Chapter Nineteen
Robin
“I refuse to believe it’s dull-witted, love,” a soft laugh in a pretty voice, slate-gray eyes flat and cold. “Look how the creature is looking at us. It’s stubborn.”
“Some training’s in order, do you think?”
Robin blinked awake from the memory of laughter to find himself stretched out on one of Zyr’s couches, still in the library.
Usually, when he refused to sleep after a shitty day, he woke up to find himself curled up somewhere uncomfortable with a blanket as a pillow and drool on his arm.
This time, there was a pillow under his head, a blanket draped over him, and a big, blond beithir sitting on the floor, leaning back against the couch.
The man had taken to the hills when they got back from Banyan, roaring lightning while Robin read trashy pulp novels until his eyes ached and reminded himself that Zyr would come back.
It was his allotment. He had to come back.
Robin squirmed down, so he could press his face into Zyr’s neck. After being kidnapped, fearing for his life, and watching Zyr come face to face with a couple millennia worth of trauma, waking up to something as nice as this shouldn’t be possible.
And yet.
“You awake?” he asked, voice still thick with sleep.
“I am, Treasure,” Zyr said, voice flat. “Rest proved elusive.”
Flat was better than the cornered animal stare of the previous afternoon, when he had the Monarch’s dainty finger on his cheek and chin as she smiled down at him with that condescending, smug poison smile.
Zyr, frozen, breathing sharp, had shown no signs of the steely, prickly, clever bastard who’d just played a game to save Robin’s scrawny ass.
No wonder he’d spent the night as a giant, fuck-off lizard, screaming at the sky.
Robin couldn’t help him with that. He could throw an arm around Zyr’s shoulder, and curl it around for a loose embrace from the back, face pressed against him.
“Most of yesterday sucked,” he said. “Especially for you. My bag’s at the end of the couch with an orange bottle inside. Grab me a pill from it?”
Zyr let out a soft breath, reaching sideways to fetch the bag and bottle of pills, and offering one to Robin. “I believe we could debate at length whose day went more ill.”
“As much as I like a good debate, that’s not really on my to-do list this morning. Were you outside all night?”
Pill in hand, Robin pushed himself up on an elbow to take it. Faerie had only tried to magic up medication for him once. After Robin rambled to air for three minutes about why it wasn’t a good idea, it hadn’t offered again.
No offense to Faerie. But Robin didn’t feel like risking death because the magic, sentient universe didn’t have a degree in pharmacology.
“Not all of it.” Zyr’s tail curled, feather-light, around one of Robin’s ankles. “I’ve been trying to recall the details of my missing books. I remembered some of what was written of the veil’s destruction. Sleepless nights have their uses.”
“I guess so. Anything useful?”
“Perhaps. I fear it aligns well with your own theories.” Zyr’s affect was still flat, and this time, when he said I fear, he didn’t show it. Didn’t even tense.
Robin hated this. Hated it. He turned, half on his side, half on his chest, both arms wrapped around Zyr and a fresh glass of water offered–thank you, Faerie–until the dragon took it. Once he had, Robin put his hand over Zyr’s eyes, if a touch hesitantly.
“Drink first. Your throat sounds raw.” Robin wrapped his free hand around Zyr’s wrist. “Then tell me what you remember.”
Near darkness. A glass of water. Simple, imperative sentences.
Zyr could pull away if he liked. Even if Robin held on tight, and he didn’t, Zyr could move away or just ask Robin to let go. Robin would. He wouldn’t corner Zyr into this.
But Zyr didn’t pull away. He went still. Quiet.
Finally said, “A moment.”
Robin gave him the moment, lips pressed to Zyr’s hair. Waited, as Zyr drained the glass, then set it aside.
“There are too many words on your wheel I might list, just now. And I can’t seem to feel any of them.” With a sigh, he leaned back further against the couch. Against Robin.
“Disassociation will do that to you, yeah.” He squeezed Zyr’s wrist, just once. “We don’t need to talk about the feelings wheel right now.”
“What were we speaking of?”
“You spent last night remembering what your book said about destroying the veil. You’re going to tell me about it.”
Zyr’s tail traced the shape of Robin’s ankle, up to his calf. Robin relaxed into the touch, the featherweight brush over his skin and jeans.
“The veil is the oldest possible magic,” he said. “Possibly as old as Faerie itself. The book theorized on its makers, theorized that it had makers. The author claimed the Gates were proof of it.”
“Makers? Like a Faerie god? Did it say where the makers came from?”
“The human realm. The text proposed that, rather than fae and humans being two separate races on opposite sides of the veil, they were both of that realm. It suggested that Faerie, and the veil, is the collective magic taken from a group of fae, likely when early homo sapiens sapiens began to reach heights their predecessors failed to.”
That, admittedly, took a bit of chewing to sink in properly. Robin glanced around the room, like the eyes of old, dead fae were looking back at him. Maybe they were.
“What do you think?” he asked at last.
“I’m not certain. Most see Gates as a manifestation of the veil, as if it is their aspect.
The author saw them as anchors. To them, the veil was less a wall between realms and more of a tether between them.
They theorized that should a Gate die, truly die, that death could be used to cut the tether.
Separate us, entirely. Though they suggest that channeling the energy necessary, the energy of a Gate’s death would require almost unimaginable power. ”
“Which Kesk and Veroni don’t have. I’ve met Lysander a couple times, and he doesn’t seem the sort to go around convincing other Gates to kill him, or to let him kill them.” Which left limited avenues. “Which would leave the Monarchs and maybe changelings.”
“Yes. And we know the two changelings in Faerie have no plans to kill a Gate. Nor has a third made a home in Faerie. The Monarchs… I’m not certain.
They’ve previously displayed no interest in closing the veil, but they are fickle, and the power they hold is distinct.
Particularly to me.” Zyr’s tail tightened, and Robin knew he was seeing the Monarch’s smug, fond smile.
Quiet for a beat, two, three. “You are no pixie, Raven-Robin.”
“You’ve given this human your pelt, have you? Played him the pixie.”
Zyr’s shallow breathing, focused gaze, tail barbed and twitching.
“Literally or figuratively. I know.”
He meant it to be reassuring, but Zyr shook his head just enough to be felt. Still not trying to shake Robin off.
“That’s not what I meant, true as it is.
More accurately stated, you aren’t a utility.
I didn’t seek you out because I wished you to control me.
” Zyr’s claws brushed carefully over Robin’s fingertips, where they pressed against his pulse.
“I implied otherwise, yesterday. Put what you are to me on display and twisted it to fit the narrative we required.”
“Zyr,” Robin said, as emphatic as he could manage without ruining the quiet between them. “Beithir. You saved my life. And yours.”
“Be that as it may, I would be clear in this. Treasure among treasures. Cruel bird. Raven-Robin. And whatever titles you’ve yet to give me leave to read.
” The first flicker of emotion in Zyr’s voice was fondness.
The barest hint of it, and Zyr tipped his head back, closer to Robin.
Good. “A multitude. But you’re not a whip at my feet.
Not discipline I require to function. I am yours.
That fact does not make you my keeper. I’ve no wish for you to be. ”
That…
Right. Okay. Time to set things straight.
“This is probably the part where I tell you not to worry about stuff like that,” Robin said, careful but not slow.
If he paused, he’d overthink this. Fuck it up.
“But I get it. Why you would. I’m not interested in that kind of relationship either, beithir.
I like you being yourself, and you don’t need a fucking keeper. She was full of shit.”
“I loathed it,” came the muted response. “I despised myself for using what we are in order to appear as what she requires.”
“I’m glad you did.” And, yeah, Robin dug his nails in a little at Zyr’s wrist. The beithir needed something other than his own thoughts to focus on.
“You did well, beithir. That was fucked up and terrifying and you faced down someone who hurt you and beat her at her own game. You did exactly what you needed to, and that’s all I could ever ask for.
You didn’t disrespect anything. Hear me?
” No. Not that. “Tell me if you understand.”
Zyr swallowed hard, stock still right down to his tail. Thinking. A good sign. It had to be a good sign.
(Robin fucking hoped so.)
“I understand, Raven-Robin.” Rough and–thank everything–unsteady, breath hitching as he leaned into Robin all the more. “Thank you for the clarification.”
Best sign.
“You’re welcome. Thank you for explaining.
” It didn’t warm him to his dark little soul or anything.
Never. “We’ve got a lot to talk about with everything from yesterday, and the stuff you remembered, but we’ll need strings and bullet points and notes.
I need to go back to Earth in a couple days to tell my boss I need more time off for a family thing so we can figure everything out. ”
And, just like that, Zyr went wire tight. Had a rumble to his voice when he spoke again. Sounded more like himself.
“Are you planning to travel alone?”