Chapter 11
Gramlithyn was under the same roof as Pyxlevir, but he was hiding in his bedroom.
It was moving day, and the apartment was in chaos.
There were centaurs and Hawthorne-Stones everywhere, helping the twins and Pyxlevir get settled.
Since Gramlithyn and Dasan had brought their few belongings into the large space several days earlier, they had nothing to do.
Nothing except stay out of the way. Neither Pyxlevir nor the twins had ever lived anywhere but with their families.
It was easy for Gramlithyn to imagine that their announcement had caused a ruckus—they were giving up their family homes to share an apartment with a stranger and someone they hadn’t seen in six years.
The last thing Gramlithyn wanted to do was hurt Pyxlevir or the twins, but he couldn’t envision another scenario that would aid him in rebuilding a relationship with his other half.
A huge part of Gramlithyn remained shocked that the twins and Pyxlevir had agreed to his plan. But he shouldn’t have been surprised.
Despite his deep belief in tradition, Pyxlevir was likely eager to move on with his life, and that required him to endure a year with Gramlithyn to ultimately gain his freedom. Which was depressing as fuck and exactly what Gramlithyn deserved.
Sitting heavily on the bed, Gramlithyn sighed. A knock sounded, and he’d never been so grateful for a distraction to escape another inevitable wave of sadness and regret. Rising, he opened the door, and Dasan grinned at him.
“The apartment is full of giant grumbling dudes,” Dasan announced as he squeezed past Gramlithyn to enter his bedroom.
“I warned you there would be a lot of people around today,” Gramlithyn replied as he closed them into his space.
“Yeah, but in my head, I was expecting some massive people helping the twins, but a bunch of gorgeous blue elves here for Pyxlevir.”
“I told you his father is mated to a centaur.”
“Yeah, but not that the literal leader of the centaurs is Pyxlevir’s uncle,” Dasan complained. “I’m still learning this Council stuff, and I’m not trying to insult anyone…especially not if they’re related to your mate.”
Gramlithyn’s mouth quirked. “We’re here in this apartment to start the process of dissolving my matebond by spending a year under the same roof.”
“Nope, that’s not what I heard. You and Pyxlevir are going to give this whole thing a shot to discover if Fate was right. The way I see it, you’re more likely to complete your matebond than end it.”
“You literally just met Pyxlevir; how did you draw that conclusion?” Gramlithyn said, getting comfortable on his bed as Dasan pulled magnets out of his pocket and paced.
“Okay, let’s start with the obvious, which is looks.
Pyxlevir is the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen in my life.
Next is compatibility. Like friendship and shit, not sex because I read that elves can’t get freaky until after their ceremony, so you have to keep it in your pants.
You haven’t told me shit. That’s weird enough, but you were obviously close at some point or you wouldn’t have run away for six years. I bet Fate got things right.”
Gramlithyn shook his head. “I wanted to believe that. Deep in my soul, I wanted that. I still do. But I met Pyxlevir at six. We were inseparable. We talked about mates a million times because that’s what you do.
You dream about your future and tell your best friend.
First, he wanted a centaur. Was literally obsessed with the idea.
Then it was a bunch of other shifters. Everything but a zebra.
Not even in his craziest fantasies could he imagine himself with someone like me.
I’ll never forget how shocked he was the day he discovered it.
He was also gutted. I remember that. So yeah, I ran away because I didn’t have the strength to stay. ”
“Well, you have to convince him to consider a zebra. And you have your work cut out for you because he’s pissed at you now.”
“Thanks, Dasan, I figured that out.”
“Don’t get pissy, I’m here to help,” Dasan enthused with a hop. “And I want to make friends with everybody because they seem cool. I’d never heard of a gargoyle shifter until I met the twins.”
“All three of them are fantastic people; you’ll love them, and the feeling will be mutual, trust me.”
Dasan scoffed, and his enthusiasm waned for a moment, showing the troubled man hidden beneath his vibrant personality. “Right, because I have such an impressive track record with people. You’re literally my only friend.”
“That’s because most of the planet is full of jerks, but you’re about to be dragged into the world of D’Vaire,” Gramlithyn explained.
“It’s a huge clan of interconnected families, and every one of them is beautiful on the inside and outside.
At the center is the High Court of D’Vaire, and they run a sanctuary made for freaks.
People like you and me who fit in few places. ”
“I read about the sanctuary. You think I could get in there?”
“Now you want to leave your best friend? I need you here to help me.”
Dasan rolled his eyes and resumed his march through the bedroom, his vulnerability once again hidden beneath his sunny disposition. “Not right now, but after you and Pyxlevir are holed up in some little love nest braiding each other’s hair and whatever else elves do.”
“I don’t wear my hair braided anymore, and you’re going where I do unless you want something different.”
“Wait, you used to wear your hair braided?”
Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Gramlithyn went into the vast gallery of photos he flipped through almost daily.
He picked out a photo taken a year before everything in his world was upended.
The picture was one of favorites—just him and Pyxlevir sitting together wearing bright grins.
It was like a shot of serotonin every time Gramlithyn looked at it.
He handed the device to Dasan, and his best friend smiled as he moved his fingers to zoom in on the image.
“You look like an elf,” Dasan exclaimed.
“I am half elf. You probably noticed my pointed ears and green skin.”
“Duh, I know you’re an elf, but you don’t dress like one anymore. Hey, did you stop being an elf because Pyxlevir wanted to be with a shifter?”
Gramlithyn’s mouth dropped open. “Um…oh. Wow. I…uh…thought I didn’t want to be an elf because it was too restrictive.
” Not once had it occurred to Gramlithyn that his desire to look like a shifter had anything to do with the fact that Pyxlevir hadn’t envisioned himself with an elf.
Had that been an unconscious part of his decision to change his appearance?
“Because if you were a zebra, you could go bang other people and forget Pyxlevir existed?”
“It’s annoying how smart you are.”
“Dude. Your Pyxlevir is wearing zebra beads in his hair.”
“Yeah, he always did.”
“Why?”
“Because we were best friends?”
“Gram, do you see anything zebra on me right now?” Dasan asked, his blond brows furrowed.
“No, of course not.”
“I’m your best friend.”
“We were children, and he enjoyed having unique beads. I think it was his way of finding his individuality while maintaining traditional elven standards of style. He had centaur beads too.”
“You guys were super tight with Crispin and Colby then?”
“Absolutely. The four of us were together constantly as teenagers.”
“I’m not seeing any gargoyle or cougar beads.”
“Dasan, what are you getting at?” Gramlithyn asked, holding out his hand to get his phone back from the hummingbird.
“I’m not saying anything; it’s just interesting,” Dasan sang as he fluttered around the room. “But I wouldn’t mind asking Pyxlevir why he had those beads, which he wore constantly.”
“I still don’t know what you’re getting at, but Pyxlevir has always marched to his own drum. He was expressing himself in his unique way while not disrespecting the Valzadari.”
Dasan turned his head and stopped. “Was that the doorbell?”
“I didn’t hear anything, and I can’t imagine who else would visit; this apartment is already full of people.”
“I definitely heard it,” Dasan insisted. “We have visitors. Maybe it’s more hot guys for me to drool over.”
“Try getting a boyfriend or finding your mate.”
“Both of those options sound scary as fuck. I’ll stick to drooling, thank you.”
“Hey, Gramlithyn,” Aristos’s voice thundered through the door. “Your parents are here.”
“Oh, yay, I like them,” Dasan enthused. He whipped open the door and grinned at Semira and Laconifel as they walked down the hall toward the room Gramlithyn had chosen. It was the smallest in the apartment, which suited Gramlithyn fine. “Hi, Gram’s parents.”
“It’s great to see you again, Dasan,” Gramlithyn’s mother said.
Dasan’s face was a mixture of surprise and joy as Semira hugged him. “Gram didn’t tell me you guys were coming.”
“Because I didn’t know,” Gramlithyn responded as he greeted his parents with quick embraces.
“Kalthekor mentioned everyone was here and thought it’d be nice if we could all share a meal before they leave Pyxlevir and the twins in their new space,” Laconifel revealed.
The disappointment in his voice made Gramlithyn feel like a slug.
It hadn’t occurred to him to invite his parents, but in his defense, he hadn’t expected anyone to make dinner plans.
“That’s the first Dasan and I have heard about food,” Gramlithyn explained.
“We’ve been hiding in here from all the massive dudes unpacking boxes and grumbling,” Dasan added.
Semira laughed. “The centaurs have always been overprotective of Pyxlevir.”
“Jordan and the gargoyles aren’t much better about the twins,” Laconifel added.
It pleased Gramlithyn that his revelation that they were ignorant of the dinner plans had eased some of the tension, and his parents no longer appeared as troubled.
He didn’t want to hurt them, but he was still lying to them.
And nothing would change their anger and shame when they eventually learned why Gramlithyn had left.
Or that he’d run in the first place.
“That’s true, I was expecting them to show up with pitchforks today,” Gramlithyn mused. “But thankfully they were armed with boxes and suitcases instead.”
“Speaking of unpacking, was there anything you wanted us to bring you from the house?” Semira asked.
Gramlithyn shook his head. “No, I’m more comfortable in jeans, and it’s not like I need any of my old toys or anything.”
“Just because you don’t need them any longer doesn’t mean you might not want them,” Semira said gently. “Even if you don’t play with the toys doesn’t mean they don’t have great memories.”
“I don’t need them with me to remember the great times I had with them,” Gramlithyn responded.
“Okay,” his mother replied, though there was hurt in her eyes. But Gramlithyn wasn’t surprised. She was a sentimental person, and they’d nearly come to blows when he’d tried to box up or rid his room of old things. “Can we help you with anything?”
“Nope, all moved in. Should we go find out what they’re planning on getting for dinner?” Gramlithyn asked. “Dad and I will have veggie options thanks to Pyxlevir and Kalthekor, but who knows what those shifters will want.”
“That’s true, if I want a potato or a bit of salad, I need to get out there,” Semira joked. “Otherwise, those centaurs and gargoyles will order nothing but giant slabs of meat.”
“I like a mixture of stuff too,” Dasan said.
“A pasta or a roll. Those are sometimes more delicious to me than anything else. I get that protein is important for shifters, but I don’t like much meat.
Gram introduced me to the wonders of protein powder, and it’s been a literal game changer.
Now I can eat what I want and not worry that I’m neglecting my hummingbird. ”
“You did neglect your hummingbird,” Gramlithyn reminded his friend. “I told you about the protein powder after you fainted.”
“Okay, but that was because it was cheaper to eat noodles than to buy meat,” Dasan argued.
“If you needed money, all you had to do was ask, Gramlithyn,” his father remarked. “We tried to deposit money into your account.”
“I know, I denied the transactions or sent it back when you contacted the bank directly,” Gramlithyn answered. “It was important to me to prove to myself that I could survive on my own.”
“No more of that,” Semira stated firmly. “You did it for six years, and now you’re going to deal with your parents helping you out.”
Gramlithyn smiled. “No worries, I want to figure my future out. I also want Dasan to have the freedom to do the same, so I’ll take the money for now.”
“You will continue to take the money or you’ll have to formally emancipate yourself from your parents,” Laconifel corrected. “And even then, I’m still your Chieftain, so if I want to ensure you have everything you need and want, I will do so. Is that understood?”
“Yes, I’m not divorcing you or my tribe.”
“Not that he uses the Verdanyth last name anymore,” Dasan muttered.
“You don’t do what now?” Semira asked.
“I’ve been using Hippotigris,” Gramlithyn revealed.
“If that’s what you want, I understand,” Laconifel said, though his eyes were dark with hurt.
“I’d like to hyphenate it like Mom does,” Gramlithyn replied. “Is that okay?”
Laconifel smiled. “Of course. I’ll fill out a form and make it official. I think it’s only right that you give dignity to both sides of who you are.”
“I like the short hair,” his mother enthused. “And whoever did your tattoos is very talented.”
Gramlithyn chuckled. “I may have texted Jeremiah a few years ago. He drew the dragon, and his tattoo artist friend did the work. His friend also did the vines and flowers.” There was a third tattoo of an elven gargoyle, but it was hidden by his shirt sleeve, so Gramlithyn didn’t mention it.
Magister Duke Jeremiah D’Vairedraconis was a renowned artist and had a tattoo artist friend, Eric, who’d inked Jeremiah’s skin along with aiding other family members through the years. Gramlithyn wanted his work to be exceptional, and he wasn’t disappointed with a single drop of his ink.
“Excellent choice,” his father said. “They are remarkable.”
“Yes, and they suit you. Now, let’s go help these shifters pick out something Dasan and I actually want to eat,” Semira added.
Happy to avoid any other thorny moments with his parents, Gramlithyn was thrilled to leave his room and eat dinner, even if it was with a house full of men likely pissed at him for convincing their children to move out of their family homes.