CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
They left the town with the same heavy silence as they had entered it. Gareth was noticeably grim, carrying the weight of his stress on his shoulders so much that it hunched him in his saddle. "We're following their route," he finally said. "The Crusaders's, I mean." Though they both were aware it could have gone without saying.
Fydelis nodded, prodding his horse to catch up with Gareth's. "We are."
Gareth turned his face to Fydelis and offered him a bitter smile before he returned his gaze to the road. "You must be sick of hearing me whinge."
"It's not as though either of us has a choice." Fydelis wasn't certain if it was the right thing to say, but it was all he had left at this point. His human body was slowing down, tired out by the long journey and the depression weighing heavily on his companion. "We might catch up to them," he suggested.
"I almost hope we do," Gareth sighed and spurred his horse forward.
They slept outside again, though neither of them was having an easy time of sleeping. Because they needed the warmth, they had to shed their clothing and sleep close, but the tension through Gareth's muscles told Fydelis that the man would prefer to be anywhere but nestled against him. With a huff, he sat up, wrestling off the blankets. The cold air struck his skin like a slap. "Listen," he said, hugging himself. "There are one of two things bothering you. If it's guilt over not saving everybody— get over it. If it's discomfort… over me…"
Gareth sat up and wrapped the blankets over Fydelis's trembling shoulders. "It's…forgive me, Fydelis. My mind is a mess." He winced softly as he moved and Fydelis guessed that the wounds he'd inflicted upon himself were hurting.
"So is your body, idiot." It was something to distract his mind; Fydelis shrugged off the blanket and got up, shivering and hunched as he padded naked over to the pack that held their supplies. He found the tin of fatty salve and quickly returned to the bedroll, slipping in behind Gareth. The welts on his back were weeping, a few were crusted over with blood, pulling the scarred tissue around them too tightly. "Is this what they taught you to do? Those priests and Crusaders?" Fydelis pressed his fingers into the half-frozen paste and scooped out a portion, warming it between his hands.
"Aye." Gareth nodded. He sucked in a sharp breath as Fydelis began to spread the thick salve over his back.
"What for? Does spending seed make you not bloodthirsty enough?"
Gareth chuckled softly, "Something like that, I suppose. I never bothered to ask."
Fydelis had a hundred different arguments in his head as to why Gareth should give up his foolish piety, but he knew that Gareth had a response for each one. Or he'd just smile in that insufferable way, making Fydelis feel like an obstinate child. When it came down to it, only one of them was in love. The other loved the ideal of something that, even as an angel, Fydelis wasn't certain he could have lived up to.
"So you would never have married? Had children?" he asked Gareth softly.
"I became a priest. That is not the life one chooses if they wish to have a wife and family."
"You did it because of guilt." Fydelis sounded petulant even to his own ears. He was taking his time, touching as much of Gareth's flesh as he could, despite it being ragged and wounded.
"Partially true," Gareth conceded. "I wanted to help, to rebuild what had been destroyed, and I was so tired of killing."
"But you could have created life by having a family, children…"
Gareth cast a glance over his shoulder at Fydelis. "Perhaps, but any love I might have offered to anyone— especially a woman— would have been a lie."
Fydelis nearly threw his hands up, but sitting behind Gareth it would have been useless in expressing his frustration. "You are so devoted to a guardian who no longer exists that you are willing to sacrifice happiness?"
"It's not just that." Gareth shook his head. After a moment, he half-turned his body to look at Fydelis, his forehead creased by confusion. "What do you mean 'no longer exists'?"
Fydelis pressed his teeth harder into his bottom lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood. As much as it might have made him feel justification for his argument, he could not be so selfish to tell Gareth that this sacrifice he'd made… this guardian he'd served and still loved was gone forever. He looked away. "Nothing. Never mind. I'm just being pettish. You should be used to that by now. Let's try to sleep. Morning will be here far too soon." He scooted around and lay down alongside Gareth once more, his back to him.
The shadow of heat from Gareth's hand briefly hovered above his cheek, but did not descend to touch him.
"Goodnight then."
***
Gareth had nearly hoped that Fydelis was right about his guardian being gone, and that was a blasphemy in itself. It would have meant that he had no reason to suppress the feelings he was having towards this creature who accompanied him in the guise of a man. Seeing Fydelis's body, naked and shivering, as he'd retrieved the salve for his back, had put in his mind the desire to get up and wrap him in his arms from behind, to warm him, and then… Gareth rolled a little onto his back, pressing just enough against one of the stinging welts to remind his body the price of arousal. It was bad enough that he found himself caring about this demon. At least that he could reconcile as being common kindness. But desire…
Where he'd previously blamed Fydelis for a magickal temptation cast upon him, he realized now that it was all coming from within himself. He wanted to touch Fydelis, to hold him, and be held in return. Still, he could not stop seeing this as a test. Despite the fact that the Sunderer had laid claim to his soul, he felt that the Creator was still watching, and Gareth could still serve him by saving others; by sacrificing his own desires for this little beast who seduced him ever closer towards the dark draw of lust.
***
The Sunderer had been kind, but his patience had waned, and boredom got the best of him, so Fydelis was not surprised when he was jerked through the Veil once more. In a way, it was a relief. It would remind him the price of love— the pain of desire and sex.
"My little angel," Malaketh cooed as Fydelis knelt before him. The Sunderer pressed a bare, clawed foot against the top of Fydelis's head, carding his thick, crimson hair between his long, bony toes. Fydelis obediently took the largest one into his mouth as Malaketh drew his foot along Fydelis's bottom lip, tasting the blood raised on his tongue from the sharp talons.
"You take such good care of him. Now, let me take care of you."
Malaketh's care was much the same as his contempt. Because Fydelis had been away for some time, he took a special, slow delight in dismantling him tonight. He forced his way inside of him; pounded him into a mess of broken bones and ruptured organs. He regrew his wings and plucked each snowy feather, one by one, even inserting the sharp pin of the largest calamus into the opening of his penis to keep it hard and aching. Fydelis hated it, but appreciated every moment of suffering sensations the Sunderer inflicted upon him. It was all he knew of physical intimacy, and sadly, all he would ever know.
When he finally came back to his human body, Fydelis was shaking and wailing, and Gareth was holding him close, holding him in his arms and soothing him like a child. Under the guise of his feverish dreaming, Fydelis leaned up from where he lay— pressed against Gareth's chest— and he brushed a soft kiss to his lips. He didn't linger, for fear that he would suffer the rejection of Gareth's response. He felt Gareth's arms tense around him, but then he sighed and rested his chin on top of Fydelis's head. It was a small thing, but it was enough for now.