The Price of Freedom (Heirs of the Empire #2)

28. Lukas

28

LUKAS

T rysta is waiting for them at the docks. She greets them both, grasping their forearms in turn. Next to her is a small dark-haired woman, dressed in a roughspun shirt and breeches. “This is Razelii,” Trysta says. “My companion.”

Despite her shabby clothing, Razelii offers her knuckles like a fine lady and Lukas and Elric both greet her by kissing them. Lukas doesn’t say much. Doesn’t feel much like talking. The Blue Blade feels warm and comforting against his thigh, but he cannot begin to think about what awaits him on this ship.

He climbs into Trysta and Razelii’s small rowing boat with a sour taste in his mouth, stomach ice, heart fluttering. Elric is strangely silent too.

In the dark of the boat, Elric takes Lukas’s hand. Lukas leans close and kisses Elric on the temple. It stills his clanging heart a little. Whatever he will face seeing Damon again, he will face it knowing Elric is his.

Trysta and Razelii take the oars and bring the small boat away from the docks and out towards the dark horizon. As the midnight bell chimes from the Temple of Zai’s Heart, Lukas sees a ship hove into view. A simple single-masted ship, sitting just far enough from the docks it cannot be seen from shore.

“That’s The White Watch,” announces Trysta. “Crew of seven. Me, Razelii and Opeth, our other companion. Damon, of course, and his lover. And two other crew members we kept when we took the ship. We need seven to sail. All are loyal.”

“Damon’s lover is here too?” says Lukas. “The slave?”

Trysta laughs. “I doubt Damon would remain here if he wasn’t.”

This statement prickles through Lukas. Truly, Damon is not the man he thought. He has thrown away his status as a nobleman of Azuria for the love of this slave. Lukas is intrigued to meet this man. Both men. This slave and the Damon he never truly knew.

The rowing boat reaches the ship and they climb aboard. When they arrive on deck, Marko comes racing up with her tail wagging. Excited to see them. Elric squeaks with delight and bends down to pick her up, muttering, “You're here? My darling girl.” He kisses the scruff of her neck.

Lukas leans close and says, “Trysta likes her.”

Elric pets Marko’s belly as she rolls over in his arms. “Who wouldn’t?” he says.

With Elric carrying the wriggling Marko, they follow as Trysta takes them to a small galley. A woman who is almost as tall as Trysta, with short hair and pale skin, greets them. Trysta makes introductions. This is Opeth. Her voice is like music. She wears a short white chiton, which seems impractical for life at sea, but she has the air of a queen.

“Who is this?” Opeth says, pointing at Elric.

Before Lukas can reply, Trysta says, “He is the son of Lord Harwin Underlia. The Warden of Pluma-Ferris.”

Opeth looks Elric up and down. As if this is both too much information and not enough. “And why is he here?”

“He’s with me,” says Lukas. “He’s mine.”

Which Opeth seems to find perfectly satisfactory. She bids Lukas and Elric sit at the long galley table. As Elric sits down he says to Opeth. “And I’m called Elric.”

Opeth laughs at this and turns to the fire, she fusses with bowls and serves Lukas and Elric barley stew and spicewine.

Lukas does his best to eat. He drinks half a cup of spicewine to calm himself. When he’s halfway through his bowl of stew, a slight man comes into the galley. He has dark hair, long onto his shoulders and a very pleasing, fine-boned face. He wears only a hip cloth and he has strange scars and brands on his arms, legs and chest. The marks on his chest are most interesting to Lukas. Four runes are branded there. They look a little like Ambolk. But no dialect Lukas can read. He wonders if it is Ur-Ambolk. Lukas glances at Elric. From the way Elric is staring at this man, Lukas feels sure Elric can read the runes on his chest.

The man pauses, looking at Lukas with an expression of soft amazement. “You’re here?” he says.

“I am,” says Lukas.

“You are Lukas Darekul? You look very much like Damon,” says the man. There is a small, but noticeable bite mark on the man’s shoulder. Lukas tries not to stare at it. Was that bite mark made by Damon? Damon who lives? Damon who is on this ship? Damon who makes love to this man?

“I am,” says Lukas again. “Are you my brother’s lover? The slave.”

The man nods. “I am Lyr. I am Damon’s lover and I am his slave. He is my lover and my Master.”

Something about this statement makes Lukas’s mouth dry. “I understand my brother cares for you a great deal,” he says, but he’s looking to the door. If Damon’s lover is here, where is Damon? Would Damon simply walk into the galley unannounced? What is Lukas meant to do if that happens?

Beside Lukas, Elric takes a gulp of his spicewine and says, “I saw you. At your trial. I saw the marks on your chest and back. And I was at the scaffold. I saw Damon give his skin for you.”

“That he did,” says Lyr. “He has given up a great deal for me.”

“The whole of Attar thinks you dead,” Elric says. “That you died pining in the dungeons of the Rose Palace when Damon was exiled.”

Lyr smiles. “Good,” he says.

“And Damon too,” says Elric. “They say he could not have survived that punishment in exile.”

“He survived,” says Lyr. “Damon knows how to survive.”

“And he is here?” says Lukas. His voice sounds fast and chattery. “Damon is here. He truly lives and he is here. On this ship? Can I see him?”

“You can,” says Lyr. “He waits for you in the Captain's cabin. He knows you are here. He sent me to fetch you. He thought you might like to meet him first in private.”

“I would,” Lukas says. He gets up from the table so fast and nervy that his chair tips over behind him, scaring Marko who leaps onto Elric’s lap. His legs feel shaky. This cannot be real.

Is he feeling excitement? Fear? He cannot tell.

Elric reaches out, takes Lukas’s hand and squeezes it.

“Let me show you the way to him,” says Opeth.

Lukas takes his hand from Elric’s, who mouths to him, “I love you,” before Lukas turns and follows Opeth from the galley.

Opeth leads Lukas through the softly creaking dark of the ship to the Captain’s Cabin. “Here, I will leave you, Lukas Darekul,” she says before she turns away. And then she is gone, back into the belly of the ship and all Lukas has is a door.

And behind that door…

Lukas knocks.

After a moment, when all Lukas hears is his heart beating hard, a voice calls from inside, “Come in, Lukas.”

Just the sound of that voice makes Lukas’s heart flip over in his chest. The last time he saw Damon at the Rose Palace might have been a swordfight. But the last time he heard that voice say his name was longer ago. Much longer. Lukas had been a youth of fourteen summers. Already planning to run.

Lukas's breath is coming sharp as he steps into the cabin. Why did he come here? He could have gone back to the mountains.

In the cabin, three candles burn on a large desk. Behind the desk, a man stands. Lukas stares at him. He looks different. Taller. So tall, head almost touching the cabin’s wooden ceiling. His skin is sun-burnished in the candle light. He is stronger, muscles thick in his bare arms. Older. Lukas feels tears prickle his eyes.

Damon. His brother.

“Damon I…” Lukas feels his voice fade away.

Damon looks at Lukas, looks him up and down. Looks at the hook. “Lukas.” His voice is soft and deep. “Brother. It is good to see you.”

“I heard you were exiled and that exile meant your certain death. I have… I have been mourning you.”

Lukas sees Damon smile. “Mourning? You thought me dead? Of all the men in the Empire? Surely you know better than that.” He sounds amused. “I am the One Man Army.”

Lukas stands where he is, still in the open doorway for a long moment. Both men, both brothers, look at each other.

Then Lukas moves. Moves by a force he isn’t certain is his own doing. But he moves, he races across the cabin, around the desk and into Damon’s arms. Damon’s big arms that open to him. It has been a long time, a long painful time, since Damon held him.

Lukas feels like he is feeling every emotion, spilling from him like a rainstorm. Everything that has happened to him since he fled his bedchamber at the age of fourteen. Every moment he has spent without his brother. His brother who held him when he cried for his dead mother. His brother. Damon. It all crashes over him like a great wave. Sweet and terrifying as Damon holds him. He puts his face on Damon’s shoulder, damp eyes against Damon’s skin.

Damon buries his face in Lukas’s hair.

Lukas feels like he has finally found his way back home.