The Swithin Chronicles 3: The Comet Cometh

by Sharon Maria Bidwell

  “So you want me to step aside?”

  Mairtin seemed to consider it. “One day perhaps. Right now, I need time, and you are going to give it to me.”

  “You will truly return Uly to me?”

  “If you behave. Even if I don’t, even if I were to kill him, you would have to still weigh up what I have said.”

  “You kill him, and I don’t have to accuse you. I could kill you one night while you rest in your bed.”

  “You could, but I intend to be vigilant. Ryanac is dead, and he’s the only one I would have worried about besides you.”

  Markis almost smirked. In a way, it was a compliment to his Sonndre.

  “With him gone, you are the only true threat to me, and I plan to keep track of where you are at all times.”

  “All this to be king.”

  “No. All this to be Shavar. You’re strong, but Stargazer believes one can learn that strength as well as inherit it. The book will give me the edge. Still, I have no desire to control the petty squabbles of the council or hear petitions. Perhaps in time we can put this behind us. Perhaps we can rule together.”

  Was Mairtin that arrogant to believe this drivel? “To do what? I take it you mean to leave it to me to hear all the petty petitions while you wield the power.”

  “There are lands to be conquered.”

  “We already control more than half of the natural world. The only army with a hope of opposing us is the Azulites, and that would kill so many on either side it would breed disease and famine. Neither of our nations wants this. What more could you possibly want that you don’t already have?”

  “I want the comet.”

  It felt as though someone had doused him with cold water. His face gave away nothing, but it didn’t have to.

  “I can see you understand me.” Mairtin paced away, then back again. “They give us lessons and tell us to tame the comet, to control it, and all the time they are lying. The comet twists us and bends us, makes us bleed. We use it but we never truly own it.”

  Despite his anger and disgust, Markis couldn’t help feeling a certain kinship born out of understanding. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

  “What other way could it be?”

  “You can exist alongside it.” He had never given it words before, but ever since that night when Ryanac had made him break his vow of celibacy back in Uly’s homeland, and he had gone on to love Uly as a result, that was how it had been. The comet no longer twisted him as though at its whim. It played alongside him, not with him as the plaything. It still had its way with him sometimes, but those moments lessened each day.

  “I don’t want to exist with it. I want to rule it.”

  “Why?” The question seemed to take his brother by surprise. Mairtin paused, considering, and for one bright, brief moment, hope stirred within Markis. Then he watched his brother shake his head.

  “Stargazer is right. You are weak.” Mairtin stepped to his side. “You’ll do as I say, or I’ll kill Uly just to spite you and do this the long, hard way. I’ll take our nation into war just to fuck you over. Don’t doubt it. Be a good boy, and just maybe I’ll give Uly back to you, but either way, he’s not yours anymore. I can kill him from a distance, just you remember that.”

  Markis opened his mouth to ask what he meant, but Mairtin strode to the door. “The book tonight, Markis, or Uly won’t just die. I’ll make sure he dies cursing your name.” He opened the door and left Markis to his thoughts.

  Kill Uly from a distance? What did he mean? If that were true, it changed things. Mairtin could force Markis to rule in name only, until such a time as he could steal Markis’s power and add it to his own. These secrets had to lie in the book. Markis held no doubts that Mairtin still intended to have his power or kill him and take it that way. If that happened, what of Kilan? Mairtin being able to hand Uly back to Markis and yet still kill him… If Mairtin could do that, what would he do if he found out about the rescue? Markis looked towards the window. He wouldn’t know what had happened for a few hours yet, and the rescue was already under way. He could do nothing to stop it.

  * * * * *

  Thump. Uly opened his eyes as the familiar patter of falling soil quickly followed the noise. He coughed and blinked. It was uncomfortable standing like this, but his bonds restrained him so that he had no fear of falling. Even slumped, the collar wouldn’t choke him, just be damned uncomfortable. He had managed to sleep a little, although the naps were intermittent and of varying lengths. He longed for his bed. No. He longed for Markis’s bed.

  It would just be him and Markis now, and he should have felt glad about that, but he couldn’t. Ryanac loved the same person Uly loved. Ryanac had cared for him also, more perhaps than Uly had ever accepted or realised until recently. Uly feared what was going to happen to him. He feared for Markis, and what might become of them, but right now grief overshadowed those things. Uly missed the big man.

  Fingers gently patted his face. He blinked, opening his eyes, not aware until that moment that he had closed them.

  “You can stop crying. Now keep still.”

  He didn’t believe in phantoms.

  “What?” The other man sounded amused.

  Uly mumbled aloud. “I said I don’t believe in phantoms.”

  “Neither do I. I guess that’s a good thing. Keep still.” Those so-dark eyes stared at him, and a large hand held his face while Ryanac worked what looked like far too large a blade between his neck and the collar. It pulled at his neck, hurting as the blade sliced the leather, but Uly gritted his teeth and bore the pain. He sighed as the leather parted, and he could move his head. Ryanac crouched in front of him. Apparently, the guard had chosen the most uncomfortable restraint first, and now he was going to move on to freeing Uly’s legs and his arms. Uly understood why. No longer completely pinned, his muscles were reacting. He didn’t even think he would be able to walk.

  “Are you real?”

  He heard that low, familiar chuckle. His groin was close to Ryanac’s face, and for some reason, he felt no surprise when Ryanac lifted the tunic and gave his naked cock a quick kiss. His captors hadn’t bothered to pull up his pants, let alone tuck him in.

  “Real enough for you?”

  “No. I want more than that.”

  The big man’s lips twitched. He stood up, moving to Uly’s arms at last. “I’m sorry we had to make you think I was dead.”

  “You wanted someone to think so, obviously.” His kidnappers had given him water and a little bread, but his voice still croaked. Ryanac set him free, and Uly tried to move, but he stumbled instead. His limbs wouldn’t obey him. Ryanac looped an arm around him and practically tucked Uly under his arm to carry him.

  “Let’s get you out of here.”

  “What about…?” He let the sentence trail away as Ryanac’s gaze slid his way.

  “Maybe when we reach the top, you shouldn’t look.”

  Whatever carnage lay in wait, it must have occurred quietly. Uly hadn’t heard a struggle, nothing he wouldn’t have assumed to be more than natural movement, though for some reason he could all too easily imagine the bloodshed. Uly shook his head. “You said you would come for me, and here you are. I don’t care what you did. I only care that you’re alive.”

  In that moment, Ryanac’s grin was the most beautiful sight in the world.

  Chapter Nineteen

  He had killed them. He had killed them all.

  Despite his brave words, Uly had been tempted to do as Ryanac said, not to look. He couldn’t do that. Ryanac had kept his word so the least Uly could do was keep his. He wouldn’t fear the man or feel disgust for anything he did. If there was one thing he had learned about Ryanac, it was that he did no more than he needed to, but no less. Uly hadn’t asked his captors to kidnap him. He had the least respect for that form of terrorism. They had threatened the person he loved by using his physical and emotional safety as blackmail. These men deserved retribution. Even so, to see a dozen men lying still and silent
unnerved him. Ryanac and Harton had done all this.

  A woman he had never seen before, who they called Meira, accompanied them to see if he was well. She also watched over Ryanac as though she were his mother because he was still recovering. Uly hadn’t noticed, but once she mentioned it, he detected the dark shadows around Ryanac’s eyes, the odd pallor of his skin. Regarding the dead men, Uly had expected blood and gore. There was a little blood only. They had dispatched these men, swiftly, noiselessly. That such large men could drift through the forest like spirits and deal out such a silent end was unsettling. Uly had known violence in his life, but it had always been messy, involving scuffles, movement, and noise.

  By the time they helped him onto a horse, it was not solely his ordeal that made his actions slow. His limbs were numb and so was his mind. In the end, Meira had said she would share a horse with him until he felt stronger. It made sense. Although Meira was far from small, she weighed less than Harton or Ryanac. Even a Swithin steed could not carry one of Ryanac’s size plus another person for long. Uly balked at the idea of anyone getting close enough to smell him. He’d spent almost three days strapped to a post, and more than his spirit was soiled, but none of them seemed to care. He had begun the journey back to Markis with Meira’s arms wrapped around him, but his gaze had been for Ryanac alone. Ryanac had killed all the men at the ruins…except one. The Kita lay trussed over the back of one of the man’s own horses. Harnessed to the saddle, he could not fall, but the ride was surely a test of endurance. Likewise, Tihea sat bound to another steed, in a more comfortable position, though gagged. Uly gave a brief thought as to her future.

  A third of the way home, Uly had felt strong enough to carry on unaided. Meira had given him something bitter to drink, and though this seemed unkind for one who was thirsty, it helped restore him. As they stopped for a short break, he finally drank his fill of water. He gulped it down, certain it would make him sick, yet unable to stop. Whatever Meira had given him had done its work. The water gushed down his throat, out of his mouth, ran down his neck to soak his clothes, and still he glugged it. As the water ran over his chin and chilled his neck, Uly closed his eyes in a brief moment of personal pain. A couple of days ago, the water would have soaked his hair. Almost as though he had known what Uly was thinking, Ryanac reached out and fingered the ragged ends of his hair.

  “It will grow,” he said gently. “You know what it reminds me of, and what it will remind Markis of?”

  Uly shook his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “The night we found you. The night our lives changed.”

  Uly shook his head. “You changed Markis’s life. You made him give in to desire.” He had learned that Markis had finally allowed Ryanac into his bed after so many years of abstinence. A couple of days later, Markis had taken Uly to his bed.

  “You think I never tried previously? Oh no, my sweet young man. If it weren’t for you, he would never have given in. He gave in to me because ultimately he wanted you. In doing so, we found each other again, but then we had never really lost each other. Circumstances kept us separated in body if not heart. You closed that final gap. You gave him back to me.”

  “So you got what you wanted, but he still sent you here to find me.”

  Those dark eyes studied him. “You still doubt my promise? You doubt I meant it?”

  Fear and guilt made Uly turn aside. One of those so large hands cupped his face and turned him back.

  “Are you always going to doubt us? Or is it just me you doubt? Your death would break something inside my prince, but for a long time now, I have known it would also break something inside me. Look at me and tell me you don’t feel the same. Tell me you could bear to lose one of us.”

  “King.”

  “What?”

  “You called him a prince. He’s now a king.”

  Those lips twitched and then drew into a lazy smile. “He’s my prince, and he’ll always be my prince to me. And you’re avoiding my question.”

  Uly struggled with what little remained of his dignity, but still his tears came on a tide of emotions that crumpled his face. “I’m being selfish. Something is bothering me, but it’s a selfish something, and it doesn’t matter. Not really. I thought you were dead,” Uly managed to say as Ryanac opened his mouth, perhaps to interrogate, and then the sobs overtook him. Those big arms engulfed him, and he pressed his face into Ryanac’s warmth, into the darkness of his body, breathing in his scent, forgetting the irrational shame of desperately needing a bath. No way did he smell of spring grass but, of course, Ryanac didn’t care. The others had to have heard and they needed to get back to the palace, but for a few minutes Uly cried, and they let him.

  Slowly, his crying eased. “Why?” he murmured, still clinging tight to Ryanac’s warmth. “Why so often do we realise what we have only when we’re close to losing it?”

  Ryanac gave forth a soft chuckle. “That’s human nature, I believe. But now you know, and you haven’t lost me.”

  Words to express his feelings escaped his grasp. Uly merely clung, his fingers pressing, nails digging in such a way that could only be painful, and Ryanac let him. They needed to continue homeward, but for a few seconds, Uly needed to feel the reality of the man holding him more than he needed to breathe. Still, he struggled for composure. He longed to get back to the palace. He longed to see Antal and Tressa. He longed for their hugs and kisses. He longed for more water. He needed food, a wash, and sleep, and he didn’t even know in which order. Most of all, he needed Markis, but that was not to be.

  * * * * *

  “He knew the moment you returned, but he can’t come right now.” Antal stood there with an almost apologetic look on his face. The news made Tressa frown. Ryanac looked troubled. Harton and Meira appeared calm. So, too, outwardly did Antal, but Uly could recognise the signs of agitation in the other man. Antal was his Sonndre, his protector. He probably believed he had failed in his duty. Uly would have to knock that idea out of him, maybe quite literally, but right now he was too tired. Of all of them, only Meira’s serenity seemed genuine. She handed him a cup with a green liquid in it. He eyed it dubiously.

  “I don’t think you are going to get much chance to rest. This will keep you on your feet. I can give you more, but eventually you will need sleep.”

  The very idea that she would give him such a thing made the hair prickle on the back of his neck. Having washed and eaten a small meal, Uly longed for bed. She might well be calm, but Meira wanted him awake and alert when a healer should prescribe rest. That did not bode well. He drank the concoction down without further hesitation, blinking in surprise when the taste did not make him immediately try to spit. It tasted as green as it looked, as though he were chewing grass, but he could cope with the flavour. The true torture was the knowledge that Markis was a few corridors away, and he could not see him. Judging by the look on Ryanac’s face, the big man suffered this as much, if not more.

  Tressa stood up. “I should make an appearance, and I will stop by to see Markis.” She turned her head to Antal as she moved towards the door, but he just stood there. “Antal, you must come with me. Uly has Ryanac. Markis will have Harton now he is back.”

  It made the most sense. Harton would be an obvious choice to replace Ryanac until Markis appointed a new Sonndre. Everyone still believed Ryanac dead and Uly kidnapped. To maintain that appearance, Antal would have no one to guard but Tressa. The young guard clearly knew this, but his eyes and the set of his jaw said he didn’t have to like it. One of the first things he had done was to hand Uly back the weapons he’d had to discard the other day. The reaper blade was a constant companion now. Uly stood up and grasped the young man’s arm as he made to move by. “Serve me by keeping her safe,” Uly said. Antal nodded and left.

  “That was a good thing you just did.” Ryanac’s quiet tone was the very voice of reason.

  “Even though he knows that out of any of us, Tressa is the least under threat right now?”

&
nbsp; “Even though. You reminded him that people are out to get us and in that none of us are safe.”

  Uly sniggered. “So loving someone really does make you weak.”

  “The strength it gives us outweighs the weaknesses.”

  Uly turned his head to look at Ryanac. “I never said I would have it any other way.”

  * * * * *

  They had decided the best place for Uly and Ryanac to hide was in Uly’s room. Meira had stayed in the main part of the suite, and she would have raised an alarm. Still, Markis remembered to knock before opening the door. He had no wish to have Ryanac half strangle him before the man realised who he was choking. With the shutters closed and the drapes drawn, he met perpetual twilight. The moment Uly caught sight of Markis, he flung himself from the bed, across the room, and into Markis’s arms.

  Markis held him, feeling the heat of Uly’s face against his, the hot tears. His fingers trailed up from the nape of Uly’s neck to the back of his head. Uly stiffened in his arms as he did, but Markis still entwined his fingers in the now short hair. For a while, there was only silence; they needed no words.

  “Are you all right?” Markis pushed Uly back so he could see his face.

  “I was so thirsty,” Uly said.

  “I know.”

  “It wasn’t a dream, then.”

  “No. Or think of it as a dream I sent your way.” Despite everything, he couldn’t help smiling at the sight of those cool grey eyes. “Is there anything else? Did they hurt you?”

  Uly sniffed. “They wouldn’t let me clean my teeth,” he whispered.

  Markis blinked, and then glanced at Ryanac. The big man struggled with his expression, but the smile won out. He laughed gently. Markis looked back at Uly’s face to see those grey eyes twinkling with mirth. “Why, you…” he said, then said no more as he brought their lips together in a kiss.

  * * * * *

  “You killed them all?”