by Rae Brooks
There was the slightest of flushes on the boy’s cheeks, and Calis felt a smile creeping onto his own face. “How can I convince you?” Calis asked inquisitively. “There is nothing I will not do.”
“Why do you want to convince me, prince?” Kilik asked, and his voice was nothing short of a hiss. That suspicious nature—it seemed so strange for this boy—as though he didn’t know precisely how to go about implementing it.
Calis sighed. “I don’t know.”
Kilik’s eyes softened, though he seemed almost as though he didn’t want them to. “I apologize. You have done much for me, and I know I must come across as ungrateful. You are just… you must understand that to someone like me, you are very dangerous.”
The thought struck Calis as entirely disgusting. The fact that he could be dangerous in any way to this man horrified him. He could not imagine hurting Kilik—he absolutely couldn’t. The thought frightened and paralyzed him. But, the thought was not untrue—his mere position was threatening to Kilik.
“Apologies, but that is the truth. Your brother has…” Kilik’s voice trailed.
“I am not my brother,” Calis said softly. “I realize though… that who I am may be strange—threatening. I realize that my family has a reputation, and trusting me could certainly be considered foolish.”
“And yet I find myself wanting to trust you,” Kilik said warily. His blue eyes sparked with worry. Their color was so vibrant, Calis noticed, a thousand blues poured into a single iris. So many colors combined to make one, pure blue.
Calis’s heart hammered at the idea of Kilik being unable to distrust him. Surely, that had to count for something, though the easiness with which Kilik surrendered himself sent a flash of protectiveness through Calis. “You see the good in people too easily,” Calis said reluctantly. “Even when it is not there.”
The blue eyes flashed with hesitation. Calis certainly sounded then like someone who was trying to warn the young man away from himself. “No one helped you,” Calis whispered suddenly. “Do you have any idea what they would have done to you?” Calis spoke with a heated tone that he was sure he shouldn’t be using.
Kilik seemed dismayed at the abrupt turn that the conversation had taken. “That was not due to my trusting anyone prematurely. Those nobles sought me out. I did everything I could.”
“I don’t mean the nobles,” Calis snarled. “The nobles are clearly uncouth belligerents. Why should you trust people like that? No, I’m talking about the people of Dark District. The ones you seem to value so highly. They did nothing—I know we’ve talked about this before. But, seeing you like that…” Calis didn’t need to say that he was thinking both of the sun Kilik had been in danger and the sun the Phantom Blade had. “The bloody blacksmith wouldn’t even give me a sword.”
This entire speech seemed to have Kilik reeling. Whatever the young man had been thinking before, he was obviously reconsidering it. “The blacksmith didn’t trust that you were going to help…” Then, he froze.
Their eyes locked, and Kilik’s lips pressed into a thin line. The sun with the blacksmith had not been the sun Kilik was injured, and they both knew that. “Wh-why were you getting a sword from the blacksmith, regardless? Y-you… why would the blacksmith give you a sword—you were a noble?” The panic in those blue eyes was excruciating. He tried to reconstruct his statement—to pretend that they were not talking about the same incident.
But, as Calis had already determined, he wasn’t here on this sunless shift in this tavern to make Kilik miserable. “No,” Calis said lightly, “I tried to get a sword from the blacksmith to help the Phantom Blade a few suns before your incident.”
“Ah,” Kilik said, pretending to be surprised. He didn’t do a very good job of it, Calis noted. That panic was still terrorizing his eyes unendingly. “W-well, he still may not have understood your reasoning.”
Kilik was furious with himself. Calis felt a surge of triumph. He must have had some kind of effect on Kilik to cause all of his inhibitions to drop in the way that they had. Calis hoped that this was because of him—and not because Kilik trusted everyone so readily. “I cannot stop thinking about you. I cannot stop worrying about you,” Calis said suddenly.
This time, the red of Kilik’s cheeks was far more obvious. The bronze of his skin, which usually did a little for disguising Kilik’s embarrassment, seemed to highlight it this time. “What?” Kilik spat. “You don’t know me. You presume to make all these declarations of affection when we know nothing of one another. I think you are simply a sexually repressed child.”
The statement was not true, and Calis wanted Kilik to know this—but he couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled to his lips at Kilik’s choice of insult. How cute. “A sexually repressed child?” Calis echoed. “I assure you that if I wanted to declare affections to anyone that there are many women who would be easier targets.”
“None that you get the glorious opportunity to chase,” Kilik said emphatically.
“You know nothing of court if you think that none of the women there offer up a suitable chance for chasing.” There was a flash of remembrance in those blue eyes, and then Kilik looked away.
Calis thought, and he chose his next words with precision. “Though, none of the women in court have the kind, selfless nature that you seem to possess. Nor do any of them contain your bravery and wit, or the very unique way you seem to have of making everything you do frustratingly endearing,” Calis ticked off his reasons solemnly, as if Kilik had caught him in the act of something that he shouldn’t do.
Another flash in those blue eyes, and this one was of very serious irritation. He glared away. “You don’t know me well enough to assume that I have any of those qualities. You see only what you want to see.”
“I see a young man with an injured leg, who came here knowing it would rain to collect funds to support a family that isn’t his. I see a man who wants to keep his promise of venturing into the rain again to a foolish young girl who doesn’t know that he is still injured. I see a man who refused to give up purchased items to nobles, knowing that he would be beaten or worse for it, because he worried that the person who requested them would want for something.” Calis didn’t even need to cite the fact that Kilik put on a mask and risked his life for people that he didn’t know every sun. What he’d said was enough.
The blue eyes flickered with reluctance. They darted about the room, trying to find anything that would distract him from what had just been said. Calis had just given him irrefutable proof that he was, to some extent, desirable. “And that makes you… affectionate towards me?”
“Yes,” Calis answered simply. “I apologize if that is inconvenient.”
“You are odd, your highness. You dress up as a commoner, avoid balls in your honor, and you have dirtied your hands to help people many times. I don’t want to trust you for what you are, as it conflicts with everything a Tsrali is.” Then, Kilik flushed. “Though, I suppose that is unfair of me. I have never seen you until recently, and every time you have helped me in some way.”
“My brother has effectively balanced that out, I would wager,” Calis answered. Kilik was still looking away, and Calis moved his hand to the boy’s cheek, bringing their eyes into one another. “I say this truthfully, Kilik. If you want me to leave you alone, I will not bother you anymore. If you are afraid of me, then tell me, and I will go. I will not bother you again.”
The moment was tense, and Calis thought he felt Kilik trembling just slightly under the tips of his fingers. “I…” Kilik choked. “Go, then. Go. I don’t want… I don’t want you here. I can’t do this.” The words were simple, though they did seem to cause Kilik a great deal of pain to say. His eyes flickered with steely resolve, though.
Calis closed his eyes, determined to keep good on his promise. After all, their relationship was the nonsense of fairy tales, he told himself. Pain lanced through him, though, and his heart twisted and felt as though it might implode on itself. He stood abruptly. “I under
stand,” he said, and tried to keep his voice steady. “I will never be able to express to you the pleasure of meeting you, Kilik.”
The boy was uncertain, and Calis knew that, but he wasn’t about to take advantage of it. All he’d have to do, he thought, was say the right amount of charming words—and Kilik would break, telling him that he wanted him to stay. But, no, he would not do that—he wanted Kilik only if Kilik wanted him with no pushing. “Goodbye,” he said, without dramatics.
With a firm resolve of his own, Calis turned to the tavern door. The walk back through the rain was not going to be enjoyable, he thought. It would certainly match the way he felt. He hadn’t thought his heart capable of feeling so much—of feeling so raw, as if someone had beaten it and ground it over sand.
Though, a moment before he pushed the door to the tavern open, a frantic voice pierced his determined resolution. “W-wait,” Kilik cried. Calis knew from the distance of the voice that Kilik had gotten to his feet. “I trust you. I… don’t want you… to go.”
Calis turned with a curious expression. He worked to keep a premature smile from his lips. “Are you certain, Kilik?”
“I think, I mean… yes. Yes, I am sure.”
For a few moments, Calis kept standing at the door. He didn’t know whether or not he should return. After all, Kilik had told him to leave. He had no way of knowing that Kilik hadn’t simply changed his mind because he didn’t possess the ability to be so unkind. “Come back,” Kilik whimpered. “You are the only person who… I…” He paused, fighting the words. “Please.”
There was certainly no way that Calis could leave if Kilik had given himself over to begging. There was sincerity in those blue eyes, though. Kilik was afraid, but he believed in the choice he was making. Calis turned around fully and took a few steps back into the tavern. He would stay, he thought, if only to figure out the end of that sentence. That would be his official reason, and he wouldn’t mention that Kilik’s whimpered words were the saddest, most heart-wrenching sounds he’d ever heard. “Why the change of heart?” Calis asked irreverently.
“You were going to leave,” Kilik said. “You were going to leave because you thought I didn’t want you here. That was… you are… I have never had to deal with someone like you, your highness.”
“Calis.” Calis ventured.
“We’ll get there,” Kilik mumbled. “The rain’s stopped,” he pointed out. “I am going to get Alyx’s ribbon and bread. Would you like to come with me?”
“I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”
They left the tavern, Calis letting Kilik walk a few paces in front of him. The boy was right about the rain, though the gray sky told that there may be more to come. Calis made a note to get Kilik back to his house before that happened. They headed towards the market in silence, more comfortable than it had been that sun on the horse.
Kilik walked with the most unperceivable of limps. The only reason Calis was able to distinguish that he was limping was the occasional blaze of pain in the blue irises. Kilik’s eyes, Calis had quickly determined, told more about him than should ever be readily available. “Why are you watching me so intensely?” Kilik asked.
“You are limping,” Calis answered honestly. He knew better than to extend his help to Kilik, though, as it would be rebuked—and Kilik would certainly get that indignant expression that he wore so charmingly.
There was a momentary pause in their walking as Kilik seemed to suffer some internal turmoil. “Is it obvious?” he asked miserably.
“I hardly think that is relevant,” Calis snapped, “the imperative fact is that you are making your injury worse. Or, at the very least, you are slowing down your recovery. But no, it isn’t obvious.” His words were dry, and he had a distinct feeling that Kilik would ignore all words, save the last ones.
To Calis’s surprise, though, Kilik did not ignore the rest of the statement. His curious eyes watched Calis carefully as they walked. “You do not behave very much like a noble,” he said, in a hushed voice. “To expend so much effort on watching a commoner.”
“You are more than a simple commoner in my mind,” Calis answered. The result of this statement was a nearly imperceptible grunt from Kilik.
“Then, I suppose it is alright for me to tell you that you are more than an esteemed noble and prince in mine.” The grin that took hold of Calis’s features at this statement obviously took Kilik by surprise, but rather than returning it, the boy looked away. There was very clearly more to Kilik than what met the eye.
They stopped at a newly reopened stall, one that had been closed down due to the inclement weather. “Then what am I to you?” Calis asked probingly. As expected, Kilik ignored him and focused on paying for one yellow and one blue ribbon. The lady was happy for the business so soon after the rain.
Calis told himself that he couldn’t expect to be too much to Kilik, as they had only met recently. They really didn’t know much about one another, Calis realized, and yet he felt closer to Kilik than anyone else—with the exception of Lee, possibly. But Kilik held so much more for Calis than Lee ever had—so much more than anyone had. “You make me nervous,” Kilik informed him brusquely.
“And you me,” Calis returned. To say that he was nervous in Kilik’s presence was an incredible understatement. The feelings that Kilik brought him were unfamiliar, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Calis knew they were forbidden. “Why does Alyx send you on errands to pick up her silly clothing?”
“I don’t like Alyx coming into the market by herself,” Kilik answered sullenly. “Alyx is pretty.” That pang of jealousy was unexpected, and Calis found himself wrestling with it as he tried to listen to the rest of Kilik’s statement. “Nobles target young women in the market. I prefer to get her belongings for her, and I let her believe that she is making me. If she knew I was being considerate, she’d never let me handle her shopping.”
Calis’s voice was soft when he spoke. The jealousy had evaporated at the gentleness of Kilik’s tone. “But they target you too. You speak as though you are a large, burly man. You are not—you are small, and that makes you a target as well. And you are attractive.”
At once, red had spread across Kilik’s cheeks. Surely, he was not so taken aback by being called attractive. Though, he certainly appeared to be for a few moments before he collected himself. “I am a male, and that makes me less of one—a target, I mean.”
“How frequently would you say that you have been singled out when you were alone in the market?” Calis asked, more demanding than he’d meant to sound, but he wanted a direct answer. He had a feeling he wouldn’t like it, either.
Kilik scoffed as they moved on from the ribbon stall. A few more people had made their way back into the market area, discovering that the rain had subsided. Calis wondered idly if Lee had stayed at Juliet’s, or whether he had simply walked Katt back there. “You think I keep up with it?” Kilik sneered.
“Many times, then,” Calis said. Another flash of anger threatened to overtake Calis for a moment as he thought back on all the nobles that he’d been forced to eat dinner with—most of which had probably terrorized Kilik in one way or another.
But Kilik was not defenseless, Calis told himself. Yet, when he looked at the small individual before him, he couldn’t help but feel like Kilik was. That there was something as fragile as glass about the young man—that he had never been properly tended to, and because of that, he never expected to be tended to at all. “More times than Alyx has, probably,” he said, “and I consider that a good thing.”
Calis thought that he might be spending even more time in Dark District, now. Lady Avyon crossed his mind briefly, and the way that she had declared so openly that she knew he didn’t intend to marry her. The thought was profound that a noblewoman could understand, and he had not ruled out some other intention on her part—but there was nothing either of them could do about being forced to spend time with each other. Calis thought of it distastefully, despite knowing how kind the w
oman had tried to be this morning.
Why should he waste time with someone like her, when someone like Kilik was putting himself at risk daily for others? Involuntarily, Calis’s hand balled into a fist. They were at the bread stand, and Kilik was diligently trading for it. Calis watched him, admiring every tiny movement that the boy made. His eyes were framed by longer lashes than most men, and his features were delicate—pleasing to look, or stare, at.
The tan of his skin was more than a product of the sun, and the contrast with his blue eyes was fascinating. The lithe form spent no more energy on any single task than was absolutely necessary. Graceful in every single movement, and perhaps one of the only reasons his limp was noticeable. Once the trade was concluded, Kilik stepped back and frowned. “You stare unabashedly.”
“I don’t usually,” Calis apologized. “I’m sorry.” Then, regaining his composure, Calis spoke more easily. “If you are finished, I think you ought to return home. The rain will come again soon.”
Kilik blinked a few times at him, as though he wasn’t sure if Calis had actually turned away from the subject so quickly. “I—alright. I am finished.”
“I’d like to ensure that you get there safely, if that’s alright,” Calis offered cautiously.
“Ah, me?” Kilik asked, suddenly entirely confused by the situation. His eyes watched Calis with an obvious lack of understanding.
There was suddenly a rather deadpan expression on the prince’s face. “Ah, I was not talking about Alyx, no,” he said sardonically.
This seemed to make Kilik more angry than confused. His head snapped to the side, as though Calis had struck him. “You don’t need to make sure that I get home.”
“I want to,” Calis persisted. He didn’t understand why everything with this young man was a battle, or rather, everything that was good for him turned into a battle. Kilik appeared to have some aversion to keeping himself safe—or he did if it inconvenienced anyone else in the slightest of ways.