Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
W hen he wasn’t occupied with the jobs and tasks as ordered by his father or Verin, Leander found himself spending more and more time enjoying not only what delights Jasmine had to offer, but also the wonders of Saeren’s underworld.
Now that he was mortal, with no divine protections, Leander found himself very much enjoying the effects of various substances and activities to alter his worldly experience in both body and mind.
It wasn’t much of what he wanted out of life, but it was… fun.
Taverns were good enough on occasion, but he found himself craving, needing , more than what ale could provide. Jasmine’s brothel had opened his eyes to the dark delicacies that the mortal world had on offer, and he couldn’t get enough.
Nights passed in a blur and were often forgotten by the next morning, as Leander found himself blacking out as a result of whatever it was that he was consuming more and more frequently.
The previous night had been no exception, as he once again tried some of Jasmine’s opiates whilst bedding Talia, who had fast become his favourite distraction.
Leander had never seen the Desannian prince in the brothel again, which was a shame, because he could not stop thinking about how much he wanted to ravish him. Or to be ravished by him—that was really what he wanted.
He had a vivid imagination, and spent hours thinking about what he might do with Jarryn if given the chance in a shadowy corner of Jasmine’s brothel.
When Leander blinked blearily into wakefulness, his head was pounding. He was vaguely aware of pressure against his skin as someone leaned in to touch his forehead with the back of a hand.
The demigod flinched backwards, gut twisting violently, and he abruptly shot up into a sitting position, almost toppling out of the bed, as he rapidly scanned the room.
“Calm yourself, Leander.” The Talius scion’s voice was quiet but firm as he steadied his younger half-brother on the shoulder with his hand. “You’re okay.”
Leander had only a second’s warning before the feeling of nausea hit him like a tsunami.
He leaned over the side of the bed just as the older aristocrat brought a bowl to his face and tucked his long locks of brown hair behind his ears.
He didn’t actually throw up anything; he just retched a few times.
This, in a way, was possibly worse, because he still went through the horrible feeling that his stomach was being ripped out of his lower body but didn’t have the satisfying feeling of achievement one has when one sees the vomit.
His throat was burning something fierce, and he so desperately wanted to reach down and rip out the offending organs—of which there were many—causing his current suffering.
“You deserved every bit of that,” Verin said scathingly, and Leander could tell that he was beyond enraged.
“How… why… what happened?”
“You couldn’t stay where you were,” Verin said bluntly.
“Passed out cold on the streets of Saeren? I think not, little lion. As to what happened? Your guess is as good as mine, as there are no willing witnesses coming forward to lay bare your shame for us to know. I suspect you pay them far too well for their silence.”
“Can I have something to…?” the demigod looked up as Verin handed him a glass of water. “Thank you,” Leander whispered meekly and then he took a gulp of the tepid water. He gagged, despising the lukewarm piss he had been given.
“Drink slowly, small sips,” was all the reply Verin offered.
After sitting still for a few minutes and doing as instructed, the world stopped spinning on its axis and the nausea began to subside. Without dizziness and nausea to concentrate on, the young demigod considered his situation.
Leander could feel the older aristocrat entering his unprotected mind again with ease. He could even sense Verin’s vague fascination at his predicament.
Taking the glass of water out of his brother’s hand and placing it on the table beside the bed before turning to face the demigod full on, Verin looked at him with concern. “How do you feel?”
“Absolutely divine, just dandy, thanks for asking,” Leander said, his response more than a little hysterical.
Verin wasn’t deterred, and ploughed on with his questioning, determined to get to the bottom of why he had been forced to search the streets for his youngest brother like a gnarled old woman searching for a wayward cat.
“Would you like to explain, then, what drove you to ingest opiates so nonchalantly, without a single care for what damage it would cause to your body and mind?”
He wasn’t in the mood for this. “Oh, fuck off, Verin, give me a break, okay? I’m not a child, so don’t tell me how I should be acting.”
“Now why would I do that when you’re making it oh so very easy to treat you like one? Your little escapade down at the harbour last night has made it so abundantly clear that you are incapable of looking after yourself.”
Leander, who had been staring at a fixed point on the wall, glanced over at his brother and inwardly quailed. Verin’s countenance was stern, his expression hard, and Leander came to realise why so many people at court gave the Talius scion a wide berth. Leander felt very young all of a sudden.
“When we met, I gave you the benefit of the doubt, assuming you were sensible and level-headed, but I see now that trying to reason with you won’t work.
If this self- destructive behaviour continues, I will escalate as I deem necessary.
Keeping you, as a member of this family, safe is my highest priority. Please do not misunderstand me.”
The demigod, surprised at the affirmation, made to speak but was interrupted before he could even begin.
“I want you to think very carefully before you open your mouth. Let those reckless words circling your mind take form, and you’ll find the consequences far sharper than a morning hangover. You are on thin ice, dear brother.”
The demigod bowed his head in embarrassment. “Have you been sitting there all night, Verin?”
“Not all night, no.” The younger man began to smile in relief before his brother continued, whereupon the smile disappeared.
“The part of the night that I spent away from this seat was spent chasing you into the harbour taverns and bringing you home. You’re lucky I found you at all, passed out on a bench outside the White Fox, ready to be debauched and defiled by any passersby who saw you for an easy target. ”
The demigod grimaced, working his addled brain hard to piece together the hazy events of the previous night.
Trying and failing. Miserably.
“Whilst I applaud your efforts to never half-arse what you put your mind to, I seriously and genuinely have to question the integrity of your cognition, that you think that such a course of action was in any way acceptable.”
Leander ducked his head.
“Look at me, Leander. I have no interest in talking to the top of your head.”
He did not immediately react .
“Leander.” Verin said in warning, sitting up straighter in his chair.
Leander could tell that his brother was getting tired of his insubordination and was rapidly losing patience with him.
It amazed Leander how Verin had the penchant to persistently believe the best in all, including him, despite proving time and time again just how futile such a belief was.
But Flavian had explicitly made Leander Verin’s problem, and the scion took his duty to care over his family very seriously, regardless of how many times they fucked up.
He finally looked up.
“What, by the Nine, were you thinking when you wound your way through the streets to some godsforsaken whorehouse in the harbour, there to consume the gods only know what?” Verin asked again, and Leander knew he was swiftly running out of explanations that would appease his brother.
“I’m sorry, Verin,” he breathed out, much safer than trying to come up with a well-reasoned argument… because he knew there was no such argument to be found.
“Sure.” Verin was quite clearly losing his patience with the vague and meaningless responses Leander was providing. “I am beginning to doubt whether you actually know the meaning of the word.”
“Yes, I do.” He muttered sullenly as he stared at a fixed point, where the edges of the blanket were beginning to fray. Curious, really, that the Talius residence would have something not-perfect, something damaged, remaining unchecked within it. “You’re right, of course. It was foolish of me. ”
“The understatement of the millennium I think,” Verin said dryly.
Leander looked down at his hands and bit back a retort, but he knew Verin saw it swimming at the edge of his mind.
“You’re lucky it was me, and not father, who noticed you were gone.”
Leander stared blankly around, deciding against further questioning about how Verin went about returning him home. He knew Verin was in a mood and Leander was feeling fragile enough not to want to test that mood further.
Verin pressed on. “Why did you do it?” He finally asked, repeating his earlier question one final time.
“I don’t know,” Leander whispered, not voicing the thoughts in his mind, which Verin was fully privy to. Truthfully, he had had no reason good enough, other than wanting to experience the same things every other lost and lonely individual wanted to experience.
“I am beginning to get the impression you are utterly disinterested in doing anything that doesn’t have a direct positive impact on your own life.
You were dangerously close to irreparably damaging yourself last night, Leander, if not actually ending your pathetic existence.
An accident? Or a deliberate attempt on your life? ”
Leander winced, unable to answer that question honestly for himself.
“Because, believe it or not, you are not the centre of my universe. And if this is going to become a regular occurrence, then an ungrateful little degenerate like you does not deserve my scarce time and limited patience. Not when I have three children to raise and a kingdom to help run. I simply do not have the energy to supply you with what you think you are entitled to, especially in the intensity you are demonstrating you need.” Verin leaned back in his chair.
Verin had never been one to hold back on the barbs for other people, but his diatribe had never been directed at Leander and brought his threats to an all-new level. He couldn’t help but find it a bit impressive, if not a little disconcerting as well.
“Sorry,” Leander murmured, again.
Verin did not immediately reply, so Leander accepted a moment of reprieve. Leander’s head was spinning something wicked, and he groaned again, closing his eyes. His brain sounded like it was the spoked wheels of a cart.
“Papa!” Everly, Verin’s youngest, barged through the half-closed door to Leander’s room, announcing her presence with a whirlwind of noise and emotion that caused Leander to clutch his head in pain.
“What’s wrong with Uncle Leo?” the girl asked loudly. “Is he sick?”
“He’s not sick, Everly,” Verin replied. “Though… maybe… feeble of mind. That’s a sickness of a sort.”
Everly clambered into her father’s lap and stared intently at Leander. “His brain hurts,” she said after a moment of deliberation while making her own Aesthesic diagnosis.
Leander would have smiled at her blunt delivery of speech and crude understanding of emotions and Aesthesia. As it was, he was in too much pain to pander to his niece.
He just wanted to go to sleep until this is all over .
Verin stared at the top of Leander’s head, as the demigod had fixed his gaze to a spot on the floor. “I think your Uncle Leo deserves to be left alone for now, don’t you agree, Everly?” he intoned.
Through his eyelashes, Leander saw his niece kicking her feet out into the air, coming dangerously close to knocking her toes against the bed, which he knew he wouldn’t tolerate very well right now.
“But… he promised we could go play in the gardens. He’s already late.”
Please, no…
Leander glanced up at his brother, his expression beseeching.
Verin yielded to the look on the demigod’s face. “Perhaps another day, sweetheart. Leander needs to recover.”
“Sorry, Everly.”
“I never realised you had such a penchant for apologising so disingenuously. Even she knows you don’t mean it, and she’s only six. Some God of Lies you are.”
He received a shrug in response, the demigod clearly unable to think of anything else to say.
Verin sighed. “Remain in bed today. Rest and recuperate. I will make your apologies to father.” He paused. “As well as giving an excuse. You owe me.”
“I can manage, Verin—” Leander began to protest.
“And I grow weary of your dishonesty,” the aristocrat interrupted, rearranging Everly to rest on his hip as he stood up from his chair.
“This is the only time I will offer you this chance to recover in peace. Next time, I will not be so compassionate. Stay in bed and be grateful I don’t have you mucking out the horses. ”
Leander lowered himself back into bed meekly, aware that Verin’s threat was absolute. He would not get a second chance. With the door closing behind his brother and niece, Leander pressed his head into the pillow and closed his eyes, praying sleep would claim him once again… and soon.