Into the Wind

by Anthony, Shira

  “You may think about it, of course,” the king said.

  “Your offer is quite generous,” Luka said. “But he’s not for sale. Are you, my pretty boy?”

  Odhrán gazed at the floor and whispered, “No.”

  “We really must leave, Majesty,” Luka said with a smile. “It’s getting quite late.”

  “You will think about it,” the king said, the words sounding far more like a command this time.

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” Luka said as he led Odhrán out of the room by his leash. “Of course I will.”

  Nineteen

  ODHRÁN CURLED up at Luka’s side, his head buried under the blankets. He liked the feeling of being wrapped in Luka’s warmth. His body still ached from his time spent with the king two days before, but he relished it. He knew he’d done well. Luka had offered to leave him be, concerned that he might need time to recover, but he’d told Luka he wanted him. He would share his body for Luka’s pleasure, but it was Luka’s touch he wanted to remember.

  He still felt uneasy when he remembered the last conversation Luka had with the king. He knew Luka had agreed to think about the king’s offer to avoid offending him, but what if the king were to take him without Luka’s permission? Odhrán drifted into an uneasy sleep, arms entwined about Luka’s waist.

  HE AWOKE to the sound of hoofbeats on the cobblestones outside their tiny abode, followed by loud knocking on the front door. “Stay here,” Luka told him. “Don’t let them see you.”

  Odhrán did not leave the room, though he went over to the window to see who the visitors were. What he saw left him breathless with fear: several of the royal guards sat atop their horses, while two other guards flanked an older man Odhrán didn’t recognize.

  From the window, a normal man wouldn’t have been able to hear their conversation. But Odhrán’s hearing had always been more acute than that of normal men. If they made any move to threaten Luka, he would gladly defend him, even if it cost him his life.

  “I am Ukyon, the king’s treasurer,” the older man said. “The king has agreed to your terms.”

  Terms? Odhrán pushed the question from his mind. Of course Luka would do his best to appease the king.

  “Indeed.” Luka folded his arms over his chest. “And how do I know I will get what I want?”

  Ukyon frowned, clearly displeased that anyone, let alone a commoner like Luka, doubted his word. “My men will take you to your new abode. If your accommodations are lacking, we will make every effort to ameliorate them.”

  “How do I know the king will keep his word?” Luka demanded.

  “The king’s word is law,” Ukyon replied. “You will have your manor house.” He handed Luka a scroll set with a royal seal, which Luka opened.

  Odhrán stepped back from the window. Manor house? Had Luka offered to hand him over to the king in return for a new place to live?

  “…asked for was a manor and enough land to live off. Enough servants to tend to my needs and work the land,” Luka was saying when Odhrán came back to himself.

  No. He’s protecting me. Odhrán was more sure of it now than before. We’ll need to run. Hide from the king’s guards. He would gather their things, and once Luka managed to send the men away, they would escape the city and head for the coast. He began to pile their belongings onto the bed. It wasn’t that difficult. They had very little. Luka had once said they didn’t need much.

  Odhrán was gathering the sheet off the bed when the guards kicked open the door to the bedroom. They threw him down onto the uneven wooden planks of the floor, then bound his hands and attached a rope to his collar—the collar Luka had given him that Odhrán cherished. They dragged him down the narrow stairs, not caring that he stumbled and nearly fell.

  Odhrán knew that when they emerged onto the tiny courtyard, Luka would be bound just as he. His Luka. The man for whom he’d willingly sacrifice himself. If only he had vellberries, he’d transform into a giant and kill the guards! But when the guards pulled him by the collar and into the bright morning sunlight, he saw Luka standing beside the king’s treasurer, watching, his expression unreadable.

  “Kneel before Lord Ukyon, whore!” a soldier shouted.

  Odhrán cried out as the man kicked him in the shins, and he dropped to his knees on the hard stones. His eyes filled with tears as the other soldiers laughed. “Luka?” His voice cracked as he spoke.

  Luka turned to the king’s treasurer and smiled. “Feed him two young vellberries when you wish his cooperation. He likes to be fucked while others watch. He will retain his new form for several hours unless you desire a different form, but if you wish him to remain transformed longer, you must give him several more berries.”

  Odhrán’s tears burned like acid upon his cheeks. “Luka,” he gasped as he struggled to breathe. “Luka, please. I’ll do anything for you. I’ll become whomever you wish. Please don’t give—”

  The sting of Luka’s hand upon his cheek was nothing compared to his tears. He grabbed Odhrán’s collar and pulled it so hard Odhrán could barely breathe. “You will please His Majesty. You are his now, to do with whatever he wishes.”

  “Please, Luka,” Odhrán begged. “Don’t do this. I love you.”

  “Love?” Luka’s laughter was harsh. “You really are pathetic.” He eased up on the collar and Odhrán gulped in air.

  One of the soldiers tossed him over a horse and tied him to it.

  “Luka! No, please, Luka. If I wasn’t good enough, I’ll be better. Please don’t let them take me!”

  Twenty

  ODHRÁN BALANCED like an acrobat on the sill of a second-story window. From his vantage point, he had a clear view of a large walled city. Outside the walls, hundreds of ramshackle homes dotted the landscape. The crumbling façades and broken tiles of their roofs reminded him of sores that wouldn’t heal, festering, ignored. He’d once thought the city beautiful. Now he saw it for what it was: heartless and cruel.

  He pushed open the windows and slipped inside the house unnoticed before making his way to a room at the end of a long hallway. A solitary figure sat at a desk, working an abacus and jotting down figures. A large tray of cheese and dry fruits sat on the corner of the desk, a sumptuous snack, carefully prepared and arranged like an exotic fan with various layers.

  “In the end, everything has a price,” Odhrán said as he stood with his feet planted slightly apart and drew back the hood of his cloak to reveal himself.

  The man at the desk looked up and his eyes grew wide. Luka appeared older than before—fatter too. He likely ate better than he had when he and Odhrán had lived outside the city walls. “You! But—”

  “But I’m supposed to be rotting where you left me ten years ago?” Odhrán laughed.

  “I’m glad you’re safe.”

  “Are you? It seems you’ve gotten what you hoped for from the bargain.” Odhrán leaned on the edge of the desk and narrowed his eyes. In spite of his anger, seeing Luka again made him long for his loving touch.

  “You served me well. You could serve me again, if you wished it.”

  “There was a time I wanted nothing more,” Odhrán said in an undertone.

  “I loved you.”

  “Did you?”

  “Why do you doubt it?” Luka smiled and reached out to touch Odhrán’s face.

  Odhrán leaned into the touch—wanting it and yet knowing it for what it was. Taren’s gut twisted as he felt Odhrán’s shame and self-loathing. “Ten years of hell so you could strike your bargain? Love had nothing to do with it. Not on your part.”

  Luka lips curved upward with obvious amusement, perhaps even pride. “You always were clever.”

  “Too naïve to be clever.” Taren fought the urge to shiver at the coldness he heard in Odhrán’s voice. He breathed deeply to counter the fire of anger that burned in his belly. Taren sensed Odhrán’s all-consuming love of Luka, even in the face of his betrayal. If Ian ever betrayed him thus….

  Odhrán glanced down at his hands and tur
ned them over as though he didn’t believe they were his own. How many men had he killed today? Odhrán felt horrified at what he’d done. I never meant to hurt anyone. I only wished to be loved.

  Odhrán turned to leave. He couldn’t stay here. If he did, he’d lose himself again.

  “Stay with me.” Luka’s words were more a statement than a plea. As if he sensed Odhrán’s desire. His weakness.

  “I will not be used.”

  “You need to be used. It is what you live for. What you were born for.” Luka stood and traced Odhrán’s jaw with his fingers.

  Odhrán shivered and closed his eyes. Taren felt him waver. He understood the longing to be cared for, to want for nothing, to have others choose for him. He also knew, as Odhrán did, that it never could be. Luka was stalling, perhaps hoping the royal guards would reclaim Odhrán and he’d be rewarded handsomely for his recapture.

  “How did you escape?” Luka asked as he feathered kisses over Odhrán’s neck, causing Odhrán to moan. Odhrán’s body responded to the gossamer touch.

  “I… I…,” Odhrán stammered, unable to speak, so enrapt was he. Luka was like a drug to him, an addiction from which he couldn’t escape.

  “Lovely Odhrán,” Luka said in an undertone. “You appear so fragile, and yet you’re far stronger than you know.”

  The haze that seemed to engulf Odhrán’s mind cleared at these words. He pulled away from Luka. For a moment he just stared at Luka and allowed his thoughts to coalesce. “You…,” he began as realization dawned. “You knew all along I didn’t need the berries to transform, didn’t you?” He spoke the words without emotion, but the anger Taren had sensed now seemed to permeate every bit of his body, his mind, his soul.

  “You needed to believe it was something you couldn’t control.” Luka’s expression was smug, self-satisfied, as he took Odhrán’s chin in his hand and drew him nearer. “I merely gave you what you wanted.”

  “I wanted you.” He was pathetic. Weak.

  “You can have me again.” Luka was close enough to kiss him.

  Odhrán shook with anger and humiliation. “You know nothing about what I endured at their hands,” he shouted, unable to contain his pain any longer. “How they tortured me, beat me, cut me, then forced me to transform to heal my wounds. Do you care to know why they wanted me to heal? They wanted to fuck me until I bled again!”

  Throughout all of this, Luka remained still, his face impassive. When Odhrán was done speaking, he said calmly, “Are you finished?”

  “What?”

  “Are you through playing the pathetic child? Because I see no harm in what was done to you. You’re as perfect as ever, and just as desirable. As you’ve said, you healed.”

  “I haven’t—”

  “You’re stronger than you were.” Luka smiled, then asked, “What did you do to the guards who held you prisoner?”

  “I… I….” Odhrán saw the bodies of battered and bloodied men in his mind’s eye. He staggered backward, his hands over his mouth. Gods, had he killed them all?

  Luka’s smiled grew broader still as he sauntered over to Odhrán and took his chin between his forefinger and his thumb. “You’ve grown more powerful, my beautiful Odhrán. I know you want me. I know you want to please me. Together, you and I can take this kingdom. We can have everything we want.”

  “No!” Odhrán shouted as he pushed Luka away.

  Luka stumbled backward but appeared unconcerned with Odhrán’s outburst. “Stop being a child,” he chastised. “You always were such a sensitive sort. When will you realize your body is your tool?”

  “No. I don’t want… I can’t bear it again,” Odhrán whimpered as tears streamed down his cheeks.

  “You can and you will. Come back to me. I promise I’ll take care of you. Treat you like the delicate flower you wish to be.”

  “You lie!” Odhrán stepped away from Luka and waved his hand. Ice shot like blades from his fingers, pinning Luka against the wall of the study by his shoulders and arms. Blood spread from where the ice pierced Luka’s body, slowly turning his white tunic crimson.

  Odhrán recoiled in shock, then stared at his hand. How had he done this? He wouldn’t hurt Luka. His Luka.

  “Gods,” he gasped as he shivered in horror. “I never meant. I’m so sorry I—”

  “I should have left you to die on the beach.” Luka’s expression was as cold as the ice that held him captive. “You deserve far worse than being the king’s plaything. I should have fucked you on the square for everyone to watch, then let them take turns using you until you cried for mercy. Until you bled like the animal you are.”

  With each word, the temperature in the room dropped and the ice that immobilized Luka grew and spread until it covered his arms and chest. Odhrán imagined the ice working its way into Luka’s skin toward his heart. Luka’s eyes widened in what Odhrán would later recognize as fear. Luka’s cheeks paled, then turned nearly white. His lips were blue and his body shook from the cold.

  “You truly are a monster.” The words were spoken in a whisper, but they cut Odhrán as though Luka had plunged a steel dagger into his breast.

  Odhrán watched, unable to move, as if he too were frozen. He’d once had a heart that had beat for Luka alone. Now he felt nothing but pain and rage. “No…,” he said as Luka gasped, then took his last breath. “You are… you all are.”

  Twenty-One

  TAREN CAME back to himself with a shudder and a gasp, the feel of the water on his body comforting, reassuring him it had only been a vision. He ached for Odhrán, felt the guilt that still inhabited his heart nearly a thousand years later, understood both his anger and his remorse.

  Odhrán floated nearby—Taren sensed his curiosity as well as his self-loathing and disgust. Could you not read my mind?

  “No.” Odhrán’s expression was unreadable once more, but the waves of his emotions buffeted Taren. “I experienced the vision along with you, but I could not sense your thoughts. Only now do I sense the turmoil of your emotions.”

  And I yours, Taren countered, knowing Odhrán would sense his hesitation as he made sense of what he’d just seen. No wonder you hate us all—Ea and human alike.

  Odhrán’s expression was hard, but Taren knew it now for the lie it was: the cold glare was nothing but the bulwarks of a castle, built to fortify and protect Odhrán’s heart.

  “The night Luka sold me to the king,” Odhrán said in an undertone, “I transformed eight times.” He breathed in a long, slow breath, then continued, “Each time, a different man. Each time they took my body and my dignity. I had chosen to share my body before, but they took the choice from me. I was chained like a dog where all could see me. They would use me when the king desired it. Sometimes he’d fuck me too.

  “One night, after the king and some of his courtiers had taken turns using me, they left me chained to the floor. I awoke the next morning and realized one of my arms was free. I had dreamed I was a young boy again and my hand had slipped from my mother’s grasp.”

  Odhrán sighed and shook his head. “I am not sorry you know the truth, although I’m not sure I should have burdened you with it.”

  They are cruel, terrible people, Taren said as he trembled with anger. Not a single one of them showed you kindness.

  Odhrán smiled sadly. “I have lived a long time, Taren. I’ve had much time to think about my life as a slave.” Odhrán shook his head. “I knew very few of the people who lived in the city or even in Astenya. I never went back there. Even with everything they did to me, I cannot say all of the people who inhabit the land are as cruel.”

  You forgive them, after how they treated you? Taren found this hard to believe.

  “They are long dead. There is no one left from that time left to forgive. But if you speak of their memory, or perhaps more directly, of my heart? Then yes, I suppose I have forgiven them. I no longer despise them.”

  Why did you show me? Taren asked. Why would you—? But he didn’t need to finish his question. H
e felt it now. Understood it.

  “I don’t think you are Treande,” Odhrán said.

  But he was someone important to you. Someone you cared for.

  “My only friend.”

  Taren wished he could hide the pity and sadness he felt at hearing this, but he knew Odhrán had read his thoughts.

  “You have no need to be ashamed of your feelings,” Odhrán said with a ghost of a smile. “Once, I may have needed pity. Now, I have a home.”

  Taren thought of Ian. More than his home—his heart, his soul. Wasn’t love more than just a home?

  “I’m quite happy with my lot,” Odhrán said. “With few exceptions, love is an illusion. A thirst no earthly drink can quench. I have no need for it.” He gestured toward the island, and they began to swim.

  Odhrán’s words didn’t surprise Taren—he’d expected Odhrán to say as much—but the fact that Odhrán seemed to believe it did. You believe this, he said, even though he knew it was wrong of him to challenge Odhrán.

  He feared he’d overstepped the fragile bonds of their fledgling relationship, but Odhrán’s warm smile set his mind at ease. “I know you mean well, Taren. But you also know I speak the truth when I tell you I am far happier alone.”

  Come with me. The idea struck Taren with particular force, and as always, he spoke before he’d considered his words.

  “With you?” Odhrán paused, using his tail to maintain his position in spite of the strong current.

  To the Phantom.

  “My men will escort—” Odhrán began.

  Give Ian and his crew a chance to prove you wrong. That’s all I ask.

  Odhrán chuckled.

  What’s so amusing?

  “Only that I wonder if, before he lost Owyn, Treande was as impetuous as you are.”

  An interesting question, which led Taren to wonder yet again just how much of Treande inhabited his mind and body. He shrugged off the thought and forced a smile. Since I’m impetuous, he said in an effort to change the topic, then I shall ask you again. Will you come with me? Meet Ian and his crew?