by Megan Derr
The entire house was heavy with dark woods and fabrics. Even in the peak of summer it probably did not get much light. No wonder the previous owner had been eager to leave it behind. The house spoke of more dangerous days, before the paladins had been a reckonable force. The days when people had not left homes built more like fortresses—more like prisons. Thankfully no ghosts inhabited it. The house either had an unusually happy history or a necromancer had already addressed the matter. Either way, Koray was grateful.
Some effort had been made to lighten the bedroom. The walls were covered in pale blue wool, expensive and difficult to do, but it had the added benefit of helping hold out cold and keep in warmth. Tapestries were hung up all about, depicting spring and summer landscapes. There was an enormous, four-poster bed carved with flowers and forest animals, a common prayer carved into the footboard and another into the headboard.
Herbs hung from the rafters, lending the room a bittersweet scent, and they looked fresh enough they must have been changed out often to ward off insects and rodents.
Someone had put clean cups and a decanter of some dark, red-gold liquid on the little table by the fire and draped a clean blanket over the dusty-looking chair. Not wanting to ruin it with his damned hair, Koray filled one of the glasses with a small measure of the alcohol and sat on the floor. His hair was practically stuck to his back, matted together in wet, sticky clumps. The smell of it had given him a headache.
The alcohol was sharp, burning as it slid down his throat, but surprisingly sweet, like candied flowers and the berry pies of which he had become so fond. He wished he knew what it was, if it was possible to get more to take home.
A sharp rap came at the door, and Koray called for the knocker to enter. He rose to his feet and moved out of the way as two men came in bearing a large, heavy tub followed by a half-dozen others who carried in bucket after bucket of hot water.
Misery twisted through Koray all over again when Myst slipped into the room and set a pair of shears and a mirror on the table. "Highness. Shall I find someone to assist you?"
"No," Koray said. "Thank you for all of this."
Myst smiled and swept a bow. "Always an honor to serve you, High Necromancer."
Sometimes Koray still thought he lived in a dream. He would never grow accustomed to being accepted, even respected. He would definitely never be comfortable with being part of the High Court. From vagabond to ruler of a country.
He drained his glass and set it back on the table, enjoying as it warmed him, dulled the sharp edges of a long, hard day. It should have been a simple rescue and purification, but had turned into a long, ugly battle. Thanks to the cold, icy weather that had rushed in on the heels of the fight, they were still a full day from home. If he could not have his own bed, alcohol would do until Sorin arrived.
Koray shook his head. Only a year ago he had fought for a single cup of bad wine that was mostly water. Now he drank expensive alcohol as though it was his right. How easy it was to become a spoiled brat.
"Thank you," he said to the servants as they finished preparing his bath. They murmured 'Highness' as they bowed, a few stealing a last glance at him before they finally were gone, the door shutting quietly behind them.
Koray looked at the shears again, fighting a stupid urge to cry. He was proud of his hair. When necromancers had been hated, beaten, driven away time and again, most of them had kept their hair short, even completely shaved, to hide what they were as much as possible. Koray had always stubbornly refused to, chosen instead to defiantly put his hair on display, make it impossible for people to miss. Every strand of gray and white had been put there by work he did for the Goddess and her children. He had earned them, and by the Goddess, people would look at them.
Sorin had been the first one to look at him with want, to teach him what that look meant. Sorin treated his hair like it was a treasure, and Koray enjoyed that more than he would ever admit.
And now, thanks to a bunch of foolish children, he was going to lose it all. He knew Sorin would still care about him, still find him appealing … but the uncertainty clawed at him anyway. It always clawed. One year, especially with all the upheavals in it, was not enough to convince him that Sorin would not eventually lose interest. What would Koray do then? They were both part of the Court of Five; they would always have to work together.
He poured another drink and drained the glass, then sat there until his body was flushed and warm and his hands didn't shake when he picked up the shears. The alcohol did not, unfortunately, keep him from crying a bit as he began to cut. It was hardly the first time he'd been forced to trim his hair and was, in fact, the second time he'd had to cut it short.
But it still hurt.
He threw the ruined, sticky mess into the fire and used the mirror Myst had left to make the shorn ends as even as possible. Someone else would have to make him truly presentable, but later. He wasn't in the mood for people right then. Koray wiped his eyes and stripped off his clothes, then climbed into the bath.
It didn't feel right. His hands kept fumbling whenever they reached the end of his hair long before they should have. Snarling, smacking the water in frustration, Koray grit his teeth and focused on the motions of bathing: scrubbing his skin clean, washing his hair, doing it all again before finally climbing out of the tub and retrieving the bathrobe hung on a special hook on one side of the fire.
He had only just grabbed it when the door swung open. Koray froze, robe slipping from his fingers as Sorin's eyes landed on him. He flinched and looked away when Sorin's eyes widened, unable to bear seeing what emotion overtook the surprise. Disappointment? Anger?
Kneeling, he retrieved the robe from the floor and pulled it on with stiff movements. Tying the belt around his waist proved too difficult, the fabric slippery, stubborn, stupid—Koray jumped when Sorin's hands, still gloved and cold, pulled his away. The robe gaped open, washing cool air over his skin briefly before it was overtaken by the heat that poured from Sorin like water from an overfull bucket. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked, finally looking up.
"Making certain My Lord High Necromancer is well," Sorin said quietly and reached up to touch his fingertips to Koray's cheek, the chill of them making Koray shiver. "You do not look well."
Koray turned away from the touch, scowling at the mantle. "I'm fine."
"In all the time I've known you, I have never know fine to mean fine. What's wrong?"
"What's wrong?" Koray knocked Sorin's hand away when he tried to touch him again. "What do you think is wrong? Look at me! How could you not notice?" He snarled and jerked away.
Sorin huffed, but his expression was nothing but infuriatingly fond as he watched Koray. "Necromancer, for all I love your hair, and always jest about crying were you to cut it, I am far more concerned about the harm that could have befallen you. Surely you know that. I heard that your horse was startled and injured. It had to be put down, and you were brought here."
Lifting his eyes to the ceiling, Koray replied, "It wasn't my horse that had to be put down. The pack horse startled and somehow in the chaos broke its back leg. A pity, because the paladins had decided it would be best to sell it off to a farmer when we returned to the castle. The poor thing would have liked living on a farm." He sighed because he might not like horses but no living thing deserved that. "I did take a spill, however, because horses are one step down from evil, but only acquired a few bruises, most of them to my dignity. My hair landed right in the mess those children dumped on us, unfortunately. I'm lucky I saved any of it." He ran a hand through the strands, which stopped a little below his ear.
He closed his eyes when Sorin's gloved hand followed the path his had taken, hating the way it stopped far too soon, missing the way it would always keep going before moving to grab his hips or cup his ass. Instead, Sorin's hand dropped to his shoulder, slipping beneath the loose robe to settle, cool and heavy, on his skin.
Koray sighed as Sorin's other hand curled beneath his chin and tilted his
head up. He slowly opened his eyes to meet Sorin's. "Why are you frowning?"
"I don't like when you're skittish around me," Sorin replied, hurt flickering across his face. "Why are you acting as though you will bolt at the first opportunity?"
Dropping his eyes again, staring at the mud-spattered armor Sorin still wore, Koray muttered, "All my hair is gone." Sorin made a soft noise, letting go of his chin to curl his hand over Koray's other shoulder. The movement pushed the robe off entirely, and Koray snarled in annoyance as he fumbled to catch it. He glared at he pulled it back on. "Stop trying to strip me!"
Sorin gave a slow grin. "Wasn't on purpose, but don't expect me to be very sorry."
"Incorrigible," Koray muttered, but he did not protest in the slightest when Sorin bent to kiss him, mouth warm, moving against Koray's with a steadying familiarity. When Sorin pushed his robe away, Koray let it fall, shivering as Sorin's hands, still in their heavy leather gloves, ran over his skin. He thrummed with the need to throw his arms around Sorin's neck, press up against the length of him, but all he would get for his trouble was cold metal and drying mud.
Drawing back, Koray said, "Am I the only one who's going to be naked here?"
Sorin grinned and stepped away. "Going to help me, or should I call for assistance?"
"You couldn't do all this before you came storming in here?" Koray asked but stepped in close to help with all the straps and buckles. "The bath water should still be warm."
"That is nearly the best news I've had all day." Sorin gathered up all the pieces of armor and crossed the room to leave them in the hallway so they could be taken away and cleaned. "I ordered food be brought."
"So there was very little point in shrugging off my robe?" Koray asked, shooting him a look.
Sorin turned, caught him glaring, and his grin just widened unrepentantly. "There is always a point in getting you naked, my beautiful necromancer." He pulled off his clothes, tossed them in the pile with Koray's, and walked toward him.
"Shut up." Koray retrieved his robe and shrugged it back on yet again, belting it and moving out of reach as Sorin came at him. "You still have not said a word about my hair, don't think I haven't noticed."
"You wouldn't believe a single thing I had to say unless I told you it was awful, which it isn't, but you'll insist on thinking so anyway." He smiled and darted in, got his arms around Koray's waist, and bent to give him a kiss full of filthy intent. Nibbling at Koray's jaw, he said, "It's different, obviously, but it suits you. Makes you look even more mysterious somehow."
"How in the name of the Goddess does one look mysterious?" Koray demanded. "I have never understood that description. There is nothing remotely mysterious about me, least of all with you."
Sorin's mouth quirked as he left Koray to go to the door, where Koray saw he had dropped his saddlebags as well as a larger version of Koray's robe. Where had all this stuff been found so quickly? Koray was constantly mystified how such things were managed so effortlessly. Pulling the robe on, Sorin returned to the fire, traced Koray's lips with one finger. "I could know you a thousand years, necromancer, and still I suspect many of the thoughts in your head would remain out of my reach. I am ever baffled as to how you do not seem to realize the way everyone holds you in awe."
"I do not think it is awe so much as morbid curiosity," Koray said. "Stop being a nitwit. The only mystery to my person is why I have not removed your tongue." He regretted the words the moment they were spoken. "Shut up."
Sorin grinned, delighted and evil. "You like what I can do—"
Koray slapped his hand over Sorin's mouth. "Shut up."
Tugging his hand away, Sorin reeled him in and kissed him soundly, mouth hot and wet, tongue knowing and eager as he reminded Koray of how skillfully he could use it.
A knock on the door finally broke them apart, and Sorin grinned at him briefly before striding to the door to let the servants in. When they had gone, Sorin locked the door and knelt to rifle through his bags again. Koray left him to it, far more interested in food and the large pitcher of mulled wine that accompanied it. Piling a plate with what looked like some sort of roasted fowl, roasted vegetables covered in butter and fragrant herbs, and fresh bread, Koray sat down in one of the old, dusty chairs and began to eat.
He looked up briefly when Sorin joined him, smiling, but neither of them bothered to speak until the food was gone and the wine nearly. Warm and slightly floaty, Koray set his plate on the floor and settled back in his seat, closing his eyes and savoring being warm and still, even if it was in a strange house with the castle still a day's journey away. "I had hoped to be home tonight." When Sorin did not reply, Koray opened his eyes and saw Sorin smiling at him, bright and happy. "What?"
Sorin shrugged, dropping his gaze to his wine, bizarrely shy. "I never grow tired of hearing you call the castle home."
"Oh." Koray wished he could attribute the sudden heat to his cheeks to all the alcohol he'd imbibed. "I do wonder sometimes what became of my little cabin. I hope someone else is putting it to use."
"We can go see sometime, if you like," Sorin said, a strange look taking over his face. "I wouldn't mind seeing where you used to live."
Koray made a face. "What is there to see in a broken down, one-room cabin in the middle of a field on a dull mountain? This time of year it will still be covered in snow. It spends most of the year that way, really."
"It's yours," Sorin said. "I know so little about your days before the castle, though I certainly understand why you prefer not to discuss them, but after all this time, most of your necromancers seem to know more about you than I do."
"What good comes from recounting the days I lived alone in a dreary cabin or slept in graveyards and ditches while trying to rid ungrateful towns of ghosts?" Koray shrugged irritably. "Once, if a handful of children had accidentally covered me in that nasty mess, the villagers would have laughed and run me out of town, probably with sticks and stones. Today, all of them stood in fear, waiting for me to punish them. Sometimes, I cannot make sense of how my life has changed so drastically."
Sorin rose, crossed over to him, and knelt, taking his hands. "You fit the role of High Necromancer seamlessly. You must know that by now."
"I think I'm the first High Necromancer, and therefore no one knows what 'seamlessly' looks like yet," Koray retorted. "At any rate, this strange new life keeps me plenty busy, and I don't have time to think about my past, save when my necromancers bring it up. It's not that I don't want to tell you, there are just always other things on my mind. But if you want to see my cabin someday, My Lord High Paladin, I suppose we could, though when we would have time to gallivant off like that, I could not tell you."
Sorin smiled and kissed the backs of his hands. "We'll find the time once the weather warms. For now …"
Koray's awareness sharpened as a familiar look overtook Sorin's face and his voice deepened, making Koray's skin prickle. "Here?" They did not usually do … intimate things away from the castle.
"Here," Sorin said. "The way those clouds outside looked, we're going to be snowed in here at least through tomorrow. No point in forcing everyone to make it home when we can wait the storm out in safety and comfort here." His smile turned wicked, eyes so hot with intent Koray felt close to burning. "The door is locked. I gave orders we were not to be disturbed save for emergencies, and we left in such a hurry that I accidentally brought along my gift for you."
"Gift?" Koray said, perking up because as flustered as they made him, he always secretly enjoyed when Sorin bought him things.
Sorin rose, took his wrists, and tugged him to his feet. He stole a quick but firm kiss, then led Koray over to the bed. Sitting on the edge of it, he reached into his robe and withdrew what proved to be a dark green, velvet drawstring bag and thrust it into Koray's hands.
Koray frowned as he opened the bag and reached his hand inside, even more puzzled when he pulled out four lengths of cord reminiscent of the kind used to tie back bed curtains. These were thinner a
nd so very soft. "Why are you giving me lengths of …" his face went hot as comprehension dawned, and he nearly dropped the bag and rope in his shock.
Soft, fond laughter made him look at Sorin. "Your face is priceless, necromancer. I told you I would get the proper rope. Did you think I was lying?"
"That was nearly two months ago," Koray replied. "I thought …" Maybe Sorin had changed his mind, or forgotten, though when he wasn't spinning problems in his head he knew it was really just that they had both been too busy to do much of anything before falling asleep.
Goddess knew he had not stopped wanting it, desperately. Left to his own devices, the idea probably would never have occurred to him. He loathed being bound, could not stand the feel of metal around his wrists and ankles.
But that sick, helpless feeling didn't rise up when he thought of Sorin stretched out in bed, wrists secured to the headboard. He'd scarcely been able to think of anything else since Sorin had put the idea in his head.
He loved the way Sorin barreled about taking care of everything and everyone. Sorin said Koray took well to being High Necromancer, but as near as Koray could tell, Sorin had been born for the role of High Paladin. If there was anyone in the castle universally loved, it was Sorin.
But for all he enjoyed Sorin's commanding, even roughshod, ways, he still quietly thrilled at the idea of Sorin forced to hold still and be fully on the receiving end of all the attention Koray could give him. The man was always so eager to do everything for everyone that he rarely did anything for himself.
Sometimes Koray felt bad about wanting to tie Sorin up—ashamed was probably the more accurate word. But it never seemed to trouble Sorin, seemed in fact to please him, and that was enough to give Koray courage enough to at least daydream about it. He had never entirely allowed himself to believe it would really happen. It was Sorin, though, so he really should have known better. Koray might have hated the man if he didn't love him to the point of madness.