Chapter Twenty-Eight

Dusk was falling before Luka drew the stallion to a walk, head lifted. Rhys scanned the area with sharp eyes, the trees close, boulders tumbled at the base of a rocky hillside.

“What is it?” he whispered against Luka’s ear, feeling the tenseness of his body.

“I’m not sure…” Luka dismounted, and Rhys was quick to follow, stifling his swift anger, knowing it was caused by fear. Luka was never as careful as Rhys could wish. He ran a hand down the horse’s neck, which stood, ears pricked, head turned to the closest group of rocks. Luka headed in that direction and Rhys walked behind him, to his left, senses alert for any hint of danger in the air.

They drew near to the boulders and Luka stopped abruptly, making a sound of distress. Rhys stared into the shadows between the rocks, and frowned at a deeper shadow, a man, obviously asleep on the ground beneath them. The light would soon be gone, but it was easy to discern the brilliant splash of his red hair. Tarian.

Luka’s sigh sounded loud in the quiet, animals and insects dropping silent at their intrusion. “Why would he do this? I wanted him safe.”

Rhys made no reply. It was not his place to betray the young man’s heart. Instead, he went to the rocks and knelt, reaching into the small space to place a hand on Tarian’s shoulder. Instantly, Tarian flinched and scrambled back, a long knife gleaming in his hand before he was completely awake.

“Peace,” Rhys urged. “It is only us.”

Tarian sucked a breath, gave a sharp nod, and climbed out of his haven, slipping the knife away. They stared at each other, then Tarian bit his lip and turned his glance aside. “I had hoped you wouldn’t find me.”

“But what are you doing?” Luka asked, clearly confused.

Tarian reddened, drew another deep breath and swiveled to face them. “You saved my life, my lord. Saved my father’s life. I will not abandon you while Aethan is free.”

“But…” Luka sent Rhys a distressed look.

“What does your father say?” Rhys put in, going carefully. Tarian’s pride was at stake.

“He understands my reasons.”

“And is he here as well?” Luka cast about helplessly.

“No. He has gone on to see to the farm. He didn’t want me to come but knew he could only stop me by tying me to a chair.” Tarian’s calm broke, and he held out his hands, pleading, “Let me help you, lord. It would shame me not to offer what little aide I can give.”

“It would be good to have another set of eyes and a strong arm,” Rhys observed. Tarian was young, but there was strength in him and courage in his face.

Luka’s glance held a question and Rhys nodded in answer, and Luka placed a hand on Tarian’s arm. “Your help will be welcome. Thank you.”

Rhys frowned at the small space between the boulders Tarian had hidden in, and Tarian offered, “There’s more room behind here, enough for us and the horse.”

He picked up his pack and led them to a trail between the tall rocks, barely discernable in the growing shadows, opening into a grassy area with snow piled against the boulders. The stallion crossed to the far rocks and nibbled the green blades, seeming content. Rhys stared at Luka, hunched in his coat. It would be unwise to start a fire to warm him. He undid his cloak, but Luka knelt, cupping his hands in front of him.

A soft gasp escaped Tarian, and Rhys met his wide-eyed gaze, biting his lip on a smile. It was one thing to know Luka was a witch, another to see him use his magic in this way. He was grace and power, face kindled, earnest, achingly beautiful as he conversed with the earth he loved. After a long moment, Luka placed his hands flat on the ground, and warmth spread out from him, drying the melted snow, heating the air around them.

Rhys drew Tarian aside. “Luka will ward the area for us. Try to sleep now. I’ll wake you later to take a watch.”

Tarian nodded, though his gaze traveled back to Luka, who’d risen to his feet. Luka was still, face raised, a small granite stone in his hand. Rhys knew he gathered energy, to push out in a circle around them few, if any, would have the strength to break. Pride swelled in Rhys’s chest, understanding Tarian’s awe completely.

Tarian settled on the warm ground, head on his pack. Rhys went to Luka and embraced him. “You should sleep, sweet witch. I’ll guard for a while.”

“In a moment.” Luka sounded distracted, and tugged Rhys’s sleeve, drawing him across the small space, away from Tarian. He sat, pulling Rhys down with him. He didn’t speak, his gaze trained on Tarian’s slight form, a darker shadow in the gloom.

“What’s wrong? Luka, talk to me.” Rhys cursed the growing darkness that kept him from seeing Luka’s expression.

Luka drew a troubled breath. Another. “He’s been in Aethan’s hands,” he said in little more than a whisper.

Rhys’s heart clenched, but he pushed away the spurt of panic. “I was in Aethan’s hand as well. Twice.”

Luka took up Rhys’s hand, twined their fingers. “You frightened me at first. So young, beautiful, full of pain. You tugged at my heart where no one had reached in many long years. I nursed you to health, falling more in love with your courage and sweetness every day, until I was lost in you. We’d made a connection the moment I found you. If you had proven my downfall, I would still have cherished every moment we had together.

“I am proud of Tarian, of his goodness and bravery in the face of Aethan’s abuse. But…we didn’t make the same connection.” Luka rested his head on Rhys’s shoulder, played with his fingers. “I don’t crave him like I do you.”

Rhys snorted. “I should hope not. I would take offense at that. What are you afraid of, my love?”

“That he might betray us to Aethan. Never on purpose,” he answered Rhys’s startled breath. “But because Aethan has been intimate with him, he may be able to find us through him.”

“Aethan has had me, Luka,” Rhys reminded him grimly. “He and Lorin both.”

“And since you and I are lovers, darling, I can sense when his magic touches you and block him. I do not have that with Tarian.”

“No, you do not.” Rhys paused. He’d never thought to take another lover. Luka was all he desired. But what did Luka want? They had never discussed it. He glanced across at Tarian, wrapped in his cloak. The young man slept, thankfully. He picked up Luka’s hand, kissed his palm.

“He would not be opposed to it, I think,” he murmured against Luka’s skin, and felt his startled jolt. Luka looked at him, his eyes a mere gleam in the darkness.

“I have no wish to bed the lad,” Luka told him firmly, sounding somewhat shocked. “I love you.”

“One does not always need love to—”

Luka pressed urgent fingers to his lips, stopping his words. “I could not, Rhys. When we…fuck, it is an extension…an expression, of my love for you. I could not… Not with anyone else.”

Rhys heard the slight distress in his voice, and it dawned on him that Luka didn’t know how he felt. That he worried Rhys wasn’t content with him. He wished he could see his face more clearly. Luka had just lost his wife for the second time, old wounds opening. She’d left him without a word of explanation. How that must have torn his tender, lonely heart. Hurt that profound could burrow deep, leave an uncertainty behind Luka should never feel.

“Come here,” he said gently, sliding his arms around Luka. Luka trembled, drew a quivering breath and rested his head on Rhys’s shoulder.

“I love you with all that I am,” he murmured against Luka’s ear. “Your touch sets me on fire. In my darkest, loneliest nights, you were my dream. My lover and friend. I could not want another—”

Luka kissed him hungrily, passionately, and Rhys gloried in it. That this beautiful, powerful man could want him still amazed him, humbled him, filled him with wonder. He kissed him back with all the love in his heart, but soon Luka’s exhaustion registered, and Rhys eased away with a final nibble of his tender lips, once again bleeding.

Luka gave a soft, self-conscious laugh and wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. “I must be more tired than I thought.”

“Then sleep, sweet witch. I’ll keep guard.”

Luka glanced around the small clearing. “No need. The wards are sound.”

“Excellent.” Rhys lay down, pulling Luka into his embrace. Luka shifted, getting comfortable against his side, and it wasn’t long before his breathing evened into sleep. Rhys closed his eyes, mind drifting.

And opened them again in what seemed moments, though morning light had found them between the tall stones. Luka still slept, a warm presence against him, and he tilted his head to look at him. His face had completely healed besides a few red scabs marring the rich brown skin. His braid had loosened, and wisps of dark hair brushed his cheeks. He appeared young, defenseless, in the soft sunlight, despite the strands of gray threading his hair.

Fondness filled Rhys’s heart, and he wished, not for the first time, that they were in Luka’s cottage, free of Aethan’s threat, where they could live in peace and joy. He firmed his lips, resolving to bring it about. Luka deserved it. They both did.

The scent of wood smoke drifted to him and he eased away from Luka and rolled to his side. Tarian sat by a small fire cooking something on a spit. Luka’s ward would keep the smoke from traveling, but what… Rhys widened his eyes in alarm even as his stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten meat since they’d escaped Aethan’s stronghold. He rose to his feet, careful not to wake Luka, and hurried across the short space.

Tarian glanced up as he approached. “It’s cooked, if you’d like to share?” he said, and Rhys winced at the note of pride in his young voice.

Rhys crouched across the fire from him. “This is very kind of you,” he began cautiously, and sighed as a troubled look touched Tarian’s face. “Luka doesn’t eat meat. The loss of any life wounds him. Don’t be upset,” he hastened to add at his dismay, “You are very skilled to have snared a rabbit in winter. But it would be polite not to eat him in Luka’s presence.”

“I’m sorry, my lord. I didn’t know. I’ll get rid of it at once.” Tarian’s hands shook as he pulled the rabbit from the fire, coming close to dropping it in his haste.

“Tarian, it’s all right. Simply eat him in the rocks where Luka won’t see. This is my fault. I will instruct you on the things you will need to know while you serve our lord.”

“Thank you, lord—”

“First thing. I am not a lord. You are to call me Rhys, and ask me any question concerning Luka’s wellbeing. He is all that matters.”

Tarian ducked his head. “Thank you, my… Rhys,” he said, and gave a short bow, then hurried with the rabbit through a gap in the stones.

Rhys watched him go, worry gnawing at him. What did the young man want from them? Better question, what were they to do with him? Did he hope to become Luka’s apprentice? Work beside them? His depth of feeling for Luka would ensure his loyalty, but would discovering Luka didn’t return the sentiment change that?

Luka stirred and sat up, and Rhys ran a hand over his face. Questions for another day. Luka approached and Rhys smiled at him as he sat across the fire. Luka looked disheveled, weary, and utterly adorable when he blushed at Rhys’s scrutiny.

“Where’s Tarian?” Luka wrinkled his nose but made no comment about the strong odor of cooked meat. At that moment Tarian returned, red-faced, but cupping something in his hands. Berries and a few wild onions.

“It’s all I could find in the area,” he apologized.

Luka hastily rose and accepted the offering. “Thank you, Tarian. This is lovely.”

They sat by the fire, and Luka held his hands out to Tarian for first choice, who picked out a few berries. Rhys took half of the remainder. “This is wonderful, Tarian. You have my gratitude,” he said and Tarian blushed and smiled at the praise. Then he looked down at the berries balanced in his mutilated palm and a troubled expression crossed his face.

Luka touched his hand, startling Tarian into glancing up, and Rhys’s heart squeezed at the distress in his sky-blue eyes.

“I am more sorry than I can say about your hand,” Luka told him, and wouldn’t let go when Tarian tried to pull it back. “Aethan was beyond cruel and left a tragic reminder that will be with you all of your life. But this is not who you are, and you have no reason for shame. You are brave and intelligent and generous, and I am honored to call you my friend.”

Tarian’s lips parted, eyes widening at Luka’s words. He blinked, and tears glittered in his eyes. Rhys studied Luka’s face, looked at his dark palm holding Tarian’s mangled hand. There was no magic being used here, only Luka’s certainty and the moment of Tarian’s acceptance, when joy swept his face and he ducked his head to hide his tears.

They ate in easy silence after that, then Tarian doused the fire with snow while Rhys gathered the packs. Luka crossed the small area and caressed the stallion, speaking quietly in his ear until they came up to him.

“I’ll walk for a while. I would enjoy stretching my legs,” Rhys decided, ignoring Tarian’s protest. He slipped out between the boulders, the others following, and Tarian mounted, Luka swinging up behind him on the stallion. Once settled, they started along the game trail in the rough direction of home.

The forest closed in around them as they traveled, Rhys setting a steady pace, eating up the miles. They paused occasionally for him to rest and for Tarian to melt snow for water. Tarian walked at midday, followed by Luka. But Rhys balked at that, and took over before his time, overcoming Luka’s objections by pointing out he walked too slowly. An absurdity, since Luka easily held the pace, but Tarian took Rhys’s side and bustled Luka onto the horse despite his protests.

The sun broke from the clouds to their left in late afternoon, unaccountably lightening Rhys’s mood. He glanced over his shoulder at the others and smiled. They dozed, the stallion seeming content to follow Rhys wherever he led. He calculated they’d reach Oak Knoll an hour after sunfall. It would be wonderful to sleep in a bed, Luka tucked against his side. Tarian on a pallet by the fire, stomach full of Ravan’s delicious stew.

He walked on, humming a stray tune he heard on the edge of consciousness, and stumbled, realizing he’d come close to falling asleep on his feet. He glanced again over his shoulder. The stallion had fallen back a bit and Rhys saw with concern he had his head up, ears pricked, as if sensing danger. He swiveled forward at a thud on the path ahead, heart pounding, and found Lorin blocking the way.

“Hello, brother.” Lorin smirked, and punched him in the face, knocking him to his knees. Rhys surged up, head ringing as the song he heard grew louder, deafening, and Lorin easily stepped out of his path and struck the side of his head, dropping him to a knee again. The chains of the spell woven in song weighted him down and he could have wept with relief when Luka shouted behind him and the clomp of hooves rushed up.

Lorin snarled in fury, and perilously close to too late Rhys spotted the knife in his hand glittering in an arc toward him. He threw himself to the side and cried out as the blade sank into his back, behind his left shoulder, searing like fire. Darkness gathered in his vision. Lorin dodged into the forest just as the stallion reached him, then the song hit its crescendo in his mind and he screamed at the pain and dropped into unconsciousness.