Divided

by Rae Brooks

  “Not as much as they have done for me,” Kilik contested. Calis was fairly certain that estimate was biased and would be contradicted by any of the other people who lived in the household with him.

  Calis took a breath, and even after the little conversation, felt desire creeping up into his body—still thinking about ripping off Kilik’s clothing. “You are very odd, Kilik. You do very much for people, and yet… you are at a disconnect. You don’t seem to understand the very important concept of self-preservation.”

  “I do,” Kilik said weakly.

  “You don’t,” Calis countered, “and I wish you did.”

  Not liking where the conversation was headed apparently, Kilik changed the course, without bothering to explain why. “Did you really worry about it?” he asked quietly, “did you really worry that I was only spending time with you because I thought I had to?”

  “I did,” Calis answered easily, “I worry about everything when it comes to you, it seems.”

  Kilik almost smiled, and then he looked away. “Why?”

  “Not such an absurd worry, is it?” Calis asked thoughtfully. “I am, after all, the prince. The crown prince, no less. Is it really so ridiculous to think that someone might pretend to like my company?”

  Kilik laughed outright, and then he shook his head. “Yes, it is. Firstly, and more generally, you are… tall, blond, and all women squeal and fall over themselves when you are in the room, or even mentioned. And don’t even act like you aren’t aware of how charming you are,” he said dryly. “Secondly, and more specifically to me, why would I feel the need to do that? I am not… I cannot actually obtain your wealth or position.”

  Calis stared at Kilik quietly. His blue-green eyes shimmered with yearning, to have and to understand. Kilik seemed sad in that moment, and Calis wanted to make him happy. “There is no one in the world that everyone finds attractive,” he answered softly. “Though, I admit I’m having trouble seeing how anyone could think you weren’t—but lots of people don’t want charisma. Charisma was something ground into me from the time I was a child, and I know a few commoners would find it repellant. As for you, I wasn’t worried that you wanted to obtain my position—I was worried that you wouldn’t reject me because you didn’t want to be rude, not on any worry of punishment—but because you simply don’t like making others unhappy.”

  A quiet laugh was the only response for a few moments as they walked. Calis let out a breath as they entered the first trees of the small forest. “I don’t, that is, I don’t like making others unhappy. But, I feel like whatever this is between us has just as much chance to end with both of us unhappy as if we hadn’t done this. So, there wasn’t any need to worry about that.”

  Calis paused for a moment, and a very profound thought made its way into his mind. “Do you, Kilik? Do you truly believe that this could make me unhappy?”

  A pause. Just a long enough pause for Calis to know that Kilik didn’t, in fact, think that Calis might end up unhappy at the end of this. No, Kilik would never do anything to threaten another person—only to threaten himself. If only he knew. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

  Listening to that voice, a frightening thought made its way into Calis’s mind. He quickly dismissed it, for the repercussions of it would be vast—and he should not be feeling it at all. “Fair enough, Kilik. I won’t try to convince you otherwise, lest you leave.”

  “You haven’t said much about your family,” Kilik said weakly. “N-not that you have to.”

  Calis smiled and then shook his head. “Why is it that everything you say or do is so ludicrously endearing?”

  Naturally, that very slight red tint returned to Kilik’s cheeks. “What?”

  Rather than elaborating on his statement, Calis decided to oblige the request. “My family is… well… I don’t… much care for my family. My mother is… motherly enough. You know enough about Tareth to know that no sane person could ever like him, and my father… is, in short, a monster.”

  Kilik was thinking again, which meant that he wasn’t looking at Calis. He was hyper focused on the path before him—or he seemed to be as they walked. “Why do you sound so distant? They are your family, surely you don’t feel so little for them?”

  The words should have felt accusatory, as Kilik seemed rather surprised at Calis’s lack of family life, but oddly enough, they didn’t. They felt curious, and somehow worried. “My family dinners consist of cowering while my father picks and chooses the intervals that he wants to talk. The few times I’ve expressed opinions in front of him—he openly humiliates me. Though, that’s a matter for debate, as most of those times, I was right. Still, he made a fool out of me in his own way.”

  Calis was sure that he’d already said too much about his family, but for some reason, in this clearing, with the serenity reigning down on him—and Kilik, in all his innocent wonder, standing nearby—Calis kept going. “Then, there is how he treats Tareth. I am not a fan of Tareth, and I have made an effort to not be involved in my brother’s life.” Though, their recent exchange had left Calis feeling a little guilty, if satisfied. “My father tried to create a wedge between my brother and I from the start. He insults Tareth at every turn, and even while Tareth attempts to appease Father, and I show no interest—he pits us against one another and makes me look like the ideal son.”

  Kilik seemed to be thinking about something, though he was very clearly listening with intent to every word Calis spoke. His eyes were paler with the light of the moon reflecting off of them, and the emotions in them were even easier to read. Kilik was concerned. “The ideal son?” he asked, and his voice sounded distant.

  “Yes, my father pretends that everything I touch turns to gold. I will not go as far as to say that I am not charismatic, and what I did in Dokak was nothing short of a miracle, but I have made my fair share of mistakes. I show disinterest in court, and Tareth attempted to ridicule me for it—but my father said that I ought to be behaving that way, that having feelings for someone would hinder the ultimate goal of power.” Calis scoffed, jerking his head away and willing his mouth to stop talking. This didn’t need to continue, and now Kilik knew more about court than Calis wanted him to.

  The passage of silence sent a chill of worry through Calis, until he looked up to find the blue eyes regarding him with that same gentleness. “I am aware that nobles are not supposed to marry for feelings, but rather, position. But I have never heard of anyone discouraging feelings for your partner.”

  “Now you have,” Calis said blackly, “my father.” His fist clenched at the memory. What right had his father had to assert that? Had he only said it to drive Calis and Tareth further apart? No, he had meant it. “The sad part is, my father believes that. He’s already succeeded in driving Tareth and I so far apart that we will never be close. Now he need only say what he thinks. Tareth just lets him impose his will, I don’t.” Calis claimed not to, and yet, he hadn’t openly told Lavus that he would not marry Lady Avyon.

  Then again, doing so would only bring wrath down upon his, and possibly Kilik’s, head. He would have to wait for the right opportunity to refute the marriage. He would find that opportunity. “Why did Lavus want Tareth and yourself to be enemies?”

  “Because if we became close, then we might work together to conspire against him. He never said as much, obviously—but the servants, and other nobles, talked, and while Tareth might not be bright enough to make the conclusion, I was.” Tareth was far too absorbed in whatever it was he did to notice Lavus’s foolishness. He believed everything their father said, practically.

  “You ought to have tried to be friends with your brother,” Kilik whispered. The words were touched with a pang of such genuine sincerity that Calis almost regretted that he hadn’t worked just a little harder to be Tareth’s ally.

  Then, though, Calis laughed. “I did, Kilik. I tried very hard to close the gap between us. As time progressed, though, Tareth just pulled further and further away. He involved himself in things that
I wanted no part of. Even before I left for Dokak, he was coming into Dark District and making trouble.”

  This seemed to be something Kilik understood easily, after all, he and Tareth had more than a few run ins under their belts. “I saved a woman from him,” Kilik said softly. “She isn’t quite right, but she claims that he raped her. He kidnapped her off the street, and she claims that he raped her!” Kilik was in a frenzy at the idea.

  Calis had never heard of his brother raping anyone, and he was positively disgusted at the idea. Still, it didn’t seem that much of a stretch. Tareth was, after all, always close with women. He seemed absurdly close to all of them, and Calis knew that he took servants from Dark District when he claimed they had broken the law. Tareth was corrupt, to say the very least. “I would not discount your friend’s story,” Calis said. “I have no proof, but my brother is like my father in that he needs power to live. He gets none from Lavus, as my father has given it all to me—or is trying to, so he needs to find it elsewhere.”

  Kilik looked agitated as he looked at Calis. “You ought to make sure he isn’t!” he snapped. That would have been nearly impossible, as Tareth may have been unobservant, but he wasn’t so stupid as to air that he had to resort to commoners for his sexual needs.

  Still, those blue eyes were rather difficult to resist. “I will see what I can do,” Calis said. “On that note, I wanted to mention…” He hadn’t known when he’d find the right time to tell Kilik this, but now seemed as good of a time as any. After all, the sooner the young man was made aware—the sooner he could take advantage of it. “My brother’s sun of birth was a little over a cycle ago.”

  Kilik didn’t seem to understand how this affected him. For a singular moment, Calis thought that Kilik might think Calis meant for him to give Tareth a gift. Now that was a comical thought. “Did you get him a gift?” Kilik ventured.

  “Ah, well, yes,” Calis said. He’d never purchased a gift for his brother before that sun—not for many years. Though, the gift he’d given recently had not been entirely straightforward. It had been so golden and so shiny that Tareth immediately felt empowered in its presence, as Calis had wanted. “I got him a golden amulet, with a ruby in the center.”

  Once again, Kilik seemed entirely unsure where this was going. This must have all seemed rather random to him. “That was nice.”

  Calis laughed a little at Kilik’s forced civility. “Not really. The ruby is a trigger. If pressed and pulled down just slightly, the golden chain will release several tiny pinpricks, and his neck will feel like it is being bitten by several tiny insects—lots of tiny spikes. Then,” he thought amusedly of Lee’s rigging of the amulet, “when the wearer yanks the necklace off, the chain holding the clasp will break, and once that happens, there is a liquid inside of it that will spray outwards as a mist, and destroy the eyes of anyone who looks at it.”

  The words seemed rather cruel, and Kilik’s widening eyes were further confirmation that the gift had been a little more vicious than intended. Calis couldn’t bring himself to regret it, though, and so he continued before Kilik could question. “I wanted it to be there. In case he ever… in case… you two were ever alone, and I couldn’t help you.” To think too seriously about it would be to possess Calis to murder his brother now.

  Surely there would never be a use for the trigger, but with Kilik, Calis found that he’d risk his brother going blind in an accident to ensure that Kilik was not hurt in any way. “Y-you gave him that—to protect me?” Kilik sounded awed.

  “Ah, yes,” Calis answered awkwardly.

  “That was absurd! What if it triggers prematurely? You’d blind your brother for no reason!”

  “I realize that,” Calis admitted guiltily, “but I’d prefer that than to know you were forced into some position with him… I just… I can’t let anything happen to you. You don’t understand how agonizing that would be for me.”

  “You are…” Kilik was staring at him as if Calis had just announced that he was not of this world. The gift had been unruly, but necessary. Calis had been so preoccupied with Kilik’s safety lately that everything related to it. Imagine, a boy that he’d only met a few cycles ago, having this much effect on what he did and thought! “That was unnecessary! You would risk that…”

  Calis let out a long breath. He hadn’t expected Kilik to take the news well, though he’d expected a larger time frame between when he’d given the gift and when he told Kilik of it. Then again, there was a sense of relief at the fact that Kilik would have that extra defense. “I would risk much more than that.”

  “You would be labeled treasonous!”

  “Possibly,” Calis acknowledged. Though, he wasn’t sure how Lavus would react to Calis so deliberately sabotaging Tareth. Surely, he couldn’t have said that was alright. Surely, Calis would be punished for the deed. If nothing else, he would be punished by Claudia. “Promise me you’ll remember it, if you ever need it—and I pray that you don’t.”

  “I-I promise,” Kilik said weakly. He was very clearly unsure what else he could say. He couldn’t very well refuse the offer when Calis had already put himself at risk. Besides, Tareth had more than earned this punishment.

  Calis quirked an eyebrow. “What happened to the boy a few moments ago telling me that I ought to ensure that Tareth wasn’t hurting anyone?”

  Kilik let out a breath of his own and looked away. “Well, I didn’t mean in such a violent fashion. And I am the only one who knows about it. You were only looking to protect me—no one else.” Kilik wavered on the last word, as if he’d just grasped what he was saying and was profoundly struck by it.

  “Forgive me, but I find that you are significantly more important to me than the average citizen of Telandus.” They paused then, before a tree with particularly low hanging branches—a willow. The leaves covered the area behind the tree, though a soft blue hue could be seen from the other side. Calis grinned at the sight, as he knew precisely what it was. “Oh, we’re here,” he said.

  “What is—”

  Kilik was appropriately silenced as Calis pulled the hanging branches to the side to reveal their destination. The place was a meadow, and in the sun, it looked like little more than just that. However, this particular meadow was decorated with blue and white flowers, none of which Calis knew the name and all of which glowed in the dark.

  The meadow was already alight with the soft, pale blue of the flowers, mixed with the fluorescent whites. The pale moonlight had been falling down through the trees on their journey, though it hadn’t been bright enough to change the dark blue of the sky. But here, the light fell in cascades through the branches of the trees that surrounded the meadow, and the hue of the flowers gave the sky a royal blue tint.

  The grass was lower, decorated primarily with the glowing flowers, but the other parts were decorated with softer, white flowers—with powdery looking petals. Lastly was a small pond in the center, which reflected all the colors like a sparkle-imbued mirror, and at the right angle, the moon reflected a broken form of itself in the water.

  But rather than focusing on the surroundings, as Calis normally would have done, and had done every time he’d come here since he’d found the place—he watched Kilik. The blue reflected off Kilik’s eyes perfectly, and Calis was sure that if he’d been close enough, and at the right angle, that he could have seen the whole meadow reflected in them.

  For his part, Kilik’s lips were just barely parted, and his eyes were filled with wonder. They were wider than usual, and Calis found that it gave Kilik a very doe-like expression. Kilik was clearly trying to produce some sort of sound as he stared at the spectacle, but as the task proved too difficult, Calis grabbed the young man and pulled him into the meadow.

  Having the lights around them, rather than in front of them, enhanced the scene immensely. Finally, Kilik managed to work a gasp out of his still parted lips. Kilik seemed to fit into this place, as Calis had imagined he would. Rather than waiting for words, Calis grabbed Kilik by the waist
and pulled him into another kiss.

  Kilik returned it, and their lips remained locked on one another for some time. The passion built inside of Calis’s chest, but he remained steadfastly diligent, and when Kilik was ready—they pulled apart. “This is beautiful, Calis,” Kilik choked.

  “I thought you might like it. I used to come to this forest a lot as a boy, and one sun I stumbled across this. I was out extraordinarily late that moon and got chastised pretty severely, but I’d say it was worth it—especially now.” Calis said with a rather meaningful look in Kilik’s direction.

  Naturally, Kilik blushed instantly and then glared towards the ground as if it had upset him. Calis laughed at the visual. “It’s amazing. I’ve never seen anything like this place.”

  “I wanted to bring you here,” Calis said, suddenly feeling incredibly unsure of himself. “I know you are… not entirely comfortable with me. I know I am a Tsrali, and that makes me hard for you to trust—I don’t blame you for that. But, Kilik, lately you’re all I’ve thought about…”

  Surprisingly, Kilik took a rather brazen step towards Calis. His eyes were blazing with newfound bravery. This place seemed to have somehow removed one of the many barriers that guarded who he was. “I trust you more than you know,” he whispered. Kilik was very small, and his height only reached just below Calis’s eyes.

  They stared at one another, though, and Calis felt like he must have been shorter. The intensity in those blue eyes was overpowering, and in the sunless air—with the occasional sound of some nocturnal bird—the tension felt magnified. The subtle draw that pulled Calis to Kilik at every breath felt as though it was stronger than the force that held Calis to the ground.

  Very slowly, very gradually, Calis raised his hand to cup Kilik’s cheek in it. Then, just as slowly, he pulled the boy’s head up just enough so that their lips found one another again. The moment was fleeting, and the brush of their lips was nothing more than a breath of a moment—but the heat exchanged, the tension as their skin brushed, brought Calis’s heart to a pound.