Quincy
He hesitated to talk to Cocal, but in the end he either could offer her continued employment, or he had to dismiss her, so that afternoon he sat her down with tea.
“Oh.” She looked down at her cup, uncharacteristically closed off.
“You have no obligation to—”
“No,” Cocal interrupted him, looking up with furrowed brows. “I just thought I would come with you. Like, why wouldn’t I? I haven’t... I haven’t displeased, have I? I know you wouldn’t have wanted Lord Saran to see you like that with the dogs, only—”
“Cocal!” he had to raise his voice to stop her. “You have done nothing wrong. He is a nobleman and an alpha, what else could you have done? And it’s hardly a violation for my own mate to see me in a corridor,” he added, perhaps a tad bitterly.
She didn’t respond, simply watching him. Normally, Cocal was so bold with gossip and encouragement both that it was easy to forget how young she was.
“Would you like to come?”
“Yes,” she said easily. “I have heard of Saran,” she added. “It sounds... well, different.”
Quincy contemplated her for a moment. “You long for something different? You won’t miss your family?”
Cocal shrugged one shoulder. “Don’t think they’ll miss me, if you don’t mind me saying, milord.”
He didn’t mind, not when he had thought the same thing about his own. “It is settled then; you will come with me to this exotic frozen land of Saran.”
It made her laugh, and just that lightened his own load a small amount.
He could not do much for anyone, but he could do this much.
And Cocal had no power at all, but her small kindnesses had brightened his days after Yara’s death, and it was a small comfort to know he would not lose her along with everything else.
Despite all the extra work, the preparations only took an extra day—by which time Quincy could sit without undue discomfort, though of course he’d be travelling in the carriage and not riding.
He was a little nervous about the hours of solitude with his alpha in the enclosed space, though he hardly seemed the type to indulge himself in the middle of a journey and he had been perfectly distant since the claiming night.
But even if he did not do anything in the carriage, they would still get to Saran sooner or later, and Quincy had to come to terms with the sex.
His heats had not returned since losing Yara, but they would now that he was bonded again.
He hoped that might make things a little easier—it was either that or strong drink, anything that would let him surrender his body without losing his mind.
***
QUINCY HAD NEVER HAD the chance to travel far, so the first half day of travel was mostly a chance to look out of the window—they had decided it was safer to transport the dogs in a cage, so he need not concern himself with whether they were following along.
They were not happy with the arrangement, although they had submitted after Quincy had explained.
It was the best he could do. He had learned as a young child that while he should remain open to an animal’s emotions, he couldn’t let them overwhelm his good sense when it came to their safety.
His first thought when they slowed down was that someone needed to relieve themselves, but a moment later there was a knock on the side and the earl’s manservant called out to his master.
Lord Saran must have sensed something was off because he was already yanking the door open and jumping out, careless of the fact that he was only wearing a rather thin robe.
Quincy followed him out, and his eyes landed on the problem right away.
The bridge crossing the Ivald River had half collapsed, probably due to overuse if the rumours circulating the castle were to be believed.
There were a few workmen around it, pointing and arguing as far as Quincy could see, which meant Lord van Avis was aware and dealing with the problem.
“They claim it might take a week to fix it.”
The wave of frustration from his alpha made Quincy turn to look at the man. In contrast, his voice was firm but even when addressing his subordinates, “I see. Is there another route?”
***
THE ALTERNATIVE ROUTE was, of course, both longer and more dangerous, which was precisely the reason the bridge would have been built.
By the time they made it to the foot of the mountain, Quincy was as on edge as everyone else in their little caravan.
The winding path circling it was wide enough for a carriage, but it would require the people leading it to ensure it continued to be the case throughout the whole journey.
“The horses are not used to these conditions,” the earl told him. “But I have the utmost confidence in my people.”
Quincy nearly said something then, but he had nothing more to add, so he simply nodded. “I am sure they will do their best for you, my lord.”
He felt the flash of discomfort and realised it was at his use of the honorific, but his alpha did not correct him this time.
Just then, they jostled to a stop, and a high-pitched cry came from outside that made Quincy throw himself out of the door, stumbling a little but instinctively reaching for the reigns of the nearest horse, muscle and magic joining together to restrain her.
He got lucky; the other three animals were not in a full-blown panic yet, and once he put his free hand on the mare’s neck and shushed her, they all turned towards him, making low complaining noises his brain could translate into a combination of tiredness, hunger and fear.
He should have checked on them earlier. “Yes, yes, of course,” he told them all, which did not quieten them yet but got him a nudge from the mare’s partner.
“Milord?” The driver was standing by his side, reigns gone loose in his hand, and clearly waiting to be helpful. And he wasn’t the only one.
Quincy hesitated, then turned back to the carriage door, where the earl stood watching. “I think they are tired, my lord. The terrain is not easy on their hooves.”
“You think,” his alpha said, voice steady but eyes sharp. Even as closed off as he was to the bond, the curiosity behind that gaze was impossible to miss.
He swallowed, dropping his eyes and nodding.
If he had only thought about it before jumping off like that.
.. but the horse’s pain had been too sharp, the urgency too real.
Perhaps one of the many people whose job was to look after the earl would have managed to stabilise the animals, but it was Quincy’s job to look after animals. Wild or domestic, his own or not.
“Revel, see that the horses get some rest, and check on the dogs.”
Quincy tensed up, turning towards the back of the carriage where Fialia and Xam were, and nearly jumped out of his skin when his alpha took his elbow to walk him towards them himself. “You will want to see them with your own eyes, I imagine.”
He did, even though it was not strictly necessary. Now that he was focusing on them, he could hear the dogs were grumbling and reassuring each other but not particularly alarmed. Maybe they’d had a fright earlier, but animals forgot such things quite fast unless they were actively in danger.
And yet, Quincy’s heart soared as he got to the cage, and he put his hand close to be licked. Now they had plenty to whine about, of course. If Saran had not been holding on to him, he might have just opened the cage door, but as it was, he asked for permission.
He expected doubt or a denial, but he simply got a nod. Lord Saran let go of him and he stepped forward, reaching for the bond to fill in the gaps his mind couldn’t and finding nothing more than the same focused interest he had noted earlier. No anger, at least.
Fialia and Xam were delighted to be free but settled for walking around the carriage sniffing when Quincy gave them a warning.
“One can hardly blame them given how glad I am to be out,” the earl commented casually. “And my accommodations being so much larger.” There was a spark at the end that made Quincy realise he was joking.
It did not help him much in knowing how to respond.
“That was remarkably quick thinking,” his alpha continued. “I did not know you were gifted.”
Quincy’s heart stuttered and he knew with a sinking feeling that he was giving himself away. His face he could keep blank, his posture relaxed, but this man had access to much more than that. He turned his body away anyway, the little he could hide.
In the war, elemental magic—water, fire, earth and air—had become predominant among the provinces and Veolia had intermarried to ensure their line could use fire.
But originally, his people had been farmers, shepherds, hunters and their gift had been to sense animals and the land both.
He wouldn’t have expected a foreigner to know or to be able to guess.
“I apologise.” He thought about using his mate’s name, but it felt excessive.
“Apologise?” The earl’s voice rose with disbelief, and Quincy stiffened. “For saving my life?”
He glanced up, lips parted, mind reeling. His first thought was that it was some sort of game, but Quincy could feel his confusion. “I... For using magic.”
It was obvious his explanation did not help, but he could offer no more, because he was lost himself.
“Lor— Quincy, you can use magic any time you like. In fact, the only thing I want of you is to explain why you would think otherwise.”
Quincy scanned their surroundings. The servants were moving rapidly to load up most of the weight that was on the carriage onto the free horses—a lot of it was his own luggage and he was tempted to suggest they could leave it and aware it was absurd.
The earl was still watching him when he dared look back.
“Omegas are not meant to use magic,” he said as quietly as possible.
“Well, not outside the home.” Everyone had turned a blind eye to his mother’s very obvious affinity with animals, and it had been thanks to her teachings after he had presented and been barred from formal instruction that he had developed his abilities beyond pure instinct.
His alpha’s anger was like the rising tide, making him tense up for a blow. Quincy hated it. No one had hit him, not since childhood scuffles, but his body was still afraid.
“The more I learn of Veolia—” the sentence got cut off, and he heard a low exhale that announced the anger easing off.
It was not gone, simmering but still hot, the earl had simply taken firm hold of himself and put it away.
“Let us get you some food and drink,” his mate decided, and Quincy allowed himself to be led back into the carriage.
There, he discovered that he was both hungry and cold after standing exposed to the mountain air for so long.
“We encourage omegas to use their magic,” his mate told him after a little while. “I do not understand why anyone would not.”
Quincy had been asking himself the same question for twenty-three years.
The answer burst out of him before he could think better of it.
“Fire is too dangerous a tool to be left in the hands of someone you want to submit.” He held himself stiffly, not looking up from his cup, face burning and too tense to try and process the emotions coming at him through the bond.
“I suppose you would not want to train someone you treated like that for fear of them using it against you.” The alpha sounded thoughtful of all things, like they had suddenly wandered over into a discussion of military strategy he found quite intriguing.
Quincy could not quite believe what he was hearing, but he spoke anyway. “Yes, exactly. And... my gift is not the high gift, so even before it was not seen as very valuable. I learned some from the stable master who trained our war horses, and from my mother, after.”
There was no harm in saying as much, his mother was long gone, too. She’d died in childbirth the year after Quincy had been married. As her only omega child, it had been him holding her hand as she fought for both her life and the baby’s.
“After?”
“After I presented. I was late. Seventeen,” he added, unsure. It was said a late presentation spoke of low fertility in an omega, though for some reason it was meant to promise great wisdom in an alpha.
Lord Saran must have already known, because he focused on the rest. “Such— quaint notions,” he said slowly.
Quincy would not have needed the bond to tell the word he truly wanted to use was much harsher.
“Well.” He met Quincy’s eyes across the carriage.
“If that is the case, I owe you an even bigger thanks for your quick thinking. I do not know what might have happened without your expert assistance.”