23. Chapter Twenty-Two
23
Nicholas
M onsters laid dead at Nicholas’ feet. Fire burst from shattered windows and entryways. Blood stained his arms up to the elbows. The battle for Fearworn’s lab ended, won with little effort. Since Fearworn and most of his forces vacated the lab, not enough remained to guard the citadel. Now it, and the Scar, belonged to them.
Nicholas stepped over corpse after corpse to approach the Scar shimmering like tears of a falling star. The portal hovered at the center of the citadel, barely as thick as a quill. The air around the Scar bristled with corrosive life. Violent tremors and strikes of lightning hit the ground, burning the earth black. He peered at the despondency swirling within, feeling it twist beneath his skin. A clawing, gnawing bite, his fingers twitched and neck cracked. That Scar spoke of corruption, misshapen and condemned. He retreated, for perhaps his father made a point. Sometimes, a fae had to know when to stop meddling. This Scar spoke of horrors even Nicholas didn’t want.
His suspicions were proven correct when one of the mortal soldiers dared to touch the Scar. They screeched like the damned, veins set ablaze by flames. The soldier flailed, then shattered into ash. Nicholas had never seen that happen before, though heard stories about Scars that Fearworn opened were different, violent in nature.
Blair’s hands shoved against Nicholas’ back with such force, he tumbled toward the Scar. Cursing, he caught himself and swung on her, fist raised. She dodged, cackling, eyes crinkled into joyous crescent moons.
“Are you not old enough to know to keep your hands to yourself?” Nicholas retreated, but Blair threw an arm around his neck. She tugged him closer, forcing them to stand eye to eye.
“What’s wrong? Scared you would have fallen in?” She clicked her tongue. “Ever think about trying to close one?”
“No one knows how.”
“A shade opened this one. A shade should be able to close it.”
“I will likely die trying.”
Blair laughed. “Then that is how your end will come to be.”
Nicholas shoved Blair’s hold aside. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t be daft,” she spat, eyebrows knitting close together. “What do you suppose will happen after this war is over? Father will want these portals closed, in Faerie, of course. They spell trouble for all of us.”
“He won’t risk my life. Unfortunately, I have children to sire, remember?”
“Which you and Evera will get out of the way as hastily as possible. Once you’re through, Father will find the next issue for you to deal with.” Blair waved her hand at the Scar flickering with foreboding light. “He will send you to close these because you are nothing but his tool. With some luck, you’ll slip through and never be seen again. You’ll die alone or become another creature’s problem across the realms.”
“You needn’t remind me every chance you get that you wish me to be dead.”
“Is that really what bothers you?” Laughing, she walked away, knowing she was right to question him.
Nicholas scrutinized the Scar, little more than a thin cut in the world, and imagined slipping through it. This wouldn’t be like the one he passed from Faerie to Terra. There would be pain, most likely death. Though Laurent knew that, he would send Nicholas to deal with them, anyway. Nicholas had his uses, so he would be used, but that didn’t mean Laurent wouldn’t risk his life, obviously. If Nicholas died because of Laurent’s plans, so be it. Laurent would find another tool and sharpen it as beautifully as he sharpened Nicholas.
You are nothing but his tool.
Snarling, Nicholas stormed off. He, and everyone else, steered clear of the Scar. They attended to the lab, ensuring every monster lay dead, and tossed their corpses into a ditch outside of the citadel. Soldiers cleared out rooms, preparing the space for a good night’s rest. A handful of their troops would return to the rest of the military in the morning. The others would keep to the lab, ensuring no monsters returned.
That night, Nicholas didn’t join the others at their fires to celebrate this supposed victory. He found a room, lit the lantern hanging from the wall, then fell upon the poor excuse of a bed. Blair’s words irritated him more than they should have. No love had been lost between Nicholas and his siblings. Their love had never been on his list of wants, nor his father’s. But it would be a lie to say he didn’t want someone to care for a cursed shade doomed to walk a poor path. Realistically, he would succumb to his power and become a shell of who he once was. If he somehow didn’t, Laurent would continue leading his life without remorse or care.
Nicholas often considered battling Laurent. Finally, putting his foot down and demanding to be respected. Then darkness settled in. He couldn’t breathe recalling the days or weeks spent trapped between cavern walls, his father’s footsteps echoing nearby and his dispiriting voice asking, “Are you ready to behave?”
Nicholas struggled. He fought. He scratched at the rock that always returned. Somehow, someway, Laurent always had the upper hand. Knowledge from eons of lives spent while Nicholas was considered little more than a flake of dust. Twenty-three years meant nothing in the long life of fae. He was less than a child by comparison. Laurent was proof that it was always brains over brawn. Nicholas hadn’t caught up. He wasn’t sure if he ever could.
A rap sounded at the door.
“Fuck off, Blair,” Nicholas growled, in no mood to play more of her games. He mentally chastised himself for that truth because what fae didn’t relish in games? William’s boring ways must have rubbed off on him.
“Not Blair,” Arden replied. The door swung open. “Why are you here rather than outside with the rest of us?”
“I’m not in the mood.”
“For alcohol and sex?” Laughing, Arden fell onto the edge of Nicholas’ bad. “Were you perhaps stabbed in one of the G’s?”
Nicholas cocked a brow.
“The gut or the groin, because I imagine only pain could keep you from a fun evening. The others were thinking about pranking the mortals. They’re extra jumpy this evening.” Arden looked ready to go into great detail about this prank until he realized Nicholas wasn’t listening.
“Hey.” Arden nudged his leg. “Are you actually unwell?”
Nicholas spoke with more bite than intended, “There is no need to panic. I am as healthy as a shade can be. You may tell my father that yourself.”
“I would not tell him a thing if I did not have to.”
“Please, even if my father hadn’t caught you in whatever deal was struck, he would have found some way to convince you to spy on me.”
Arden thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Probably, but why does it matter?”
Arden didn’t understand. Every choice he made led to consequences, good or bad, but they were his own. Nicholas, from the moment of birth, lived under the rule of his father, and when the time came, he put Nicholas to work. Arden’s life would always move in the direction he desires. Nicholas never had a chance. Sometimes, he wondered if having a mother would change that. Would she have put a stop to Laurent?
They were ridiculous questions because they didn’t matter. Nicholas’ mother died after a nasty deal gone wrong. Had a knack for fighting and sometimes got herself into too much trouble. Nicholas was three and couldn’t remember anything about her. She couldn’t protect him. Even if she were alive and cared, even if he somehow escaped Laurent, he would always stand under the looming threat of his condition. Nicholas truly was a tool of both his father and his future as a shade. No path he walked would ever belong entirely to him.
“If you are upset, I would be more than willing to ease your discomforts.” Arden’s hand fell on Nicholas’ thigh. He caught Arden’s eyes and found they were not as enchanting as they had been. They did not hold a winter storm begging to nip at his heels. His lips were not full enough and nose was not upturned enough. Something was off, the sound of his voice, even, had Nicholas shaking his head.
“No, I think you should join the others,” he said, softly and broken. “I will not make for good company this evening.”
Arden didn’t bother him further. Nicholas wouldn’t have known what to say had the fae tried. He simply didn’t want Arden. He wanted another. The coolest of green eyes and hair like golden fire, and found the bed too cold without them. William slept on his side, but if he rolled onto his back, he snored. Nicholas would curl around that muscular form and settle them onto their sides until William’s breathing evened out. He dared to miss it. Finding that hugging a pillow made him more irritable.
Nicholas rolled onto his side, facing the wall. He pressed his knuckles to the stone, half expecting for a reaction, then grew disappointed when there wasn’t one. He hadn’t realized how loud Faerie was until he stepped upon Terra land. Sludge filled lakes, silencing their voices, and timber laid upon charred ground that forgot its songs. The mountains didn’t whisper through the winds. All had been so eerily still. Nicholas awoke in the night, wondering where he would wake, then see nothing changed. Sorrow settled in, a sense of missing a home he hadn’t understood until then.
Faerie had its problems, annoying siblings, an angry betrothed, a distant and cruel father with troublesome expectations, but Faerie had been the only home Nicholas ever knew. Darkmoon, specifically, made him proud, and it was proud of him. The land carried him from place to place and he believed beyond any doubt that, if true trouble knocked, Darkmoon would protect him. In this case, he wanted Darkmoon to soothe him. Hill Castle, his home, knew when he was upset. It’d grow his favorite flowers on the windowsill or knit a blanket of moss to drape over his shoulders. Nothing of that sort happened here. He sat alone in the dark, awake long after the lantern burned out.
The next morning, Nicholas took off alongside half the troop returning to camp. Their journey over the course of a couple of days dragged in ways it hadn’t before. When they came upon camp, he found his attention straying toward the medical bay. However, Duke had been waiting for Nicholas’ arrival.
Duke badgered him with a request from the generals to hear of what transpired. Grumbling under his breath, he shuffled off to give the damn update with curt words and little attention. Amos already sent word containing the events. His information wasn’t any different, nor did he learn anything more about Fearworn, but the generals had learned something.
“Grand Mages from Heign’s Magical Society have stumbled upon a way to close a Shimmer for about ten minutes,” General Wright explained. None missed the expectation in his tone. “We must close Fearworn in and continue to take every citadel we find. When he runs to one, believing he can escape through a Shimmer, we will close it off and that is where you must do your part. Once he realizes what we’ve done, we may not be able to pull this move again.”
“In ten minutes,” Nicholas chortled, recalling Fearworn and his fearsome power. But if they trapped him, if he was startled by the unexpected and surrounded by an army, that could spell his end. “Well, I suggest you get to planning our final move. Do your part and I will do mine.”
He left the tent, berating himself for daring to step toward the medical bay. It would be pathetic to seek William out, so Nicholas begrudgingly went to his tent, where he collapsed on his bed instead. But William’s scent lingered there, twisting like thick vines around his burning limbs. Even like this, the bastard tormented him, lingering at the end of every thought.
As if summoned, William materialized in the tent, his ring glinting upon his finger. For a moment, Nicholas thought it to be a trick, a mirage of his mind, but William was as real as the kiss he gave. Greedy, devouring, a dangerous want that had Nicholas’ lips tingling. Fingers tore into his hair. Teeth bit at his lips. William’s hips met his in infernal movements, reminding him of the dreams William loved to haunt.
“This isn’t how I expected to be greeted,” Nicholas said against William’s mouth. “Did you miss me, my wicked?”
William pushed them onto the bed and tore at Nicholas’ clothes. As much as he wished to be undone, William jerked and trembled. They hardly started, and yet, every brush of his hand was erratic. Grabbing William’s hair, Nicholas yanked William aside. His gaze carried a worrisome dullness.
“You are out of sorts,” Nicholas.
“Don’t feign care. It’s unnecessary in our arrangement.” William caught him in another kiss, tasting of desperation. Nicholas gripped William’s hips, but a discomfort weighed on his shoulders. A suspicion forced him to push William back.
“Unnecessary unless this ends with you stabbing me, and not in the way I desire,” Nicholas declared in the face of William’s ferocity. “What is on your mind?”
William slapped his hold aside, face contorted into indignation that hissed through his teeth. “I am here for sex and if you are not going to give it, then I am leaving.”
The words hurt, somehow, some way. William wasn’t different from anyone else. He came for a purpose. If Nicholas didn’t serve that purpose, he would leave. But, for some reason, he didn’t want to be alone. He wanted William here, even if that meant serving a purpose. Nicholas caught William by the waist.
“Oh no, I never said that,” he hummed, tugging until William fell into his lap.
“Then what are you saying?”
“You should speak your mind,” he said with the same apprehension William now wore.
“Why would I speak my mind to you? Berating me will further entice my anger.”
“I won’t deny I am the last soul to comfort anyone, but I can try. After all,” Nicholas’ thumb rubbed circles along William’s side. “You haven’t spoken of my aversion to enclosed spaces, have you?”
He could have. Nicholas’ kin would find that fear humorous, a weakness one would exploit in the future. Laurent had. If Nicholas pushed too far, he found himself buried, begging, lost and incapable of thought. He couldn’t let others know the truth, so he kept those fears close to his chest. But William learned and said nothing. At least he was different that way, unwilling to stoop so low.
“You will tease me,” William muttered in a voice so unlike him, clipped, worried, lacking any of his natural confidence.
“I will not.”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“I may not, but I will listen.”
William became the definition of discomfort, of hesitation and disbelief. His typically haughty presence faded as his shoulders caved inward and eyes lowered. Nicholas had no confidence in settling William’s worries. He wasn’t sure why he was so insistent in hearing them, either. There was simply something at the back of his mind wanting to hear, to know, to listen. Then William took a shuddering breath, seconds or minutes later. Nicholas hadn’t counted because he got lost in William, exactly as he wanted, but in a way he didn’t expect.
“My brother is here,” William said simply, nothing more, and for once, Nicholas was the one in need of an explanation.
“This troubles you?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve longed to see my family. All these years, I survived by thinking of returning home. Each year that passes, I wonder if they will recognize me, if I will recognize them. Have I lost myself here entirely? I don’t know, I…” William trembled so fiercely one would mistake him for having been lost in a snowstorm. He licked his lips and struggled for breath. Nicholas didn’t know what to say, so he waited and listened.
“I have never wished to desert so badly. I want to run home and pretend none of this ever happened. Lie to myself that I’ve spent the last five years with them, hearing my father telling bad jokes, my brothers bickering over the best hunting spots, and knitting with my mother after a long morning at the hospital. Who would I be had I spent these years with them rather than here?” William’s fingers slipped into Nicholas’ hair, a gentle hold so foreign that he froze. Neither of them were gentle, but like this, they were soft and comforting in a frightening sense.
William twirled Nicholas’ hand around his fingers. His voice became softer than Nicholas had ever heard and it had his heart palpitating, “My father loved to tell me bedtime stories. Even as I got older, he came to my room, and we’d sit together by the fireplace. Sometimes he read to me, other times he made a story up. My brothers were never as fond of tales, so that was a tradition belonging to us. I feel childish about missing it, na?ve.”
Nicholas held William closer. The movement broke William from his trance. Eyes widening, he fell out of Nicholas’ lap, stumbling over his own feet. Nicholas had never missed something more, had never wanted to snatch someone close and never let go. He never saw himself as possessive, and yet, he wanted to keep William by his side.
“This is pointless. I’m leaving.” William went for the exit. Nicholas stood and caught his wrist. One gentle tug and William pivoted, falling against his chest.
“Do all mortals share such stories?” Nicholas observed William’s expression that settled into a curiosity. “Father’s telling their children bedtime stories and missing those at home. Is that common?”
Because Nicholas couldn’t fathom it. He missed Darkmoon, the place, but not his father or his siblings. Quite the opposite. He enjoyed his freedom far from them. Though he wished to feel Darkmoon’s heart beating beneath the sole of his bare feet and to lie in the tall grass, he could go the rest of his life without seeing those he grew up with. They shared few memories of joy together.
Laurent wove tales, bloody and vicious. Nicholas enjoyed them while understanding he could be made a part of those tales if he slipped. His siblings found him a nuisance and often tormented him, although he always replied in kind. He could not imagine a family like William spoke of, but it sounded sweeter than the best kept lie.
“I know that my family is kinder than most, softer, some would say,” William replied.
“How strange.”
“I suppose for you it would be.”
Nicholas’ hand fell on William’s waist. “I believe mortals call it corporal punishment. My father wholeheartedly believes in that. Once I got up to trouble and he broke every bone in my fingers and toes.”
Nicholas chuckled at the memory. William did not. His expression paled. “That is cruel,” he said.
“I was a naughty child.”
“That doesn’t make the punishment less cruel.” William ran a hand down Nicholas’ arm to take the hand on his waist. He ran a gentle finger over every knuckle. “Is that why you are claustrophobic? Was it a result of punishment?”
“Oh, no, I was kidnapped as a child. It led to my engagement with Evera, in fact.”
William’s mouth opened and shut, teeth clicking together. “You must learn to elaborate because you make the most absurd statements.”
“I find kidnapping to be rather self explanatory.”
“Why were you kidnapped? What happened? And how did that lead to an engagement?”
“So curious all of a sudden.” Nicholas had recounted the story frequently while drunk on faerie wine, but here, his tongue weighed heavy. Telling William felt different. This felt different, like he was opening himself up to catastrophe. William knew too much already. He accidentally learned of Nicholas’ fear. Now he wanted to learn about his past.
“Will you feed that curiosity or not?”
Nicholas couldn’t resist the opportunity. “I’ll tell you if you answer my riddle.”
“You are troublesome.” William rolled his eyes. “Go on, then.”
“It can break without being broken, race without running, and skip without skipping.” He didn’t know why he said that. It was the first to come to mind.
The answer came upon William in less than a breath, but he waited to reply, voice hardly above a whisper, “A heart.”
“Always so clever, aren’t you?”
“Maybe you share awful riddles.”
Nicholas scoffed. “How dare you.”
The charming dimples in William’s cheeks made Nicholas admire him all the more.
“I answered your riddle, so tell me,” William said, but the truth caught in Nicholas’ throat. William guided them to the bed. He sat, expecting a tale that should be easy to tell, but the more William admired him, the more Nicholas got lost in his eyes.
“Well?” William hummed.
“Right…” Nicholas dropped on the bed. “Those like my father view shades as weapons, tools to be used. Others, such as my sister, believe the moment our eyes shine, we should be put to death. Then there are those who see shades as an opportunity. I was ten, playing in the forest, when a group of assailants captured me. My powers had recently revealed themselves, so I knew little about how to make use of them. These fae were lowly forest sprites seeking power like my father’s, wanting to become lords of a land. They thought a well-trained shade could accomplish that. I was held in a small, somber cell for six months. Any escape attempts were met with severe punishments. I had no reason to believe my father would come, so I was quite shocked when I was rescued. Alvina Bloodbane, Evera’s mother, found me. I owed her my life. My father owed her for saving me, so she asked him to engage me with her daughter, and the deal was struck.”
“And your claustrophobia started after that experience?” William asked.
“The cell was hardly large enough for a child, and I stopped summoning flames after my captors’ punishments.” His throat went dry. He could hardly swallow, recalling the long days of hallucinations and desperation. “The night can drive one mad.”
“I suppose that explains quite a lot about you.” William smirked when interlocking their fingers. Nicholas offered the connection a confused stare. “What?” William muttered.
“You are holding my hand.”
William let go. “Do you not want me to?”
Nicholas caught him with a vice grip. “I did not say that.”
They gaze at one another. A new tension formed, one Nicholas couldn’t put into words. He found that happening often on late, specifically toward William.
“Why are you holding my hand?” he whispered, somehow fearing the response.
“Because we were discussing matters that caused you emotional harm.” William pursed his lips. “And I stupidly forgot you don’t understand comfort.”
“I do find it odd.”
“Odd or different?”
Nicholas contemplated the sensation of William’s rough skin, calluses on calluses pressed against his palm. He played with William’s fingers, touching thumb to thumb, fingertip to fingertip. William let him. He never said a word, didn’t ask why, then Nicholas held that hand, one that felt so unbearably right in his.
No, this did not feel odd at all. He liked it, the way their hands looked together. How he wanted more, to never let go. Nicholas reached out to curl his fingers in William’s hair. William fell into him, letting his breath caress the skin of Nicholas’ neck.
“Different,” Nicholas replied, heart fluttering, as he took in William’s scent. That damn disinfectant and soap, but also a scent uniquely William.
“Is different wrong?”
“No, I do not believe it is.”
They sat like that, silent, but Nicholas had never been so content, had never wanted so simple a moment to suspend into eternity.