#3
“Nothing.” Lykor glanced toward the shadows enclosing the chamber, then back at him. “But if you’ve had enough of ruling for one day, there’s something I want to show you.”
Jassyn stepped out of Lykor’s portal and into the last light of evening.
Atop a mountain peak, grass cushioned his boots where bare stone should’ve ruled. Mist curled over the jungle, the canopy splintering the sinking sun into flashes of green and gold.
For a moment, Jassyn only stood there as the earth’s living pulse climbed through his soles, its steady rhythm quieting the day’s petitions and arguments still crowding his skull.
“Where are we?”
Lykor laced their fingers together, his grip careful enough to make Jassyn glance at him.
But Lykor didn’t meet his eyes. He turned toward the summit instead, where the rolling slope crested some distance above.
A manor rose from the mountain.
Vines and roots braided upward, shaping tier upon tier of balconies, terraces, and roofs half-hidden in flowering boughs. Orchids spread color from twisted trunks and living columns, petals luminous in the dappled light. High windows overlooked the jungle, their polished frames feathered by ferns.
A palace, if palaces had roots. A sanctuary grown from the wild.
Aiko swept down from an upper terrace and landed on a carved banister. Blue-winged birds exploded from the vines around the vulpintera, chattering their outrage into the sky. Aiko lifted one paw and began cleaning it, regal and entirely unrepentant.
Farther down the slope, pocket goats cropped the grass, round-bellied and no taller than Jassyn’s knee.
Jassyn’s lips twitched as they lifted their heads in unison and bleated at the sight of Lykor.
“Don’t say it,” Lykor growled.
“You moved the herd.”
“Drop it.”
Lykor glowered as Jassyn chuckled, though the expression didn’t survive long.
“I know the delegations gave you estates in every city,” Lykor said, fingers tightening around Jassyn’s.
“Rooms across the realms pretending they own a piece of you.” He shook his head.
“But they all know where to find you. Some crisis starts before dawn, and they come knocking because they know you’ll be the one to fix it.
” He glanced up the mountain. “I wanted one place they couldn’t reach.
Somewhere you could come back to when they’d taken enough from you for the day. ”
Jassyn’s throat constricted before he realized why.
“A home,” Lykor said, his thumb brushing across Jassyn’s knuckles. “If you want it.”
Jassyn could only stare at the manor. Every residence he’d been given belonged, in some fashion, to the First Keeper. Gifts from courts. Gratitude crafted from stone and timber.
His vision blurred. “You built this?”
“I had…assistance.” Lykor’s jaw worked around the admission. “Aesar designed most of it. He said if I insisted on making a haven, I should at least avoid making it look like a fortress. And Blossom did the actual growing. Obviously.”
At the sound of her name, the jungle stirred below the summit.
Blossom emerged through the trees. Sunlight shimmered across her scales as she began the climb, and vines unfurled from her claws, flowering through the grass in her wake.
A low rumble rolled from her chest, and she pressed into Jassyn’s mind like warm earth after rain, roots settling deep, the unmistakable shape of welcome.
Jassyn glanced from Blossom to the manor above them. “She…helped?”
“After incentive.”
Jassyn went still.
Incentive.
The vanished noble from Mara and Thalaesyn’s report rose in Jassyn’s mind. Jeweled fingers disappearing into Blossom’s jaws. Silk dragged into darkness. Screams cut short. Bones devoured by root and soil.
Jassyn’s hand slipped from Lykor’s.
Lykor let him go.
Wind combed through the grass as Jassyn studied the manor again. Horror and sanctuary, sharing the same soil.
“Tomorrow,” Jassyn said softly, “we finish the conversation from the council chamber.”
Lykor’s eyes flashed.
“No loopholes.” Jassyn turned to face him fully. “No hunting faster than I can write the law. No more delivering incentive to Blossom because you decided my wounds gave you permission.”
Lykor’s nostrils flared, and Jassyn thought he’d refuse.
Then he grunted. “We can discuss it.”
“We will.” Jassyn didn’t yield an inch. “And tomorrow, you’ll answer to me as the First Keeper.”
A muscle twitched in Lykor’s jaw. Jassyn let the silence hold until Lykor conceded one sharp nod.
A murmur of voices drifted from somewhere within the manor, softened by distance. Beyond a high archway, globes of illumination spiraled across a great hall, revealing a table built for far more than two.
“You made room for others?” Jassyn asked.
Lykor flicked a hand toward the eastern wing. “There’s enough space for your strays. Fenn’s already planted herbs for tea in a garden I never agreed to. He, Serenna, Vesryn, and the king’s spawn have made the invasion permanent and claimed half that wing for themselves.”
His mouth twisted into a sneer. “And Aesar’s human has taken over the western gallery, since apparently he lives here now too. But the highest rooms are ours.”
Warmth loosened in Jassyn’s chest at the thought.
Lykor’s hand fell to his side. When he spoke again, his voice had gone quiet. “I know I’m gone too often when the days belong to Aesar.” His fingers curled into his palm. “I didn’t want you coming back to empty halls.”
Jassyn reached for him and caught his jaw. “It’s perfect.”
The words were pitifully small for what he meant.
For the windows already glowing against the coming night.
For Sharyne darting past an open archway with Vesryn chasing close behind, Serenna calling after them with laughter in her voice.
For the scent of roasting herbs and spices drifting down from somewhere within, unmistakably Fenn’s cooking.
For the absurd goats grazing unbothered while Blossom curled into the grass nearby.
For rooms already filling with the people he cared about, the house alive around him before he’d understood how badly he needed somewhere that asked nothing of him except his return.
His thumb swept across Lykor’s cheek.
“I’ve never…” Jassyn’s voice snagged on the words. “I’ve never had a place like this before.”
Lykor leaned into his hand, barely enough to feel. “You do now.”
The names from the reports still waited. So did the delegate’s empty stare, the obedience forced into that inclined head after his magic had stripped her of choice.
Tomorrow would have consequences for them both, lines drawn where love could no longer excuse what crossed them.
But this moment stood before tomorrow.
Jassyn reached for Lykor’s hand.
“Will you show me our home?”