CHAPTER TEN
Alad
This time, when we touch down in London, I seek a landing place in the shadows of a dark alley so no one witnesses me in First Form.
I’ve been selfish. I didn’t consider what my actions in taking Char.Lot might do to her life, and yet if I’m honest, I don’t regret our time together. In fact, there’s an amorphous cloud forming within me. It’s light, serene, and blissful. And she’s the reason.
Her easy acceptance of who I am is a wonder, especially given that magick no longer exists in her world, but how far does that acceptance extend?
It’s one thing to fly next to my fur. It’s another to suck the extension that protrudes from it.
I still don’t know if she’ll want me in First Form when I stroke my lion i?arum inside her until it explodes into barbs.
Or am I just borrowing trouble?
“We can’t hide in the shadows all day, Alad. Please.”
“My Fourth Form pinches. My human form,” I clarify when her brows draw down together.
“And you’ll cause a riot if anyone sees you like this. And alert the authorities.”
I nod, not because I fear authorities, but because she wants me to blend.
“Stay here. I’ll seek clothing for you, though I implore you to be more meticulous in your changes of form from now on. We can’t continue to replace your wardrobe.”
“You worry I’ll be hurt if I remain in First Form, but I’m immortal.”
“Yes, well, I doubt they had riffles in your day. Bullets. Bombs. Let’s not test the strength of your immortality just yet.”
A grumble escapes me, but it’s true that I wish to remain close to her, and I might lose my place if pursued by endless government agencies that wish to poke and prod me to find out whether I represent a danger.
With one last bite of her bottom lip as she studies me, she turns. “I’ll use the money from your card game?”
Before I can offer her another coin from my string, she’s gone, leaving me wondering if she truly fears for my safety or if she simply doesn’t wish to remain near me while I’m in First Form.
I’ve been oblivious before. I had no idea I’d pushed Gilgamesh to the breaking point. I don’t want to distress Char.Lot, even if she never wants to fuck me.
And what is wrong with me that I continue to hope someone will want me for my intellect, imagination, and humor?
I am as I was fashioned by the gods to be.
I’m meant to protect a throne, a kingdom, a king.
I’m not meant to wallow in the scent of bread and flowers while hoping it can be mine forever.
Sounds escape the main street. A gaggle of women dressed in wide dresses like Char.Lot’s and Mary’s giggle and screech as they walk by without looking into the shadows where I stand. If not for the state of their costuming, I might think myself in Uruk again.
So much has changed. So much remains the same.
When Char.Lot returns with a bundle in her arms, she smiles. “The theatre is but a block away. The guard at the back door was more than willing to exchange some clothing for coin. Too much coin, of course, but with matters as they stand, thrift is a senseless economy.”
The tight-fitting trousers, shirt, jacket, some strangulation device she calls a cravat, and shoes all pinch as much as my form. At least my footwear is sturdy.
Unlike hers. Her shoes are shredded. I frown at them before seeking her gaze. “This will not do. You require better footwear.”
She glances down before shuffling her skirts so the fabric covers the top of her torn and tattered blue velvet shoes.
Slippers, she called them. “I’ll deal with the matter once I’m settled.
At the moment, I’m far more concerned about procuring you clothing large enough.
Plus, your coin is almost spent.” Her voice shakes, and she begins to thread her fingers.
“Honestly, this vagabond lifestyle is… trying.”
There’s an inaudible sob at the end of her sentence. Inaudible, but I hear it in my chest.
The alley is dark, the stone damp. Uruk had water aplenty between the canals, fountains, reed marshes, and the Blue River, but I’ve never felt this level of wet before.
It catches in my throat and on my skin as I adjust to my Fourth Form.
“Is it me, Char.Lot, the situation we find ourselves in, or simple exhaustion I hear in your voice?” I use my gentlest tone even as I gird myself against her response.
I want to take her into my arms again, to feel her heart beat against mine as it did all last night and during our flight together back to London. Instead, I keep my distance. Waiting.
“All of it, I think. This time yesterday, I had my life planned out. Even if—when—Mary marries, I knew I would be taken care of. She would either keep me with her or give me coin enough to buy a small home in the country. But now I feel disconnected from my life. I am disconnected from my life, and I’m afraid, so afraid, for my future.
” Her words run together as if she doesn’t possess enough strength to measure them.
“You’re strong, Char.Lot. Invincible. I can see it in your aura. There’s no need to worry about what you’ll become. The gods always favor the brave.” Though usually only after a dangerous quest or other difficulty, but this part, I leave out.
She begins to pace, three tiny steps, turn, repeat. “But I’m not strong. I took the easy route after my parents died. I sold myself, Alad. I sold the only real possession an unmarried woman can call her own, and all because I was too short-sighted to see another way forward.”
“And do you see a different one now that you might have chosen?”
But her stricken look is answer enough. For her, in that moment, no matter what she might think of her choices, there was only one way forward.
“Sometimes there’s only one path, Char.Lot, be it easy or difficult. There’s no shame in walking upon it.”
But she’s not listening. She’s in her own head. “And when Mary took me in, gave me employment, I worked and sacrificed to be the companion she needed. I could have lived with her for the rest of my days, content, if not happy. Though I suppose a part of me did fear.”
“What did you fear?”
She waves her hand around. “Everything. Nothing.”
“Char.Lot.”
“Fine. I feared that when she married, I would be let go. Mary’s well past the age of marriage, but she’s turned down all suitors, and while the duke is away, there’s no one to gainsay her from throwing away her future.
But the duke will return, and when he does…
” This time, her sob is audible. Loud, even.
And ragged. “I don’t want to live in the country, alone. ”
“Char.Lot.”
“And if I were stronger, I’d leave so she would marry. I’m the one keeping her from it. I know I am. Why suffer a husband when she has a friend for companionship?”
“I can think of one reason.”
But she doesn’t seem to hear my retort.
“And now I’m responsible for the welfare of a mythological being, and I can’t even take care of myself.
I don’t have coin enough to keep dressing you, Alad, let alone enough to rent or purchase a decent home for us to live.
Food. I…” Another sob cuts off her words.
She bites it back, breathes deep, and stands taller.
But my admiration has grown larger than my Second Form.
She’s nothing like Karu, excepting her beauty.
Char.Lot is willing to take responsibility for me.
She’s misguided, of course. I’m the one who’ll protect her, not the other way around, but the fact she’s willing to try, even as her entire future seems so uncertain, squeezes my heart.
She’s so tiny, so fragile, to hold a warrior queen’s heart. I cannot not take her in my arms. Magnificent. Brave. Kind. She’s the sum of these words, but so much more.
I drag her to my chest, the need to comfort her overwhelming.
I failed Karu. I won’t fail Char.Lot. My chin moves to rest upon her glorious hair as she tucks her face into me.
It seems so natural to hold her, almost as if I’ve always done so.
The pinch of my Fourth Form no longer bothers me, not when I can grasp her so close.
“You’re not responsible for me, Char.Lot.
I’m responsible for you now. You’ve rescued me from stone.
You’ve saved my life, and so my life is yours.
No matter what transpires between us, I’ll see you cared for.
” I kiss the top of her head. I can’t help it.
The wave of tenderness welling up inside me is so intense it requires some outlet.
“But you don’t understand the danger you’re in,” she whispers. “You think you can navigate this world…”
“You doubt me?”
She looks up and meets my gaze. I hold steady, letting her study me. Finally, she sighs. “I suppose not.”
“Good.” I chuck her under her chin. “All will be well.”
Her arms wrap around my waist, and she squeezes me tight.
The gesture nearly cuts me in two. I’ve waited so long for someone to welcome me with such a gesture.
I’ve had women submit to my i?arum. I’ve had women beg for it.
But there’s an emotion behind the simple hug that I’ve never felt before. Whatever it is, I can’t lose it.
When she pulls away, she swipes at her eyes. “Oh, I’m being such a ninny. I’m sorry, Alad. I’m over my vapors.” Her gaze travels past my arm. “We should go.”
She brushes my hands aside as I try to tie the cravat around my throat and performs the task with the silk I’ve left dangling. When I’m more or less acceptable, I escort her onto the bright-lit street, busy with pedestrians, carriages, and civilization.
London is like our markets in Uruk, only busier. Street vendors call their wares. Prettily dressed windows offer a variety of items to tempt passersby. Carriages roll, narrowly missing those folk who step from the walkway onto the main pavement.
We stop under an overhang as I take in the city. It’s magnificent, though the smell is atrocious.