In the Darkness

In the Darkness

Charles Edward

www.loose-id.com

In the Darkness Copyright © August 2011 by Charles Edward All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions. eISBN 978-1-61118-452-5 Editor: Venessa Giunta Cover Artist: Valerie Tibbs Printed in the United States of America

Published by Loose Id LLC PO Box 425960 San Francisco CA 94142-5960 www.loose-id.com This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Dedication To Daryl, for everything To Becky, for friendship

Acknowledgement I owe a debt of gratitude to Bob Davis, who gave me the glimmer of a character idea, which led me to ask the questions answered in this story. I’m grateful to my editor, Venessa Giunta (www.venessagiunta.com), for her guidance, patience, and the things I have learned from her. This book would not exist without the encouragement of my beta readers (in order by draft): Becky Spain-Kaiser Krista Robinson-Lawlor Jade Archer (www.jadearcher.com) A. B. Gayle (www.abgayle.com) Roger Kean (recklessbooks.co.uk) My models for “how to write naughty” in this book were Brandon Fox and Amanda Young. Several critique partners provided guidance on portions of the manuscript: L.C. Chase, William Cooper, Casey Cox, Lissa Kasey, Evie Kiels, Piper Vaughn, and Xara X. Xanakis. I am grateful for the advice and support received from authors and readers on Goodreads.com: The On Fiction Writing Group: especially Anna from Alaska for help with the bear. The M/M Romance Group and authors I “met” there: moderators Lori, Jason, and Jen; everyone who participates in the discussion threads; Heidi Cullinan for teaching me how to write a blurb; Jordan Castillo Price for her fantastic eroticawriting podcast and book recommendations; and Josh Lanyon for Man, Oh Man: Writing M/M Fiction for Cash and Kinks.

Chapter One The ghost watched the boys’ campsite from a discreet distance. They had set their tent in a place they should not be, and for that he was truly pleased. They were young men from the nearby village. Maybe they didn’t know they trespassed, or maybe they didn’t care. Either way, the ghost could watch them more closely than ever. He had learned to be a ghost when he was very much smaller, when his parents first let him go out to do chores alone in the darkness that would conceal him. He worked out how to do his jobs quickly so there would often be time to go near the village, to learn about the people who lived there. But, always cautious, he remained far enough away that they wouldn’t see his eyes upon them. The three who trespassed tonight were the most interesting of the villagers, youths older than his own eighteen summers. Often they did things he understood, like having practice battles in the field, hunting, or fishing in the river in the early morning. Sometimes, like all villagers, they did things he didn’t understand at all. By now he knew their names: Tyber, Evin, and Johan. He had seen them many times in the evening or early morning, unloading crates and barrels from barges that came downriver, or searching in the woods for plants. They and others did these tasks at the direction of an old woman. What did they do with all that stuff? Whatever it was, they did it during the day when he couldn’t watch, so he had never managed to find out. Yet. He had come to observe them at nightfall, and as the protective darkness deepened, he crept yet closer to their riverside camp. They danced around a fire, waving swords and axes, boasting to one another about how many boggarts or demons from the underworld they might kill to protect their village. Arms and tongues soon tired of that game. They dropped their weapons, shed their clothing, and went to wash in the river. While bathing, they laughed and shouted and flung water at one another. Their laughter made the ghost happy, but it also made him hurt because he couldn’t join them. He liked to play in the water too, but of course he had to do it alone. It was strange—exciting but somehow embarrassing—to see them cavorting naked and unashamed. He couldn’t imagine doing such things, but he understood why they could be so carefree: they were normal. They didn’t have his filthy, cursed skin.

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After bathing, they did one of the things he didn’t understand. They carried their clothing into the tent and closed themselves inside. For a long while, they made noises like they were hurting each other—except that one or another would giggle sometimes. Tyber gave orders and they called Evin ugly names, and sometimes there were moans like his mother made one time when she was very sick. Eventually they settled down and slept. The ghost decided they were probably okay, so he went off to do his chores. Morning threatened when he returned to wait for them to awaken. The ghost himself should not be here in the day, but he wanted to see them come out of their tent. He wanted to know how they would behave today and if they were all well after the strangeness of the night. He glanced up at the sky, trying to judge the growing light and determine how much longer he could stay and still be able to leave unseen. He was being stupid and he would be in trouble when he got home, but he didn’t want to go yet. Evin emerged first, still naked, into the cool morning air. He yawned, stretched, and walked over to the river to relieve himself by pissing into the moving water. The ghost was close enough to smell it. Faint morning light gave Evin’s light brown hair a coppery sheen. An almost invisible down covered his entire body. He wasn’t hairy, like Tyber was in places, or furry like an animal. Just fuzzy. Still pissing, he started to wave his cock around, making the stream arc and loop in the air. And he laughed. The sound of it touched the ghost deep inside somehow, making him feel tight and very happy for no reason. But then his own cock began to get stiff, like it did sometimes after sleeping, and the feeling crept on that he was doing something wrong, stealing something by watching this private moment. He would have been ashamed to be seen that way, after all. Evin certainly seemed none the worse after last night. That was good. Slowly, taking care not to be noticed, the ghost slipped away and headed up the mountain toward home.

*** It was getting a little too light outside, but the ghost was sure he had not been seen or followed on the way home to his parents’ cabin. The rough house stood in an area of thick forest high up on the mountain. The cabin’s front door opened onto a path that eventually led down to the village. He had never used that door or path. He always entered by the back door, which opened onto trails around the mountain where Father placed his game traps. Here in the back, no outsider would ever see him approach his home. As he reached the door, it was ripped open from within by his father.

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“Gareth, get in here now!” Father clawed at Gareth’s shoulder, gripping it as if it were a stone he might use for murder, and tried to drag Gareth into the cabin. “Get in! Are you trying to drive us mad, boy?” Gareth didn’t protest as he was urged inside and Father slammed the door behind them. As usual when returning home at dawn, something warm snuffed out inside of him when the door closed on the morning’s light. Farther into the room, Gareth lifted aside an armoire that stood over the cabin’s cellar door—a trapdoor covering the mouth of a pit. Gareth or his parents always lifted the armoire to move it. It would never be dragged to leave telltale marks on the floor. Mother sat knitting in a rough-hewn chair. At first she just glared at him, but as he revealed and then lifted the door, poised to leap down, she did not restrain her anger. “The queen’s agents will be here today. They could come at any moment, you little piss-eyed fool! Were you trying to get yourself killed?” He replied in a low voice. “You’d be better off then. Rid of me.” A shadow of fear flickered across her face, one he had seen many times before. Though he was a terrible burden to them, his parents were terrified for Gareth— and for themselves, if he was found in their care. Before Mother could make a reply, Father shoved him hard in the back and he had to jump down into the cellar in order not to fall. Now alone, he lay down on his bed of burlap and straw, pulled his boots off, and tossed them aside. Gareth’s parents expected the tithe collector today, and because of the official visit, he might have to wait for hours in the cellar, even longer than he usually slept during the day. The cellar door closed with a slam that jiggled the knotted rope he would use to climb out later. A soft thump followed as his parents put the armoire back in place. Then the floorboards creaked and groaned as they went back to their work above and awaited the arrival of one of the few visitors they could not refuse. He could picture them, talking nervously to one another as Mother continued to knit and Father repaired one of his animal traps or cages. Gareth thought of himself as a ghost because he was good at spying on the villagers in the valley below and because he wished he could go unnoticed and unpunished at home. But he was all too real and solid. He couldn’t float invisibly up through the floor and go to the village to see more of the people and their homes. He could only wait for nightfall. Gareth rolled onto his stomach and fumbled beneath the bedding. He gathered a group of thumb-sized figures he had woven from the bed’s straw and stood them up around one another to make a little scene. There were several: The hunched figure of the old woman with her cane and a little piece of straw sticking straight out to represent her bony nose. Tyber, the tall one, who ordered the others around and sometimes picked on them. Johan, with

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dark red hair that Gareth had painted using a bit of blood from a skinned animal. Marc, the smallest, with a tiny scar also painted in blood on his face. And Evin. Gareth had used some of the lightest brown straw to represent Evin’s hair. He couldn’t get it to lie down right and there was more of it than Evin really had, but he was not unhappy with his work. He ran a finger over it, imagining how Evin’s hair must blaze in the daylight and wishing he could see it. When all the figures were arranged, he wiggled the old woman so that she gave orders to the boys. They struggled to carry cumbersome, invisible crates for her until Marc stumbled. “Kshhh!” Gareth made the sound of fragile somethings breaking in the crate. No, Marc! You’re doing it wrong! You’re stupid! Look what you done! cried Tyber. Gareth tweaked the tall stick figure between a thumb and forefinger so that it twisted and its arm slapped little Marc. Waaaaah! Wah, wah, wah! Tyber said. Don’t hurt him no more! Evin said. Tyber laughed. He’s just being a baby! Gareth brought a new figure into the play, one that was larger than any of the others. It’s Gareth! said Johan. Yay! said Evin. Marc ran to hide behind Gareth. Stop! said the figure of Gareth, who looked just like the others so they wouldn’t be scared. Don’t hurt him no more! You’re not the leader! Who’s gonna be our leader, then? said Marc. Evin will! Gareth said. He’s nice to everyone! Yayyyyy! everyone shouted. Okay! Evin said. I’m the leader! But what do I want to do? Let’s go play in the river! Gareth said. Yayyyyy! everyone shouted. “Spshh! Spshh!” Gareth made the happy sounds of young men splashing and wrestling in the water. They all had adventures together at the river until Gareth’s yawns and droopy eyelids made everyone too tired and they all curled up in a heap on the bed’s burlap shore.

*** Vibrations rumbled through the cellar walls and interrupted Gareth’s dreams. Horses approached and stopped somewhere outside the cabin. Footsteps thumped on creaking floorboards. A door opened, and voices exchanged muffled words as his parents received their guests.

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Gareth remained quiet and still, though he was deep enough underground that it could hardly matter. His hiding place was good. Father always complained that the queen’s taxes kept everyone poor, but he was sure to keep perfect records and pay every coin. He would never give the queen’s men a reason to wonder if there were places on his property where goods or money might be hidden. After the rumble of horses signaled to Gareth that the men were gone, he slept again until evening. He was next awakened by the light bump of the armoire being set aside and the crash as Father threw open the trapdoor—his signal that Gareth could come up to dinner. When he climbed into the main room, Father was already eating at the table. Mother glanced at him, then dished stew onto a rough wooden platter. Without speaking, she placed it on the table as Gareth sat. Before Gareth could pick up his spoon, Father asked, “Didn’t get your fill of rats in the cellar, eh?” “No, sir.” “That was too close today, boy. You took too long making the rounds.” Gareth thought it hadn’t been close at all. But he wouldn’t argue or make excuses or do anything to draw attention to the question of why he’d stayed out so long. If his parents ever suspected he spied on the villagers, they wouldn’t trust him with his chores and he’d never get to go out by himself. So he said, “Yes, sir,” in a hushed, respectful tone. Head down. “We’ve moved out this far to keep you hid. You can’t risk it like you did today.” “No, sir.” “You know you can’t risk it, don’t you, boy?” “Yes, sir.” “And why is that? Why can’t you risk it, eh?” Gareth’s face ignited. He kept his eyes on his platter and remained still, wishing he wouldn’t have to answer. Not again. “Why? Why, can’t you risk it? Answer me.” “Because.” “Answer!” “Because I’m a monster!” He clamped his mouth shut tight and tried to keep it from quivering. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t. With a grimace of disgust, Father grabbed his hand and jerked it up to hold it in front of Gareth’s wet eyes, so that the horrible, sickening green of it filled his vision. When Gareth closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at himself, Father made a fist around the unresisting hand and smashed it into Gareth’s face. “You have got ta be careful. You can’t never be seen by nobody.”

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Father released Gareth’s hand. Gareth dropped it to his lap and struggled to keep himself calm. A couple of tears escaped to run down his nose, but he didn’t compound his humiliation by weeping. He snorted the wetness up when it irritated him and glanced up quickly to see Father still glaring at him. “Is that snot, or just you?” Father stood up, scraping his chair back from the table, and walked away with his food as if he could no longer bear to sit so close. Gareth took a deep breath to push all the hurt down, away from the tight throat and leaky eyes threatening to betray him. He wouldn’t be a baby. He swiped an arm across his face to dry it, then spared a guilty glance at Mother, who snapped, “Eat!” His supper was a greasy stew of deer meat, gone too soon. There was never enough. After finishing the meal in silence, he prepared to take the bath he had missed this morning. He went to the fireplace and, being careful not to burn himself, poured some of the hot water from the kettle into a large copper tub standing nearby. A block of the soap his mother made from animal fat rested on a shelf within easy reach, so he only needed to drape a rag over the side of the tub to be ready to bathe. He looked around to be sure that his parents had averted their eyes—they didn’t want to endure the sight of him as he cleaned himself—and stripped off his clothing. Then he stood in the tub to wash. As long as he didn’t look down at himself, it felt good to wash away last night’s dirt and today’s tension. It tickled a bit when he scrubbed his cock, which tried to embarrass him by stiffening. Lately that happened far too often. He moved on to other parts of his body, made himself very clean, and enjoyed the water’s warmth as much as he could without wasting time. He didn’t want to inconvenience his parents further. Once dressed in clean breeches and chemise, he was ready to go out, but his parents made him wait until well after dark to leave the house. Finally they did let him go, and he went straightaway to the campsite to check on the trespassers. There had been no mention of the trespassers at dinner. He was sure Father hadn’t found them today. The tithe collector’s visit would have kept Father close to the cabin, if indeed he had gone outside at all. As Gareth filtered through the woods toward the camp, hope and nervousness warred within him. Yes, he had been late and in trouble this morning when he fled the boys’ camp; but in truth, he had run away as much because of the happiness, tightness, and shame that overcame him when he saw Evin naked and joyful. What a baby, to run away from seeing a villager piss! But something was different this time. With Evin, it was different. Gareth didn’t know what he might see tonight, but he couldn’t keep from smiling as he imagined the possibility of seeing Evin happy again. Of being close enough to hear Evin’s laughter. Of sharing Evin’s carefree joy, just for another moment.

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This time he wouldn’t flee. He traveled silently through the forest without slowing down but remained alert in case Evin or any of the others were nearby in the woods. They were his friends, as close as any friend would ever be, but they could never know or see him. At the tree line, he paused to look out before stepping into the open, searching for any potential observers. But there were none. The boys’ camp by the river was gone. They had returned to the village.

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Chapter Two The next evening, the thump of the trapdoor woke Gareth as usual. He didn’t realize anything was amiss as he pulled off his nightshirt and dressed, but when he climbed up into the cabin, he found his father preparing a collection of traps to carry out. Father was going to work with him tonight. He wouldn’t get to see any villagers. Father handed Gareth a trap meant to catch a kenzul hound—one of the creatures whose fur would sell for a good sum—then loaded into it a couple of smaller traps meant for minks and raccoons. This work would be easy enough for Father to do during daylight hours, but it would be faster at night when Gareth could be there to help. Tonight they would walk together to various spots on the mountain to place traps and hopefully discover prey in some of the existing ones. It would be Gareth’s job to snap the neck of any captured creature, as it had been since his earliest memories. He hadn’t known what it meant to kill when he was that young, but he did know Father would be terribly angry if he accidentally tore or tried to eat the prey. In a way he felt guilty about trapping and killing the animals. It seemed somehow a dirty trick to end a creature’s life if you weren’t hungry and going to eat it. It was true that the carcasses sometimes put a bit of meat on the table and the money from selling their hides paid for the rest, so he killed without complaint, without ripping the tiny things in two, and without taking even a little bite. But he didn’t want to be cruel to the animals, and trapping was a cruel occupation at best, no matter how it might be justified or how merciful he might try to be. If the time ever arrived when he could stop hiding in his parents’ home, his days as a trapper would be over for good. Gareth and his father set out into the dark. They marched in silence through woods leading around the mountain. Father carried a lantern, hooded so light would shine in a beam ahead of them yet Gareth would remain hidden in the night. At lower elevations, they set small traps along game trails and near sources of water. Most of the traps were like little coops that would close up on small animals. Others were more cruel, with metal jaws to catch an animal’s leg. Higher up on the mountain were the traps Gareth liked least of all: deadfall traps meant to crush the heads or spines of bears by dropping heavy logs on them. Gareth and his father usually took just a few bears each season, but the thought of killing the mighty creatures in such a cowardly way made him unhappy.

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The thing they had to be most careful about was scent. If they carried or mounted a trap using their bare hands, animals would detect their personal odors and be sure to stay away. Therefore, they wore gloves and smeared traps with animal fat to mask other smells. Ashes and certain kinds of dung were useful for covering up anything else they might touch in a spot where they hoped to catch prey. On the other hand, some scents were good. They often mounted a chicken head covered in oil on the end of a stick and used it to brush the ground in various directions leading to a trap. Then they hung the head inside as bait. After collecting a few animals and resetting some snares, they found that a kenzul trap was missing from the place it had been just last night. The trap consisted of a set of metal jaws chained to a heavy log, called a drag, which would slow down any kenzul with the strength to move it but would not resist enough that the animal might tear its leg free to escape. The trap had evidently caught a kenzul able to pull the drag for some distance before tiring, but it left a trail of broken vegetation Gareth and his father could follow. Gareth put down the cages he carried and helped his father search. After only a few minutes of pursuit, they were close enough to hear the animal thrashing about, trying to free itself from the trap. It had not got far, both because of the weight of the drag and because it had changed direction several times as it tried to escape the metal jaws. Crack! Such a loud noise from the direction of the struggling creature startled Gareth. Vegetation rustled as something tumbled through it. A series of receding, muffled thumps ended with a heavy impact. Gareth and his father came to an area where their path dropped off an embankment into thick undergrowth. Plants were broken or crushed where the kenzul had fallen off the path and pulled the drag along behind. Father picked his way down first, but something was wrong. Gareth remained on the trail, turning this way and that, sniffing. It wasn’t right. It smelled— Something tore through the forest behind him, hidden by the vegetation but coming on fast. Something big. “Father!” Gareth leaped down the embankment. He caught up with his father just as the other man reached their quarry. Gareth saw and understood instantly. Not a kenzul, but a bear cub. It lay unconscious or dead from falling down the hill and having the drag land on it. The beam of Father’s lantern was just touching its body when something else came crashing down the hill: its mother. Gareth had made a terrible mistake. He had hoped to reach Father, push him to the ground, and protect him, but everything was happening too fast. By running, Gareth had only led the danger to him. A brown bear, looming larger than Gareth thought possible, exploded from the vegetation. It kept its head low, its face a mask of rage as it knocked Father aside and barreled into Gareth.

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Gareth threw an arm up to protect his face. The bear’s jaws closed over his elbow, and the world turned over. As he hit the ground, a snap, more felt than heard, traveled through him. Crushing weight pressed him down. Claws tore into his belly as he struggled to get free so he could fight back. The bear began to worry his body, shaking him by the arm locked in her jaws, and all he could do was thrash. The meat of his upper arm gave way, tore open in a spray of blood. No no no! The bear’s weight smothered his screams. She pulled at his arm, tearing it like cloth until it ripped away. The ragged stump jetted blood over both of them. She let the arm fall and lowered her dripping jaws toward his throat. A sword flashed, cutting into the bear and rising away in a new spray of blood. The bear shuddered, turned, and stepped away from him. He could breathe! Father shouted at him, words he couldn’t make out as he gasped for air and tried to get off the ground. He had to get up, protect his father. He rolled to get purchase with his remaining hand. The bear roared, threatening Father, who seemed small as a child before her. With one hand, he held his sword up; with the other, he shone the lantern’s beam into her eyes as if to confuse her and keep her at bay. Gareth struggled to stand up, fighting to do what he must despite all the torn places in his body. The combat was only a few paces away, but as he tried to run, he lost his balance and fell again, jarring the stub of his right arm. Molten agony poured into him from that wound and from shredded places all over his body. This time he had the breath to scream. His mind went white from the pain, but still something inside shrieked at him: Get up! Get up! Gareth got unsteadily to his feet as the bear took a swipe at Father and knocked the sword away. Can’t run right. He jumped, covering the remaining distance all at once, intending to grab and distract the bear. He managed to get a handful of her fur and flesh but lost his grip when his hand tore through and ripped her side open. The bear turned on him, bellowing and lashing out. Gareth leaped back. He saw that his left hand had changed. Instead of their normal, blunt-square shape, his fingers were long, wickedly tapered, sharp—and wet with the bear’s blood. They had sliced clean through both his glove and the animal’s flesh. I am a monster. The bear roared again and closed in enough that her hot, spittle-flecked breath washed over Gareth. He slashed at her, cutting deep into a foreleg. Rampant, she stood twice his size. She crowded him, swiping at him with her claws. They struck at one another several times, but he kept having to stumble back to avoid her onslaught. The bear stopped advancing on him to stay close to her cub. She and Gareth eyed each other warily as his wounded arm drained his blood, his life and strength,

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to the forest floor. She still threatened him but didn’t sweep in to attack. She had to guard the cub. It was over, if only Father would get away before Gareth fell. As he fought his own body just to get breath and stay on his feet, Gareth willed his father to sneak away, and willed himself to live just long enough. Slowly, Father! Don’t let her see! In that moment, while Gareth and the bear faced one another down, he was unable to resist covering the stump of his arm. His palm touched severed flesh and the splintered tip of cracked bone. Redoubled pain seared him, and he cried out. Blood wet his palm, washed over his hand. The edges of his vision went gray and closed in until he couldn’t see at all. He was falling. His knees hit the ground. The impact jarred him back into the moment and cleared his vision enough to see the bear lunge. Gaping jaws and fangs filled his sight, and he knew he had lost. Die now, he thought. Himself or the bear, he didn’t know which. With the last of his strength, he jammed his left hand into the onrushing maw. The animal’s weight and momentum carried her forward even after his claw tore through her skull.

*** Gareth came to his senses in agony from both arms now. The bear’s body held him pinned once more. He kicked and struggled to free himself; then Father was there, pulling the dead weight away. When Gareth finally got free, he lay looking up at the trees and taking ragged gulps of air. It hurt too much to move. Father knelt over him, playing the lantern’s beam over his body, examining the wounds, saying something, but Gareth still couldn’t concentrate enough to hear above the torment of his injuries and the pounding of his heart. I am a monster. He closed his eyes. Die now. Father grasped his left hand and— “Aaaaaaaaah!” Pieces of bone ground together, shattering his senses again. He recovered, gasping for breath and unable to understand why Father would hurt him so. He stared in bewilderment. “You broke your arm. Had to set the bone.” Father was still breathing heavily. He used the back of his gloved hand to wipe sweat from his face, unaware of the streak of blood it left behind. “I’m not dying?” “Well, your arm’s not bleeding anymore. You’re a right mess, but if you’re not dead yet…” He shrugged and pulled the gloves off. Gareth looked at the torn place where his right arm should have been and saw that the bleeding had indeed stopped. The bone that had been splintered when he touched it still protruded from raw meat, but it was now smooth. “What’s happening?”

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Father’s fingers brushed the skin of his thigh. “Your clothes are torn, but the blood just wipes off. Can’t find no wounds.” Father pulled up the shreds of Gareth’s chemise and ran a hand over his belly. “Nothing!” Gareth raised his head to look down at himself. “No, she clawed me all over! I felt it.” But when he touched himself on the stomach and leg, he could find none of the deep gouges he expected. No gashes or scratches or scrapes. He realized Father was staring at his hand, and he remembered the claw. But when he brought the hand to his face, he saw that the fingers were normal again, not the great, thornlike talons they had been while he was fighting. His hand was coated with blood and slime, but it was his hand once again. He looked at Father in confusion. “Don’t that hurt?” Father asked. “No, my fingers are…like always.” “I’m talking about your broke arm.” “Oh!” Gareth rested his head back on the ground and lifted his left arm over his face to look at it. It seemed perfectly normal. He shook it like a bird flapping its wing. Solid. “Well, if that arm works, let’s do something with these bears. You can’t lie around all night.” Father left the lantern on the ground for a moment and began putting his gloves on even as he stood. As if he had already forgotten Gareth’s suffering. Gareth opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. What was there to say? Is he crazy? Am I? How could Father pretend nothing strange was happening? He used his remaining arm to lever himself up and stood. The pain had gone, leaving not so much as an ache in its place. Except for his lost right arm, all the torn places were whole again. Gareth’s clothes were ruined— Mother would be furious—but he felt normal as long as he didn’t touch the exposed meat of the severed arm. He and most of the surrounding vegetation were slick with blood. Most of it had come from his own body. That should have been frightening, but it was the least terrible of all he had seen and done in the past few moments. An arm, all saints, his arm, lay dead on the forest floor. Seeing it made him sick in his stomach. How would he do his work now or even climb out of the cellar? What use was he now? Father shone the lamp into his eyes, making him squint. “Are you coming?” Gareth took a few tentative steps. His legs worked normally again, but because of the missing arm, he had to move deliberately in order to keep his balance. He helped his father work for a little while in silence and tried not to worry. When next he looked at the stub of his missing arm, he saw that the wound was covered with fresh, green skin, from which protruded five rubbery little nubs.

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Seeing them gave him hope. A crazy, stupid hope that proved to be true. Long before they reached home that night, the arm had grown back.

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Chapter Three Evin was pleased by the day’s progress. He’d been asked to collect a particular fungus that grew on the soggy trunks of fallen trees. Today was a perfect day of the season for finding it. He would be returning early with more good specimens than Madame Tabeau, the village apothecary and his master, perhaps expected. Picking fungi was a tedious task, so his mind often wandered. The thought of Madame Tabeau’s wizened face brightening with pleasure when she saw today’s harvest had barely faded from his mind before his thoughts returned to a lewd memory he had been enjoying in the few days since his last “hunting trip” with some friends. The outing had actually been fun, a rare thing these days. Tyber had almost been kind, because he wanted Evin to cooperate in learning a new way to serve him and Johan at the same time. And the new trick had felt glorious, the way Evin held them both inside. Maybe it made him look forward, at least a little, to the next time. It was easier when Tyber only brought one friend to share him with. More than that and the others would sometimes compete to see who could best debase him. Serving several in one night could be unpleasant. And the things they required of him could be very unpleasant if someone decided not to wash properly. Because of its proximity to water, the riverside campsite they had chosen was an excellent place for their revels. He hoped they would return to it. Evin realized that once again he was reminiscing instead of working. It was nice to have a good memory every once in a while, but he needed to stop indulging it. He should finish up and get back to the shop. He picked the last few shelves of fungus from the tree he was working on, placed them into his sack, and started back to the village. His village was called Laforet. It had started long ago as a small, palisaded fort and had grown to boast several cabins and work buildings all constructed with the thick trunks of oak that grew in the region. The village’s major buildings—aside from the mayor’s cabin—were a wood mill, a workshop, and the fort that served mostly as a warehouse. Tyber’s father, the mayor, said Laforet was well-known for the fine furniture the villagers produced. The mill and workshop were occasional trysting spots for Tyber, his friends, and Evin, because they stood dark and empty at night. The villagers zealously protected the warehouse, where they stored all the valuable, finished pieces, but the mill and workshop were patrolled by a single guard. These days, they were guarded by Nicolas, one of Tyber’s friends. Tyber simply traded Evin’s favors for access.

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Evin entered town. In front of the mayor’s cabin, a group of men talked excitedly to an unfamiliar horseman. Tyber stood with them, taking an animated part in the discussion. He didn’t spare a glance as Evin walked by. Evin always grew uncomfortable when unexpected strangers arrived, so he was curious to know the man’s business. But he knew from experience that Tyber wouldn’t like it if he tried to join the group. Johan also sometimes worked at the apothecary shop. Evin found him there and asked what was happening. “Where have you been? The news is all over town already!” “Working, of course.” Evin hefted his bag of fungus onto a high worktable. “I’ve been in the woods. Now tell me.” “Well…it’s bad news for the Josselins,” Johan said with relish. “Madame Josselin’s sister lived in Daubrec, right?” That was another village roughly a day’s travel from Laforet. Evin nodded. “Well, the Josselins haven’t heard from the sister for a while, and it turned out that no news was coming from Daubrec at all. Nobody lives there anymore!” “Everyone left?” “No. The queen sent Cydrich, the demon hunter, to find out why messengers sent to Daubrec never returned…and guess what he found!” “Surely not a demon!” Evin imitated Johan’s breathlessness. “Yes! It killed everyone in the town. And the messengers and animals too. Maybe fifty people before Cydrich destroyed it.” A demon! Not even an ordinary creature from the underworld. This was sad news for the Josselins, of course, but no wonder Tyber and the men were excited. The men of Laforet liked blood-soaked tales as much as anyone. Demons featured in many ancient legends and superstitions, but it seemed they were visiting the world of men far too often these days. The sorceler, Cydrich, had become famous throughout the kingdom for his work eradicating them. Years ago, after Cydrich had discovered and slain a few, the queen honored him with the title of demon hunter and a reward. He worked directly for her now, researching, tracking down, and destroying demons. And he’d found one only a day’s ride away! Oh yes, exciting news for the men of Laforet. Evin had no doubt that Tyber’s excitement would express itself in more ways than one. Perhaps he could expect another of Tyber’s hunting trips soon. He just hoped it would be fun for him again like last time.

*** For a few days after the fight with the bear, Gareth moped through his chores. At times when he might have gone near the village to see if he could find Evin or one of the others doing something interesting, he went instead to a place high on the mountain where he could sit looking at the stars, pondering his fate and condition.

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Many times he had heard the story of the disaster of his birth. Whenever she was angry, Mother reminded him of how his family fled into hiding to protect him— the boy who had grown to be such an ungrateful, disobedient, and troublesome son. Father had found this place where they could have peace for a time. A mountainous patch of land that didn’t interest the local people because the trees they used to build things didn’t grow well on it. Father won the right to trap here, and until the local lord or mayor took an interest in the mountain, they would be safe. He knew the story by heart and never questioned it. Yet in the battle, he had seen impossible things. His hand, transformed into a monstrous claw. His arm, regrown just minutes after the bear tore it off. After seeing these terrible things, hope weakened and pulled further away from his grasp. What if he really was a monster and nothing more? What if he wasn’t a person? Days passed, but life never changed. Every night there were rounds to make and chores to do and his parents remained the same. Nobody talked about the bear or the impossible things Gareth had done. After a while, he found he had brooded all he could. He had suffered every morose and lonely thought until they came no more and his mind turned back to…well, to Evin. He imagined things that could never come true. Sitting with Evin to talk. In the daylight! Asking questions about the world outside. Laughing together. Usually Gareth hated having good dreams because those were the kind that hurt so bad to wake up from. But these waking fantasies were different. They were things that could never happen, yet they comforted him. He decided it was time to be a ghost again. Time to find Evin again to see that all was well.

*** At home the next morning, Gareth removed his clothing in preparation for his daily bath. Soon he stood naked in the tub, using the rag to clean himself and squeeze out rivulets of warm water to soothe his skin. He closed his eyes and scrubbed, letting tension ebb and allowing his mind to wander to good thoughts about Evin. He tried to relive that moment when he had seen the predawn light touch Evin’s hair and heard Evin’s laughter. The sound was light and delicate, but somehow its vibrations went right through Gareth, making his nerves quiver like the string of a plucked bow. And as he thought of the sound, his body reacted to it again. Remembered laughter settled into his gut with a tight, tickling hum that was pleasant but strangely urgent. Gareth’s awareness snapped back to the present, where he found that his cock had become straight and hard again. He had been idly tickling himself as he dreamed of Evin’s happiness, and he found himself enjoying the sensation of rubbing the hard stick. Oh no! Right in front of his parents. He stole a quick glance

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to be sure they weren’t watching—they were not—and while hiding the slowly wilting stiffness that was for some reason even more embarrassing than just being naked, he hastened to finish the bath and put on his nightshirt. Then he got down to the cellar as quickly as possible. Once there, he wanted to recreate the new, pleasurable feelings. He pulled the nightshirt off and pretended to take his bath again. Gareth brought the memory of Evin’s happiness back to mind as he stood beside the bed and began to rub his body with his hands. Some places were sensitive, especially between his legs. He concentrated on touching and stroking himself there. He rubbed lightly up the length of his cock, tickling it again. It hardened and grew until the tip, shaped like a mushroom cap, emerged from within its fold of skin. He traced its shape with his fingers. He found that rubbing across the edge of the cap gave him a strong, pleasant feeling, as much like an itch as a tickle—only more. Better. It raced down his legs all the way to his toes. He tightened a little bit on the tip, grinding the skin between his thumb and forefinger. Ohhh, that’s good! Good enough to make his toes curl up so that he didn’t want to remain standing. He lay down on his back, sprawling on the scrap of burlap covering his bed of straw. He bent his knees and spread his legs wide so he could touch himself with both hands. With his right, he reached down to grasp and finger his balls; with his left, he went back to stroking himself and kneading the tip of his cock. Ohhhhh. He used his thumb to file roughly along the edge of the cap again and gasped. As he raked his thumb across the flare, his legs twitched and wiggled. It was too much! So intense that he had to back off and touch himself more lightly. He didn’t feel the usual disgust as he looked down at the thing that gave him such unexpected pleasure. He took his hand away to really look at it for the first time. It pointed up toward the outside world and bobbed lightly in time with the pounding of his heart. It was two fingers wide at the base and got a little thicker toward the tip. A vein traced most of its length. Its skin was as smooth as the backs of his hands and just as soft, despite the hardness inside. The tip had rougherlooking skin, and it was this place that had generated such incredible sensation as he played with it. Gareth found it worked best to wrap his hand around it and stroke slowly up and down. His breath came in short gasps as he did this for a while and played with his balls and the skin containing them. He tried using his hand to point his cock, to rub the tip first against one thigh, then the other. The muscles in his stomach twitched, and the urgent good-itch feeling grew until he couldn’t control it. Need possessed him and made him go back to gripping himself like a club. He stroked up and down with determination. The skin of his cock crackled with ticklish lightning that shot through him, pleasures he could feel sometimes in his toes, backside, chest, teeth. He stroked the full length faster. It swelled thicker and harder, and his balls drew up.

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“Oh, oh, aaaah.” He arched, lifting his backside off the bed, straining to push his cock up or out or into something as he stroked faster, harder. “Oh! Mmmmmh!” Everything in his belly got tighter until he wondered why he didn’t burst, but then something did burst and a white liquid spurted out. His entire body bucked, and he fell back against the bed with gasping cries, “Hah! Hah! Hah!” as splash after splash of warm wetness landed on his face, chest, and belly. Hardness went away as his breathing slowed. The warmth, tightness, and good feeling that had spread through him also receded, and his muscles stopped twitching. The liquid remained, cooling on his skin, as evidence that he had done something wrong. The thick goo splattered on his skin was the same stuff he found sometimes after waking, in a wet stain on his nightshirt. A stain that disgusted his parents, like he’d pissed himself in his sleep. It wasn’t piss, but it was shameful—and now it wasn’t just one little spot. It was all over him. He could imagine the revolted looks on their faces. Is that snot or just you? Gareth lay still for a moment, consumed by guilt. Then he knew he needed to get rid of the weird, white snot so his parents could never see. He thought about wiping it off, but what if it started to stink? He couldn't go up to where they were in order to wash it off. But there was one way to hide it forever. He began scooping it into his mouth, trying to eat it all as fast as possible—without tasting it in case it was awful. When he was again as clean as he could make himself, he put the nightshirt on and curled up for sleep. Now that the stuff was gone forever, he felt better. He concentrated on the sensations of his body and found that although some muscles were a little sore between his legs, mostly his insides were warm and relaxed. He rolled onto his back again and looked up at the dirt of the ceiling. He was safe here. Nobody could know about what he had just done. He wouldn’t get into trouble. Probably not. He swabbed the back of his teeth with his tongue, tasting now the sweet and saltiness of the stuff he had just eaten and feeling its slight burn on his gums. The stuff actually tasted good. Maybe he’d touch himself that way again soon in order to get more.

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Chapter Four Gareth reached the top of the rope and stretched out a hand to grip the wooden floorboards at the mouth of his trapdoor. He was not enthusiastic about leaving the cellar tonight. Mother and Father had different eyes than his. Different noses. They couldn’t see or smell or hear as well as he could, but that wasn’t the problem. They were different. What if that white stuff left tracks that they could see but he couldn’t? What if they could see it on his mouth no matter how much he wiped it, or smell it on him as soon as he came into the room? What if they just knew he had done something wrong? After closing the trapdoor and putting the armoire back into place, Gareth tried to stay as far from his parents as possible without giving himself away. He made it to the table and sat, relieved when he could pull the chair in to shelter his lower body beneath the table. Now if he could just resist the urge to wipe at his mouth every few seconds. Mother slid a platter in front of him. Lumps of unidentifiable bits of meat and a boiled turnip sat there, steaming. Keeping his hand turned down, in case there were tracks to hide, Gareth reached for a bit of the meat and tasted it. Ooh, squirrel! He barely registered how quiet his parents were until he finished the platter of food, and then—strangest thing—Mother took it, dished out another serving, and laid it before him again. Before touching the food, he peered up at Mother. Saw her looking at him. Really looking, and he thought about tracks again and tried to shrink in his seat. But Father harrumphed, and Gareth sat a little straighter, steeling himself for a punishment. But why would they give him more food? Father said, “Gareth, we got something to talk about, son.” The expression on Mother’s face was…soft. Almost a smile. Was something good about to happen? “Yes, sir,” he said. Risking a glance, he saw that Father’s face was weird and soft too. “Did I mess up? What did I do?” “Oh no no.” Mother shook her head slowly and waved away his words. “This is good news, very good. You will be very pleased!” He looked at them, from one to the other.

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Mother said, “There’s something we don’t think we mentioned before, but…we have a relative. A very important man, who knows all about you—” “Stop shaking your head!” Father said. “Listen!” Mother glared briefly at Father, then continued. “He couldn’t come to see us before because he is so very important and we didn’t want to risk anyone noticing. But you’re all grown up now, and he wants to meet you.” “Why—Why for?” “Because you’re special! You saw for yourself when you killed the bear.” His gaze fell. Was it so special to be a monster? “He will come to visit soon, and when he does, we want you to do your best to show him the things your father taught you. Can you do that?” “You mean during the daytime?” “It won’t matter. You’ll show him how you can use your weapons and how strong you are. If he thinks you are capable, he may have a new job for you. Wouldn’t you like that?” This was all wrong. Why were they so strange? And what job could the important visitor have for him? But no, that’s not what mattered, not to them. Not the job. “Yes,” he said, knowing the answer was expected. But the truth hung in his mind like the afterimage of a lightning bolt. They’re getting rid of me. “Good!” She reached out, and Gareth suppressed the urge to flinch. She patted his hand. “Now finish your supper and get to your chores.” Gareth was always hungry, but he found that today he had no more appetite.

*** Gareth was too close to the village. He knew well that he should not be there, but after brooding alone for so many nights, his desire to see Evin had become irresistible. He would have to be alert and ready to flee at any moment, but he could no longer stay away. He knew of a good place to look for Evin and his friends. From afar he had sometimes seen them go into one of the work buildings at the outer edge of the village, near the low stone wall. Gareth stayed down, crouching behind the moss-covered wall, and circled outside it to approach the buildings. He had first come here two nights ago, the night his parents had been weird. Each time, he waited until it was late to see if Evin appeared. Gareth couldn’t remain until morning—he needed to leave early enough to get his work done in a rush—but stayed as long as he dared. He would be here every night if necessary. Tonight his patience was rewarded. Evin and Tyber whispered to one another as they walked around the yard behind the building where logs were cut up during the day. They arrived and

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greeted their friend who watched over the work buildings at night. The three of them went inside. With no one else to watch outside, it was safe for Gareth to slip over the wall and creep closer. The side of the building that faced away from the village was also hidden in shadow from the moonlight. He went to a window there. If he kept low and still and remembered to squint, maybe he would remain unnoticed as he watched the three. Gareth had heard the things Evin and the others did together in the places they gathered at night, but caution always prevented him from sneaking up to peer in at them. What he saw through the window tonight was stranger than anything he could have imagined. The three of them were pressed together. Evin stood against Tyber. They were touching mouths, the way village girls and boys sometimes did at festivals, like they did when they liked each other. But this seemed angrier, like they were both trying to eat the same bite of food. Or like they were hurting each other. The third man, the watchman, stood behind, rubbing his hips against Evin’s backside, pushing Evin into Tyber. Evin didn’t cry out but continued to struggle with Tyber. Tyber pulled away, stepped back, and put his hands beneath Evin’s chemise. Evin raised his arms and allowed Tyber to pull off the clothing and throw it aside. Tyber seized Evin’s shoulders and turned him around, then pressed down until Evin was on his knees. The watchman wore a tunic, which he lifted, and Tyber pushed Evin forward, putting his face between the other man’s legs. What was this? Why didn’t Evin fight back? Then they turned so that Gareth could see the stiff tube of the watchman’s cock sink into Evin’s mouth. All saints, Evin was using his mouth to make the man feel good. Tyber had a hand in Evin’s hair, pushing and pulling on his head, guiding him to please the grunting man. “Mmmm, yeah, take it all down, dog! Swallow it deep,” Tyber said. Evin developed a rhythm bobbing up and down on the watchman’s cock. Tyber sank to his knees, letting his hands slip down Evin’s neck and back. The watchman moaned, and Tyber yanked Evin’s breeches down to expose Evin’s backside. Gareth had become stiff enough to make his breeches suddenly tight and uncomfortable. Tyber put his hands around Evin’s hips, pulled him back, and then shoved him forward again. He was using Evin’s whole body to stroke his mouth on the watchman’s cock, and Evin helped by holding his neck rigid. After a few strokes, Tyber let go and reached around to stick his fingers into Evin’s mouth alongside the watchman’s cock. Evin continued to work his mouth for a bit; then Tyber pulled wet fingers back out and reached down to press them into Evin’s rear end. Evin threw back his head, closed his eyes tight, and said, “Oh!” in a voice that made Gareth’s insides tremble. He likes it.

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They were across the workshop from his window, but Gareth could smell the overpowering musk of their spit-slicked skin. The scent made Gareth’s cock so hard it ached. Tyber worked his fingers into Evin as if he were angry, saying, “Yeah, take it, take it.” And Evin just groaned and continued to lick and swallow the watchman. Gareth looked around to make sure nobody else was wandering around to catch him. He loosened his breeches and shifted his cock up to poke him in the stomach. He began to caress it, wanting to make himself feel the good feelings Evin gave so eagerly to the watchman. Now that he had seen this, he longed for Evin to touch him in just that way. But because it could never be, Gareth took what he could from seeing Evin do nice things for the other man. The watchman grabbed Evin’s head and pulled, shoving himself deep into Evin’s mouth, then began to move his hips. Evin was powerless, caught between Tyber—who now stroked himself openly while still being nasty with Evin’s backside—and the watchman ramming into Evin’s throat. The sounds they uttered, oohing and aahing and groaning, made everything more intense, and Gareth knew he would make the white stuff again. The watchman jerked back, pulled out of Evin’s mouth, and held himself as if to piss, but what spat out in splashes onto Evin’s face was that same stuff! I’m normal. And as he thought this, Gareth clamped shut his eyes and mouth, trying to remain silent while his body shook and his own stuff came out, up under his chemise, shooting out many times until it ran all over his belly and down his breeches. With his eyes closed, Gareth almost failed to see it. Just as he looked on again, the watchman hit Evin, a loud slap that made drops of the stuff on Evin’s face splatter and fly. No! He was so nice to you! And Evin was angry as well—rising from the floor, fist clenched. This was going bad, and Gareth couldn’t understand why. He couldn’t help. Tyber laughed. Before Evin could strike the watchman, Tyber grabbed his hips and dragged him back. Evin pushed ineffectually at the watchman, but he was pulled down, turned around, and his face pushed against Tyber’s swollen cock. Evin struggled a bit, but Tyber held on until Evin took it into his mouth. Gareth dropped from the window, disgusted and confused and all wet. He lifted his chemise away from where it stuck to his belly. Go wash now. He slunk back to the wall and over it, then headed toward the river. Soon there would be no sign of the mess he had made. But everything is a mess. Until a few days ago, his life had been an unbroken line of days, each nearly identical to the last. Wake up, eat without calling down his parents’ wrath, work for Father in the darkness where no one could see him, be a ghost spying on the villagers, go home to bathe and sleep. Now everything was changing and scary. The bear had shown him things he never wanted to know. His parents planned to send

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him away with a stranger who would probably despise him just as much. He might never get to see Evin again, but what did it matter? He didn’t understand Evin, who let people hurt him like that and would never truly be Gareth’s friend anyway. He stopped walking and looked back in the direction of the work buildings. He wanted to go back and make those men take their hands off of Evin. He wanted to make them sorry they’d ever touched Evin. He would too, except Evin never called for help or fought back. Maybe Evin wouldn’t want help. And he would certainly be afraid of Gareth. Gareth didn’t understand the things he’d just seen, not at all, and couldn’t ask anyone to explain. If he went back, if he made a mistake because he didn’t understand, it might cost his parents their lives. It took an effort to turn away again, but he went on to the river.

*** The next night, Gareth found Evin and Tyber in the building where villagers constructed wooden furniture. As he crept closer, he could hear them whispering urgently to one another. They were alone, so Gareth would have to be especially alert. If the watchman made his rounds tonight, he might come close enough to notice Gareth at the window. Gareth berated himself for being so foolish as to come here, especially after the disturbing things he had witnessed last night, but he found a shaded window and watched anyway. Evin and Tyber stood, pressing their mouths together, in a wash of moonlight near the middle of the workroom. Evin’s chemise lay crumpled at their feet. Tyber lifted Evin onto a worktable. He pulled his face away, then pressed it into Evin’s chest. His lips made gentle smacking sounds as he trailed down Evin’s body. He swirled his tongue in the navel and continued down until he was stopped by the breeches Evin wore. He looked up. “Let’s get these off,” Tyber said. “Leave ’em,” Evin said. He pulled Tyber’s face back up to his own and touched their mouths together again. Tyber pulled away. “What’s the problem? Take ’em off.” “Let’s do other stuff tonight, like using our hands. You hurt me last night, and I don’t want to—” “No! Shut up. You can’t tell me no.” Evin slid down from the table and pushed Tyber away. “I’m not telling you no. Just not tonight. You and Nicolas can’t treat me like a dog to beat.” “Why not? Isn’t that what you are? Now come here and bend over for your master. You know you want it.” Tyber groped for him. “I don’t want anything from you, bastard!” Evin wriggled free and turned away. He snatched his clothing from the floor and started toward the door.

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“Hey! Don’t you—” Tyber grabbed his arm and spun him back around. “Don’t you walk away. You know how this goes. You have to do as I say.” Tyber gripped Evin’s upper arms and shook him. “Fuck you! You may be able to treat the girl that way, but—” “Oh, you’re the girl, Evin. That’s your whole problem, innit? That’s why you have to obey me.” “I’m warning you, let me go.” Tyber laughed at him. “Not until you settle down. Here, I’ll give you something to shut you up.” Tyber tried to push Evin down to his knees, but this time Evin resisted. Before Tyber could force him down, he slammed his forehead into Tyber’s face. Tyber yelped, covered his nose with his hands. The scent of blood washed across the room to Gareth. Evin pointed a finger in Tyber’s face. “I may be your dog, but I can bite too.” Tyber drew a hand away and looked at a red smear on his fingers. “Yeah, I bet you can.” He lashed out with a kick to Evin’s thigh. Evin stumbled, fetching up against the worktable. Tools and bits of wood rattled. No! Stop! Sharp points pressed into Gareth’s palms. Evin balled his fist, but Tyber grabbed his elbow in both hands before he could get his balance and used it to swing him around. Evin’s weight increased his momentum. Tyber let go, throwing him down the aisle between the tables. Gareth’s heart pounded, deafening in his ears. Evin fell into a cabinet of shelves and came down hard on his rear end. Impact knocked the cabinet back and disturbed the items on it: boxes of nails, wooden implements, hand tools. A hammer teetered at the edge of the shelf. Don’t— It fell, cracking into the top of Evin’s head and striking his shoulder before hitting the floor. Evin’s mouth opened in a silent cry. He squeezed his eyes tight and raised his hands to his head, but ever so slowly, as if he couldn’t make them work. Without saying a word, Gareth urged Tyber: Help him! He’s hurt! Tyber went to Evin, but when he got there, he didn’t help. He pulled on Evin’s feet and dragged Evin out to the open floor. What are you…? Tyber pulled Evin to all fours. Blood dripped from Tyber’s nose onto Evin’s naked back. Evin tried to move away, but too weakly. His fingers slipped on the floor. Tyber said, “There, dog, I told you you’d do what I say.” He yanked Evin’s breeches down.

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All saints, no! Evin collapsed, one ear mashed to the floorboards. While fumbling with his own clothing, Tyber tried to hold Evin’s rear end up with one hand. Gareth’s feet hit the floor hard enough to rattle the entire room. He didn’t remember leaping through the window. He was aware only of Tyber whirling to see with wide eyes and a terrified gasp. Of Evin tipping over, slumping to the floor. Of his claws clenching and unclenching as he was tempted by the thought of sinking them deep into Tyber’s belly. They stared at one another for a long moment before Tyber broke the silence. “Demon…” Blood stained his teeth. Gareth leaned close, smelling the coppery tang and seeing reflections of his burning eyes grow to fill Tyber’s own. “Demon!” “Get out,” Gareth said, but Tyber was transfixed. “Get out!” He pushed past Tyber to get to Evin. He feared his claws might hurt Evin, but as he reached toward the frail body, his fingers shortened, softened, became blunt and familiar. He gathered Evin gently into his arms and grabbed the discarded clothing to cover him. “Demon!” Tyber said, finding a stronger voice and scrambling to his feet. Gareth leaped to the window and looked back at Tyber one last time. “Demon!” Tyber shouted. He turned and ran out the door into the night. “Help me! A demon! Help!” Gareth dropped out to the ground, carrying Evin’s limp form, and fled.

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Chapter Five Evin woke with a start. He had to get away! He had to escape from…from…who? He found himself lying on his back in a frigid, utterly dark place. His head hurt as if it had cracked open. He sat up, wanting to feel for a way to escape, but nausea overcame him. He leaned to one side and threw up. His eyes watered as he heaved. Dimly he realized that someone was helping him. As his retching settled down, a cold hand gently pressed on his shoulder and guided him to lie back. Someone cradled him and used a cloth to clean his face. “Where…? Can’t see.” “Shhh. It’s okay,” an unfamiliar voice said. “We’re in a cave where he can’t get you. You’re safe.” Evin tried to remember why he wanted to escape. Why had he been afraid? But it was so hard to think.

*** Evin woke again, this time a little more himself. He remembered that he was in a cave with someone who took care of him. He listened in the darkness. He heard wind moving through the cave and perhaps the sound of someone else breathing. “Are you there?” he asked. “Yes. I kept you safe. I won’t hurt you, I swear.” It was the voice of another youth, close by. “Who are you?” Silence. Evin tried again. “Do I know you?” “No. I’m a stranger, but I promise I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.” “What happened? How did I get here?” “Your friend, he pushed you down and you got hurt, remember?” Something… It was true. Someone had hurt him. “He was going to hurt you some more, and I know it was wrong but I had to stop him. I ran him off. I brought you here to be safe.” “Tyber.” Evin’s face heated as he remembered exactly what the stranger might have seen them doing before… He touched his stomach and crotch and was relieved to find himself clothed. “Why did he want to hurt you? You were being nice to him, and he got mad.”

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Being nice to him? “What business is it of yours? Why were you watching us?” “I…I don’t know many people, and I wanted to see what you’re like. I don’t hurt nobody! I just watch.” “When? When do you watch?” In a quiet voice, the other said, “At night. Always. Whenever I can. I’m sorry!” Oh, not another one. Evin wanted to be outraged, but his head hurt and he just felt resigned. Easy enough to imagine what this one would want in return for keeping Evin’s secret. Wait. Evin struggled to understand something the stranger had said. “You just said it was wrong to run Tyber off. Why? What did you do?” Silence. “Look, we’re both in trouble now, and I’m trying to figure out how bad it is. You have to answer my questions and tell me the truth. Do you understand? Tyber can make lots of trouble. Why was it bad to run him off?” “Because…I’m not supposed to let nobody see me. I wasn’t supposed to help nobody. I wasn’t supposed to be seen!” “Why?” The voice choked with anguish. “Because I’m a monster. I was born wrong, and now they’ve seen me and they’ll kill me. But I couldn’t help—” “What do you mean, you’re a monster? You’re not making sense.” “I was born wrong. Something’s wrong with me. Mother told me if anyone sees me… Now they’re gonna kill us all.” Evin didn’t know what to say. The boy seemed honestly afraid. Why would any mother scare her son like this? What could really be so wrong with him? “Where’s your lantern? Take me out of this cave. I want to see.” “It’s not morning yet. I can take you partway, and you’ll be able to see in the morning. Can we wait till then?” “Look, you want to help me, right? How will it help if I stumble around blind and get hurt? Because I’m leaving.” The boy quieted for a time. Then he said, “Please can we finish talking first? It’s better if I tell you first. Before you see.” “Fine. Tell me now.” “The worst part… Well, I don’t know what the worst part is.” He took a shaky breath. “I’m ugly. I’m so awful ugly. And wrong.” “How?” “I look like a sinner’s soul, Mother says, like a monster. I’m disgusting and I’m green. Green all over, like rotten. You can see my eyes in the dark. Father says my eyes are enough to get me killed. Stuff is wrong with me! All over. Everything.” Liar. “I don’t see any light. Your eyes don’t shine in the dark!”

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“I’m trying to keep ’em closed or look away.” The boy’s voice tightened again with emotion. “I don’t want you to—You’d be scared, but I want to help. Don’t be scared!” “Let me see.” Evin peered into the blackness in the voice’s direction, expecting the stranger to give up his bluff and make excuses about why he couldn’t produce any shining eye trick. Then maybe Evin could pry some truth out of him, find out how to get out of here and go home. The boy’s breathing became shallow and hitched. Evin waited a moment for the story to come spilling out, but instead there was a sound of movement. The stranger scooted closer. A huff of breath washed over Evin’s face, and he flinched. Scant inches away, the boy whispered, “Please don’t be scared.” Eyes like burning yellow lamps split open in the darkness. “Lords!” Evin threw up an arm to push away whatever this thing was before him and scrabbled to try to get away from it. The panicked motion made Evin’s head pound again. Tiny specks of light appeared and faded in his vision. He had to stop to battle nausea. The creature’s miserable pleading continued. “I’m sorry; I’m sorry. I knew you’d be scared, but I won’t hurt you, I promise, please…” Evin tried to get hold of himself and put the image of those unnatural eyes out of his mind. His breath came in gulps. The thing wasn’t looking at him now, thank the lords, and that made it easier to control his urge to run screaming through the darkness. Finally he calmed enough to say, “Okay. Okay. That was bad—” “I’m sorry; I’m sorry.” “Shut up! It’s not your fault.” He took a deep breath. “I didn’t believe you, so I got surprised. That’s all.” Then he tried to make his voice less harsh and said, “Stop sniveling and act like a man, or whatever you are, okay?” “Uh-huh.” While Evin’s nerves settled again and the creature seemed to compose itself, Evin spoke. “Okay, okay. You have to hide, I understand now. And you helped me and you’re not going to hurt me. I believe you.” He paused to let his words soothe the thing, then continued, “The reason we’re in trouble is because you scared Tyber really bad when you chased him away, right? And if he saw your eyes…well, he’s gonna have the village panicking with tales of a monster come to get us. They’ll search for me. They might use dogs to find the monster. And then they’ll kill the monster. But you didn’t hurt Tyber, did you?” “No, not a bit.” The glowing eyes appeared again, looking to Evin for help, and Evin had to fight back another surge of panic. Lords, they were terrible! Evin tried to concentrate on solving their problem. “So…if I can get back to the village really soon, as fast as I can, then I’ll tell another story. No monster. Tyber can’t talk about what we were up to, so who knows what kind of story he made up. If I show up without a scratch and tell a better lie, maybe they’ll stop looking.”

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“But you do have a scratch! He hurt you.” “I’ll think of something. Tyber will punish me for it, and his friends too, but— wait.” Daubrec was destroyed by a demon. Even if nobody believes Tyber, they’ll search. “Tell me something. Do you know much about hunting? About dogs?” “Yes, I know lots. My father teaches me.” “Okay, we need to split up, and you have to use whatever you know to throw off the dogs. Are we close to the river?” “I can get us there quick if I carry you.” Evin suppressed a shudder. “Okay, that’s good. It’ll put your scent on me, then we can split up and you can use the water to fool the dogs. Does that sound good?” “Yes.” The blazing eyes looked down at the floor. “I’m…I’m sorry you have to touch me. I didn’t mean none of this.” Evin didn’t want to think about that. “Let’s go.”

*** The quickest way out of the cave was for the boy-thing to carry Evin, which he did easily, with no more trouble than Evin might have carrying a lapdog. Evin was mortified at the thought of anyone carrying him like an infant, but also frightened about what he would see when they left the cave. They neared the entrance, and the moon’s light grew enough for Evin to make out his surroundings. The creature moved very fast, leaving the cave and plunging into the forest at a run. Evin could probably run as fast in an open field during the day, but nobody could sprint through the forest like this at night. This thing must see perfectly in the dark. That’s why there had been no lantern in the cave. Evin found his attention fixed on the trees and branches that flew by, because he was terrified to look up and see exactly what kind of monster held him to its breast. But now that he thought about it that way, he had to look. He steeled himself and glanced sideways out of the corner of one eye. He saw a face. Like a person’s face, not the ravening beast he had feared. He turned his head and tried to get a better view despite the shadows racing over them in the night. The eyes were there—and yes, they were awful—and very dark skin and darker hair. He was big, this creature, with wide, solid features. But he wasn’t a creature. He was a young man about Evin’s age. Relief flowed through Evin’s body, relaxing him enough to make him feel almost buoyant. Burning curiosity soon followed. “Stop. Put me down and let me see you.” The stranger did stop and gently set Evin on his feet. Evin found he had to look up into the face revealed by the moonlight. The stranger’s skin was perfect and smooth, as if carved from some kind of deep green stone. A mop of wavy dark hair framed his face, and his eyes burned down upon Evin with a shy, shamed expression. He had wide cheekbones and a dimpled chin. A thin strip of the same dark hair traced along the underside of his jaw.

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He was terrifying and he was strange. But he was beautiful. Evin touched his cheek. It was soft and very cold. He closed his eyes, seemed to relax a little at Evin’s touch, and exhaled a long breath. “What’s your name?” Evin asked softly. “G-Gareth.” “Gareth. I’m Evin. Thank you for trying to help me.” Evin saw pitiful gratitude in Gareth’s strange eyes, but all Gareth said was, “I was stupid. I’m sorry.” “No. It was a mistake, just a mistake. And—listen to me, okay?” The yellow eyes fixed on Evin’s face. “You’re not a monster, Gareth. Not a monster at all. I think—” “No,” Gareth said, as if Evin’s gentle words were too much to accept. The baying of hounds sounded in the distance. Without another word, Gareth scooped Evin into his arms and raced toward the river.

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Chapter Six The upset in the village over Tyber’s wild story lasted for several days, but because the dogs could find nothing and Evin steadfastly denied ever having been kidnapped, it all finally settled down and life returned to normal. Except that Evin wanted to see Gareth again. Evin wanted to learn more about what Gareth was and where he came from. Where he lived, and how long he had been there. In truth, Evin could make some guesses. He didn’t want to upset Gareth by asking about them too soon, but… There was only one forbidden place near the village. The mountain where the trapper, Rhyd, lived. Everyone knew Rhyd was adamant about keeping people off his land. Villagers said there were different kinds of traps all over the mountain, and that some of the large game traps could be dangerous. So everyone stayed away. Mostly. The way Gareth spoke about his parents, he must be very different from them, which could mean that the parents were normal-looking, like Rhyd and his wife. What was her name? Evin didn’t know if he had ever heard it. Gareth was fascinating because he was so different. It was exciting to have such a fantastic secret. Evin understood that Gareth had to remain hidden away, because his parents were right: People wouldn’t understand. They would kill him. But Evin could keep secrets better than anyone. There was something more too. He watches us. Wants to know things. Gareth needed to know someone different, not like the parents who said those mean things to him. Mama and Papa love me. And Madame Tabeau. Gareth doesn’t have anybody. Evin began to go out regularly at night with the pretense of walking around the village. Each time, he carried his lantern and tried to make sure that anyone else wandering about would see him just strolling. Out for some exercise, nothing strange about that. But whenever it worked out that he could move unobserved a little farther into the woods, he would take a detour to get as close as possible to Rhyd’s land without straying far from the village. And when he wandered out that way, he would say Gareth’s name in a low voice, as if he were only mentioning it to a tree or passing light bug.

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Tonight, as he came to the low stone wall surrounding the inner part of the village, the moment seemed right to move farther into the woods. He put his lantern atop the wall, scrambled over it, then hooded the lantern and struck out closer to Rhyd’s land, stepping carefully until his eyes adjusted to the darkness. When he said Gareth’s name, a soft voice answered, “I’m here.” Evin stopped walking and looked around. “Where?” Glowing eyes appeared, peeking around a tree in the darkness ahead. Even though seeing Gareth was what he had hoped for, Evin’s blood ran cold, and it took a moment to regain his composure. He glanced around again to make sure they were alone, then approached and said, “Hi.” “Hi. How did you find me?” “In truth, you found me. You already said you watch us whenever you can.” “Oh. Yes.” Their conversation seemed to have run its course. Evin tried to find something else to talk about. Gareth said, “You didn’t tell them nothing about me.” Evin smiled. “I told ’em I was chased by a wolf. Tyber had everyone worked up with his story of the demon that took me, but then I showed up all safe and the dogs didn’t get you. Now nobody believes him.” The smile faded. “Tyber won’t forget this. He’ll hurt me when he can, and he’ll try to get the townsmen to find you and kill you. You have to watch out for him.” “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t let him hurt you no more.” Evin touched his arm. “I know. You were being stupid. But it was for a good reason, and I’m glad. Otherwise we were never going to meet, eh? You were just going to keep watching us all from far away.” “Yes,” Gareth said. “Nobody’s supposed to know about me. They’d hurt me because I’m ugly. Even you’re scared.” It was an accusation. Evin tried to come up with some half-truth that might make Gareth feel better, but he couldn’t think of one. “Where can we go talk?” “Over here.” Gareth led him to a thicket where they could sit unobserved even if other townsfolk happened to wander about for some reason. The center of the thicket had a bald patch of ground and opened to the sky, so Evin could see a little better. He sat with his legs in front of him and leaned back on his hands. Gareth sat beside him, cross-legged. Evin said, “You’re right. Your eyes are scary in the dark, and it’s weird that you’re all green. Your parents were right to hide you to keep you safe. But that stuff doesn’t make you ugly, and it doesn’t mean you can’t have friends.” Gareth looked down at his hands twisting in his lap. “Okay,” Evin said, “maybe you can’t have a great lot of friends and keep hidden. But I can be your friend.”

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“I can’t tell my parents I have friends, and you can’t tell nobody nothing about me!” “So we won’t tell anybody. I promise. But even though you’re a little scary, I want to be your friend.” “Why?” Evin scooted over to face Gareth and crossed his legs so that his knees were touching Gareth’s shins. Despite the clothing they wore, Evin noticed again how much cooler Gareth’s body was. Evin reached into Gareth’s lap, took a hand, and held it between both of his own. “I don’t know how to…well… You came from nowhere to help me when Tyber was hurting me. I needed help and you were there.” He held Gareth’s unresisting hand to his chest. “But you need help too, don’t you? You’re not a monster. You’re good, aren’t you? But you don’t have anybody, any friends. You’re hiding and you’re alone.” Gareth seemed to struggle to control his breathing. “When we were in the cave, I could hear how sad you were. You don’t have to tell me stuff you’re not supposed to talk about, but you can talk to me if you want, tell me how you feel.” “No, I—” Gareth’s voice cracked. “You told me some mean things your parents said. You need someone else to tell you—” “Please, don’t!” Gareth snatched his hand away as if Evin had stung him. He leaped to his feet and darted out of the thicket. Evin called in a loud whisper. “Gareth, wait!” The footfalls stopped. “I’m sorry. I wanted to help.” Gareth stalked back into view. “You’re just like him. You just want to make me feel bad.” “No, I said it wrong. I want to help.” “I said no!” “Okay then, but please don’t run away. We won’t say anything at all if you don’t want to. Just tell me what you want.” Gareth stood before Evin for a while, breathing heavily, saying nothing, and flexing his hands. “I won’t pry anymore. You decide what we talk about.” Evin took a step back and gestured at the ground, hoping Gareth would sit again. Gareth didn’t sit, but he didn’t leave, either. The set of his shoulders slowly relaxed, and the restless movement of his hands stopped before he spoke again. “In the woods…why did you do this?” Gareth put a hand to his own cheek. He touched it lightly with his fingertips, imitating the way Evin had done. His parents never comfort him. Evin searched for the way to explain to someone who had never been taught anything. “When people are sad…people who like them touch them. Like that sometimes. To help them feel better.”

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Gareth still wouldn’t look him in the eye, but he did nod. “People. Who like.” “I like you. You’re kind. And you’re not ugly, not to me. I think…I think you’re beautiful.” “No.” In a soft voice, Evin said, “Nobody touches you because they like you, do they? Nobody tries to make you feel good. But I will. If that’s what you want.” Gareth stared at his feet and said nothing. Maybe he was afraid to ask for what he wanted, afraid the offer was a trick. Evin eased in close, took Gareth’s hand, and with his free hand reached to stroke Gareth’s cheek again. “Is it okay?” Gareth closed his hand lightly over Evin’s. Evin pressed their bodies together and put his head on Gareth’s chest. After a moment’s hesitation, Gareth laid his free hand across Evin’s neck, barely touching, as if afraid Evin might break. They stood together for a while. When they parted, Gareth finally met Evin’s eyes with nervous glances. “Can I come back?” “I’ll come out to look for you every night I can. But be careful.” Gareth nodded. “A ghost.” He turned to leave, then turned back and lifted his hand to Evin’s face. His fingertips were large, his touch gentle. Not warm, but soothing and sweet in a way no friend had been for a long time. He stroked Evin’s cheek once and sprinted away into the forest.

*** Tonight Evin came even closer to Rhyd’s land as he wandered and whispered his calls to Gareth. He picked his way through the forest, but it was becoming too dense. He would have to turn back soon or unhood the lantern. Bats emitted their faint squeaks in the darkness above, and he tried to imagine what it was like for Gareth, to be able to see everything here. The path, the trees, and the bats dodging through them. He heard no noise of approach before a shy voice said, “Evin.” Ice ran down his spine. He sucked in a quick breath, which he let out in an exasperated laugh. “Well! Thank you for trying not to startle me.” Gareth said, “I’m sorry.” Was that a little bit of a smile Evin heard in the words? He hoped so. He turned to find eyes shining in the darkness, and this time he wasn’t scared at all. Evin smiled for Gareth and went to him, reaching out to touch cool flesh but finding instead the rough linen chemise. Beneath it, Gareth’s heart pounded. “Please don’t be afraid of me,” Evin said, knowing how ridiculous he sounded echoing Gareth’s plea from in the cave. “It’s too dark for me here. Can you lead us somewhere else?” “Okay.”

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His hand was taken into another, surrounded by it. Cold. Soft. Thick. Strong. He was pulled along like a child behind his father, little hand clasped in big. But it seemed to Evin that the big hand was the innocent, unsullied one. Gareth paused at the edge of the woods. Evin saw him in silhouette, how he carefully scanned the night landscape before leading Evin out into the open and then to a brushy depression between two hills. It was the sort of place that might hold a small pond during a rainy season, but now, in the heat of summer, it was dry. He could see better here, but Gareth still held on to him. Evin said nothing because he wanted that contact to last. They walked down into the depression. Gareth let go of his hand, and they sat side by side to look up at the shapes of the bats wheeling above. Evin decided to wait Gareth out this time. If I push him, he’ll panic. When the silence grew long, Gareth said, “I like bats. I wish I was a bat.” “Why?” “Because…they’re free, I guess. Nobody wants to trap them or eat them or nothing. They can fly away.” Evin thought about that, about being free to simply fly away into the sky where nobody could touch him and nothing mattered anymore. Nothing people on the ground worried about, anyway. “Yeah, but they eat bugs. And they have to come back, don’t they? They have families and places to live.” “Caves.” Hoping he wasn’t going too far, Evin said, “Where they hide from the day.” Gareth’s gaze dropped to the ground. “Last time, why were you trying to make me sad?” “You know I wasn’t.” “I’m not a baby. I’m not supposed to cry. So I don’t talk about sad stuff.” You want to. You need to, but I bet nobody listens. Do they punish you if you’re sad? Evin took time to choose his next words with care. He pitched a stone and pretended to watch where it fell. “Tyber tells younger kids things like that. ‘Don’t be such a baby!’ he says—after he’s picked on them. He makes ’em cry, then mocks ’em for it.” Gareth was silent for a long while. Were his parents like that? Evin was almost sure. Gareth didn’t reject the veiled accusation outright, but would he understand? Evin knew how it felt to have something inside, something painful and terrible and sad, but nobody to talk to. Like a storm always brewing. There was a storm inside Gareth. Evin heard it in everything he had said in the cave, and saw it in the way he fled when his feelings got too big. “He’s mean to them,” Gareth said, “because they cry…because he was mean to them.”

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“Some people do that. Tyber’s father does too. People like that, things bother them, and they feel better if they can make kids feel bad. But everyone gets sad sometimes. When you were young, did someone try to make you ashamed of being sad?” They sat for a while in silence. Evin could sense the tension, but he let Gareth think. Evin hoped the storm would gather enough strength to break. Don’t be afraid. Talk to me. His voice a child’s whisper, Gareth said, “I don’t know what I did.” Say it! Evin took his hand. “What did I do?” He glanced at Evin, his eyes wet. Their glow made unshed tears look like liquid fire. “Why was I born wrong? Why? They hate me for it…but what did I do?” “Nothing. It’s not your fault.” “No…I…” Tears spilled out. “Something… Evin, do—do you think I’m cursed for something I haven’t done yet?” Evin’s vision blurred. He knelt beside Gareth and clasped Gareth’s head to his chest. “No, no, you never did anything wrong.” How long have his parents let him believe this? “You helped me and didn’t hurt Tyber. You didn’t want anybody hurt.” He bowed over Gareth’s head, stroked Gareth’s hair and back. How could they do this to him, who should’ve loved him? “You’re not bad. It’s not your fault.” They keep him in darkness and tell him he’s a monster. Evin’s tears fell as he bowed over Gareth. For years, all his life. Surely they know he’s not… “You’re not a monster. Not ugly. Not cursed!” They were supposed to love him! “You’re good, I know it.” Gareth clung to him with a crushing strength, sobbing into his chest, trembling against him until the storm passed. When they were done, Gareth pulled away and looked up at him. Moonlight glinted off the wet face. He is so beautiful. Evin used his fingers to smooth tears away from the dark cheeks. Gareth reached up, gently touched Evin’s face, and said, “I made you cry.” “No, you made me happy,” Evin said, and a drop fell from his chin to make him a liar. “I’m helping you feel better. This is good.” Gareth watched him. Evin leaned in slowly, lowering his lips to Gareth’s cheek. Gareth stiffened but then relaxed when Evin merely kissed him there. Evin tasted the salt of sweat and tears, smelled the strange wood scent of Gareth’s skin. He trailed kisses along the jawline. Gareth sighed, and the muscles in his shoulders slowly released their tension. Evin pulled away to look at him. “Is this okay, kissing you like this? Can I do more?” Gareth nodded.

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Evin put a hand on his neck, leaned in, and began to kiss him on the lips. At first Gareth just allowed it without responding, but then he tried to imitate what Evin was doing. Evin licked across Gareth’s lips, pressed in, touched his teeth. Gareth opened, and their tongues met. The kiss grew hungry, and the remaining tension in Gareth’s body slowly drained away. He had to stop for breath. Gareth sniffled and said, “You taste good. Kissing.” The corners of his mouth quirked up just a bit. “You too. I like to see you smile.” But that must have made Gareth selfconscious; his smile vanished, and he didn’t meet Evin’s eyes. So Evin kissed him some more until he forgot himself again. Evin’s breeches were uncomfortable now, constraining his hardness. He moved to straddle Gareth’s thighs and settled his weight firmly into Gareth’s lap. This brought them level, face-to-face. Big hands stroked across his back. Evin kissed him once more, then leaned back into those hands, letting them hold him up. “See, I can make you feel better,” he said. Gareth nodded. “But why? Why don’t you hate me? Something’s wrong with me. Nobody else is green, are they? Mother says they’re not. What if I really am a demon?” “Well, maybe you are. Maybe all real demons start crying whenever someone calls ’em good.” Gareth sputtered. “I’m serious!” Evin continued stroking Gareth’s hair and comforting him until he was sure Gareth felt better. “You are really too easy.” “What does that mean?” “It means you’re like a little brother, I guess. Too trusting.” Gareth looked away. “I don’t believe just everything you say.” “Oh? But I haven’t lied to you.” “Not lying. Just wrong. I know I’m ugly…and awful…and stupid, like you said.” “Don’t be stu—I mean, what makes you believe all that? Why must your parents be right?” Gareth put his head down on Evin’s chest. “I…don’t know what to say.” He hadn’t meant to call Gareth stupid, exactly, when he said Gareth had been stupid to risk helping—but that was the word Gareth remembered. I’m the stupid one. “Gareth, I’m sorry I called you that. I didn’t mean it. Friends say that to each other all the time, just because they’re friends. They don’t mean it.” He gently lifted Gareth’s face back up, holding it between his hands, and looked into Gareth’s shining eyes. “I made a mistake. Your parents did too. We made mistakes. Those

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bad things we said, they aren’t true. Not about you. You are really, truly beautiful. You’re brave. You’re good.” Gareth was mute, maybe afraid to ask for such reassurance, but Evin saw that he was desperate to believe. By the moon and their own supernal light, his eyes were pleading. They were the same as anyone’s but with whites, irises, and pupils distinguishable only by varying degrees of the yellow glow’s brightness. It was as if they had absorbed the shine of summer light bugs, and though they were terrifying when unexpected in the dark, Evin thought they were marvelous. Using his thumbs, he traced slowly along Gareth’s eyebrows, temples, cheeks, demonstrating that he no longer had any fear. “I don’t care why you’re different. I don’t need to know where you came from before I can be your friend. I really like you, and I think you like me.” Gareth nodded. “We’re friends. That’s answer enough.” Evin drew his hands down to caress Gareth’s chest. “You said you saw me ‘being nice’ to Tyber, so you know what we do. But you came to me anyway. Do you want me to do those things for you?” Gareth shook his head. “You don’t have to. Holding you here is good. You already been so nice to me.” “You’re just afraid to ask for anything, aren’t you? You’ve learned never to let anyone know what you want. I’m like that with most people too.” Evin kissed Gareth again and pressed himself into Gareth’s crotch. “We don’t have to be that way, not when it’s you and me. I’ll do anything for you, I think. But I want you to show me you’re brave. I want you to tell me what you want.” Gareth stared at him for a long moment, then pulled him close and spoke into his shoulder. “Just this, today. Okay, Evin? Can I ask you to do that other stuff…tomorrow?” Evin tightened his arms around Gareth. “Just this is okay. Anything you want.”

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Chapter Seven The next night, Evin left his home as soon as darkness fell. The summer heat had been oppressive through the day, and it remained uncomfortable outside into the early evening. Evin had not worn a chemise all day—it was just too hot—but before leaving to find Gareth, he reluctantly put one on. So far, Gareth had been fully clothed each time they met, and Evin feared too much bare skin might be intimidating for him. Evin hoped to overcome Gareth’s fears tonight, not stoke them. He left his family’s cabin and walked toward the edge of the village, where he would turn to circle around it. As he neared the workshop, a figure stepped from the shadows to face him. Evin’s heart clenched. Not here! It’s too dangerous! But then he realized this person was too small. He raised his lantern’s beam and saw that it was only Marc. “He wants to see you,” Marc said. His face and voice were stern. Evin sighed. There was a girl in Laforet who served Tyber much as Evin did, so far in ways that wouldn’t make a baby. She didn’t like Evin, which was fine with him, so he was free of Tyber on those nights when Ysabeau could satisfy Tyber’s whims. Tyber would have made do with her while he was too angry to treat with Evin, but not forever. Tyber’s attention had to return sooner or later. At least for revenge. “Where?” Evin asked. Marc motioned with his hand, then turned and led. Evin suppressed an urge to ask about Tyber’s mood. Marc’s demeanor suggested he thought this meeting would not go well for Evin. Should have already been planning how to handle Tyber. I knew it was dangerous to embarrass him like that. Marc led him around the workshop and then turned in toward the village’s center. They arrived at a boulder in the yard between the workshop and mill. Tyber leaned against the stone, his body tense and radiating anger. Evin stood before him and tried to keep a neutral expression and prepare himself. Not one word about Gareth. Not one word. Marc glanced from one to the other, then broke the thick silence. “I brought him to you, just like you said.” Tyber’s eyes never left Evin’s face. “You’re gonna pay for making me look bad.”

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Memories flashed through Evin’s mind. Tyber throwing him backward into the darkened workshop. Tyber’s face in a shaft of moonlight, his vicious grin, in the instant before the world erupted in blinding pain. Hands that seemed to belong to someone else, scrabbling feebly on the floor as he was dragged back. “Oh, I didn’t make you look bad,” Evin said. “You did that all by yourself. You could’ve killed me.” “I’m talking about the demon! Why did you lie about it? Why are you protecting it?” Tyber’s eyes narrowed. “What did it do to you?” “You’re the only one who tried to do something to me. What were you going to do after you—” Tyber leaped up from the rock and shoved Evin hard in the chest so he stumbled backward. “Shut up! We’re not talking about that.” “After you bashed my head in! What were you gonna do?” Tyber’s gaze snapped to Marc, who looked on with startled eyes. “What’re you looking at? Go on home!” Marc stared as if unable to comprehend that Tyber had turned on him, or why. “Get!” Marc flinched and backed away. He turned toward the village center and stomped away. “I did what you said!” Tyber turned back to Evin. “And you. I’m gonna get you, Evin. I’ll find that demon, and I’ll prove to everyone that you lied.” Yeah, and then what happens? You’ll lose your favorite plaything. But Evin was glad Tyber was more concerned about punishing him than finding the “demon.” He could work with that. Evin calmed his voice. “Why, Tyber? Are you trying to get me killed? If that’s what you want, then you’ve already won.” Tyber hesitated. “No, I—” “You own me. I’m your dog, just like you said.” Evin shuttered the lantern, snuffing out the light on Tyber’s face. He stepped in to bring their bodies close. “I’ll show you right now, if you want.” “You made me a fool,” Tyber said, speaking over Evin’s shoulder, but the heat was gone. It was a childish, empty complaint. “You don’t have to prove anything. You can talk to your father and have me killed right now.” “I could!” Evin placed a hand on Tyber’s hips and leaned in, close enough to breathe his words against Tyber’s skin. “But then there would be no more hunting trips. You’d never get to use me again.” He pulled their hips together and kissed Tyber’s neck. A shudder passed through Tyber’s body. He whipped an arm around Evin, pulled his face up, and kissed him fiercely. Evin called up his memory of the Tyber he had loved long ago, before the cruelty and callousness. The Tyber he had lost, whom Evin missed and mourned

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sometimes when a fleeting echo surfaced in this one’s face or manner. That was the boy he kissed: the lost boy. He should have dealt with Tyber days ago, but he had avoided it because he knew they would come to this. This was the way to distract Tyber and assuage his bruised ego. This was the only power Evin had, one he had learned in bitter lessons through the years. The power of words and secrets, lust, and sometimes lies. He would use that power ruthlessly to protect the ones who mattered. For now Evin would be anything Tyber wanted. He would cool Tyber’s anger and end the dangerous talk about a demon. Tyber’s fist loosened, and the quality of his embrace changed from possession to need. When their lips parted, they were breathing like soldiers after battle. Evin looked for Tyber’s face in the night and said, “See? Let it go. Be good to me again, and it can all be like it was.” Tyber kissed him again and ground his hardening cock against Evin’s body. They parted, and Tyber took Evin’s hand and pulled him roughly toward the workshop. When they reached the door, Tyber let go and looked back. “This doesn’t fix it.” “But you’ll let me try, won’t you?” “C’mon.” Tyber slipped into the workshop’s shadows. Before entering, Evin cast a glance toward the woods, hoping that, out in the darkness, he would not see twin points of light looking back.

*** On the third night after their last meeting, Gareth finally spotted Evin, walking alone under a dense forest canopy. The intervening days had been difficult. He didn’t find Evin on the first night, and on the second, he dared not approach the village because Tyber and Johan were wandering around. All the while, Gareth’s misgivings grew. What if Evin thought differently now? What if Gareth had been too embarrassing, crying like that over something so stupid? Such a baby. Could Evin really like him? Gareth twisted his hands together. But he’s here now. If he didn’t like me, he’d stay home, wouldn’t he? He let his gaze slip from Evin for a moment as he looked around to see if anyone else might be near. No one. He approached carefully as always, avoiding debris on the forest floor so he would make no noise, until he was close enough to hear something he could only have dreamed of a few days ago: the sound of his name falling in a whisper from Evin’s lips. All saints, he had been so nervous a moment ago, and now the relief of hearing that one word made him feel ready to cry again. He drew in a silent breath and composed himself, because he would not be a baby tonight. “I’m here,” he whispered. He stood where Evin would be sure to see his eyes. Evin looked directly at him and beamed. “Finally!” Evin whispered.

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Gareth sighed. “Yes.” “Let’s go where we can talk, okay?” “Yes.” They moved farther away from the village until they were confident of privacy. Then Evin said, “I’m sorry about the other night. I was busy.” “Oh. That’s okay.” Busy doing what? Only he could imagine well enough. “But tonight I’m all yours.” Evin looked down. “At least I hope so.” He looked back into Gareth’s eyes. “You’re going to ask me for something tonight. Whatever you want, right?” Gareth’s cheeks burned. “Y-yes. Yes.” Evin grinned. “Ask me now.” “Wait, it’s too soon. There’s a place. I want to show you it, okay?” “What place?” “It’s up on the mountain. Where we can look at stars. I like it. I want you to see, and we can do stuff there. Okay?” Evin stepped closer to embrace Gareth and kissed the hair on his chin. “That sounds perfect. Show me.” Gareth led Evin to a trail, up toward the mountain.

*** As Evin followed Gareth up the mountain, the forest of densely leaved oak trees gave way to balder varieties and moonlight shone through more often. Whenever the trail led through a wash of moonlight, Evin made it a point to look up from the path to watch Gareth move through the soft glow. Evin loved the way the light painted him. The way the muscles moved across his broad back. And the shapes of his flexing thighs and rear end… With his gaze on Gareth’s body, he took a wrong step and lost his footing. His knee came down on a stone with a jarring impact that made him gasp. Gareth whirled. “What—” Evin stood. “I’m okay. I just slipped. Should have been looking where I was going, but I couldn’t stop watching your backside.” Surprise and pleasure crossed Gareth’s face before shame chased them away. “You’re wrong in the head.” “Yes, and aren’t you lucky.” Gareth’s eyebrows scrunched in a look of concern as he took two quick sniffs of air. “You’re bleeding!” “What? No, I’m all right.” “No, let me see.” Gareth helped Evin sit on a rock and carefully rolled up the leg of his breeches. They had torn a little on the knee. Evin had a bleeding scrape but nothing to worry about. The moonlight was bright enough for Evin to see that it

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was just mostly dirty from the loose earth and decomposing leaves that had been ground into it by the impact. He must have cut himself on a rock. “You gotta be careful, Evin! You get hurt so easily.” What! Evin bit back a sharp reply and said instead, “I can clean it in the next stream we find. Don’t worry about it.” “I should have carried you. I’m sorry.” “No. It makes me think, though. If I’m going to wander around in the night looking for you, I should have a bag of remedies in case stuff like this happens.” “Animals lick their wounds, but people don’t,” Gareth said. “Uh…yes. Very true.” Evin brushed dirt away from his wound. “I certainly won’t be licking dirt out of my wound.” “No. Of course, no. But I can clean it off better right now with your spit.” Strange as it was, the thought didn’t disgust Evin. Gareth could see, so he’d be better able to clean the scrape. “Go ahead.” Gareth held out his fingers. Evin drooled and spat on them, and Gareth began to gently wash Evin’s scrape. Evin tried not to react when it hurt. What might it mean that Gareth thought first of cleaning wounds by licking them? The only things Gareth knew about people came from his bastard parents and what little he could observe of the villagers from the darkness. Maybe most of what he knew about the world came from watching the creatures that were active at night. When Gareth finished, Evin rolled his breeches back down and asked, “What else have you learned from animals?” “You think I’m a fool, don’t you?” His voice was low. Evin leaned forward and took Gareth’s hands. “No, I think you’re smart. I think you watch everything and learn. Even when people didn’t care enough to teach you, you learned.” Gareth looked at him for a moment as if trying to decide whether Evin was serious or mocking. Evin pulled one of Gareth’s big hands to his face and rubbed the fingernails against his lips. “You really want to know about the animals?” “Yes. Do they do any of the same things people do?” “They groom each other. They touch faces like you touch lips. Like kissing. And they clean each other by licking. Just like…” “Go on.” Evin licked the back of Gareth’s hand. “Uhm. Just like…” Evin kissed Gareth’s knuckles. “Just like that. Like that.” It was sweet how such a small act unnerved him. It wouldn’t last long. Gareth was a man, after all. He would express a desire soon enough—maybe sooner if Evin got him thinking the right way. “Have you ever caught animals fucking?” Evin said.

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“M-maybe. What’s that?” “It’s how they make babies, you know? Little ones? Have you seen one animal climb on top of another and they wiggle?” “Ha! Yes! Is that what it’s for? They wiggle and little ones are born?” “Yes.” The more Evin surmised about Gareth’s parents and their neglect, the more he hated them. He let go of Gareth’s hands and stood to embrace him. “I don’t understand though,” Gareth said. “I was born too. But I don’t think my parents do the fucking. Maybe…maybe since I came out wrong, they don’t want babies. Maybe they’re afraid of—” Stupid! You have to watch everything you say. “No, Gareth, don’t think about them. I wanted you to think about us.” Evin pulled him into a kiss. At first Gareth seemed to simply allow it, as if he weren’t really present, as if still troubled by his thoughts. But Evin was urgent, licking and teasing, and Gareth soon warmed to his passion. Evin sat again and lay back, pulling Gareth to all fours over him. When the kiss ended, Evin looked up into the dark face blotting out the sky above. “You try to find a way to take the blame for everything. Stop it! It’s not your fault I can’t see in the dark. It’s not your fault you’re different. And if your parents are unhappy, it’s only because something’s wrong with them. I know you’re different, and I like you. I want to do stuff with you. I want to do it to you and for you, if only you’ll tell me what you wish.” Gareth’s voice was thick. “I want us to, but not here. Can we wait until we’re there?” “Well, then, help me up and let’s go.” In a companionable silence, they ascended to a spot near the top of the mountain. Gareth turned off the well-worn trail and onto a smaller one that ended at an edge overlooking the valley. He pointed down. “Right there.” Evin peered over the edge. A boulder stuck out below, forming a wide, square ledge. A spine of scalloped rock shelves stretched up toward them, offering easy handholds for Gareth to use for climbing down. They were too far apart for Evin to make the climb by himself, but Gareth helped him from one to the next until they both stood on the outcrop. Evin was unaccustomed to such heights. Here in the open, warm gusts of wind jostled him, and he feared he might suddenly fall right over the edge, even if he didn’t move. It was scary but also exciting to look out into the night this way. As he scanned the moonlit valley and tried to hide his anxiety, he noticed Gareth watching him intently, as if waiting for him to pass judgment. He smiled in response to whatever question Gareth had in mind, and Gareth’s posture visibly relaxed. “What now?” Evin asked. “Um… It’s a good place to see the stars.”

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“It’s a wonderful place. Thank you for bringing me here.” He turned away from Gareth and looked out at the valley again. “I’ll just sit over there and watch the stars, then, shall I? Until you have another idea…” He took two short and careful steps before arms encircled him from behind and Gareth pulled their bodies close. “Please, Evin, I’m trying to be brave.” Evin sighed and tilted his head back to rest on Gareth’s chest. “Just ask. It’s okay to tell me what you want.” “I do want something, but I don’t know how to say.” “Tell me.” “I—I saw you kissing that watchman…down there…and you made his white stuff come out.” Gareth reached around to touch Evin’s face softly, and Evin flushed with embarrassment at the childish description and the memory of how Nicolas had wanted to humiliate him. At the knowledge that Gareth had seen him treated that way. “Is that okay?” Nicolas had been about bullying and humiliation, but Gareth didn’t understand that. Evin pulled his thoughts back to this moment, to concentrate on the feeling of being held here, held by someone who was not like Nicolas or Johan or any of the ones from the village, who looked at Evin with simple trust and asked for this out of simple desire. With Gareth, it could be good. Evin turned around in Gareth’s arms and untied his breeches. Gareth closed his eyes and released a sighing breath. As his breeches dropped away, Evin coaxed him to lift his chemise off as well, then stood back to allow him to finish undressing. Gareth stood naked in the moonlight. He was unlike anything Evin had seen before. His musculature, emphasized by the play of the moon’s light and shadow, showed he would rival the men who spent their lives felling trees and moving heavy lumber. His nipples were dark, like bruises, and coin-sized. He wasn’t fully hard, but his cock was like a club: thick at the base and even thicker up toward the head. Behind it, Gareth’s sac hung, larger than any Evin had seen. And the strangest thing of all was the smoothness. Except for the curls on his head and his eyebrows and the light strip of hair along his jaw, Gareth was absolutely hairless. He was smoother than Evin had been as a child. Any of the men Evin knew would want to show off such a powerful, masculine body, especially before demanding the use of his mouth, but Gareth seemed unnerved by Evin’s gaze. “Am I okay?” Evin shucked his own clothing, threw it down at Gareth’s feet to make a pad, then knelt on his uninjured knee. He gazed into Gareth’s eyes as he used one hand to lift the dangling cock so that he could press his lips firmly to its base, kiss the shaft, touch the smooth softness of that cool skin, and inhale deeply the musk of Gareth’s private flesh. The scent kindled a fire inside him, and his own cock swelled to full hardness. Evin licked slowly up the veined shaft, feeling Gareth harden, then pulled away to grin up at Gareth’s openmouthed fascination.

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“You’re so big I’m not sure I can do well with my mouth. But I want to. I really want to make you feel good.” Evin leaned to bring his tongue to the head of Gareth’s cock, which was now fully hard. The taste and texture of the fat, rounded tip made him hum in pleasure. He used one hand to steady the fleshy tube and began to lick slowly around the flare of it, trying to feel and taste it all over. Gareth gave a long moan, and a dollop of liquid oozed out of the slit just as Evin finished circling the head with his tongue. Evin licked it up and found that it tasted perfectly normal. He wanted more. Evin opened his mouth and slowly took the head of Gareth’s cock in. He wrapped his lips over the flare and began flicking the tip of his tongue all around the head, occasionally swiping into the slit to get another taste of the liquid dribbling out. And Gareth was loving the tender ministrations, oohing and aahing as Evin swirled his tongue even more vigorously over the oozing tip. Gareth stroked his hair. Thus encouraged, Evin opened wider and managed to get the fattest part of Gareth’s cock into his mouth. It filled him and smothered his groan of delight. “Oh, Evin, it’s so hot there, burning, but it feels good. Thank you. Thank you.” He moved his lips inch by tantalizing inch down the skin of Gareth’s shaft, tasting it all and feeling his lips and tongue slide along the swollen vein. He breathed in the scent of Gareth’s clean sweat and woodsy musk. He closed his eyes as the scent and feel of sucking on Gareth’s cock made his body pulse with joy. He might spill his own seed before he could get a mouthful of Gareth’s. Once Evin took in as much of Gareth as he could handle, he backed off, leaving drool to coat Gareth’s cock as he pulled away. He pursed his lips tightly over the head and licked around it again, then opened and plunged back down onto its slickness. Gareth sucked in a hissing breath. Evin put a hand on the base of Gareth’s cock and stroked it with hand and mouth for a while. Gareth firmly pushed Evin’s head away. Evin strained for Gareth’s cock, wanting to suck more, but it was gone. He opened his eyes to look up at Gareth, who said, “Let’s lie down, okay?” They moved toward the middle of the ledge. Gareth lay down on his back and urged Evin to lie on top of him. “You’re so fuzzy,” he said. “I want to feel it.” Evin was charmed by the idea that he himself could be an exotic mystery to Gareth. He lay so that their stomachs pressed together, his legs parted and Gareth’s stiff cock reaching through to touch his ass. He held himself with his hands on the rock above Gareth’s shoulders, and they looked into each other’s eyes for a time. Gareth caressed Evin’s back and ass and ran thick fingers over the ridges of Evin’s spine. Gareth’s skin soon warmed everywhere they made contact. It was more than comfortable. Evin could stay there forever. He lowered himself to kiss Gareth deeply on the lips; tenderly on the nose, eyebrows, and cheeks; and hungrily on the mouth again. He moved down, pressing

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his crack against Gareth’s cock, curling his body until his mouth could reach one of Gareth’s nipples. When he gave that nipple a firm lick, Gareth drew in a breath at the sensation. Evin bore down, licking the stiff bud and the soft flesh around it, making Gareth squirm and whimper. Delighted by such responsiveness, Evin tried to do even more, working Gareth’s nipples in turn with his lips and tongue, caressing Gareth’s arms and ribs and hips with his fingers. Gareth’s wriggles and moans went right to Evin’s cock, making him hard to bursting. When he believed he had teased Gareth’s twitching body enough, he lifted himself into a sitting position, resting his crack firmly against Gareth’s hard cock and holding himself up with his hands on Gareth’s chest. “Your cock feels good against my ass.” “You’re so warm all over.” Gareth sighed, looking up with half-lidded eyes. The moonlight was enough to let Evin see the rare and precious expression of unguarded happiness on Gareth’s face. His heart melted in his chest. Gareth reached up and began to caress him, running large hands all over Evin’s body. “You do things like this with your other friends.” “Yes, you’ve seen—Oh!” Evin gasped and threw his head back as Gareth’s thumbs grazed and gently squeezed his nipples. “But they’re not good to you.” Gareth trailed his hands down to Evin’s stomach, teasing the hair there, allowing Evin to speak again. “No. I don’t want to talk about them. Please, Gareth, just let me make you spill your seed.” “With your mouth?” “Yes.” “And after, I won’t hit you. After I make us wet. I promise I’ll never hurt you.” Evin nodded. Gareth’s earnest vow pierced him. He had thought he was the one in control, giving comfort, being the protector, but in that moment, Gareth revealed that the reverse was true. Evin was safe with him in a way he had never been with the others. Evin couldn’t speak. He rose up and pulled away, then gathered clothing and put it into place so he could kneel between Gareth’s legs. With his hands, he urged Gareth to lift both knees so he could move in to lick Gareth’s balls. He used his tongue to circle firmly around each of them, and pressed in to lick the shaft of Gareth’s cock through the skin of the soft, hairless sac. Gareth moaned and, with a hand on the back of Evin’s head, gently pressed his face in. Gareth’s hardness grew even stiffer against Evin’s face. Gareth released him, and Evin trailed his tongue up and up, along the bobbing shaft. Gareth showed Evin something then. He grabbed the base of his cock in one hand and scrubbed the head first against one thigh for a few strokes, then the other. His legs twitched as he did this.

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When he let up, Evin covered Gareth’s fist with one hand and guided him to press himself against Evin’s tongue. Evin licked against this pressure, right at the seam beneath the slit, and thrilled at the growl Gareth made in response. Evin continued that for a while, roughly licking the underside of Gareth’s cock as they both mashed it into Evin’s tongue and face. Gareth reached up and used the palm of his other hand to stroke the top of his own cockhead. His shallow breathing sped up. They were working together, focused on the same goal, but Evin wanted it to last a bit longer. He pushed Gareth’s hands away and again took Gareth’s cock into his mouth. He began to dip his head down, tighten and pull back up, over and over. Evin was gradually able to take a little more in. Sweat, spit, and drops of escaping seed had mixed against the skin of Gareth’s cock. They made a powerful elixir. As Evin slicked down on Gareth only to pull reluctantly back off, he could taste and smell it. It made his heart ache with the desire to please. Gareth whimpered and said unintelligible things in gratitude. Evin turned his head from side to side to vary the angle, to make Gareth feel the strokes in as many different places as possible. He let the cock fall from his mouth and licked along the sides and down to Gareth’s sac. He pressed his face in again, letting the intense wood-spice scent drive him almost mad. When he lifted his head up, he found Gareth’s fingers kneading the tip of the cock. Evin took over, alternating between doing that and stroking all the way up and down the shaft. “Oh, Evin… Ohhhh, Evin…” Gareth’s head was thrown back in ecstasy. Evin went down again with his mouth, taking Gareth in and sucking as he dragged his lips up to the tip. And back down. Gareth began to pump, lifting his hips off the rock to push his cock deeper into Evin’s throat. Evin pulled off Gareth’s cock and again tried the trick of licking the underside of the head while pressing it hard against his tongue. Because he was the one holding the base this time, he could feel the thrum of blood pumping forcefully through the vein each time he swiped against that little seam of flesh. Oh, I’ve got you now! He gave Gareth’s cock a few rough pumps, then braced his elbow for balance, held the cock at the base, and mashed that sensitive spot to his tongue. While he licked there feverishly, he reached out with his free hand. When Evin found and kneaded Gareth’s nipple, Gareth’s entire body jerked. “Ah! Mnnnnnnn!” His cock swelled against Evin’s lips and tongue as a spray of seed was forced through it, then another and another. Cool and somehow sweet and bitter at once. “Ev—aaahhh.” Evin stroked the base in his fist and continued to lick as Gareth’s body shuddered and flailed. Seed flowed out in a near-continuous stream, burbling over

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Evin’s tongue, lips, chin, but still Gareth’s muscles would bunch to shoot thick streams high and away. The sound of liquid splattering against Gareth’s thrashing body was intensely erotic to Evin, overwhelming him with a desire to have the juice blasted into him. Gareth gasped, making noises like “hah!” and “huh!” Evin struggled to swallow Gareth’s cock again. He took one shot on the cheek beside his nose, then closed his lips around the head. Evin’s mouth flooded with Gareth’s juice, and he swallowed, then pulled off again and watched in awe as Gareth’s cock still sprayed weaker, staccato gouts. Evin wished he had known what a miracle he would see. He would have counted the shots! More than ten, he was sure. Finally it ended, and Gareth lay taking rapid breaths. His cock was still hard, standing there, inviting, dripping with thick, creamy seed, and Evin had the crazy desire to express gratitude to it. He did so by taking the head in his mouth again, licking that part clean. “After I make us wet.” When Gareth had said it, Evin couldn’t have dreamed! Gareth’s torso and face were covered in splashes of seed that glittered in the moonlight. He imagined there was more than if all his other friends sprayed at once into a bucket. It was incredible, and like everything else about Gareth, strange and perfect. Letting his own face drip for now, he just sucked lovingly on Gareth’s cockhead, drawing out the last drops as Gareth quivered beneath him. In an amused but still breathless voice, Gareth said, “Is that snot or just me?” If that was supposed to be a joke about the seed running down the side of Evin’s nose, he didn’t get it. He continued sucking and also reached up to wipe his face. “No, wait,” Gareth said, pulling gently at Evin’s head to urge him to move up. Evin let Gareth’s cock fall from his lips and crawled forward. On the way, he put his face down to rub in all the wetness and eat what he could. When they were eye to eye, Gareth hummed with pleasure while tenderly licking all the seed from Evin’s face. Evin kissed Gareth deeply to share the sweet taste on their tongues. “You were so good to me. Thank you,” Gareth said. “I was rewarded for my effort.” Evin began to lick Gareth’s face too. Gareth chuckled. “Before, I wasn’t sure if it was okay to eat that stuff, but I like it. It tastes even better when you bring it up to me.” “It’s called seed. You’d better like to taste it, because I’m bursting to feed you mine.” Gareth looked surprised, like he never realized there would be more to do. But before Evin knew what was happening, Gareth stood him back on his feet and sat in front of him. With no hesitation, Gareth took Evin into his mouth. “Oh.”

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Gareth’s cool tongue licked around inside his foreskin; then Gareth took him all the way in. The head of his cock touched the back of Gareth’s throat, and cool, slick flesh closed over it. Gareth didn’t choke or show any discomfort. “Oh, that’s good… Curl your tongue to cover your teeth, okay?” “Ah-hah.” As before, Gareth learned quickly. He licked and teased around Evin’s cock, letting it reach back into his throat when he pushed down far enough to put his nose into the bush of hair at its base. He paused to inhale deeply, then pulled back off with just the right amount of pressure, dragging the tender flesh of his tongue and mouth over Evin’s skin, striking sparks that flew through Evin’s cock to every part of his body, to make him coo with delight. Gareth took him back down, tight and slick, and began a rhythm. Coolness teased along Evin’s hips and thighs as Gareth’s blunt fingers caressed and explored them. Warm wind brushed over his back and shoulders and tousled his hair. Wet softness swallowed and stroked him. Echoes of fire and ice chased over his body, bringing every inch of his skin alive to crackle with sensation that left him light-headed. Afraid he might lose himself and tumble right off the edge of the rock, he said, “Don’t let me go.” Gareth held on with hands wrapped firmly around Evin’s hips. The tips of his fingers just dipped into the cleft of Evin’s ass. Evin reached back, put his hands over them, and urged Gareth to press in deeper. Gareth stopped moving. Evin looked down to find that Gareth still had his mouth full of cock but stared up with knitted eyebrows. Evin grinned and said, “Touch me there. It’s okay.” Gareth redoubled his efforts, using his mouth to stroke Evin’s cock as his hands kneaded Evin’s ass and he moved his fingers to reach where Evin wanted them. Evin put a palm on Gareth’s forehead, signaling him to stop, and when he did, Evin took over, thrusting in and out of his mouth, slamming into the back of Gareth’s throat before pulling almost out, again and again, with ever greater urgency. His breath came in gasps. “Wet…your fingers. Touch me. There!” Evin said. Gareth gathered up some of the saliva spreading from his lips onto Evin’s cock. Then he reached around again to cup Evin’s ass and press in. Evin was getting close. The sparks bristled through him between the tight mouth taking his cock and the slick fingers rubbing and touching in his crack. Gareth’s fingers probed the edge of his hole and pressed against it. Gareth nudged him there—just a little, but that was all it took. Evin shoved himself into Gareth’s throat as deeply as he could go, and his cock loosed his seed into Gareth’s mouth. “Ah! Aaaaaaah! Oh yes!” He held himself pressed against Gareth’s face. The muscles in his abdomen jerked. Little stabbing motions rubbed his cock in the liquid heat he gushed as fast as Gareth could swallow it around him. He thought he might

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collapse over Gareth’s shoulder, but still his body shivered as if it wouldn’t quite stop fucking Gareth’s mouth. He didn’t fall over, because Gareth still held him with hands on his hips again. When there was nothing more for Evin to give, Gareth helped him pull out and stand. Gareth looked up, and Evin gazed into his eyes, sharing his moment of happiness because of what they had made each other feel. Evin ran his fingers in gentle strokes down Gareth’s cheeks. The moment lingered. Gareth broke eye contact first, sweeping his gaze down Evin’s body. “You did like that,” he whispered. “I did like it. You were good.” Evin bent down to kiss him again, a tender kiss of gratitude that mingled their tongues briefly. As Evin pulled away, Gareth remained sitting motionless with his eyes closed, wearing a crooked grin. Evin paused, charmed by the guileless look of happiness and hoping to avoid any move or sound that might disturb Gareth’s contented moment. When the luminous eyes fluttered open again, Evin smiled for him. “You were perfect.” Evin urged Gareth to lie back, this time using a wadded-up chemise as a pillow. Evin lay facedown on top of him again, cheek to his chest, listening to him breathe and enjoying the touch as Gareth reached around to idly finger Evin’s hole while they drowsed.

*** Evin woke to the feel of Gareth’s hands stroking his back and kneading his ass. He growled approval, despite the fact that he was chilly. The night air had cooled and the rock was shedding less heat from yesterday’s sun; and of course Gareth’s body didn’t help. He hoped Gareth was waking him with ideas that would get him warmed up again, but instead came the dreaded whisper: “We have to get you home.” “No, I want to stay with you tonight.” He curled up tighter, pressing his face into Gareth’s chest. “Me too, Evin, but we can’t. I have to take you home before light. And I have to do some of my chores. If my parents get suspicious…” “All right. Let me get my clothes—Ow!” Every hair on Evin’s abdomen was yanked at once from being glued to Gareth’s skin. Taking care not to put his injured knee down on the rock, Evin stood, then offered a hand to help Gareth up. Both of them brushed dried flakes off their bellies. They dressed in silence. It was time to trudge back toward their mundane lives. Only later did Evin realize that they had forgotten to look up at the stars.

***

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As he was led back down the mountain trail, Evin recalled Gareth’s talk of watching him with the others. How long had Gareth been around, unseen and unsuspected? “Gareth.” “Hm?” “How long have you been watching me?” “I don’t know. I’ve watched all the villagers for years, ever since I was allowed to do chores by myself.” And with perfect, thoughtless innocence, he said, “You had a sister then.” “Oh!” Gareth must have heard the dismay in Evin’s voice. He halted and turned back. “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have—” “No, you—Nothing. It’s—” Evin shook his head to clear it. “Nobody talks about her. It’s like she was never here. I didn’t expect you to know.” “Is that wrong? I didn’t know I was supposed to pretend—” “No, I don’t want you to pretend. It just hurt my parents so much for so long. I wish…I wish there had been somebody like you there when she needed a hero.” Gareth searched Evin’s face for a long moment. In a low, sad voice, he said, “I wasn’t a hero then. I wish I coulda been strong. I didn’t understand what was happening, and it was scary.” Lords! He had seen! Memory bloomed in Evin’s mind like a poison flower. He is ten summers old. He and Tyber are crouched by the window in the darkened workshop as night falls, spying on a group of visiting soldiers who mill about in the village square. Their captain speaks with Tyber’s father and other villagers, but as the hour grows late, the men are doing nothing really interesting. Tyber’s breath tickles warm against his temple. Everyone is occupied with the visitors, so they’ll be safe here to do the secret kissing and— Gareth said, “I didn’t know what was happening, Evin, but the people…shouting…and the light…! I had to see what it was.” A scream galvanizes Evin. He and Tyber leap apart and scramble for their clothes. A sick lump forms in his gut. He knows it would mean trouble—bad, embarrassing trouble—to get caught. But he finds no one else in the workshop, so who could have seen? Wooden beams above flicker in the light cast from a fire outside. Evin rushes to the window to peer out again, toward a bonfire in the square. Tyber asks what’s happening and what Evin sees is— “She was in the cage. Why did they trap a little girl? I couldn’t help her, Evin! I didn’t know what to do, and there were so many people.” Mama is crying, pleading with the captain. One of the soldiers holds her arm, but still she gestures, points to the cage, and inside…inside the cage, Evin’s sister, Teffaine, kneels against the bars. She reaches out and screams. Evin can’t answer

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Tyber’s question. Frozen, as if his heart and guts were plunged into a winter lake, he cannot think or speak. It can’t be true! The captain holds up a parchment with a seal, points at it, waves it at Mama. She shakes her head, she doesn’t stop shaking her head, and the soldier drags her away— “Your parents were big…and even they couldn’t…” Villagers restrain Evin’s father. He struggles, but there are too many. It’s him Teffaine reaches for, and Papa tries to reach back. The people won’t let him go to her. She can’t go to prison! This can’t be happening, they can’t— “When you ran out with that sword, that’s when I heard your name, when they tried to stop you. You were so brave…but I didn’t help at all. I wasn’t a hero. I hid in a tree. But I wanted you to save her. I did!” Evin races to his family’s cabin with his clothes still unfastened. He takes his father’s sword, which he can barely lift, and runs out to charge the man with the parchment. People are shouting at him, reaching for him, trying to stop him just like they stopped Papa. The sword is clumsy in his grasp, hard to hold up, and it makes him stagger as he dodges the grasping hands. He slips around one more soldier. Evin runs straight at the captain now, screaming and using both arms to lift the sword high. The captain turns, so slowly it seems, to look at Evin with eyes that show no surprise or concern for his fate. Evin runs as fast, roars as loudly as he can, but still everything happens so slowly. The captain’s sword slipping from its sheath. The other soldiers closing in. The heavy slams of Evin’s heart. Evin’s weapon arcing down now as the captain lifts his, flat to one side. The man’s sword hammers into Evin’s ribs, and the ground flies up to smash him in the face. Everything stops, and he can’t move or breathe, as if a stone holds him crushed to the ground. Then he can lift his head, and his body is able to make a ragged gasp for air. Another. He blinks through tears and dirt. Sees the captain stepping toward him. Glances around in desperation to find Papa’s sword. It lies just out of reach, gleaming in the firelight. Still heaving for air, Evin drags himself to his knees, lurches with an outstretched hand to get the sword. The man kicks him in the stomach, hard enough to lift him— “They took her, Evin. I’m sorry, they took her away, and I didn’t know what to do. I don’t even know why. And you were there crying and your mother came to you and I was crying and I hid in the tree all night. But I wasn’t big then, Evin. I was small like the girl! You’re not mad at me, are you?” Evin tore himself away from the memories. His vision unclouded, and he could see his friend again, hear the useless guilt in his voice. Evin moved into Gareth’s arms and held him tight, to comfort him and take comfort. When Evin could keep his voice under control, he said, “Her name was Teffaine.” “Teffaine,” Gareth murmured. His embrace became firm and reassuring. Evin laid his head against Gareth’s chemise and let himself be held.

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“We adored her. My mother was never the same…after. She used to be so happy. I know she loves me, but she’s not the same. Her brother had been taken for breaking the law, and Teffaine was taken like a tax, for the queen.” “I’m sorry.” “The people in the village—bastards!—they were happy to give her away, of course they were, because she was never theirs to give. Never… And it’s so easy now to pretend none of it ever happened. There’s nobody to talk to, so we don’t say anything.” “But why? Why did they take her?” “To use her. Like food. To take her life and give it to someone else. They call them handmaidens, the girls they take. They’re sacrificed to keep the queen alive forever.” Gareth’s only reply was a tighter embrace. “I know your secrets. I want you to keep one for me. One I can’t tell anybody else. I hate the queen for what she did to Teffaine. To my family. I hate her!” Evin’s fists were bunched and vibrating against Gareth’s back. “I hate her.” They arrived at the edge of Evin’s village at least half an hour before dawn and said their good-byes in whispers and kisses.

*** Gareth headed back, following their trail all the way to the rock ledge, carefully erasing all signs of Evin’s passage. Then he ran through the forest in the gathering light to check as many animal traps as he could manage before time to go home.

*** The next week, Evin was at work in the apothecary shop, crushing dried leaves and pouring the resulting powder into a clay jar. He probably had enough to fill that jar and one other. Johan was also working, pulling near-empty jars from the shelves and setting out the ones Evin would be adding to. Like so much of the apothecary’s work, using a mortar and pestle to grind the ingredients to fine powder occupied Evin’s hands for a time but left his mind to run free. Woolgathering, Madame Tabeau called it. He hadn’t been able to go out every night, and there were times when Gareth didn’t come to him in the woods, but those nights they did meet gave him marvelous new memories to dwell on as he did the mindless tasks. Often he would finish a job without really noticing. He’d return from woolgathering to discover an empty mortar, a full jar, and tightness in his breeches. Good thing he didn’t have to walk around much while crushing powders. Several times, he caught Johan watching him. When Madame Tabeau left the shop on an errand, Johan finally interrupted his reverie. “Tyber is looking for you.”

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“He knows he can find me here.” The constriction of his breeches faded away. “He’s working with his father today. We wonder where you’ve been, Evin.” Evin continued to crush the leaves. His mind turned from the pleasant thoughts. He needed to stop seeking Gareth at every opportunity. He needed to be ready whenever Tyber wanted him, in order to keep Gareth safe. Johan wouldn’t leave it alone. “Are you hunting on your own? It’s not safe alone. You should come hunting with us again.” “Do you miss me, Johan?” Johan blushed. “It’s not safe.” “I don’t think you’re worried about me being eaten by a boggart. You’re worried about what Tyber will make you do if I’m not there.” “Quiet! You know we can’t speak—” “No, we can’t. So stop talking.” Johan slammed a jar onto the counter and moved back to the shelves. He was a handsome lad, same age as Evin. Good at the things they did in hiding, but not kind anymore, not like Gareth. It would be too much to say Johan loved anyone, but he wanted Ysabeau more often than Tyber let him have her. Ysabeau hung on for Tyber, because she hoped to be a mayor’s wife one day. And poor little Marc adored Johan the way Evin had once adored Tyber. It was a great circle of pleasuring and misery, and no one who remained within it would ever be happy. And when it went wrong, some of them—Evin in particular—would die. But Johan could stand up to Tyber better than anyone because he hadn’t broken the law. He could make it better for himself and the others for a while, if he only understood. Evin softened his voice. “It was fun with you, Johan. When you liked me. But you got ashamed, and I know you hate me for how much you want—” “Shut up!” “Maybe I do have to do what Tyber says, but he doesn’t force you to go hunting, does he?” Johan stared at him with contempt. “You could be good again. You could protect Marc instead of doing whatever you and Tyber do to him when I’m not around.” Johan looked away and wouldn’t meet his eyes. He pretended to concentrate on his work. “You could be good to Marc. He likes you. Ysabeau doesn’t. You’ve used her up, just like you all used me up.”

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Chapter Eight Gareth met Evin again in the darkness of the forest. He was surprised to see that Evin was carrying a blanket and a pack. “What’s that stuff?” “Well…you remember the cave you took me to? I thought we could make it more comfortable. It would be a safe place to go.” “Um, I don’t know….” The cave was on Father’s land. It had been a safe place to go when Evin was hurt, but how could they dare go up on the mountain every time? Father came out sometimes at night. “Why not? You already took me onto your parents’ land once, so what’s the difference?” Gareth gasped. He had done something wrong again. Somehow he let every secret slip out. Evin put a hand on Gareth’s arm and said, “I know, I know. You couldn’t tell me, but really, I couldn’t help but guess who they are. You know I won’t tell anybody. You’re safe with me.” “I know. I just wasn’t supposed to tell nobody. I thought I could keep a secret like I’m supposed to.” “Well, I already know your biggest secrets,” Evin said with a smirk. He cupped his hand against Gareth’s crotch. Gareth closed his eyes. Just as his cock stiffened against the firm but gentle pressure of Evin’s palm, so his resistance and worry wilted away. He would keep Evin safe from anyone. Before he got any more distracted, he asked, “Want me to carry you? It’s faster.” “Yes, if you can manage while I hold on to the blanket and my bath stuff.” Bath stuff? “What’s that for? There’s no water in the cave.” “No, we have to go to the river. There’s something I want to try, if you’ll let me, but we have to wash first.” “I took a bath this morning, like always.” “I know, but trust me. You’ll see.” Evin stroked him now through the cloth of his breeches, up and down the length of his cock, warming and teasing his most sensitive flesh. That was what Evin wanted to do at the river. Bathe together and touch. Oh yes, he trusted Evin.

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And he knew of another cave on a hill near the water, farther away from Father’s game trails. “Okay,” Gareth said. “But I know a better cave, closer to the river where you camped one time.” “That sounds perfect.” After Gareth ran to the cave with Evin and the pack of equipment in his arms, they set some things out for later and took others with them to the river. At the water’s edge, Evin removed Gareth’s clothing. “Sit down on that rock,” Evin said. Gareth complied. “Now give me your foot.” “Which one?” “It doesn’t matter, silly. I’m going to do ’em both.” Evin washed Gareth’s foot and scrubbed under his toenails with a little brush. It was prickly and tickly and embarrassing, and he couldn’t keep from wiggling. But it was fun too. His cock stood as hard as the rock he sat on while Evin messed with his foot. “Your parents didn’t teach you much about how to clean yourself, did they?” “They don’t like to look at me.” “Well, I like to look at you.” Evin lifted Gareth’s foot up higher and licked it from heel to freshly cleaned toe. The heat of Evin’s tongue matched the warmth his words stirred in Gareth’s belly. “Ah, you taste good all over. Your father is Rhyd, the trapper, right?” “Yes.” “He’ll have tools to make his traps. Do you think you could borrow a really small file and make your nails like mine?” Without letting go of Gareth’s leg, Evin lifted his own foot out of the water and put it on the rock, close enough to Gareth’s balls to tease him and tickle him with wiggling toes. Gareth only needed one hand to prop himself up, so with the other he ran his fingers lightly over Evin’s feet, touching them all over. Delicate bones; soft skin; hard, tiny nails. Evin was more than perfect everywhere. “I’ll try.” Evin finished doing both feet and led Gareth deeper into the river. There he used a bladder of water to show Gareth a very personal and embarrassing part of cleaning up. After they both did that, Evin brought out some soap and scrubbed Gareth’s entire body without letting Gareth help at all except to lift his arms. After he soaped each part, he rinsed it and kissed it and stroked it with feverish hands. Every part. Evin saved Gareth’s backside for last. He massaged the back cheeks for a long time and rubbed soap all around. Evin said, “You’re ready now. I’m going to put my fingers in. Remember how I liked when you touched me there before?”

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“Uh-huh.” Evin lathered soap into Gareth’s ass and started to stroke slowly around the hole. How strange to simply stand and allow someone to kneel behind, touching there, soothing and gently stretching the ticklish skin. Strange and slippery and good. No wonder Evin liked it. Evin slicked his finger over the knot of muscle around Gareth’s opening. And pushed in. “Oh!” Evin slipped his fingertip out, then in again a little more. And again. Like Evin was scratching an itch Gareth never knew he had, only the good kind of itch, and the more Evin’s fingers stretched and probed the slick, hidden skin, the more the itch grew. Then it changed when Evin’s finger was all the way inside and Gareth got the horrible feeling that he was having a nasty accident. He wanted to tell Evin to stop. “Does that feel good?” Evin asked in a husky voice that urged him to say yes. “Uh-huh,” Gareth lied. “Can I put in another finger?” “Uh-huh…” No no! There was a more uncomfortable stretch as Evin’s second finger squeezed into him. Gareth held his breath, tried to ignore the squishy feeling and let Evin judge whether— “Oh, Gareth, you feel so good inside…!” “Yes,” Gareth lied. Evin began to wiggle his fingers around. He slowly worked them out, changed his angle, and slid them smoothly in. Deep in. And again, a few more times. Not too fast, not hurting him, but not slow anymore, not at all. Then Evin touched something inside that stabbed Gareth’s whole body with the feeling of making seed. He shuddered and gasped for breath. “All…saints! What are you…?” His cock leaped up, fully hard, and the good itch was back everywhere Evin’s skin touched his own. Especially there, the hidden place Evin had found. “Sh!” Evin said, and he began to grind his fingers in, working the sides and depths of the hole, touching him in powerful and tender ways, sending wave after wave of those feelings hammering through… Gareth’s back would no longer hold him up. He bent over double, hands on his knees, face almost in the water. Helpless. Only conscious of his desire for Evin to do more and touch him deeper. To scratch the itch and never stop. But Evin paused. “Let’s finish up here and do more of that in the cave.” “Yes,” Gareth said. His voice came out like the squeak of a rusty cage’s hinge.

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Once they were both cleaned to Evin’s satisfaction, they stepped carefully on smooth, wet river rocks to get to their boots. They put them on, and then Evin carried their clothing and supplies up and into the cave. There, Evin directed Gareth to spread out a blanket, and they lay together on it. Evin’s hot breath warmed Gareth’s chest. Without a word, Evin began to lick Gareth’s nipples until they stood up hard and Gareth gave voice to gasps and groans of delight. Evin nibbled and sucked at Gareth’s nipples, driving him delirious again with desire. Then he lifted his head and looked into Gareth’s eyes. As Gareth watched, Evin raised two fingers to his lips and stuck them in, licked them, and wet them with spit. Seeing it made the want, the good itch, so strong Gareth thought he might die if Evin didn’t scratch it now. Gareth spread his legs wide to expose himself. “Oh, Evin, please.” Evin eased those fingers in and began again to stretch and probe and wriggle deliciously inside of Gareth’s body while gazing defiantly into his eyes. Gareth threw his head back, making guttural sounds to express gratitude and beg for more. Evin mastered his body, fingers slipping silkily in and out, kneading the skin of his hole and rubbing the place inside that made him quiver, melt, and gasp. “Yes,” Evin said. “Keep begging for it. You’re making me so hard!” Evin rolled closer, and the drooling head of his cock touched Gareth’s hip, where it rubbed in little circles, smearing hot wetness on his skin. Evin’s kisses trailed along his shoulder, neck, jaw. He met Evin’s lips with his own. When Gareth’s lips opened to receive him, Evin pressed in as deeply and firmly as possible with his tongue and slick fingers. Gareth shuddered and clenched, coiled up against Evin, and uttered a strangled cry of pleasure into his mouth. Mouth and ass invaded together, Gareth was dominated. He shuddered as Evin touched the core of him, tongue and fingers reaching in to fill him with heat and joy. More joy than ever existed in the whole world. Like daylight warming him inside. He couldn’t breathe. The world ceased to exist, and Gareth with it. All that remained were touch, taste, and the heat inside.

*** Gareth returned to the world gasping for air, hearing Evin do the same. They took lungfuls, but Gareth couldn’t bear the separation. He put his hands on the back of Evin’s head and pulled him down again, into a desperate kiss. He needed to be part of Evin, needed to show how much he wanted to give everything back. As their tongues jousted, Evin resumed thrusting fingers in deep and hard, curling them to touch him just right, and he was helpless again. His hands slid away from Evin’s head. Evin broke the kiss, and they could breathe. He withdrew until just his fingertips were playing inside of Gareth’s hole. The strokes gentled again, and Gareth relaxed, contented by Evin’s touch as their breathing slowed.

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And just as he was drifting in that contentment, Evin shocked him by asking, “Are you ready for me to go deeper?” “Can you really? How?” Evin got to his knees and, feeling his way in the darkness, moved between Gareth’s legs. He placed his hands behind Gareth’s thighs and lifted. Gareth complied by pulling his legs back, showing himself to Evin. Evin couldn’t see, of course, and had to use his fingers to find Gareth’s opening again. Evin spat into his hand and started stroking his own cock. “I’m going to put it in you, okay? I’m going to be like one of the animals and fuck you now, as deep as I can. Okay?” “Please, Evin!” “Don’t worry. A baby won’t come out because you’re not a girl.” Evin moved forward until the tip of his cock just pressed into the flesh around Gareth’s hole. “Ohhhhh!” Gareth moaned when the tip nudged against him. It was as if some strange energy existed at those two points of their bodies, poised all their lives to release incredible joy at that moment of mere contact. Evin had said Gareth’s body was cold, but to him, Evin’s body was feverish. The cock tip burning Evin’s mark into Gareth’s ass was as wonderful as the sunlight he craved. Evin rocked just a bit, adding slight pressure that teased and relaxed Gareth’s body. So good, the tip massaging his hole and making him want more. But Evin continued with tender and agonizing slowness, pressing in. Gareth’s opening stretched wider, yielding to welcome the slick tip. Evin paused just inside. Gareth wiggled his body a bit to feel the head move and poke around. “Ah, dear saints, it feels so good! Thank you, thank you, Evin, oh thank you.” Evin slowly but firmly pressed deeper and deeper, and Gareth felt every inch of the burning flesh sliding in, stretching him, and filling him up until Evin’s hips crushed against Gareth’s ass. He was run through. His insides were stretched and quivering in a mix of pain and joy. Trying to squeeze and desperate to hold on to the warm, impaling flesh. Evin was wearing him. Like a strong hand in a tight glove. He barely had time to adjust to the bursting feeling before Evin began to drag himself back out. Gareth whimpered when just the tip remained inside, then gasped as Evin pushed back in again, a little faster this time. Evin began a slow rhythm of driving into Gareth’s hungry ass and drawing out almost all the way. He’s fucking me. The word felt right. Everything felt right. “Oh yes, so good, so good,” Evin said. Gareth wanted all he could get. “More, oh! Deeper, oh!” he said in time to the thrusts. Evin changed the angle, leaned forward, and ground in deeper. Waves of

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that feeling like making seed shot through Gareth’s body, and he could never get enough. Evin started to move faster, bracing by holding Gareth’s legs, grunting and biting his lip. He was sweating and panting, and he pushed deep in one more time and held there. “I’m spilling!” Evin said. “Ohhhhhh!” Molten liquid gushed into Gareth once, twice, three times. Evin shuddered against him, emptying into him, suffusing his body with a warmth that, far from relaxing, made him more desperate for everything Evin could give. I have another mouth, and I’m drinking him. Evin bucked, and Gareth clenched again and again, imagining his body swallowing all that Evin could pour in, always greedy for more. The thought inflamed his desire. When Evin relaxed, Gareth was unable to control himself. “Come here,” he said, tugging on Evin’s hand. Evin untangled from between his legs, moved up to sit on his belly, and leaned in for a ragged, animal kiss. Gareth wrapped his hands around Evin’s hips and pushed down. Evin understood. He moved to let the tip of Gareth’s cock touch his hole. Again the pleasure of contact arced between their bodies. “Wait, I’ve got to do this,” Evin said, and spat in his hand again. Gareth took Evin’s wrist and brought the cupped hand to his lips. He added a slick glob of his own spit to mix in Evin’s palm. Plenty. Evin giggled and reached back to work the spit into himself. He slicked Gareth’s prodding cock and fitted the tip back against his hole. He bit his bottom lip as he used his hand to angle Gareth’s cock up and mount it. Gareth watched in amazement. Part of him disappeared bit by bit into the flesh between Evin’s legs. Nothing existed but that joining: the tight hole sliding slowly to engulf him, the tensing and relaxing of muscle as Evin’s body worked to take him in, and the moans and gasps of the youth crouching over him, face contorted in passion and pleasure. He hadn’t understood before how Evin, such a perfect one, could think Gareth was beautiful, but this sight of his green flesh slowly swallowed into the pink body of one who wanted this, wanted to open up and take him inside, wanted him—this was beautiful. Too soon, the tiny hairs of Evin’s ass tickled at the base of his cock, and then Evin’s bones ground down on him and his cock prodded as far as it would go into that feverish body. An expression of pure delight radiated from Evin’s face. He closed his eyes as he shifted and wiggled and moaned a bit. Gareth again imagined quivery, stretchy bands of flesh, but this time he was the one surrounded in the soft, wet heat. His drooling cock was teased and squeezed and milked as Evin ground against him and clenched. Evin grunted and started slowly to lift himself off.

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Urgency seized Gareth. He wrapped his hands around Evin’s ass and physically lifted Evin up a few inches. Then he imitated Evin’s earlier fucking motion by lifting his own hips, pushing himself in deep, and lowering back to the blanket. He started to move in a rhythm, fucking up into Evin’s bottom, careful not to hurt Evin with his hands or his stabbing cock. Faster, faster. Everything Evin had done filled him with the want to make seed now. Evin kept his eyes closed and murmured, “Higher. Up, up,” and Gareth lifted the little body enough that his downstrokes would just barely leave the flaring head of his cock inside. The sensation of Evin’s burning, gripping ass devouring his cock drove him ever more urgently, and soon he was nearly punishing Evin’s hole with the force of his fucking. He wanted to spill. He wanted to put his seed into Evin. Evin’s head lolled, and because Gareth was supporting his entire weight, he could caress his body with one hand and pump his rehardening cock with the other. “I love it. I love it,” Evin said between gasps. Gareth thrust in all the way, then pulled out and jiggled his head just inside Evin. Tickling the flare of his head against the lip of Evin’s hole made shards of joy shoot through his cock and balls and ass. But that was nothing compared to the thrill of watching Evin’s reaction. He rammed in again. “Oh, Gareth, I love it!” The feeling of his cock hammering at just the right spot in Evin’s body made Gareth’s insides tighten, and he fucked even faster. His cock got harder and strained to reach deeper. He’d get relief soon. He was about to spray into Evin’s guts. “Oh, I’m gonna go again!” Evin stroked himself frantically, and his muscles twitched and clenched around Gareth’s cock. “Unnngh! Aaaah!” Burning drops of seed rained onto Gareth’s face and chest. Gareth groaned too as he pushed himself deep up into Evin, whose hole locked tight around him. His cock surged and shot blast after blast, and Gareth started to buck. Evin gasped in laughter. His fingers dug into Gareth’s chest as he held on. Gareth’s bucking settled into little jerks and shudders, and still he held Evin’s hips, keeping Evin’s ass crushed to his groin, letting his cock empty completely into Evin. Gareth was still hard when he caught his breath, so he lifted Evin back up a bit and gently fucked him a few minutes more, never looking away from the serene smile on Evin’s face. He never wanted it to end. When he finally did begin to soften, he pulled out slowly. Along with his cock, a puddle of thick seed came splashing onto him. “Sorry,” Evin said sheepishly. “I think you flooded me.” Gareth laughed at the thought of Evin, clean inside and out, filled with it like a water skin. “I’m glad. I can clean you up.”

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“What do you mean?” With his hands still gripping Evin’s waist, Gareth lifted Evin bodily up and moved him forward until he could lower Evin’s dripping ass to his face. Then he began tenderly to lap up his own juice. “Oh, that feels nice….” Evin said. Gareth’s heart swelled at the contented sighs and moans Evin made as he continued to lave and swallow, dip and swirl his tongue around. He wanted to soothe Evin’s body after treating it so roughly. He groaned in happiness as he licked out his own seed. After eating all he could get, he tipped Evin over to the side and moved to lick off Evin’s cock and abdomen. Evin touched a wet hand to Gareth’s lips, and he cleaned that off too. As he did these things for Evin, he was already calling to mind everything they had just done, reliving it and trying to memorize every instant. He had never been so happy before, and he didn’t want to ever forget the least part of what they had done here. Just the thought of Evin begging him to hold him up, higher up, and then—what had he said? “What were you saying, just then?” Evin’s voice was sleepy. “Hm? What, when?” “Just when I was sticking inside you. Before you said I flooded you.” He waited while Evin thought back. “You mean when I said I loved it, the way you were fucking me?” “Yeah, what’s that mean?” “It means…I had a good time.” Then: “You don’t know what it means to love something?” “I just hadn’t never heard that word before, is all.” “Oh. Well, you know what it is when you like stuff, right? Well, when you love something, it means you like it better than the best thing ever.” “Oh, like you,” Gareth said lightly, then froze. He wasn’t sure it was okay to say such things about people. “Like me, what?” This was embarrassing. He had to answer now, and it seemed important, but maybe it was going to sound stupid. His throat tried to close, so he forced the words out. “Like you are. B-better than the best thing ever.” Evin laughed gently and stroked his hair. It must be okay. He closed his eyes and lay there, enjoying Evin’s touch. They remained in a contented embrace until it was time to dress and go home.

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Chapter Nine Gareth next met Evin two nights later. Evin brought his lantern this time, and also some rags, which he wet after they cleaned up at the river. When they made it to the cave, he set up and unhooded the lantern. “We’re always in the dark, and you can see everything. I want to see you too.” He spread their blankets out before the lantern and asked Gareth to kneel there, naked in the light. With his hands and eyes, Evin explored Gareth’s front all over as if for the first time. “You look dark in the moonlight. I can tell you’re green, but the true color…” He stretched Gareth’s arm out, exposing the flesh of his forearm and palm to the light, and ran his pink fingers over it. “Could your skin be made out of the same stuff as leaves? But it’s so soft.” “I don’t know.” Why couldn’t anyone let him forget? Evin kissed his shoulder. “You sound sad. I’m embarrassing you.” “I can’t answer nothing. I don’t know why I’m—” The words wrong and ugly both tried to come out first, but he wasn’t sure anymore. He trusted Evin, and Evin would say… “Different.” “Different.” Evin released Gareth’s arm and ran his hands over Gareth’s back and belly at the same time, up high and then down low enough to tickle the base of his cock and the base of his spine at once. “You mean extra especially wonderful. Nobody has skin so beautiful as yours.” “You do.” Gareth turned and pulled Evin into a kiss. “Mmmmm.” Gareth got hard, and the examination didn’t seem so bad after that. When they finally lay down on the blankets, Evin surprised Gareth by using the cold, wet rags to wash their feet all over again. Then with all preparations finally done, Evin lay atop Gareth, tickling Gareth with his fuzz, and they kissed deeply. Evin gazed into Gareth’s eyes and said, “You’re beautiful. A miracle.” They kissed again. “You’re better at this than any of the others.” “Do…you think they might like me?” Evin laughed. “They’d love to watch you spray your seed. Lords! And they’d like to use your hole. But…I think they’d be afraid of your cock. You might want to put it in them.” “They don’t like that?”

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“Ha! I bet they would, but they won’t try. It’s a sin, and if anyone finds out… Well, that’s what happened to my uncle. That’s why they took him away. They caught him letting the priest fish him out and took him. There’s a law against ‘usurping the natural place of the woman.’” “Priest? Fish? I don’t understand.” Evin collapsed against Gareth. “Ah, I never know what it is you don’t know! Okay. The village has a church. Inside, a priest speaks, telling the people what’s good and what’s bad. Does that make sense?” “No, but he’s someone like the mayor, right? People listen to him?” “Yes. Until he gets caught fishing out one of the boys; then they don’t listen to him anymore. The church—the church people he works for—they move him somewhere else, and a new priest comes for people to listen to.” “That’s… Why?” “Well, I don’t know why they listen. Anyway. ‘Fishing out’ is what we did last time. Fucking. Have you ever seen someone catching fish in the river? You use a pole for that, you see.” He made his point obvious by reaching back and wiggling Gareth’s cock, slapping it against his own crack. “So we both broke the law last time?” Evin looked away. “Yes. I should have told you, but…you’re hiding anyway. If people will kill you just because you’re alive, it doesn’t matter whether you break any laws, does it?” “No. I’m not mad. When you put your fingers in… It was weird at first, but then…now…” Gareth’s eyes defocused, and he started to squirm a bit at the memory of Evin touching him inside. “I love it too. I love everything you can do to me.” An ugly thought intruded, and Gareth snapped back to focus on Evin’s face. “That’s why you do stuff with the others.” “What? No! You think I want everybody to put stuff inside of me?” “No, it’s because Tyber… If you don’t do that stuff for him, he’ll tell, won’t he?” Evin rolled off Gareth so that they both lay flat on their backs, side by side. Evin stared up at the cave’s roof, where the lantern’s light played. “You have to understand. Tyber’s father is the mayor, the person who leads our town. That makes Tyber important. A leader to the boys. Way back when I was, like, nine summers, Tyber was my favorite person. We were friends, I guess, but I just loved him. Then I did something stupid, and suddenly everybody made fun of me.” “What was it?” “Well, one day, this girl, Ysabeau, comes up and gives Tyber a flower, and he acts like it is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for him. And Ysabeau holds her face up to him, and he kisses her, just like that! And they’re hugging and talking and flirting…you know.”

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Gareth didn’t know what flirting was, but he imagined it had to do with making seed. “So I’m jealous of Ysabeau, and the next day when she’s not there, I find the nicest flower I could get my hands on—stole it from Madame Tabeau’s flower box— and I march myself up and give the flower to Tyber, right in front of our friends.” “And that was stupid?” “Of course. He threw it down and stomped it and all the boys laughed at me and I ran home to hide.” “Because of a flower?” “No, because giving it meant I liked him. He came by my house later on and apologized, said he liked me and we could kiss if I wanted, but we had to keep it secret.” “He wasn’t mean…in secret.” “No, he was good at first. We tried more stuff, and he liked it. We both liked it a lot. Then he asked me to do stuff for a friend of his, and then another. Before I knew it, I was a stupid pet for the whole group. Then one of them managed to do stuff with Ysabeau, and suddenly nobody liked me anymore.” “I’m sorry.” “It’s okay. It wasn’t long before they were talking nasty about Ysabeau too. I feel sorry for her. They use her just as they use me. I think they have more fun with me. I can do things they really like, and they kind of hate me because they want it so much.” Gareth had seen for himself. He didn’t know what to say, but Evin had shown him how people touch when they want to make things better. Because it was all he knew to do, he turned and laid a hand against Evin’s cheek. “You guessed right about why I go with Tyber,” Evin said. “Mama and Papa have had enough after what happened to my uncle and losing Teffaine. I made my mistake, letting Tyber have me when I was young and stupid. And now he has me. He’s the mayor’s son. If he starts talking about how I let the others… I can’t do it. I won’t hurt my parents. Not more.” “You’ll protect them.” “You know… I’m sorry… I’ll have to be with Tyber and the others again.” He turned to look at Gareth. “I’ll have to go on another hunting trip soon. I wish I could take you too. I don’t want to leave you out of the fun. What fun there is…” “But I have to be a secret.” Gareth wasn’t bitter; that was just the way the world worked. “In truth, I’m selfish. I like having you as my secret. But I’d share you, you know. I would, if it were safe for you.” Gareth’s chest did something. A feeling, like something broke off inside. He tried to keep his voice neutral. “No. It’s better. You have to do stuff with them.” “You’d like Johan; he’s better inside than me. He can take a long time.”

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“No! There’s—I don’t know how to say…” “What is it?” Evin propped up on an elbow and leaned in to look him in the eye. “It’s—I won’t miss nothing with them. I don’t care. You—” He swallowed. “You protect your parents, however you got to. But you’ll come back to me, won’t you? Sometimes?” “Yes, yes, of course!” Evin crushed against him and covered his face with kisses, speaking a word or two between each one to say, “Silly! How could you think I’d forget you?” “Then it’s good, then. It’s just—these feelings…the good ones and doing stuff… It’s always been with you. Even before you knew me, I never felt none of this without you.” Evin looked stricken. “Oh. You.” Then he kissed Gareth deeply. He lifted away and looked into Gareth’s eyes. “You poor, stupid bastard. You make me want to die to make you happy.” Despite the ugly words, Evin smiled at him in a soft way that seemed to promise there would be many, many next times. Gareth said, “You make me happy by living.” Instead of responding with words, Evin moved to kneel, straddling Gareth’s body, showing Gareth his back. He leaned toward Gareth’s cock. Gareth sighed as hot, wet softness enveloped him. Evin licked forcefully around the edge of his cockhead. And again and again until his legs twitched. Just when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, Evin pulled off and Gareth heard a wet sound. In a lascivious demonstration, Evin’s right hand appeared, fingers glistening, reaching to stroke Evin’s hole. “Let me. Let me!” Gareth said and licked his own fingers. All Gareth could see of Evin were his thighs and ass, covered with that almost invisible fur, offered for the taking. The green of his hands looked so dark against the soft, white skin. He cupped Evin’s ass, fingertips in the crease, touching it with shy reverence. Evin’s muscles clenched. His body closed and relaxed, like swallowing, inviting Gareth in. With one thick finger, he circled around the hole, just as he might have stroked Evin’s lips with his tongue, and he pressed a little to watch the skin stretch as he rotated his finger in lazy circles around it. The soft cheeks fit perfectly in Gareth’s palms. Evin moaned an encouragement. Evin’s body was pressed down against his stiff cock, and just that, just the burn of Evin’s body heat against it, was enough for him. He would use fingers to make Evin feel good all night if that was Evin’s wish. But it seemed Evin had other plans. He urged Gareth to bend his knee. Then Evin grasped Gareth’s foot and pulled it up until his heel nestled in his balls. Evin held the base of Gareth’s cock and gently pointed it down. Gareth hissed in surprised pleasure when the tip of his cock rubbed against the tough whorls of skin on the sole of his foot. Evin began to lick the bottom of his foot, letting a cheek press the tip of Gareth’s tingling cock into the sole’s soft flesh covered by such rough skin.

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Gareth brought his hand back to his lips to wet his fingers some more, then lowered them back to Evin’s hole. He put one finger in, just inside—Evin moaned and arched up, then dipped his face back down to Gareth’s foot—and pressed in deeper. He wanted to give Evin the same feelings that had made him feel helpless, boneless, racked with pleasure that time at the river. Evin was licking between toes now, sliding his tongue frantically in and out. Gareth took that as instruction and began to slip his finger in and out of Evin’s hole. “Oh, you like that, Evin. You like to feel me touch inside.” “Lords, yes, Gareth, please!” Two fingers now, together as fat as the base of his cock. He stroked them in and out of the furnace of Evin’s body. Evin moved slowly forward and back. His mouth closed first around Gareth’s large toe to lick and suck on it, then the tip of his cock. He alternated this way, bringing Gareth’s senses so alive that he thought he could actually feel his cock drooling for Evin to taste. He savored the slow feel of liquid forced gently down the length of him, and that, too, he took as instruction. He slowed his frantic stroking, began to move fingers languidly, turning them to probe, crooking them, trying to find that spot— “Oh!” Found it. He made measured strokes, reaching in each time to touch Evin just right. And Evin wanted it! He pushed back to fuck himself on Gareth’s fingers. Evin rubbed his own cock against Gareth’s torso, leaving hot liquid trails, and it seemed his mouth couldn’t lick or suck Gareth enough: toe, cock, foot, ankle, toe. Gareth’s cock strained to surge up, to push Evin’s body off because the weird foot thing was going to make him shoot— Evin stopped. Gareth froze with his fingers buried deep inside. “What are you…?” “You’re too close to spilling. Not yet. I want to try something.” He reached behind to push Gareth’s hand away, then crawled backward to put his ass in Gareth’s face. Of course Gareth happily began to lick. Evin gasped, and a little splash of liquid rolled from him onto Gareth’s chest. Then he moved back again, taking his ass away and letting his cock dangle so that Gareth could engulf the head to catch and lick a few drops. “Oh, I won’t last long like this,” Evin said, and to Gareth’s frustration, he pulled his cock out and took that away too. Evin urged Gareth to lift his legs up until Evin could catch them, then pulled them back until Gareth’s ass was high in the air. “Does this hurt? Tell me when to stop.” Evin pulled him over until his weight rested on his shoulders and he was bent double, knees on the ground at either side of his head, his ass presented to Evin. Evin lifted Gareth’s cock from where it poked his chest and stuck the end of it in Gareth’s mouth.

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“Oh, lords, I thought you could do that.” Evin bent down and pressed into his mouth, kissing him and licking his cock tip. Gareth did the same, wiggling his tongue, stroking Evin’s tongue and, all saints, his own self at the same time. He closed his eyes in ecstasy. Evin lifted off, barely an inch away, fiery breath washing across Gareth’s face, and said, “I like you in every way, but this is best. We should keep your cock in your mouth always so you can’t apologize for anything anymore.” Gareth thrilled to that idea—but did that mean he annoyed Evin? “Mm phorry,” he said. Evin knelt between his awkwardly splayed legs and dipped his face in to lick Gareth’s sac and balls and slowly, slowly to Gareth’s hole. “You’re so beautiful. No hair, just perfect, smooth green skin.” Another lick. “I want you to try something, will you? While I take care of you here”—his tongue pressed in—“I want you to suck yourself. But when you think you’re almost going to make seed”—another lick—“I want you to stop. Wait. And when you can do it again, suck some more.” Another lick, slow and deep this time. “Do that over and over, for a long time.”

*** From the cave mouth he saw them. He had spied and followed and been stealthy, and he found them together. Evin with the monster. He was disgusted with himself for getting hard as he watched them, Evin putting his face into that thing’s backside, the demon moaning and chewing on its own filthy sex. His breathing became as shallow as theirs, and after a time, he couldn’t help it, he was going to wet in his breeches if he didn’t… He slinked out into the night, away from the grisly spectacle, as quietly as he could manage, hoping the friction of his own clothing wouldn’t make him spill here, where the demon might hear or smell it. Out in the woods away from the cave, he took himself in hand. With only a couple of strokes, he was spurting so hard it hurt. His breathing was ragged. That monster! He left, picking his way carefully through the night forest.

*** After what seemed like delirious hours, sucking himself almost too much while Evin tongued him or stuck fingers in to stroke him in that perfect place, he couldn’t stand it any longer. Something was swelling inside him, all that time, always threatening to burst. He had followed Evin’s order to wait, to control it each time. But it was too big now, and the good itch of wanting had radiated through him until his entire body crackled with it. He couldn’t control it anymore. Gareth closed his lips around his cock and started to move his hips as best he could to thrust into his mouth. Evin, of course, knew instantly and, leaving fingers curled inside him, bent down to Gareth’s face. Gareth was breathing heavily, nostrils flaring, looking up

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into Evin’s eyes in desperation as he got closer…and his cock swelled and grew harder in his mouth… “That’s good,” Evin said. “You’re so good. You’re good at everything we try.” Ignoring Gareth’s distress, Evin leaned in and kissed him on the forehead. “When you spill”— all saints, please—“open your mouth so we can share.” The swelling thing in his body exploded. Gareth’s cock surged and sprayed into his mouth, drowning his choked cry. He arched a little, pulling the tip back out, but held it aimed at his mouth. He opened wide and held his breath, hoping he wouldn’t fill his nose and drown. Evin was there to drink too. Strong spurts shot against Gareth’s palate again and again. He stretched his tongue out, trying to catch it all. Evin hovered in to lick the tip of his spitting cock, then up its length to where Gareth held it, then back down to lick Gareth’s mouth, tongue, teeth. It was hard to swallow bent over like that, and Gareth couldn’t keep up. Seed ran over his cheeks, down his neck, and into his hair. But he wanted it, oh, it was so good, and he closed his mouth back over the tip and tried his best to catch the last of it. When he was himself again, blinking up at Evin’s wet grin and feeling the finger working inside him, he flexed his back muscles enough to lift his cock out and say, “Go ahead, I want you inside me or in my mouth, whatever you want, Evin, anything.” But Evin just burst out laughing. “What?” “Don’t be stupid. I sprayed all over the dirt watching you!”

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Chapter Ten Bad weather moved in for the next few days, summer storms that kept Evin from meeting Gareth in the woods. Actually, as gloomy as the thought was, Evin imagined that Gareth was out there each night, somewhere in the rain, waiting in case Evin should show up. Wouldn’t that be just like him? Evin sighed. He lay on his bed in the loft of his parents’ cabin. He didn’t want to get up to go to the shop. He loved his work with the apothecary and wanted to learn everything Madame Tabeau could teach—which was a great deal. It seemed his tutelage would take forever. Madame Tabeau said people knew more than ever about the effects of plants and minerals on the body, due to sinister reasons. Some of them were useful in the rituals of blood sorcelry. Medicines might make a person’s blood thick as honey, make it flow like water, or make it concentrate in specific body parts to enhance the sorceler’s or victim’s physical or mental stamina. Madame Tabeau was disgusted by the reasons for which certain medicines were developed, but she knew everything about them and put them all to use to help people. She said no medicine was good or evil, but she expected Evin to learn to respect them and never use them to cause harm. Yes, he had much to learn, but he still wanted to spend the dark and lonely day in bed. His heart just wasn’t in the work today. Apparently Johan’s mood was the same, because he hadn’t come to ask for work in the shop since the rains began. Evin looked out his window, toward the dreary morning sky. “Go away,” he said to the clouds. His gaze dropped to the objects he had found wedged in the shutters when he opened the window today. They lay now beside his bed. He picked them up and idly rotated them in his fingers as his mind turned to thoughts of his plan. The plan. After completing his apprenticeship, he would go to a city and open an apothecary shop of his own. At least one, maybe more. He would become wealthy, return to Laforet to repay a debt his father owed to the mayor, and then move his parents far away. And neither Tyber nor his family would ever trouble them again. He didn’t hate Tyber, certainly not, but Tyber had used him since before he was old enough to be used that way, and Evin had long ago realized that it would never end. So he planned. He excelled at his work, he was a good student, and Madame Tabeau adored him. One day he would have money. One day his family would escape. Everything made sense.

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At least it did a few weeks ago, when everything in life either fit into the plan or was part of the ugliness he would leave behind. He stopped twirling the figures he held. He stood the straw men on his chest and gazed at the larger of the two, as if it could offer an answer to the problem it represented. Now Evin had something that wasn’t ugly. He had met someone who needed a friend and an escape just as much as he, if not more. Sure, Gareth might use him and turn on him just like the others, but that hadn’t happened yet and it didn’t seem to be in Gareth’s nature. What if it never happened? Could Evin abandon someone who needed him so? If not, was there some way to fit Gareth into the plan?

*** A marvelous full moon reigned in the sky on the first night after the storms ended. Evin wanted to walk a little, instead of being carried all the way to the cave. He had to step carefully in the shadows of the woods, so Gareth led slowly, walking to suit Evin’s pace. Every so often, Evin made a show of stumbling and bumping into Gareth, letting Gareth steady him with a firm hand. They both laughed each time. After doing this for a while, Evin put a hand on Gareth’s shoulder to stop him, then took the hem of Gareth’s chemise and lifted it, urging him to take it off. When that was done, Evin kissed his back and shoulders. Evin worshiped the soft, cold skin tenderly at first, then gripped Gareth’s shoulders and pressed in with fierce kisses as Gareth sighed and leaned back. When they resumed walking, Evin carried Gareth’s chemise and took off his own as well. As they moved through the forest, Evin watched light and shadow ripple across Gareth’s torso, playing over the broad planes of his shoulder blades. Shadow emphasized the deep spinal cleft formed by thick muscles that drew down to where the small of his back peeked out above his breeches. Dapples of light raced across his dark skin, caressing it and revealing its beauty in teasing hints, the way Evin remembered from seeing him for the first time. Evin wanted to push Gareth down, tear his breeches off, and take him right there in the woods. What he actually did was reach out, grab the top of those breeches, and pull Gareth to a halt. When Gareth turned toward him, grinning, he leaped into Gareth’s arms. Thick hands caught him under his ass as he wrapped his legs around to hold on tight. Powerful arms pulled him in even more tightly, and they kissed. Evin started slowly, kissing and nibbling Gareth’s lips. Gareth’s response was gentle at first, but soon he was licking Evin’s lips hungrily and forcing his tongue

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in. Their tongues wrestled tenderly, pressing and stroking, exploring, and trying to push in deeper still. Evin wanted to get closer, to meld with that kiss until each could become part of the other’s body. They pulled apart to breathe. Evin said, “I just can’t get enough of you!” “I think about you all day. I can’t think of nothing else.” “I know. I’m the same.” “Sometimes I think of things that can’t never happen.” Me too. “Well, hush, none of that now. Plenty can happen tonight, right?” Gareth smiled. “Yes. I’ll even ask for stuff too. You’ll be proud of me.” “Will I? I’m not sure…” Evin lowered his voice to a sultry purr. “Convince me. What are you gonna ask me to do later?” “I, um… I want you to spill inside me again…if you like.” Evin grinned. “Yes, I would. You better put me down so we can go get started.” But when Gareth set him on his feet, instead of walking away, Evin reached down and untied Gareth’s breeches. He slid his hand in the front, feeling the soft, taut skin of Gareth’s abdomen. Farther down, he touched the base of Gareth’s cock and used his palm to caress its full length. It stiffened quickly, tenting the leg of Gareth’s breeches. “Ugh, now I’ll be rubbing it while I walk,” Gareth said in mock complaint. “I like the sound of that. Want me to help?” “I think you done your part already.” Before Evin could say more, Gareth took Evin into his arms and rubbed their hips together. He left his breeches untied and just held them up with one hand. “Mmmm,” Evin said, “Now I’ll get to walk funny too.” “Fair is fair.”

*** Before leaving the woods, Gareth glanced around warily. Evin waited, unable to look away from where Gareth’s ass rose above the breeches he barely wore, held up by his clenched fist. Evin could hardly restrain himself; he wanted so much to lick Gareth from the small of the back down into that smooth cleft. But he would have to be patient. They had to get some stuff from the cave and go wash. After a minor eternity, Gareth was satisfied that they could move into the open, and they started up the dusty hill toward the rock shelf at the mouth of their cave. Gareth looked back, saw that Evin was watching his ass flex as they climbed, and slid his breeches a little farther down. Evin’s foot slipped on a loose rock, for real this time. “Shit!” They both laughed. They continued up. Gareth played a little game, sliding the back side of his breeches up and down to keep Evin mesmerized. A part of Evin’s brain realized with warm surprise that Gareth finally understood how desirable he was. But it

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was a small part. Mostly Evin was thinking about what it would be like when he could get those breeches off altogether. Touching here, kissing there, and entering… Gareth arrived first at the lip of the shelf. He stopped and turned around to let Evin see him from the front. Moonlight bathed his unearthly skin. The wide chest with dark nipples; muscle in rippling cords across his rib cage and in tight bunches over his stomach; the gentle, hairless swell of his lower abdomen; and—just at Evin’s eye level—a glimpse of Gareth’s cock revealed by the open breeches. Evin’s heart thudded hard, like getting punched in the chest. It took his breath away, and he froze up for a moment. Gareth was free, open, sensual, and standing before him, waiting for his touch. Evin barely registered the look of undisguised adoration on Gareth’s face: His gaze was captured by the tantalizing pubic flesh. He wanted to press his face there, breathe Gareth in, and cover the taut abdomen with kisses. Evin started to climb. A sound came then, like a sharp intake of breath ending in a hard, wet thump. Surprised, Evin looked up to search for Gareth’s eyes, but what he saw was impossible: a stick reached out from Gareth’s chest, pointing up to the sky. Gareth stepped backward, looking down at it. Confused. The sound came again, ending with a crack as another stick hit a rock and snapped. Pieces rebounded from the point of impact. Not a stick, Evin realized. An arrow. He rushed forward to herd Gareth toward the safety of the cave. But Gareth just stood there, confounded, as if beginning to realize he was hurt before feeling it. People ran out of the woods now, yelling. At the sound of their approach, Gareth came back to the moment just as Evin reached him and tried to get him moving. Despite being shocked and wounded, Gareth grabbed Evin’s shoulder and pushed him behind to shield him from the attackers. Then, with a sob of fear or pain, Gareth ripped the arrow out of his own chest. Evin saw them: A man—Nicolas!—scrambled up the hill while trying to hold an ax ready to swing. Behind him, Tyber followed, brandishing a sword. “No, stop!” Evin tried to move between Nicolas and Gareth, but a green arm snapped back to block and shove him, reeling, away from harm. “Run, Evin!” Gareth said. Nicolas reached Gareth. Without asking for surrender or giving any warning, Nicolas brought the ax down in a powerful swing. Gareth moved into the arc and caught Nicolas’s hand with his own open palm. Nicolas fumbled the ax, and as it fell, it struck Gareth a glancing blow on the head. Blood splashed, but he didn’t fall. He kicked Nicolas in the stomach. Nicolas tumbled down the hill. Gareth moved back from the lip to snatch up the ax. Another arrow hit the ground close by. Evin scrambled farther away, then circled toward the edge of the rock shelf to see if he could find the archer. Tyber made it over the edge and advanced on Gareth, sneering. “Filthy thing.”

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“Go away! You can’t hurt me.” Blood from the head wound ran into Gareth’s eyes. He swiped a hand across his face and flicked drops of it away. Tyber stepped in, swinging the sword in threatening arcs. Such hatred contorted his face that he was almost unrecognizable. Evin tore his gaze away from them to look down the slope. Marc clambered up the hill as fast as he could. A bow and quiver were slung on his back. And Johan followed as well, carrying another ax. Evin looked for a loose rock or anything he could use as a weapon. Gareth and Tyber circled each other. The sword stroked back and forth. Gareth’s face was blank as he watched for Tyber’s attack. “Filthy thing, gonna die.” “Please, just leave us alone, Tyber. I won’t—” Tyber lanced in with the sword and managed to cut Gareth deeply in the arm holding the ax. “Aaaaaah!” Evin wanted to run to Gareth, but Marc arrived. Evin had lost his chance to find a weapon, but somehow he had to stop the others from joining Tyber. He stepped to block Marc and Johan with his body. “Leave him alone! He hasn’t done anything wrong.” “Get out of the way, Evin,” Marc said. Johan didn’t wait for a reply but used his ax handle to clout Evin on the head in passing. Evin uttered a strangled cry as pain eclipsed all else for a moment. He staggered, and Marc pushed him away. Evin put his hands to his head to keep it from splitting open. Just like when Tyber had knocked him out in the workshop. But this time he wouldn’t be weak, couldn’t be weak, because Gareth needed him. Pain receded enough to let him open watering eyes. Tyber feinted and then sliced for Gareth’s neck, but Gareth ducked low. The ax lay at Gareth’s feet and one of his arms hung uselessly. While still bent down, Gareth snatched the ax up in the other hand, letting his loose breeches hang off his hips, then leaped back up to stand. Tyber swept in for a one-two swing at Gareth’s midsection, but he was able to parry with the ax, and Tyber backed off. Though he was still reeling, Evin tried to tackle Marc. But Johan stepped into his path and kneed him hard in the stomach. He fell to the ground. Gareth had pushed fear for himself down deep inside the instant he realized Evin was in danger. Oh, it was there, coiled in the pit of his stomach, waiting to strike again, but it wasn’t important. Not while Evin needed him. Gareth had been trying to defend himself without hurting anyone, hoping they’d come for him and leave Evin the chance to flee. If Evin could get to safety, Gareth could run. Tyber and his friends would never catch him in the forest. But Evin had got it all wrong. He had run toward the fight and got knocked down. And Gareth couldn’t turn away from Tyber to go help him.

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Johan joined Tyber and Marc as they circled Gareth. Marc held an arrow ready but seemed to be simply herding Gareth toward the others. Tyber ducked in and slashed the sword, threatening him again. Gareth realized Tyber hoped to distract him as Johan moved in with the ax. Gareth barely took his eyes off Tyber’s mean grin, but he was ready when Johan brought the ax down. He swung his own ax to meet it. Their weapons met in a powerful shock. Johan fell with a cry, clutching his forearm. His weapon thudded to the ground. The two strongest hunters were down. Only Tyber and little Marc left. Tyber’s grin faded, and his eyes grew like those of a frightened doe. He didn’t slash with the sword now, but held it up unsteadily for defense. He must have realized he was going to lose. Father’s training screamed at Gareth from the back of his mind. Tyber was too still now, too dulled by fear. Gareth saw himself knock Tyber’s blade from his weak little pink hand; grab the neck of his leathers and pull him closer; drive the ax into his flank far enough to sever his spine. Instead Gareth glared into Tyber’s eyes and growled, hoping he might yet scare Tyber away. He stepped closer and roared like the bear had done. Tyber fell back but kept the sword up. Gareth crowded in, menace in every step, backing Tyber up until they reached the edge of the shelf. It was working. Tyber would run. Gareth might not have to hurt anyone! Then Marc shot him in the throat. Searing pain flooded his neck. His scream was choked off by the arrow. He couldn’t breathe! He tore the weapon out and threw it away. Gasping drew blood into his lungs. He choked on it and spat it everywhere as he coughed uncontrollably. The ax fell from his grasp, and he bent forward, gripping his knees to prop himself up. Blood splattered to puddle in the dirt at his feet. Tyber brought his sword down in an arc that chopped deep into the bone of Gareth’s shoulder, a sickening, crunching impact that jarred his whole body in the instant before it turned to pain. The weapon stuck, and Tyber yanked it free, pulling Gareth forward. Gareth fell to all fours with a burbling scream as his hands hit the ground and tore the wounded parts of his shoulder. Tyber kicked him, and he fell over onto his side. The stars were out behind Tyber. He raised his sword again into the blue night sky. Tiny points of light flared and vanished in Gareth’s sight. Tyber chopped down with the sword, and Gareth’s guts exploded in pain. Gareth tried to plead, to beg Tyber not to hurt Evin, but blood had filled his throat and he could not make words. A gray miasma drew across his vision. Tyber crouched over him, and through the closing fog he could barely see Tyber’s bloodflecked mouth move. “He’s mine!” As the last of Gareth’s sight faded, Tyber rose, placed his sword point between ribs, and used his full weight to drive it into Gareth’s chest.

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Evin gasped and fought the spasming muscles in his belly to get air. He made it to his knees and looked back toward the fight. Tyber kicked Gareth, who fell onto his side. Tyber raised the sword and slashed Oh no oh no oh no down into Gareth’s belly. Evin got to his feet and stumbled toward them. Tyber leaned into Gareth’s face and growled something. Tyber stood, placed the sword No please no and leaned against it, pushed its point into Gareth’s heart. Evin collapsed again and curled to cover his head with his arms. But he couldn’t shut it out, what he’d seen, or the sounds. The gurgling wheezes and weak coughs. Evin finally got enough air but could only use it to wail. Get up he needs Evin forced himself to move again. Tyber stood with his foot on Gareth’s body. He had pulled the sword from Gareth’s chest, and blood poured in gushes from the wound. Evin knelt by Gareth’s side. “I’m here.” His voice was choked. “I’m here. I’m here.” Gareth’s face was slack. His eyes didn’t turn toward Evin. “I’m here.” “Get away from it,” Tyber said, and he used his foot to shove Gareth off the edge of the rock. Gareth’s body slid a little way down. His hands, which had been clutching weakly at pouring wounds, went limp. Evin scrambled after. “I’m here. I’m here.” He lay against Gareth, there on the incline, and held him as the wet noises and struggles for breath subsided. He put his face against Gareth’s chest, heedless of the blood already there, and added to it his tears. When it was over, the cold of Gareth’s body seeped into his skin and into his heart. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing ever would.

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Chapter Eleven Evin had been tied up and left alone in the cave. He struggled against his bonds and cried helplessly into the dirt while the others built a fire outside. Nicolas and Johan came for him. Nicolas grabbed him under his armpits, and Johan took hold of his leg bindings with one hand. They carried him back outside. The pools and splatters of blood were red now in the light of the fire. Gareth’s blood. The sight crushed Evin like a closed fist and stole his breath. Nicolas and Johan put Evin down in front of the cave mouth, across from the fire, then went farther away from the cave to sit cross-legged next to Marc. Tyber paced in the space between them and Evin. He still carried his sword. “We are gathered to judge our brother, Evin Pandoon, for unspeakable crimes. Do you swear to do your duty?” He spoke imperiously, the way his father did at trials, to incite the village men to punish others. “We swear,” Tyber’s friends said. “His crimes are terrible and unnatural. If condemned, he will merit no punishment but death. Are you prepared to carry out your duty?” “We are,” said Johan and Nicolas. Marc began to cry. Evin heard these things as if from far away. Tyber raised the sword. “What are the charges?” “Gettin fished by the monster!” Johan cried. “First charge,” Tyber said. “Whoring for a demon.” “Uh…not telling anyone?” Johan said. “Second charge.” Tyber marched over and pointed the sword into Evin’s face. “Lying. Not warning the village.” He lowered the sword and leaned in, his face twisting in fury. “Making me a fool to protect the demon.” He spat into Evin’s face. Nicolas said, “Kissing on the demon?” “That’s not worse than letting it fish him out with its stick,” Johan said. “Evin knows the law,” Tyber said. “They’ll take him away to bleed him. It’s death to take the place of a woman.” As if they all hadn’t used Evin this way. “Evin Pandoon, what say you?”

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Evin didn’t respond. Tyber stabbed the sword’s point into the side of his thigh, drawing blood. Evin hissed, but the pain tore him from his misery, made him focus on Tyber. “What say you?” Tyber repeated. “Answer the charges, whore.” Evin struggled to get free of the leather straps and uttered a string of curses at Tyber. He rolled to his stomach and tried to get up onto his knees. Tyber kicked him viciously back over onto his side. “You will respect the court!” Evin retched into the dirt and tried to breathe. Tyber waited until he recovered, then ordered again, “You will answer the charges of keeping a demon and being its whore.” “You’re not the court, you bastard. You killed him. He never hurt anyone, and you killed him!” “I did kill him.” Tyber grinned and turned to swagger toward his audience. “I stabbed a demon’s heart and saved my village! Just like a demon hunter.” He turned back to Evin. “But he didn’t hurt you, did he? How long has he polluted you with his seed? And you begging for more.” “That’s what you want to know. That’s why you killed him. You just want to know why you couldn’t make me beg for you, you filthy kenzul!” “Shut up!” “You took him away because I wanted him. Because he was better than you.” Tyber faced Evin directly and pointed the sword at him. “I’m warning you, you’ll—” “Because I wanted him, and you’re nothing! You’re nothing to me.” “I’ll kill you myself!” “And I know why you need to be important. Because of your father. You’re nothing to him, either, are you? You’re nothing to anybody!” Tyber’s face tightened into a knot of rage. “Guilty! Guilty!” He rushed for Evin, raising his sword to strike. Evin laid his head back to expose his throat. As the blade still rose, a blur of motion took Tyber. He made a strangled cry and slammed to the ground at the cave’s mouth. His sword spun off into the cave’s darkness. Gareth crouched between Evin and the others, his back to Evin, and bellowed in fury and defiance. He really was a demon now. Tyber’s friends sat wide-eyed, paling, and motionless as Gareth raged at them. A stain spread in Johan’s breeches. Gareth’s scream died away. He looked over his shoulder, back at Evin. Then he leaped to Evin’s side and reached out, but his hand wasn’t a hand, it was a claw! “Stop,” Evin said as Gareth opened his mouth and lowered his head, but he only bit the leather bindings on Evin’s legs. He used an open palm to roll Evin over, facedown, and bit off the arm bindings as well.

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Evin rolled back to look up at him and saw Tyber running toward them, raising a burning branch. Evin shouted, “Watch out!” But Gareth didn’t have time to react. Tyber clubbed his exposed back. Cinders and ash exploded from the impact. Evin had to close his eyes. Gareth screamed. Burning fragments rained down to prick Evin’s face and torso. He opened his eyes to see Gareth spin to face Tyber, who raised the branch to strike again. Evin scrambled to his feet. An ugly mark of seared flesh ran across Gareth’s arm, shoulder, and neck. Lords, save him! The log came down again, and Gareth swept wide with his unburned forearm, taking the blow on the bone and knocking the log out of Tyber’s hands. It nearly landed on Nicolas, who scrambled away, then returned to pick it up. Though weaponless, Tyber was enraged beyond reason. He put his hands to Gareth’s throat and squeezed with the might of fury, and the two seemed to dance together in the firelight as they grappled. They were both insane. The others stood around dumbly, but someone had to stop them. Nobody was dead yet. It wasn’t too late. Evin looked around and spied a fallen ax. He could use the handle just as Johan had done, and crack Tyber in the skull. But as he turned to start toward it, something hot splashed against the side of his face. It blinded him on that side and ran down his face and neck. As he turned back toward Gareth, he wiped at his eye with the back of a hand, then drew it away to see. Blood. Gareth held Tyber’s body by the shoulders. Gore covered them both. It made Gareth’s face shiny, wet, and red in the firelight. Tyber’s body had no head, only the ragged stump of a neck. A weakening stream of blood pulsed from it. Gareth still screamed with aggression. His features twisted into a grimace of bared teeth and hatred, empty of all intelligence. He held the body with one of his claws now and stabbed the other into the midsection, tearing effortlessly through the leather that Tyber had thought was armor. More blood gushed out, enough to hit the ground with thick plopping sounds. Gareth tore steaming entrails out of Tyber, stretching ropes of dripping tissue from the limp body. All the others watched this impossibility with ashen faces. Nicolas dropped the half-burned log club, but otherwise nobody moved. Evin dared not breathe. Marc was the first to scream, a high-pitched knife of sound that somehow made it all real. Evin sank to his knees and stared helplessly as Gareth raised the gory mass of Tyber’s entrails. Evin’s thoughts warred. He wanted simultaneously to save Gareth, to save Tyber, and to run away from the ravening monster. He wasn’t even aware at first that he had joined the chorus of screams. Gareth had opened his mouth to eat when something changed. He glanced at Evin and gave a visible shock of recognition. He looked down at the body and at his

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own claw full of dripping meat. He threw the ruined body down and held his hands, palms up, to see. Staring at the blood-soaked claws, he began to make a low, keening sound. Marc and Nicolas fled. Johan stumbled to the edge of the cave, rested his weight on his undamaged arm, and vomited violently. “No,” Evin whispered. This couldn’t be happening. “No! What have you done?” Gareth looked up as if seeing him again for the first time. His blood-coated face crumbled, and he shook his head. “I didn’t—I”—he looked back at the headless, dripping corpse—“I couldn’t—How…?” He looked back at Evin, his eyes searching for some answer that would make this horror make sense. “Evin…?” But Evin had no answers or forgiveness to offer. He turned and ran away from the cave and the fire and the madness. He fled into the dark woods.

*** Evin didn’t have any destination in mind, just away. In his panic, he looked back occasionally to see if Gareth chased him. Despite the moonlight, it was too dark in the woods. He tripped and stumbled into branches, sending fresh spears of pain through his wounded leg. He had to stop. He could still see the flicker of firelight in the distance when he paused to breathe and try to think. Tyber is dead. Images flashed through his mind of their days as children. Running, laughing, playing, wrestling. Fighting too, the way children do. All gone. But it had been gone for years now, since everything went wrong and Tyber became the leader of the boys. He became so mean and destructive. The person who had attacked today wasn’t an old friend. Today Tyber had done his best to kill Gareth. And then the mock trial. He would’ve killed me too. Evin was covered with Tyber’s blood. He couldn’t go back to the village like this. Tyber is dead! He couldn’t go back at all. Ever. Johan and the others had seen everything. And Tyber was dead.

*** When Evin found his way back to the cave, flickering firelight revealed splashes of blood all over the dusty ground. It soaked into the dirt. Tyber’s draining body lay discarded in the dust. Lords knew where the head was. Gareth and Johan had gone. Evin walked down the hill and on to the river, where he and Gareth had washed before. The full moon’s light made it easy to see; he had no difficulty now

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that he was out of the woods. He found Gareth in the water, trying to get clean again. Something was wrong with what Evin saw in the moonlight, but it took a moment to understand. The blood washed away from his skin, and he was whole. The sword and arrows had left no mark on Gareth. Wounds that should have killed him were gone. Gareth glanced at Evin. A hurt look and then he turned away. Now Evin saw that the burned places on his back and arm had not vanished. If anything, they looked darker and uglier than before. Gareth hissed in pain as he washed around them. “It’s not your fault.” Evin stepped to the water’s edge. Gareth kept at his work and ignored Evin. “He would have killed you. It’s not your fault.” Gareth scrubbed the palms of his hands—hands with his normal fingers, now—up and down the thighs of his breeches. Trying to get the bloodstains off. “I’m sorry I got scared. You were like an animal. I didn’t think—” Gareth paused again, but he still didn’t look at Evin. “I am an animal. Or a demon. Some evil thing. Should have stayed away forever. From you.” Evin watched in silence for a bit. Gareth took his breeches off, bunched the cloth together, and scrubbed harder. When he finished cleaning, he turned and started out of the water. Moonlight played over ripples of the dark, wet skin. Light was lost in the hollows but sparkled on the wet planes of his chest and curves of his arms. Evin watched in sorrow and amazement. Gareth was so beautiful. How could he be so terrible, so dangerous? Gareth’s gaze never wavered as he walked to stand before Evin. His expression was flat and hopeless. They stood facing one another for a moment. Water dripped off Gareth’s body and the crush of clothing he held. Finally Evin moved in and wrapped his arms around Gareth, keeping his hands low to avoid the burns on Gareth’s back, and laid his head against Gareth’s chest. Gareth exhaled a shuddering sigh. He threw his breeches to the bank and held tight to Evin. Evin wanted to ease Gareth’s heartsickness and sorrow and take comfort in return. They held on for a few moments, sharing without saying anything. But Evin knew it could not last. He spoke into Gareth’s chest. “We can’t stay here.” “I’ve ruined everything.” Gareth’s voice was matter-of-fact, as if he lacked the energy to feel any worse. “You’re alive. He came to kill us. Tyber wanted murder.” Evin pulled back to look into Gareth’s eyes. “We can’t stay here. They’ll get back to the village soon, and the people will come. We don’t have any more time for you to blame yourself. We don’t have time to argue. You have to believe in me now.” Gareth nodded dumbly.

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“Say it! Tell me you believe me.” Gareth’s words were choked. “Not my fault.” He snuffled and said in a louder, hoarse voice, “Not my fault. I believe you.” “Okay.” Evin held on for a moment longer before freeing an arm to gesture back toward the cave. “This—all of this—is finished. All we think about now is, I’m going to protect you and you’re going to protect me.” Gareth nodded again. “How did you… I mean, why aren’t you…?” Words failed Evin. He touched Gareth’s neck and chest, feeling for the wounds that should have been there. “I don’t know. Hurt places just grow back. I don’t know why.” Evin looked into his eyes. What are you? He bit the question back. He didn’t want to hurt Gareth more by asking, but Gareth saw it in his face. Gareth said in a plaintive whisper, “I don’t know, Evin. I don’t know nothing.” Evin clasped Gareth against him again and reached up to pull Gareth’s head down to rest on his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter. I’m glad you didn’t die! You have to be strong now. We both do.” Gareth pushed Evin gently away, scrubbed a hand over his eyes, and took a breath. “You’re right. I’m all grown up now. I’ll protect you, I promise.” “Me too. How long before your burns heal?” “A few minutes, I guess.” “Okay. We have to go. You can move fast at night because you can see. Think you can still carry me?” “I think so.” “Then we should run at night and hide during the day. Let’s go get our clothes.” “How far do we have to go?” Evin shook his head and reached up to caress a soft, dark cheek. “I don’t know. Far enough until we find a safe place.” Because Evin hadn’t washed yet, his embrace had smeared Tyber’s blood back onto Gareth. They both cleaned themselves, and when they were done, Evin took Gareth by the hand and led him up to gather their few meager belongings from the cave.

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Chapter Twelve Birds leaped into the air, fleeing their forest perches at the approach of the painted wagon. It was a home built on a cart, pulled by an old horse, led by an old man. The man wore simple blue breeches tucked into boots. Despite his tall, thin frame, he had a pot belly barely covered by his faded red chemise. A wide-brimmed hat protected him from the midday sun. He trudged up the path to the mountain cabin, giving every appearance of being a weary, elderly traveler. Upon arriving at the cabin, he tied up the horse and rapped on the door. A woman answered. She froze when she saw him. “Ah, dear Magareta! It has been such a long time. Well, do invite me in. I’m an old friend, after all.” She composed herself and gestured for him to enter. “Welcome,” she said in a small voice. The old man walked into the cabin and looked around. “Well, it’s not much, is it?” he said in a mild voice. Rhyd was there, cleaning his hands. He had been working with pelts when the old man arrived. “Please, lord, sit here.” Magareta indicated a wooden chair, the most comfortable-looking the cabin offered, which wasn’t saying much. The visitor hugged Magareta and shook Rhyd’s hand before turning to the chair. He pulled out a wooden stick with a bauble on its tip, touched it first to the chair, then to his person, and sat. Rhyd and Magareta stood before him. “Well, well, Rhyd, how long has it been? No trouble here, I imagine.” “No, lord, none. Everything quiet, just as you wanted.” “Good, good. And the boy? What have you taught him?” “Sword and bow, tracking, trapping.” Rhyd indicated the trapper’s gear and pelts. “Tried teaching him to ride a horse, but they’re afraid to death of him. Never could set him on one. Hard to get a hound to trust him.” “Oh, that’s fine. Do horses flee on sight?” “Yes, lord.” “Excellent. That could be useful. But is he…dull?” Rhyd and Magareta looked nervously at one another. Rhyd said, “Lord, we…didn’t educate him none, ’cept as you wished. The boy don’t have no experience of the world beyond this mountain.”

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“I’m quite sure of that! But is he quick? Does he learn?” “Oh yes, he always was quick when we showed him chores and—” “Fine, fine!” Magareta gave a short jump and left Rhyd’s side to go to a cupboard. “Gareth’s room is under the floor,” Rhyd said. “Good place to hide during the day. No visitors ever knew.” “You have done well. Raised him to maturity in utter secrecy. I’ve had other servants not nearly so faithful.” Magareta brought cakes, which she offered to her guest. “Thank you, my dear. Tell me, what is unusual about the boy? What have you seen so far? Beyond the obvious, of course.” “Can’t hurt him,” Rhyd said. His nervousness was momentarily overcome by pride in having good news to relate. “Can’t hurt him for long. Bear ripped his arm clean off, and it grew back good as new before we could come home to tell Magareta.” The old man smiled. “I had hoped. Exactly the power I wanted. And in a smart one! And the appendages? All normal?” Magareta blushed a little, but Rhyd answered without hesitation. “Hands and feet like a man, absolutely. Five fingers and toes. Face like a prince, and I mean a prince—if it weren’t for…you know.” The old man sat back in the chair, satisfied. He looked around the hovel and sighed. “My, my, you surely must have missed the tower during these long years. Remember your place in the hierarchy? When even you had other servants to order about?” A pause while he waited for an answer. “We never,” Magareta said in a slow and serious voice, “never considered disobeying. Not for a moment.” “Never,” said Rhyd. “You were always my best servants at the tower.” The man shook his head. “You may have despised one another, but certainly you were always faithful to me.” “Thank you, lord.” “And here we are.” “Yes, lord.” “Gareth, is it? Not Garet, as they’d say here? An old name. An odd name to choose. But nobody knows him, so there’s no one to wonder. Tell me, whose ancestors do you honor? Mine…or the queen’s?” The old man ate a cake and waited as Rhyd choked on a reply. “No no,” the old man said. “My dear Rhyd, don’t be apoplectic! You haven’t insulted me. I’m merely having sport with you. Of course I know you named him after a hero—one of the Knights of Caerdyth who united the kingdom.” He gave

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them a second to relax, then continued, “You—or was it Magareta?—cleverly divined that the boy is not just an undying sacrifice, that he has a role in a larger purpose. Cleverness is ever so much more dangerous than insults. Now.” He brushed crumbs off his fingers. “Where is my son?”

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Chapter Thirteen Evin let Gareth carry him during the first few nights of their flight. It was faster that way, and the thing they needed most, at first, was to get distance from Laforet. Evin trusted Gareth to keep them going in one direction, but didn’t care which direction it might be. Just that it was away. They moved so swiftly in the night that they never even heard the pursuers who surely must have followed. They were together, and they were leaving the tragedy behind forever. They had almost got away unscathed. Almost. Except that after Tyber lost his sword, he had picked that log up from the fire. Gareth’s burns did not heal. Not in moments and not in days. Evin knew that while they traveled, Gareth tried to hide how much the burns troubled him. But when they found places in the woods to hide during the day, he slept facedown and not very well. It didn’t make sense. Wounds from swords and arrows had disappeared instantly, leaving no scars on Gareth’s body. Yet the burns had hurt him terribly, and they weren’t healing at all. Evin’s wounded thigh, on the other hand, had sealed up nicely after he cleaned it and applied remedies from the tiny stock he kept in his pack. He had feared the cut was too long and deep—the kind that people died from, sometimes despite an apothecary’s help—but after Evin endured excruciating pain while cleaning out all the bits of dirt, the sides of it stuck together and the scab looked very good. It was unfair that he should get well so easily while Gareth suffered. Evin foraged for food each day and made sure Gareth ate. He also tried to remember everything about the treatments Madame Tabeau might have offered for burns. The ones he had in his pack ran out quickly. Then he used plants to make the best remedies he could, but they were horrible and inept. He didn’t have time to dry anything that should be powdered, and he rarely found the plants whose oils he could use, the ones that would help the most. It killed Evin every time he touched Gareth’s burned places to apply the useless poultices. Gareth refused to cry out or even whimper, but Evin could tell he suffered by his breathing and the way his muscles vibrated. Sometimes Gareth exhausted himself with the effort it took to be still and keep up the pretense that Evin’s ministrations were not agonizing. After a few days, Gareth couldn’t carry Evin anymore because it hurt too much. The burns developed their own yellow skin on top of the red-black scabs, a

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skin that sometimes wept a green liquid that Evin feared was Gareth’s own flesh dissolving underneath. They were too far away now to go back and appeal to Madame Tabeau for help. She was the only one in the world Evin could have—should have—trusted. He had been a fool to run, and Gareth had been a fool to follow him. Evin carried the knowledge as a stone in his heart. Gareth would die because of him. One night as they stumbled through the woods together, making a wide circle around another village, Evin realized that Gareth was having a conversation with his mother. “I swear, I’ll never tell, I promise, not nobody, that Father took him apart, and I’m not hungry now, I don’t want the meat, I promise!” Evin scrubbed an arm across his face. They had not gone far since the sun set, but they were going to have to stop soon. He approached and raised a hand to touch Gareth’s cheek. Gareth flinched. “It’s bad. I’m not hungry!” “Shhhh. It’s okay. I’m not going to make you eat anything. It’s okay.” Gareth’s agitation subsided enough for Evin to lay his palm against Gareth’s forehead. Not cold anymore, not like it should be. Evin would have to find a fever remedy tonight. Maybe a cool stream. They came instead to a small, unoccupied cabin. Evin judged that they would be safe there for the night. Maybe Gareth could have a real bed, and there might even be stores Evin could use. Evin took Gareth’s arm and led him up to the little house and inside. “Oh no, they burned the meat,” Gareth said. “Smells bad.” The little bed looked too rickety to support Gareth’s weight, so Evin led him to a clear area on the floor. “Time to rest now, baby.” He tugged on an arm, and Gareth sank obediently down. “Mother won’t make me eat it this time, will she? Somebody burned him up.” “No, you don’t have to eat, just rest now. Here, lie down.” “Why’re you crying?” Evin tried a brittle smile. “I’m happy, because you’re here with me.” “That’s stupid.” Gareth lay facedown. “Hurts,” he said into the floorboards. “I know. I’ll get something to make it feel better.” “Please don’t let her make me!” A stream. Evin could let him rest for now, but if he could find a cool stream, he could put Gareth into it to bring down the fever.

*** Evin wandered around in the darkness for too long, cursing the aeons for not giving him, just this one night, burning eyes to see something in the dark, anything that might help. But he found nothing.

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Near midnight, he grew too nervous to leave Gareth alone any longer. He returned to the cabin to reassure himself that their situation had not worsened. He found an old man, a stranger, sitting on a wooden chair outside the cabin. Evin couldn’t see him very well in the darkness beneath the trees, but he didn’t care. He walked past the man without a word, going to the door to make sure— It was locked. “Hello, son. We’ve been waiting for you. Gareth told me all about you while you were gone. Come speak with me.” Evin rattled the door’s latch, pounded his fist against the wood. “Gareth! Gareth, I’m here! Can you hear me?” He tried to ram the door with his shoulder, but it wouldn’t budge. He went around the cabin looking for another way in, but the windows were too high for him to reach. How had he not noticed before? “Evin, come here, child. You’re not going to get him that way.” Evin stalked over to the man. “What have you done?” “That’s better. Hold this.” The man put something into his hand. Evin hissed. Searing cold! But his hand closed and he didn’t drop it. Couldn’t drop it. He couldn’t turn his head or even move his eyes. Fear swept out his anger. “Put it on.” The terrible cold had faded. Evin lifted the thing into his field of vision. It was a pendant with a leather strap. He put it over his head. His gaze never left the man’s face. “There you go. Evin, my name is Cydrich. Have you heard of me?” Demon hunter. Oh no, oh no! A scream built up in his chest, squeezing his heart like a fist. But he could make no sound. “Oh, I see that you have indeed heard tell of me. I’m very pleased to meet you, my boy.” You didn’t find him, no, please, lords, no, you didn’t! “Look at the cabin, boy.” Evin looked. The cabin shimmered. Its solid wooden walls rippled and dissolved as if they had been nothing but a dream. A hazy, empty image of safety that faded away to reveal devastation. He saw the black smoke first, rising from the few timbers that remained, some standing at odd angles, as the rest of the building had burned away. The cabin was nothing but a blackened husk, sagging in on itself. Here and there, edges still glowed with pulsing orange light. Sparks rose in the night, carried by smoke that tumbled and rolled up into the sky. With the glamor lifted, Evin smelled it now. Charred wood and flesh. Somebody burned him up.

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The scream in his chest was a protest. A denial. The high shriek of a child running with a sword too heavy to wield. It fought to break him, tear him open for release, but still no sound could escape his body. Only tears could come out. Streams of them. “Evin, child, I want you to tell what happened here. Are you listening? Look at me again.” Against his will, Evin’s flooding eyes tracked back to the face in the dark. He would have fallen to his knees, but caught up by power in the pendant, his joints remained locked, waiting for Cydrich’s commands. He could not even open his mouth to curse the demon hunter. Or to curse the demiourgos who made Gareth, a miracle, and gave him over to a fool like Evin to destroy. “I have a little job for you, my friend. An important job. I want you to tell the queen what happened here. About the demon who slew Tyber Clane and— remember these names—Rhyd and Magareta Duskan. The queen will be in her palace at Parige.” Evin couldn’t move, couldn’t look away. “Know the way now and go.” Evin’s legs moved. He turned in a direction. The direction he must go. As he turned, his gaze raked across the destruction once more. Sparks wafted up. More timbers collapsed. He found the direction he must go, and he went. “Oh, wait. Stop!” Cydrich called. “You’re nobody; you can’t just walk up to the palace and gain entry. Let’s see…” Locked up again, Evin heard rustling and humming, the sounds of Cydrich rooting through items in a pack. “Hm, hm, hm. The thing about sorcelry, Evin—no, that won’t do—is that you have to prepare everything in advance. People around here used to talk about hexes, did you know that? Curses and spells. Silly superstitions. But when sorcelry was discovered, how to make devices to do wondrous things…well, that changed the world, didn’t it?” Without hope, Evin tried to shut out the droning voice. Why had he wasted so much time wandering in the woods? Why hadn’t he been here to help when Gareth needed him most? “But you have to prepare in advance. If you don’t have the right device at the right time… Ah! And I think I do, boy, yes, I think I do. Harmless, not made with blood. They’ll never notice it. Oh, the women will adore you, Evin. The queen will want to listen to you!” Cydrich approached. Skin crawled on Evin’s neck and shoulders as he waited in dread of what would come next. Something terribly cold clasped against Evin’s ear. It grew colder still until it hurt like a knife cutting in, and then it was gone. “Say nothing about that object. Forget it now.”

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Skin crawled on Evin’s neck and shoulders—but instead of touching him with any new device, Cydrich simply gave orders. Maybe he hadn’t found what he was looking for. “Tell the queen you were hunting tonight, on a trip far from home. You were tracking the beast who killed your friend, Tyber. You came here quite by coincidence, just after I burned the demon. Say nothing to contradict this story. If she discovers you were the demon’s plaything, she will execute you.” There was a place of suffering. Evin realized that the priests were right. Punishment for all the times he had lied to make things better, to get what he wanted, to protect himself or the ones he loved. For pulling Gareth into danger to satisfy his own curiosity and lust, despite Gareth’s need to remain hidden forever. For bringing him here to die, then leaving him to die alone. Cydrich had taken Evin’s body, worse than Tyber or anyone, and he was trapped in it, alone with Cydrich’s lies and the certainty of his own guilt. How far was it to Parige? If it was too far to walk, he might be in the place of suffering for the rest of his life. “Go,” Cydrich said.

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Chapter Fourteen In his fitful dream, an old man had come to him. A new friend. He had two friends now. Somehow he wanted to tell his new friend things he never dreamed he would share. Secrets. Mother and Father would sure be mad. His new friend listened and talked with him for a while, promised to make the hurt go away, then patted him on the hand and said he needed to leave for a moment to get rid of Evin. Gareth tried to get up, tried to stop him, tried to tell him that Evin was their friend too, but the old man told him to sleep and the world snuffed out. He woke in a different place, suffering more than ever from his burns. He didn’t have any strength. The effort to lift his chest off the floor so that he could look around exhausted him. The new place was a cellar, much like the one at home but finished in smooth stone and with no rope or other way to climb out. He lay on the floor near a small, barred drain, and he despaired. A trickle of blood and pus oozed from the burned place on his shoulder. He would probably die here alone and never be found. What else did he deserve? After heaping disaster upon Evin, he could not even be there to do his part. He had promised to be a protector! Suffused with torment from his wounds and fear of what might have happened to Evin, he lay unable to move, his eyes too heavy to stay open. Consciousness faded in and out like a guttering flame. He was dimly aware of waking again, this time on a bed, still lying on his stomach. Hands manipulated his flesh and probed his wounds, making the pain rise to a maddening torment, then fade to a dull ache. He heard voices speak of fire and fever and filth in the blood. He drifted, lost in a red mist that his eyes could not penetrate, until they came to him: The girl in her cage, surrounded by straw men on straw horses who drew bows and shot her again and again while Evin screamed, She needed you; you were supposed to help! But the bear held Gareth down, crushing him, dipping her head to tear off putrefying flesh, feeding it to her broken cub. Father drew up behind Evin, his knife rising, as Mother crouched close enough to whisper, There’s one place they’ll never find him. He tried to say he was sorry, but the blood welled in his throat and he was drowning again, coughing, spitting.

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Gareth woke strangling on his own drool. His wet cheek pressed into the soft bed. When his breathing settled, he found he didn’t hurt anymore. Warm sunlight fell on his naked back. He wiggled his toes, rubbing them against the sheet to feel them, and he moved an arm to test it too. He was whole. He had been released. He closed his eyes and took his first restful sleep in many days. When he woke again, it was night. He found himself in the same bed, lying on his back this time, able to look around. He was in another round, stone room, much larger than the first. It was ringed with wooden tables holding papers and scrolls, tools and pots, and many other things he didn’t recognize. High above, wide windows gave out onto the starry sky. At one side of the room, a large, wooden door opened and the old man entered. “Ah, you’re awake.” The man clapped his gloved hands once, soundlessly. “You gave us a lot of trouble, you know! A lot of trouble indeed.” “Where’s Evin?” The man stepped closer and put his hand on Gareth’s shoulder. “Can you sit up?” Gareth slowly sat up and moved his feet off the bed. “Good. Good. Excellent.” The old man lifted and lowered Gareth’s arm, the one that had been burned, and encouraged Gareth to stretch. “Very good. You are such a fine specimen. It is lucky for both of us that my healer and I were able to save you, you know.” “The fire put something in my blood, didn’t it?” Gareth was still tired, and his head spun. “How did you know? Ah, you heard us talking. Yes, you were very sick because of the burns.” The man finished examining Gareth and moved away. “I think you’re almost strong enough for us to begin our work. Maybe one more day.” “Begin what? No, I don’t care.” He struggled to get up on unsteady legs. “Where is Evin? What have you done with him?” The man stepped back and held gloved hands up to show them to Gareth. They erupted in flame. Tongues of fire licked out toward Gareth, and he shrank from them. “Good, good. You remember how it feels, don’t you, boy?” The man’s smiling eyes sparkled with mirth and reflections of the flame. “Don’t want to burn, do you? You’ll do as I say or you’ll die.” Gareth pushed down the tired, unsteady feelings and stood tall. Not a baby no more. “No,” he said quietly. “I won’t do nothing you say till I know Evin’s all right. Take me to him. If you killed him, kill me too, because I won’t do nothing for you.” The old man’s face clouded with anger for an instant, but the smile returned to his lips, and if anything, he seemed pleased. He moved farther out of reach. “Oh, you’re a brave one! But your little friend isn’t dead. I know just where he is.”

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“Where?” “And if you force me to kill you, I’ll go burn him too.” “No!” “Oh yes. I’ll burn him piece by piece. I’ll start with his feet. I’ll make it last for weeks, and each day when I come to him, I’ll tell him who is the cause of his suffering. ‘Gareth chose this for you,’ I’ll say, and he’ll curse your name in a thousand screams before I burn out his tongue.” The words made Gareth’s skin crawl and burn in a way that had nothing to do with the fire. He had put Evin in danger. His fingers grew sharp and pricked at him as he clenched his fists. He wanted to leap at the old man, kill him just like the bear. But if Gareth died in the fire first…if the man did go to Evin… Gareth’s insides turned to cold, dead stone. He didn’t dare try to hurt the man or even sacrifice himself to protect Evin. Worthless and lost, Gareth couldn’t do anything. “Who are you? What do you want?” “That’s better.” The flames vanished, and the man pointed at the bed. Gareth sat on the edge. “Let’s be civil. My name is Cydrich. You’ve seen enough to know I’m a sorceler. I’m the queen’s demon hunter.” Gareth hung his head. He didn’t understand sorceler, but his parents had warned him often enough about demon hunters. And yet he’d disobeyed them, come out of hiding, and brought on the very fate they gave up so much to prevent. Worse, he’d dragged Evin into it too. Cydrich sighed. “Oh, well, it does impress most people. But I imagine those aren’t things Rhyd and Magareta ever taught you about.” What? “How do you know my parents?” Cydrich walked to a high-backed chair and sat. He placed a booted foot on his knee and crossed his hands over his lap. “Oh they weren’t your parents, boy. They were my servants. I gave you to them to raise.” He waited then, watching as Gareth tried to understand. Gareth looked away, staring at nothing. Servants? No. If that was true, nothing was real. All this time. As long as he could remember, he had wanted to do something, somehow, to make up to his parents for being cursed. To make their fear and disgust go way. To make their lives easier. To see kindness in their eyes when they looked at him. He hadn’t known the word for it before Evin, but he had wanted to earn their love. And now… What if the old man was telling the truth? That it was all a lie, everything, from the start? His whole life? He didn’t want to accept it. He wanted Cydrich to be lying, but he knew. He knew. And so he murmured the words that damned his parents: “They told me

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there was someone else. You’re the important visitor. They were going to g-give me back.” Cydrich nodded. “I was coming to collect you, Gareth. I created you, and it is time for you to serve your purpose.” Gareth looked to Cydrich, to plead for an answer, a reason. Everything he knew was a lie, but why? What was it for? Why had they done this to him? The sorceler said, “But first I’m afraid you must suffer.”

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Chapter Fifteen “Captain!” Simone Uliette turned away from her worktable, where she had been wasting her time looking over patent reports—forms the queen’s subjects used to request permission to sell sorceled devices. Functionaries had already been over the forms once to mark out ones that might be too powerful. Her job was to look over them to eliminate any which might pose a threat to the security of Parige or the castle. Eventually Queen Denua would receive the list to reject any which, in her estimation, could possibly bring about some long-term threat to her rule. Boring, daily, can’t-keep-your-eyes-from-crossing scut work. She was thankful for an interruption. As long as it wasn’t serious. “What is it, Abel?” “Well…it’s Cydrich.” Shit. That didn’t explain anything, but unfortunately it probably explained everything. “Can you tell me or do you have to show me?” “I’ll try to tell. We have a youth downstairs. Cydrich sent him here with news for the queen. Bastard’s half-dead because Cydrich compelled him and didn’t tell him he could stop to rest—” “Shit!” “So here he is, and he can’t talk to anyone but the queen. He can’t stand, but he won’t stop crawling. We keep dragging him back, but…” Abel shrugged helplessly. She saw the problem. If they didn’t take him to the queen, he’d die under compulsion. But letting him go to the queen under sorcelrous compulsion would be a serious security risk. They could kill him and be done with it, but either way, nobody but Denua would dare frustrate a sorceler like that. Especially the demon hunter. Simone stood. “Let me see him.”

*** When they arrived at the palace’s first-floor antechamber, Simone found the problem had already been solved—badly. Queen Denua was already there. A gaunt youth in filthy clothing lay unmoving at her feet.

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Simone admonished her queen. “Your Majesty. I see you are still alive.” “Indeed. The compulsion charm on this man was nothing. You see?” A silver charm on a crude leather strap dangled from Denua’s hands. Denua wore her own jewelry, ensorceled to provide a shield that would surely protect her from one of Cydrich’s devices. But even so, touching the charm was a risk that made Simone angry. Who would the queen blame if, after behaving so cavalierly, her shield wasn’t enough to protect her from a weapon? “The mark is Cydrich’s. Turn him over,” Denua said. Guards complied. When they rolled his body, a filthy arm slapped unchecked against the white marble floor. “Oh,” Denua said. Oh, how sad! Simone could see that beneath the dirt and privation, he was lovely. He bore a striking resemblance to a man she once loved, a soldier who died beside her while fighting an ogre invasion in the North. Sorcelers were thoughtlessly cruel. Cydrich had intended him to get here alive but obviously had forgotten to allow him to stop anywhere for rest or food on the way. That pig. The queen said, “Bring him. We will clean him and tend to his health.” He isn’t dead? “Your Majesty! You’ve already risked your person by touching him and the charm. Please let us send him to an infirmary in the city. You shouldn’t have contact with him.” Denua’s eyebrows knitted. “But I would hear Cydrich’s message. The messenger fainted as I entered the room.” “There may be no further information. This might be a trick from some other sorceler.” “I have my shield. I will hear the message. That is all, Captain.”

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Chapter Sixteen Cydrich hung Gareth in his workroom like a naked work of art. Manacles at hands, biceps, and feet held Gareth’s limbs outstretched, securing him to the collection table, a vertically inclined disk of wood with a system of channels to direct the flow of blood. Cydrich slipped on his viewing mask. He raised a hand before his face, and the mask reacted. Its intricate system of lenses on thin metal arms moved until the proper set slipped into place and Cydrich’s eyes could focus on the tiny courses of spark—life energy—that traced his hand and flowed through his veins. He looked at Gareth, and the lenses moved again. Lines of spark blurred together, shrouding Gareth’s body in a glow of power. A great reservoir of it. Today’s work would be long and rather tedious, but very delicate and intricate. Cydrich’s hands were steady and sure despite his age, but human fingers were too clumsy to work on the scale necessary to gather much spark at one time. In order to capture every miniscule trace, Cydrich would use a harvester. The device, an ensorceled cabinet with a thicket of delicate tool arms, had been developed long ago in order to capture spark quickly, before the sources died. He found it interesting to note that Gareth could sweat and breathe rapidly as he hung strapped to the collection table, seeing the implements glinting at the tips of the harvester’s tool arms. He wasn’t crying or begging like most, but his physical fear reactions were otherwise perfectly human. Cydrich slipped his hands into the gauntlets made of interleaved, spindly metal rods that protruded from the side of the harvester. He moved his fingers, and the jointed arms sprang to life, waving and whirling, making metallic tapping sounds. Gareth screamed as the instruments darted in, dipping into his flesh like toes in soft mud, and spread him open for others to tear and probe and pull. Blood spray didn’t stick to Cydrich’s mask, leaving him free to lean in close to the wounds. The viewing mask’s lenses slid and rotated into place one after the next as he studied the currents of spark flowing along nerves and exposed blood vessels. Blood, crackling with its own spark, collected in channels cut into the wooden disk. A long mirror in a thick frame lay beneath, and the blood fell there to gather in a pool, covering the mirror glass, to complete its ensorcelment and attune it. When he was exhausted from screaming, Gareth whimpered and groaned. Cydrich worked his darting and pulling instruments, urging greater ecstasies of torment and coaxing spark to flow into the other receptacle, a lozenge of amethyst

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that began to glow with purple light as power filtered in. Working the chittering metal arms quickly, he used some instruments to stretch and separate tissues into long strands, then razored along them with other tools to chase and gather the filaments of power. After harvesting what he could from each part of the body, he laid the tissues back into place, allowing each wound to close and heal as he moved on to the next. Pain generated the greatest flow of spark. That flow stopped each time Gareth lost consciousness, so Cydrich had to pause his work until Gareth signaled awareness by resuming the struggle to tear free of his bonds. During one such pause, Cydrich removed his hands from the gauntlets and turned the mirror over, letting the pool of blood drain away through grates in the chamber floor. He replaced it under the disk to allow the dry side to collect fresh blood. Then he returned to his work. As he operated the delicate machinery that would take what he needed from Gareth and improve it, Cydrich thought of the delightful symmetry between this moment and the time, so many years ago, when he had done similar blood work on a captured troll, preparing her to be impregnated with his seed. How the troll-bitch had shrieked and struggled as he stripped her flesh down and placed the necessary devices into her womb! It was exhilarating. Such good work too, which made possible this boy, this moment, and the triumph soon to follow. Decades had passed since he found a page of an ancient manuscript, the Grimoire Curieuse, which set him on the quest for which he needed one like Gareth. These last years, waiting for his offspring to mature and for Gareth to emerge as the useful one, had been the most difficult. But the work was good, the result was good, and soon Cydrich would have recompense for all his toil and patience. Gareth twisted his body, trying to escape Cydrich’s tools. During the long hours while his body was flayed and rebuilt, bled and flensed, Gareth moaned and screamed, cried and cursed, spat out teeth broken from clenching his jaw. But Cydrich could not help feeling a touch of pride. Through it all, his son refused to beg.

*** Long after the torment was over, Gareth lay curled in a shaking, naked heap in the corner of the workshop. Alone. He didn’t remember how he got free from the disk or when it ended. It had happened to someone else, he was sure. That was why. He lifted a hand before his face and studied both sides for marks left by the razors, but the hand was perfect, smooth, and clean. He closed his eyes. It happened to someone else. Later, he heard people moving about in the tower and knew when someone— who didn’t walk like Cydrich—climbed up to the workroom. One of the servants. He didn’t roll over to look. The door opened, and the servant paused at the threshold,

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taking a shuddering breath before edging into the room. Gareth smelled meat pie, fruit, and the servant’s sweat. He didn’t hear the door close. He considered trying to escape, but the servant’s fear… What were they expecting? It’s a trick. The servant laid the food near Gareth’s head and fled without saying a word. Gareth opened his eyes briefly as Cydrich came into the room, wearing his firegloves, and busied himself with objects on the worktables. He closed his eyes again, wanting to shut Cydrich out forever. “You should eat, my boy.” The torturer’s voice was so pleasant now. Kind. Gingerly, Gareth unknotted his body. Relief filled him when he found there were no wounds and no pain. As his fear of more agony evaporated, he was left with a ravenous hunger. He wanted to refuse the food. He didn’t want to take anything the madman offered, but couldn’t control himself. He picked up one of the meat pies on the tray, and before he knew it, he had devoured them all. He found himself resting on his knees, shoveling the last of the food into his mouth. Cydrich was watching him now. “You truly are a marvelous creature, my child.” The word creature echoed in Gareth’s ears. He turned away from the old man and lay back down. “Certainly the greatest of your kind.” The news that he was of a kind, that there were others like him, startled Gareth. Cydrich must have seen, because he continued, “Oh yes, boy, there have been others. Your failed brothers and sisters. The ones who were too mundane. The ones who slew their caretakers before they were old enough to speak. The ones who ate entire villages before I could arrive. The imbeciles…” Don’t listen. “The other one just like you. Strong, intelligent, with the same exquisite balance of courage and caution. I thought he was the one.” I have a brother? “I see now why I couldn’t control him, why I had to destroy him before I could use him.” Just like me… “His caretakers kept him too well concealed. I see that mistake now. And to think of the families I slew because I thought the parents weren’t keeping hidden well enough! If only poor Loïc had found a lover to defend, my work could have been done last year.” Gareth squeezed shut his eyes. It was just another form of torment. Best to ignore the madman until he went away.

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“Ah well, that’s life. I was sure that with enough trials, one of you would work out. And here you are, no? The most marvelous one.” He went back to his work. For a while, the only sounds came from sifting powders and clinking vials. “Gareth, I have seen how you glance at my hands whenever I enter the room. You are very smart.” Cydrich put down the objects he was working with and approached. “I am very smart too, and I know you hope to catch me without my firegloves one day. You think you can destroy me and save your little friend.” The heat of shame washed over Gareth’s face and body. He had been too obvious—stupid!—and now he’d never get his chance. “I need you to understand something, boy. I’m going to tell you now, and I will burn you a little if I think you aren’t listening. So give me your attention. The thing we did today: It was necessary. I took something from you to ensure that you cannot destroy me. Do you believe me, Gareth? You cannot destroy me.” Gareth heard a slight slipping sound, and something soft plopped beside his head. And again. The firegloves. “You can try to harm me if you wish, but of course I’ll be angry. Whatever you try to do to me, I will remember it. And I will go to your little friend.” The sorceler’s ungloved hand grazed his shoulder, moved up toward his face. “And I will do exactly the same to him. So if you require proof, you might want to start by nipping off the end of a finger.” Naked fingers ran over his lips, one of them pressing in, swirling around, stroking his teeth. “Go ahead. Won’t you still adore this boy if he’s missing one little finger?” Gareth rolled over and turned his face to the floor. The sorceler retrieved the firegloves and stood. “Ah well. I should have a servant bring clothing for you.” He walked a short distance away but paused before leaving the room. “Tomorrow I will introduce you to a man named Devinyeau. You can easily kill him, if you wish, but again, your friend will suffer for it. Devinyeau’s purpose is to finish training you as a soldier while I prepare other things. You will obey him as you obey me. He must be pleased with your efforts.”

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Chapter Seventeen Denua waited as her sorcelers examined five women through great, handheld lenses of glass. It was one of the final steps in an elaborate security ritual that started with Uliette’s guards inspecting this room and the approaches to it. Denua had dismissed Uliette and her people before this latest group arrived. Four guardswomen flanked another young woman. Two of the guards held the girl by her arms. When the sorcelers were satisfied, they withdrew and the guards brought the girl before Denua. The girl hadn’t been carried or dragged in. She walked with the guards under her own power. Yet her movements were careful, her face bloodless and tense, her eyes wide and alert. She didn’t wait for permission to speak. “Your Majesty, Your Majesty, please. There’s been a mistake.” Denua used a hand on the girl’s chin to turn her head from side to side. She had a strong profile. The delicate shells of her ears were small and pretty. “I’m apprenticed to be a trainer, my queen. I’m to be promoted soon!” Her hair was too dark, but that was a minor detail. She looked enough like Denua, and the differences were pleasing so far. “Remove her robe.” “No,” the girl said. Her voice squeaked, and color came to her face along with the first of her tears. “I’m not supposed to be here.” The girls always enjoyed the pleasures Denua offered them at the College of Handmaidens. They received the best food and greater comfort than their peasant families would ever know. Athletic training and the attentions of sorcelers and healers ensured physical perfection. Girls like this one had the longest potential life spans of anyone in the kingdom. Which was, of course, the point. Daily education taught them that they were priceless treasures. They would ensure the peace and safety of the kingdom and enable the queen to protect their families forever. The girls always enjoyed the pleasures, yet so few were ever glad to repay their debt. These guards were also from the college. They knew how to handle strong, struggling women firmly but gently enough to avoid harm. They disrobed the girl immediately and turned her, displaying every part of her body to Denua. She was exquisite, naturally. The college wouldn’t have recommended her otherwise. Younger than usual. She met all the ordinary requirements, but this time there was one more.

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“And her passions? Is she vigorous?” “Yes, Your Majesty,” one of the guardswomen said. “Florione is very popular among the handmaidens and trainers. Many will miss her at the college.” “No no.” The girl shook her head. Perhaps she thought she was denying a crime. Some of Denua’s laws made use of her peasants’ religious superstitions, so the people would gladly give their children over to Denua’s judges as punishment for sin. It ensured a steady supply of sacrifices to keep Denua’s sorcelers productive. But none of the morality laws applied at the college. Denua was pleased to hear of this one’s wantonness. It was all because of the messenger, the young man Cydrich sent to her. The instant she saw him, even covered in dirt and sweat, she recognized his resemblance to Mueric, her lover from long ago. In that flash of recognition, she remembered Mueric’s face, also bathed in sweat, grimacing as he drove into her, filling her, using her sex savagely as the climaxes ripped through her body again and again. The dirty peasant messenger, lying unconscious at her feet, woke something within her that had been asleep for years. The girl said, “No, Your Majesty, please, it’s a mistake.” As the guards turned her toward the table at the chamber’s center, she struggled to remain standing before the queen. She fought against them truly, screaming, “No no!” It took all four to strap her onto the table. Above, in the chamber’s ceiling, a great polished crystal, seemingly filled with red smoke, looked down on them all. A dispassionate eye. “Noooooo!” Denua thought of the messenger as the guards finished securing the girl. Though his body lay wasted and filthy, his masculine beauty shone through. Maybe it was due to his resemblance to Mueric, but she thought not. When he was restored—and it was necessary to restore him, to learn Cydrich’s message—he would likely be more handsome than Mueric. He also seemed to be at the age of peak virility. Barely a man, but fully a man. She would have him. “Please, Your Majesty!” It had been a while since she had taken a lover. She had lived long enough to recognize cycles in her life, the times when some natural drives faded away, sometimes for years, until a youthful new servant or guard appeared to catch her fancy and reawaken her body. It didn’t happen often. She ruled the most powerful kingdom from the richest, most beautiful city in the world, which was surely filled with lusty young men. But she only left the palace’s security on the rarest of occasions. They could be dancing naked in the streets—if that wouldn’t get them turned over to the sorcelers—and she’d never know. When a man arrived to waken a new cycle of desire, she welcomed and acted on the change.

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The girl descended into incoherent begging and weeping. Her face was red, puffy, and wet. Neither drugs nor a compulsion charm could be used to prevent the changes distress caused in the girl’s body. They might taint the Renewal. Denua possessed devices to slow aging and preserve her health and body. She used them daily, but Renewal was necessary every few years. It wasn’t truly time yet, but she had decided to do it early in order to fully enjoy the new cycle of desire. She wanted to be ready for the peasant youth if he recovered. And if he didn’t, or if he proved to lack the drive and stamina she hoped for, he could be given to the sorcelers and she’d take someone else. Uliette’s second, Abel, perhaps. He would certainly be vigorous enough. So really there was no harm in Renewing early. The girl continued to weep, but she had given up begging. The last of the guards and sorcelers filed out, and Denua sealed the chamber’s door. She and the girl were alone, and the chamber’s sorcelrous locks would prevent any possible entry. Denua used her own lens to make one last examination. She inspected the entirety of the chamber, including the girl, the table, and the final item in the chamber: a glass-walled box. Its base was ringed by a thick band of gold, an early version of the shield she herself wore but too large to be carried on a person. The box contained nothing but a thickly padded chair with straps and hand and armrests. Inset in one of those rests was a lozenge of cut diamond, the chamber crystal’s companion. Its focus. The box was shielded to separate the vast energies of the crystal and the focus, and to protect Denua personally during Renewal. In order to receive energies from the focus, she would have to remove her personal shield. To extend her life, she would have to permit the possibility of assassination. So she used her lens to examine the box very thoroughly before entering. The girl seemed to have recovered her composure. “Mercy, Your Majesty. I—” Denua locked herself in the box. She removed all her devices, including her sword and shield, and set them aside so they couldn’t affect the Renewal. She was vulnerable now to the focus and its energies. Vulnerable to anything, really. She strapped herself in the chair. Outside, the girl strained against her bonds. Denua steeled herself and grasped the focus. Light came before the pain. She crushed her eyes closed as tightly as possible, but still she was blinded. Then the heat. It was as if the thinnest thread of iron had always been at the core of each bone and tooth, and now it turned white-hot. As her bones seared, the muscles in her body contracted, all pulling at once, all trying to tear free. She was bathed in sound. A scream that might have been hers, joined by another. And another sound, shrill like a hawk’s scream but rising higher and higher until it threatened to shatter everything. Denua shattered first.

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She floated in a place of endless darkness with no up or down. A scaffold of bars and staves and bands, all of a metal that was not metal, interlocking, stretched infinitely in every direction. She had no body, no way to turn to see, but she knew it was so. The parts of the construct nearest her moved. Staves rotated, releasing other elements from their notches. Those elements shifted and moved to a new configuration. The change reverberated through the structure, a wave of change that traveled as far as she could see. Then the pieces settled back into their new order and the staves turned again and— Her body broke through the surface of the world, and she heaved for air with deep, ragged breaths. She was lashed in a chair with her head thrown back. She looked up as she tried to get enough air, up through a pane of glass, up at a great crystal eye. She thought she saw movement in it, maybe a last glimpse of the construct behind the world, retreating into the crystal’s murky depth. When her panic settled and her lungs stopped burning, Denua looked again and saw nothing but distorted reflections in the crystal. The burning and light were gone, but every muscle ached. She knew from long experience that the aches would be with her for about two days. When Denua recovered enough to move, she unclasped the chair’s restraints. It took a few minutes more before she dared to stand. She donned her equipment and exited the box with great care. She paced around the chamber slowly at first but with growing confidence, and soon all the parts of her body seemed to fit right again. Denua unlocked the chamber door, and her people reentered. The college guardswomen went to the room’s center table to remove the girl’s body, a husk of dry skin shriveled tight against the bones. The body would be returned to the college for a hero’s burial, along with stories of the girl’s bravery and resolution to preserve her people. “Get Uliette’s security report,” Denua told one of her guards. “And get me a mirror. I want to see if I’ve changed at all.”

*** Evin woke in a soft bed. He felt far away from himself and didn’t have the strength to sit up. In fact, his head was so heavy that it was too difficult for him to look around. He was tired, but he wasn’t walking or frozen up by the pendant. Had it released him? He found he could move his fingers. He lifted a hand and slapped it down on the bed to hear the sound, just to be sure. There was a stir of excited conversation. People were in the room, getting closer. He was asleep before they arrived.

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The next time he woke, a lady was there, someone to help him be well again. Big cities had places for that, and there was a word for her, but Evin couldn’t think of it. No, healer. That was the word. She had milky skin, like a child, long black hair, wide eyes made larger by color painted on the eyelids, red lips, small and delicate ears. She was fairly pretty. She held a goblet, ornate with glittering gems, and she lifted his head to help him drink. The medicine was a surprisingly thin liquid. Astringent and burning, but he tasted hints of herbal flavors, cherry…wine? Did they give wine to people who were starved? He choked on it a bit, making a mess on the too-white bed. Ashamed, he searched for her eyes, but she dabbed his face with a cloth and laid the goblet aside. She urged him to settle back, leaned over him with something to clean the bedding, and tucked the sheet around him. While she worked, he glimpsed her breasts: small, tight, and perfect snow-white mounds. She wore a pendant with an odd, very old-looking stone cross. For a moment during her efforts, it hung down to touch him, and his blood turned to ice. He didn’t want it to touch him. Breath came in panicked sips, and he would have clawed away if only his body worked properly. But his struggles were so weak that she seemed not to even notice them. When she finished and moved away, he wanted to weep with relief. Yet he was grateful for her care. He tried to say thank you, but it didn’t work. His sounds were feeble. She was so beautiful! He slept again, and when he woke, he looked around for her. Others were there. They came to him. Someone dipped a porridge into his mouth, and others examined his body. He was ravenous, but they didn’t give him much, the stingy bastards, and the lady wasn’t there. He was sorry she wasn’t there. And then one time she was, with more wine. She was beautiful in a way Evin had never seen in women from the village. She stroked him like his mother had done when he was little, and she made him feel better. He was impatient to get well so he could get out of the bed. Or pull her into it. Oh, he wanted her. It felt right, but why? His mind was numb in every other way. He probed his thoughts and found only emptiness where feelings for Gareth should have been. He should have been angry or ashamed at that, but the numbness took those emotions, as well. Desire and arousal didn’t exist for him— except when she came near. What had Cydrich done to him? Days passed. Someone else, a man, was helping him get up. He was ashamed to find he had soiled himself. The man helped him to a chair with a chamber pot in it and, after, cleaned him up. Something was weird about that. When they returned to the bed, it was clean again. All too quick. Was he dreaming?

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Healers gave him more porridge. He lost track of how often he ate, but he was able to lift the spoon now, and they gave him more of the stuff. And when he was too tired to eat, they took it away. With a start, he remembered that he carried a message. He reached up to his neck. The pendant was gone, thank the lords. That was why he could rest. He wondered why nobody asked him about the message, but without the pendant there to force him to do anything about it, he kept quiet and waited and prayed to get his strength back.

*** “Ugh,” Evin said, struggling to get out of the bed by himself. He needed the chamber pot, and he was tired of being propped up like an old man. He was stronger these days. It was just a bit of a struggle to make it there, but he was determined to go on his own today. A healer, a woman—not the beautiful one he wished to see—stood close by. He waved her off and tottered to the chair. Yes, maybe he sat too heavily and maybe he had to drag the fabric of his gown back out from under his seat, but he made it. The healer clapped and smiled warmly at him. He smiled back and thought about how he would have bowed, if he were hearty again. He had a vision of falling face-first off the chamber pot and then shitting himself on the floor. Silliness would have to wait. After relieving himself, he stood, just a bit unstable, and the healer touched him back there with something that made him clean. “What is that thing? What are you cleaning me with?” She gave a little laugh. “It’s called a cleansing wand. Touch, and the soil is gone. They told me you were not from the city.” She was kind and pleasant. Happy to tutor him. Working his way back to the bed, he said, “No. I’m from a little village. Laforet. They make furniture there.” “Oh yes, fine pieces.” Too pleasant. “Mademoiselle, why is everyone being so nice to me? Why am I here in this infirmary?” “Here, let us get you back into bed. You remember you came to the palace, yes?” She took his arm and helped him into the bed. “Yes, but—” “The queen saw you and took pity. We are her personal healers, and you are her guest!” She beamed at him. He was supposed to be honored and grateful now. He fell back onto his pillow. “That makes sense. I didn’t give her his message, then.”

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“I don’t know what you mean, but she will see you again when you are well. Perhaps soon.” Soon. He could get this over with and be free to leave. But what happens then? Where can I go? He couldn’t go back to his village even if he knew the way. He would be blamed for Tyber’s murder. The mayor would never let him live. And what would he tell the queen when he saw her? Without the pendant to make him follow Cydrich’s instructions, would it be better to tell the truth? But from the queen’s point of view, Cydrich’s story might not really be a lie at all. Cydrich had found a monster and slain it. Could the queen understand that there were good monsters? “You are troubled?” the healer asked. “I don’t know.” He sighed. “I was sent by the demon hunter Cydrich to carry news to the queen. I’m worried about what will happen when I talk to her.” “Do you think she will punish you if she doesn’t like the demon hunter’s message?” Evin shrugged. “Why is Cydrich a demon hunter? Why him? And why do we need him?” She looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, “In your village, people may know little about the past. Do you know that our lands used to be part of a much greater kingdom, called an empire?” He shook his head. “The empire ruled all the world from a great city. But barbarians came from the east, armies of men and goblins, attacking again and again until they reached the city and destroyed it. The empire died away.” “So now we’re afraid of goblins,” Evin said. “Exactly. Hundreds of years ago, the barbarians came to Elyrria through Lombardie, but the queen drove them back. Sorcelrous devices protect the borders now. No army can march across our lands without the queen knowing immediately. To prevent corruption from within, the demon hunters destroy any creature from the underworld they can find.” Hundreds of years. Everyone knew the queen was undying, but…lords! After fighting monsters for hundreds of years, the queen would never believe Gareth’s innocence. Best to tell Cydrich’s lies, because in them, Evin was innocent of any crime. Telling the truth could never bring Gareth back or fix anything that had happened. It could only get Evin killed.

*** One day, the healers looked him over and pronounced him well. They gave him strange clothing, stuff that merchants who visited his village sometimes wore. Hose, braies, shirt, and doublet. The doublet was finer than any clothing he had ever seen, made of a soft fabric that had been dyed in a bright, rich blue. The clothing bothered

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him because he feared he would spoil it somehow and offend the queen. He might hate her for the ways she had hurt his family, but it would do no good to upset her. When he was presentable, guards led him from the healers’ rooms and into the castle’s corridors. The halls were purest white where the stone was left uncovered. Banners and flags hung from some walls, paintings from others, and occasionally they passed fine tables placed for the sole purpose of holding a pot or statue. The castle was bigger than he could have imagined. A woman joined the group. She stepped in beside him and introduced herself as the captain of the queen’s guard. After Evin greeted her, she said, “I’ll be present as you speak to the queen.” The guards led him to a small chamber and bade him enter. The guard captain went with him. The room was dominated by red fabrics and dark woods. Its major feature was a fireplace surrounded by shelves filled with codices, many more of them than Madame Tabeau ever owned. There were tall and well-padded chairs in front of the unlit fireplace. Beside each chair stood a little wooden table holding a jeweled goblet. The tables were ornate, expertly carved, and polished to a rich glow. He wondered if they had come from Laforet. As he crossed the room, he saw that someone was already sitting in one of the chairs. He got closer, and his heart leaped. It was the beautiful healer! She looked up at him and smiled. “Evin, please come sit.” “Uh, hello.” He sat across from her. Why was she here? To report on his recovery? “Your Majesty,” the guard captain said in greeting and stepped back. The woman nodded at the captain and said to Evin, “Now I will hear Cydrich’s news.” What? Evin looked at the guard captain, then the woman across from him. They’re serious. “You’re a healer, no? You can’t be the queen.” “Indeed I am the queen,” she said, a smile playing at her lips. He could see she was not offended by his mistake, but why? “Your—Your Majesty. You came to see me with the healers?” “Yes, I took an interest in you. You nearly died to bring me a report. Please speak now.” Trying to contain the shock and keep his face neutral, Evin relayed Cydrich’s fiction. When he was done, the queen sat back in her chair and said, “Cydrich has such a talent for finding these creatures. There never seemed to be so many before he began hunting them.” “Yes, Your Majesty,” the guard captain said. “Difficult to say if their number is increasing or if Cydrich has special expertise in finding ones already here.” The queen looked back to Evin. “Have you told us all Cydrich had to say?” He nodded. “I think so.”

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The captain said, “His story agrees with what he told us when we put the charm back on him.” Evin’s blood ran cold. Did they not trust him? Or were they testing Cydrich? Thank the lords I decided to tell Cydrich’s lies. The queen leaned forward again. “Evin, you have done what you were required to do, and you are perhaps well enough to travel. So now we must decide what to do with you.” He didn’t like the sound of that. “Yes, Your Majesty.” The queen left him to fret for a moment as she took the ornate, gem-encrusted goblet on the table beside her chair and drank. She bade him do the same. He picked up its twin that stood near his own elbow and tasted. Wine, the same dark red as before. He drank in hope that the alcohol would calm him. The queen said, “You are a strikingly handsome man. Has anyone ever told you that?” “N-no.” “One might think you were a noble, not a farm boy from a tiny village.” He was afraid to correct the “farm boy” assessment, so he had no reply. She smiled brightly. “I have decided to invite you to stay here at the castle for a while.” Evin stared numbly at her as she awaited his answer. He must have heard her correctly, but the words didn’t make sense. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I’m not sure I understand. You want me to stay here, in your castle…with you?” “Yes.” Impossible. He hadn’t forgotten that this was the woman who had hurt his family. It was her law that had trapped him under Tyber’s thumb. It was her law that had condemned his uncle. She’d taken Teffaine to consume with sorcelry. Without knowing her, he had hated this woman for years. He remembered this, that he had and should hate her, but the hatred was just a fact. It seemed very distant, like a thing shut away in a box. Had Cydrich’s sorcelry taken it away? And what did it really matter? He would be foolish to stay here and risk doing something stupid, but he would be far more foolish to offend the queen by rejecting her offer. He looked at her, and warmth spread through him, warming him like the wine. She wasn’t as he had imagined, not at all. She was beautiful, and she had been kind to him. “I see you’re smiling,” she said. “Does that mean you won’t refuse me?” “Thank you, Your Majesty. I will stay.” The queen stood, and he assumed the interview was over. He got up to leave but was taken by surprise when the queen stepped close and put a slim, white hand on his arm.

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The queen kissed him. It was just a little kiss, lips touching, mouths closed, but he had to close his eyes and restrain himself from clasping her body against his own.

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Chapter Eighteen Evin was shown to the castle’s private apartments where he would live with the queen. He was given his own room and an entire wardrobe of the fantastic and uncomfortable clothing, as well as a valet to help him dress properly. The queen’s chamberlain assigned a servant named Amaury to train him in the castle’s manners and customs. Amaury began by teaching how ensorceled devices influenced every aspect of life in the castle. People relied on them here, unlike in the villages, where they were practically unknown. Some sorcelry would ensure Evin’s safety, such as the devices that would prevent bringing poisons into any of the rooms Evin and Denua would frequent. Sorcelry could also be used for convenience. Amaury gave Evin a cleansing wand and told him to use it at least daily, especially to clean in his mouth. Amaury showed him how the stone at the tip of the wand could not be touched; although it was always dry, it slipped through grasping fingers. “When the spark wears out,” Amaury said, “you will be able to feel the stone a little. That tells you it is time to replace the wand. When the spark is gone, you will be able to grasp the stone and the wand won’t cleanse anymore.” Classes in manners and etiquette were the most painful. Every noble rank had a name and a manner of address completely unrelated to it. For example, a duke would be addressed as Your Grace. There were many noble ranks to learn. However, the worst aspect of etiquette had to be mealtime. In the private apartments, he could eat as he pleased and use his hands and a knife like a normal man. But at a feast, the rules were different. There were too many utensils and too many nonsensical customs. For example, each guest had a water servant. When you wanted a drink, you waved for the cup, drank, and handed it back to the servant. To let a cup touch the table would be a serious embarrassment. As ridiculous as it all was, Evin was a fast learner, and within a few days, the queen allowed him to be seen strolling the castle grounds with her and they could talk. She took his arm and asked him to call her Denua.

*** The guard captain, Uliette, had more lessons for him in palace security, but she allowed a brief distraction one morning when Evin said, “I’d like to learn more about the city. I’ve never been outside of my village before, and I don’t know anything of Parige.”

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She grinned. “I understand. A farm boy like you must have many questions about the capital.” Evin nodded. “I don’t know when the queen will feel that you’re ready to venture out in public, but if you wish, I can show you some maps.” Still can’t leave the castle. Evin controlled his frown and said, “Thank you.” On the way to a library to find maps, Uliette resumed the security briefing. “The most important thing to remember is that the private quarters are maintained as a sanctuary for you and Queen Denua. Don’t let anyone else in the private areas, not even servants from other parts of the castle. If you find anyone unusual, report them to the queen or to me immediately. Later you’ll learn who my trusted lieutenants are, and you can report to them as well.” “What about you?” She shook her head, lips thin. “I’ll be in as needed, but I will never ask you to help me gain entry. If I ever do, something is wrong and you must not comply. You’ve learned the hard way about compulsion charms.” Evin’s cheeks heated, and he scowled. No need to mention that lesson. He occasionally woke in a cold sweat after nightmares about Cydrich’s pendant dominating him. He would never forget. “So, never accept any kind of gift, especially if someone asks you to carry it into the private quarters. There are servants for the private areas—your valets and such—but the ones from the public and private sections of the castle do not mix.” “I understand.” “Good. There are also passages for servants and security behind disguised doors. You must never enter them unless Denua or one of my people escorts you there for safety.” They arrived at a set of wide, wooden doors carved to depict a religious scene: Denua receiving the fruit of knowledge from Sophia. Uliette pulled open the wide door and motioned for Evin to enter. The room took his breath away. Though a king’s library had been stored in the red study where his beloved healer had revealed she was the queen, this vast room contained many times as much. Scrolls, codices, and other items rested on rows of shelves and on desks of burnished and gleaming wood. Uliette smiled at his bemusement and shouldered past him to a shelf of scrolls. She pulled one out and spread it for him on a desk. “Parige,” she said. The map was of an oblong city divided by a river. Two isles stood in the river, with bridges connecting them to the north and south shores. One isle contained the outline of a great wall with parapets. Evin pointed at it. “I remember this. I walked across a wide bridge. Is this the palace?”

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“Yes. Very good. What else do you remember?” He shook his head. “Not much. It was all kind of a blur. I was focused on getting to the castle because I knew that’s where I had to be.” “The compulsion.” “What’s this large place?” He pointed to a spot on the north bank. “That’s a prison. And here to the south is an area dominated by the church and its schools and universities.” “And this?” Evin pointed to another castlelike structure. “That,” said Uliette, “is the College of Handmaidens.” Evin’s breath caught in his chest from surprise. Aware that Uliette was observing him, he tried to contain the shock. “Handmaidens. I didn’t know they had a college. What’s it for?” Uliette studied him for a bit before answering. He held his face as best he could in a mien of mild curiosity. She said, “The handmaidens must train themselves to physical perfection before volunteering to preserve the kingdom by sacrificing themselves to extend Denua’s life.” Volunteering. Is that what they called it? Did he dare ask further about the handmaidens? Maybe later. Ask someone else. Mustn’t appear too curious. “And this?” Evin asked, pointing randomly at another large structure shown on the map. But he wasn’t interested in Uliette’s reply. A slow, secret fire kindled in him, a desire to learn. If they had to train for years, maybe Teffaine hadn’t finished. His sister might still be alive.

*** The first time Evin went with Denua to her bed was actually intimidating. He hadn’t seen what was behind a woman’s robes since his mother and sister when he was very small, and he wasn’t sure he’d know what to do without a cock to work on. Denua was very good. She knew how to use her mouth, and unlike the friends he grew up with, she seemed to understand that she could do things to help him want to please her more. Maybe she had to please him too, because she wanted him to stay hard. Maybe it would be difficult for a woman to simply use a man for pleasure. The only awkward moment was when she drove him to that place where he had to fuck her, he was going mad to fuck her, and he did something stupid. Evin gathered his spit and drooled a nice, thick gob onto his middle and index fingers. Then he licked it around to make them all slick. “Darling, what are you doing?” Denua asked. He drew his hand away from his face. The etiquette classes hadn’t included instruction on whether it was okay to say I want to fuck you now to his queen.

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“I’m…I’m ready,” he said. “I want to make you ready, you see?” She laughed and reached for him. With one hand on his ass and another kneading his cock, turning his mind back to the want, she guided him into her. She had been ready all along. How could he know her body did that by itself? But the fucking was good, both times that morning. He was a little sorry she couldn’t ever do him back, but he resolved to talk to guardsmen and servants as he could, to find out discreetly what they got up to, and hopefully learn that it would be okay to at least ask her to put her fingers inside him. After they finished, Denua rang for a servant so she could order a lunch to be served. As they waited for the servant’s knock, Evin experimented with her body a little more and made her squirm. They laughed together and played. But then when time passed and the servant didn’t come, Denua left the bed naked except for the jewelry she always wore and slipped on a gown. Evin grabbed a robe for himself—it would take too long to dress in his silly finery—and followed as she left the room. As they walked together, they passed an intersection of hallways. In the adjoining hall, they saw a man wearing the bright robes and red sash of a blood sorceler. Evin had been in the castle long enough to meet a few of Denua’s pet sorcelers. But this one’s back was turned. Evin couldn’t tell who he was. The sorceler pulled at the corner of a tapestry. A light cord wrapped around his arm, from which hung the skull of a small animal. Perhaps a cat. The skull leaped and fell back repeatedly, tugging on its length of cord, but the man was absorbed in his examinations and did not seem to notice. Having seen so much sorcelry in the past weeks, Evin thought nothing special of it until Denua pushed him behind her. She reached into a loose sleeve of her gown and pulled free a bit of jewelry, which snapped open and unfolded. In an instant, it became a sword with a curved, ornately inscribed blade. She never broke her stride toward the robed man. “What’s happening?” Evin asked. The man started at the sound of Evin’s voice. He turned toward them with a look of dismay, and as he turned, he reached into a bag at his waist, drew out a dagger, and flipped it toward them. It flew unerringly to Denua’s eye. A flash like lightning blinded Evin. “Denua!” The reply was a strangled, guttural sound, followed by splattering and then the smack of a body falling to the unforgiving stone. “Denua!” “Hush, Evin.” He blinked, trying to clear his sight. When he could see again, Denua stood over the man’s dying body. She had cut him in two.

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The sorceler’s dagger lay at one side of the hall, its blade melted and useless. A scarlet pool spread rapidly across the floor. The skull on the rope danced in the blood like a child in a mud puddle, sending tiny splashes up to fall on Denua and the tapestries. It had happened so fast. Denua and the sorceler fought to the death without exchanging a single word. Why? That man wasn’t supposed to be here. Denua still held the sword up. “Stay behind me. I’ll look for other intruders and learn what happened to the guards.” The knife had hit her in the eye. Evin was sure that was what he’d seen. If she hadn’t pushed him back, he’d be dead. She was protected somehow, that much was obvious. If he’d gone by himself to learn why her servant hadn’t come, the sorceler would have killed him instantly, silently, with no effort at all. At first Denua and Evin left a trail of red footprints on the white floors as they searched. Evin didn’t want Denua to put herself in any more danger. She had the protection and the ensorceled sword, but still he felt foolish obeying her order to stand behind. They went back the way they had come, to Denua’s bedchamber. Along the way, they occasionally passed the cord of an alarm bell. “Shall I ring for the guard?” Evin asked. “No. I want to retrieve the intruder’s devices before anyone else comes.” That sounded wrong. It sounded unsafe. Why not order someone else to do it? When they arrived at the bedchamber and discovered it empty, Denua gathered up a few items, including a cleansing wand, and they continued their search in other rooms. As they approached the servants’ quarters, Evin’s ears did a strange thing. It was as if he had plunged under the surface of the river. There was a sound of great pressure, followed by no sound at all. He opened his mouth to ask Denua if she felt it too, but nothing came out. She turned to him, pointed at her ear, and nodded. She continued to the servant’s quarters, where they found an ornately inscribed metal disk attached so that it covered the door crack. Denua twisted it, and the disk fell away. The pressure in Evin’s ears changed in a painful rush, and sound returned. A heavy, rhythmic thumping sounded from the other side of the door but faltered almost immediately. Denua opened the door and went in. Servants, a man and two women, stood around a table. “Are you well?” Denua asked. The elder of the women said, “Yes, Your Majesty. Something stopped our ears, and we couldn’t get out of the room! Did you hear us pounding?” She pointed at the table.

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Ah. They were lifting and dropping it. “No, but you did well to try. Remain here. I will sound an alarm myself, shortly.” “Yes, Your Majesty.” Denua closed the door and moved on with Evin in tow. No guards stood at the post in the entrance hall. Evin decided it was probably safe to ask about the sorceler. “Was he one of yours, Denua? Did he turn against you?” “It is a risk of working with such people. Occasionally one thinks he has invented an assassination device that will work.” Evin wondered how often. And how often those devices did work—on people who happened to stand too close to Denua at the wrong moment. But the thing the sorceler had on his arm, pulling urgently like a child wanting attention… Was it to warn him of Denua’s approach? Had she arrived early as he set up a trap, or was he there for some other purpose altogether? After finding no other intruders, they returned to the dead man. Near the body, the smells of blood and tripe were noxious. Evin’s stomach rebelled, and to his shame, he vomited. Denua ignored it. “Do not approach the body or any of his belongings.” He didn’t want her to get near them, either. He tried to calm himself with the thought that, if the intruding sorceler had any device that would defeat her protection, he probably would have used it first. She sprinkled a powder over the corpse. Flesh and bone dissolved into a red jelly, and when it was done, she used a cleansing wand to eliminate it. That part of the floor was pristine again. All that remained were the sorceler’s now clean robes, the bag, and the leaping, tumbling skull tapping and chipping itself against the stone floor. Denua handed the cleansing wand to Evin. “Clean yourself.” She didn’t mention the mess he’d made or the blood-spattered tapestries, but he planned to cleanse everything. Denua took the sorceler’s items for examination, including the melted dagger. “There may be enough spark to determine the ensorcelment. I would know why he thought it could penetrate my shield.” An ensorceled sword and shield. No wonder she never takes the jewelry off. Denua grasped the leaping skull tightly and pried open its mouth. A strand of hair, black and long enough to be one of hers, wound around its teeth. She removed it, and the skull ceased its struggles.

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Chapter Nineteen Evin fumbled with his collar as he waited for the ensorceled carriage that would take him and his entourage to Parige’s most opulent shopping district. His valet had outfitted him with a brocaded doublet with a stiff, high collar. Over this he wore a dark blue cloak, which was getting uncomfortably hot in the late autumn day. The costume may befit his new position as the queen’s suitor, but to Evin it was a mild form of torture. Evin stood with his guards at the base of the castle’s marble steps, before a wide pad of bone white cobblestones made bright by the morning sun. Evin imagined they would be blinding later in the day. The four guards stood stiffly, making no remark as Evin continued to fidget with his clothing. A winged shadow crossed over the group, chasing across the ground until it reached the cobblestone pad. The carriage had arrived. Evin looked up at it in awe. Wings made of wood and fabric beat the air with decreasing force as it settled to the cobblestone pad. The coach was painted in brilliant white with light traces of gold filigree around the edges and windows of the coach box and along the wooden spars of the wings’ suspension. As the wings halted and tucked themselves away in their niches at the top of the coach box, Evin felt blood drain from his face. He did not like the idea of traveling in the sorceled coach, especially at the height necessary to cross the castle wall. However, he was determined not to be a frightened child. He would hide his discomfort as much as possible. Despite the roiling of his stomach, he promised himself he would not vomit. But he also decided to sit very close to an open window during flight. A footman climbed down from his perch and swung open the coach-box door. Evin stepped in, settled on the padded, red velvet seat, and placed his hands in his lap, willing them to be still. His guards took their posts, standing on little platforms attached to the lower four corners of the coach. After they secured themselves to the coach box with small belts, the footman checked them. Then he leaned inside to verify that Evin was settled safely. “By your leave, your honor.” And when Evin looked at him blankly, he explained. “Shall we depart now?” “Ah. Yes.” A bead of sweat trickled down Evin’s forehead. The footman nodded agreement, bowing slightly as he stepped back. He closed and secured the door, then climbed back up to sit with the driver on his perch.

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The carriage’s wings extended smoothly out from the coach. The tips rose up at once and quickly beat back down. With an unsteady surge that made Evin’s stomach drop, the carriage leaped into the air. A few more beats and the vehicle was already too high for Evin’s comfort.

*** The carriage alighted in a wide space near the gated entrance to the market district. Evin exited as soon as the footman opened the door. He was wobbly with relief. It took a few deep breaths to get himself under control while his escort formed up. When he was ready, he nodded at his guards and everyone started toward the gate. Evin was relieved in another way too. He had been Denua’s guest for many weeks. Not only had he become accustomed to the comforts and customs of the castle—well, except for when he had to imitate nonsensical manners—but he had also begun to worry that Denua would object to small freedoms, such as allowing him to shop on his own. As far as he knew, she never left the castle. But when Evin had told Denua he wanted his parents to know he was safe, she surprised him by offering to let him shop for small gifts to send along with his tidings. He jumped at the chance. Somehow he had to let Mama and Papa know he was all right, but secretly. The villagers, especially Tyber’s father, would believe he was a murderer. Evin couldn’t risk that they might contact the queen. A lump formed in his throat. What would his parents believe? Would they think he was a murderer, or the slave of a murderous demon? And when they found out he was alive, taken as a lover by the same queen who had decreed their daughter’s death? He wondered which news would be worse. The worst news of all, which he would keep forever from his parents, was that he was not exactly a prisoner. He would let them believe he was trapped here just as they were in Laforet. Indeed it was the truth, but there was a deeper truth. Being here was exactly what he wanted. What a stupid idea, that he could walk in from the backwoods and become the queen’s suitor. Impossible. But they were drawn irresistibly to one another. He didn’t want to leave, and he was sure that she wouldn’t let him go. She wanted him. She was fascinated with him, just like Tyber and the others back home had been. But why? Why was everyone interested in him? What made him special? And he had never been interested in women before. Why Denua? Everything was wrong and confusing. The one hope he clung to was that he might find out more about what had happened to Teffaine. If he found she was alive, perhaps Denua would release her, let her go home. Loving Denua would be forgivable if he could use that love to heal his family. He shook his head to clear it as he entered the shopping district’s gate.

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A wide avenue stretched before him with a row of luxury storefronts down each side, and in the center was an area where tent canopies covered temporary vending stalls. Shoppers strolled down the street and through the stalls, the men in their finery and the women wearing brightly colored gowns and carrying parasols. Occasionally someone would make a purchase and a servant would rush away to carry the treasure to a home or carriage. Evin stood a moment to watch the bustle and take in the sights and smells of the market. He wasn’t looking forward to going into the snootier shops, so he decided to visit the stalls in the open air first. Evin detected a mouthwatering aroma of meat pies and considered buying one. But first he simply walked to the closest stall to see what was on offer. The stall keeper, an old woman, saw the palace guards. She feigned utter delight to see Evin. “Welcome, your lordship! Might I demonstrate any item?” Evin was nervous about the mistaken honorific. He glanced at his guards, but they offered no reaction. “I don’t have a title, madame.” “Ah, your honor,” she said. “What are these things?” Evin scanned the array of objects. “This”—she touched a wand—“be a cleansing wand that remove dirt from your honor’s loverly clothes.” “I’m familiar with those.” “I sell many a one to fine dandies—not gentlemen such as your honor, acourse—who need a way to…freshen themselves after a hard night on the town. Before going home to the little lady, as it be.” “And these green shells here. How are they sorceled?” “Ah, now these loverlies are also popular with the dandies! There be a special powder within, to help a reveler keep vital during those forementioned nights on the town.” “I see.” “And for the morning after, this be the trick.” She handed him a small stone from the other end of her lineup. When she put it into his palm, a wave of warmth washed quickly through him. “Touch it to dispel all effects of drink and drunkenness.” Indeed he felt refreshed, as if all the wine he had drunk these weeks in the palace had dulled him and, by touching the stone, he returned fully to life. All the stall keeper’s items held simple sorcelments that would ease small aspects of daily life. As Amaury had explained, the queen permitted the sale of such objects because of their limited and unthreatening utility. Even so, they were items rarely if ever seen in Evin’s village. The cleansing wand in particular was useful enough to be a good gift for his mother but not so exotic as to make other village folk jealous. In the end, he purchased a cleansing wand for his mother and soberstones for his father and himself.

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Evin finished his purchase, then asked the way to a jewelry shop Uliette had mentioned. The stall keeper knew of it, and so after he understood her directions, he started to go there. As his group passed the stall where the meat pies were sold, his eye was drawn to the man who cooked the pies on a griddle suspended above a fire pit. The cook’s hair was black and curly, and he had a strip of beard along the jawline, reminding Evin strongly of— “Gareth,” he whispered, and time stopped. Something crashed open and flooded within him, grief that had been shut away until this moment. Evin stumbled over to the wooden bench behind the meat pie vendor’s stall. He sat down heavily, overcome by a whirlwind of misery. His hands shook. He stared down at them, seeing them from far away. It was as if he were in the bottom of a well, looking up at a picture of the world. Everything was upside down inside. Oh, Gareth, no. Evin had promised to protect him but had only got him killed. And Gareth had loved Evin; he’d said as much by mistake. How had Evin repaid his trust and love? What kind of monster could betray someone so thoroughly, then betray his memory by forgetting? What is wrong with me? His nose was running. He snuffled and used a rough, brocaded sleeve to dry his eyes, then gave up. He crossed his arms on his knees and bent to press his face into them. He rocked a little as he cried, ignoring a hand on his shoulder and whoever was asking if he was all right.

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Chapter Twenty Simone rapped on the sitting room door. Evin opened it shortly but scowled when he saw her and simply returned to sprawl in one of the chairs positioned before the unlit fireplace. He bade her sit with a languid gesture. Doesn’t take long to learn a noble’s petulance, I suppose. She took a seat. “I heard there was some trouble in the market today,” she said. He made an exasperated noise. “How much trouble am I gonna be in for that? I had a weak moment. I’m tired of hearing about it already.” She noted his half-empty goblet on the table by his chair. He’s still upset. Drinking to calm himself. “I’m afraid you have no choice, son. I must learn what happened and why. My men and I will protect the queen. This is to protect you too.” “You weren’t there. That old lady was nice to me. She sold me some trinkets and she was polite and they tore her stand apart. They were talking about taking her to the dungeon to make her say what she did to me, but she didn’t do anything!” His hands shook as he drank, but he glared at her defiantly. “What did you touch when you were at the market?” “The stuff I bought. The guards took it all. Nothing else. Nobody touched me before I got sad. Nobody.” She sat back in her chair and appraised him. Naturally he’s angry, because he’s embarrassed. Yes, but his concern for the old woman seemed sincere. How many pretty Parigian youths would care a fig about the merchant woman? She softened her voice. “You just felt upset? You don’t think anyone did anything to you in the market?” “Exactly. How many times do I have to say it?” “No more. I believe you. All right?” Evin’s eyes searched her face for a moment; then he visibly relaxed. He adjusted himself in the chair as if a parent had scolded him for his posture. “Okay. Thank you.” “Will you tell me what upset you?” His gaze moved away. “Everything’s changed. Don’t you understand that?” “Because you live in the palace now?” “Yes. And…” “You can tell me, Evin. It’s okay.”

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He closed his eyes for a moment, and a look crossed his face. A forlorn sadness that he must not want her to see, because he hid it almost immediately. All expression vanished from his face. Unexpected sympathy welled up in her, a foolish desire to fix everything for him. “I had a friend,” he said in a controlled voice. “He was good. And he died. Someone at the market looked like him.” “Do you want to tell me about him?” He shook his head and used fingertips to wipe at his eyes. “You were hunting the demon that killed your friend when Cydrich—” “Used me. Almost killed me.” “Yes,” she answered softly. No doubt that his distress was genuine. It hadn’t been an attack at the market, after all. He just needed to grieve. It’s a wonder he held together this long. But no, it wasn’t a wonder. He was strong. How many men would have been driven insane by what Cydrich had done, compelling Evin to make the long march without rest as his body failed, dying of thirst? Anyone would have gone mad. I would have. And what came after? He was an invalid here in the palace for weeks. Brought back to health only because Denua wanted him. Because she had the sorcelry to keep him. Because he was too pretty a treasure to pass up. Let him mourn his friend. At least that part of his mind is his own. Evin had finished wiping at his eyes. He watched her now with a measuring look, and she took the uncomfortable notion that he could hear her thoughts. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve been rude. Would you like some wine, Captain?” He held his goblet out to her. “No! No. I need to go. I’ve done what I needed to do here.” He nodded, his gaze locked on her own. “Except I think I can help you feel better about today. Her Majesty’s sorcelers are required to examine the things we bring into the palace. They will return all the devices you purchased, as long as none are tainted with blood sorcelry. They would have been borrowed from you for examination no matter what. Do you see?” “Oh. Yes. I guess so. But the old woman—” “She is fine. She’s not in the dungeon. We know where she is, and she will go to the dungeon if any of the items you bought are tainted, but honestly, I don’t expect it.” “It’s just, she was perfectly nice, like anybody here in the castle. She didn’t deserve the way they treated her.” “Well, the queen might be willing to pay her something to make up for the trouble. I could ask. Would you like that?”

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“Yes. Please.” He seemed honestly relieved by the promise of making amends to an old merchant who meant less than nothing to anyone. Certainly anyone Simone Uliette knew. Sweet farm boy. Denua’s sweet farm boy.

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Chapter Twenty-one Gareth collapsed into his cot after another long night of training. Devinyeau told him why he had been trained with weapons. The bow was for enemies who used ranged weapons against him from high up. The sword would be used as Father taught him, to deflect blows and cut the arms off attackers before they got too close. But Gareth had a special weapon. The claw of his free hand. In some ways it would be his best, because he couldn’t drop it and he could kill with it no matter how close a foe came. No matter how many leaped on him, he could tear them all up. Cydrich told him that if anyone managed to chop off his hand or arm, he should pick it up and stick it back on, so it could heal and he wouldn’t have to wait for it to regrow. But nobody told him who he would fight or why. He curled up in the bed, exhausted but trying to stay awake to see at least a little of the daylight through his cell’s window. Months ago when he lived with his parents, he might have thought having the window a great kindness, especially because it didn’t have bars. He could climb out of it at any time. He could if he were free. When sunlight warmed his cheek, he sighed and rolled onto his back. Evin stood watching from the corner of the room. “You shouldn’t be here,” Gareth said. “I’ll only stay a little while.” Evin moved to the side of the cot and put his hands on Gareth’s body. Gareth discovered he had forgotten his nightshirt. He lay naked under Evin’s hands, and they warmed him so. Evin stroked Gareth’s stomach, letting his hands curl over each of the bunched muscles. He put a finger, white as bone against a field of grass, into the cup of Gareth’s navel and stroked around it. Stretching it as if preparing it for fucking. His touch tickled Gareth down to his spine. Gareth put a hand on Evin’s soft back cheek, petting it, kneading it gently. “I didn’t have my bath today. I was too tired.” “You always are. All the training. You know I don’t mind.” Evin moved his hands apart. He took Gareth’s cock and stroked gently, making the sheath of skin cover and reveal the tip. It throbbed in its hardness. So many months had passed since he’d been touched with small, hot hands. Evin stroked fingers around his

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nipples too and pinched them, sending bolts of the good tickle flashing through him between the places Evin stroked. He wanted to close his eyes and experience touch alone, but then he wouldn’t be able to watch Evin. The copper in his hair really was ablaze in the day, just like Gareth used to imagine. It looked dangerous to touch. No matter what Evin said, he was the beautiful one. With his soft, sure smile. Kind eyes. Perfect white skin and fuzziness. He knew what he did to Gareth, the fires he kindled with his touches, with his kisses, with every part of his body. Fires that burned without hurting, that made Gareth want to burn with him forever and ever. And he looked down at Gareth, and whatever he saw in Gareth made him smile. It would be worth enduring anything to keep him safe. Evin’s breeches dropped away, and Gareth pressed in to get his finger to the place Evin liked. As he touched the warm hole, he found it already slick with spit. Plenty. “I prepared for you. See?” Evin asked. “I want you inside. I want us to join, like we’re supposed to.” “Like we can’t no more,” Gareth said. He spat in his hand and took over for Evin stroking his cock. Evin said, “It’s not your fault. You said you’d believe me.” “No, not my fault. My parents were going to give me to him anyway. I got to be happy for a little while. You knew me and let me love you.” Evin straddled Gareth’s body and engulfed him, quick as a mouth or stroking hand. They moaned together. Evin’s hot, quivering tightness embraced him completely. “You’re good at everything we try,” Evin said. And in a moment, he started to move. Gareth did have to close his eyes then, because like rubbing sticks together, the slick places of their flesh stroked together inside Evin and caught flame. Licks and tongues of it raced up and down Gareth’s cock, burning in the good way, making him want to burn more. That was what he needed to tell Evin. Evin surged above him, holding to Gareth’s chest—not forgetting to knead Gareth’s nipples—clenching and rising and falling, bringing Gareth close. The fire took over, and Gareth couldn’t remain still. He moved his hips; he couldn’t stop it. He rose to meet as Evin fell, slamming into him. “I love it. I love it,” Evin said. He fucked faster and harder. His own breath came in gasps, and still Evin begged for more. He could feel the tip of his cock hitting that perfect place inside Evin, and he balanced on the edge. “Oh, Gareth, I love it!”

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They broke together, and floods came to calm the fires. Gareth’s seed pulsed into Evin again and again, and it seemed Evin matched every drop. Gareth drifted down slowly. Evin still knelt, impaled on him. Still smiling at whatever he saw in Gareth. Still smiling, but the words he spoke were simple truth. “All of this is finished,” Evin said. “I know,” Gareth said. “I have to do the job soon.” “Yes.” “Remember, I asked if I’m cursed for something I haven’t done yet?” “It’s not your fault.” “I’m sorry, Evin. I don’t know what it is, but I think I have to do it now. I can’t stop it. I can’t, or he’ll hurt you and keep hurting you till you die.” “You’re going to protect me.” Evin swirled his hand in the seed on Gareth’s chest. “I’m supposed to kill people, I think. Lots of real people, not like me. I don’t want to.” Evin nodded. “You try to find a way to take the blame for everything.” Gareth looked out to the sunlit day. He wouldn’t be able to say it if he saw Evin’s face. “When you go back, will you tell them? Will you warn them? Tell them about the fire. Tell everyone about the fire. If they can burn me first, I won’t have to kill nobody, and you’ll be safe forever.” Silence. “Evin? I told you I loved you once. On accident, but it’s true. Before, when it was you and me… You never said—” Gareth looked back from the window and found he was alone in the cell.

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Chapter Twenty-two Gareth sat inside Cydrich’s traveling wagon as it rattled and jounced on a rough road through the woods. They had left the good road a while ago. The wagon was a little house on a cart. Gareth could look out the window to see the trees passing by. He had seen signs along the way too. If only he could read, he might know where they were. Gareth was in the larger of the wagon’s two rooms, in the back. He shared the space with a coffin-sized wooden box locked with bands and seals, a chest of Gareth’s soldier equipment, bags of horse feed, and bags of powder in many colors, which Cydrich said would make paint. Cydrich was in the wagon’s other little room, the one with a bed and a chair, making what he called his final preparations. He had put a pendant on the horse, one that somehow made it pull them wherever he intended to go. He had to, because the horse was so frightened of Gareth that it would only have tried to run away. They left the tree line and trundled into a field. Dawn would come soon. The sky had begun its change from nighttime blue to daytime white. But with snow everywhere, they wouldn’t be hidden even in what remained of the darkness. The cart stopped moving. Cydrich came out of his room. He was dressed in a black robe with a hood. He grinned at Gareth, picked his way through the cart, took a feed bag, and left through the wide back door. Gareth followed. He halted for a moment when he saw the great wall on the other side of the field, which stood at least four times his height and curved away into the distance in either direction. Behind it, snowy rooftops and, much farther behind, impossibly large buildings. Not like Cydrich’s home, which was a single tower, but great buildings that sprouted towers. Rhyd had once said the world contained hamlets and villages and towns and cities and kingdoms. Gareth wondered which this place was. Cydrich had put the feed bag on the horse’s bridle and ordered it to eat. The pendant hanging on its neck forced it to do so. It stood unnaturally still and ate, though its eyes rolled without ceasing. It could smell Gareth even when he was inside the wagon, he presumed. It had marched for leagues in terror of him. The thought made him sick. He put a hand on the horse’s rump to soothe it, to demonstrate that he didn’t want to eat it or hurt it at all.

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“Leave it,” Cydrich said. “It will never calm down as long as you’re here.” “I’m sorry,” Gareth told the horse. Cydrich came over. “This is Parige, Gareth. Have you heard of it? The capital city where the queen lives.” A city, then. Still in Elyrria. “Today you do your job. Bring the large box. Take it to the field and stand it on end.” Gareth did as he was told. Cydrich unlocked the box’s seals and bands, handing each to Gareth as he removed them. “Put these into the wagon. Strap on your weapons and gear and return.” The armor Gareth donned was leather with great metal plates attached to it. It was carefully designed to fit him, made so that he could put it on by himself. Unlike the knights of old, he had no squire. Gareth’s gloves had leather palms and a metal back but no fingers: He would be able to wear them properly whether his hands ended in fingers or claws. He sheathed a sword in a scabbard hanging from his belt, slipped a quiver and a bow over his back, and covered himself with a fullface helmet. Then he returned to Cydrich. Cydrich had finished unfolding the wooden box, revealing that it contained a man-sized mirror within a heavy frame. Its surface was clean now, showing no trace of the blood that once coated it. Gareth’s gut wrenched at the memory of how Cydrich had tortured him to ensorcel it. “Come closer, boy; no need to be afraid. There, now, stand close so you can see yourself.” In the depths of the glass, reflections were strange and imperfect. Behind him, the slowly brightening sky was clear and the snow covering the field was pristine, almost luminous; but in the reflection, a green-black smoke roiled, leaving only a couple of feet of visibility. As Gareth moved closer, he saw his reflection emerge, wavering and indistinct, from the smoke. It quickly grew more solid, and after a few seconds the smoke swirled away into the background. Gareth looked at a perfect image of himself, a green-skinned soldier with eyes like full yellow moons showing through his helmet’s eye slits. “Put your hand up to the glass. Touch it.” He reached out to the mirror. He expected to find a cold, flat, unyielding surface. Instead his fingertips touched flesh. With a slight ripple, the glass disappeared and the mirror became a doorway to that other dark and hazy world. “Good. Help him. Reach in and pull him out.” Gareth was confused, but he took his image by the hand and led him out of the mirror. The sorceler motioned for them to step toward him and stand side by side. Cydrich would want their full attention, but Gareth couldn’t help turning his head just enough to share amazed glances with his twin.

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Cydrich looked both of them over, cackling to himself. He lifted the image’s arms, pulled off its helmet, touched its face. “Tell me,” he said to the image, “do you know who I am? Where we are?” “Parige,” said the new Gareth. “You didn’t answer fully. Who am I?” “You’re Cydrich. A monster. You made me come here.” “The woman you called mother, what was her name?” “Magareta.” Cydrich’s smile widened. “You are perfect, my boy. Perfect!” He beamed proudly at the confused pair for a moment; then his face hardened again, and he returned to the execution of his plans. “Before you ask, yes, you are two people who are both exactly the same. This is what the mirror does, and it has enough spark to make many more of you than we will need. “I’m going to speak as clearly as I can, and you must listen well. “The mirror has two sides. In a moment, we will go back and I will position one of you on each side. You are to walk close, just like before, help your new brothers out, then walk out into the field and rest. But be ready to defend us if anyone tries to interfere. As each one emerges from the mirror, he is to turn around and help the next before going to rest. You will not break the chain. Before night falls, you will be an army of thousands and we will take this city. Do you understand?” Gareth nodded in stunned silence. “Good. As you gather in the field, I will mark your leathers in various colors. Remember your color group. Now let’s begin.”

*** Evin was eating lunch with Denua when one of her guards arrived with news of armed men massing outside the city. “Impossible,” Denua said. She snatched the man’s proffered message parchment and began to read. Evin grew worried as he looked on. Why hadn’t her devices warned her? If any significant force of men crossed or gathered on Elyrrian soil, she was supposed to know. Had someone found a way to defeat her alarms? But he kept his questions to himself. “Thousands!” The guard remained quiet. “Get my war marshal. Tell him to mass whatever troops he can on the southwest side of the city. Go!” “Yes, Your Majesty.” The guard nodded respectfully at Evin as he brushed past to leave. “Evin, take this report to Captain Uliette and give her these orders. Tell her to get every carriage she can conscript into the air. Load them with anyone who can

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shoot a bow. Tell her we have to thin that army out before it can march, delay it while we coordinate a defense.” Evin took the message and hastened to the door. He had seen the look of shock on her face. She was worried. Did that mean she thought her devices wouldn’t be enough to defend the city if there was no time to call up an army?

*** Cydrich had picked some of his troops to help him paint, and they worked through the ranks as quickly as they could. They stopped at each unmarked warrior and stroked a small splash of color on his arm, then moved on. The divisions would be rough, but division size didn’t matter as much as having useful identification as quickly as possible. Cydrich had planned this day for nearly forty years, since encountering that page of the Grimoire Curieuse which indicated that a certain sword—one he knew now rotted, unprotected in a Parigian museum—could penetrate Denua’s shield. She didn’t even know the dangerous power she had in her grasp. He’d spent decades quietly collecting scattered pieces of the grimoire, learning how to access the sword’s power; and when Denua refused his request to take the sword “for study,” it had cost more years yet to prepare himself to take it from her. He could not enter the city with sorcelrous weapons. Denua’s scryers would know instantly. But trying for the sword alone and unarmed? Cydrich was not so foolhardy. He went back to his studies and spent the years necessary to invent devices that would bring forth his undying soldiers. Tonight, at long last, he would enter Parige carrying almost no sorcelry—but surrounded by an invincible army. Patience and planning were Cydrich’s virtues. Now the most dangerous moment had finally arrived: the time to strike and learn how his enemy would respond. He didn’t have to wait long. Within the hour, flights of carriages leaped over the city wall and flew over his army. Archers fired arrows from them. It made him laugh. They couldn’t possibly carry fire in the carriages, so unless they used ensorceled arrows—which was unlikely—these defenders couldn’t harm his army at all. Cydrich turned to the man next to him. “Do not waste your—” An arrow slammed into that one’s skull, and he sagged to the ground. Cydrich moved on to the next. “Do not waste your arrows. They can’t hurt us. If anyone gets hit like that”—he pointed to the fallen one—“pull out the arrow so he can heal. Tell the rest.” Cydrich himself pulled the arrow out of the fallen one. Lucky shot. It would be another test of Cydrich’s sorcelry if any of the defenders’ arrows found its mark in his body. He didn’t relish the thought of that test—regardless of

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how quickly he would be healed, as a human, Cydrich would feel pain more acutely than Gareth—but he accepted the risk. The defenders didn’t get off many shots as they flew over his army, and when they turned to make another pass, a few of the carriages collided and fell from the sky. Clearly, Denua had conscripted civilians in order to save her troops for the actual invasion. When the defenders realized Cydrich’s army wouldn’t fight back, they made slower passes and took down more men. And yet after every pass, more men stood up. And every moment, new soldiers came from the mirror to keep his army growing. At least they were supposed to. It occurred to him to go check whether this attack had distracted the ones at the mirror and broken the chain. Cydrich pushed his way through the crowd to get there. He found wounded lying around the device, some only now stirring, but it seemed others had discovered the break and come back to make more duplicates themselves while the wounded recovered. Gareth really was bright and very motivated by the threat to harm his friend. It was all working out beautifully. As Cydrich made his way back through the throng, he glimpsed a new motion from the sky. A carriage exploded as if smashed by a great hammer, and the boulder that destroyed it fell to land somewhere within his army. The defending carriages fled. Huge stones fell, ruining some of his soldiers’ plate armor. Yet Cydrich was pleased that the city’s defense turned out to be nothing more than bows and trebuchets. He would have to advance his plans if the Parigians ever started throwing burning missiles, but the worst Denua’s sticks and stones could do would be to destroy the mirror sooner than he liked. He went for more paint.

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Chapter Twenty-three Night was falling when Denua and her war council learned how the enemy had appeared on her doorstep and where they could direct the castle’s unerring trebuchets in order to stem the tide. War Marshal Aubair spoke. “The brutes are coming through a sorceled door in the southwest field. We’re sending a spotter carriage there now to drop target powder on it so we can smash it.” Denua asked, “How many of the enemy are there now?” “We estimated more than ten thousand by the time we started using trebuchets.” A shocked murmur rippled through the room. The invaders might outnumber the city’s garrison two to one. “Obviously, there’ll be fewer now, but the scryers haven’t told us how many yet.” Someone else asked, “What do you think their plan is?” Denua broke in. “We have to prepare for them to march at any time. They have already done the impossible, arriving at Parige with an army in the middle of winter. Their sorcelry is powerful enough that they don’t fear ours. We can be sure they won’t be limited by snow or darkness, either.” “Your Majesty, they appear to have nothing but men,” Aubair said. “Scryers haven’t spotted any sort of siege engine, so our castle defenses should be enough to keep them out, especially with Your Majesty’s sorcelry. But without a proper army defending the city, we can’t stop them from going anywhere else they want in Parige.” “What do you suggest?” “Bring as many citizens as possible into the castle and prepare to sacrifice any part of the city the invaders march through. Hit them with the trebuchets. When they enter neighborhoods with clusters of wooden buildings, hit them with fire. If they stay together and drive for the castle without holding ground, send what men we can spare around behind them to attack from the rear. That’s the best we can do outside of sorcelry.” All eyes turned to Denua, hoping for reassurance that her devices would save the city. “Do it. Also, send carriages to the garrisons at Versai and Monfor, telling them we require their help. It appears the castle may be under attack within hours. And let me know when our scryers spot their leaders. We’ll kill the snake by cutting its head off.”

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*** Cydrich arrived with his troops at the city’s outer wall, where they had a moment of respite. The Parigians stopped firing their trebuchets so they would not breach their own city wall. Defenders gathered at the top of it, preparing to shoot down at his army. Soon they’d bring boiling oil, as well. Cydrich drew a vial from his robes and shook a powder of blue crystals into his hand. He blew lightly on the powder, turning this way and that. The powder billowed away from the sorceler in clouds that spread out and grew to an impossible degree. The clouds of smoky powder rose higher than the wall and became a tide that spread away from Cydrich and his army, into the city. Wherever it went, the blue smoke absorbed fire and extreme heat, dissipating its energy as the smoke itself faded away. Cydrich would not make it easy for the Parigians to exploit Gareth’s sole weakness. As the defenders coped with the sudden loss of torchlight, Cydrich ordered a division of his troops to tear apart the city wall with their bare claws.

*** Evin was in his and Denua’s bedchamber preparing for later—as if life would return to normal anytime soon. He didn’t know when Denua would next see the inside of this room, but he wanted to make everything ready anyway. He knew nothing about war or how to help, so he was left on his own in the midst of all the stress and activity. He had too much time to worry about the fight. The enemy had appeared from nowhere, aided by impossible sorcelry. Maybe they really could take the castle and just murder everyone inside. With everyone else occupied, now would be the perfect time to explore the castle’s secret passages. At least that would accomplish something, and it might even help in defense if the invaders got inside. But it wasn’t enough. Evin needed to do more. He stood for a while, lost in thought, idly swirling wine in his goblet and in Denua’s. His instinct had always been to endure what he must while quietly making his little schemes for a better future. He had counted on having time to make his current plan work—to maybe get himself a title and move his parents to Parige, far away from Tyber’s family. So what happens? A sorcelrous invasion, come to fuck everything up! No, he was going to do something to defend Parige. He didn’t know what, but he’d make Denua give him a way to help. He dumped the wine back into the carafe, put everything away, and left.

*** Gareth was living in a nightmare.

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He remembered the hundreds of times he walked through a veil of smoke to be pulled out of the evil mirror. If he came from the mirror, was he even real? Before he received the red splash of paint on his armor, he had been shot twice with arrows. He would never get used to that. And he had helped lift a boulder off some of his brothers. It was horrifying to watch them suffer, bug-eyed and gasping, as their rib cages slowly expanded and fractured bones straightened. Worse than all that, though, was being here in the city, having to hurt these poor, fragile people who only wanted to defend their homes and who would carry their injuries for life. Gareth spoke and heard his words echoed by hundreds of his nearby brothers, a chant they had taken up when the first Parigian fighters rushed at them: “Please don’t fight us. We don’t want to hurt you.” But the people kept coming! Most of them didn’t listen, so he had to try to hurt them just enough to make them stop fighting. He wanted more than anything for the nightmare to stop. He wanted to lay down his sword and his bow, surrender to the city people, and never harm anyone again. If he did that, he knew Cydrich would burn him to death, then go to Evin and do far worse. He wanted all this suffering to end, but he would do any terrible thing to satisfy Cydrich and keep Evin safe. He couldn’t give up until it was over. How long had he stupidly thought he was a monster and wallowed in guilt? Well, he would earn that guilt now. Cydrich had found the only way to truly make him a monster.

*** On his way to see Denua, Evin rehearsed in his mind what he would say to get her consent to help. As always, he had to play his part just right, so that neither she nor her court would notice his influence over her. He had no doubt he could get her to do any small thing he wanted, especially if it was something she was inclined to do already. But he couldn’t risk trying to change her mind once it was firmly made up. He couldn’t contradict her—or lead her to contradict herself—in front of the court. He had to walk the edge of the blade, just as he had been doing for weeks. Captain Uliette strode through the hall, also on her way to the war chamber. She wore furs over her uniform, and light sparkled off the dusting of snow melting across her shoulders. “Captain! Can I walk with you? How is it out there?” She barely glanced at him. “Bad. Worse.” “Oh.” He had certainly hoped for news more informative and less grim. “I, ah, wanted to ask if I can do anything to help. Waiting is so fearful.” He hoped that hadn’t come out as a whine. “Ha! Farmboy, I’m not sure there’s anything to be done, but you can come hear my report and see if you have any ideas.”

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Evin wasn’t sure whether he’d been mocked, but he entered the war room at her side. Denua was conferring with other advisors but nodded at Uliette when she saw them arrive. “Captain. You’re back from organizing the civilians.” “Yes, Your Majesty, but my report is not good.” “Speak.” “Our archers said their arrows were ineffective. The enemy soldiers stood back up after being shot. The arrows weren’t even a nuisance. They didn’t bother to fire back.” Nobody knew what to say for a moment; then Aubair asked, “Were these reports from simple peasants? Did any experienced fighters make this claim?” “No, the garrisons were forming inside the city walls. But we did send a carriage out to confirm. The field shows every sign of battle and bombardment except one: there are no enemy dead.” Aubair reddened. “It can’t be!” “Your Majesty,” Uliette said quietly, “there is more.” “Go ahead.” “The invaders have used some kind of sorcelry to extinguish fires. Before they attacked the wall, a large swath of the city went dark. Our people could relight torches in short order, but initially we were fighting blind.” “Thank you, Captain.” Denua looked at the stricken faces surrounding her in the room. Evin was as stunned as anyone else, but for a different reason. These people put out the fires first. And they stand up after you kill them. What if…what if they were just like Gareth? What if Gareth hadn’t been cursed at all, but a lost child of these people? What if he, Evin, knew how to defeat them? But did he know? How do you burn them if they can put out the fires? Denua spoke first. Her decision was as grim as anyone in the room might have guessed. “Pull back our experienced troops and leave it to citizens to defend as best they can. Then bombard any neighborhood that the enemy enters. Sacrifice any part of the city to delay their advance on the castle. We will prepare for a siege, search for sorcelry to defeat them, and hope to hold out until help arrives. Do you all understand?” There was a chorus of nods and “Yes, Your Majesty,” and the conference dissolved into murmuring groups. Aubair and Uliette strode out. Denua demanded to know why her scryers had not yet reported anything useful. Evin walked over and touched her arm. When she turned her attention to him, he said, “I’d like to go with Captain Uliette to see what I can learn about the enemy.” Denua didn’t even think about it. “No, I don’t want you to risk going outside these walls.”

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“I heard the report just now. Is it really any safer in here? Besides, the captain isn’t going to the front line. She’ll keep me safe.” Denua frowned at him. “I should put you in irons to keep you from getting killed trying to help me.” “But I need to help. And I might learn something useful to you. Please let me go.” “Go. But do not distract Uliette from her duties.” He bowed quickly and fled to catch up with Uliette, and began to plan how he would escape from her in order to go see the enemy soldiers for himself.

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Chapter Twenty-four Evin caught up with Captain Uliette as she met her own small entourage in the gathering chamber of the castle’s main floor. He joined the group smoothly and went with them out the castle doors and down the vast flight of marble steps leading to the gate that would take them from the castle to the city. One of the city guardsmen was just making his way through that very checkpoint, coming into the castle as the group descended the stairs. The newcomer’s face was red with exertion, but he broke into an excited smile when he saw Uliette. “Captain! I got news for you!” “Hello, Melber,” Uliette said as her people parted for her to come forward. “Let’s hear it, then.” “We captured one-a them evil brutes for you. Got it in a coach outside.” A satisfied look dawned on her face. “Well done. I’m curious to see what manner of brute they are.” Their group couldn’t get through the gate fast enough to suit Evin. When they did, Melber led them to a carriage that had landed in the middle of the street. It was surrounded on all sides by guards and curious citizens. Some held torches or lanterns near the coach’s windows for illumination; others were trying to climb onto the undercarriage so they could get high enough to see. Many were silent and curious, but others shouted epithets at the enemy inside. The coach rocked suddenly, and someone inside barked a curse. Then it was still. Melber hadn’t broken his pace. He looked back briefly to grin at Uliette and said, “He gets feisty ever so often and we have ta stick ’im again.” Uliette’s group added to the onlookers, but the people let her through. Inside the coach, three men stood over an armored body. One of them held a spear piercing the motionless invader, and the rest eyed it warily, ready to strike when next it moved. Splashes of blood painted the coach’s interior and everyone within it. “He’s dead,” Uliette said, clearly disappointed that there would be no chance to interrogate the enemy soldier. Evin wasn’t sure he really wanted to find what he was looking for. He gazed over the invader’s body, searching for a glimpse of skin. The enemy’s hands were smeared with blood, just like most of his armor. Evin could not see the invader’s face beneath its helmet, but—there! A bit of his jaw, and—Evin’s heart clenched

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and turned to stone in his chest. Wherever it wasn’t bloodstained, the skin was dark green. The invader’s hands shifted. His fingers flowed to change from thick and blunt into long, pointed claws in an instant. He jerked, trying to throw off his captors. A claw slapped the sword from one man’s hand, and Evin and Uliette ducked aside as the weapon came tumbling out at them. With a grunt, one of the other captors stabbed his blade through a bloody gap in the enemy’s armor. More blood poured out, and as he twisted his sword and put his weight into driving it deep, the invader’s body quieted to stillness again. “He’ll fool you,” Melber said, finally responding to Uliette’s comment. “Right.” Uliette turned to one of her subordinates. “Get chains, quickly. We’ve got to stop stabbing him if we want to ask any questions.” Evin found his voice. “Keep those torches back! If he burns, you can’t ask questions, either.” “Who are you, then?” said one of the guards. Uliette gave Evin a puzzled look, then said, “Keep the torches away. When we get chains, we’ll bind his feet in the coach, then try to get him out.” The few minutes it took for men to arrive with chains seemed like an eternity to Evin. Where did Gareth’s people come from, and why were they invading Parige? He could hear the distant rumbles and crashes as the enemy were bombarded. They were still distant from the castle, but how long would it take for them to get here? He hoped he’d have time to learn something useful. Finally he got Uliette’s attention. He spoke loudly so she could hear him over the crowd. “Can we talk?” She nodded and directed him to move aside with her. When they could speak normally, she said, “What is it, Evin?” “I know some stuff. Remember how Cydrich sent me here to tell about the demon he—” “Yes, of course. Is this a demon?” Evin shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Cydrich… He did something to me. I think he made me forget important things for a while.” Uliette looked at him with sincere but impatient concern. “I’m sorry. But unless you’ve remembered something that will help us today—” “Yes, I think I have! The most important thing is, you can burn them to death. Really to death. That’s why they put out the torches, not to blind us.” She was interested now. “What else?” “Just that he—he wasn’t a demon. He…Gareth never wanted to hurt anybody.” His vision blurred, and he looked away for a moment, willing his eyes to dry. “Gareth saved me once, and people saw him, is all. Cydrich killed him for no reason. No reason!” “Today, Evin,” she said. “What do you know that will help us today?”

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He focused, and after a moment said, “That’s it. You can use fire. But they’re people.” Uliette looked thoughtful. “Maybe the queen can send word to Cydrich that we need him now to fight these things.” Men arrived with the chains, and after a few minutes of struggle and stabbing the creature some more, they had it out of the carriage and fully bound. They were arguing about whether to carry it into the castle, but Uliette ordered it to be put on the street. She asked Evin to examine it closely to see that it was indeed the sort of creature Cydrich slew. Someone removed the helmet. “Oh no,” Evin said in a small and anguished voice. “No, not you.” He found himself on his knees, cradling Gareth’s head, using his hands and the sleeves of his doublet to wipe blood and sweat from the wounded youth’s face. “Gareth, wake up! Wake up! Please, you have to be okay, please!” He barely heard the curses or felt the hands of men as they took his arms and tried to pull him away. But Uliette must have ordered them to leave him be, because the hands withdrew and he was left alone to soothe Gareth and wait for him to— Gareth’s body jerked violently, and he began to struggle against the chains. Eyelids flickered open, luminous eyes focused, and he froze. “Evin?” “I’m here; I’m here. I’ve got you. I’m here.” “No! He’ll hurt—” Someone shouted, “Tell us what yeh want, yeh bloody vile bastard!” “It’s okay. I’m here.” “No, you can’t be.” Gareth’s strength was returning. “I can’t be. He’ll hurt you! Let me go!” The crowd fell silent. Uliette stepped forward. “Who, son? Who are you afraid of?” Gareth’s gaze flicked to her briefly, then back to Evin’s face. “I’m sorry, Evin. He’s making us fight. He told me what he would do to you if I didn’t!” “Who?” Uliette demanded again. She hadn’t put it together yet, that there was only one way Gareth could be alive. Only one person could be behind it all. But Evin finally understood. “Cydrich.” Melber was among those near enough to hear. He said, “The demon hunter?” Tears rolled from Gareth’s eyes. “He told me he’d torture you. I have to do what he says.”

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Evin stroked Gareth’s hair but looked up at Uliette. “That’s why Gareth’s not dead. Cydrich didn’t kill him. Cydrich’s never really been a demon hunter. He’s been collecting Gareth’s people for his army all along.” “No,” Gareth said. “They’re all me.” Evin looked back to him. “What?” “He used blood sorcelry to make a mirror… My blood… I came out of the mirror. Everyone did.” “Holy gods,” said Uliette. “This entire army—they’re all the same person?” “You have to let me go. If I don’t help him, he’ll kill Evin. Please!” “Is Evin right? Will fire kill you?” For a moment, Evin didn’t believe he’d heard the question correctly. “No! I just found him! He doesn’t want to hurt us!” She gestured for the men to pull Evin away. He struggled against them. “Get away from me! Uliette, you can’t, damn you, he doesn’t want to hurt anybody!” She bent down on one knee to look Gareth in the eye. “We have to defend ourselves from you. We’re going to stop Cydrich. Isn’t that the best way to protect Evin?” Gareth didn’t look at her. He kept Evin’s gaze as Evin was pulled away. “Yes. Cydrich says fire will end me.” “Stop it, you bitch! Leave him alone!” Uliette called to her subordinates. “Take this news to the queen. The enemy is Cydrich, and we must use fire against his minions.” When the men left, she bent back down to Gareth. “I believe you, son, but we didn’t start this fight. We’ll burn as many of you as we can until we get to Cydrich. When he’s gone, will you—I mean, will all of you surrender?” Gareth did look at her now, and nodded. “Yes. If they know Cydrich is dead and Evin is safe, there’s no reason to fight no more. There’s nothing here I want. Please just keep Evin safe.” Uliette ordered him carried to the dungeon, then strode to where Evin yet struggled against the men holding him. “Stop fighting!” she said. “I’m trying to save your life.” Evin stopped trying to pull away, but he only glared at Uliette, breathing heavily. “We must know his weakness. Do you think Cydrich will use him to destroy the queen and then just set him free? Or you?” “I won’t let you hurt him.” “Gareth is a weapon. He’ll never be free. Cydrich will use him as long as he is valuable, then burn him.” She motioned for Evin to be released. “But if we can kill Cydrich, maybe some of them can be saved.” He couldn’t contain the fury in his voice. “What do you want from me?”

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Uliette grabbed Evin’s head and pulled him close to speak into his ear. “I want you to stop behaving like a child. If you curse your queen for fighting these invaders, she’ll have you executed where you stand. And I’m not a fool. That creature loves you. So how did you know him before Cydrich took him? I don’t care—but the queen will. You need to be careful.” She pushed Evin away and turned to lead her entourage through the gate, back into the castle. Evin looked out over the city’s rooftops, toward the sounds of war. He had betrayed Gareth before he even knew it, by telling Uliette to use fire. How could he fix it now? Find one or several of the Gareths and try to convince them to run away again? Hope they wouldn’t be found by Cydrich or Denua? No. They had already been captured once. Cydrich must have the sorcelry to track them. They would never win freedom by running away from him. Evin rushed to catch up to Uliette.

*** When Evin and Uliette arrived at the war chamber, they found Denua poring over a map of the city. She pointed out a landmark to one of her soldiers, then looked up. Her face was alight with excitement. “Well done, both of you. With the information you found, I think I know where Cydrich is going.” Uliette and Evin rushed to her side. Uliette asked, “Are they not attacking the castle?” “That will possibly be a later stage of his plan. He has some means of hiding from my scryers, so he is difficult to attack directly. Right now, there is one place I’m sure he will go in person, so we must go immediately. This is our chance.” One of the advisors was exasperated. “Your Majesty, you should stay here. You mustn’t risk yourself. We don’t know what other devices he may—” “Nobody can end this but me, and I don’t want to waste any more of my soldiers against his bloody army. Get me a carriage now!” “Your Majesty—” “Don’t argue with me, Uliette.” “No, we have a chance and we must take it. But there is more you need to know. The traitor Cydrich tricked Evin and then used him to trick us.” “Evin…?” Denua’s gaze flicked to him. Evin kept silent while Uliette spoke. If Denua took the impression that Evin had lied, or was involved in a plot, she might have him executed immediately. However, he was sure Uliette believed that if losing him didn’t prove to be a fatal mistake, it would certainly prolong the fight. Let her do the talking.

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Uliette said, “We thought Cydrich gave orders to Evin simply because he was nearby when Cydrich needed to send a message to you, but there is a reason why Evin was there. The creature Cydrich said he destroyed looks like an ill-born man. He was Evin’s friend. Cydrich clouded Evin’s mind, made him think his friend was a monster that Cydrich killed, and sent him here to tell us. In truth, Cydrich did not kill the creature but took it and used sorcelry to turn it into this army.” Denua stared at Uliette. “The sorceled door in the field wasn’t a door. It twinned the creature.” “Yes, Your Majesty.” “I could never know of the approaching army because there was no army.” “And yet a force of any size, once Cydrich arrived. Until we smashed the door.” Denua looked to Evin. “All these creatures are your friend?” Evin nodded. “If you can kill Cydrich, I can end the fighting.” “I’ve seen it myself,” Uliette said. “We would have ended the fight already, but the creature is too afraid of Cydrich to resist his commands.”

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Chapter Twenty-five The flight over the castle wall took them high enough for Evin to briefly see the devastation of neighborhoods where the invaders marched. All around the city, pristine, snow-covered rooftops shone in the faint light of a crescent moon. To the southwest, the snowy cityscape was marred by columns of smoke and flashes of fire from the queen’s bombardment. Neighborhoods were burning, and Evin could only hope none of the Gareths had been caught by the flames. His stomach was leaden with worry. Denua had ordered that the bombardment remain well away from her destination but that it continue until the invaders were subdued. How many Parigians would die tonight simply to prevent Cydrich from noticing a change in strategy? The carriage turned toward the southwest, cutting off his view. The place they were headed, the museum at Balmorda University, was nearly in a direct line between the castle and the point where the invaders entered the city. The flight was swift. Presently they arrived at the museum, a building constructed like a small castle or cathedral, made of a dark stone that looked black in the night. Their carriage landed on the museum’s rooftop. Denua’s guards were the first out of the vehicle, leaving to scout the rooftop for threats before signaling that it was safe for the queen to descend. More carriages landed and disgorged their troops. Hundreds or thousands of booted feet marched in the streets below, a sound interrupted occasionally by the clash of weapons and shouts or screams. A hopeless chant drifted up on the wind. “Please don’t fight us. We don’t want to hurt you.” Denua gave her troops terse instructions about how to disperse within the building, then beckoned Evin and Uliette to follow her. She allowed only a few units of her troops to enter before she herself went into the building. The museum had wide, open floors, with most of the space occupied by tables or cases containing treasures. It was nearly as cold inside as out. The building was empty, and the great fireplaces at either end of each floor were dark. Evin couldn’t see much, but progress through the building and down the stairs was swift. Denua led her group through the halls with no hesitation. A crash echoed from below, followed by the sound of splintering wood. Denua led her group on until they reached the flight of stone stairs leading down to the ground level, which was actually two stories high. Evin looked down as they

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descended. Faint light glinted off rows of display cases filling the floor. At one end of the room, an arch gaped onto the night. The door had been broken open. In through the arch streamed groups of men whose lamplike yellow eyes glowed from within their helmets. They fanned out through the room, taking positions. Some headed toward the stairs as Denua and her group descended. “Please don’t fight us,” several of them said in chorus. Then, “Evin?” Evin stepped down toward them. All of them within earshot were staring at him now. “I’m here with the queen. Cydrich will want to see her. We can end this, Gareth.” “Get out of here. Don’t let him see you!” Slight variations of the plea whispered by many voices that were all Gareth’s voice fell on Evin’s ears and lay like stones on his soul. “Please go, Evin!” The shape of another man swept in through the open arch, and the Gareths instantly fell silent. “Take us to him. We won’t resist you,” Denua said. When some of the Gareths moved quietly to take the weapons from Denua’s entourage, she nodded and indicated for her people to comply. Then the Gareths led them down to the ground floor, where several surrounded Evin, pulling him to the side and hiding him from view with their bodies. “We’re trying to save you,” one of them whispered in his ear. Evin was engulfed by the scent of leather, sweat, and Gareth. His heart lugged in his chest. “Hush,” he whispered back. “I’m saving you first.” Light flared, and a star-bright spark rose to the room’s high ceiling. Cydrich had activated one of his devices. It lit up the room. Evin peeked over the shoulders in front of him to see glimpses and reflections of the old man racing between display cases. Cydrich shouted in glee, and glass crashed. “Cydrich!” The queen’s voice filled the room. “Surrender yourself to me.” “Oh, Denua! You’re just in time.” Evin ducked and slipped between two of the Gareths. Before they could get their hands on him, he dodged between people and display cases, trying to get close enough to see. In his wake, he trailed shocked gasps as more of the Gareths recognized him. When he got a good view and stood still, Gareths closed around him, and one leaned in to whisper, “We’re trying to save you.” “Let me see!” He nudged them. The sorceler raked his gaze over the room, seeing his troops guarding the queen’s men. “Oh, I see you brought soldiers for me to surrender to. How nice. Step forward now so I can greet you properly.” Denua emerged from the crowd of invading soldiers, guarded by one who had his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t let her reach for anything, boy. Hold her wrists.”

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“Why are you here, Cydrich? What do you want that brought you with an army to my city?” “Ha-ha! One little thing, Denua, that you might have given me years ago.” He stood before a waist-high display case that he had smashed open. He rested his hands on the gilded edges of the case and gazed down at a sword in its scabbard, resting on a satiny red cushion. “That sword? All this death for a trinket in a museum?” “That’s what you think, isn’t it, Denua? You’ve lived so long, lifetimes to learn, but you know nothing.” He took something from his bag—Evin caught a glimpse of a stone, small, dark, and polished—and touched it to the sword. “I know your monsters can’t stop me from cutting you down,” she said, and the blue glow of her shield’s aura flared. The Gareth yelped and snatched his hands away from her. Denua advanced on the grinning sorceler. From inside the display case, the sword hissed and a red light shone up on Cydrich, creating shadows that made his face demonic. He watched Denua approach. “So you’ve decided to find out if your sorcelry is stronger than mine. You suck the life’s work out of the real scholars, using it to your ends, but you don’t earn it, Denua; you don’t earn anything. You’re not educated. Have you ever created anything? Ever performed an experiment? Have you ever spent just one day of your life in study?” “Why should I, Cydrich, when I can make use of foolish tools like you?” Denua’s ensorceled sword unfolded in her hands. Cydrich seized the museum sword by its scabbard and lifted it from its resting place. “You’re the foolish one, to come here, witch. I’ve beaten you now.” He advanced, holding the sword up, his gaze boring into her face as she stared back at him with undisguised contempt. The red light came from the stone Cydrich had placed in the pommel. “I’ve done my research, Denua. This sword will cut through any shield. Even the one you wear.” “Would you like to die quickly, Cydrich? I could take off your head first.” He swung at her, and despite the little space they had, crowded with displays and people, she danced lightly back. “Give me your bow!” Evin whispered to one of the Gareths standing in front of him. That one just shook his head. The one beside him said, “You can’t hurt him—” And another finished, “You’ll only make him mad.” Denua feinted, then whirled her sword around to cut a gash in the unarmored man’s side. He shrieked and leaped back. Evin saw that Gareth was right. As the combatants circled one another again, a pale, purple light coruscated across the sorceler’s ribs. In that light, the skin closed and healed. “Can’t kill my soldiers, can’t hurt me!” he said in a singsong voice. “What next, woman? Are you ready to die?”

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Denua gave a frustrated shout and flew at him, swinging wide. Cydrich managed to bring his own blade up to parry— And his sword cut through Denua’s as if it were only a reed. Most of her blade tumbled away to crash into a display. After a brief moment of surprise, Cydrich realized his victory. He raised his blade to her throat. “Get on your knees.” When she stood in defiance, his gaze flicked to a Gareth who stood behind her. “Put her on her knees, boy. Don’t let go while you still live.” Evin shouted, “Please, don’t do this, Gareth, no!” That one looked at Evin for a moment. Evin saw guilt and sorrow in his eyes despite the helm covering his face. But then he complied by placing his hands on Denua’s shoulders and using his vast strength to force her down to her knees. The blue light of her shield crackled along his hands and arms. He grunted but held on. “There, look at what you’ve come to, woman. I have the sword. Now I’ll take your life and your throne!” Spittle flew from Cydrich’s lips. Denua glared at him in contemptuous silence. Cydrich gripped the sword in both hands and raised it high over her upturned face. She closed her eyes. “I’ve lived a long time,” Denua said. “Too long!” Cydrich brought the sword down in an arc that ended at her face. The blade struck the blue aura surrounding Denua’s head and held there. It didn’t split her skull. It didn’t break her skin. Emotion and color fled the old man’s face. His only remark was, “Oh no.” “Long enough,” Denua said, “to seed rumors.” The pommel stone of Cydrich’s sword glowed with increasing intensity. “Long enough to write codices filled with lies of ultimate power.” Cydrich shook the sword now, as if his hands wouldn’t release their grip. “To scatter false grimoires and clues and trapped devices, there to catch traitorous sorcelers who are so very educated but so very, very stupid.” She stood. The Gareth who had been holding her did not resist. All eyes watched Cydrich struggle as the sword’s light enveloped him. He burst into flame and began a long scream of rage and pain. The pommel stone’s light died out, and the sword tumbled from Cydrich’s melting hands. Denua laughed. Everyone else stood dumbfounded as the burning sorceler shrieked and danced. He bashed into display counters, breaking some of them and setting frail treasures alight. When he came close to Denua, she reached out with her shielded hand and pushed him away to crash into other displays. His soldiers couldn’t help him. They only scattered to avoid the fire when he came too close. But Denua’s pleasure at her victory was short-lived. As Evin watched Cydrich’s death dance, the jagged bolts of purple light rippled over Cydrich’s flailing body; and where that energy flowed, skin destroyed by the fire was instantly renewed. A kind of struggle raged between the tongues of flame and the purple

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flashes. Back and forth they raced, fire consuming the remnants of his clothing, blackening and fusing flesh that the magical light restored again and again as the smoke and stench of his burning filled the air. The sorceler still screamed, but after a few seconds, it was obvious that the purple light would win the battle. Soon the sorceler would be whole. A blast of flame licked across Cydrich’s face, bursting an eye that had just been renewed and causing the flesh of the brow to melt and run in a suppurating mess. In the instant before the skin was remade, Evin glimpsed an object. A purple jewel embedded in the sorceler’s brow, just above the bridge of his nose. One of the Gareths screamed, “The stone!” He ran to the burning sorceler and seized him by the throat. Flames were dying out on Cydrich’s body, but they raced up Gareth’s arm, setting him to burn. His scream turned to agony, but he held on and dug at the sorceler’s forehead with his claws. Evin looked on in helpless horror. “No! Stay back!” The fire consumed that Gareth, who was dying even as he struggled to rip at Cydrich’s face. But his claws couldn’t penetrate the sorceler’s skin. Evin watched, wailing and unable to look away. Other Gareths stepped past Evin now, moving toward the struggle. The one who held the sorceler wasn’t screaming anymore. Flames had burned out his throat and washed up to envelop his face. Another Gareth reached the burning pair. He put his hand on the back of his dead brother’s burning skull and pressed it into Cydrich’s face. Fire flowed up his arm as he held it there. When Cydrich’s head again caught fire, Gareth pulled his brother away. The sorceler’s brow was briefly ruined once more, and in the moment the gem was exposed, Gareth snatched it free and threw it aside. It shattered against the stone floor. Without the stone’s protection, fire raced unchecked back over Cydrich’s body. His screams grew more agonized and desperate. Then the burning Gareth jammed claws into Cydrich’s mouth and eyes and tore the sorceler’s head away. Cydrich’s body crumpled to the floor. As fire swept over his own body, the Gareth turned around and held Cydrich’s head up for the crowd to see. He was screaming now in triumph and in agony. Awash in fire, he staggered forward, still holding up the flaming skull as he fell to his knees. His body boiled away into an oily, green-black smoke, and Cydrich’s burning skull dropped and rolled on the floor. No one made a sound except for Denua’s jarring laughter. Her guards looked around with awe at the evaporating smudges of smoke where the Gareths had been standing. They were gone, all of them. Panic filled Evin’s veins with ice. It wasn’t him I just found him I just found him he can’t be gone

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He turned to look around the room. Display cases shattered, burning, or intact. Tables. Shocked faces. A dark suit of armor, but full plate, not like the ones the Gareths wore. Not here outside He slipped past Denua’s guards and broke into a run for the open archway to the street. They weren’t real not the real one he didn’t die not with Cydrich he didn’t He slid down on the stone walk in front of the museum and fell heavily on his ass. He righted himself and found that he had put his hand into bloody snow. Seeing it startled him out of his panic. He lifted the hand and stared at the redtinged ice and water dripping from his palm. Gareth had done this. Cydrich had made one of him do this. Who will the gods blame? He lifted his gaze from his hand and looked around at the street. It was lined with shops and homes with closed doors and shutters. A shattered, blood-spattered cart lay on its side just down the street, and beside it most of a man’s arm. The snow was slushy and trampled all down the street. Easy to see where the army had come from. Farther down the street in that direction, a dog chewed on something, its muzzle dripping, dark, and wet. Evin got to his feet, intending to walk back along the invaders’ path, when an armored man ran from the shadows at the corner of a building across the street and froze in surprise. “Evin?” A sob of relief escaped Evin’s throat, and he rushed toward Gareth, the last one, the real one. Even as he crossed the street, his mind raced to find the right plan to deal with Denua. What should we do? Flee? Surrender? He opened his mouth to yell, Hide! but two Parigian swordsmen appeared from around the same corner. Gareth had been fleeing from them, leaving the battle when his brothers vanished. He had realized it was over. Maybe he thought he was free. One of the pursuers carried a torch. “No, stop!” Evin shouted. “Wait. It’s over. We won.” Gareth whirled to face the men and held his sword up defensively. “Please, I don’t want to hurt you.” The men split up and flanked Gareth. They weren’t going to listen. “Halt!” Denua’s voice came from the door of the museum, behind Evin. “Arrest him.” Guards swarmed past Evin and across the street. The two pursuers cursed at Gareth, and one spat on him, but they held back. Guards approached, took his sword, pulled off his helm, and threw it aside. Then his bow and quiver of arrows. Gareth offered no resistance. He looked defeated and sad, as if this was what he’d expected all along.

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“Mercy, Your Majesty!” Evin said. “He saved us from Cydrich.” “This one didn’t save us, darling. He invaded my city and helped a traitor kill my people.” “But you can’t—They were all him! He would have saved us too, if—” “Silence! Chain the beast and put it in the dungeon. I will decide whether to use it or destroy it.” Evin seethed but knew he had overstepped. As he struggled to control himself, he noticed how Uliette looked at him with pity, and if anything that made it worse. Uliette was right. Gareth would never be free. He’s just a weapon.

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Chapter Twenty-six Two days had passed since the invasion. The city was rebuilding. The first thing Denua did after her return to the castle was order that Cydrich’s devices be found, where possible, and returned to her. She also ordered her scryers to watch the searchers closely, to see that none of the sorceled devices might be stolen. Her highest priority was to get sorcelers she trusted—and whom she could surveil—to work on understanding Cydrich’s mirror. It was vital not only to determine how it worked and how to create new ones, but also how to detect and defend against mirror-army invasions. The sorcelers requested some of Gareth’s blood in order to begin their experiments. Evin struggled to be patient during those days. He knew he could manipulate Denua into letting him see Gareth, but he did not want to appear too eager, and he did not want the memory of his insubordination to be fresh in her mind. Finally he took a carafe of wine from their room and carried it up to the war chamber, where Denua spent most of her days now. Its large meeting table was convenient because of the ability to use the city map for planning reconstruction projects. When he walked in, one of Denua’s sorcelers—a thin little weasel named Tarcia—was suggesting that Gareth might be used as a “renewable sacrifice” for blood sorcelry to speed the city’s recovery somehow. Evin imagined smashing the carafe and burying its shards in Tarcia’s neck. But he held himself together and even managed to smile as he offered Denua her wine. She waved the weasel off and gratefully accepted the drink. Evin smoothed her hair back and tried to show only love on his face as he waited for her to drink. When she was done, he asked, “Have things been progressing well?” “As well as can be expected. We’ll need raw materials that take time to arrive, so we have some displacements to deal with. The worst problem is the survivors.” “Oh? I don’t understand.” “The creature, it has the moral views of…” She cast about for words. “It’s weak. As if it were raised by a bloody priest—definitely not by Cydrich. It tried to avoid killing, so now we have hordes of beggars, citizens missing arms or legs.” “Oh… You can’t just put ’em back on?”

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“Sometimes, not always. Our sorcelry isn’t quite like that thing Cydrich had. It can be difficult or require the sacrifice of one to save another. More than most of the wretches are worth to me. In the end, many would be better off if the monster had simply killed them. Now I’ll have to do it to keep them from cluttering up my city.” “Oh!” He was unprepared to hear her speak this way, of murdering hordes of people as if they were an infestation of ants. He wanted to save them. Not as desperately as he wanted to save Teffaine and Gareth, but he believed they deserved saving too. Could he fit them into the new plan? But Denua was watching him. She would expect him to say more. He concentrated on his feelings of love and sympathy, searching for something truthful to say that would satisfy her. “I—I’m sorry. I’m sorry you have to make such painful decisions.” She looked at him, her face glowing with youth and unattainable beauty, filled with love. “You do understand how difficult it can be.” “Yes, of course. But I came to ask you about the other difficult decision you’re making.” Her face hardened. “How long to keep your friend alive.” “Yes. I’m not here to annoy you by pleading for him. I just wondered if I could visit him in the dungeon. Please give me permission to see him, if only for an hour or two.” She examined him for a moment. Deciding how to let him down. He tried not to get his hopes up. He knew he’d get her consent in the end, just maybe not today. “My guards won’t allow you to see him privately,” she said, “and they will report everything to me. Are you sure you want to go and speak to him, knowing that whatever he says might influence my decision?” Evin almost collapsed with relief. “Yes, I’m sure. Despite what Cydrich made him do, he’s a loyal Elyrrian. Even after being in the dungeon, he won’t have any ill will toward you. He’s just not capable of it.” “Then go, if you’re willing to risk it. Perhaps the guards’ report will bear out your faith.”

*** Evin followed a guard through the tunnel leading into the dungeon. The tunnel was just low enough to be uncomfortable, though Evin did not have to bend to get through. This close, the guard stank. Evin couldn’t wait to get upwind of the man. How comfortable he had become in the palace, with his little cleansing wand and the perfumes Denua gave him. He kicked himself, in his thoughts, for forgetting what real life was like for people like Gareth and his own parents. He hoped he was ready for it, because he was about to meet real life right now. The tunnel opened into a wide, underground room. With its chains, manacles, bloodstained tables of unfinished wood, and metal devices covered in plates and rivets and spikes, the room stank of evil. The stupid, pointless, cruel kind of evil that Tyber would have liked. Across from the entrance, Gareth sat manacled to a

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wall, naked. The bastards hadn’t even given him a cell. Evin didn’t know whether it would be worse to be caged and alone with despair, or here on display, but he was outraged anyway. Outrage was good. Anger was good. Maybe he wouldn’t cry. The chains held Gareth’s arms up. His chin was tucked down to his chest. Perhaps he was dozing. Evin closed the distance, conscious of the effort to conceal his heartbreak, and crouched. The beautiful green skin was smooth and flawless. Which probably only meant they hadn’t tortured him in the past few minutes. And they hadn’t begun using fire yet. Despite Denua’s warning, the guard did not sit beside him to spy but stood quietly at a short distance. Evin had just decided to sit without disturbing Gareth for the allotted two hours so the guards would be forced to let him sleep, when Gareth looked up and— oh shit—smiled. Evin was prepared for anything but that look of happiness and trust. Did Gareth have false hope that Evin could change anything? Evin’s eyes stung. “H-hello, Gareth.” There was more, but he didn’t know how to say it. “Don’t be sad. I did it. Well, one of me did. We saved you!” “Yes.” “So that’s good.” “Yes. It’s good. I can—” “I believe you now, you know. All that stuff. Cydrich showed me what it’s like to be bad, and you were right. You were.” “Yes.” “I’m not a monster. Not bad. So you mustn’t be sad.” Gareth stretched to lean a little closer, as close as he could, and whispered, “It’s really not so terrible in here. When they cut me”—despite Evin’s resolve, a sob squelched from his chest—“I make a lot of noise like it hurts awful, but I’ve had a lot worse.” His conspiratorial expression almost made Evin believe. Nodding, Gareth rested back against the wall. Evin rubbed his eyes. “Cydrich tricked me. I thought he killed you, before. And now… I couldn’t come to see you before now, but I’ll come whenever I can.” “I’m glad.” Evin looked at the dirt floor, not knowing what to say, hating himself for wasting their time. “A man came,” Gareth said. “In a blue robe. Shiny cloth. He talked about gods and stuff. He didn’t like me.” A priest? “He doesn’t matter.”

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“He said I was gonna burn for what I did, like I didn’t know that already. No, don’t be sad! There’s a good part. He said after we die, we get judged for our lives. Don’t you see?” Evin shook his head and willed his eyes to stop leaking. “Evin, the gods will know you were right, won’t they? They’ll know I only did stuff to save you, and I tried not to kill people. They’ll know you were right, that I was good. I tried to be.” Evin wanted to die for not taking Gareth into his arms. “You were. Always. You were always a good man. What you did was Cydrich’s fault.” “So it’s good, then. They’ll know.” “I know. And I’ll make sure everyone knows. Everyone.” “I won’t be a secret no more. Not a ghost no more.” “Gareth.” Evin hoped Gareth would understand when he said, “To me, you’re better than the best thing ever.” A tear escaped Gareth’s eye then, but he smiled again and nodded. “To me. You.”

*** The next day, Denua summoned Evin to the throne room as she held court. A line of people waited to bring pleas or disputes before her. However, she left the citizens to stand restlessly in their queue while she dealt with other business. Uliette and Tarcia were present, a few other advisors, and now Evin. “Evin, my love, I have received Captain Uliette’s full report on the matter of the creature we hold in the dungeon.” “Yes, Your Majesty.” He steeled himself. “You have shown a remarkable interest in sheltering this…thing that was responsible for an invasion of Parige and so much damage to the life and property of her citizens.” “Yes, Your Majesty. I believe Gareth—” “You will be silent.” He closed his mouth with a snap. “You have shown a remarkable interest in the creature itself. An unusual interest. Some question has arisen about your loyalty to me, your queen. You may answer. Are you loyal?” “Yes, Your Majesty.” To everyone who matters. Denua smiled. “Good, then it is settled.” She looked at Evin and Uliette. “You will be glad to know, Evin, that I have a small task for you, by which you may demonstrate your loyalty. One that I know you will be glad to do for your queen.” “Yes…Your Majesty…” He knew what would follow but still had to struggle against his body, to mostly breathe evenly, to hold back the tears that would expose him.

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“I have decided that the creature you call Gareth is a monster from the underworld. In fact, it has been identified as nothing less than a troll cast in human form. It has caused much destruction and pointless suffering. Our sorcelers will recreate the mirror device without further need of it, and the monster is otherwise too dangerous to exist.” There was never any doubt. You did what you had to do. And yet the fist crushed his heart. He couldn’t feel his legs and feared they would collapse, dropping him to beg at Denua’s feet. Evin was spared from the necessity of making a reply when Tarcia burst forth. “Your Majesty, please reconsider. There is no way to imagine what wonders we might discover by using him as a resource for our sorcelry. Not only will he survive rituals as no human could, but also, his unique combination of human intelligence with troll blood could unlock secrets we might never find in any other way.” Evin wondered if Denua was letting her filthy pet plead for Gareth’s life in order to give Evin a false hope that she could crush, or if, because she loved him, she wanted him to fully realize the horrors she was about to spare Gareth. He was grateful for the time it gave him to master his body. She leaned forward. “Enough, sorceler. There are plenty of peasants and beggars whose blood you may have, but this creature…this abomination… I will not suffer it to live. Evin, as my loyal subject, you shall have the honor of carrying my instruction to the executioner. What say you?” Evin saw the look of consternation on Uliette’s face. He knew she’d realize that what he was being asked to do was highly unusual. He was the last person who should do this. He did not quite keep his voice from breaking as he said, “I will do as you ask, Your Majesty.” She nodded once. “Take this to the executioner.” She held out a parchment, rolled and sealed. He took it with a trembling hand. “Those are my instructions. You will return with the required proof once the creature has been destroyed.” This time he couldn’t force a reply. Denua sat back. Her eyes turned away from him. “That is all. Captain Uliette, bring forth the next supplicant.”

*** Simone had hoped to check on Evin after he returned from the execution, but she didn’t get to see him until the next day. How had he coped after carrying out Denua’s cruel order? Denua had sent him, alone, to watch his former love be destroyed. The stink of burning troll flesh still lingered in parts of the castle, which was unpleasant enough for everyone. But poor Evin had been required to stay to watch the actual burning. After everything he had already suffered this year!

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Simone had never reported her belief that Evin and the creature had been lovers. But had Denua guessed? Was that why she had punished him so? Denua’s sorcelry made Evin adore her, but how could that be enough to blunt such unimaginable grief? How had he been able obey her order? In truth, he had to know that refusal would cost his life. But still. It must have been intolerable. When Simone found Evin, it was quite by accident. He was moping at a window, on a high floor of the castle where she’d never seen him before. Very close to the window, in fact. “Farmboy,” she said, and he looked at her sadly. Once again she felt the urge to rescue him, to solve all his problems. But it’s too late. No one can fix this. And what could she ever have done anyway? The creature was doomed from the moment Cydrich created it. When Evin said nothing, she continued. “Will you be well? You’re not preparing to leap, are you?” “No. I’ll be fine.” “Oh, I’m convinced.” She walked over and, rather presumptuously, took him into her arms, an embrace he simply accepted, neither rejecting nor seeking comfort. “I know that had to be the most difficult thing you have ever done—” “You don’t know. You really can’t know.” “I suppose not. I’m sorry I couldn’t go with you. You should have had a friend there.” “I did all right. You heard that swine, Tarcia. It was a kindness, really.” She let him go. She was offering friendly support, but even broken and sad, he was Denua’s beautiful pet. It wouldn’t do for someone to walk by and get the wrong impression. Evin said, “You were right all along. He could never be free while Denua lives. She saw him as a weapon, just as Cydrich did.” “We’re all trapped, Evin. Some more than others. Even Denua is trapped, in the way she has to think about things. About everything. Elyrria depends upon her.” “He was the one trapped!” Evin said. “For so long alone—” “Evin. At least your trap is gilded. At least you adore Denua, so it will be easier for you.” He turned from her and looked out the window. “You’re right. I should hate her, but I just can’t. She made me choose, and I had to choose her.” “It’s better that way.” She didn’t say, it kept you alive. He sighed. “I’ll get over this. I was planning to ask for her hand, before…everything. When I feel better—” A sharp pang of jealousy pricked Simone’s heart, but she feigned for him a pleasure she didn’t feel. “Ha! Well, good luck, Farmboy!”

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Why should she be jealous? Denua had taken any number of lovers in her history, but handfastings were exceedingly rare. Surely she would never marry a bumpkin like Evin. However, marriage or no, she’d never let go of her pretty toy, so either way, it didn’t matter to Simone. “Yes. Ha. I’ve just got to get my humor back.” Simone left him to stare out the window. She had things to do, and she believed him. He would be himself again soon, and his love for Denua would conquer his feelings for the wretched troll-boy.

*** For a few more days, it seemed Simone regularly encountered Evin moping around all over the castle. But gradually his mood lightened, and he was more himself. Then he was glued to Denua’s side, and they behaved as happy, young lovers again. Very happy, it seemed, because with the city beginning to return to normal, Denua announced a celebration with a dual purpose: to commemorate her salvation of Parige and all of Elyrria from the traitor Cydrich, and to announce her engagement to Evin. If I didn’t know them, I wouldn’t believe it. But Simone did know. Besotted by sorcelry, Evin could only love Denua, and she, for some reason, found special favor in him. Handfasting would occur forthwith. Denua did not subscribe to the superstitions of peasants and said there would be no need to wait for the arrival of spring.

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Chapter Twenty-seven On the night of the celebration, the palace’s public great rooms were filled with nobles from Parige and flown in from cities throughout Elyrria, from the mainland to the Britannic Isles. The castle was bright with torchlight and sorceler’s lamps, alive with the sound of music and revelry. Simone wore her dress uniform and mingled with the guests, keeping an eye out for trouble. She spotted Evin, looking more beautiful than ever in a short doublet of imported silk with silver accoutrements, including a shameless silver codpiece. Surely not his choice. Denua had dressed him to show him off, and he appeared distinctly uncomfortable. He was listening with barely feigned interest to a monologue delivered by a corpulent and unpleasant-looking noble. The man gestured incessantly with his hands, jeweled rings flashing as he tried to convince Evin of some silly political belief or other. She took pity on the farm boy and went over to speak with him. “Excuse me, milord.” She addressed Evin with a small bow. “Won’t you come with me to deal with a small matter for the queen?” “Oh. Um, yes. Yes of course. Please excuse me, Lord Runciter.” He bowed a bit to the disappointed man and turned to walk with her. “Lord Runciter was just telling me about the…important…tax situation…in the port at…” He gave up. She laughed with a sincere amusement that surprised her. “Are you sure about his name?” “Well, I was until you asked.” “Oh, you’re probably right. I’m just trying to confound you. Actually, it looked as if you needed a rescue.” He rolled his eyes. “Oh, I really did.” He lowered his voice to say, “No cleansing wand has ever been close to that man’s mouth. Did you smell that? I wanted to swoon.” “I always speak kindly of nobility,” she said. A hint. “In any case, as we are at your celebration, I want to congratulate you again on your engagement.” He smiled. “Thank you. It means a great deal, coming from you. You helped me with…tricky moments during the invasion. You didn’t owe me anything.” She started to pooh-pooh his remark, but he continued with a mischievous wink. “I’ll remember you after my ascension to power.”

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She laughed gently. “I hope you won’t make that little joke to anyone else. They might mistake you.” “Right. I know Denua will live forever. My place is to love and comfort her while I can. Besides, can you imagine an ignorant peasant like me taking the crown? Ridiculous. I still leave a trail of sawdust wherever I go, don’t I?” The evening suddenly lost its luster for Simone. It seemed he understood his situation perfectly. She realized that he probably did not even harbor naive hopes about what would happen when Denua no longer found him a source of love and comfort. The court at Parige was the loveliest trap for anyone foolish enough to enter. She saw him recognize the look on her face. Weren’t farm boys supposed to be half-wits? “You’re my friend, Simone Uliette. I’ve had few enough, and I truly do know that you are my friend. I am sorry for the ways I disappoint you.” “You’re my friend, milord, and I’m sure I have no idea why you talk of disappointment.” “My past. You were right. What you said about him. And what you didn’t say about me. We weren’t just friends.” “Evin, don’t—” “No, you’re right. I won’t speak about it. I can keep shut, but with you it’s different. You know there are sacrifices. I couldn’t tell him how I felt. But I can tell you this. I’m glad you’re my friend. I’m glad you understand that there are difficult sacrifices.” Disappointing her? Sacrifice? He had to sacrifice his friend—his love—to satisfy Denua. But there was something more in his words. Was he saying this marriage was a way of sacrificing himself to Denua for some reason? How could he think the handfasting would disappoint me? A footman approached and interrupted. “Milord, the queen wishes you to meet Count Gascon.” Evin glanced at the servant in annoyance, then looked into Simone’s eyes and said, “I will make whatever sacrifices are necessary.” He searched her face. The thought raced through her mind: He knows you want him. But she didn’t! Did she? Before she could imagine how to reply, he said, “I will always be your friend,” and turned to leave.

*** The handfasting ceremony took place on the next Lordsday, while nobles and dignitaries were still in town. Evin was privately glad that it never occurred to Denua he might want his parents to see the ceremony. His father was a rough and thoughtless sort who

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might offend people who did not take such lightly. Evin wanted his parents to remain unnoticed by the people of Denua’s court and far away from his schemes. Given Denua’s long rule, a royal handfasting was a rare event. Though cold, the sun shone brightly, so the people turned out to see the spectacle. The commoners of Parige stood in cheering throngs along the avenue, which communicated between the castle proper and the cathedral where the ceremony would be held. In his suite in the castle, Evin could hear the noise from outside, and the valet who came to fasten the many buckles of his shining black boots told him that the cathedral was already filled to bursting with nobility. Evin sighed. These people so loved their ridiculous, complicated customs. Why couldn’t Evin and Denua just find a yard with a nice tree, have a priest nick their hands, and be done? Parigians had to make everything tricky. The bride and groom were to make their way to the cathedral in separate coaches. White for her, black for him. Each coach had been placed, with wings tucked in, atop a sort of cart made of lacquered wood in the same style and an actual team of horses connected at the front. In order that they might wave to the public, they would be pulled to the cathedral like vegetables to market. After the ceremony, they would return to the palace to consummate the marriage, then join an all-day feast, already in progress in their honor. The timing for everything would be tricky today. But all the preparations were complete, and though he was nervous, Evin assured himself that he would not panic. The hour arrived. The bride’s coach had curtains of deep, blue velvet—just like a priest’s robe—to prevent him from seeing Denua as he and his guards and footman and driver loaded into the groom’s coach. The drive to the cathedral was agonizingly slow. He tried to affect a smile of radiant happiness as he rode, waving to the shouting throngs. As if they cared about him. He was sweating despite the cold. He didn’t know any of these people, and he wanted this all to be over. Denua’s coach would be lumbering along behind, curtains open, and she would be waving and smiling as well. What was she feeling? Did she enjoy being on display? Finally they arrived. Ceremonially dressed guards formed up around the coaches, and his own guards dismounted to join them. Then the footman let him out and he could really see the cathedral. If Evin had only just arrived in Parige, he would have said the cathedral was the largest building in the world. It was beautifully carved from blocks of gray stone, and its most prominent features were the flying buttresses reinforcing the walls in rows along the length of the building. Far above, he could see the shapes of gargoyles, but closer to the ground, images of—he assumed—the aeons and their saints and prophets were cut in bas-relief around the mighty, arched portals. One of the portal doors swung wide for him now. He stopped gaping. Today he was not a tourist. Surrounded by his formation of guards, he marched inside.

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People stood all along each side of an aisle lit with multicolored light from stained-glass windows high above. Guards parted, allowing him to lead. He walked through the light, watching its different colors move over him, just like the patches of moonlight had caressed Gareth’s skin on that first night— Concentrate. He looked up again toward his destination: the chancel where the priests waited. Evin approached. He saw that the officiating priest’s costume was even gaudier than usual. The man wore a hat with high panels that came to points at front and back. It was white with intricate gold designs. It made him look taller than a man, more imposing. Surely that was the intent, but it also reminded Evin strongly of the tip of a man’s cock. The blue velvet robe had pale yellow stripes sewn on each sleeve, making the design of four stacked rooftops. The robe was worn over a chemise ending in a spill of white lace at each sleeve. And the man was wearing little red leather shoes in the high-heeled style favored by some noblemen. Evin had never seen such a fancy priest. He seemed to be pretending both to holiness and to rank and nobility at the same time. Other priests were arrayed there too, with simpler cock hats and ordinary priest robes. Captain Uliette stood by with a case containing the linens and tiny ceremonial dagger to be used today. Denua’s skin would not be touched by unknown implements. The fancy priest twisted his face into a terrifying smile, fixed it on Evin for a moment, then looked around at the assembled crowd. Loud, slow music began to play, and everyone looked back toward the cathedral’s portals. Denua entered, radiating light and beauty. Her white dress and veil had been ensorceled to make it appear as if a bright beam of sunlight shone on her wherever she went. She glided down the walkway in paces timed with the music. She was lovely. Evin could not look away. Adoration for her surged in his breast, and he knew she felt the same. Finally she was beside him, and they melted into each other’s eyes. She was as he had seen her on that first day, the completion of a lifelong dream of beauty that he never knew he had dreamed. An old man’s voice drew away part of his attention. The fancy priest had begun the ceremony. There were some words Evin had to mindlessly repeat, then a kiss, and then the most vital moment of all—when Denua turned off her shield, the priest sliced their palms with the ceremonial dagger, and Evin’s blood mingled with Denua’s to make them one. Fingers intertwined, they raised their bleeding hands to show the crowd. Two of the lesser priests came forward with strips of linen, and the bride and groom each wrapped the other’s hand. As they fumbled with the fabric, the fancy priest reminded them of the Lords’ requirement that unions of flesh bring forth children for the glory of Teleos, the father of gods. He gave his instruction that husband and wife were to go now to consummate and conceive.

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It took all of Evin’s self-control to walk at a normal pace with Denua as they left the cathedral. His black carriage was gone. The guards were no longer two companies but one, encircling Evin, Denua, and her carriage. He lifted Denua into her coach. Then he paused for effect, as he had been instructed to do. The advisor who had prepared Evin for his role had said the public liked to be “hit about the head” with something called “symbolism.” “Enter, my husband,” Denua called in a loud voice, and he climbed into her carriage. In a moment, guards boarded, the wings snapped out, and they lifted up to leave the cart and horses behind.

*** Later in the nuptial bed, Denua was like an animal, devouring Evin’s body in a way he hadn’t experienced in all the months since Gareth. He did his best to fulfill her, giving all he could to her pleasure, until she was unable to do more. After, Denua was exhausted. She collapsed against Evin as he sat propped up with pillows against the head of their bed. She nestled her head into his shoulder and drowsed. “I love you, Evin,” she said. “Like never with anyone before.” “I know.” “Why do I feel this way? I wish this could last forever.” “I know. You’ve had to protect yourself for so long. You could never let yourself love.” He smoothed the hair tangled on her forehead. “I love you too, Denua.” She rested for a few moments, enjoying the warmth of his body as hers cooled after her exertions. Just when she was nodding off, he spoke. “Denua, I’m sorry. I have to ask you some things. Tell me, the pendant you wear, it’s a key, isn’t it?” “Yes.” “To a vault here in the castle. Somewhere near where you killed the intruder.” “Yes…” A vague, distant part of her wondered why she would admit these secrets to a lover. “You are so powerful, Denua. You’ve kept the kingdom safe for so long.” His voice broke, and he said more weakly, “Thank you for everything you’ve done to protect…everyone.” Why is he upset? “Oh no, don’t cry.” Warm teardrops fell into her hair. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Tell me what your goblet does.” “Goblet…?” Somewhere within her, a feeling of alarm pulsed faintly. “They’re different. One for me, one for you. Mine’s ensorceled. Drinking from it has muddled me these past months.” Deep inside, far enough away that it didn’t matter, the feeling of alarm changed to a shout. She needed to get up and kill him. Kill him quickly. But she

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was cold, and his embrace was so very warm. And she needed to answer. “Keeps me young…” “Ah,” Evin said. “And mine makes me adore you and obey you.” Her eyes were so heavy now. She needed to close them for just a moment. “What have you done…?” “What I had to do.” His wet face nuzzled in her hair. “For the handmaidens. And Gareth.” “Monster…” “He’s not the monster. You’re so cruel. No one near you is ever s-safe. The blood sorcelry, the children you take. You took my sister. Did you even know it? Or was the wine supposed to make me forget?” “Elyrria needs—” “We need to find our own way, now.” “What have you…?” “It doesn’t matter if you drink from the goblet. The wine changes when you put it in. I’ve been changing your wine for weeks so you have to love me. And obey me, at least a little.” “No.” Evin began to rub her arms to warm her. “I’m sorry, darling. I couldn’t make you set him free, and there’s no way to stop you from taking the children.” What had he done? Why was she cold? She needed to—“See!” “No, Denua. You mustn’t see. There’s nothing to see. Be content now and sleep.” She was very sleepy. With a great effort of will, she opened her eyes again and saw their legs intertwined beneath the wrinkled folds of the sheets. There was nothing. She was safe in her lover’s arms, and she could sleep. When Evin was sure Denua’s strength was gone, he reached into the wrappings on her hand, pulled out the tip of a cleansing wand, and dropped it behind the head of their bed. He had put it into her bandage to hide the effect of the medicine he had added to her wine today. Medicine to make blood thin like water, so it would never stop flowing from the hand-fasting wound. Blood spread from her hand, over their bodies, and onto the sheets. He lay in the cooling pool with her for as long as it took. Her breathing slowed ever more. When she was gone, he slid his body from under her weight and pulled aside the bloodstained sheet. He stared at her pendant for a moment, fearing to touch it— remembering Cydrich’s doom—then forced himself to remove it at once. With a sigh of relief, he wrapped it carefully around the top of his calf until he could just get the clasp to close and hold. He took her other jewelry—her shield, new sword, and other things he hadn’t managed to identify—and similarly secreted them on his person.

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It would take time to figure out how everything worked, so he would wait to reach safety before trying any of it. He leaned over to kiss Denua one more time, wetting her face with the last of his tears, then left the bed. He dragged on a pair of breeches and, shedding a trail of blood, ran to the door to shout for a healer.

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Chapter Twenty-eight In the first moments of confusion, Evin slipped away. He might fool the healers at first, but he knew Denua’s underlings would realize immediately that he had murdered her. They would think he hoped to inherit the throne. Wouldn’t they do the same, if they had figured out how? Evin wouldn’t wait for anyone to call guards. He ducked into one of the servants’ passages and walked a few paces to a banner hanging on the wall. He lifted it to find two items tied and hanging from its back. By touching the first item, a soberstone, he cleared away his love for Denua. Warmth washed through him, and grief evaporated. He had been using soberstones to do this for weeks, whenever the wine’s sorcelry made his love for her, his need to please her, too strong to control. Whenever it threatened to make him forget Gareth again. Once his head was clear, he untied the second item, a cleansing wand, and used it to eliminate the drying blood from his person, touching it to places all over his body. He moved deeper into the servants’ halls and, from there, up through the castle’s hidden labyrinth: a path that he had learned well over the past several days as he pretended to wander in aimless sorrow. Through secret passages and hidden stairs, he climbed to some of the highest floors of the castle. Eventually he reached the tiny entrance of a dusty room holding objects stored and forgotten long ago. It was illuminated by an arched window on the far wall, just above a tall man’s height. In the shadow beneath the window, luminous eyes opened, and Evin heard a gentle sigh of relief and happiness that pierced through him like an arrow of joy. “It’s done,” he told Gareth as he raised his breeches leg to undo the clasp of Denua’s key pendant. “We need to hurry.” Gareth stood and emerged from the shadows. He was shoeless, dressed only in a linen gown Evin had stolen for him. Evin’s hands shook as he tried to undo the pendant’s clasp. His gaze kept turning to the small iron cage discarded like an evil hatbox in the corner of the room. It lay half open, but the in-turned spikes lining its interior no longer glistened. Dripping blood had dried days ago in a brown crust on the dusty floor.

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Evin was condemned by the thing’s presence. He would deserve the Lords’ punishment for ever touching it. Together they filtered back down through the castle, two ghosts in the walls. When they reached the door to a servants’ hall near their destination, Evin relied on Gareth to sense when no witnesses would be near. Then they raced through the hall and made their way to the dead-end passage hung with tapestries. Evin went to the tapestry that the intruding sorceler, the one Denua killed, had been inspecting. He lifted it to reveal a wall, featureless except for an indentation shaped exactly like Denua’s pendant. He gripped Gareth’s hand fiercely in one of his own and, with his other, slotted the key into the wall. The wall’s white stone split, and each side rolled up like a scroll. Darkness within. They glanced at one another; then Evin took back the key. They held hands and plunged through the closing wall, allowing the tapestry to fall back into place. The vault was utterly black inside. “Can you see?” “Of course. I’ll look for something that might light up.” “No, wait. Are there lots of things stored here?” Evin squeezed Gareth’s hand, not letting him go. “All kinds. On shelves and tables. Weird stuff like in Cydrich’s tower.” “Good. It’s the right place. I think we’re safe here. Denua would never trust anyone else with a key, and it will be impossible to get in without one.” “Why don’t you want to see?” “Because we’re safe for a few minutes. All of this is a risk. Denua could have trapped the key or the door or the floor, but we made it this far. Some of the devices in here could be trapped, even the lamps. I have her shield, but when I put it on, will it work or will it kill me?” “So you’re afraid of all this stuff. Are we just going to hide here?” “For a little while.” “A little while.” Gareth’s hands led Evin a bit farther into the darkness. “Here’s a place we can sit together.” When they were seated, Evin moved into Gareth’s lap. “Is this all right?” Gareth’s answer was a savage kiss, their first in months. Evin wanted to melt into Gareth’s body, and by the feel of the arms crushing him in, the desire was mutual. Evin said, “I was afraid to touch you while you regrew. You looked so… I was afraid I’d hurt you.” “I missed you, Evin. I missed you so much!” Evin kissed him again. He breathed Gareth’s scent and held tight. After so many betrayals, how could he ever hope to be worthy of the love and forgiveness

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that were offered freely, with no recrimination? He became frantic with his kisses on Gareth’s face and neck, wanting to demonstrate his love now, when it might be his only chance. Cold hands pushed him away, and he was confused until he felt them working to untie his breeches. He put his hands on Gareth’s shoulders and waited for the ties to be undone, then stood briefly to take the breeches off. A rustle of fabric told him Gareth was discarding the gown. Gareth’s hands guided him to sit back in Gareth’s lap. Their stiff cocks pressed together along their lengths, and Evin bent to lick Gareth’s nipples. He loved the sharp intake of breath as he tongued firmly around one of them. When he moved to the other, he brought a hand up to tweak and rub in the slickness he left behind. Gareth moaned, a deep mmmmmm sound that vibrated through Evin’s whole body. Mashed together like that, when Gareth’s cock began to drool, a dollop of liquid rolled down to touch the tip of Evin’s cock. Evin gasped because of its coolness, which made him focus on sensation there, and as the fluid flowed over the head, he was inflamed. He put his hands around their joined flesh and returned to kissing Gareth on the mouth as he stroked them. They continued to make appreciative noises without separating. Evin stroked up past his own tip until his hand was wrapped only around the end of Gareth’s cock. He used a thumb to rub firmly on the seam, where Gareth enjoyed it so much, and pulled away to say, “Can I have you inside me?” “Yes!” Gareth’s voice was husky. Evin put his hands on Gareth’s shoulders and lifted himself into a standing position, then turned to fumble for the discarded breeches. A hand caressed his ass with slow, loving strokes. He smiled. Gareth was patient. Evin turned back and held his cleansing wand out into the darkness. “Here, take this.” “What is it?” He lay down on his back and spread himself. “Touch me with it, and it will make me all clean.” “You’re already clean; I can smell,” Gareth said, but he complied by stroking the wand up through Evin’s crack, over his balls. The tip, with its impossible, dry slickness, actually felt really good. “Now put it into me. Slowly.” “What? No!” “Please. It’ll make me ready for you.” After a moment, the weird, dry slickness of the wand’s stone touched his hole. “Go slow. Fish it in carefully.” The slickness forced him open and glided sweetly in. The tip was smaller than one of Gareth’s fingers, but it felt odd when Evin’s hole closed up around the wand’s shaft and the hard ball of the tip prodded inside him. “Slow…”

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“Uh-huh.” Gareth’s voice was a tight growl. “Hey. See if you can lick around the stick part and make it slick.” When Gareth lowered his face, huffs of his breath tickled Evin’s ass. The wand’s tip danced and wiggled inside him as Gareth licked around his hole and wet down the wand’s shaft. “Okay, put it in more. Yes, slow.” It was like two disconnected sensations. The smooth glide of the thin stick into his ass and the lump of the stone deep inside. There was a faint popping sensation, and the stone grazed him in a spot that made him gasp and jerk. Gareth said, “Oh…you like that.” “Deeper.” A little warm liquid gushed out of his cock, splat onto his stomach. Gareth wiggled the wand slowly in, and Evin writhed to feel the rock prod him inside. Fingers ran across his belly, gathering up the warm wetness; then they were in his mouth. Gareth was so good, stroking him inside with the wand and feeding him his own issue! He licked the thick fingers and sucked them passionately, hoping to communicate his gratitude. “Tell me if it gets too much,” Gareth said, and he manipulated the wand a little faster. “It’s all the way in.” The stick wiggled in Evin’s hole, and the stone moved around, impossibly deep in his belly. Oh, that’s so good! He writhed on the stick a little while longer until Gareth dragged it ever so slowly back out. “I want my turn now.” Gareth’s whisper left no room for argument. There was another stab of pleasure as the stone popped free, and then Evin felt a cloth—Gareth’s gown?—toweling him off back there. “Wha—” Gareth’s hands gripped his hips, and he was pulled in until his back rested on Gareth’s crossed calves and his rear end was in the air. Gareth pressed his face into Evin’s crack and slowly rubbed across him. Gareth stroked all over Evin’s ass with his face, like a child nuzzling a pet. Evin laughed. “What are you doing?” “You’re so soft and fuzzy. I love feeling your fuzz here on my face.” “How stupid.” Evin was grinning like a madman into the darkness, eyes closed in pleasure as Gareth’s face dragged across his tender skin with slow, adoring sensuality. Soft and dry could be nice. Then Gareth tipped him up more and began to lick with intense deliberation. Evin had a nonsensical vision of his body as a golden chalice standing before Gareth, whose face dipped in to lick out and savor the last drops of wine. Gareth’s tongue stroked the sides of his hole, slightly in, back out, then returning to split him lovingly open. Gareth pressed in desperately, licking and kissing Evin’s most private flesh. Evin may have been dry moments before, but now Gareth was drooling, making his ass slick, not letting an inch escape wet worship, still probing occasionally to lick Evin inside.

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The powerful tongue swirled into him, teasing his senses and focusing pleasure on that one spot, like a spark of sorcelry just below the skin. Then Gareth’s tongue moved up higher, pushing and pressing the spark past his balls and into his cock, where it pulsed along the vein. Up and up Gareth teased and coaxed, all the way to the tip of Evin’s cock. Ecstasy burst over his senses with a shock that went to his cock and nipples and teeth all at once. “Ah, ahhhh!” And Gareth’s tongue was back in his hole again. Gareth did that over, and again, dominating Evin with a pleasure that left him as helpless before Gareth as wood in the carver’s hands. And then the thick voice: “Evin, I’ve got to—” And strong hands settled Evin’s back on the floor, moved up his legs, placed them on unyielding shoulders. In the darkness, Evin saw those shining eyes, so full of lust that they bled it into the air like smoke from a flame. The wet, fat head of Gareth’s cock pressed into him, not too fast, but quickly, filling him up and swelling his body like the blood swelling his own cock. And deep inside, Gareth grazed that place that made Evin throw his head back with a gasp of delight. They both groaned together, Gareth’s cock buried as deep as it could go, and they held there for a moment. Then Gareth drew himself out and began to stroke in slow rhythm, giving Evin time to enjoy the building sensation. “Oh, how I dreamed of this.” Evin sighed. Without breaking cadence, Gareth lifted Evin’s leg and delicately trailed kisses along the calf, down to the foot. Gareth licked Evin’s foot and sucked on his toes with more urgency and started to fuck him faster too. All at once he pulled out, leaving Evin empty and confused. “Stand up,” Gareth said. “Spread your feet apart.” When Evin complied, he was jostled as Gareth again sat beneath him. Gareth’s mouth briefly swallowed his cock and drooled to make it slick, but not for long. Thick hands cupped his ass. “Sit down now. I’ve got you.” As he sat, Gareth’s hands slid up his back to steady him, and he found himself settling into a cradle formed by Gareth’s arms. He was lowered until Gareth supported his entire weight. His knees bent over Gareth’s biceps. They were face-toface. Gareth’s eyes stared into his own. Evin’s slick, drooling cock rubbed against Gareth’s silky smooth chest. Damp hardness poked him in the crack. Gareth adjusted Evin’s position a bit, moving his entire body to position his ass. They both moaned at the spark of pleasure from Gareth’s tip pressing into Evin’s hole. Gareth lowered him, gradually filling him again all the way as they kissed. Gareth’s tongue quested into Evin’s mouth. When they parted for breath, Evin began pushing with his legs, pressing his palms into Gareth’s shoulders, struggling to fuck himself on Gareth’s cock. This

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position wasn’t working very well for him, and Gareth chuckled at his desperate desire. “Squeeze your legs together hard,” Gareth said. When he did, Gareth dropped an arm briefly and used it to get up from the floor. Evin remained impaled as Gareth carried him until his back pressed against the entry wall. Then they kissed again, and Gareth used the wall as leverage to begin stroking himself into and out of Evin’s body. Evin tore his mouth from Gareth’s long enough to cry out with delight and then went for another kiss. His arms were over Gareth’s shoulders, his hands in Gareth’s hair. He found himself alternately soothing and pulling hair as Gareth drove, faster and faster now, into his body. In the end, he was just hanging on, the kiss broken, his head bobbing bonelessly as Gareth plowed into him. Pleasure buffeted him like gusts of wind until the moment of release. He came hard, spurting and splashing them both with hot liquid to the rhythm of Gareth’s abandon. The muscles that made his cock spit blasts of seed over his face and hair, chest and belly, also made his ass clench, a death grip on Gareth’s cock. “All saints, Evin, oh, yessss!” Gareth’s cock speared him and surged even thicker as it shot seed into him again and again and again. And they were spent. They rested together against the wall, breathing heavily, with Evin impaled and draped over Gareth’s arms. Then Gareth lifted him again and carried him away. Evin pulled Gareth in to kiss again and found that his face, too, was spattered with seed. He laughed and began to lick. Gareth gently laid them down again, and they spent a few moments cleaning each other. Evin knelt to rest on Gareth’s torso and settled his head against Gareth’s broad chest. “Do you remember what I told you, when you were in the dungeon?” “Yes. You told me you love me. In secret.” “I love you! I love you. But I can never repay what I owe you. For the trouble I caused, and for…t-telling the guards to…to—” “Chop my neck.” Evin curled himself up more tightly, filled with shame that made him smaller. “It’s my fault. I knew Denua would never let you go, so I made her order it, to save you. But I didn’t know…I couldn’t know for sure if it would work. You might have died. How can you forgive me?” “But it did work. You saved me.” “When I told the guard that Denua wanted your head, did you hate me? Just a little? You should have. You didn’t feel it, did you, when they p-put your head in that thing?” “You saved me. So hush.” Gareth stroked him. “We both done awful things to save each other, but you had to do it, didn’t you, and you saved me.” Long minutes passed while Evin shook and Gareth held on. “Shhhh.”

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When Evin could speak again, he said, “We have to save ourselves another time before we can try to find Teffaine. We have to get up from here and risk our lives again.” “Yes.” “Do you want me to test the devices by myself? I could give you the vault key, and if something happens to me, you can at least try to run. You would have a chance.” “No. I want us to hold hands, like at the door, so whatever happens…happens to us both. I don’t want to go nowhere without you.” “Don’t say that! Ever since you got burned, you’ve been too ready to die.” “I hope not,” Gareth said. “I just want to finish this so later I can get you to use that cleaning stick thing on me.” Evin made a strangled sound. “Wanton cow!” Then, “I do love you. We’ll get out of this mess. Together.” “Together. I don’t mind staying here for a while. The castle is nice. I like all the secret places. While you figure out how we’ll all get away, I can be a ghost here. No matter how long it takes.” Evin pushed himself up to search for Gareth’s eyes in the blackness. “Is that what you want? To be a ghost again?” “N-no. Well, I mean, you’re here, so I won’t be alone.” “Denua’s lackeys will be looking for this room right now. Every one of them will want the things in here, because whoever has them will control everything. The whole kingdom. If we leave it all for the blood sorcelers to use, where can we ever go to escape them?” “Oh. Oh no! We can’t…” Evin shook his head. “Taking these things, that’s why we’re here, not to find something to help us escape. The only way to live is to take it all for ourselves. The sorcelry, the kingdom—everything.” “Everything? And then what?” Evin moved in to place tender kisses on Gareth’s face and entwine his fingers in Gareth’s hair. When he had the words, he breathed his vow. “You’re going to live in the light. You’re going to be a king with me. And you will never hide in the darkness again.”

Loose Id Titles by Charles Edward In the Darkness

Charles Edward Charles Edward and his spouse are among the 18,000 same-sex couples wed in California before the passage of Proposition 8. They are recent empty-nesters who live in a drafty house near Knoxville, Tennessee, where there are two good ways to stay warm during the winter. One is to sit in front of the space heater and write. Links to reach Charles Edward: Blog: http://writer-charles-edward.blogspot.com Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/Charles_Edward Twitter: @_CharlesEdward_