And maybe he could even save it.
Chapter 21
“SO, THAT went a bit oddly, didn’t it?” Franken echoed thoughts Kristoff had been avoiding since Rowen left for home. Night had fallen, and they sat outside in darkness eased only by the light of the moon in a clear sky, drinking beers Franken had bought from a store run by a Darsean trader. The lack of sun did little to cool them down, and Kristoff still sweated, even without the heat of the usual sconces burning to light the paths. Kristoff wished he were in the far north, where people put ice in their drinks. Not even the Darseans had a way to transport ice, not in this weather.
“Benjamin did fine,” he said.
“You know I’m not talking about Benjamin,” Franken said.
Kristoff’s chair creaked beneath him, and he waved away an insect that buzzed past his ear. “What do you mean?”
Franken snorted. “Always so obtuse. I mean Rowen falling toward the island, not away. Not sweating when it’s probably ninety degrees in the sun or even reacting when he’s supposedly sensing the heat spell.”
“Are you saying he was lying?”
“No. I’m saying it’s odd.” Franken sipped his beer. “I do think he sensed something—there’s no other way to explain the typical student sway.” That was what they called it when a new student sensed a heat spell for the first time—they were always pushed away by the overwhelming sense of heat and usually ended up falling over. Kristoff had almost let Rowen hit the ground when his student had toppled in the opposite direction students sensing heat spells were supposed to fall. “But he fell toward the heat. He got goose bumps. It’s like he was moving away from the cold front, as though that was the thing that caused discomfort.” He shook his head, taking a swig from his beer and frowning at the little liquid that was left. “I’ve never seen that before.”
Kristoff hadn’t either, and he tried to hide the anxiety that crawled up his back by pretending to shoo away another bug. “Maybe he was lying about sensing anything and was just reacting to the ocean water. I think he’s afraid of it.”
“That doesn’t explain that little drawing of his. Where, I’ll remind you, the arrows were pointing the wrong way too.”
Kristoff grimaced. “He’s from the southwest regions, Franken!” He threw up his hands. “He’s most likely used to heat far worse than this. Maybe this heat spell is nothing to him, or maybe he did sense it, but not strongly enough for the usual reaction students have, and he was just afraid of the ocean!”
“So I take it you haven’t taught him to swim?”
Kristoff caught the change in tone—Franken was changing the subject, obviously aware he had upset Kristoff. He wished he could manage his own emotions better. He wished he knew what to do. If only Rowen could speak! He took another sip of beer, willing the creeping uncertainty to go away. “I’m going to teach him tomorrow.”
“That’s likely for the best. Scuttlebutt says they’re going to have you dispel the heat spell in two days, though. There’s another learning opportunity for him. And for the brat, I guess.”
“Right.” Kristoff sighed. “Do you think Rowen will learn faster since he’s older?”
“Trying to get rid of him already?” Franken said with a laugh.
Kristoff faked a smile, but the words hurt. He didn’t want to get rid of Rowen. He just wanted to understand him.
“You just need to relax, Kristoff,” Franken said. “I don’t let Benjamin’s little annoyances get to me, and you shouldn’t let the stress of being a mentor get to you. You need to find yourself a wom—er, a man, right?” He chuckled.
“If only it were that easy,” he said with a forced laugh. He hated when others brought up his relationships—or more accurately, the lack thereof. He had had a few partners here and there, but it was mostly with Darsean men who were only visiting the island briefly, dropping off supplies or sightseeing. He had never had a true long-term partner, and when he mostly hung around with people older than he was who were either in relationships or married, it was doubly difficult to put up with the knowledge that he was one of the few alone. Not to mention he didn’t know many other men on the island who were even interested in other men. People could put up with a lot when their options were limited on an island as small as this one, but no one could change their preferred gender.
“What about Volkes?” Franken said. “He’s nineteen or so, near your age, and he’s going to be a full Storm Lord soon.”
Kristoff pushed away thoughts of Rowen and shuddered. “And he’s disrespectful and annoying.”
Franken smirked. “Picky picky. We’ll have to work with him, at least. What about Rowen? I’ve seen him talking… er, well, not talking, but hanging out with Volkes. You know what I mean. You think he likes men too?”
Kristoff considered, then sipped his drink to hide a sudden rush of heat, embarrassed at how appealing the thought was. Rowen was his student and had so many challenges to overcome. He should never put pressure on him, even if he was startlingly attractive when Kristoff thought about it that way. “He’s my student, Franken!”
“And what, two years younger than you?” Franken said. “That’s nothing.”
“I have no clue if he likes men or not,” Kristoff countered.
“You could always ask him,” Franken said. “It’s a simple enough question.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“It’s improper,” Kristoff said, hoping the dark hid his blush. “I’ve only just begun teaching him. He doesn’t need the extra stress of thinking about such things.”
“He’s nineteen,” Franken said with a snort. “Believe me, he’s thinking about such things. And if he likes women or men, it’s something you might want to, er, discuss with him. Or write or whatever. Just tell him how dating works here. We don’t want any more people like the northerners trying to club women over the head and drag them away.” He laughed at his own joke about the primitiveness of the northern tribes.
Kristoff couldn’t even imagine how to broach that subject. He wished he knew what the people in Rowen’s village believed or followed about relationships. “I’m sure he’s fine,” he said.
“And you?” Franken raised an eyebrow, some of his joking tone gone. “I saw how you looked at him a few times today.”
Kristoff huffed even as a wave of anxiety went through him. He needed to control himself better. “Don’t be ridiculous. And what about you?” It was time to change the subject. “How is it going with Tabitha?”
Franken launched into an explanation of how wonderful Tabitha was, a skilled doctor, and Kristoff was happy to let him. He wished he could find someone too, but his entire life had been spent alone so far. He could put up with it, and the frustration, for a while longer. He had to focus on helping Rowen, not staring at him.
THE FOLLOWING day, Rowen met Kristoff outside the house at dawn. At least he was getting used to telling time. Or maybe it was too hot inside for the student to bear, but once again, Rowen didn’t seem to notice the sweltering heat. He stood straight and sweat-free, giving Kristoff a small, fleeting smile when he saw him walking down the path.
Kristoff wished he could look half as good. Even at dawn, the heat was building further, and he was already covered in sweat from just the walk. His body felt heavy, as though pushing through the soupy atmosphere, and the heat was adding pounds of effort to the smallest action. The ocean would be refreshing, and he could rest in the afternoon while Rowen took his lessons. “Let’s go, Rowen.”
The humidity was the worst, but it was also a comfort. This heat spell would be easy to dispel. Kristoff winced at the power of the sun when they left the cover of the tree line and took a sip from his water flask. Rowen glanced at him, then up, then gave a slight head tilt.
“Do you want some water?” Kristoff asked. He wondered if Rowen had a water flask.
Rowen paused, then shook his head. Kristoff was sure Rowen wanted to ask him something, but his student quickly gave up and continued walking.
The sce
nt of the ocean renewed some of Kristoff’s flagging energy. He had chosen a spot where the waves were calmer, where people usually took new students to learn about ocean currents. It was the perfect place for an anxious student to learn to swim and gave some privacy.
Kristoff eyed Rowen. He wore a borrowed shirt that was tight on him and woven cloth pants, and Kristoff wondered if it would be improper to ask him to remove them for the lesson.
He found the thought too enticing and decided against it. “Shoes off, but we’ll keep our clothes on. Having wet clothes will be nice later in the day, believe me.”
Rowen nodded, his eyes already tracking the waves as they rushed up and down the beach. He kicked off his sandals, once again not even seeming to notice the piping-hot sand.
Kristoff didn’t care about pride, and he wasn’t about to burn his feet. He walked to the rushing water, only then taking off his shoes and throwing them toward the island. “C’mon out here, Rowen,” he called. “You’ve done at least this before.”
He had to smile at Rowen’s tentative steps as the water rushed toward his ankles. “I’ve chosen a calm spot,” Kristoff said. “The waves won’t be as intense here. It will be like the river on the island before where you recovered, okay? Very calm.”
Rowen gave him a disbelieving look, then glanced back at the expanse of the sea. He took a deep breath, then stepped out farther. Kristoff followed, watching Rowen as the surf rushed up past his ankles, then his calves, and finally to his waist, the same depth as the river on the small island where he had recuperated.
Rowen stopped, glancing back at Kristoff. Kristoff wished Rowen could communicate if he was afraid. He didn’t want to just assume and patronize him.
“Keep on going,” Kristoff said. “To learn to swim, you need to get to a point where you can lift your feet up and float, so a bit deeper than you’re used to.”
Rowen’s eyes widened, but he looked ahead and kept walking. He stopped again as soon as a wave swirled around his waist, looking once more to Kristoff. He had gone a bit pale.
The poor man. “It’s all right, Rowen,” Kristoff said. He moved closer, putting an arm around Rowen’s shoulders. “I’m right here. I’m a good swimmer—I won’t let anything happen to you. All we’re going to focus on today is the basics, all right?”
Rowen nodded but didn’t move, and Kristoff felt his shoulders tense into knots when the wave drew back, pulling them both toward the sea. This must be terrifying for someone who grew up in a desert. Once again Kristoff wished Rowen could speak. He must have so much to say about all the things he had never seen before. He had assumed Rowen was adjusting so well, but only because Rowen was by necessity quiet. It wasn’t fair.
“I learned to swim years ago,” Kristoff said. “I was about half your height. I was terrified.” Rowen’s shoulders relaxed a bit beneath his touch. “I thought the waves would knock me over since I was so small.” Rowen couldn’t respond, so Kristoff kept talking. “One day, I went out with a friend of mine, Lissa. She was from Linland, which has coasts, and could swim like a fish. She told me to just sit down and let a wave hit me. I didn’t want to, but she did it too, and it was easy. My head got wet, but I just held my breath, and then it was over.” He smiled at the memory of tumbling back onto the sand, soaked to the bone, Lissa laughing her head off. “After that, learning to swim wasn’t so bad.”
Rowen nodded, his shoulders relaxed, and Kristoff realized he was squeezing Rowen’s shoulder over and over in one hand, like a tiny massage. He blushed, unsure if that was appropriate or not. He was touching Rowen too much. Or was he? He didn’t know. He did know he was enjoying being so close, so it was probably not okay. Rowen didn’t seem to mind, but he wouldn’t be able to say anything if he did.
Kristoff pulled his arm away, clearing his throat. “All right. A few more steps forward, Rowen.”
Rowen gave him a glance that may have been wistful, but he nodded. He took a few more steps forward, the water rushing up onto his stomach. Kristoff followed, letting out a sigh of contentment as the water eased some of the unpleasant heat of the day. When heat spells came on as quickly as this one had, the ocean water was always still cold, even near the island. He wanted to dive beneath the waves completely and escape the weight of the sun beating down on his neck and head, but he had to wait for Rowen.
Rowen stayed motionless for a time, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths. “Stay calm, Rowen,” Kristoff said. He resisted the urge to reach for him again. “There’s nothing that can happen to you out here that you’re not in control of.” Talia had said the same thing to him when he had learned to summon tendrils of air to fly. Flying was far scarier in Kristoff’s mind than swimming could ever be, but this was Rowen’s lesson, not his.
Rowen nodded, but he didn’t look at Kristoff, his eyes tracking the movements of the waves. He took another minuscule step.
“Good,” Kristoff said. He walked beside Rowen, then took a few more steps forward, foregoing propriety and holding out a hand. “C’mon, a little farther.”
Rowen took his hand, and once again Kristoff was surprised by the calluses he felt. Rowen was no coddled child. He pulled him forward, the slightest of tugs, but Rowen didn’t move. His grip was powerful, as if both clinging to Kristoff for support and pulling him out of the water. Rowen was likely stronger than he was, and he grimaced at the tight pressure Rowen was putting on his fingers.
Kristoff hadn’t realized Rowen would be this frightened. He should have asked Franken, or one of the other mentors, for advice. If Rowen truly had been a child, it would have been easier, but Kristoff got the impression that he would never be able to physically urge Rowen anywhere he didn’t want to go.
Kristoff pulled his hand back, careful not to move too quickly, and Rowen’s grip tightened again, Kristoff grimacing with pain. Rowen let go immediately.
“I can help you, Rowen, but be careful,” Kristoff said, waving his hand to get the circulation back. “I know you’re afraid. There’s no shame in that. We can take as long as you need, but you do need to learn to swim. Control over ocean water is necessary for a Storm Lord. Besides, if you’re ever by the ocean and you don’t know how, it can be dangerous.”
Rowen’s mouth quirked, and he looked back over his shoulder. Maybe he was estimating if he could live his entire life without getting near the ocean.
“Let’s try this,” Kristoff said. “I’ll head out deeper, and you just walk to me. I’ll be there if you fall or if your feet can’t touch the bottom.”
Rowen’s eyebrows went up, and Kristoff wished he hadn’t added the last part, but Rowen nodded.
“Good,” Kristoff said. “Just walk toward me. See? I’m standing, so it’s safe.” A wave ebbed and flowed past, the sand beneath his feet shifting. It was barely noticeable to him, who had spent a good part of his life swimming by the coast of the island, but Rowen stumbled and switched his balance whenever the water moved.
But at least he moved forward. Soon enough he stood in front of Kristoff, barely a foot away, his face pale. A wave sent goose bumps up Kristoff’s back and swelled up to Rowen’s chest, and Kristoff reached out and grabbed his student’s hand.
“See?” Kristoff said. “Just stand for a moment. Let the waves move you a bit. Don’t fight them. The deeper you go, the less you’ll notice them.”
Rowen held on, taking a few steps toward Kristoff when another wave threatened to pull him back toward the island. This close, Kristoff could tell Rowen probably had a few inches of height on him.
Kristoff pushed the thought away, glad that the refreshing cold of the ocean would inhibit any fiery desires he might have about the man in front of him. Maybe he should find a partner, or at the very least spend some more time alone and ease any frustrations working so closely with an attractive man like Rowen caused.
Dammit, focus. He was here for Rowen. “All right,” he said. “I’m going to move farther back.”
Rowen gave a quick jerk of his head, and when he
let go, Kristoff took a few steps back, until the water lapped over his shoulders with each swell. “C’mon, Rowen,” he called. “It will feel nice after the heat, I promise.”
Rowen stared at him, not taking his eyes away as he walked closer, sending small splashes when he threw his arms out for balance. Another wave sent a pleasurable chill up Kristoff’s neck when it rushed almost past his head.
Rowen didn’t move with the wave the way Kristoff had instructed, and his eyes widened when a swell of water approached him up to his chin. It shouldn’t have been any effort at all to keep his footing, but his muscles tensed and he leaned back, his face pale and mouth open in a frightened O.
Kristoff dove forward, propelling himself with ease when the wave shoved Rowen backward, and caught his student as his feet left the sandy bottom. He had Rowen upright again in seconds, and then Rowen latched on to him, pressing close.
“It’s all right,” Kristoff wheezed against the arms around his shoulders and chest. “I’ve got you. Maybe we’ll just practice here for now, okay?”
He assumed Rowen would let go immediately, but it was a few moments before he did, and even then, he left one arm around Kristoff’s waist. For Rowen this must be an anchor, a way to minimize fear in a situation he was afraid of losing control over, and Kristoff wanted to respect that. They hadn’t been this close since he had flown Rowen to the island, and then it had been an emergency, Rowen ill and hurt and Kristoff uncertain about how his life might change. Right now, under a hot sun in refreshing water, Kristoff had nothing to worry about except his body threatening to react to Rowen’s touch.
He thought back over what little he knew of the southern regions. They weren’t as chauvinistic as the northern tribes, he knew. Few civilizations were. But that didn’t mean Rowen would respond well to Kristoff’s interest. Of course, Franken had mentioned he was spending time with Volkes, but that could easily mean Rowen just wanted a friend, nothing more. Considering how rare men who liked men were, the chances of Rowen sharing his inclinations were low.
The Storm Lords Page 15