Chapter Twenty-Four
“I was tired,” Austin snarked the moment he opened his eyes. Tristan was curled around him, warm breath tickling the back of his neck. At Austin’s annoyed words, Tristan propped himself up on an elbow and leaned in to study his face.
Austin’s grumpy look sharpened into a glower when he saw amusement in Tristan’s eyes.
“I was slow to offer assistance.” Tristan quickly ducked his head and kissed Austin’s bare shoulder. “That was my mistake. I thought you wanted to take care of yourself. I didn’t mean to leave you frustrated.”
The apology mollified Austin. And Tristan’s offer of assistance from the night before returned to him.
The earnestness of his “please” echoed in Austin’s ears, well remembered even though he’d only been half awake.
“Does it not annoy you?” Austin asked. “Touching me without me returning the favour? You gave me a blow job the other day. I gave out to you for having a big cock.”
“I greatly enjoyed bringing you pleasure in our nest, and I would have enjoyed getting to do so last night too if you’d been in the mood for me.”
Austin tilted his head back to read his face. Tristan’s expression was as unerringly genuine as his voice.
“Really, though? Because I wouldn’t like doing the same,” Austin said honestly.
Tristan considered that with a thoughtful look.
“What?” Austin pressed.
“I don’t know about that. You can be very…sweet.”
Austin scowled.
Tristan, apparently having predicted the reaction, had already bent to kiss the lines that formed between Austin’s brows as they appeared. “That does not mean you are not also very powerful,” Tristan added.
“I didn’t say it did, only that I’m not sweet at all!
Maybe once a year, I’ll cast a sweet smile.
But even that doesn’t really work. My eyes always look sharp, no matter how much I try to make them look soft instead.
” Austin was horrifically aware that he was babbling, revealing a card he’d played against Tristan on numerous occasions now.
Tristan released a fond hum. “I believe I would dethrone Hal if you asked while casting me that smile.”
“I would never ask you to do something like that.”
Tristan rolled on top of Austin, bracketing his head between his forearms. His hair was free of its usual bun and hung down to frame his face in silky strands. His eyes were steady blue, and beautiful.
Tristan traced a delicate line across Austin’s cheekbone and temple. “It’s your intelligence you can’t hide. You use the word ‘sharp’, but I would describe your eyes when you look at me in such a way as ‘shining’—or if you prefer a more pointed word, ‘gleaming’.”
He stared into Austin’s eyes as he spoke, and Austin wondered what they looked like to him in that moment. Were they shining? Gleaming?
Austin thought of the blinding silver of his tail.
The same shade as his eyes. “I didn’t realise my eyes were strange for a long time.
Between the scientists and the guards, I had seen blue, green, hazel and brown…
grey, too. Connor’s eyes are grey. My first day of classes, a teacher told me to take out my contacts.
I had no idea what he was talking about. ”
He framed Tristan’s face in his palms. “If I’d been born with the whites of my eyes dark like yours, I wonder whether they would have agreed to let me leave the lab at all?”
Austin wondered how he could shift to take on a tail, but something as small as the colour of his eyes hadn’t changed. Tristan couldn’t do halves. He was either one form or the other. But what did that mean, that Tristan’s eyes never changed? “You see far better than I do.”
“I do,” Tristan said. “And I think your eyes are very sensitive, for the sand to bother them like it did yesterday.”
At the remark, Austin studied the expanse of bare skin on display.
Some evidence of yesterday’s violence remained in scrapes and reddened bumps, but for the most part, Tristan looked untarnished and untouchable.
Austin tugged on his face, and Tristan leaned in to kiss him softly.
Austin enjoyed his touch and warmth before he rolled over so that he sat on Tristan’s stomach, looking down at the merman, studying him even closer.
Tristan lay back, silently accepting the appraisal until Austin traced a cut on his forearm. “It will heal quickly.”
Austin nodded absently, thinking of all the scars that adorned Tristan’s tail.
There was nothing in this form. Not a single pale mark to hint at the violence of his past. Austin’s own body healed like that too.
“One of my classmates used to donate blood once a year with his family, part of their tradition.” It was a story Austin had blatantly copied and told to Connor as his own, convincing the teenager to go with him to a clinic where his blood would be drawn and studied while he got to remain blissfully unaware that any wrongdoing had been committed against him.
“He’d donated blood five times and had five little white scars here to show for it.
Right here.” Austin circled the crook of Tristan’s elbow, the remembered little scars superimposing themselves over the merman’s skin.
“They were nestled together, like that constellation that hangs over Justerra’s palace.
My blood was drawn more than five times.
If it had scarred, my arms might resemble the constellations that hang over our ocean. ”
Tristan studied Austin’s unblemished elbows, where his skin was pale and the blue of his veins was visible.
A strange feeling bloomed behind Austin’s eyes. “Have you ever been prodded with needles?”
“I had stitches here.” Tristan traced a dangerous line beneath one eye.
“Once a year, the queen of Asar hosts the Soldier Games. Warriors from many nations travel to compete while businessmen and merchants gather to gamble. The final day is the most watched and most bet upon. Many train their whole lives for the chance to win, and the fortunes for those who prevail are great. My father entered me into the final day. My first match was against Nicias the Swift, a brutal swordsman. Most bets favoured him as the eventual winner.”
“You weren’t predicted to win?”
“No.”
“You were still a child, then. How young?”
A pause. “Nine.”
Austin’s shoulders stiffened, his thighs pressing in on Tristan’s sides. “Where was Hal?”
“In the Citadel by then, inland,” Tristan said.
He dropped his hands to Austin’s bare legs, squeezing his thighs in reassurance before continuing.
“His first strike split open my face. I thought I had lost my eye and dropped my sword to cup the wound. Many die in the games; only a forfeit ends a match once it begins. I had not forfeited, merely dropped my weapon. Nicias could have easily cut me down. His reputation suggested he would have—it’s why my father wanted me to fight him.
I never fought viciously enough for him, and he wanted me to learn the bloodlust that all great warriors possess. ”
Austin covered Tristan’s hands with his and squeezed.
“Nicias sheathed his sword and took hold of my shoulders. He told me to let him have a look and then reassured me that my eye was alright. He brought me to the healers and distracted me with stories of the inner continent as the stitches went in.” Tristan’s mouth softened.
“I liked him. I asked if he’d be my new sword trainer. ”
“What did he say?”
“He said if he lost the competition, he might have the time, but if he won, he was going to marry the queen.”
Austin’s brows rose.
A faint smile played upon Tristan’s lips. “He won, though the queen was not too impressed with his public proposal—the King had died only earlier that year. She rewarded him with a high position instead. He was anointed head of Asar’s army.”
“A busy position.”
“Very. Unfortunately, our lessons never came to pass, though I saw him often enough at court. My father despised him and advised the queen many times to dispose of him, but Nicias did a decent job and never gave her any cause to remove him from his position.”
“Would your father not be grateful to him? For not harming you further when the match hadn’t technically ended?” Cessair had often done Austin harm, but none of it was lasting. “You were an investment. Losing you would have been a waste of his time and money.”
Anger too quick to mask flashed across Tristan’s face. His fingers tightened on Austin’s thighs, going from a gentle rest to a firm hold. “We were not investments, Austin. We were children.”
It was the first time Tristan had directed such a fierce tone at Austin. Even when Austin had been sick and Tristan had been firmer, there had been a current of yielding in him. Something for Austin to prod at. Complain to. His tone now invited no such argument.
A knock came at the door.
Sitting atop Tristan, Austin called for them to enter. Eli’s head poked in. “Liam is searching the estate for you. Literally. He’s going door to door. I diverted him from here for now, though unless we’re allowed to restrain him, he’ll find you eventually.”
“No one may restrain him,” Tristan said. “Unless Austin gives permission.”
Subtly, Tristan caught at the sheets and lifted the silk to cover Austin’s bottom half. His cock was soft, and the tip rested in Tristan’s navel, hidden now beneath silk. Without looking at Tristan, Austin said, “Eli attends me when I bathe. He’s seen more of my cock than you have.”
“Has he?” Tristan asked, with no particular tone of any kind.
Eli shrank back, hiding behind the door now rather than peeking around it.
“Can you have Lassie prepare breakfast? It’s calm, so I’d like to eat on my porch. Make sure you get enough food to join us.” Austin paused to think. “And Reba.”
Eli nodded and quickly darted away.
Tristan slid a hand to Austin’s inner thigh. “Has he?”
“He dresses me every day, don’t be odd. You hired him for me, didn’t you? Or are you going to rescind your generosity?”