13. Chapter Thirteen #2
“He likes plants,” Rafi explained shortly, then felt as if that were not enough but also too much information to share.
But Viau had shared it on his own, so Rafi stopped hiding his blush behind the sachet and added, “Not for beauty. He studies them,” and tucked the gift into his shirt to examine later.
The others all took a sachet, each of them looking like Rafi must have looked at learning that the legendary Viau experimented with plants for the healers. “He’s not only swords and gallantry.”
“Of course. Of course.” Katoh gave her sachet a tentative sniff, then brightened. “Sweet Daisy. I’ve used it before. It’s really stronger?”
“It could be.” Rafi glanced over to Viau, sitting with some instructors, and found Viau looking back toward him. Rafi smiled before facing Katoh again. “He keeps records and works with the healers in their garden.”
“‘Other interests.’” Laure nodded in understanding. “‘Not altogether unhappy.’”
“What does that mean?” Cambray demanded, poking his linen bag with a doubtful expression.
“You’ll find out when you’re older,” Laure told him smartly, and didn’t duck in time when Cambray threw the sachet at his head.
The following days were nearly the same.
Viau did not always have time to spar with Rafi in the mornings, and some nights he was away, but he made sure to find Rafi, or at least one of Rafi’s friends, to tell them where he’d be.
Viau even sat with them a few times, usually for the midday meal, and Rafi quietly hoped that the other students around them would eventually get used to Viau’s presence and pay less attention.
He thought that was more or less the case already, but Viau’s occasional visit to the Arms Room still caused tiny ripples of excitement, so Rafi supposed he’d have to adjust to being so near a diamond.
Viau never seemed to notice the furor, but then would turn his head to address their audience when they were done sparring as if he’d been aware the entire time that they were not alone, and apologize to Rafi if he thought Rafi was uncomfortable.
So Rafi didn’t tell him that he sometimes got similar audiences even when Viau wasn’t around. It was probably people expecting Viau to pop up at any moment, or maybe some curious first-and-second years wanting to watch Rafi be defeated when he sparred with Viau.
Rafi was honestly surprised that Viau continued to spar with him.
Viau had said he enjoyed it, but he was always so busy, and now he saw Rafi some nights as well.
Viau would pause by Rafi’s table and mention he’d be available the next morning, which Rafi took as an invitation and would show up at dawn to find Viau waiting for him in their courtyard.
They walked there together if Rafi had gone to Viau’s room the night before. That didn’t happen every night, even when Viau was around, because Rafi didn’t want to overstay his welcome.
He made do with showing up every other night or so when Viau was on the grounds.
Viau smiled when he saw him, kissed Rafi against his door more than once, and needed no urging to hold Rafi down and fuck him.
Rafi should have been upset about that, or maybe even worried about how much he let Viau order him about, but he was far too contented to care.
Well-fucked, Katoh might have said. Satisfied was perhaps a kinder term, because it wasn’t only the discovery that Rafi could get wet as a rainstorm outside of aedis if it was Viau’s fingers or his mouth arousing him, it was also having Viau hint that Rafi should stay until morning, and Viau bringing him a tiny seedling in a pot as a gift, explaining that once the plant was mature, Rafi could use the moisture inside its leaves to soothe his skin if he spent too much time in the sun.
Viau had lightly poked Rafi’s freckles at that, and Rafi had been grateful for how the playful action had shifted the mood, because the gift had caught him unawares and he had not been able to do much more than stare at Viau with a lump in his throat. He had felt less bare when naked and fisted.
One morning, Viau sat beneath the ceribud tree in the courtyard and read part of Rafi’s poetry book aloud to him, insisting that poetry might make more sense to him that way. That had ended with Rafi forgetting himself and kissing Viau until someone whistled at them.
Then Viau was called into the capital.
Rafi trained harder, and took to reading less passionate poems out loud to try to feel the words as he had when Viau had spoken them.
He set aside time to spar with Laure, both of them trying to follow each other’s aer while fighting and then trying to hide their own.
They had just enough success to keep trying.
Viau sent a message to Rafi through Instructor Briene, who appeared vaguely embarrassed about the whole thing as he delivered it, peering at Rafi and expressing a wish that Rafi was well before hurrying away.
He had probably seen the flash of discomfort on Rafi’s face, although that had nothing to do with him or the message.
The day before had been Rafi’s nameday, though Rafi hadn’t received any packages or letters.
He’d forgotten all about it until Briene had handed him the folded piece of paper, and Rafi had foolishly thought it was from his family and then remembered that his nameday had passed.
Viau’s handwriting completely surprised him.
The note said simply that Bellai’s play was debuting for the public that night, and Viau would be supporting his friend but hoped to return to Trianon tomorrow.
There was an ink spill or a line blotted out at the bottom, which probably meant Viau reusing an old scrap of paper and not that he’d written something else and then had scratched it out in embarrassment as Rafi might have done.
He was generous and thoughtful to keep letting Rafi know where he would be. They were friends who kissed and lingered in bed together. Rafi really ought to remind himself of that more often.
Aer surged to him from the greenery outside the Arms Room, sending a spike through his blood. The push and pull of it was strong because Rafi was strong. That was what Viau said and Rafi had no way to deny it when he could feel the new aer giving him life.
But he stopped himself before he could draw a significant amount from anyone near him, proud of himself for noticing in time, then losing even that accomplishment as it sank in that he had been reaching for that aer.
Rafi wanted, though he didn’t expect to get anything.
He could get what he wanted now, or some of it. That was what Viau and Laure would say. Katoh would wink at him. Cambray would make a crude joke about what he’d been getting.
Rafi stared down at Viau’s pretty writing, then refolded the paper and slipped it into his sleeve. He paused to take a centering breath before drawing in some of the outside aer again, enough to remind him that he could and that he’d caught it this time.
“You all right?” Katoh asked, wiping sweat from her forehead as she came over. “You’ve gone still.”
Rafi released the stolen aer before he turned to her, suddenly very calm. “It was my nameday yesterday.”
“And we didn’t do anything?” Katoh gasped. “Viau didn’t do anything?”
“I forgot.” Rafi wondered at her emphasis.
“Why would anyone else remember? Why would he?” He tossed his head to cut off Katoh when she started to look stern.
“Could we do something? Perhaps go to the capital? I have some coin.” Instructor Guen had handed a small pouch to Rafi two days before, saying it was for training the younger ones.
“Not enough to feast or purchase a private room to drink.” He wasn’t complaining; he’d never expected to be paid at all.
“I want some to help get new boots before winter, but we could have some wine with what is left.”
“You don’t buy the wine on your nameday.” Katoh sniffed haughtily, then refocused. “Can I get paid to beat up first-years?”
Rafi didn’t beat them up. Well, he did, but gentler than he could have. “Ask Instructor Guen.”
“Tomorrow,” Katoh decided aloud, as though she had ever felt enthusiastic about anything the morning after a night of merriment. “Oh. Did you want to see a play?”
She didn’t smirk or wink or in any way imply Rafi was longing to see Viau.
Rafi looked away despite that. “No.” Viau would want him to have fun, certainly, but Rafi shouldn’t want to see him so badly.
It was good to wait. “The drinks will be treat enough.” He rarely went to the capital, usually saving what money he had for other things.
If he continued his work with the first-and-second years, he might save enough to get a quality shirt made before he began to seek a placement.
That was reaching, he told himself and the disapproving court favorite in his mind who would want him to reach for more.
Rafi was knowingly trying and dreaming of what might be, even if that was only some wine and new, or at least repaired, boots.
That was more than he would have dared a few months ago, and he was lighter for it.
He would make his own nameday, and possibly make something of himself, and his friends were far better than a note from home about near strangers.
He pulled Katoh to him and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Thank you.”
The stutter in her breathing as much as the fizzle of her aer told him how surprised she was. But she allowed the hug to continue, calling over to her sweetheart in a very pleased tone. “It’s Rafi’s nameday! We’re going to get him drunk!”
Rafi was too warm to protest. Happy, some might have said.