14. Chapter Thirteen
14
William
W hen William woke, crust coated his eyes. He tried not to think of last night, of Nicholas’ hands and vicious mouth exploring his body. Of those roseate eyes adoring him, reflecting his voracious hunger to remind him of the mistakes made. He especially refused to think of how he wanted more. In those moments, when lust overcomes all thought, it’s easy to pretend nothing else exists. William can forget the world, every thought and worry he has ever had, and drown in a moment of ecstasy that lets him believe, even for a second, that life is good.
Then the next morning he always woke to grim reality. Shifting onto his elbows, he glared at the sleeping fae, no doubt aware of the internal dilemma he set upon William. It’s what Nicholas wanted; to push him, to evoke a reaction. Sometimes the bastard said the right thing at the right time because fae were calculating and, as he expressed, William stole his interest. Rather, William gave him attitude when others didn’t and the fae were strange enough to find that a desirable trait.
William crawled out of the carriage. Charmaine stalked outside, hands wringing together and eyes trance-like. The sun rose well past dawn. He couldn’t recall the last time he slept in. As a child, he was allowed when ill, but otherwise his loud brothers or a soft kiss from his parents woke him. Here, danger lurked everywhere, so sleep eluded most even when they were in dire need of it.
“You can rest. I’ll take the next watch,” William called.
“Are you sure?” Charmaine’s eyes narrowed on something. “There’s a dark spot on your neck.”
“Probably a bruise from yesterday’s tussle.” A tussle with a dumb fae who should have known not to leave visible marks, and he should have known better than to give in.
Charmaine took the bait or was too tired to think otherwise. “I’ll take a brief rest then.”
“You can rest as long as you need. Once Nicholas wakes, I’ll search for herbs.”
William threw Arden a glance. Although the fae slept, his wounds healed slowly. The shadowed disciples truly were a force to be reckoned with to down a fae for so long. And William had less power than he wanted to admit. The continuous days of little food and rest took its toll. His magic was too tumultuous to risk using further. He refused to die for a fae, of all things.
“We can’t move with Arden like that, even if we are potentially close to the army,” he added.
“Don’t search for herbs alone.” Charmaine meandered toward the carriage. “Wake me, so I may go with you.”
William nodded, although had no intention of waking her. She needed rest and he wouldn’t go far. Charmaine crawled into the space he previously occupied and shut her eyes. Shivering, he took a moment to search the surrounding area, ensuring nothing lingered nearby. Charmaine had done the same, based on her footprints. He continued the circle, allowing the walk to warm him and the aching of his muscles to keep his thoughts at bay. At least until Nicholas wriggled out of the carriage to catch up with him.
“Sleep well, my wicked?” he asked, catching William by the waist. The now far too familiar touch almost made him shiver.
He shifted out of Nicholas’ clutches and marched on. “I said not to call me that.”
“And I elected to ignore you.” Nicholas skipped ahead of him. “Are you now electing to ignore me?”
William’s eyes swept over Nicholas without his consent, still thinking of last night, of how little he truly saw in the night and how he’d much rather see it in the light. That was a thought he elected to ignore.
“I am relieved you haven’t changed this morning.” Nicholas licked devilish lips that tasted too sweet to belong to him. “It’d be no fun if you suddenly became bashful.”
“If I play bashful, will you leave me be?”
“Try it and find out.”
“It’s always a game with you.”
“Life is boring without games and I think you’ve had more fun playing these games with me than you let on.”
Shaking his head, William stepped toward the trees. Nicholas followed, though came to a stop when William held up a hand and said, “Keep watch. I’m going to search for herbs. Alone.”
“But there is so much more we can do together.” Nicholas took William’s wrist and tugged him close. Their lips brushed. William felt Nicholas’ wry grin, could practically hear the lustful thoughts churning in his mind, then shoved him aside.
“Stay here,” William said.
“I don’t like being ordered around.”
“If you behave, I might reward you when I get back.”
Nicholas hesitated to snarl, “I’m not a dog willing to listen for treats.”
William walked away, snickering to himself when Nicholas didn’t follow. It seemed the dog would listen for treats, even if he didn’t intend to give any. On his trek, William found no herbs or food. They hadn’t eaten since yesterday, having finished the last of the dried creatures from the hot spring. His stomach twisted, but he was accustomed to hunger. His thoughts strayed to more pressing matters; what transpired last night with Nicholas. A piss poor decision made by the wrong head.
He couldn’t risk telling anyone lest he wanted a good beating, at the very least. Charmaine would be appalled, rightfully so. Nicholas swore not to tell, but fae had their ways. He knew that and made the mistake, anyway. Too tired, too cold, wanting to feel anything other than death lingering over his head. Indulgence made the mayhem of his life a little less foreboding. He never felt good otherwise, rarely had a glimpse of hope or joy.
“Fuck,” he muttered and kicked at the snow. A piece rolled away, stopped by hitting a pair of military boots, same as his. William looked up, expecting to see Charmaine, but met a pair of accusatory brown eyes, ones he knew too well. That he knew wasn’t actually there because Hugh was dead. That knowledge didn’t stop his lungs from constricting when Hugh’s mirage inched closer. Light cut through the trees to unveil Hugh’s pained expression, one of betrayal and hate. He stood tall and strong, thick hands that flexed so the veins bulged beneath bloodied tan skin.
“You’re seeing things,” William whispered, but could not will his eyes to shut. When Hugh died, he visited William through horrendous nightmares. Then the dreams became so sweet he woke up in tears. Over the last month or so, Hugh’s memory faded, as if William’s mind was desperately trying to forget him entirely. But there he stood, as if he had never left.
“Was it so easy to forget me?” Hugh asked, every word carving a deeper wound to the scars already there.
“He isn’t real,” William muttered, and finally closed his eyes. An icy breath hit his cheeks. He told himself it was the wind. When his eyes opened, the trees bent from a strong, frigid breeze and Hugh had vanished. The pain hadn’t.
“When this war is over, when we are home, I would like to be with you, William. Properly.” Hugh said that and William suddenly had hope because he did, too. He hoped his family would accept the cheerful farmer’s son that made him think for a brief and na?ve moment that a happily ever after may be real. But then reality hit, like it did now.
Charmaine shouted for William, breaking him from his stupor. He burst into a run, hand on the knife at his waist. Guilty thoughts diminished in the face of a potential battle. His heart leapt, ardent and desiring a distraction. His worries and excitement disappeared when he came upon their campsite. Over two dozen of their scouts surrounded the caravan. Nicholas stood among them speaking with Duke, the mentor that accompanied him on the night they met in the medical tent, along with an unknown military official. Not a general, but certainly higher up based on the symbols stitched to his jacket.
“I never thought I’d be so relieved to return to the army,” Charmaine said under her breath.
“Me either.” William joined her by the carriage, struggling to forget Hugh’s ruined expression.
A group of fae passed, carrying a stretcher. Arden grunted from within the carriage. They set their kin upon the stretcher and walked off. Perfect timing, too. Oscar’s boyish face peeked out of the crowd, bright eyed and gaping. He darted over to them, passing the fae a cursed look, then setting his thrilled attention upon them.
“Albie, William, you’re both breathin’!” He shouted, showing that he shared Charmaine’s love for hugging by wrapping her in his arms. Then he moved to William, who gently patted his back and counted the seconds to freedom.
“We was beginnin’ to think you were dead.” Oscar retreated, allowing two others to approach. Oscar and the other soldier carried jackets, gloves, water, and food. The nurse, Francesca, was a medical mage, the same as William. The only opportunities women had in the military were as healers paying off family debts or seeking money to support their families. The military loved to drown the desperate.
“Inspect Albie’s leg first,” William instructed. “I did what I could, but for some reason, the injury appears to have become infected.”
“It isn’t infected,” Charmaine argued, but allowed Francesca to guide her to the edge of the carriage. Francesca peeled the fabric away. A bruise, too big for William’s liking, marked Charmaine’s leg. He healed her injury, and yet something was amiss.
While Francesca inspected the damage, Charmaine and William took the offered clothes. He rubbed his gloved hands together, relieved by the warmth of the fabric. Even salted pork carried a holy taste after days of spion legs and questionable eel-like creatures. Charmaine shoveled the food so quickly into her mouth he feared she’d choke.
He set a hand on her shoulder. “We have food now. No need to inhale it.”
“Right. Sorry, I’m famished.” She took a long swig of water.
“I know. Me too.”
“What happened?” Oscar asked. The other soldier that brought their provisions hesitated to leave. His eyes wandered between Charmaine and William. They wanted a tale, one that would move swiftly through the ranks. Out here, gossip spread better than a virus.
“Those beasts grabbed us and flew off,” said Charmaine between rabid bites. “Nicholas and William slayed one. We roamed these woods for days with monsters constantly on our tail, and then Fearworn appeared.”
The soldier shut his eyes and pressed two fingers to his heart in a prayer. William resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Oscar and Francesca shared expressions of horror, expecting Charmaine’s words to be a joke. When neither laughed, Oscar muttered, “How did ya survive?”
“Dumb luck,” William replied.
His attention shifted from Oscar to a figure closing in on them; Duke. Behind him, Nicholas walked off with the other military official. William caught the fae’s attention. Nicholas winked, then disappeared among the scouts.
“William and Albie, is it?” Duke called once he came upon them.
“Yes?” Charmaine muttered.
Settling at their side, Duke gave a low nod. “Lord Nicholas informed me of your assistance during this endeavor, particularly of you, William. He might have died out there without you. His father and betrothed will be pleased to hear of his safe return.”
William bit his cheek. He tasted blood. The salt from the pork burned the inside of his mouth. His expression did not mirror the worry festering like an old infected wound in his gut.
“Betrothed?” Oscar asked in his stead. “Fae wed and the like? I always thought their kind were a bit too promiscuous for that.”
“Faerie customs differ from ours, although some do ring similar. There are marriages among their kind and practices differ from land to land. I admit I’m not too educated on the subject.” Duke spoke as if his next words were of genuine delight. “Regardless, Evera Bloodbane is her name. Her brother, Amos Bloodbane, serves alongside us, and their mother has sent many of her kin to fight. Don’t be surprised if any of them pay you a visit one day. Fae always return favors.”
William did not see that as a favor, but a warning.
“I’m glad to have been of service,” he replied, anyway.
Frustrated would be a more appropriate term. William did not know of fae customs in terms of marriage or engagement, either. He could not fathom them having care for anyone other than themselves. He suspected Nicholas and Arden may have taken each other to bed, whether Evera consented to that arrangement or Nicholas didn’t care was beyond him. Regardless, any excuse for trouble, fae took, and Nicholas bedding a mortal certainly spelled trouble.
“I am also most grateful. Lord Nicholas is of great importance not only to Faerie but also to Terra. He’s our greatest hope against Fearworn. I will ensure to inform His Royal Majesty about your deeds, as well,” Duke added.
William wasn’t keen on earning the king’s attention. After all, he ordered children to war, including William. When he was drafted, he had been confused and guilt-ridden. A voice whispered that his brothers should have gone and his heart ached for ever wishing the cruelty of war upon them. But as he got older, wiser, he remembered his mother asking his father why the king chose William and Robert replied; you know why.
Robert Vandervult never had an issue standing his ground. That included telling the king he was failing his people. He hoarded wealth, cut funding to hospitals, orphanages, and homeless shelters. He founded workhouses instead, turning a blind eye to helping those in need. Robert claimed them all cruel. William wasn’t a part of politics, but even he understood Robert had caused a ruckus by the strange looks they received in town and the parties the Vandervults were no longer invited to in high society. When the king started the draft, he ordered William to go. That was Robert’s punishment for standing up to him.
But William wouldn’t dare speak of that to Duke, so he forced an amicable smile and nodded. Duke excused himself, then a scout ordered everyone to prepare to move out. Francesa wrapped Charmaine’s leg.
“The bone is not broken, nor is there an infection,” Francesca explained. William determined that, but suspected he may be wrong from exhaustion. Hearing the same from Francesca worried him. If nothing is wrong, the bruise should be gone.
“All I can suggest is that we monitor the wound and regularly heal it.” Francesca approached William. “May I take a look at you?”
He nodded. The scouts banded together, preparing to leave. Francesca finished up, deeming him fit to travel. A moment later, the group began the trek to camp with Charmaine and William safely tucked between them.
“I’ve become accustomed to being around so many people that they make me feel oddly safe. Sometimes,” Charmaine said, huddled by William’s side. Her steps had a lightness to them he tried to mirror.
“I’m certainly relieved knowing there are others to remain vigilant rather than us,” he replied.
Especially now, when his mind wouldn’t cease. Evera, and her brother, Amos Bloodbane, William made note of the names, seeing as they may belong to the ones who slay him in the future. He never planned to speak of what transpired with Nicholas, not even to Charmaine, but now he had even more reason to keep silent. Last night never should have happened. He was a fool. He knew better.
“How long will it be until we reach the camp?” Charmaine asked.
“About two days,” Oscar replied. “That damn gorge frightened the lot of us. Did you see it?”
William and Charmaine nodded.
“A strange magic,” Francesca muttered. “A few of our scouts nearly stepped in and the fae tried to cross using magic, but it did not work. Took us an extra day to walk around it.”
“No one knows what it is?” Charmaine inquired.
“Some fae debated it may be a dumpin’ ground for Fearworn’s creations,” Oscar replied. “A place for his cursed magic to fade and die, but it has all been guesswork.”
“Plausible guess work and, well, I don’t want to go back to discover the truth.”
“Nor do we!” Oscar crossed his arms to hug himself and shivered. “The military continued movin’ during our search, too. They headed further north after comin’ across a den of monsters.”
“We outnumbered them,” Francesca said. “There were casualties, but the generals saw it as a sign that we were moving in the right direction. Or that’s what we heard through all the gossip, so we are lucky to have found you here so close to the new camp.”
“I think we should head this way, too, if you came across,” Oscar swallowed hard and whispered the name like a curse, “Fearworn.”
“He came because Nicholas had something he wanted. That tome from Lockehold was a book of monsters,” William explained. He didn’t divulge how Nicholas had a way to track Fearworn. He would never mention Darkmoon, but he also didn’t want to present false hope. Nicholas could track him. That didn’t mean they would defeat him.
“Did he take it?” Francesca asked.
“Yes,” Charmaine replied.
“Then we lost our advantage.”
“I don’t believe so. Nicholas claimed to have something better, though wouldn’t share what. He loves his secrets.”
“I am okay with secrets if it brings an end to Fearworn and this war,” said Oscar.
William agreed, although was no more optimistic than usual.