by Megan Derr
Shaw set his wine glass down hard, not seeming to notice as it sloshed over the rim to soak the back of his hand before splashing across the table. He stalked across the room and loomed. "I don't care about duty, or doing what the king tells me. I obey because I feel it is the right thing to do. I took you in because I wanted to, and I was certain you wanted it as well."
"You wanted to, right," Tolan shot back. "That's why you make jokes about seducing me, then start barking out lessons and assignments and drills and nothing else, except to pop in to have lunch with Goss and me before vanishing again to attend to those duties you don't care about. Then you inform me how I'm going to spend the rest of my life, because that's what powerful mages do, and then—" He bit the rest of his words off with a snarl.
"And then what?" Shaw asked softly, intently, gray eyes intent upon him. Tolan didn't want to answer, but something in those eyes drew it out anyway. "And then you were cozy with Moonrise in the garden, and it seemed the only reason left for having me here was my magic, and you were doing what was right, and nothing more." He turned away, feeling tired and stupid and pathetic.
Then a hand curled around his arm, and yanked him back, and before he could snarl a protest at being jerked about Shaw grasped the back of his head—and kissed him. Tolan's eyes went wide, and he made a startled noise. Shaw seemed to take it as permission, and deepened the kiss.
Closing his eyes, Tolan went with it gladly, not certain where it would ultimately lead but more than happy to enjoy Shaw kissing him. When they finally broke apart, he had a grip on those oft-admired shoulders and was not quite ready to let go. "You kissed me."
"I believe that's what it's called, yes."
Tolan smacked him. Hard. Shaw grinned and nipped briefly at his lips, and somehow that zinged through Tolan even more than the kiss. Then he sobered. "Make no mistake, my little spark. The threat to seduce you was not idle." He sighed and stepped away, raking a hand through his hair. "Other problems arose, however."
"What other problems?" Tolan asked, frowning. Then he thought of something. "Does this have anything to do with Moonrise's slip at dinner? What is going on here that you're not telling me?"
"You know I've been locked in a fight with the First Minister…"
Tolan scowled, and nodded, and waited. "It is over what is to be done with you, and with Goss," Shaw said with a sigh, and sat down in a nearby armchair, suddenly looking very tired. "There is no more Seabolt, save for Goss. The rest of the family has either been arrested for taking part in the sacrifices, or have surrendered the family name and been permitted to quietly leave, in exchange for information on the sacrifices and participants. Goss is the last remaining Seabolt, and he will not be fit to take up the mantle for a long time. So, the war has raged—I want Goss kept with us, and allowed to choose whether or not to take his place as Seabolt when he comes of age. Others say that a new Seabolt shouldbe appointed now, and Goss given into his care to be properly raised."
"No one is giving Goss to some damned stranger," Tolan snarled. Shaw smiled at him. "No, they're not. As a matter of fact, they are trying to give him to you."
Tolan blinked. "What?" "The First Minister thinks you more than qualified to take up the mantle of Seabolt in a few more years. You have the magic, the knowledge, and the rest you will acquire in the next couple of years, until you come of age properly when you turn twenty one."
"Ridiculous!" Tolan bellowed, then sighed in aggravation as the noise woke up Goss. Striding into the office where a small bed had been brought for him, he sat down and scooped Goss up, soothing and petting until he settled back down and went to sleep.
He kept his voice low when he returned to Shaw. "That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. I'm not a noble, and I don't see how two years will make me one." Shaw snorted. "That is not the issue. Of course you can learn how to be a noble, or fake it as well as the rest of them do. People seem to forget that once upon a time, all of us of noble blood were farmers in the field as well. We simply proved better at beating people up with our magic, and grateful, greedy Kings gave us lots of wealth and land for that, andmade us do it some more. Still, in fact, are making us do it."
Tolan fought a smile. Now was not the time to find anything amusing. "So…I don't see what this has to do with your not seducing me, since you claim you still wanted to." Reaching out, Shaw tugged him close, then pulled him down for another very long and thorough kiss. "I had every intention of giving you very intriguing lessons at night, my little spark, trust that. Then this whole mess cropped up, and I thought it best to step back until the matter was settled. Though I was fairly certain you wanted no part of being named Seabolt, I did not want to sway your decision. If you were with me, in all ways, you might feel guilty or what all about accepting the title, if you chose it. I did not want that."
"Bossy and decisive and overbearing is your stock in trade," Tolan snapped. "I don't see the point in turning a new leaf now. If someone named me Seabolt, I'd use the authority to Lose them all in the deepest part of the sea."
Shaw grinned, and tugged hard, and Tolan blinked as he found himself in Shaw's lap. "You're being awfully presumptuous," he said, but settled one hand on Shaw's shoulder. "I hope you don't think you're getting away with anything with Goss so close."
"Oh, he's sleeping in the office," Shaw said, nibbling at his jaw, laughter warm against Tolan's skin. "He won't know what manner of apology I'm giving you in the bedroom."
Tolan shivered despite himself. "Apology sounds nice, especially after the way you were hugging Moonrise." Shaw laughed. "I see your friends wasted no time in telling you we used to be paramours. But we found we were better off merely friends. I'm too bossy, he's too…easily bossed around, I suppose." He kissed Tolan softly, but with heat. "I prefer a bit of spark, hmm?"
"That," Tolan said, "is a good start on your apology."
Kissing him hard, Shaw then rose and set Tolan on his feet, dragging him in for another kiss before taking his hand. "Come along, and I shall continue it, my little spark." Tolan went, and gladly, and almost asked if he was going to be tested on such lessons—then thought better of it, and turned his full attention to apologies—but as Shaw's weight pressed him into the mattress, and hands began to work at his clothes, something else suddenly occurred to him. "So, why does everyone keep telling me the Seacrist sacrifice involves sex? You're not about to murder me, are you?"
Shaw made a sound that was equal parts laughter and groan. He pulled off Tolan's tunic, then paused. "I rather figured those rumors would have reached you, but I had hoped they would not," he said, shaking his head. He rolled off Tolan, and sat next to him.
Managing not to pout, wishing he'd asked later, Tolan sat up.
"It does, actually, involve sex—traditionally."
Tolan's brows went up at that, and he laughed in disbelief. "So, what, while everyone else was out murdering their family members, yours were using the altar for more amorous sacrifices?" Shaw coughed. "Yes, actually," he said, and if Tolan didn't know any better, he would swear the unflappable and shameless Shaw's cheeks were pink. "They, uh, were quite enthusiastic about it, once they realized that blood was not the only offering which could be made."
"Oh my gods," Tolan said. "Please tell me this is one of your stupid jokes." "I wish," Shaw muttered. "It's not a joke. Somewhere many generations ago, my family figured out that a blood sacrifice was not needed—it's not the substance of the sacrifice which matters, it's the…heart of it, I suppose. That's the piece lost in the blood sacrifices. At the very beginning, it wasn't a sacrifice. Not like it became," he said quietly. "The earliest were people who willingly offered their lives to help their families. They volunteered to do it. Over time, that piece was forgotten, and people thought it was merely a matter of throwing a blood relation on the slab, chanting the necessary spells, and lo—the magic is restored. And that works to a point, of course, because family is family.
"How my family deduced another way is lost. I suspect it was a
combination of desperation and dumb luck, but it is the reason for our family motto—'Those who take gain nothing. Those who give gain everything'." He reached out and lightly touched Tolan's cheek. "The real key to it, however, is not the sex—that's just the part everyone and his mother seems to hear about, though really it's more a pleasant sort of formality these days—" Shaw coughed, and continued. "The real key to it is that we do not sacrifice our chosen. The key is the giving—wesacrifice our own powers to our chosen. We sacrifice ourselves to others. If the sacrifice is true, he or she gives the power back, and thus the power is replenished, and enhanced, and the family remains strong."
Shaw smiled faintly. "Moonrise and I were lovers, but as I said, our temperaments did not suit that level of intimacy. If I had asked him to do it, he would have said yes, and it would not have worked. It has to be a lover, a partner—lasting, you see. Anything less would result in failure, and possibly death."
Tolan rolled his eyes. "Honestly, your entire family is mad—I cannot believe—I'm not even certain I want to know how exactly that manner of sacrifice is performed." "I'll spare you the details of what my pagan relatives got up to," Shaw said, then grinned, and pushed him back down into the mattress. "However, if you want to practice, I can demonstrate certain crucial bits of the more traditional ceremony."
Breath catching on that practice bit, because sacrifice seemed an awfully permanent sort of thing to be and he liked the sound of permanent, Tolan simply replied tartly, "After you finishing apologizing." "Yes, my little spark," Shaw said, and obeyed.
Fin