“ROWEN?” KRISTOFF said. “We’re here.” Rowen looked up. The mess hall loomed over him, chattering people heading inside for their evening meal. The breeze blew warm on his skin, but given his fears, he couldn’t really enjoy it.
“Eat up. I… we’ll skip the evening lesson for today. Get some extra rest. Tomorrow you have a break from lessons, so take the day to relax.”
Rowen nodded.
“And… don’t worry, Rowen. Please?” Kristoff’s blue eyes bore into his, willing him to relax. Rowen couldn’t. But he nodded anyway.
Kristoff would know. The villagers would tell him everything. How he had left his parents to die, stealing their water, all the lies they had believed that had led them to kill him. And he wouldn’t be able to defend himself. Not until he could write, and even then, what reason did Kristoff have to believe him?
Rowen knew he liked Kristoff more than he should. He was a lowly student, one who might fail, and Kristoff was a Storm Lord. Rowen couldn’t help but hope, but Kristoff would never have any feelings for him if he thought Rowen was a water stealer.
No one survived heat spells without water. He didn’t know why his parents had died and he had lived once the water had run out. But he had, long enough to take the pit seeds. Would it have made a difference if his parents had taken them? He didn’t know. It had been too late then.
Thinking of them, of his old village, brought back a sudden pain that was different than the burning healing of his skin over the past few weeks. It had been his home, no matter what.
No. He couldn’t think like that. He had a future here, and there he had been only a sacrifice. He had to focus on the good, on all he could learn and experience here. Everything was so much more beautiful than the dust and heat of his village.
“I will see you the day after tomorrow. Same time in the morning.” Kristoff smiled, but Rowen couldn’t smile back.
Rowen took his time selecting his meal, trying to put his fears out of his mind. The food here was amazing, so different from the bland tubers and roasted lizards and insects he had eaten as staples back home.
Here, there were green vegetables and thick-sliced meats with flavorful sauces among the dizzying array of things Rowen had never sampled before, and now that he was no longer in pain, he was beginning to enjoy them. Of course, he would have enjoyed the salted meat and sauce he chose more if the idea of Kristoff visiting his village wasn’t occupying all his thoughts.
He chose a table near the window, eating the luscious food and watching the sunset. Even the sky was more beautiful here, the puffy clouds and the setting sun shooting it with pinks and purples.
He wanted to forget his past. His family was gone. Lucas was gone. Why did Kristoff have to go back?
“Hey,” an accented voice said. Rowen nearly dropped his fork. “You look kind of stressed.”
Volkes set his tray down on the table, his chair scraping against the wooden floor. “Did something bad happen?” His eyes narrowed. “That last bandage is gone. Bad day at the doctor’s?”
Rowen just nodded. Technically that was true.
Volkes smirked. “Thought so. But you look better without them.” Rowen’s face heated, and he focused on his food. Volkes kept staring at him, a smirk on his face that Rowen didn’t know how to interpret. Volkes often ate with him these days, but it felt different now.
“You’re not in pain with all the bandages gone?” Volkes said suddenly. Rowen shook his head.
Volkes leaned back. “Good. Then I have a proposition for you.”
A proposition? Rowen raised both eyebrows.
“I see you’re interested. Good. Tomorrow is rest day. No classes, no work, or anything. And I don’t have any extra lessons with Katia, finally.” The last few rest days Rowen had slept, his burns healing and his mind full of things he was trying to learn. “So tonight, we’re going to finally celebrate you coming here. Are you up for it?”
Rowen wanted to ask what the celebration actually entailed. Celebrations at home had usually involved drinking and dancing by the adults, while the younger ones were expected to serve the drinks and food. They hadn’t earned the right to such things yet. By the time Rowen was old enough, there had been no reason for any parties. Not for him.
Rowen hadn’t celebrated anything in a long time.
“Well?” Volkes set down his fork with a clink.
Rowen nodded. He wanted to see what celebrations here were like.
“C’MON,” VOLKES said, the cool air making Rowen shiver as they stepped outside the mess. The sky had gone from pink to deep purple. “No Kristoff this evening?”
Rowen shook his head, his face heating slightly. He didn’t want to think about Kristoff, or Kristoff visiting his village, at all. Not when he was supposed to be celebrating.
“Hmm.” Volkes’s gaze sharpened, but he left it alone. “Fine, then. We’ll get an early start.” He broke into a wide grin, his teeth visible. “I’ll make it worth your while. C’mon.”
Rowen followed Volkes, tracing the now familiar path back to their shared house. Rowen wished he could ask about Volkes’s training, maybe get some information about what to expect from his own. Elise was talkative but didn’t usually bring up her magic, and Sharon was usually away. Rowen didn’t know where.
Volkes didn’t offer anything as they walked, and the first few stars began to appear in the sky. Rowen shivered again as another cool breeze blew, bringing with it the still strange scents of deep forest and the pungent edge of what Rowen knew must be the ocean. He wished he could see it again, as scary as it was. He hadn’t yet had the time or courage to get close. Maybe tomorrow he could explore the island itself some more.
“Enjoying yourself?” Volkes dug into his pocket for his key, pulling out a key ring. Rowen wondered what the others were for. “It’s been a while now. Used to it all yet?”
Rowen gave a sheepish smile and shook his head as they walked up to the front door. No lights shone from the windows of their shared house.
“It took me a while too when I first came here. I was twelve.” Rowen hadn’t expected that. “In the north, where I’m from, we didn’t have quite this much forest and greenery. Certainly not the varieties you’re seeing here.” He lit the torches inside, skipping every other in the main hall and not bothering with the sitting room. “It was mostly snow and cold. Heat spells were different—when the snow started melting, we knew the storm would come.”
Rowen raised his eyebrows, hoping Volkes would keep talking. He wanted to know what snow was.
Instead Volkes headed up the stairs, keeping the lamp lighter in his hand, clicking the two metal pieces together as though to catch Rowen’s attention. “C’mon, Rowen.” His blond hair gleamed in the dim light. “Come up to my room. I want to give you something to help you celebrate.” He grinned. “Ever had Darsean beer?”
Rowen paused on the first step. He was beginning to realize what kind of celebration Volkes might have in mind, especially since there was no one else in the house with them. Volkes waved the lamp lighter, a spark illuminating the hallway for a moment when he clicked it again. “C’mon, Rowen.”
Skin prickling with unease and no small amount of anticipation, Rowen headed up the stairs and into Volkes’s room, waiting in the doorway while Volkes lit one sconce in the corner. Volkes had a window, the untied curtains fluttering in the breeze. The covers on his bed were rumpled, and clothes and books lay strewn on the floor. Rowen carefully stepped inside. Volkes had more things on his floor than Rowen had ever owned in his life.
Something gleamed on a shelf, and Rowen walked toward it. It was a knife, keenly sharp, with the edge darkened and discolored.
“My hunting knife,” Volkes said, making Rowen jump. “I used it to kill a deer during my manhood ceremony when I was eleven.” Volkes pulled Rowen away from the shelf, guiding him with one arm. “Did you do what you have to do to be considered a man where you’re from, Rowen?”
Rowen didn’t know how to respond. Men and women didn’t prove anything in his village. They just survived.
“Hm. Let’s see, then.” Elise’s words from his first meeting with her came back to his mind as Volkes opened his dresser drawer and pulled out two glass bottles, holding them aloft. The light from the sconce shone through the clear liquid. “I got this from the Darsean traders. Best stuff there is.” No one had ever mentioned Darseans to him, and Rowen tilted his head.
“The traders.” Volkes shook his head with a snort. “How do you think our island gets supplies? The Darseans are seagoers. Live and die on ships. Apparently heat spells destroyed their home country way back. Undispellable ones.” He waved a hand. “They’re the only ones who can come to the Storm Lords’ island, and Storm Lords are respected in their culture. They ship food and supplies to the island from around the world.” Rowen nodded. Suddenly the plethora of foods in the mess hall made sense. “You can ask Sharon more about them if you’re curious. She’s Darsean.”
Rowen gave a weak smile. As soon as he could write, he would. He also wanted to know more about undispellable heat spells, but Volkes tossed him the glass bottle before he could.
“Well? You know where it comes from now. Try it.” Volkes grinned, popping his bottle open with his thumb.
Rowen followed suit, the strange wooden top falling off onto the floor. He almost moved to pick it up, but Volkes waved a hand. “Forget it. Just try it.”
His tongue curled at the taste, and he tilted his head back, letting the fiery liquid fall down his throat. It burned immediately, and he swallowed it fast, coughing a few times. The aftertaste was smooth and cloying, with a rootlike flavor Rowen could not identify.
Volkes whistled. “Wow. You didn’t gag or anything. I’m impressed.” Volkes tilted his head back and downed a portion of his own bottle, then stood up and set it down on the dresser. Rowen’s skin buzzed as Volkes came so close Rowen could smell the Darsean beer on his breath.
“So, Rowen. You want to celebrate or what?”
It occurred to him what Volkes meant, his words about men and men who liked men flashing through his mind.
A chill breeze blew through the window, but it wasn’t the cold that sent goose bumps down Rowen’s neck. He had never been with any man, with anyone at all. Was Volkes the one he wanted as his first?
Kristoff came to his mind then, and with him the anxieties of the coming few days. No. He didn’t want to think about the past, not now.
“Rowen? Do you want to celebrate with me or not?” Volkes asked again, his tone more demanding this time. He reached out and took Rowen’s wrist, his grip firm. “Yes or no?”
He looked so much like Lucas, and yet not. Rowen’s mouth went dry, his heart speeding up at the thought of finally doing something about the desires that had plagued him since he had first seen the blacksmith’s son, the desires that plagued him when he thought of Kristoff. His desires for men, the ones his father had told him to be careful about.
But that didn’t matter here. This was Rowen’s new life. It was normal. Kristoff liked men too, even if he wouldn’t like Rowen.
Rowen gave in to his feelings, his eyes leaving Volkes’s face and roving over his body. Warmth began to suffuse Rowen, curling up his spine and quickening his breath. Volkes smirked.
“Yes, right?” He reached up to Rowen’s chin. “Either you are the lightest weight in history, or just really easy.” Rowen wasn’t sure he liked his words, but they ceased to matter when Volkes’s lips met his.
He had heard girls in the village giggling about such things, and boys and young men describing how soft girls’ lips were. Volkes’s were soft, but Rowen felt the tiny pinpricks of stubble, and Volkes moved his lips in such a way that guided Rowen to copy it, molding his mouth against the other man’s. Volkes pulled with his kiss, as if nibbling on Rowen’s lips, and the sensation sent the curling heat into a burning flame.
“Do you want any more beer?” Volkes asked, breaking apart and leaving Rowen breathless. He shook his head, letting Volkes take the bottle from his hand and place it on the floor. Volkes smirked.
“Have you ever been with anyone?” When Rowen didn’t respond immediately, he clarified. “Have you ever fucked anyone?”
Rowen blushed hot.
“Well?” He moved forward, so fast that Rowen stepped back, bumping against the wall. Volkes put a hand on his chest, then trailed it lower, his lips turning up farther as Rowen squirmed. He was hard now, his erection uncomfortably confined, and he knew it was obvious.
“Answer me. Am I going to be your first?” He didn’t move, his hand motionless an inch above the bulge in Rowen’s pants.
For a moment, Kristoff flashed through Rowen’s mind, sending the burgeoning heat into a consuming flame. Rowen wished this was Kristoff.
No. Kristoff was going back to his village, and thinking about that wasn’t what he wanted right now. He pushed the thought away and nodded at Volkes.
Volkes broke into a victorious smile. “I’m going to make you feel really fucking good.”