Chapter 30 #3
Behind Kaelen, an enormous figure ducked through the tavern’s low doorway. The man was old—grey-haired and weathered—but his arms were thicker than Richard’s thighs, and his chest strained against a vest.
“Hold still, lad,” the old man rumbled. “A fire mage, I am, though it don’t come to me as easily as it used to.”
He crossed to the table, wrapped his massive hands around the frozen bonds at Richard’s wrists, and let out a curl of fire. The ice melted instantly. The strongman did the same for the ice around his legs, then he was gone, dragging the unconscious men out of the tavern.
Richard sat up against the table’s edge. Kaelen’s hands hovered over his shoulders, eyes frantically searching for damage.
“He cut you. I should have—”
“It is a scratch.” Richard swiped at the blood dripping down his cheek. “I am well. Truly.”
Kaelen exhaled shakily, as if all his energy had left him, and his forehead dropped to Richard’s shoulder. “I cannot leave you alone for a single moment.”
Richard chuckled. “I had it handled.”
Kaelen lifted his head, mouth twisted into a grimace. “You were frozen to a table.”
“I would have thought of something.”
Kaelen flicked him an unimpressed glare and helped him off the table. Richard found his legs steadier than he expected, though the cold had left his knees stiff.
The tavern door swung open again. The man who entered was short, resembling an affronted owl, with tufts of white hair sprouting from ears. His patchwork coat had been mended in a dozen places, and he carried himself with a bone-deep weariness. Peering around him, wide-eyed, were Tilda and Wren.
“So,” the ringmaster boomed. “You’re the one our Kaelen’s been telling us about.”
Richard blinked. “I—”
“Kaelen says you’re strong.” The ringmaster squinted at Richard. “Aye, those shoulders look like they can do good work.”
“Master Clemens,” Kaelen interjected, “Richard is good with children, and you’ve five babes in need of minding.”
Richard glanced at him, bemused. Good with children? Him?
Master Clemens grunted, then gestured to Tilda and Wren. “These two tell me you helped when Benno and his lot were getting handsy.”
Tilda nodded sheepishly. “He punched Benno in the face, Master Clemens.”
“Good, good.” Master Clemens studied Richard shrewdly. “And you’re Kaelen’s lover, are you?”
Richard’s brain stuttered. “I—what?”
The ringmaster jabbed a finger at Kaelen. “That’s what he told me.” His eyes narrowed. “You are his lover, aren’t you?”
“I—” Ignoring the heat flaring in his cheeks, Richard tugged his collar down. “Of course. I even carry the elephant crest of his homeland. Does that satisfy as proof?”
Master Clemens peered at the tattoo with mild surprise.
“Well, I’ll be. That’s a Naradeshi elephant, that is.
Right, then. You’re in charge of the little ones.
Five menaces, ages six through fourteen, and they’ll run you ragged if you let them.
You keep them safe and out of trouble as we travel, and we’ll have no problems.” He nodded at Kaelen.
“Both of you get your things. Wagons leave at first light, and I don’t wait for stragglers. ”
With that, he bustled out, herding Tilda and Wren ahead of him. The place was quiet but for the tavern-keeper sweeping broken glass.
Richard smiled. The plan had worked. He turned to share a grin and found Kaelen’s darkened eyes burning into his neck. The knight’s lips were parted, his throat bobbing, and something almost hungry flitted across his features.
“You—” Kaelen’s voice came out strangled. He swallowed and tried again. “You have my shield on your skin.”
“Ah.” Richard shrugged. “Briony did it. She drew over the—the Lumeron. I did not know she had chosen your house’s elephant until after, and by then the ink had set, and I—” He faltered under Kaelen’s burning stare. “I should have mentioned it sooner. Dain and Selwyn are aware.”
Kaelen’s hand rose, fingers outstretched, reaching towards the mark on Richard’s neck—
Richard flinched. The motion was small, but it snapped Kaelen out of his daze. He jerked his hands down and stumbled back, a flush flooding his cheeks.
“I—forgive me,” Kaelen stammered. “I was not going to—I mean, I should not have—”
“No.” Richard stepped closer to Kaelen. “No, it is fine. I…I merely do not like anyone to touch me there.” He quirked a smile, hoping to return to their previous easy familiarity. “And I apologise. I should not have caused trouble.”
“You only sought to protect.” Kaelen ran a hand through his hair.
“And you managed to win the ringmaster over. The lover tale—” He winced.
“Clemens doesn’t let performers’ friends into the circus—apparently bad for morale.
I was midway through convincing him when Tilda and Wren came running in, yelling about a commotion at the tavern. ”
Richard adjusted his collar to hide the tattoo—Kaelen’s eyes kept darting to it. “It was cleverly done.”
Lovers. They would have to act as lovers now in a travelling circus, surrounded by performers, workers, and watchful eyes.
How hard could it be?