20. Chapter Nineteen
20
Nicholas
F earworn reeked of disease and festering decay. Observing through his eyes set Nicholas on edge. Fearworn had moments of clarity where he spoke calmly to his generals, fanatics, and monsters. Then came the long hours spent over books, muttering to himself in a language Nicholas could not place. He wouldn’t be surprised if the words meant nothing or Fearworn created one all his own. He had the obsessive nature to do so, scribbling away, experimenting, and ignoring the world. Fearworn wouldn’t eat if his disciples didn’t scurry in with plates to feed him themselves. None appeared to care, worshiping him with misty eyes that craved the power seeping from him. Literally. That miasma never dissipated. Power so great it took physical form shifted about his figure in streaks of violet like watercolor on canvas.
At times, that power streaked through Nicholas’ veins, too, a rabid hunter in search of prey, exhilarated and avaricious. A jolt struck him to the core, overwhelmed by the promise of becoming undone, taken solely by all the universe offered, to let it settle over his fingertips. He could grasp hold of the world and never relent, unravel all that was and would ever be if he held tight.
“Nicholas!” a shrill voice yelled, then a yank startled his eyes open. His own eyes, at least. Fearworn’s view fell away. He returned to camp, his tent specifically. Arden stood at his side, one hand clinging to his bicep. The other pointed at where he once sat. Nicholas smelt the smoke before he saw the burn marks creeping from the circle he had sat upon. Pink flames licked the floor, sputtering into nothing.
“You nearly caught the tent ablaze,” Arden explained.
“Did I?” Nicholas couldn’t recall. He remembered Fearworn’s fast hands stitching a beast together with a shimmering thread that breathed life into the wretched beasts.
“What did you see?” Arden asked.
“Nothing important. Nothing more than what we’ve already learned.”
Fae and mortals alike knew Fearworn had generals, but Nicholas’ suspicions were proven correct days ago. Fearworn didn’t give as many commands as previously predicted. His generals made plans. While that made the targets heavier upon their heads, it didn’t deter from the truth; regardless of Fearworn’s lack of commands, he was the driving force behind the war. Those who sought power or wished to cause havoc flocked to him, worshiped him as a god and for good reason. His power remained a risk, unfathomable and terrifying as nature itself.
Nicholas could fall to that, too. The moments of excitement when captured by Fearworn’s visions were not his own. That excitement came from this energy within him, threatening to overtake him one day. Nicholas never wanted that. He didn’t want to become undone, to have power but not his own because he wouldn’t be himself anymore.
So often, he didn’t feel like himself, anyway. He was born an extension of his father, further valued the moment he became a shade. Fae recognized the Lord of Darkmoon, and Laurent’s children recognized him. They obeyed Laurent’s every command because the consequences were too severe to risk. Nicholas danced to Laurent’s song even on the days where he skipped a beat or two. That is all he could manage without fear of repercussions.
If he ever stopped playing along, if he fell like Fearworn, life as he knew it would be over. Nicholas would be a husk of his former self, alone, deteriorating into nothing and no one would care. Fearworn had his disciples, but what did Nicholas have? Nothing. No one.
“I do not find this consistent lurking to be of any good for you, or the rest of us.” Arden’s nose curled in distaste. “Had I not arrived when I did, you may have destroyed half of the camp.”
Nicholas snorted. “Half? How weak do you think I am?”
“Would you prefer to destroy all of the camp?” Arden held up a hand. “Don’t answer that. While I wouldn’t mind the loss of these mortals, there are some of our kin I would like an evening of debauchery with prior to their demise.”
“I will take note of your desires, but do not believe for a moment that they matter. Now, why did you seek me out? Hoping for another evening from me?”
Arden winked. “Always.”
Normally Arden’s interest gave way to excitement, but Nicholas found himself disinterested, disappointed, even. A voice whispered how Arden was at his side for his own reasons; power, pleasure, whatever deal he had with Laurent. He’d leave the moment Nicholas’ eyes flashed purple.
“But I fear we don’t have the time now,” Arden added, to Nicholas’ strange relief. “The generals and our commanders want an update.”
Nicholas groaned. Acquiring Fearworn’s blood may have been a breakthrough, but it had become most tedious for him. The generals treated him like a lapdog they could beckon at their leisure. He would give them a piece of his mind after he discovered why Duke entered the tent carrying a letter.
“Sir Darkmoon.” Duke bowed. “A letter has arrived from your father.”
“Yes, Duke, I can see that.” And he was not eager to read the letter, so he nodded toward his desk. “Leave it there. I will read over it after I update our fae commanders and the generals. They have requested another audience.”
Duke set the letter aside, then the three journeyed to the commander’s tent, with Nicholas ensuring every step to be slow. Most of the generals were not pleased when he arrived based on their snarls. The generals weren’t accustomed to being kept waiting.
“I’ve learned little more than what had already been shared,” Nicholas explained from where he stood at the head of the table, palms pressed to the edges and body leaned forward. Generals and fae commanders lined the table, listening. “Fearworn does not have another army as formidable as what recently attacked us, although he is working on one in a new location. He continues to experiment on the beasts. Do not doubt for a moment that we won’t face even more new monsters in the coming weeks. Perhaps not perfected, but certainly an annoyance.”
“You have seen nothing to hint to where he is hiding?” General Wright inquired. Smoke filtered from the cigar trapped between his lips. He knocked the ashes onto the ground, accompanied by many more from the surrounding generals, inhaling the wretched stench.
Fearworn left the lab after the assault. Nicholas hadn’t caught where, too preoccupied by returning to camp hoping to battle an army of monsters. He missed out on the fun, a disappointment, but there would be more battles to come. Another chance to unleash. Nicholas couldn’t wait to give in, especially lately. He feared falling to the energy within otherwise, like he’s always teetering on the edge of a cliff, wishing to return to the depths of the sea below.
“I have not,” Nicholas replied. “Fearworn rarely leaves his room. When he does, he never goes outside. I continue to believe this lair is underground or built into a cliff side. It’s certainly not a fortress of brick and mortar.”
“And we have found various underground hideouts, so there’s proof they have done this before,” Amos said. He absentmindedly toyed with a coin that slipped between the grove of every finger. “Our scouts recently dispatched a hideout not far from here. They believe it was used to spy on us, so the scouts are continuing ahead. I believe the army should continue their march, too. We should take the lab while Fearworn isn’t there and their forces have weakened. We’re onto them and they know it.”
“We shouldn’t stretch ourselves too thin. What if Fearworn moves around us? What if more beasts took to the lab since the attack?” Herald asked.
“That is why we have reinforcements guarding the remains of Lockehold,” Morrison said. “Fearworn created a haven for his beasts, but there is only one way in and one way out. His flying monstrosities may be able to escape over the mountains, but the sides and rear are surrounded by freezing waters. Even if they somehow dug out of the mountains, they’d be slow and cold. His generals wouldn’t risk that, so they would have to pass by Lockehold, or move through a Shimmer into Faerie.”
“My kin are watching the Scars on their end,” said Amos. He tossed the coin and caught it. “If Fearworn tries to go through one leading to Faerie, he will meet more formidable foes than he could ever expect. As for the lab, that is a risk we should take. If we take hold of it, that is one less place Fearworn can turn to and another Scar, the most threatening one, under our supervision.”
“Agreed. We want to ensure Fearworn’s armies are left in the open, that they have nowhere to run, so we should press on,” Morrison encouraged. “We can’t stop now when we are so close. You can’t stop, Nicholas. We need to know every move Fearworn and his disciples make.”
Nicholas nodded. The generals continued their discussion. In the end, they agreed to send half of their forces to take the lab. The other shall remain, waiting for reinforcements summoned from the south. Nicholas would be among those battling for the lab, which had his fingers twitching beneath the table.
“Your father’s letter,” Duke muttered behind him after the generals called an end to the meeting.
“Will be read when I damn well feel like it,” Nicholas growled.
“We both know he doesn’t like being kept waiting. The messenger will leave by morning.”
“Then I have all night.” He waved dismissively. “Leave me.”
Duke didn’t hesitate, although his cold eyes said enough. He hated waiting until the last minute, even if Nicholas always responded on time. He tempted trouble with his father, but never truly courted it. He knew better. Laurent had a nasty temper. Most wouldn’t believe it upon meeting him because he held himself with the grace that many High Fae did. Nicholas shared his father’s blood, but not his uncanny ability to appear harmless. Any who dared to think such things learned swiftly that Laurent was anything but.
In Nicholas’ tent, the letter sat atop his desk like any other, but it held enough weight to make his wrist ache. He sat at the desk, clutching the scrap of paper, glaring at the stamp along the back. A full moon set into black ink with a shooting star encircling it, the symbol of Darkmoon. He slipped a nail carefully under the seal. Laurent didn’t play as many games as his children, but he enchanted a letter once to bite Nicholas’ nail off. The letter opened without a maiming and was as curt as ever.
The eyes of a corrupted shade are a dangerous place to lurk. Limit your time and use it wisely, less you risk a similar fate. I do not enjoy repeating myself, either; do not needlessly put yourself in harm’s way. You have duties, a woman to marry and children to sire. Be smart.
“Test subjects to sire,” Nicholas grumbled, then caught the letter a flame. The contents barely differed from the previous letters. Laurent played a game and expected Nicholas to do the same when he lacked any interest.
After writing a halfhearted response, assuring Laurent he would be more careful, Nicholas tossed the letter at a random fae passing by his tent to give to Duke. They sprinted off while he stepped toward the encampment, intending to tumble with Arden except the thought of sex led his mind astray, to eyes colder than the air in his lungs and hair of golden silk caught between his fingers, the scent of disinfectant and a witty mouth. A night not of mediocrity, but of drowning attention. Nicholas’ feet carried him to the mortal camp in search of a moody medic. Desire blossomed in his chest, unyielding in its ferocity, ravenous in its hunger.
Nicholas discovered his favorite plaything inside the supply tent. William searched through crates containing herbs and potions. Charmaine kept close, although he was fairly certain she wasn’t medical personnel. From what he could deduce, fire mages were useful for cauterizing wounds, so they lingered about in case doctors needed them. Charmaine carried a clipboard while speaking out items William searched for in the crates. Once found, he slipped a handful into a dozen leather bags and they moved onto the next. The fae hid along the exterior of the tent, listening intently. Their packing could have just begun, but Nicholas intended to wait. He had things to discuss with William. Apparently, so did Charmaine.
“You’ve gone missing a few nights this month.” Her tone carried a hint of excitement. “Who is he?”
“He?” William repeated.
“Who is the man you are spending your evenings with? I am sure you have a few tales to tell, considering I don’t see you again until nearly dawn.”
“What does it matter? I’ve taken plenty of men to bed. There is no reason to get excited.”
Nicholas stifled a growl. He never cared about one’s previous partners. Arden had more than any could count and earned a plethora of near-death experiences from spurned partners. Nicholas certainly had his fair share, too, near-death experiences included, but the idea of another putting their hands on William infuriated him. Knowing others heard William enraptured by ecstasy, knew he could be so much more than apathetic, made Nicholas imagine foul scenarios.
“Of course I’m excited. You have hardly seen anyone since Hugh, I just,” Charmaine abruptly cut herself off. A suffocating tension, thicker than smog, clung to the air.
“It’s pointless sex, nothing more,” William said with his carefully crafted deadpan tone. “There is no point in having a relationship here. It is a distraction, that’s all.”
Nicholas stepped aside, shielding himself further in the tent's shadow, when a vexed medical officer approached. She entered the tent without noticing the sneaking fae.
“Tuckerton, what are you doing here?” the officer asked and meandered through the tent in search of something.
“I have wall duty in an hour, sir. I wanted to help William until then,” Charmaine replied.
“Well, you can help me for a moment, too. A couple of idiots got into a fight and two of our nurses are sick with a cold. Now, come along,” the officer demanded and exited the tent with arms full of bandages and herbs. Charmaine swiftly followed. When she passed, a potent scent of musk hit Nicholas’ nose. Stifling a sneeze, he slid into the tent.
William had his eyes on the bags, inspecting the contents of each. Then they shifted to Nicholas and narrowed. “What are you doing here?”
“That is an impolite way to greet someone.” Nicholas grabbed William’s wrist and tugged him close. “You should start with hello.” William denied Nicholas attention by continuing to read over the clipboard. The fae scowled. His hand fell to William’s waist. “Do you find monotonous work more interesting than me?”
“I find most things more interesting than you,” William replied.
Nicholas pulled at William’s shirt, dislodging the fabric from where it had been tucked into his pants. His fingers caressed small circles into William’s shivering skin. “Your trembling says otherwise.”
“Trembling,” William mocked. The bridge of his nose wrinkled. He appeared a moment away from arguing, then fell silent when Nicholas brushed his lips over the fluttering pulse of his neck. Nicholas smiled when William leaned into the touch, one hand now clutching Nicholas’ arm while his lips ravished smooth skin. He tasted of desire, taunting and addictive.
“Who is Hugh?” Nicholas asked. William tensed, causing Nicholas’ curiosity to deepen.
“A dead man,” William replied.
“That you had a previous relationship with?”
“Which is no concern of yours.” William escaped Nicholas’ vice grip. He opened another crate and grabbed a handful of items to place in the packs.
“Concern?” Nicholas repeated. “Perhaps not, but I am curious by nature, and you are constantly testing that curiosity.”
“Keep that curiosity to yourself or you will come to regret it.”
“Your desperation to avoid the topic tells me he was more than a bedding partner.” Nicholas expected a glare. However, William flipped through the pages of his clipboard, double checking his work like the well behaved soldier he feigned to be.
“A lover, then,” Nicholas said, flexing his fingers. The back of his neck heated. “How peculiar. You don’t seem the type to hand over your heart.”
William huffed. “Does your visit have a purpose other than annoying me?”
“Yes, but I enjoy the way your forehead creases when annoyed, so I may continue this banter for my own pleasure.”
“I will point my gun at your crotch again, but this time I will shoot.”
“So nasty!” Nicholas feigned a frightened shiver. “Fine, I’ve come to share news about Fearworn.”
His eyebrow twitched at how swiftly that earned William’s undivided attention. Nicholas loved the attention, but in this case, Fearworn’s name got William’s mind reeling, not him. It was infuriating. He had never ached for one’s gaze as much as William’s. He hated it. He wanted someone to look at him, just him, to see him and want him. Of course that wouldn’t be William, but Nicholas ached all the same.
“What news do you have?” William asked.
“Fearworn has left the lab, though I know not where. He continues to manipulate new beasts to prepare his next army. The generals have summoned reinforcements, although we will not be at full force for at least a month.”
“Surely they won’t have us sit here for a month, either. We’re fish in a barrel.”
“Indeed, which is why we won’t attack Fearworn directly. Half of our forces shall remain here waiting for reinforcements while the others take to the lab. The generals seek to destroy the monsters remaining there, claim the Scar and the fortress while ensuring Fearworn has one less place to hide. I will be among those forces which sets out tomorrow.”
William gave him a slow once over. “Your tone says you are leading up to something. Go on, speak it.”
“Come to my bed tonight.”
“Why should I exhaust myself with you when there’s a chance I’ll be leaving tomorrow, too?”
“Because I want you.” Nicholas grabbed William’s hand and brought them chest to chest. “And you want me.”
Nicholas caught whatever snarky remark William had with a kiss. He couldn’t get enough of the taste, of the force caught between them. William clung to his waist and stole the breath from his lungs. When they separated, it was for a mere breath before diving in for more, as if this was the first and the last moment they would share. Then Nicholas set their foreheads together, each panting for breath.
“Do you not have another unfortunate mortal to chase?” William muttered. Every word made their lips brush. Nicholas couldn’t stop from kissing the fool again, from nipping playfully at his pink lips.
“There is no being upon this realm, or any other, that has my interest as much as you.” He kissed along the edge of William’s mouth, over his cheek, and down to his neck. He wanted to devour him, to burrow beneath William’s skin and sear his bones. “I merely want the arrogant bastard who continues to toy with me. I cannot imagine there is another like him.”
William scoffed. “How am I toying with you? We’ve spent a couple of nights together.”
“A mere five.”
“Oh?” William tangled his fingers in Nicholas’ hair. With a yank, he forced their eyes to meet, stealing Nicholas’ infamous grin and wearing it better than even he. “I always knew I was a good lay, but to have the great Nicholas Darkmoon count our time together so seriously, I must be grander than even I surmised.”
William dodged the kiss Nicholas tried to give. He growled, “This is the moment where I threaten to leave because you are beginning to annoy me.”
“Now you know how it feels.” But William gave the fae what he wanted, another kiss he could have dragged on for much longer, but William retreated. “I will see you this evening, trouble.”
Perfect timing. Footsteps grew close. Nicholas suspected Charmaine was about to return, so he kissed William again and vanished, keen for night to fall.