Chapter Thirty-Two

Luka woke, and smiled at the warmth of Rhys’s body spooned against him, the huff of his soft snores tickling his neck. Luka rolled carefully to his back, easing Rhys onto his chest, where Rhys snuffled and buried his face in Luka’s shoulder and continued to sleep. Luka’s heart swelled, not large enough to hold the love he felt for this man in his arms.

He ached to be home, where he could make love leisurely, kiss and lick every inch of Rhys’s skin. Worship his delicious cock with mouth and tongue. Bury himself deep in his warm, pliant body.

He laughed a little, self-conscious, and willed his instant erection to subside. This was not the time nor place. A line of worry formed between his brows. Would the time ever come again? Grief struck him then, hard, and he clung to Rhys while helpless tears spilled down his face. If the plan he’d worked out last night succeeded, he may not return, or worse, Rhys might not love him afterward.

Rhys’s hand rested over Luka’s heart, rose and fell with his labored breathing. Not wanting to wake him, Luka slid carefully out from under him, and shivered in the cool morning air as he dressed. With a last, lingering, hungry glance at his lover, Luka crossed the bedroom floor and slipped into the main room, easing the door closed behind him.

Sunlight made its way through cracks in the battered shutters and poured through the broken planks in the door across from him. Sadness stirred in his heart. Last night, Ravan and he had built a cairn for Lorin and burned him, scattering his ashes in the forest with a prayer of peace from Luka. They’d shored up the door afterwards as best they could with wood from the barn.

The cottage had grown chill during the night, and Luka went to the fireplace. Tarian lay on a pallet by the hearth, a soft blanket over him, face sweet and peaceful in sleep. Luka had an errand for him and Ravan that day, but hoped to return him to his father soon, if that was Tarian’s wish. Or he would stay with them in Luka’s cabin, learning how to care for the earth and all its myriad creatures. Luka may have doubted him, once upon a time, but no more.

All that was a matter for the future. For the moment, Luka contented himself by making up the fire and putting water on for tea. He rummaged Ravan’s kitchen and put together porridge sweetened with honey and dried raspberries, setting the pot over the fire to cook. With nothing else he could think of to do, he turned with some reluctance to the couch and the problems it held for him.

Aethan slept curled into a tight ball, his face creased in troubled lines. What had the Well done to him? The power that had struck him had been great indeed. Had it shattered his mind? Luka went to him and knelt by his head. Aethan breathed rapidly as if his dreams distressed him. Pity stirred in Luka and he placed a hand on Aethan’s forehead, finding it hot to the touch.

Aethan’s eyes fluttered open, catching Luka in their glittering gaze. His lips moved as if he struggled to speak and Luka bent an ear close to hear him. “You have killed me,” Aethan hissed. Luka felt the sudden surge of power, the last of Aethan’s energy. Tarian bolted from his chair with a bewildered shout. Ravan stumbled from her room, still dressed as if she hadn’t yet been to bed, hair in wild disarray.

Luka focused his attention on Aethan, feeling the sorcerer’s power center on his own struggling heart, halting its frantic beating.

“No!” Luka bent his will, pushing against Aethan’s desperate hold, but in this instance, when Aethan attacked his own body, Aethan’s power proved the stronger. His proud heart faltered and stumbled to a stop.

“Please.” Luka called on all the strength he had. It couldn’t end like this. They had already lost Lorin in this terrible struggle between them. Would they lose another life to it? It was unthinkable. He pushed against Aethan’s will until he was shaking, but time was running out, and Aethan’s heart refused to beat again.

“I’m here.”

Luka’s pulse leaped. Rhys was in his head, power flooding to Luka in a wave of love and joy, the Well opening between them. Energy sparked in Luka’s fingertips, and he sent it into Aethan’s body, jolting him into life. Aethan’s heart leaped, pounding strongly. Aethan gasped in a lungful of air, then another, and he pushed Luka away and sat up, bewilderment in his once keen gaze.

“Why did you save me?” he cried out in anguish and scrubbed at the tears on his face. “I don’t know why I am here.”

Luka searched his eyes and saw the rising panic.

“You are safe, Aethan. All is well,” he began, but Aethan shook his head violently and scrambled to his feet.

“No! What is happening? I don’t recall who I am… Why…” Aethan gave a strangled cry and dodged past Luka, grabbing a long knife from the counter. “Stay away from me,” he snarled, holding the knife toward Ravan, who stood closest, paranoia and fear apparent in his hunched stance.

“What have I done?” Luka whispered, pain flooding through him. All his choices were proving wrong, time after time. He reached a hand toward Aethan. “Let me help—”

“Stay back.” Aethan’s frantic gaze darted between them, and he edged along the counter. With a sudden feint of the knife at Ravan, he bolted around her and sprinted for the door.

Luka made to follow, but Ravan’s sharp call stopped him. “Leave him be, Papa,” she cautioned, going up to him. “I see his mind. He would not hesitate to kill you.”

Aethan pushed aside the boards bracing the door and shoved it open with his shoulder. He hesitated at the sight of the pristine snow glittering in the sunlight beyond the threshold but then stomped through the thick layer, quickly disappearing into the opposite trees. Luka quivered with the need to go after him, Ravan’s hand on his arm tightening.

Tarian had watched the scene with wide eyes, but now he searched Luka’s face with a keen gaze. He nodded once, bowed, and trotted after Aethan, snatching up a cloak on the way out. Luka wondered helplessly what he had read in his expression, when he’d tried so hard to mask his panic and fear.

Ravan sighed after them. “Come and sit, witch,” she told him with a tug on his sleeve. “You are not responsible for all the harm in the world.”

Luka took the chair Tarian had used and propped his chin on his hand, not caring when cold air swirled into the cottage from the broken doorway while Ravan stirred the porridge.

“I am at fault, in this case,” he said after a moment, despair licking at his senses. “It was I who pulled the Well of Hope from the earth and set all this in motion.” He buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know what to do.”

Ravan made an impatient sound, but before she could comment, the bedroom door opened, and Rhys’s familiar tread crossed the room. He knelt by Luka’s chair and Luka allowed himself to be pulled against his shoulder, finding comfort in the strong arms holding him.

Rhys ran fingers over his hair, soothing Luka’s troubled heart. “We have discussed this before, my witch.”

“I know. I would save him though, if I could.” In a moment, Luka sighed and sat up, brushing at a stray tear. “I would not have hurt him like this—”

“Do you regret saving our lives, Luka?” Ravan snapped, clearly out of patience with him.

Stung, Luka thinned his lips, refusing to reply. Rhys patted his knee, then drew up a stool beside him, putting his hands out to the fire.

“Tarian went after him?” Rhys asked in the tense silence.

“Yes,” Ravan answered, handing him a mug filled with tea. She passed one to Luka as well. “Perhaps when they return, we can sort out what to do with Aethan. He’s clearly not the same man.”

“I wouldn’t think so,” Rhys stated, and sipped his tea.

Luka drank his as well, and thanked Ravan when she handed him a bowl of porridge, not meeting her eyes. He wouldn’t look at Rhys either, though his lover tried to catch his gaze. The time was coming to implement his plan, Aethan’s panic only reinforcing his resolve, though his heart froze with fear. Yet he could think of no other solution to all that had gone wrong since that fateful, terrible day he’d called the Well to him. They would never agree to it, though, these two whom he loved the best.

The door creaked on its broken hinges and Luka put aside his bowl and stood when Tarian entered the cottage, trailing snow behind him as he came up to the fire. His face was pale, eyes wide and haunted, and Luka’s heart clenched, but he bit his lip against his questions, allowing Tarian to gather himself.

Tarian held his hands to the fire, the scars from the missing fingers on his left hand white with cold. His voice choked with emotion when he spoke. “I followed Aethan half a league to the north, to a crevasse plunging to the river far below. I called to him and he paused, but then stepped over… He made no sound as he fell…” Tarian swallowed convulsively. “I climbed down to him, but he had broken on the boulders at the water’s edge. Dead when I finally reached him…”

Tarian’s voice trailed off in remembered horror, and Ravan put an arm around him, pulling him against her when he broke down, and he sobbed quietly on her shoulder. Luka exchanged a look of compassion with Rhys, grieving hard for the tragic loss of yet another life. He sighed, then drew a deep breath, resolving to bring matters to an end the only way he knew how.