Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Ky grumbles at the empty pantry and the disordered parlour. He snipes about the empty woodpile and despairs over the dead garden. In the morning, he sweeps up the scattered plum blossoms on the kitchen floor, then draws Ethram a hot bath and tends to his wounds.
The gashes do not scar. Ky does not let them.
At night, he holds Ethram close in the dark so Ethram will not be woken by chills or terrors.
He weathers a scolding from the Leightons, and from Parl, and from Etta and Marc at the markets, and the first time Ethram sinks into his arms on the sofa again, Ky sighs like the rushes in the river when the wind stirs.
Ethram buries his face in the scent of dry rushes and river water and plum blossoms. He kisses Ky’s throat, and Ky makes a sound of contentment, deep in his chest.
“It was insufferable without you,” says Ethram, nosing up along his jaw. “I won’t survive it again.”
“You barely survived it this time,” he says darkly. “You had half a jar of persimmon jam left and not much else. However did you survive before I found you?”
Ethram rests his head in the crook of Ky’s neck. His hair is cool against Ethram’s cheek. “I got by. And that is not what I meant. I could persist without you, maybe, but everything good would fade away and there would be no point to anything.”
The fire is burning low, but neither of them move. Outside, rain patters against the window. A light spring storm, come to shake the blossoms from the trees.
“There is always a point in living, my love,” Ky says. “If I am ever gone again, be sheltered by those around you. Go to your friends. Go to your Casca at the Gardens, if you must.”
“Are they not your Gardens?”
He laughs. “Once, maybe. But I have a different garden now.” He combs his nails through Ethram’s hair, then tugs. “One that has been cruelly neglected in my absence, I might add.”
“It was winter,” Ethram mutters. “It’d have been mud no matter what I did.”
“Troublesome man.”
Ethram hides a smile against Ky’s neck. “Wretched creature.”
They stay like that as the fire smoulders and the light flickers gold against the rug. Ky rubs lightly at the back of Ethram’s neck, a soothing touch.
“There are still tangles,” he says. “I am still missing from where I should be, and can think of no way to reclaim my mantle and duties without leaving here.” He drags a hand down Ethram’s back.
The sharp pinch of claws are there on the way down, and gone on the way back, fingers blunt and human once more.
“I intend to stay, my heart. I would stay with you always.”
“Then stay,” he says. “The tangles will come loose in time.”
He senses Ky’s smile, and then Ky is turning his head to capture Ethram’s mouth. His lips are soft, and his tongue is all warmth and sweetness, and for now, Ky fills Ethram’s every thought and breath.
For now, and for tonight, and for every night after, Ethram thinks. Promises. Prays.