t stir my cock in the least. Lately, nothing did. But I craved the attention, so I let him drag me to one of the velvet couches, the ones not meant for fucking. He must have read the disinterest on my face as he went to the bar and returned with a bourbon.

If I drank, I wouldn’t be fucking at all. Those were the rules. If you had even a beer, you didn’t get your dick wet here.

Fuck it.

Accepting the drink, I let Curtis sit across my lap and play with my hair. He must have been lonely too, or he was between sessions with whoever was lucky enough to have him kneeling at their feet tonight.

He didn’t kneel for me. But he nurtured me when he thought I was stressed.

“So what has you looking like you’re about to keel over?” he asked against my ear. It made me shiver, and I snaked an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. His weight felt good for the most part, grounding me.

“I may have to sell the club,” I said, though I wasn’t sure he heard me because I could barely choke the words out.

He gripped my hair and tugged painfully. “WHAT?”

Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked our way. I waved them on, and only when they went about their business did I squint at him. “My sister is dying, Curt. I spent every penny I had and a lot I didn’t have to try and save her. I got the foreclosure notice today.”

“Fuck.” He breathed in deeply and shook his head before slinking off my lap and taking my hand. “Follow me.”

Cocky shit. But I followed Curtis to one of the back rooms and let him shut and lock the door. “What?”

“Have you tried praying?”

“Of course,” I scoffed. “I’ve been praying since Sarah was first diagnosed, whatever good that did us.”

He grinned, a feral thing. “Maybe time to try something else. You game?”

I didn’t like the look in his pretty brown eyes, but I was desperate. “Yeah.”

With a wink, he produced a thick piece of pink chalk and started scribbling on the hardwood floor. Good thing they were sealed. When he was done sketching out an almost perfect circle, complete with strange markings and a six-sided star, he stood and came over with what looked like a medieval dagger. “Hold out your hand.”

“How did you bring that into the club?” I demanded.

“Hold out your hand, Lucas.”

I obeyed on instinct. Curtis slashed at my palm and threw my hand toward the circle. Blood splattered across it, and the moment the dark red of my blood met pink chalk, crimson light blinded me.

And the room shook.