24. Chapter Twenty-Three
24
William
W illiam thought he remembered home. Henry’s presence proved otherwise. The laughter of his brother and the joy his smile wrought had always been bright in memories, but paled compared to reality.
“The days will be dull without your company,” Charmaine said from the chair she occupied at the back of the medical tent. Henry took the seat beside her, both staying out of William’s path while he tended to a soldier suffering from food poisoning.
“Do not compliment him so openly. It will all go to his head,” William teased.
“Ignore my dear baby brother.” Henry leaned toward Charmaine. “Compliment away. I am worthy of them.”
William rolled his eyes and covered the soldier with a blanket. He took his medicines and his droopy eyes closed. Then William joined Henry and Charmaine. He grabbed another chair so the three sat together. This had been the most at home he had felt since his inscription. He couldn’t imagine losing it again, though he couldn’t imagine Henry staying longer, either. It was too much of a risk. William’s paranoia kept him awake most nights. The smallest sound had him imagining Fearworn’s beasts encircling the camp, preparing to strike. Henry would be taken and William would blame himself.
He repeated day and night that nothing would cause Henry harm. He would never allow it, and the generals would ensure their safety, too. No amount of convincing eased his worry. After all he had seen, it became difficult not to concoct every worst case scenario in vivid details.
“How long will the journey home take?” Charmaine asked.
“About a month.” Henry chugged a pint of wine that had been brought earlier, courtesy of the generals for one of the oh-so-important mages. “Traveling the sea takes the longest, but once this war is over, the trip will be little more than a blink to you.”
Charmaine wrung her hands together. “I hope so.”
“You should prepare yourself, William. Mother is unlikely to let you out of her sight once you’re home.”
“I can’t wait,” William admitted honestly.
He didn’t care if one thought him to be childish. The moment he returned, all he wanted was a hug from his family and to waste the days away with his mother. They would knit like they used to, and read books together in the lounge. Over the years, she must have finished plenty of them. She’d have recommendations a mile long.
Hopefully, the garden will be in bloom. Asiatic lilies had always been his favorite, planted in a patch along the west side of the garden. They could take a walk to see them, then have a cup of afternoon tea. Their cook, Sherry, made the best chamomile tea this realm offered. A single sip could lighten the foulest day.
William craved the mundane, the simple moments. Somehow even more so after talking to Nicholas, who learned too much, but William learned quite a bit too. More than he ever expected to hear from the fae. He wasn’t certain how he felt about that. Was it wrong to have enjoyed being with him? Had he gone truly mad out here?
“It grows late. We should grab our evening rations,” Charmaine suggested.
The three rose. William stepped ahead, exiting the tent first. He came face to face with the last person he wanted to meet his brother.
“Good evening.” Nicholas had an impish gleam in his eyes. William threw a frantic look over his shoulder. Charmaine and Henry closed in, chuckling about Henry spilling wine on his uniform. William’s older brothers often snagged a bottle from their father’s office to drink—they got William cookies from the pantry for his secrecy—and Henry could never hold his liquor. Based on his flushed cheeks, nothing had changed.
“What are you doing here?” William clutched Nicholas’ wrist, intending to drag him into the shadows. A drunk Henry and curious Nicholas would not make a good combination. He didn’t know what to expect of Nicholas around his brother, if the fae would behave himself or William had to fear for his brother’s life and limbs.
“Do not look so panicked. I merely wish to meet your brother,” Nicholas said.
“There is no need.”
“There is every need. My curiosity requires it.”
The tent flaps fluttered. William released the fae and offered his wide-eyed brother a calm smile. Henry cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders. “Good evening, Lord Darkmoon.”
Henry mentioned a shade being among the ranks. William hadn’t expected him to know Nicholas by name, or to recognize him. He wanted to ask if the two had officially met, but Nicholas stepped in.
“How polite. Call me Nicholas,” he replied. “I hear Heign’s Magical Society has some of the best mages Terra has to offer. The Vandervult family must be blessed to have two adept mages among them.”
He resisted the overwhelming urge to shove Nicholas into an obscured corner and slap him over the head. Charmaine was too, based on her wrinkled nose.
Henry gave him a curious glance. “Are you acquainted with my brother, then?”
“Indeed, I am. Were you not informed of our capture?”
“Capture?” Henry’s eyes said he had a lot of explaining to do. “No, I have not heard of that.”
Resisting the urge to curse, he knew better than to attempt stifling Nicholas, so he set off for the rations and let the others fall in behind him.
“Oh yes, it was quite the ordeal. I am sure you heard of our momentary acquisition of a book of monsters belonging to one of Fearworn’s fearsome shadowed disciples. Fearworn was very displeased and sent beasts to reclaim it. William and Albie here got caught in the crossfire and we were taken off into the forest, where we battled to survive for many days.” Nicholas’ story piqued Henry’s interest enough to ask further questions. Nicholas was, of course, more than happy to explain the details. Thankfully, he did not speak of the nights he and William shared, so at least he had some sense.
Charmaine caught up to William. Peeking at the gossiping duo lagging behind them, she whispered, “We should put a stop to their chatter. Why is Nicholas even doing this?”
“Curiosity,” William answered. “And likely to torment me.”
“He won’t torment Henry, will he?”
“No, he wouldn’t…” The words congealed on his tongue upon realizing he truly believed that. Nicholas can be troublesome, chaotic and rude, but he and Henry weren’t in danger. Not anymore. When did his thoughts change so much? And why was he relieved about that change?
Henry laughed at Nicholas’ story about the trees nearly devouring him and the fae appeared enthusiastic to speak more on the matter. William’s fingers flexed. He looked away, fearful of his own expression, of this growing sensation at the center of his chest, more powerful and frightening than the battlefield.
“He wouldn’t, what?” Charmaine asked.
“Nothing. Nicholas is being troublesome, but we should be alright.” William hurried. Soldiers surrounded one of the ration stations, and it took them a while to get their portions. Not that Henry or Nicholas minded. The two finished the harrowing tale of their capture as the four of them sat around a fire.
“I have shared a wondrous tale with you, so I find it only fair that you share a story or two with me.” Nicholas’ conniving grin had William debating on chucking a fiery log at his head.
“What kind of tale would you like?” Henry’s words slurred because Nicholas had been kind enough to grab another bottle of wine. He didn’t ask, just waltzed into their makeshift storehouse and took one. No one had the courage to say otherwise, and William didn’t mind having another glass, until now.
“William here can be so dour. Would you mind sharing an embarrassing story?” Nicholas pleaded.
“Ha!” Henry slapped his thigh and threw his pint high. “I am more than happy to give a dozen of those stories.”
“How marvelous.” Nicholas snickered under the immense heat of William’s glare.
He couldn’t fathom why Nicholas wanted to know. He claimed to be curious, but they shouldn’t be curious about each other. They shared a bed sometimes, nothing more. It should end there. Nicholas shouldn’t be listening to Henry for every detail. William shouldn’t feel nervous about how Nicholas will react, if he’ll find the stories humorous or think little of William. None of it mattered, that’s what he kept telling himself.
“As a boy, William wished to read,” Henry exclaimed, his eyes glassy from intoxication. “Any holiday, every birthday, he asked for more books. The boy had so many piled in his room that he went to grab one and he caused an avalanche. My father and I heard his dreadful shrieking from down the hall. We believed him to be injured, but when we arrived, we found his bottom half covered in books and his top helplessly trying to crawl his way out.”
A flush creeped up William’s neck from the group’s laughter, even Charmaine, but Nicholas’ attention made his heart stutter. He was scared to explain this feeling, this beauty of warmth—like the first rose budding in a field of weeds.
“To this day, we find his books scattered throughout the house. He left some under tables or stashed behind a couch cushion like a rat hoarding treats.”
William grumbled over the rim of his mug. “You exaggerate. I was never that bad.”
“You fell asleep nearly every night with a book. Mother had to check on you to ensure you didn’t drool on the pages.” Henry wheezed from his laughter and took another drink.
“I didn’t drool, either.” William’s flush deepened when Nicholas mouthed ‘you snore, though.’
“Our father mapped out all the bookstores in town, ensuring we avoided them on busy days. If we passed, William had to stop and none of us had the heart to say no. Being the youngest truly has its perks.” Henry leaned over to pinch William’s rosy cheek.
Henry’s tale put a thoughtful expression on Nicholas’ face. “Is that common? For the youngest child of a family to be treated with such affection?”
“It is certainly quite common, from what I have heard and seen.”
“Strange for him to grow up to be such a boorish and crude man,” Nicholas teased, furthering the group’s laughter. Charmaine gave an apologetic grin when William cast her a disbelieving stare.
“I thought you would be on my side at least,” he chided her.
“I normally am, but you are boorish and crude sometimes.” Charmaine shoved the last of her rations in her mouth as a poor excuse to silence herself. William gave the rest of his food to her. It helped her headaches and an ache formed in his stomach, albeit, not as unpleasant as he expected.
William slumped against the chair. Nicholas devoured every tale Henry shared from nightmares that sent William running for his brother’s room to the time a carriage passed on the street and the wheels threw horse manure in his face, then he vomited on a gentleman’s shoes. That last story may have put a smile on his face because it had Nicholas laughing until tears filled his eyes. They made the pink hue an even more enchanting shade.
When he cast his attention toward Nicholas, who listened with rapt attention and a gleeful smile, William dared to think a day together in town would be nice. He wouldn’t be opposed to taking Nicholas to all those bookshops and sit in the park listening to a band play. They could spend an evening at the opera or share treats at the bakery. Nicholas would find their town curious, the shops, the streets, perhaps the architecture too. He didn’t know what Faerie was like, but he heard stories that the lands were of nature. They had no brick buildings like Terra. The city would be a whole new world and William could show him that world.
Then maybe they could visit Faerie together. Nicholas would show him a new realm, a world he couldn’t fathom. The little he knew of Faerie painted it as mystical and strange, something only the mind of a child could conjure. He never thought he would want to see the home of fae, and yet, he had the urge now.
They were alarming thoughts, troublesome as Nicholas himself. The two indulged in one another to pass the time, for William to forget, nothing more. There shouldn’t be more. He repeated that through Henry’s tales until the man inevitably drank too much. His brother fell off his makeshift chair, words too slurred to continue, and the last remnants of his wine spilled across the snow. All had finished their rations long ago. Others hadn’t joined them at their campfire, fearful of Nicholas. William worried his fellow soldiers would ask questions, but Henry’s presence may be enough to ward off any suspicions. It would make sense for a mage from Heign to converse with Nicholas, the shade expected to end Fearworn.
Laughing, Charmaine stood. Her eyes had taken on a glassy sheen, but she had the ability to speak evenly, “I will take Henry to his tent.”
“You should leave him. Let him regret all of this in the morning,” he said as he prodded Henry’s cheek with the tip of his boot. Grunting, Henry smacked his ankle and rolled over. William’s cheeks ached because he hadn’t smiled this much in years.
“Don’t be so cruel. He has a long journey ahead of him.” Charmaine wandered around the fire. She must have sensed William wanted to have a discussion with the bothersome fae that had the aura of a man who won far too many prizes. Charmaine wasn’t too different. That grin spoke of shared amusement after listening to Henry weave childhood stories long enough that the fire was little more than sparks.
“Up we go.” Charmaine lugged Henry onto his feet. He swayed, somewhere between dream land and drunken reality.
William wished both of them a goodnight. Henry tried to ruffle his hair when passing by, but his fingers barely swiped over William’s head. Then the two disappeared. His heart ached and leapt at knowing Henry would leave tomorrow. This momentary joy wasn’t enough. The intensity of his yearning to see his family grew exponentially. He could not fathom another day, another week, another month to a year or more without them. But he didn’t want Henry here, either. His eyes shut to keep the tears at bay, then he set his firm attention upon Nicholas.
“Did you have fun?” William asked.
“The evening was an utter delight.” Nicholas rose, only to take a seat at William’s side. “Your brother cannot hold his liquor.”
“Luckily for you.”
“Very lucky.” Nicholas’ hand inched closer, allowing their fingers to brush. William couldn’t risk this. He set his hands on his lap, breaking the connection and ignoring the fae’s scowl.
“This wasn’t only about curiosity, was it? Why did you spend an evening listening to childhood stories?” he asked.
“Your childhood stories. I wanted to hear them and your brother was here. I thought he would give them up easier than you.”
“Why did you want to hear them?”
Nicholas sent his attention skyward, where the gloomy clouds forever reigned. “I mentioned my father and siblings before, so you should be able to guess that I do not have such fond stories of my family. Any childhood story of mine that ends well pertains to the land.”
“I believe it’s only fair if you give an example, considering all you learned tonight without my consent.”
“I cannot argue with that.” Nicholas chuckled. “Hill Castle, that is where I was born and raised. My siblings and I knew our home well, so we couldn’t hide from one another when times were rough. I escaped their cruelties by hiding in the field of sunflowers at the back of the estate. They liked me.”
“The flowers did? How could you have known that?”
“If my siblings followed me into the field, the sunflowers tripped or swatted at them. If they got close, the soil shifted, and the flowers held me. I would spend days at a time playing there. If I wasn’t in the field, I went to the mountains nearby. They loved making labyrinths to test my skills.”
“The mountains constantly changed their path?”
William’s disbelief was clear enough that Nicholas laughed. “You do not believe me.”
“How can a mountain forge a labyrinth? Someone must carve through it.”
“A mountain range in Faerie is as alive as you and me, as is the sea, the trees, and the flowers. They have minds of their own and I spent my days among them because they loved a good game as much as I did.”
“It’s strange,” William muttered. “You’ve making me want to see Faerie for myself.”
“I do not exaggerate its beauty and charm. There truly are no words to express it. I wish for you to see it one day, for I genuinely believe you would love it as much as I do.”
William started to believe he would, too. He couldn’t imagine Nicholas’ tales, but he wanted to see them. However, after this war ended, he and Nicholas wouldn’t see each other again. The end of the war would spell the end of them. His heart lurched when it shouldn’t, when it should be harder than steel.
“Well, this has been an interesting evening.” William stood and willed the ache in his chest to cease. “Goodnight, trouble.”
“Goodnight, my wicked,” Nicholas whispered.
When he stood, the two were close. William dared to shut his eyes when Nicholas leaned in because he wanted a kiss, wanted to feel Nicholas’ addictive mouth against his and run his fingers through unruly hair. Then he remembered all the dead left to rot for being stupid enough to be with fae.
“What are you doing?” William pushed Nicholas aside and retreated. His frantic gaze swept over the camp, falling on a group of soldiers laughing around a firepit. No man mentioned seeing them.
“They aren’t paying attention to us,” Nicholas said.
“How easy it is for you to say that. They won’t slit your throat in your sleep, you fool.” The insult pointed more at William than Nicholas because he had been a fool to ever accept Nicholas’ invitation, let alone more.
William walked away, relieved Nicholas did not follow. He pressed a hand to the fierce beat within his chest, willing the damn organ to cease its dramatics.