14. Leoric
Chapter 14
Leoric
I nestled into a stack of pillows propped up against the headboard, recovering from the festivities. Somewhere in the night the pipes and zithers of the Gwerenese played on.
Here, on my bed, in my cabin, Orphium played with me instead. His head rested between my shoulder and my chest, turning to sneak glances of my face when he grew too tired of teasing his fingers along my chest, my nipples, my cock. I was still half hard, ready to ravage all over again if Orphium made the wrong move. Or the right move, as it were.
“You fuck well,” he said, his voice reverberating against my body. “For a human.”
I laughed, relishing the way his head bounced against my chest, enjoying the way he frowned at me in disapproval. “Still haven’t given up the fight, have you? Still taunting me after I’ve fucked you into a quivering puddle? It’s a wonder you didn’t scream yourself hoarse. The ghouls would have come running out of their burrows.”
Orphium rolled his eyes. “Oh, yes, young Master Stonesguard,” he cooed, his words dripping with sarcasm. “I should be ever so grateful that you were so aroused that you couldn’t stop kissing me.”
I raised my head, then raised one stern finger. “I only did that to cover the sounds you were making with your mouth. You were moaning your head off. Would’ve attracted every ghoul from here to Il-venesse. You should be so grateful.”
He placed his head beside me on the pillow, resting his chin on his hand, a mocking grin on his lips, the smarmy little shit. “Then I thank you, wise and powerful warrior that you are. Look at you, always defending the people of Barrowdeep — even when you’ve thrust yourself balls deep into your house guest. What a hero you are.”
I grimaced, all the humor draining out of my body. “I’m no hero.”
Orphium shifted closer, his ankle warm against mine. “But those battles you’ve been in. Your life before Barrowdeep. I’m being serious, now. Surely fighting under the Stonesguard banner meant something to you.”
The breath rushed out of me in a slow, resigned sigh. “My father was never a kind man. I hate that we look so much alike, how I feared him growing up. He seemed so tall, so broad. And then when I was grown enough to carry a sword, it struck me that he really wasn’t very remarkable at all. He was a small man, in fact. Petty. Bitter. Greedy. ”
Orphium said nothing, his hand resting on my chest, five soft fingers and a warm, assuring palm. He was earnestly asking, sincere enough, it seemed, to learn more about my life before Barrowdeep. How had it come to this, our opinions of each other so changed since the first night he’d wheeled into town on his beloved caravan?
“And that was how it started,” I continued. “Ederick Stonesguard was always desperate to outgrow his smallness, eager to expand our family’s dominion. He took it out on commoners, sending his men to burn the farms and villages of those who wouldn’t swear loyalty and pay their taxes.”
I sighed again. That was one of the reasons we always fought, Father and I. He’d intimidate me to go out on these horrible missions in his name. “To what end?” I always asked him. For what purpose?
“He was a lord in name only. In truth, Ederick Stonesguard was a common thug. And it was common enough behavior for the lower lords, always vying for more power, pushing for more land. Plenty of others like him around the Emerald Reaches. Have you heard of the place?”
Orphium’s eyes flickered toward the ceiling in thought. “Heard of it, yes. Never been. Never had a reason to.”
I chuckled. “You’re a smart man. It’s a cruel name for such a barren place. It’s more stone than grass, more mountain than field. Emerald Reaches, my foot. Nothing to grow anywhere, little to feed the people. We were all fighting for scraps. It’s no wonder the other lords were so territorial.”
More shifting in the bed. Orphium’s other hand curled around my hip. Perhaps he could sense what was coming.
“So my father sent me with a unit of my own to settle a dispute at the border. Smash up some other lord’s men, prevent them from terrorizing our people? That I was willing to do. Father allowed me to select my companions, strong and clever people from Stonesguard Keep. People I trusted, some I might even call my friends. That alone should have given me pause.”
“Do you mean that he would have forced others to go with you otherwise?” Orphium asked.
I nodded. “The very worst were among his very best. Those with a taste for cruelty and torture. He allowed me to pick my own people because he wanted it to hurt that much more when I saw them die.”
The rhythm of Orphium’s breath matched mine. He hadn’t moved, but he felt closer, somehow.
“We settled at an outpost on the border. I never expected for us to be attacked from multiple sides. Lord Rennis and his raiders, Lady Hercival and her horrible war machines — we didn’t stand a chance. One by one, I buried my people with my own hands. Soon the supplies from Stonesguard Keep stopped coming.”
Orphium sat up, rapt in attention. “Because they cut you off? Like a siege. The other nobles’ forces, I mean.”
I shook my head. “Father simply stopped caring. No more messengers, no more rations. To this day, I’m certain. He sent us there to die. I disbanded our forces, told those who survived to find new lives far, far away from the Emerald Reaches.”
I sat up, placing one hand on Orphium’s shoulder. “That is why I keep my name and my heritage secret. You understand? It doesn’t matter how far. If Father finds out that I live, he’ll send his men to burn and ravage Barrowdeep. Not to kill me. Just to know that he’s killed everything I care for.”
Orphium chewed on his bottom lip, then nodded. “I won’t tell,” he whispered.
Somehow I knew he wouldn’t, but I heaved a sigh of relief all the same. “Some would call me a deserter. I accept that. I just couldn’t stomach the idea of letting more of my people die.”
Warm, soft hands rested on my chest, the small of my back. Orphium settled back into the pillows, pulling me down with him. “I wouldn’t call you a deserter. I think you did the right thing.”
And again, Orphium didn’t need to say that, but hearing it still helped my heart. I motioned at the shovel, still on the floor next to the pile of our mingled clothes.
“My old sword, a gift from my mother. She died when I was younger, but made my father promise to keep it for when I came of age. It belonged to her own father, she said, touched by magic. Not the most powerful of enchantments, mind you, just something to make the blade sing true, to help it seek the enemy’s throat.”
Orphium turned his head, eyes wide as he stared at the shovel. “You had it reforged into a shovel? No wonder you fight so well with it. Shovels aren’t really meant for warfare, is what I mean.”
A spear, an axe, and a halberd, all at once. I used it to slay the living, once. Then I used it to bury the dead. I blinked away the bitterest of my memories. A little light, now and then. I deserved some sweetness, too. I squeezed Orphium on the shoulder.
“So you think I fight well, then? Just as well as I fuck?”
He shoved me in the chest, scowling. “You’re horrible. But your father is worse. I understand now. It pains me to say this, but — well, I appreciate you telling me all this.”
I could have teased him for his softness. Instead I smiled to myself and gave him another squeeze on the shoulder.
“Only one thing,” Orphium continued. “If you’re so worried about being found out, you should probably do something about your shield with the big, stupid crest in the middle.”
He meant the thing I still kept to use as my mirror. I shrugged. “I don’t ever have anyone over, you know. It’s not really something I’ve had to worry about.”
“Oh?” He batted his lashes. “I must be very special, then.”
“You are. You’re a very special pain in my ass.”
Orphium laughed. “I could say the same for you. You fuck well. For a human.”
My hand found its way to the top of his head, my fingers twirling and teasing at the curls of his hair. He leaned into my touch, his body twisting closer to mine. So warm. So comfortable. This was nice. This, I could get used to.
And with a slow heaviness I remembered how this was supposed to end. Orphium would still be leaving town, continue on his travels to find more trinkets to trade for with his insidious games, more dreams and memories to steal.
On some level I knew that he wasn’t as evil and malicious as I’d thought. Not intrinsically. This bizarre parasitism of his, like a vampire that fed on sentiment — it was something he did out of necessity.
But who was I to think I could change him? Was I truly fool enough to think that I could rescue him from himself? Orphium was right. I would never admit it out loud, but some small, stupid part of me really believed I was a hero.
Or perhaps he was wrong. Heroes did things for others. This one thing, I wanted to do for myself.
“You don’t have to go,” I told him, quietly, plainly.
His legs slid under the sheets, his head tilting, eyes gazing into mine. “Of course I do. That’s how this works. I slip away before the townsfolk realize the gold coins I paid them have vanished. At which point they chase me out, never really remembering why they were so angry, because nobody ever remembers what they really lost. It’s a victimless crime.”
I flicked him on the nose. “Except for the victims.”
He rubbed at it, frowning irritably. So charming, and so handsome, this villain of mine.
“We’ve discussed this one too many times, Stonesguard. All you have to do is give me the coin. ”
This stupid coin with all its supposed power. Perhaps I was too untrained in the arcane to sense its magic, the way Orphium spoke of its wonders. Had it really saved us from those ghouls, or was it sheer dumb luck all along? The regular kind, the kind without magic.
If giving him the coin meant that he would return everything he’d stolen — if it meant that he would have an excuse to stay in Barrowdeep a little while longer? Then maybe I could swallow my pride and surrender the accursed thing.
Everyone would win, then — Orphium, Barrowdeep, and in a way, I might get what I wanted, too. Just as soon as I figured out what that was. But this, at least, was one battle I’d be willing to lose. I could tell him in the morning.
“Again with the bloody coin,” I grunted. “Go to bed. We can argue about this again after we’ve both had some sleep.”
His chuckle traveled up through my torso, this mocking, mirthful laughter of his that I no longer found quite as annoying as I used to.
“Perhaps you can try to convince me again when we wake up. You fucked me senseless tonight, you say? See if you can fuck some sense into me in the morning.”
I laughed. I pulled him closer, wrapping him in a tighter embrace, kissed him on the mouth. This was nice. Slow. Warm. Safe. And between the soft laughter, the quiet kisses, and the scent of faded flowers on Orphium’s skin, I drifted off to sleep.
Some time later, I started awake. It was silent now, no more Gwerenese music in the plaza. The night seemed darker, too. I grumbled to myself, rolling onto Orphium’s side of the bed, craving his softness and his warmth.
But no one was there.
I sat up, scanning the room, the cabin, finding no one. My heart sank, a heavy sensation of dread stirring in my stomach. Surely he hadn’t orchestrated all of this just to steal the coin from under my nose. I fell upon the floor, finding only my own shirt and trousers there.
He must have sifted through my things for the coin, changed into his own clothing, then snuck off in the night. My jaw clenched, a storm brewing in my chest. Anger. Betrayal. Disappointment.
I’d been so stupid. What was I thinking? I shouldn’t have expected. I shouldn’t have hoped. My hand fell on my trousers, my skin burning hot with shame. At least I wouldn’t look so shameful and stupid and gullible with some pants on.
My fingers closed around something hard. There was something in one of my pockets. I rummaged through it with a shaking hand, my heart racing even as my fingers found the familiar cold of something circular and flat.
The coin was still here. Orphium never took it. Then where did he go? An even more unsettling sensation took hold of me. Something wasn’t right.
I pulled on my clothes. I grabbed my shovel.