13. Orphium
Chapter 13
Orphium
I raced through the streets of Barrowdeep, the whizz and bang of Gwerenese music growing fainter and fainter as I ran. Away from the bonfire, the night grew colder, quieter. Wasn’t that what they liked to say about graveyards anyway? Quiet as a grave.
But I wasn’t heading there, only somewhere close by. I took a sharp turn off the path, back to the familiar, shadowy shape of the cottage where I’d spent the previous night. And where I would have expected to spend this night, too, except for how very, very angry Leoric was bound to be by the end of it.
Nervous laughter bubbled out of me, soft and squeaking in the dark. Of all the games I’d played in Barrowdeep, I’d enjoyed this one the best. A pity that our tensions couldn’t have come to a head in a more pleasurable way.
Leoric was handsome in a way that made the heart ache, so pretty in that gritty, gloomy manner of his, the poor, lost lordling. If I only had the patience to stretch this out another night longer, what sweet times we could have shared in his bed, on his pillows, under his covers.
But he knew. He’d guessed at least half of it, accusing me of taking from the townsfolk. Far easier to take off running than stand around struggling to explain myself.
Soon, the coins I’d magicked for the people of Barrowdeep would vanish, and as much as they’d forgotten of their little trinkets, they would remember that it was the smiling fae man who’d sweetly convinced them to gamble their memories away.
They would remember my face and my name, someone to blame and to punish. But they wouldn’t remember a thing about buttons and buckles and beads. Which meant, in any case, that it was high time for the smiling fae man to skip town.
“And to skip through walls,” I breathed, leaping toward Leoric’s cabin as I approached its front porch.
And I didn’t land, not until I’d passed through the boarded wooden walls, through the stone and the hay that insulated in between. My foot landed on the floorboards, as light as a shadow.
Or as light as light. One of the more impressive tricks I’d learned — remembered, rather, from the Dawning Court. Where sunlight could penetrate, through the smallest of cracks, through windows and glass? There I could go, too.
What the silly shovel man didn’t know — what I intentionally kept secret — was that there was more to my magic than conjuring birds and blossoms. Neither of Leoric’s doors could have held me, not his old one, and not the new one hastily fashioned in the night.
The only thing truly holding me back from entering his home was the very real threat of having my head smashed in with a shovel.
No risk of that, now that I’d left him stunned and stupefied by the bonfire. It bought me a precious few minutes to search under his bed, exactly where Pennifer had told me to, the poor, innocent sweetheart.
With any luck, someone at the bonfire would sit Leoric down and distract him with a warming, relaxing drink. Perhaps he’d get scooped up by one of those overly friendly Gwerenese men with their dark eyes and their sticky smiles.
What was it about him that enticed me so? He was handsome, yes, the dark eyes and dark hair, the beard that framed those gorgeous, stubborn lips. His body was built from days of hard labor, hands grown strong and rough from digging, from fighting.
“Concentrate,” I muttered to myself, going on all fours.
My hands skimmed along the floorboards as I crawled as close as I could to Leoric’s bed frame. Undignified for a fae to behave like an animal, but it was under the bed, Pennifer said. I patted at the hollow space in the darkness, frowning at nothing.
Light. I needed light. I snapped my fingers, conjuring a wisp of illumination. The littlest sphere of light, no bigger than a marble, a miniature sun. It rested in the palm of my hand, hovering just over my skin. I blew on it gently, watching as it glided under the bed .
There, amid piles of rags, blankets, old clothing — something bulky. Something important. An old chest, only slightly bigger than a loaf of bread. Something for holding small and precious things.
My insides lit up with glee, as excited as I would be to find treasure at the bottom of a dangerous dungeon, gold at the end of a rainbow. I rubbed my hands together, sliding the chest out into the open, licking my lips as I lifted its lid.
“What? No. This can’t be.”
Empty. An empty wooden chest. I scratched at its bottom, at its sides, searching for a false panel. Surely under the lid? I turned it upside down, shaking it. Nothing fell out. The coin. Where was the coin?
“Where is my coin?” I snarled.
I couldn’t control myself. I hurled the chest across the room. It struck the wall, breaking into pieces, splinters and shards falling to the ground. My fingers raked through my hair, nails digging into my scalp so harshly I knew I would soon draw blood. I covered my mouth in frustration, stifling tears, stifling a furious scream.
“Looking for something, Orphium?”
The back of my neck went cold. A draft from the cabin door, so quietly opened and closed again. I never heard his footsteps against the floorboards. I turned my head slowly, part of me still angry, but a larger part of me suddenly afraid.
He fell upon me with terrifying quickness. The head of his shovel clanged against the floor, forgotten. His hands gripped me by the collar of my shirt — so close to wringing my neck. The heat of his breath feathered against my exposed throat. This close, I could hear the rumble of anger in his chest, see the slickness of sweat trickle down his collarbone.
“So it wasn’t enough for you to trick these people,” Leoric muttered. “I gave you a place to sleep. I gave you the same protection I’ve given every soul in Barrowdeep. And here I find you, crawling on a dusty floor like a thieving rat.”
I grinned, languid and loose, despite the quaver of fear in my spine. It was all I had left, my gray humor, my hollow laughter. “At least you’re aware of it. This place could use a little dusting.”
His fingers curled so tightly I thought I could hear my collar rip. He pulled me closer to his face, his eyes blazing like embers. Black as coal, hot as hellfire.
“You’ve taken so much from these people. Give it back. All of it.”
My smile dropped, but I didn’t close my mouth, baring my teeth. “I won it all. Fair and square. Give me the coin, and I’ll return everything I’ve taken from Barrowdeep. I’ll go on my way. You’ll never see me again.”
A moment of hesitation, a faint flicker in his eyes. What was that? The smallest jolt of fear? Was it doubt? Whatever it was, I could sense it in his emotions: Leoric didn’t really want me gone.
To my own ruination, I realized that I didn’t truly want to go, either.
“You don’t deserve the coin,” he hissed. “What magic does it even bring? Perhaps you’ve lied to me about this as well. How lucky can this coin be if it’s brought you down upon my head? Far worse than a curse.”
“Then give me the coin.” My hand trailed up to his chest, fingers walking a fine line up to the base of his throat. He was so angry, and yet he’d left me free use of my hands. “Give me the coin, and you’ll be rid of your curse at last.”
Leoric was strong, I knew, but I needed to remember that he was quick as well. He released his grip on my shirt, clasping a hand around each of my wrists instead, pinning them against the side of the bed.
I waggled my eyebrows. “You learn fast. You certainly learned enough to ward off my illusions so quickly.”
He sneered. “I fought in my father’s pointless war. I was trained to take physical punishment, but I know one or two things about resisting magic, too.”
His hands pushed harder on my wrists, pinning me against the bed frame. I gasped as he shifted closer, his powerful thighs straddling me, his breath ragged, his body blazing like fire.
“That was a cruel trick you played,” he whispered. “Orphium — formerly of the Dawning Court.”
Anger jolted through my body anew, streaking through my blood like lightning. “Formerly?”
Leoric tilted his head, a taunting smile spreading across his lips. This time the cruelty was all his own.
“You were right. I had to learn about all the creatures and races of the world, growing up as my father’s heir. Gods, my lessons could bore me to tears, but the ones about your people fascinated me. So many interesting stories, always to be taken with a grain of salt. But my favorite story, the one that always made me sit at attention, was the one about the Wyrding Queen.”
Venom and fire filled my veins at the sound of her name. I bucked and thrashed against him, too furious to convey with words how deep of an insult it was to throw this, of all things, in my face.
“Fuck her.” I kicked. I spat. I hissed. “What do you even know of the Wyrding Queen?”
Leoric shook his head. “Only that she finds those who were cast out of the fae courts. Only that she gives you the gift of togetherness and family among the outcasts — her own Glooming Court.”
“For a price,” I whispered.
“For a price,” Leoric echoed, serious, somber. No more accusation and anger, only an earnest need to know. He licked his lips, staring into my eyes so intently that I knew he was searching my soul for answers. “Why were you cast out of the Dawning Court?”
I lowered my gaze, burned by the intensity of his stare. “I’d learned to put dreams and memories in bottles. One of the changeling lords — I bottled his nightmares as he slept. I thought I was doing him a favor. The Dawning Court called it theft.”
No response. At least this human knew when to hold his tongue. I found myself grateful for the room to speak, for the chance to tell a story I’d kept to myself for far too long.
“They threw me in a cell. They whipped me. They cast me out. And then the Wyrding Queen found me. Promised me love, family, friendship, if only I would show her how to put things in bottles. And then she put my own memories in a bottle.”
A lump bobbed in Leoric’s throat. The grip of his fingers around my wrists went looser, more relaxed. My stomach sank when I recognized the pity in his eyes.
“Is that why your magic is so brilliant and bright?” he asked, so soft, almost sweet. “All these pretty things you conjure — all the birds and blossoms. Are they all the sights you’ve had to leave behind?”
My shoulders slumped, the strength leaving my body in a single pathetic wheeze. A shovel to the back of the head would have hurt less than Leoric’s words. This lordling was too clever for his own good.
“All the sights and sorrows of my old world,” I breathed. “I can’t remember what they look like, so I try to make my own. All the beauty of summer in the Fae Wilds — I can’t remember. My old friends, my old family? None of it. She took it from me. That was her price.”
Leoric sighed. “And that is why you take from others. Your caravan — all those little bottles. All the dreams and memories.”
“To replace what I’ve lost,” I said. “Hundreds of them by now. Perhaps thousands. Who remembers? Not I. There will never be enough. She left me hollow. Leoric, I — I’ll never be whole.”
My gaze lingered on the far wall, past his ear, past his shoulder. If I looked hard enough, maybe I could pretend I was back home in the Dawning Court, back in the wilds. But it would only be pretend. I would never be welcome there again. We fae liked to think we had the right to be cruel to humanity, but I knew the truth. We were always cruelest to our own people.
Never falter. Never flinch. Never give a single inch.
A motto for my darkest days, something I concocted after the Wyrding Queen seared my mind blank, a reminder that the worst had already happened. I could overcome anything. I could weather all hardships, resist any blow.
And yet a single inch was all it would take for me to end this. Slam my forehead against his, a strike so decisive it would blind and stun him long enough for me to escape.
But where would I go? Since I’d left the Fae Wilds, since I’d been cast out of the Dawning Court — who else had ever guessed? No one had ever come so close to divining the truth of my nature.
In some strange, twisted, bittersweet way, Leoric knew me better than anyone else in the entire world. Perhaps he knew me more than I knew myself.
“If I give you this,” Leoric whispered, his voice rasping, hoarse. “If I create this memory for you — with you — will you give these people back their keepsakes? Will you return your memories?”
The laughter bubbled out of my throat. A ridiculous proposition. Absolutely preposterous. And I told him so, sneering, savoring every word.
“You’re a fool and a half, Leoric Stonesguard. Your lordly upbringing has warped your mind. Nobility, you’re all the same. Fae or human, it matters not, whether it’s the Wyrding Queen, or the changeling princes, or your blasted lord father. ”
And his eyes — Leoric’s eyes, so dark and hazy, like black smoke — they never left mine. Like stars, they twinkled. Like stars, they burned with their majestic heat. But I pressed on.
“So high and mighty. All of you! You think yourselves saviors. You fancy yourself a hero of the people, when all you are is delusional. Hah! That’s it. I may trade in glamor and magic and illusions, but you, Leoric Stonesguard, you — ”
He kissed me. Hard on the mouth, he kissed me, swallowing my tirade, dissolving the violence and fury simmering in my blood. I tasted the salt on the corner of his mouth, a trace of his sweat from the bonfire dance, from running to stop me from ruining this, and us. I tasted the faint, ghostly sugar of ale on his tongue, his blood still warm and humming from a flagon of the tavern’s finest.
I tasted the lordling, the soldier, the gravekeeper, all at once, so many shades of him. All of him: the bitterness of a spurned son, the sour wine of his time at war, the lingering, boyish sweetness of a man too naive and kind and honorable to leave Barrowdeep to its doom.
This was better than many memories combined. This tasted grander, richer than any old tipple out of a bottle, anything I’d finagled from the common folk I’d met on my travels. This flavor — his flavor was ever more succulent, I knew, because this was freely given, whatever this was, whatever it happened to be.
So I drank. Deeply and hungrily, I drank, relishing the grumble and growl of his chest against mine, every glide of his tongue, every ravenous shift of his gorgeous lips. And as much as Leoric gave, somehow I knew that I would never be able to take enough. Never enough to drain him, enough that I would leave him wanting.
Curious. Enticing. Endless. What was this sensation?
Just when I thought the kiss would last forever, he broke away, panting, gasping. I leaned after him, yearning for more. His hand pressed against my chest, stopping me in place. Rest? He really wanted a break? Here? Now?
“Bed,” I whimpered. “Please. Now or never.”
I could barely get to my feet, my knees rendered to jelly by his mouth, his breath, his touch. It didn’t matter. Leoric scooped me up as if I weighed nothing, his body made steely and strong by years of swinging swords in the training yard, by long nights of digging in the earth and burying the undead. Powerful, sinewy muscles bulged wherever my skin touched his, and yet he handled me as if I were as delicate as a flower.
That is, until he tossed me bodily onto his bed, like a maiden he’d claimed on some conquest, a prize discovered and deserved. I panted as I righted myself, trying to figure which way was up, even as I tugged at my clothes, shedding as much as I could to grant him access.
Leoric’s eyes said he could wait no longer, the look of a man who would tear down walls to get what he wanted. I felt myself blushing, the very tips of my ears blistering and hot. All those endless days on the road, making a spectacle of myself. Orphium’s Emporium, a sight for sore eyes, a balm for the beleaguered mind of the common folk. I thrived under the piercing gaze of dozens of eyes, yearned for the attention of hundreds .
But Leoric’s glare was all it took to silence me, transfix me, melt me into a puddle of wax. He pulled off his shirt in a single motion, fluid as a blow from his fist, as graceful as a sword stroke. His skin gleamed with sweat, his muscles gliding like the forged components of some beautiful machine. Leoric undid the buckle on his trousers, then dropped them to the floor.
One look at his cock, and I suddenly had a reason to believe in these human gods. Who else could have sculpted a single man to such divine perfection?
Leoric tugged at his cock, leaving it slick and glistening where he touched it. In his other hand was a little glass bottle. I mustn’t have noticed him reaching for it, but who could blame me? My mind was awhirl, my body afire. And here was this man before me, chiseled as finely as a statue, hard as rock.
Glass clinked as he placed the bottle on the side of the bed, one hand still working at his cock, the other oily and wet. He knelt on the mattress. I gulped.
“I trust you know where this is going,” he said, short and simple and sweet.
Again I swallowed, the sweep of my tongue between my lips betraying my desire. “Inside me,” I replied.
“Very clever. See, Orphium? You can be well behaved when you try.”
I didn’t have time for a prickly retort. Slick fingers probed at my bottom, tracing a slowly shrinking circle around my hole. I gasped at the roughness of his fingers, the silky smoothness of his bottled oil. Leoric lowered his head, his dark locks falling over his eyes, just past his chin, framing his face. The knot holding his hair up must have come undone.
“I am going to fuck you now,” he said.
My cock throbbed with anticipation. This wasn’t a request. It was a statement, a physician’s declaration before the examination begins. And yet I could detect the faintest hint of a question in his voice, the smallest indication that this was Leoric’s way of asking permission. A barbarian wielding his weapon at the gates, meaning to smash his way in, but politely announcing himself first.
“When this is over,” Leoric said, his fingers searching, twisting, “I expect you to surrender all that you’ve taken.”
I gritted my teeth, holding back a delirious moan. “I’ll make no such promise, human.”
Leoric smiled. My skin was on fire. He slipped two fingers inside me, curled them. My head slammed back against the pillows. I bit into the back of my hand.
“Suit yourself,” Leoric said. “Let’s see if you change your mind once I’ve fucked you senseless.”
His fingers came away. The mattress dipped, shifted. Something different — something bigger — nudged at my entrance. I stared up at the ceiling, tears welling in my eyes as Leoric pushed himself inside me, my body remembering the exquisite pain of penetration. Had it been so long since someone had fucked me, or was the lordling truly so well endowed?
Hair brushed against my bottom. Leoric had entered me almost to the base — a sword plunged to the hilt. I nearly screamed, biting my knuckles so hard I almost drew blood .
“Enough of that,” he whispered, pulling my hand away, replacing it with his mouth. Leoric kissed me, tongue sweeping to accompany every thrust, bruising my lips, driving me deeper and deeper into the mattress, slaying me, burying me. A gravekeeper through and through.
I moaned into his mouth. I grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged. He moaned back. My eyes rolled into the back of my head. I wanted to praise him, tease him, spur him on. He’d started so rough, so brutish, his motions unsteady and clumsy. Perhaps he was too afraid to hurt me.
But his body remembered quickly enough, hips ploughing masterfully, thighs moving as if they’d been trained and sculpted for the very purpose of taking me to impossible heights, to burrowing me in the warmth and heat of his bed, his body, his steam and sweat.
And the more Leoric remembered, the more I moaned and squealed and writhed back, matching his effort in equal measure. Where had he learned to do this, between the training and the soldiering and suffering his father’s bitterness? The perfection of every stroke, the force and depth of it almost practiced and disciplined.
And Leoric remembered, railed into me and against me, ravished. And I may never remember my life at the Dawning Court, but perhaps it was just as well to forget, to become lost in the damp, tangled forest of his hair, the scorch of his breath and his body, the smell of his musk, of freshly turned earth. Perhaps I could replace all I’d lost, relinquish the past. Make memories anew.
I drew my fingers down the powerful muscles of his back, my nails digging deep, leaving my mark on his skin. Leoric groaned, pulled back, his eyes hazy and dark as they burned into mine.
“Won’t last much longer,” he said, breath stilted.
“Me neither,” I replied, my hand flat against his chest, the rippling muscles in his stomach, more to trace the line of his body than to stop him from claiming what was rightfully his.
Leoric slammed into me, his thrusts growing faster, more desperate. His lips drew back, his teeth clenching as he fought to come back from the brink of release.
“Surrender,” he whispered, eyes blazing, sweat dripping down his chin. “Give in.”
I threw my head back, the ecstasy pouring out of me in a fit of breathless laughter. “Never.”
A battle of wits and will between two stubborn fools. His hips slammed against me one final time, his hand clamping over my mouth when he saw I was about to scream. Leoric quivered and bucked, thick streams of his essence firing into the depths of me, my own seed spurting in slashes across my belly, across his chest, joining a mess of his sweat and mine.
He fell against me, panting, gasping. I stared at the ceiling, listening to him mutter and whimper against my throat, the coarseness of his beard tickling, hurting, reminding me of his delectable roughness.
No winners in this game. He still had the coin. I still had the mementos and memories.
“Surrender,” he sputtered feebly, threatening me with another half hearted stroke.
I pulled him tight against my chest, memorizing the configurations of taut muscle under his skin, committing the shape of his cock inside me to a special place in my mind.
Smiling at the ceiling, at the sky full of stars that awaited beyond the rafters, I replied.
“Never.”