Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
L eofric was, at least, partially interested in him. Of this Cosmo was certain. The heat in the man’s eyes, masked with anger—or, perhaps, laced with it—was undeniable. It had been a long time since Cosmo had sparred verbally with someone like Leofric, someone who didn’t bend immediately to Cosmo’s wit, or beauty, or the fact that he was a god. There was something about him, something about the stern set to his jaw, his outward imperviousness to Cosmo’s advances, that he found alluring.
Cosmo would bed anyone willing, had sampled all manner of partners in his years upon the earth. Though the occasional craving would strike him, he’d never considered one flavor of lovemaking to be head and shoulders above the others—though some were, perhaps, literally. Each had their merits. And right now, Cosmo was contemplating the merits of long dark hair wrapped around his fingers and full scowling lips wrapped around his cock. He eyed Leofric up and down, watching as the man saluted his prince, every muscle poised, drawn taut as a bowstring, and wondered if he’d ever lain with a man before. Unfortunately, these tantalizing mental images were knocked loose by his brother, just as they had been last night.
Cosmo grimaced. He couldn’t say he’d loved falling asleep to the sound of his brother fucking, but perhaps it was safer that way. It had cooled his ardor, he who had previously thought his ardor uncoolable, and allowed him to get some sleep.
Which was good, because this morning was sure to be painful, and difficult because now, Auro was summoning him to discuss the impossible.
Servants brought them breakfast on trays while Auro sat opposite him, and suddenly Cosmo was back in the lazy summer mornings of his youth, sitting with Auro and Ozias playing tiles or dice, listening to Cedras reading in his soothing voice. He took a stuttering breath, then a longer, steadier one in attempt to get a grip on himself. Sweet memories were lovely, but they held no power to change the future.
Auro had brought a massive book to sit on the floor between them, called the Sun Queen’s Compendium of Tales. To hear Auro tell it, the book had been written by their mother. “I don’t understand,” said Cosmo, brushing his fingers over the leather of the cover. Just as Auro said, there was a faint etching in the surface of it, one of her emblems. But anyone could have scratched a few lines into the cover of a book. It didn’t prove anything, not really.
“This story says nothing about you staying awake, beyond spring,” said Cosmo, after reading the tale for the third time. “How did you manage that?”
“I’m still not entirely sure,” Auro admitted, “I returned to the temple, just like always, but instead of turning to stone I—I dreamed.”
Cosmo frowned. He obviously had no idea of his brothers’ typical experiences, but he never dreamed, between summers. He simply went to sleep at the end of summer, and woke at the start of the next one. For all he knew, his cursed rest could be the span of a blink, or a heartbeat, or a century. From the way Auro spoke, Cosmo imagined his experience had been much the same. “You dreamed? Of what?”
“Of mother,” said Auro, his voice small and raw.
Cosmo twisted his fingers in his lap. Long ago, if Auro was hurting, Cosmo wouldn’t have hesitated to pull him into a hug, to comfort him. He was so young, and sweet, and soft. Or, he had been. Cosmo had to remind himself he no longer knew Auro. They’d been apart far longer than they’d ever been together as children. Perhaps it would be too familiar, too forward after the distance of four centuries.
Before he could decide, the moment had passed, and Auro had pulled himself together. He sat a bit straighter as he continued the story. “It was like she’d left me a message. An echo, almost. I think she’d expected us to follow her clues long before this—it was like she had…faded, somehow.”
“Faded?”
“The form she took. She was like a specter. I couldn’t even understand everything she was saying, like the words had been eroded, by time.”
“Even so,” said Cosmo, thinking. “That is some serious magic.”
“Indeed,” said Auro. “I hadn’t known she knew anything of the arcane arts.”
“Nor I,” said Cosmo. “But she must have, that’s plain. Because here you sit.”
“Here I sit,” Auro agreed.
Cosmo pulled the book toward himself, his mind racing as the considered the implications of what Auro was saying. “We didn’t know her at all,” he said at last.
“What?”
“She had this—this skill, this power, and she still let father curse us. She still let…” She still let Ozias die. His mother had no love for Ozias, and she’d not gone to any trouble to conceal that fact from the five of them as boys. Even so, how could she have stood aside and let him be killed? How could she have stood aside and let her sons be cursed? Cosmo had never considered the idea that she might have had a choice. Empress Soli had been dead by the time Cosmo had woken that first summer after they’d been cursed, and he had mourned her. Now though…if what Auro said was true, she’d had a choice. Something twisted in his gut, like he was losing his family all over again, grief crashing over him in fresh, violent waves.
“She did all she could,” Auro protested.
“Oh please,” said Cosmo. “How could you possibly know that?”
“I know her,” said Auro. “I know she didn’t wish to abandon?—”
Cosmo stood, shaking his head. “Nothing has changed in four hundred years,” he said angrily. Auro had always been their mother’s favorite, he though peevishly, her sweet baby. “Why did she leave clues for you alone? Why not our eldest brother? Or why not—anyone, really? Why you? ” Why not me? He couldn’t help but wonder, but he didn’t say it aloud.
“I don’t know,” said Auro. He got to his feet as well. “’it had to be me,’ she said, in her echo.”
“Naturally,” said Cosmo, in harsh, acid tones. He scoffed. “Her precious little Apricot.”
“Hey,” said Alexios, who had held his tongue for much of this conversation. “Don’t?—”
“Alexios, please,” said Auro, holding up a hand. “This between my brother and myself.”
Alexios showed some signs of wanting to argue, and possibly wanting to toss Cosmo out onto his ass as well. Cosmo wouldn’t have objected much; this was already proving to be a colossal waste of time, dredging up the past when they’d all moved on. “But?—”
“ Alexios. ”
It was to his paramour that Auro spoke, but Cosmo was the one who startled. Auro was different now. Very different. The boy Cosmo had grown up with could have no more chastised a prince than he could have swallowed the sun whole. “You’ve changed,” Cosmo said.
Auro glared at him. Actually glared. “Yes,” he said, voice hard. “And a good thing. Four hundred years was long enough for us all to act like children, I think.”
Abashed, Cosmo returned to the carpet beside the hearth, standing with his arms crossed across his chest. “Alright,” he said. “Alright. So—why do we think you’re awake?”
“I had a notion,” said Auro. “Based upon the tale in the book, it’s clear mother wanted us to work together. The lesson in the parable is that the brothers could only stop the curse if they helped each other , not themselves.”
“And?”
“And…” said Auro, “I…did. I did my part. I retrieved Cedras’s power—proving I care more about our family than I do about myself.” Here he glared again. “A foreign concept to some?—”
It was Cosmo’s turn to scowl. “Enough,” he snapped. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
Auro raised his hands in acquiescence. “My point is that we can hardly collaborate on a solution if we can never speak. So, this—” he gestured at himself “—makes sense.”
“I suppose it does,” Cosmo allowed. “But why did you lose your grace?”
“I don’t think I did,” Auro said, pacing. “I think…we all have a finite amount of power, and I have enough to perform my duties in spring time. That’s all I have, until we break the curse.”
Cosmo considered this. “Perhaps,” he said. “But what made you search for Cedras’s grace?” Instead of mine, he didn’t say. He and Auro had always been close as boys. To Cosmo, Cedras had always seemed aloof, apart from the rest of them. He was a few years older to be sure, but it was more than that. Cedras always had more time for his studies than he ever had for his brothers.
“I think I had to,” said Auro. “We can only free our counterpart.”
A cold, slimy weight settled in Cosmo’s stomach at Auro’s words. He cannot mean what I think he means. “Our counterpart?”
“Yes,” said Auro, eager now, oblivious to Cosmo’s mounting dread. “So, you would have to?—”
“No.”
“What?”
“Auro, please, forgive me. I cannot do this.”
“You said you’d hear me out!”
“I did say that. And now I have.” Cosmo fought to keep his body still. His heart pounded in his chest and all his instincts were screaming at him to flee. “And now I am telling you, I cannot do this.”
“Why?” Asked Auro. “Why not?”
“My counterpart…”
“Would be Kryos, yes.”
“And that would mean I am his, correct? My only chance of being cured rests in his hands?”
“I think so?—”
Cosmo lurched past Auro, his nervous energy too much to contain. “No.”
“Cosmo, I know it will be difficult to mend fences between us…”
“ Difficult?” Cosmo spat. “Impossible.”
Auro grabbed his arm. “Just explain, Cosmo,” he said. “What is it?”
“Based upon what you’ve learned, I have to locate Kryos’s grace, and restore him to full power. And he is the one who has to locate mine?”
“Yes,” said Auro. “At least, I think so.”
“He won’t do it.”
“Of course, he will!”
Cosmo shook his head violently. “He won’t.”
“What makes you so sure?”
Cosmo took a skittering step away, and shook his head. “I am glad to have seen you, little brother. And I hope you’ll still be awake next summer, too. But I want no part in this.” Cosmo turned and strode for the door, and a wine cup shattered against the wall a handsbreadth from his head.
“How could you?” Auro spat.
Cosmo whirled around, shocked at Auro’s impassioned outburst, and furious at him in equal measures. “How could I?” he flared. He could feel the sparks of his grace bursting across his skin, and the hearth gave an answering roar, whooshing tongues of flame straight up and out into the room. They singed the rug before retreating back into the fireplace as Cosmo tried to regain his composure. “How could I? How could you? ”
“What?”
“We were cursed for a reason , Auro,” said Cosmo. “Ozias?—”
“Ozias’s death was an accident,” said Auro. “Don’t you think we’ve suffered enough? Don’t you think?—”
“It wasn’t.”
“It—it what?”
“Ozias’s death was not an accident.” Even all these years later, he felt ill to think of it. The battlefield was frozen, a wasteland of ice and biting wind. Both he and Ozias had been bundled in dark, hooded cloaks. Don’t worry, Ozias had told him, through chattering teeth. I’ll convince him to see reason. They’d watched Kryos from afar, his silhouette huge and broad, casting terrible shadows across the place that would become his killing field. Cosmo had crouched in the shadows, like a coward, hoping Ozias and his honey-tongue would save him, hoping he’d not have to face Kryos himself. He’d known, even then, defeating Kryos was impossible. His only hope of victory in their duel would be if Ozias could convince Kryos to go easy on him, so Cosmo had watched, and prayed. Let it work, he remembered thinking. I will surrender, if he lets me.
Ozias must have grabbed Kryos’s arm, or tapped his shoulder, at that distance it had been hard to make out. Kryos turned with a howl of rage and a white light burst so cold and so terrible that it knocked Cosmo off his feet.
When he’d regained them, Cosmo had crept out onto the field, terrified what he would find. “Kryos wanted to kill me.” He said to Auro now. “He thought it was me, sneaking up on him, and he turned around?—”
Auro shook his head. “No,” he said. “There’s no way.”
“I watched it happen,” said Cosmo. “And all that remained of Ozias was a frozen corpse.” He recalled how Ozias had looked almost…beautiful. Like his body had been covered head to toe in glittering diamonds. When Cosmo had reached out to touch his outstretched hand, Ozias had shattered, countless pieces of frozen flesh bursting from his bones, with enough force to cover Cosmo’s entire face in scratches. Ozias’s brittle, frozen skeleton had crumbled to the ground right before Cosmo’s eyes.
“When I found him,” said Auro, his eyes narrow and his voice suspicious, “His bones appeared burned and bleached. As if by a mighty sun.”
The accusation shouldn’t have stung after four hundred years, but it still did. In his heart, Cosmo turned away from it. Outside himself, he said, “I couldn’t leave him like that.” His throat tightened. “So…cold.”
Auro’s face softened, and he reached for Cosmo’s arm. “I didn’t?—”
“Right, of course,” said Cosmo, shaking off his touch. It was just like it was then . Nothing had changed. “I tell you what I saw Kryos do with my own two eyes, and you won’t believe it. Someone claims I burned Ozias alive and suddenly their word is good as gold.”
“Cosmo—”
“ Forget it. ” It was over, done with. Auro wanted them all to forgive each other, but how could they? Forgiveness came from trust, and any they might once have shared had long since burned away. “It doesn’t matter what you believe,” he said. “What matters is that I know what I saw, and I’ll restore Kryos’s grace over my dead body. And he’d tell you the same, I’m certain. Only it would be my dead body either way.”
Auro puzzled over that for a moment, before shaking his head, like the unpleasant thoughts were flies buzzing about his ears. “Cosmo, wait,” he said, after a moment. “What if it truly was an accident?”
Cosmo laughed full in his face. “When did you ever know Kryos to miss what he aimed at?”
“Never,” Auro agreed. “Never, don’t you see? A blow that would have killed Ozias would not have killed you.”
“What?”
“Ozias had godsblood, but he did not have any of our father’s grace. He could easily have been killed by a blow that would only have knocked you off your feet.”
Cosmo frowned. “No, but…” he trailed away, wondering.
Auro latched onto his hesitation. “It could have been an accident,” said Auro, the look in his eyes desperate. It was plain he didn’t want to think his brothers capable of murder, even after all of these years. “It could have.”
“Perhaps,” Cosmo allowed.
“I believe it,” said Auro softly, but firmly. He took Cosmo’s hand. “Like I believe you. I believe you wouldn’t have killed any of us, even Kryos. Never.”
“I wouldn’t,” said Cosmo. His eyes stung, and suddenly he was a boy of twenty again, pleading and begging with their father to believe him, pounding on the locked door of a basement cell. He would never, ever have done that. How could he not see?
“I know,” said Auro. “I know. Just like I know Kryos wouldn’t either.”
Cosmo jerked his hand away. “Listen?—”
“Believe me,” said Auro. “Because I believe you. ”
Cosmo looked into his brother’s eyes, clinging to Auro’s faith like a drowning man might cling to a lifeline. After so long, someone believed him. Even if it was just Auro, who believed the best in people so easily. For a heartbeat Cosmo felt it might be worth dying, just to have someone look at him like Auro was looking at him now. He wanted to think Auro could be right, but what if he wasn’t? It was easy for Auro to have faith. It always had been. Besides, if he were mistaken, Cosmo would be the only one in real danger. Was he willing to take that gamble?
Leofric stared through the gauzy curtains at Cosmo’s silhouette. He stood on the balcony, backlit by the afternoon sun, in much the same position Leofric had found him that morning. After his dramatic pronouncement, he’d excused himself for some air.
“Could he be lying?” Alexios asked Auro now, in a low voice.
Auro looked troubled. “I don’t think so.”
“What do you remember?”
“The day of Kryos and Cosmo’s duel, the day we…” he trailed away, lost in some painful memory. “I had sent Ozias to try to stop them. I didn’t hear any word from him—or any of them—for three days, so I went to the spot myself. All that remained was a crater of destruction in the clearing, and Ozias’s bones. It looked as though he’d been caught between the two of them, but…”
“Even if what Cosmo is saying is true,” said Alexios. “It doesn’t change anything.”
“How can you say that?” Asked Auro.
Alexios touched his arm. “I only meant, Ozias’s death was still a tragic accident.”
“That’s so,” Auro allowed, looking out onto the balcony at the shadow of his brother.
Leofric held his tongue. Auro might be willing to believe the best in his brother, but to Leofric it seemed as though he were being naive. He wanted to believe, to see the good in Cosmo, but wanting to believe couldn’t make something true that wasn’t. To him, it was plain that Cosmo was a selfish coward, and Leofric could never trust a coward. He knew all too well how someone so selfish could easily destroy a family, without even meaning to do so. Even if things had played out the way Cosmo said, he’d still sent his vulnerable brother Ozias to confront the god of winter in his stead, he’d still hidden, valuing his own skin over his brother’s.
They were interrupted by a knock at the door. With an impatient nod, His Highness instructed Leofric to see who was on the other side. One of the porters had come with a message. “His and Her Grace have summoned His Royal Highness to their audience chamber,” she said. “At once.”
“I must dress,” said Alexios. “Tell my royal parents I will attend them presently.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” The porter bowed and made her exit.
Auro hurried to the wardrobe to select a toga for Alexios, and Leofric waited for His Highness to ready himself. When he was dressed, with a crown upon his head, Leofric fell in step behind him and they set off down the airy corridor toward the marble steps leading down to the atrium of the royal villa.
“What do you make of this?” Alexios asked Leofric.
“The summons?”
“No,” said Alexios. He looked over his shoulder, as though to be certain they were alone in the hallway. “ Cosmo. ”
“I’m not certain, Your Highness,” said Leofric. “I can’t say I know the man.”
Alexios held out a hand, stopping Leofric in his tracks. “Leofric,” he said. “I trust your counsel. Speak.”
Leofric sighed. “I don’t know him,” he repeated, “But what I have seen…I can’t say I like it, Your Highness. He is…very different from his brother.”
Alexios smiled, as he always did when speaking of Auro. “Indeed,” he said. “I hadn’t known it was possible for two brothers to be so different.”
Leofric knew Alexios was an only child. “Aye,” he said. “It can be surprising, but two siblings raised in the same house never have identical experiences. It can be as if they led two entirely different childhoods.”
“You speak from experience,” said Alexios. It was not a question.
Leofric dipped his head. “Apologies, Your Highness.”
“What? Why?”
“I never meant to carry my home life into my work.”
“It’s alright, Leofric,” said Alexios, puzzled. “I like to think we’re friends.”
“I just…” Leofric trailed away. “I like to keep my private life private, if it please Your Highness.”
Alexios nodded. “Alright, Leofric.” He sounded tired. “I wonder what my royal parents want today.”
“Let us hurry, and find out.” Leofric was eager to change the subject. When he swore his oath of office, he had sworn to put any life outside his duty aside. To allow it to bleed over would be to compromise his focus, and his focus currently felt tenuous enough.
When they arrived at the audience chamber, Leofric bowed to the king and queen and took his place off to the side, scanning the room and its points of egress for any and all threats. A servant tended the fire, and another brought in a tray laden with wine, cups, cheese, and bread. He knew neither of their names, but recognized their faces. One of the first things he’d done upon accepting his position at the royal villa was to familiarize himself with the staff. He made a point to watch every face, and learn any new ones that might be allowed in the royal presence. You are an excellent soldier, Imperator Hamate had told him, but a guard is not a soldier. He was right. Of course, Leofric’s skill at arms was just as necessary in his current position, but this business of standing and watching could not be more different than his life with the army.
He must always be alert, but never intrusive. Poised for battle, but never make those around him worry. He must fade, fade into the background like a vase or a statue, but never allow his mind to wander. He must watch everything, but never see . He must hear all, but never listen . And he must never allow his skills to go to rust, either. Never grow lax, or soft. Never allow anything to compromise his sworn oath. There was a special, still place inside his mind, deep within himself, a well of endless patience and razor focus that he must always, always be able to access.
He drew from that well now, standing still, his face passive, as Alexios conferred with the king and queen. It helped to pick something upon which to focus, a point on the wall or a person’s face, a painting. Sometimes a mental image would do it, but for some reason his mind kept filling with sparks, fire, and freckles. Leofric decided instead to focus upon King Nelios. Nelios was of a height with Leofric, though perhaps two decades older. He was broad shouldered, with dark hair that came to a wicked widow’s peak between his severe brows. King Nelios hailed from the kingdom of Sokol, just as Leofric did, and it was that connection he had to thank for this posting. Nelios had once been the imperator of the Sokolian army, before he had been dispatched to seal the Papian alliance with his marriage to its queen.
“A rider came with the sunrise,” he was saying to his son now. “Her Grace Queen Dafina should be arriving in three days.”
“Excellent,” said Alexios, and Leofric noted that he sounded somewhat sincere. He and Queen Dafina had grand plans, hoping to combine their two kingdoms into one larger unified territory. Leofric felt a pang for the prince, and Auro too. Like his father did before him, Alexios planned to cement this great alliance with a marriage. His Highness had done his best to forestall the wedding, but time was running out. If they hoped to combine the kingdom of Neossós and the kingdom of Papia, he would have to face the proverbial music soon enough. The Queen’s arrival could only mean that day was approaching even faster.
Alexios had walked into the audience with his back straight and his head high, but when he left some half hour later, his shoulders were slumped as if a great weight had been slung across them. “Your Highness…” he said awkwardly. This had never been his strong suit, but he knew Alexios well enough by now to know he needed some comfort.
“We must begin preparations for Her Grace’s arrival immediately,” said Alexios abruptly.
“Of course, Your Highness,” said Leofric. Leofric would have little and less to do with the preparations, but he still said, “How may I be of service?”
Alexios smiled thinly. “Unfortunately, preparations for feasts and frolics fall squarely under my domain, so you can rest easy knowing you won’t have to worry about flowers or decorations or musicians.”
“And I appreciate that, Your Highness,” said Leofric.
When they arrived back at Alexios’s apartments, they found them empty. Alexios found a note on his work table, weighed down by a piece of marble. It was a delicately carved nose, broken off a bust. Alexios smiled faintly as he read the note. “Auro and his brother are touring the grounds,” said Alexios. “They’ll return by evening meal.”
“Very good, Your Highness,” said Leofric. He swept Alexios’s chambers and then decided perhaps the young man would like some privacy, so he took a place to stand guard just outside his door.