Chapter Nine

The sound of hooves reached his ears and Rhys raised his head from where he sat against the boulder, instinctively checking his ward. Holding, though he knew in his heart he was no match for Aethan. But it would keep that bastard Lorin out. Aethan was demanding, thorough. But Lorin was purposefully cruel, delighting in Rhys’s pain when he took his pleasure in him.

He would one day kill them both.

Rhys sighed, knowing such thoughts would distress Luka. His lover held all life sacred, to be treated tenderly, with care. Rhys had never seen him harsh to any living creature. He even thanked the river for water and the fire for its warmth. Rhys loved him completely but could never be that man. His anger was all that had sustained him through the nightmares he’d endured as his father’s prisoner.

Rhys covered his face with his hands and shuddered with the horror of it. After his mother had died, Rhys had survived, loading crates for the shop keepers in Moss Hollow, assisting the butcher and blacksmith, running errands. But Aethan had come for Rhys’s mother, and on finding Aliya long dead, took Rhys instead. He’d spent months in that damp cellar, beaten, starved, repeatedly raped by a man who should have nurtured him. And when Aethan had him captive once again, after he had left Luka, Lorin had joined in, taking him separately or together, seeing how far they could torment and torture him until he broke. He’d clung to his anger as a lifeline, enduring the pain and degradation, plotting his revenge.

“I’m sorry, Luka,” he whispered now, clenching his hands into fists. “There’s no forgiveness in me.”

The horses came to a stop at the edge of the glen, but he didn’t look up, gathering his strength. There was a push against his ward. A stronger one, then Lorin swore at him in fury, instantly followed by Aethan’s mocking laughter. Rhys came close to feeling sorry for Lorin. Rhys had endured Aethan’s biting derision as his captive. But to live with it day in and day out, without reprieve, as Lorin did? It could drive a man…insane.

“Still not as strong as your brother, Lorin? Not surprising, given how weak your mother proved. Kaelyn was always a disappointment. It might have been a mercy had she died giving birth to you.”

Even though directed at his half brother, Rhys was shocked by his callous, cruel words, and let his ward slip. Not much, and he hastened to reinforce it, but it was too late. Lorin followed Aethan into the glen. Rhys focused his gaze at the moss under his feet, managing not to flinch when Aethan crouched in front of him. Lorin loomed over them both.

“Where’s your witch?” Aethan asked as if this were a pleasant conversation in front of the hearth. Then he made a clicking sound with his tongue. “I remember, he sent you out as a distraction, gambling I’d chase you, leaving him free to do as he will. But I would have thought he’d find a way to be with you now. Has he grown tired of you already? Spoiled goods? Or did you prove too much for him? I like to think I…improved your skills.”

He ran a finger up Rhys’s thigh and Rhys batted his hand away, lurching to his feet. “Don’t touch me.”

“Ho, feeling feisty, are we?” Aethan’s lip curled. “Or is fucking that pretentious witch giving you airs? Perhaps you need to be shown your place. Shall we each take an end, front and back? My cock up your ass, Lorin down your slim throat?” He licked his lips. “You make such delicious sounds when we take you like that.”

Rhys knew Aethan was baiting him but couldn’t stop the surge of fury that left him shaking. Enough. He gathered his strength, meaning to attack Aethan with all he had, even if it killed him. But a sudden spark of heat against his hip gave him pause. Distracted, he slid a hand in his pocket, drew out the pink stone. It was warm to the touch, glowing faintly with an inner light. Beautiful.

“Who gave you that? Never mind.” Aethan scowled at the gem. “Luka’s always been a fool.” He made as if to snatch the stone, but Rhys pulled it out of reach. “Keep it, then, for all the good it will do you,” Aethan snarled, but kept his gaze on the rock until Rhys slid it back to his pocket.

He held the stone in his fingers a moment longer. Did this mean Luka was close? Clearly he’d wanted Rhys not to attack the others. He’d better hurry, then. Aethan would grow tired of talking soon enough and then Rhys would need to protect himself. He’d be damned if these men took him ever again.

“What did you mean when you said Luka used me as a distraction?” he asked, desperate to give Luka more time.

“Exactly that. Luka is cunning. I imagine while we’ve been chasing you, he’s set all kinds of machinations in motion.”

“But still you chased me.”

“Of course. I wasn’t ready to fight the witch. With you in our possession, I won’t need to.”

“Luka won’t stop because of me.”

Lorin snorted, reminding Rhys he had two sorcerers to deal with. “Luka’s besotted with you,” he said in disgust. “He would never leave you in harm’s way.”

“Be silent, Lorin,” Aethan snapped, temper a hot flash in the cold air. “I’m talking with your brother at the moment.”

Lorin clamped his lips shut, but fury smoldered in his blue eyes as he gazed at Aethan’s back. Rhys wondered how Aethan couldn’t feel it, but then concluded Aethan didn’t care.

“As I was saying,” Aethan continued, “Luka wouldn’t hesitate to use you to gain his ends.” His voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “I’ve seen it before.”

Rhys swayed, the discordant tones of Aethan’s voice winding in his head, the words playing incessantly, laying seeds of doubt. Could it be true? Luka had abandoned him once, sent him away to fend for himself, uncaring what befell him at Aethan’s hands. There was nothing to keep him from betraying Rhys now.

Sickened, Rhys peered between his lashes, and caught Aethan’s triumphant smirk before he hid it away behind a concerned look. Bastard. But Rhys didn’t dare reach out for Luka, though he could feel him drawing closer. He only needed to hold on a little longer.

“What do you mean?” he asked, putting a quaver in his voice as if he had begun to doubt Luka. Never!

Aethan put a conciliatory hand on his arm, forcing Rhys to suppress a shudder of revulsion. The man claimed to be his father, and yet all he ever received was pain and humiliation at his hands. He looked up and saw Lorin avidly watching, and a sudden thought occurred to him. Luka’s magic was pure, a gift from the earth. But Aethan and Lorin’s sorcery was a dark, corrupt thing. Was the horrific act of incest the final key to twisting magic to their terrible purpose?

The thought made him feel powerful. If he could somehow use this knowledge to his advantage…

He looked down at Aethan’s hand on his arm. “Tell me.”

“Despite what she might have said, I loved your mother. Aliya was a delight! A dark-haired beauty. Wild thing in bed—” Both Rhys and Lorin hissed at this and he shouted with laughter. “Easy, boys! Kaelyn was the same.” He looked between them and a smile curled his lips. “I only now notice. You each have Kaelyn’s fair complexion and Aliya’s deep blue eyes.” His fingers idly caressed Rhys’s arm. “But it is my seed that put the fire and magic in your blood.”

Rhys exchanged a glance with Lorin and saw his own fury mirrored in a face that could be his own. He hoped his emotions were better hidden.

“What does this have to do with Luka?” he asked, surprised he could speak in so level a voice.

“Why everything, my dear. While I was making love to Aliya, Luka was enamored of her as well. I speak the truth,” he said in reply to Rhys’s quickened breath. “Did he never tell you? He was Kaelyn’s guest at the manor, for his health, she claims. Whatever the reason, he couldn’t keep his eyes off Aliya. It became embarrassing, the way he marked her steps when she passed.

“Finally, it grew wearisome, and I took Aliya for myself, to spare her the undesired attention. It was ludicrous how hurriedly Luka abandoned her after that. Stealing away in the night without a word to anyone. And when she left us shortly afterward to a life of want and degradation, where was Luka? I think he knew all along where she lived, the squalor in which she raised you. Why didn’t he help her? Or you? What kind of love is that, after all? He discarded your mother back then, and now you. Why do you stay with him?”

Rhys couldn’t answer and unclenched the fists he held only when his hands started to ache. Aethan lied, but there was a grain of truth in there somewhere.

“Luka loved my mother?” he asked, voice hoarse, playing for time. But he definitely had questions for Luka when they met up.

“Did you never wonder why he chose you, Rhys? Out of all the people he’s known in his long life? And he is old, my dear, trust me. My father spoke of him as a contemporary, a witch of extraordinary power. I caught a glimpse of him at Father’s table when I was a youth, and he was as timeless and handsome as he is now. Ageless. Why would someone like him choose you, unless as a reminder of a lost love?” He glanced at Lorin. “We all make do.”

Bleak despair flashed over Lorin’s face, replaced by a mask of cold indifference. Rhys’s heart clenched. How young was Lorin when Aethan first sought his bed? His mother had died of consumption when he was but a child. How long after before Aethan gave in to his dark, unspeakable desires?

Aethan made a sudden move, kissing him hard. Rhys’s first instinct was to shove him away in revulsion, but he couldn’t fight both him and Lorin together. Luka, hurry!

In that instant, footsteps pounded across the glen, and Aethan was plucked from him and held at arm’s length, Luka’s hand fisted in his tunic. Luka was a flame in the mist, magic surrounding him. “Do not touch him,” he said, voice low, dangerous, vibrating in the cold air, setting Rhys’s teeth on edge.

Aethan gave a shaky laugh. “Why, Luka, I—”

“Never again.” It was a command, sharp as a blow, and thunder rumbled overhead. This was more than magic. Power surged under Rhys’s boots, thrummed in the air around them. Luka compelled, and the earth itself answered. Rhys watched Luka, pride and fear surging inside his breast. Lorin seemed terrified, while the color drained from Aethan’s continence. He appeared shaken to the core, shocked.

Time hung suspended on a knife blade, a heartbeat of deadly peril, then Aethan nodded his proud head, hatred in his eyes. “As you wish.” Luka released him and he drew a breath, confidence returning. “But why do you bother, Luka, when Rhys clearly despises you?”

Luka tilted his head, curious, while Rhys’s heart thudded.

“Can’t you see it? I told him about Aliya.” Confusion swept Luka’s face. “Don’t you remember? You loved her and then abandoned her when she needed you the most. And now you abandon him.”

Luka swiveled to Rhys, lips white, eyes pleading. “That’s not how it was. Let me explain—”

“No,” Aethan interjected. “I won’t let you speak and bewitch him with your words. You left him and Aliya to starve. There is no defense for that. No forgiveness.”

Fire flashed in Luka’s brown eyes, answered once again by thunder. Lorin stepped closer, and the air crackled as he and Aethan gathered forces. Rhys shivered. Death was near, breathing over his shoulder. What could he do? Luka, his gentle lover, would kill to defend him. He couldn’t let him do that.

Desperate, he shoved his hands in his pockets, gathering his own strength, and felt the stone Luka had given him. He drew it out, turning it over in his palm. It felt warm to the touch, softly lit as if it sensed Luka’s presence. Aethan caught sight of it and his harsh laughter grated over Rhys’s taut nerves. Luka looked from Rhys’s face down to the gem, and pain darkened his eyes.

“Oh, my dear Luka, your expression!” Aethan crowed. “Beyond priceless. To think you had given the man your heart, and he not know the value of such a gift.”

Rhys made a confused sound and Aethan looked at him, his smile beyond cruel, his voice dripping spite when he spoke, “Didn’t you realize? Luka tore out a piece of his essence, his soul, and shoved it into the gem so you could have his heart always. But it is more than a token of affection. It is his talisman to you. He would come to you, wherever you were, should you need him.”

He turned his gaze on Luka who stood, head bowed, looking defeated. “Of course, he would not want such a gift from a man who condemned his mother to deprivation and a painful death.”

Rhys stared hard at the gem resting on his palm. How he must have inadvertently hurt Luka, not understanding the precious gift he’d been given. But death still hovered at his shoulder, mirrored in Aethan’s wild, glittering eyes, Lorin’s hatred, and Luka’s clenched hands at his sides.

“No, I wouldn’t want it.” He tipped his hand and watched, aching, as the jewel dropped to the mossy ground. He ignored Luka’s soft sound of pain and stepped forward, pushing the stone in the mud with his boot.

“I’m leaving,” he muttered, choked with emotion, and shoved through the men, heading for his horse. He felt Aethan and Lorin at his back but didn’t pause. Luka! He gave a quick glance over his shoulder, but Luka didn’t watch him. He’d left the glen, heading down the trail the way he’s come, damn it all.