Chapter Seventeen Cat #2
‘I don’t fantasize over murdering a child.’
‘Not any child,’ Elician mutters. ‘Just this one.’
Gillage was the catalyst for Elician and Lio’s torture.
He slit Lio’s throat. He sent a Reaper army to Altas.
Elician will never forgive him. Cat knows this all too well.
And yet. I do not want to murder my own brother.
He lets the thought settle, lets it take root in his soul.
He examines it from all sides and does not find any hidden vaults of concern.
He has never yearned for another’s death, and even here and now, his heart aches at the thought of taking his sword and running it through the chest of a flop-haired boy too foolish to know he is being manipulated by every adult who condescends to pay him the attention their mother refused to provide.
‘Why did your parents not have more children?’ he asks Elician instead of confronting that bitter truth out loud. He is in no mood for an argument, and frankly he doubts Elician yearns for such either.
For his part, Elician accepts the transition without complaint. He replies, ‘My mother couldn’t have any other children after me.’
‘You could have healed her.’
‘You know I couldn’t have. And even if we’d wanted to hide it, enough people in the palace knew she was unable to conceive by the time I knew what I was doing, and sudden conception…would have been noticed. In any case, she never asked.’
Cat frowns. He looks down at Marina’s journal, its unassuming exterior at odds with its remarkable interior.
There is much he has not read yet. But he knows the answer to this problem even without reading Marina’s words.
Fen was right. The soldiers had already made their feelings clear as well.
‘No one in Alelune will want our help.’ Elician nods in agreement.
He doesn’t try to deny the hypocrisy of what they are doing.
Something unpleasant swirls about Cat’s chest, tight and suffocating.
He rests his hand over his sternum. ‘If you didn’t help your mother, why are you willing to help them – an enemy nation? ’
‘Because I feared my mother’s disgust more than I fear theirs,’ Elician replies.
‘I don’t want to force anyone to do anything they don’t want to, but I can see no way around this.
Your people are dying now, and who knows what Gillage will do next.
Even if the plague had not happened – he was willing to slaughter Altas.
And for what? What benefit could that possibly have given him?
Control over the damn river? No…your people, my people, the Exalted on either side of the river – none of us deserve life with him ruling over half the continent.
This war, this bloodshed, this plague…it all needs to end. ’
Marina could have stayed queen. She could have deposed her sister and reigned eternally. The judgement against Reapers never would have started. The Exalted of Alelune never would have been terrorized and caged. She had not retaken the throne. She had not fought. She had walked away.
He could have killed Gillage plenty of times in the past. But even with all the taunts and jeers, even with the calculated bursts of violence at the hands of Gillage’s head of guard, Nured, Cat had never done it. ‘But does it need to end with death?’ he asks.
‘Marina said once that my kindness would lead to me having a short reign,’ Elician replies, the closest that he has come to acknowledging the real repercussions of what this plague might mean for him.
‘My kindness is not what I will be remembered by,’ Cat thinks out loud.
‘No? What will you be remembered by, Stello Alest of Alelune?’
‘Loyalty,’ he replies. ‘If I were to be remembered for anything…I believe it would be that.’ He wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for that.
He wouldn’t be riding back to the place that haunts his nightmares.
He wouldn’t have bound Elician in marriage on the hope of a promise that he would not be alone to face this burden now and in the future.
He would not, in the stark light of day, be dreading the thought of killing a boy who had caused the world so much pain.
For even if that boy deserves punishment, he is still Cat’s brother.
‘Yes,’ Elician says. ‘Yes, I can see that.’
‘May I ask you something?’
‘You don’t have to ask for that.’
And yet, it feels necessary to ask anyway. Polite. A way to diminish the impact of a strike before it lands. ‘What would you do if you weren’t king?’
Elician’s cheek twitches. ‘I don’t know,’ he replies.
‘It will happen eventually. Me stepping away from the throne. Sooner rather than later, I suppose. The people won’t forgive me for this plague.
And when I abdicate to make it all right again…
I’ll give it to Adalei. She has worked for it her whole life… she deserves it.’
‘When that day happens, what will we do with ourselves then?’
‘We?’
‘Are we not a we?’ They have made so many decisions together lately that to stop just because Elician no longer bears a crown seems counterproductive at best. Cat does not know where they will be in thirty years, he doesn’t even know if he will be successful here and now to gain a crown of his own and truly put to rest all that haunts them, but he knows that now, in this moment, he cannot imagine not wanting to stand at Elician’s side and help him with whatever comes next.
Elician nods slowly, unconsciously, like he didn’t mean to give a response in the first place but his body has done it anyway. He twists to look at Cat, smiling faintly. ‘For as long as you want to,’ he offers,
‘we can be a “we”.’
‘What will we do then?’
‘Anything you desire,’ Elician suggests.
‘And anything you desire?’
‘If you like. If we do this right though…you may still be a king. And…would you still want me at your side if I were not your equal?’
‘It isn’t your crown that makes you my equal, Elician,’ Cat says.
‘It is you. I want you with me…for as long as you wish to be at my side.’ His stomach flutters at the repetition, but his husband’s cheeks blush.
And it is so beautiful a sight that Cat cannot bring himself to feel ashamed at the forthright nature of his claim.
If anything, it only makes him wish to say more than he has ever dared to say before.
They ride deep into Alelune, well past sunset.
Wide, cleared patches of land appear, pockmarking the landscape every so often as obvious areas for a large group to camp or rest. The trees on either side of the road grow tightly packed together, limiting alternative options for rest. There are no places to hide, and few places cosy enough for a good night’s sleep.
It is either the pre-cleared patches of land… or the road.
They choose a clearing, guiding their horses as far back as they possibly can.
Then, they work together to prepare for the night.
They get food and water for themselves, collect sticks and dig a hole in the ground to build a fire low enough to not be seen from too far away.
As Elician kneels at their makeshift pit, Cat leans close to his ear.
Daring. Tempting. Far braver than he had ever guessed himself capable.
‘Did you ever learn Fen’s trick?’ he asks.
‘I understand the principle of it,’ his husband replies. ‘I’ve never tried it.’ Cat traces one hand along Elician’s arm, enjoying the subtle shivers that spawn at his touch. His palm rests at the back of Elician’s hand. He wishes he had removed his glove first. He will later.
Gently, he slides his fingertips into the gap between Elician’s fingers.
He twists their hands above the collection of dead flora.
Leaning in, his lips close enough to caress Elician’s ear, he whispers instructions.
Elician’s eyes flutter shut. ‘Can you feel them?’ Cat asks.
‘The shape of the sticks…the structure of them? The atoms and molecules that make them whole?’
‘Yes,’ he breathes back in turn. Even in the dark, Cat imagines Elician’s cheeks flushing. Warmth radiates from his body as if the sun itself resides beneath Elician’s breast. Elician’s tongue flicks out, licking his lips.
‘Concentrate.’ Lunae slips from Cat’s mouth now.
It is a smoother language, softer, sweeter.
For all of Fen’s insistence that Soleben is superior, the tone and tenor of Lunae has always been one of water flowing precisely in the direction that it needs to flow and doing so with no faults or breaks or hesitations.
‘Feel every part of their existence…everything to keep them steady and here in this world.’
‘Yes,’ Elician replies, in Lunae as well, his charming accent coiling its way through Cat’s bloodstream. He could listen to Elician speak for hours.
‘Ignite it,’ Cat murmurs. ‘Make all of the atoms come alive.’ Elician’s fingers close, trapping Cat’s hand in place.
Fire sparks on the leaves. It spreads to the twigs, growing brighter and hotter in seconds.
‘Well done,’ Cat praises. ‘Very well done.’ He shifts, preparing to slip away, but Elician opens his eyes.
He turns, pulling Cat’s body around until his other hand cradles Cat’s face, and then Elician presses his lips to Cat’s in the first proper kiss they have ever shared.
It is what Cat dreamed of on their wedding night.
Soft, lingering, warm. Cat’s heart beats faster.
He leans forward, deepening the contact.
Dizzy and breathless all at once. Elician’s hand is at his cheek.
His fingers threading through his hair. Cat gasps, moans, surprising himself with a sound he has never made before in his life.
Elician pulls back. Just a little. Just enough.
His gorgeous brown eyes are wide, staring at Cat with such a look of perplexed confusion and wonder.
‘I love you,’ Cat whispers into the space between them, meaning it. Meaning every word.