He pursed his lips. “While I was away, I had some time to think. I…thought a lot about Zyssept.”
Lena felt her muscles tense. She wanted to get up, walk away from this conversation and wherever it would lead, but she couldn’t. All she could do was stare at Bastian and wonder why he’d thought of the old god of death who wanted her as his bride. Her voice came out dreadfully slow, “Why?”
“I could not help but wonder about the old god. I have never heard of him, but I wonder why you and the others assume he is so awful and we must fight him. What if…what if Zyssept isn’t?”
“Isn’t what?”
He was silent for a minute. “What if he’s not wholly evil?”
“He is a god of death,” Lena reminded him. “Zyssept is the god of dark magics—or at least necromancy. How could he not be bad?”
It was Bastian’s turn to remind her of something, “You are a necromancer. Technically. Whether it was accidental or not, you have risen three thralls and hordes of corpses who would’ve done your bidding if the others hadn’t destroyed them first. You’ve done all that, and you aren’t evil.”
Shit.
Bastian was right, wasn’t he? She wouldn’t go so far as to admit he was right about Zyssept, but he was right about her. Logically, of course, if he was right about her using necromancy and not being evil…Lena supposed one could use the same logic on Zyssept.
The dreams she’d had, nightmares actually, where Zyssept had spoken to her, shown her things she did not want to see—Bastian’s rotting corpse, Vale and Tamlen with babies, who caught some sickness and rotted right in front of her—those were not things a benevolent god would show someone. Those were horrifying images a malevolent creature used to try to control her. She could not, would not dare to think Zyssept anything less than a monster.
“If Zyssept is…munificent, we don’t have to fight him, do we?”
Lena bit the inside of her cheek. This was not at all what she thought Bastian would want to talk about. “He wants me as a bride. What that entails, I cannot imagine, but I know it’s not good. I am not going to turn into a goddess of death and destruction, all because some old god wants to rule the world.”
Bastian cocked his head. “He told you that?”
She stared at him quizzically. “You sound as if you’ve met Zyssept, had a few drinks with him, and decided he was a friendly fellow.” Lena watched as Bastian’s thoughtful expression changed into one she could not read, in spite of how hard she tried.
“Don’t be foolish,” he told her, almost scolding her, much like he would have when she was younger. “The old god has not stolen you from the world yet. All I mean is that, perhaps, he is not entirely bad.” Bastian drew a finger along her jawline, lifting her chin slowly. “And as for the object of his desires, I cannot blame him for wanting you. You are spectacular in every way, Celena.”
Sweet, and yet there was a but in there—a but from her. “But I am not an object. I am a person, and I will never be okay with giving myself to a god of death.”
Zyssept wasn’t just an old god of death, either. He was the god of the void and the bringer of disease—which Bastian had died from. The plague. Who knew what else he had dominion over.
Lena buried her face in his chest, adding, “I don’t want to think about Zyssept right now.” She only wanted one more day of bliss, one more night of relaxation and happiness…then she’d have to go back and face the music. And she knew the music wouldn’t be melodic; its notes would be off-tune and jarring.
“I’m sorry for bringing it up,” Bastian whispered. “Truly, I am. But it is something you must think about. If he’s truly after you, he will come for you eventually, whether you want him to or not. How you react to him could perhaps change the fate of the world.”
She couldn’t help but crack a smile at that. “The fate of the world, huh? As if something so heavy could fit on these shoulders.”
“You would be surprised at what weight you can carry,” Bastian whispered. Though he spoke to her, his eyes were not on her. They rested in the corner of the washroom, as if he were lost in thought. “Until you are forced to, you never know what you are capable of.”
That sounded like some street corner psychic mumbo-jumbo, but Lena didn’t call him on it. Maybe he spoke from past experience, she couldn’t know. She wasn’t with him in the end. She wasn’t there with him when he breathed his last breath.
“Before,” she found herself saying, “when you were sick…” Lena stopped herself, not certain what she was seeking to say. The silence following her words was stifling. It was a dumb thing to bring up, still recent for him. Would she ever learn to keep her mouth shut?
“My last thoughts were of you,” Bastian said, his voice barely audible.
Those words cut her like a dagger. They were what she wanted to hear, but still. It was hard, hearing him say it. He’d died alone, suffering from a sickness he couldn’t recover from, while thinking of her.
She breathed him in. “I’m glad you here now.”
The arms around her squeezed her as he replied, “Me too.”
Lena had spiraled, instantly and immediately, right after Gregain’s betrayal. She’d turned to necromancy without hesitation. What if Bastian was right? It was not the spell that mattered, but the mage. What if it was not the area of dominion, but the god himself?
Could Zyssept…be good?
Chapter Five
Tamlen had elected to make the beds. Valerius couldn’t say why he offered to do so, for the bedrooms were near the washroom, which was the room both Lena and Bastian had disappeared to. It seemed to Valerius he simply wanted to torture himself.
Leave them be was his mindset; let them have their time alone. They’d been close before Bastian’s death, and Lena deserved to be happy. If that happiness came along with having Bastian in their group, their relationship, so be it. Valerius was, he realized, not that picky of a fellow. As long as he had Lena, he’d be fine.
At least, he thought, being stuck inside an abandoned farmhouse was better than being stuck inside a single room in an inn. Although he did miss Harry and his meals. Valerius set a hand on his stomach. One of them would have to go hunting soon. Odds were, it’d have to be him, because he doubted he could get Tamlen to leave the house while Bastian and Lena were alone.
Tamlen stormed down the hall, huffing. “They are most certainly fucking in there,” he hissed, seething with anger. Anger because she wasn’t with him and Valerius, or anger because it was Bastian? He didn’t appear too fond of the new man. “That water is splashing around far too much.”
“Tamlen,” Valerius spoke, moving closer to him. He set a hand on his arm, hoping his actions would comfort the man and not rile him up further. “Jealousy is—”
“Not a good look on me, I know,” Tamlen cut in, though he did not pull away from him.
“No, I was going to say it’s ugly, and it has no place here. She’s not tossing you aside for him. They need time together, just as we had time with her in the room at the inn.”
He ground his teeth, an unattractive look, but one Tamlen pulled off well. His dark hair hung slightly over his black eyes, leaning more so over the scar on the left side of his face. “What if she likes him better? What if she prefers him? We can say we are equal all we desire, but are we truly? I don’t…” He let out a ragged sigh, leaning against the wall. “I don’t know what I would do if she chose him over us.”
Valerius moved in front of him. Though he was shorter than him, his looks pinned Tamlen to the wall. “It is not us versus him. We are together in this. We are a we, not a him, not an us.”
Gods. Had Tamlen acted like this in his first life? So tough on the battlefield, dominant in bed, but weak and unsure when it came to relationships? Had the man ever been devoted to someone before?
Tamlen’s dark eyes fell to his chest, slowly drawing upward, lingering a few moments longer on Valerius’s mouth. “You are fortunate I am starting to not loathe you entir
ely,” he whispered with a smirk.
Lashing out was one thing the man was good at, but Valerius didn’t let it get to him. He simply grinned as he said, “I think you and I are far from loathing each other. In fact, I’d go so far as to say you only come second to Lena—and I assure you, it’s not because everyone I’ve known has been dead for centuries.”
Tamlen actually chuckled at his words. His smile was slow and deliberate. “You have quite the way with words, Valerius.” He used his full name, which gave Valerius a certain thrill. “Did you spew sonnets while your lovers pounded you?”
He let out a bark of a laugh, refusing to let the prickly Tamlen under his skin. “I haven’t, but if you’d like to hear one, you and I could try.” Judging from the flicker of interest in the tall man’s dark gaze, Valerius knew he was interested. He had to tease him a bit first, though: “I could help you get your mind off Bastian—or perhaps you’d rather your mind linger on him?”
Tamlen grabbed his shoulders in a fake display of rage. “You best take that back, or else.”
“Or else what?” Since Tamlen could only growl out incoherent responses, Valerius managed a chuckle as he disentangled himself from the man’s grip. He moved a step closer, dragging a hand down his flat stomach, stopping only when he touched Tamlen’s hardening length. “I can think of a few or elses.”
Valerius’s gaze never left Tamlen’s as he worked to undo the man’s pants, pulling them down just enough to allow his glorious, thick cock to spring forward. Or up, rather. In all Valerius’s life, he’d never been witness to such a cock. Not only did it have length, but girth as well. Getting it inside his mouth was trying, but utterly worth it.
After his hand had gripped the shaft, Valerius began to move his arm, pumping his fist along the cock that had him mesmerized. Tamlen’s lips parted, and he closed his eyes as he let Valerius jack him off.
Valerius was on his knees in a few moments, taking his cock in his mouth, working it with his tongue. Listening to the man’s moans made his own dick harden in his pants. He held onto himself as he sucked Tamlen off, gripping the base of his shaft.
Fingers weaved through Valerius’s hair, and Tamlen’s hips started to thrust. “Your mouth was made for my cock,” he muttered, delirious with pleasure, his eyelids lowered to reveal only slits of his eyes. He would get no arguments from Valerius, partially because his dick was in his mouth, and partially because it felt as though it was true.
A warm, salty substance shot down Valerius’s throat as Tamlen came, his body trembling with the orgasm. Valerius swallowed him up, almost greedy. He slowly stood, leaving the other man’s pants down. He lifted his eyebrows, which earned him a scowl from the other man. He wasn’t asking Tamlen to go down on him, not if he didn’t want to. If he had to touch himself, he would—it’d just be better if he could—
Tamlen shocked him by yanking down his pants, locking gazes with him as he demanded, “Don’t say a word.” His voice was low, breathy, almost haggard, as if the orgasm had taken a lot from him. He did not lower himself, but he did move to take Valerius’s erection in his hand.
The feeling of his tough, worn palm holding onto him made Valerius’s cock throb with desire. He could not stop the moan rising from his chest when Tamlen started to draw his hand along him. It felt better than he imagined it would, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of it. To have Tamlen—the mighty Tamlen, the dominant Tamlen—pleasuring him was mind-blowing.
As Tamlen worked him, he said, “I bet you want my cock inside of you.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement, one Valerius could not deny.
The mere thought of Tamlen bending him over, pushing inside of him, gripping the sides of his hips as he fucked him made him lose it. The pleasure overtook him instantly, forcing him to close his eyes and groan. Some of his cum shot out on Tamlen’s leg, but most of it got on his hand. As Valerius regained himself, Tamlen moved his sticky hand to his ass, abruptly yanking him closer. Their bare legs touched, and for a moment, neither man moved.
Valerius stood on his tiptoes, his lips grazing Tamlen’s as he said, “That was…very nice.”
“Very nice, hmm?” Tamlen rose a single eyebrow. “That’s it?”
“I cannot help but wonder how it would feel to have your mouth around my cock,” he whispered. The rest of his words were stolen from his lungs when Tamlen spun him, pinning him against the wall and kissing him hard. His stubble grazed his chin. He practically whimpered in the man’s grasp.
Before anything more could happen, they were no longer alone in the tiny living area. Bastian and Lena stood, not five feet off, staring at them. Once Tamlen realized what it looked like—or rather, what it indeed was—he hurriedly unpinned Valerius from the wall and pulled up his pants, wiping his hand on his backside. Bastian had already averted his eyes to Lena, watching her react to the sight.
And of course, all Lena did was smile, for she enjoyed it when Valerius and Tamlen were together.
As Valerius slowly bent for his trousers and pulled them up, Tamlen stammered, “It’s not—”
“Please,” Bastian said, returning his hazel stare to Valerius and Tamlen once they were both decent. “I spent my formative years in Sumer. Everyone has sex with everyone else, regardless of wealth or gender or…well, anything.” Still, his cheeks were flushed. Was it because he’d just been with Lena, or was he embarrassed for walking in on Tamlen and Valerius?
When Tamlen saw fit to keep going, to defend himself, Bastian held up a hand.
Valerius tossed Tamlen an irritated glance. When would he face the fact he felt something for Valerius? When would the bull-headed man realize it was not shameful to be attracted to men as well as women?
Not wanting to look at Tamlen currently, Valerius said, “I’m going to see if there’s anything to hunt around here.” He stalked toward the front door, reaching for the rusted knob when Lena’s soft voice echoed behind him.
“I’m going back to Rivaini tomorrow,” she said.
“No, you are not,” Tamlen said instantly, tossing a glance to Valerius for support.
Honestly, Valerius didn’t want her to go back to the city either, but he most certainly didn’t want to side with Tamlen right now, so he kept quiet.
“And you’re all staying here,” Lena added.
“No, we are not! Why the fuck would we stay here while you return to a city that’ll have you killed?” Tamlen shook his head, furious. “I will not let you go, Lena. I will tie you to the bed if I have to—”
Bastian moved between them. “If Celena wishes to go, if she thinks it is what must be done, she’ll go. You cannot stop her.”
“I can try, at least.”
“No, you won’t,” Lena stated, an order.
Tamlen’s head continued to shake. “It’s suicide.”
“Maybe, but I have to do it. I have to make sure Ingrid is okay. The other mages…they don’t deserve to be punished for what Gregain did. If the King wants the dissolution of the College, I have to try and stop him.”
“If he wants every mage dead,” Tamlen told her, “that means he’ll want you dead, too.”
Lena nodded. Her violet hair was down, cascading over her shoulders. “I know, but it’s a risk I have to take.” She tried to force a smile, but it fell off her full lips almost instantly. “And besides, I don’t think Zyssept will let anyone hurt me, seeing as how I’m going to be his damned bride.”
Valerius was hesitant to say, “She may be right.” Just as he sensed an impending argument, he added, “Or she may be wrong. Either way, it does not matter. Lena will go because she believes in her cause, just as you believed in yours when you began the Grey Revolt.” He took another step to the door. He’d rather hunt, something he’d never before done, instead of staying and listening to the endless argument that was to come.
So he left. And he hunted.
Tamlen was mad at her, perhaps rightfully so. Still, it did not change her mind or make her waver in her decision. Lena would
return to Rivaini, even if she had to command her men to let her go. She didn’t want to control them in any way, but if Tamlen was so insistent on not letting her go, she’d have no choice but to use the necromancer-thrall connection.
After Vale had gone to try to scrounge something for food, Tamlen had stormed to the farmhouse’s back door and left. Lena knew he probably stood there, leaning against the farmhouse, stewing in his anger. She should talk to him, try to calm him down and make him see where she was coming from.
Lena let out a sigh, hating the tension that followed her everywhere. Tension due to magic. Such unfortunate magic. She hated it sometimes, hated magic in its entirety. Sometimes her hatred for it overpowered her fear of it. Her fingers toyed with the fraying seams of her yellow robes as she debated on following after Tamlen.
Bastian stood near her, his gaze heavy and serious. “They care for you,” he said. “These men.”
She had to agree with that. “They do.”
He moved closer, setting a hand on her back. His touch brought a welcomed warmth, a familiar scent. If Bastian wasn’t here, she might’ve gone crazy. “You are lucky to have them.”
“I’m lucky to have all of you.” But as Lena said it, she knew the truth: she wasn’t lucky. She’d done this with necromancy. There was nothing lucky about it, since black magic was all over it. Despite wanting to stay near him, she pulled away. “I should talk to Tamlen. Calm him down.”
Bastian only nodded, watching as she walked through the living space and through the kitchen.
As soon as she exited the back door, she saw Tamlen standing before the graves of the farmers, one old with grass grown over it, and one newer, the one they’d dug the day before. The small mound of stones that had been placed over the older grave had collapsed and caved; a few of them had rolled a couple feet away. There were no stones over the newest mound of dirt. They’d buried her, but they didn’t give her a ceremony; they hadn’t known her.
“Tamlen,” Lena spoke his name softly, moving beside him. His handsome, scarred features looked thoughtful instead of mad, and she wondered what had him so entranced. His dark eyes lingered on the graves.
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