by Hanna Dare
Tris straightened up and took a moment to take in the dragon tapestry hanging behind the Earl. It might not show every detail of the dragon’s scales and wings with its colorful threads, but there was something powerful in the way it reared up to face a charging knight.
“The tapestry, m’lord,” Tris began, “it’s very beautiful.”
The Earl glanced over his shoulder as though he’d forgotten it was there. “A gift from the king.”
“Oh,” Tris said, hoping he sounded suitably impressed. “That’s very kind of him.”
The Earl set his mouth in displeasure. “He could have gifted me with my valley back, but instead he sent a glorified rug to remind me of my losses. It’s the prerogative of a monarch — one must smile and accept whatever he bestows.”
The Earl stared down at his desk, his face turned moody. Several small bowls of brass and stone were on it. He dipped his fingers into one bowl and sifted through the gray powder it held.
Tris had been trying to find a way to work in a request to clean Ormur’s cell, which would require getting the key, but he found himself asking, “What is that?”
“Dragon bone.” The Earl’s voice was reverent. “The very last of it.”
Tris sucked in a horrified breath, but the Earl didn’t notice.
“They’re all magic, you know,” the Earl said. “Every part of them. Bones, blood, teeth, and scales. They don’t have to study and practice and suffer to do magic; dragons just have to exist. I ask you, is that fair?”
Tris didn’t really think he was meant to answer and even more certain the Earl wouldn’t like what he had to say, so he stayed quiet.
The Earl reached beneath his robes and drew out a gold chain that hung around his neck. On the end of it was a round gemstone of a dull red color. The Earl caressed it. “I found a way though. The power of the dragon.”
“Oh,” Tris said again.
The Earl seemed to mistake Tris’s confusion for awe and looked pleased. “It’s how I am as you see me. You must have wondered why I look no older than when I left Shadow’s Vale eleven years ago.” Tris nodded. “I’ve harnessed the essence of dragons in this amulet. It didn’t restore my youth.” The Earl sounded a bit put out. “But it has slowed my aging and allowed me to avoid sickness. Dragons live for hundreds of years, perhaps longer if the legends are true. Can you imagine what someone like me could accomplish with that span of years?”
“If—” Tris’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “If you have that power already, why do you need another dragon?”
The Earl looked at him as though he was stupid. “To make more, of course.” He lifted a cloth from the table to reveal another gemstone. It was a twin to the one the Earl wore, perhaps with a richer looking gold chain. “Finishing this second one has used up the last of my collection. It will be a gift for the king. He’s an old man like me, with his son nipping at his heels to take over. With this, he could rule for many more years.”
“It’s quite the gift,” Tris said carefully.
“It’s priceless, but I’m going to name one. I’ll get my valley back.”
“My— I mean, yours— I mean, the valley? Shadow’s Vale?”
“I heard about that upstart sheriff taking over and setting himself as a lord.”
“Well, lord protector is sort of an honorary title?” Tris offered. “Haymon really doesn’t give himself any airs.”
The Earl sniffed. “As well he should not. That valley shouldn’t belong to some jumped-up peasant. Everything that was mine will be restored to me. My lands, my castle, my position.”
Tris didn’t know what to think about all that. The Earl had been born into his position and that wasn’t something Tris had ever questioned. It was just the way things were. Except things had gone pretty well without the Earl, better even, and he didn’t think anyone back home would be happy to see him return. He couldn’t imagine his home belonging to any one person. The valley was everyone’s, wasn’t it?
“Um,” Tris said, “I know it’s been a long time, but some folk weren’t exactly happy with you before.” He didn’t want to bring up the whole driving the Earl off with torches and pitchforks situation because he imagined that was an unpleasant memory.
The Earl looked like he had bit into something sour and Tris figured he was remembering that very thing. “I’ll see that the king provides me with soldiers,” the Earl said. “Enough to quell any unrest.”
Tris didn’t think the word ‘quell’ meant anything good for the people in the valley, but he nodded respectfully.
He had to get that key and get Ormur out of here so he could get back home and warn everyone.
CHAPTER FIVE
“What’s this?” Ormur eyed the tankard of ale as if both the contents and container were foreign to him.
Tris had found the kitchen free of Helda when he’d brought back Ormur’s supper tray. That was an event rare enough to be celebrated and he helped himself to the ale, carrying two tankards back to the cell. One he set down for Ormur, the other he held onto and pulled a chair up to the bars.
Ormur picked his graceful way over to the slot in the bars and picked up the tankard. He sniffed it and raised his eyebrows. Ormur moved his chair to face Tris and sat down, his expression a mixture of curiosity and his usual irritation. Tris was getting the sense that one of them was a mask.
“We’re having a night out,” Tris said. “You and me.”
Ormur looked pointedly at the bars. “I’ll need something stronger to drink than this.”
“Forget all that.” Tris leaned in. “Right now, we’re just a couple of fellows having a drink.” He waved a hand around the room. “This is a tavern or an inn. Not the nicest one, mind you, but that doesn’t matter when we’ve got ale and good company.”
Tris grinned and raised his tankard.
Ormur stared. “I very much want to throw this at you.”
“But then you won’t get to drink it.”
Ormur shook his head but he did take a sip.
“It’s not too bad,” Tris said encouragingly, watching as Ormur ran his tongue over his top lip.
“I suppose there’s no point in sending it back.” The corner of Ormur’s mouth quirked. “The service in this tavern is dreadfully slow.”
“Aye,” Tris agreed. “And I saw the one waiter — you know, the plump one? He was definitely stealing food off the trays.”
“I suspected as much.” Ormur’s eyes were bright as he looked at Tris over the rim of the tankard. “But he’s not plump. More… solidly built.”
Tris hid his grin around another swallow of ale. He wasn’t sure if Ormur was offering a compliment on his looks, but he decided he was going to take it as such.
“So,” Tris said because travelers talked in taverns of places they’d been. “That waterfall you were talking about the other day — is that near your home?”
Ormur considered his ale. “It is a place I have stayed. I used to like to visit it.”
“Used to?”
“I was coming from there when I got caught. I walked into a clearing on the other side of this cliff.” He glanced at the rough stone wall behind him. “That man — the one with the stupid mustache — was there. He was bristling with swords and crossbows, but there was only me.” His mouth twisted. “My memories of the waterfall aren’t as fond now. It’s a reminder — don’t become attached to places or things.”
Tris considered Ormur’s words. “It’s kinda hard not to get attached, though. I mean, everywhere you go there’s places and things. People too. Some you like, some you don’t, but you’re still connected to them. You carry little pieces of every person you meet, every thing you experience with you your whole life.”
For the first time, Tris wondered how old Ormur was exactly. They looked to be the same age, maybe Ormur a little younger for all he acted so worldly, but his expression in that moment seemed weary beyond his years. “That sounds like a heavy burden.”
“Really? I thi
nk of it as a comfort. Like right now. I can imagine myself back home at my sister’s inn. I can see it so clearly.” Tris gestured around the room. “The big hearth fire is right behind you, chasing the chill out of the room. There’s the usual crowd coming in for their suppers, mostly villagers and a few farm folk who didn’t want to cook tonight. Everyone’s happy to be there. Though Maud the smith will turn around and go right back out if she doesn’t like the fare for the night. Lily will sometimes have the cooks make food Maud hates if she’s annoyed with her. Like if the smithy was especially loud that day.”
Tris settled back in his chair, letting the sights and sounds and smell of the inn build around him.
“It’s always busy around this time, but don’t worry, I’ve got my usual spot for us. A table in the corner where you can keep an eye on the whole room, but no one’s pressing in. You can see who’s gossiping, arguing, flirting, but you don’t have to join in. I like that — feeling a bit set back from all the bustle. Maybe it’s all those days as a shepherd, watching the valley from above.” Tris smiled and shook his head. “Don’t tell Lily, but I carved my initials into that table, just underneath so no one can see. It’s foolish, maybe, but I like being able to run my fingers over the letters and remind myself that I belong there. It’s probably the only time I’m certain of that.”
Ormur’s gaze had drifted, eyes half-lidded, like he was getting lost in the picture Tris was making, but his focus snapped back to him. “Why? I thought this was your home.”
Tris shifted in his chair. “Maybe because I’m always looking for something else. Remembering a place is easier than living there, I guess.” He rubbed at his eyes. “Sorry. This was meant to cheer you up and I’m being all long-faced.”
Ormur tilted his head. “Isn’t that what one does in an inn, after the supper crowd fades and only the travelers remain by the fire while the night presses against the windows? Talk of things close to the heart?” He lifted his cup. “When you have ale and good company.”
Tris smiled gratefully. “Aye, that’s right. Have you spent a lot of nights like that? Traveling and such?”
Wariness flickered over his face and for a moment Tris thought Ormur would close himself away again, but instead he took another drink from his tankard and began to talk of distant lands.
He talked of landscapes and strange animals and foods while Tris sat there wide-eyed. Even though he was delighted with the stories, Tris noticed that they were short on personal details. He had no idea how or why Ormur had gone to these faraway places in the south and the east, but Tris didn’t want to press him. He was content to just listen to Ormur’s voice and watch his face grow more animated — until Tris lifted his tankard and unexpectedly found it empty.
“I suppose that signals the end of the evening,” Ormur said.
Tris jumped up, unwilling to let the night end. “I can go get more ale.”
“No. That’s enough.” A shadow fell over Ormur’s face as he looked at the bars in front of him, but then he shook himself. “The service is terribly slow after all.”
Tris nodded, touched beyond measure that Ormur had made an effort to hold onto the spirit of the evening. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” But a ghost of a smile moved over his lips and chased away any bitterness in his words. “Sleep well, Tris.”
They fell into a habit over the next week of talking in the evenings before they both turned in. Sometimes it was no more than a few words if Ormur didn’t feel like talking. Other nights they spoke for hours even when Tris couldn’t sneak ale from the kitchen. Tris probably did most of the talking, but Ormur did share more stories of his travels, though never of people he had met or family or friends. Tris wondered at first if Ormur was avoiding sharing anything personal because he didn’t trust him, but then he thought maybe Ormur really had been alone more often than not.
“I might not be able to come by later tonight,” Tris said as he collected Ormur’s dinner tray. “I’m playing cards with Yonah. Marius has gone to town overnight, so I’m thinking I can find out where Yonah keeps his tools. A file or something smaller so we can try picking the lock.”
“Oh yes.” Ormur’s voice held a sneer. “Your escape plan — a study in slowness.”
Tris spoke quietly. “I’m working on it.”
“By drinking and playing games.” Ormur gave him a look that made Tris glad he was the one holding the tray — he hadn’t had to sweep up broken dishes in a while.
“I’m sorry,” Tris said. “I can come by afterward if you’d like.”
“Fuck off, Tris.” Ormur flung himself down on the pallet and turned his back to Tris.
The card game was a waste of time. And coins, because Tris felt guilty over Ormur and ended up losing almost every hand through his distraction. Yonah was so pleased at the change in his luck that he drank far less than usual. Tris finally asked him flat out to borrow a file, but Yonah only scoffed at him and kicked him out so he could count his winnings.
It was late, but Tris decided to check in on Ormur. Even if Ormur didn’t want to talk, getting a scowl or a glare would be reassuring in a way. It was funny how just seeing Ormur settled something within him. It was like getting his bearings after getting lost in the dark. He made his way through the quiet mansion, quickening his step as he neared Ormur’s room.
Tris had taken to leaving the door slightly ajar when he left, in hopes that it would make the space seem slightly less prison-like to Ormur and bring in some fresh air. But he hadn’t thought about what it meant for Ormur’s privacy.
The lantern on the table cast shadows from the bars onto where Ormur lay stretched out on his pallet, but those shadows weren’t deep enough to conceal what he was doing. One hand had wandered down his torso to loosen the drawstring of his trousers and reach inside. The hand was hidden by cloth, but its purpose and movements were clear.
Tris stood frozen in the doorway. Ormur’s head was thrown back against the thin pillow, eyes closed and fine brows drawn together — because of course he would frown even in pleasure. He seemed so intent that Tris couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be the focus of so much concentration. Then — because his eyes would wander even if the rest of him stayed still — Tris was drawn to the bare flat belly and the movements of that hand. It seemed to speed up even as he watched. He could almost see the dark tip of Ormur’s cock peeking out on each stroke, but maybe that was a trick of the shadows. He could feel himself hardening with every stroke, as though Ormur’s hand was touching him instead.
Ormur’s eyes parted and he looked at Tris through long eyelashes. “Are you going to drool? Your mouth has been open for quite some time.” His voice was a little rough but not angry.
Tris started. “Uh… I didn’t mean— I’ll go.”
He could feel a rush of heat to his face and stumbled over his own feet as he turned away.
“Why leave?” Ormur asked. He actually sounded teasing and that was surprising enough that Tris glanced back. Ormur’s hand had slowed its movements but not stopped. “You attend to all my other bodily functions.” With his free hand he gestured at the chamberpot. “What’s one more?”
Tris found his voice and his sense. “Because the rest you don’t have a choice about.”
He firmly shut the door behind him as he left.
The next morning Tris was determined to act like nothing had happened, even though he couldn’t bring himself to look at Ormur directly for fear that he would start blushing. Ormur didn’t respond to his morning greeting, staying quiet on his pallet.
Tris was well acquainted by now with all of Ormur’s silences, and this seemed like a thoughtful one rather than angry or sad. Or maybe it was embarrassment. He didn’t think he had ever encountered that mood from him before and it made Tris feel terribly guilty.
Ormur did eat a reasonable amount of breakfast so that was good, but he stayed quiet for most of the day, ignoring Tris’s meaningless chatte
r, until he came to collect the supper tray.
“You liked looking at me before,” Ormur said musingly from where he sat cross-legged on his pallet.
Tris fumbled and nearly dropped the tray. “What?”
“Last night.” Ormur’s eyes seemed to focus with precision on Tris’s heating cheeks. “You enjoyed looking at me quite a bit. I could tell.”
Tris set the tray safely down on the table and made himself meet Ormur’s cool gaze. “I’m sorry. I should have said it before, but I am truly sorry for walking in on you like that.”
“And for staying?”
“That too. It wasn’t right watching you without you knowing. I should’ve gone right away.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Tris squared his shoulders and resisted the urge to flee. He figured it was Ormur’s right to torture him a bit. “I guess I was surprised, is all. Not what I was expecting to see.”
“That’s all?”
“Aye.”
Ormur stretched out on the bed like a cat in the sun. “And tell me, Tris, since we’re being so honest with each other — did you touch yourself after? Did you think about me and put your hand on your cock?”
“I—” Tris decided to ignore his embarrassment and tell the truth. “I did. Twice.”
Ormur’s eyes widened a fraction, and Tris got some satisfaction from surprising the other man. “You admit to that?”
“I just did.” Tris grinned boldly. “Why? Don’t you think you’re worth being jerked off to?”
“I’ve found the men of Valta are often afraid to admit their desires when they involve other men.”
Tris waved that away. “I’ve traveled. I’ve been to Ens.” He frowned. “Are you from outside the kingdom, then?”
“What? Why do you ask?”