Chapter Twenty-Four

Rhys frowned, coming reluctantly awake as voices broke through his pleasant dream of Luka’s hearth and eager arms. Where was Luka? He’d slept pressed against the warmth of his body. He grinned smugly, remembering how Luka had moaned and trembled in his arms and came so beautifully. He’d wanted to give him a little pleasure before they faced the danger awaiting them this day.

Opening an eye, he sighed on spotting Luka with Tarian and Ravan by the fire. He was unsurprised to find Ravan there, though he’d hoped they’d have a little time before the trials of the day started.

“Good morning,” he murmured, sitting up and running a hand through his mussed hair, and his heart rushed when Luka sent him a heated glance, a secret smile on his lips. What he wouldn’t give to steal away with Luka at that moment. Travel across country, the sea. Leave the Well of Hope behind, forgotten. Chances were, Aethan would never find it in Ash Swale.

But if he did…

Rhys hung his head. They couldn’t take that risk.

“There’s tea, lord,” Tarian offered, pulling him from his dark thoughts.

“Thank you.” Rhys joined them, taking the cup Tarian offered him with a grateful dip of his head. The lad looked more rested today, though fear lingered in his blue eyes, as well it should.

“Luka, is it true the horses will not go into Ash Swale?” he asked out of hand, an idea forming.

Luka gave him a considering look. “Nothing living would go without duress into the swale. It’s a dangerous, loathsome place.”

“A good location to hide the Well, then.” He blew on his tea, purposefully not looking at Tarian. “Do we need someone to stay at camp with them, then? Keep a fire going in case one of us is injured? Our packs ready in case we need to leave in a hurry?”

“Those are good points.” Luka nibbled on a dried cranberry.

Rhys risked a glance at Tarian, hoping he would volunteer. It would be a way for him to avoid the swale and yet be of help.

Tarian glared back, lips pressed together. “You won’t keep me from his side,” he vowed in an unconscious challenge.

Luka looked between them, clearly confused, and Rhys’s heart warmed with fondness. Luka had his long hair unbound, framing his handsome face and dark, compassionate eyes. He appeared young and unsure in the soft morning light. Small wonder Tarian had lost his heart. Rhys had given his to Luka long ago.

“My horses will be fine on their own. They would never stray,” Ravan put in dryly. “We need Tarian with us.”

“As you wish,” Luka said. He still seemed puzzled by the exchange and blushed at their attention. Self-conscious, he deftly braided his hair. Rhys cast about and came up with the bit of leather Luka used for his hair and tossed it to him. He couldn’t help a sly wink and laughed softly when Luka reddened further.

He caught Tarian’s eye and they shared a grin, Rhys relieved to see he didn’t begrudge him Luka’s affection. He was turning out to be a strong, reliable young man. He must be a great comfort to his father and a son to be proud of. Rhys looked forward to the day they could return him safely home.

They finished their meal then Luka rose to his feet, stretching his lean, taut body.

“It’s time to be going,” he said gravely. “Tarian, you will be with Ravan. Do her bidding without question or hesitation.”

“Yes, lord,” Tarian answered, climbing to his feet.

“Rhys.” Luka hesitated, reluctant when he needed to be resolute.

“I am yours to command,” Rhys assured him. Luka had to know he would die for him if necessary. Sadness touched Luka’s eyes, and he covered Rhys’s hands with his own. Ravan and Tarian moved away, calling to the horses.

“We will end this today, dear heart,” Luka vowed, and Rhys gave him a firm nod.

“That we will,” he answered, and leaned forward to kiss Luka’s lips to seal the promise. Luka gathered the packs while Rhys dowsed the fire, then they joined the others near the edge of their camp. Rhys felt the wards fall as they mounted the horses, Tarian on a rust colored roan with Ravan, Luka taking the stallion.

Rhys swung onto the white mare and they moved out; Rhys unsurprised when Luka took the lead as they trotted the last few leagues to the edge of the forest. He wrinkled his nose at an unpleasant odor on the air. “Sulfur?” he guessed.

“Yes, and limestone pools.” Luka slid off his mount, and the others followed him, lining up on the slopes into Ash Swale. “Watch the mud pits. Many are bottomless.”

Rhys stared at the terrain below them in disbelief. He’d heard rumors of this land, where the entrails of the earth had ruptured, spilling to the surface. The sloping sides of the swale were as gray as volcanic ash, the swale itself spreading to the horizon north and south and a league across. Steam rose from noxious pools splashed across the desolate landscape, the pools and ledges stained icy blues to mustard yellows, pinks, and deepest rusts.

The air was heavy, unpleasantly warm, stinking of vile fumes and rotting earth. Sickly grasses struggled to grow in the marshy earth between the bubbling springs.

Rhys pinched his nose. “You hid the Well in there, Luka?” A rumble halted his words, steam hissing from a funnel directly below them, water surging upward in a geyser of heat and the stench of sulfur. Rhys shuddered. “I’d rather not go down there, unless necessary.”

Ravan snorted inelegantly while Luka simply ignored him, as well he should. Tarian said nothing, hunched in Luka’s cloak, though his expression was troubled and more than a little frightened.

While Ravan spoke to her horses, whispering unintelligible words in their ears, Rhys surveyed the gray slope with his eyes, searching for a safe way down. The horses trotted away, probably to hide themselves in the woods until needed.

“There seems to be a path over there.” Rhys pointed out the barely discernable track to Luka, though he couldn’t image what animal would use the trail down into the horror below.

Luka nodded. “Follow me. Stay close,” he murmured, but Ravan put a hand on his arm, halting him.

“We go to battle, Luka,” she said gravely. “This is a time to put off your humility, for Aethan will use it against you. Wear the cloak I gave you and face him from a position of strength.” Luka shook his head but Ravan went on, “You must. I know it means nothing to you, but Aethan will view it, and you, as the challenge of an equal. Someone he should be wary of. It will shake his confidence, and we need all the advantage that will bring.”

Luka sent Rhys a pleading look, but Rhys shrugged. “I must agree with Ravan, my witch. You’ve been Aethan’s captive, even for a short time. To him you appear weak and he may attack instantly. But if you meet him as a lord, with strength gathered around you, he may hesitate, and lives might be saved.”

Grave brown eyes studied him a moment, then Luka inclined his head, though his dusky cheeks reddened. “If this is your wish,” he murmured and undid his coat. Rhys watched him, his heart reaching out to his shy lover and the role he was forced to assume. But he could see no alternative.

Tarian hastily removed the thick cloak from his shoulders, red-faced, clearly self-conscious of his mutilated hand as he exchanged garments with Luka and pulled on Luka’s coat almost reverently. Luka swung the rich burgundy cloak around himself and Rhys stepped forward, settling it on his shoulders, fastening the silver clasp. He tilted his head to take in the effect while Luka blushed and bit his lips under his gaze.

“Here.” Rhys reached over his shoulders and undid his hair, loosening the silky strands so it fell in a dark wave around his face. Rhys put a finger under his chin, lifting it. “Handsome and proud, sweet witch,” he murmured, and gave Luka a swift kiss despite their audience.

Luka laughed slightly, running his hands over the lush fabric. “Ravan, this is gorgeous, and I thank you for it. But I still feel a fool and pretender.”

“Don’t fuss, Luka. When this is over you can wear what you please.” Ravan reached for something in her pack, and Luka’s lips parted on a sharp inhalation, his eyes growing wide.

Rhys stood taller, the solemnity of the moment settling over him as Ravan laid a thin crown of woven oak on Luka’s head. “Luka, you are the son of the forest, the child of nature, with the earth’s power in your fingertips. No more hiding, or Aethan will steal all hope from the world and leave us in despair.”

Silence hung in the air, Rhys’s chest tightening with love and pride. He felt as if he were seeing Luka for the first time. Not as his lover and savior, but as a man of magic and energy and force. Beautiful and virile. His blood surged. He would have gone to his knees, would have let Luka fuck him into the ground then and there.

Instead, he took a step back and made Luka his most elegant bow. “My lord.”

Tarian was quick to do the same, eyes shining. But Luka looked uncomfortable and turned away, making for the narrow path Rhys had pointed out. Ravan laughed fondly and followed him.

“He is a great lord, is he not?” Tarian asked, awe in his voice as he watched them, their cloaks a splash of color in the bleak landscape, burgundy and blood red. Rhys glanced down at his own brilliant blue cloak then at Tarian wearing Luka’s rust brown coat.

“Just a moment,” he murmured and dug in the pack at his feet, retrieving the moss green cloak Ravan had packed for him for everyday use. He shook it out. Not as ostentatious as theirs, but it would suffice. He lifted a brow at Tarian, implying he remove Luka’s coat, but Tarian’s lips settled into a stubborn line.

“Very well. Now, you’re one of us,” he added and settled the cloak around Tarian’s shoulders. He took a moment to arrange his lovely red hair around his blushing face and smiled. Clearly the lad wasn’t used to such attention.

Picking up his pack, he motioned for Tarian to lead the way and caught his shy smile as Tarian passed him. He’d seen the tears in his blue eyes and cursed Aethan that the small act of kindness could so move him. He sighed. He’d been around Tarian’s age when Aethan had taken him the first time. It had required Luka’s infinite patience and kindness to make him feel…human, and worthy of love. He would strive to do the same for Tarian.

They came to the head of the trail and peered down. Luka and Ravan were already midway from the bottom, disturbed gray ash swirling around the hem of their cloaks.

“When we reach the bottom of the path, stay close. The swale can be more than dangerous,” Rhys cautioned Tarian and planted his feet carefully as they descended the path, slippery with ash. Tarian proved sure-footed and quickly caught the others up. Rhys was several steps behind when they reached the bottom, and the earth erupted.