Redamancy

by T D Cloud

  “You should care more about getting along with Khouri than me right now,” he suggested, hearing Navidae move towards the door. “He’s the one who actually matters.”

  “We all need some stress relief, Sorin.” Navidae glanced over his shoulder, pinning him in place. “There’s no reason I can’t do both. Time permitting, of course.”

  “Oh, of course,” Sorin mumbled, watching the Lord open the door and look in either direction, ostensibly searching for Khouri. Navidae slipped out the door. Voices rose up, growing muffled once it closed behind him. Sorin collapsed in his chair and drew his hand down his face, stroking his beard as he tried to calm his pounding blood. Every interaction with Drow seemed to drive him one step closer to the brink. The brink of insanity or despair or an early grave…

  Well, it was too early just yet to tell which it would be. He leaned back and stared at the ceiling, counting the fancy tiles above his head until his body got the message to stand down.

  He jerked back to alertness when the door opened again.

  Sorin looked up, eyes wide as Khouri stomped his way inside, slamming the door behind him for good measure. He looked like he had something to say. No doubt a tirade against Navidae that carried over from whatever kind of talk they had outside, but it seemed to dry up the second Khouri caught sight of Sorin. He stopped walking about halfway between the door and the table. Instead of speaking, he just gaped.

  Sorin raised a brow. “Cat got your tongue?”

  “What… Where is your shirt?” Khouri asked, his nose wrinkling as he immediately began sniffing the air. It didn’t take much for Sorin to gather that he thought they might have been up to something in here, something a bit more physical than a simple conversation. Sorin rolled his eyes, nodding to the crumpled shirt laying a few yards from the table.

  “Stop that,” he grunted, dragging Khouri’s attention back onto him. “It’s over there. Can you grab it for me? It’s chilly in here.”

  “Then why did you take off your shirt in the first place?” Khouri asked, dutifully fetching the garment and bringing it to Sorin who took it from him gratefully. The Drow crossed his arms and watched as Sorin put it back on. He watched intently. Almost too intently. Cataloging the room, perhaps, and if Sorin was sporting any new cuts or marks.

  Sorin just rolled his eyes, settling back in his chair once he was clothed. That was the big problem with Navidae’s plan, wasn’t it? He expected Sorin to lie to Khouri now too. Sorin drummed his fingers on the table, turning the question over in his mind a few times. “He wanted to take my measurements,” Sorin decided, figuring it was the only explanation that made even the slightest bit sense given the circumstances.

  Khouri frown faltered. He blinked. “Measurements?” he echoed, furrowing his brow. “What for?”

  “That gala he’s throwing in a few days,” Sorin said, resting his elbow on the armrest so he could lean his head on his hand. “Evidently he doesn’t trust me to have packed for such a thing.”

  “Well, that’s believable.” Khouri shuffled a little, rubbing at his arm as he looked at the fire. “But… It was just a measuring thing. Why did he make me leave the room for that? He knows I’ve seen you naked before, so it’s not like he would care about preserving your modesty.”

  Sorin let out a huff. “Thanks.” He made sure to sound nonchalant but inside his mind raced to figure out a lie. A deflection, even. The safest lie was always the truth. Truth- adjacent at the very least. “Must’ve been because we were talking about you.”

  Khouri’s head shot up, his eyes wide. “What? Me? What about?” he demanded, taking a step closer to glare at Sorin heatedly. “What about me is so important that he had to throw me out like that?”

  Sorin sat up quickly, holding his hands in front of himself placatingly. “Khouri, calm down,” he said, his tone cool. “I was kidding. You’re wound tighter than a spring, you know that? He... wanted to talk about compensating Mastha. For putting you up. He didn’t think you’d let him, so he wanted to ask me himself.”

  The Drow balked at that, his shoulders visibly lowered. Khouri licked at his lips, eyes locked on the ground. “He could’ve… I wouldn’t have…” He bit his lip, wrapping his arms around his middle as he kicked at the fancy carpet with his bare foot. “I yelled at him,” he whispered, and Sorin knew he might have made things worse.

  “I’m sure he knows you didn’t mean it,” he said helplessly, hating this, hating the situation, hating Navidae a bit for making them go through all of this just to maintain the lie.

  Khouri moved towards the table and sagged into his seat, shoulders hunched as he started at the fire. “He’s stressed enough already. I just made it worse.” He rested his cheek against the back of the chair, the picture of misery incarnate. “No wonder he’s got no time for me. I just make things worse.”

  Sorin swallowed the knot in his throat. He didn’t know what to say. He scooted his seat into the table, reaching for the only thing left that might salvage what had begun as a slow, lazy day. Sorin cleared his throat and held out the deck of cards towards Khouri.

  “Deal me in?” he offered quietly, smiling when Khouri glanced at him.

  “... I thought you didn’t want to lose anymore,” Khouri muttered, slowly taking the deck from him and holding it in his lap. He shuffled through the cards with confident, careful fingers, glancing at Sorin from beneath his fringe.

  Sorin shrugged his shoulder, giving him a lopsided grin. “Guess I changed my mind,” he said simply.

  The smile it earned him wasn’t big. It wasn’t wide or happy or even all that sincere. But it was still a smile. A smile for trying, and a smile for humoring him with this one little thing. Khouri sat a little straighter and cut the deck with expert speed, his lips already forming a cocky little smirk that told Sorin he was in for a thorough trouncing.

  “I won’t go easy on you,” Khouri warned. Sorin sighed, taking his cards. “You never do.”

  So long as it helped, Sorin would take it with grace. It was the least he could do, after all, and more than Navidae was likely to give him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sorin stared into the looking glass and grimaced at what he saw looking back, wondering yet again why he had to go to this party when he didn’t even speak the damn language. His collar was lower than he wanted it to be, his beard trimmed and his hair bound back. If asked, Sorin didn’t think he looked all that respectable, but given the company he was about to share, he supposed that wouldn’t be much of an issue.

  “Damn Drow,” he muttered under his breath, breaking away from his staring contest with his reflection to grab the gloves Navidae had delivered to him alongside the rest of the finery. He tugged them on and clenched his hands a few times, feeling the stretch and give of new leather squeaking against his fingers. No matter what they threw at him to wear, Sorin knew he was going to stick out like a sore thumb regardless.

  How many humans ever found themselves invited to a gala thrown by Drow nobility? Not many, he figured, since Sorin couldn’t think of anyone he knew as unlucky as him. Sure, the outfit was fancy, and the food and company promised to be as well. Anyone else might relish the chance to rub elbows with such wealth. But really, Sorin had to think he’d be happier just staying in bed.

  He gave up on his outfit and glared at himself in the mirror. It was as good as it was likely to get. Time to go find Khouri since he sure as shit wasn’t going to that gala on his own. He left his room and headed off down the hall, carefully counting the doors as he passed to make sure he didn’t get lost. His usual landmarks were no more thanks to Navidae’s redecorating but he had a decent enough idea of where to go to get to the master bedroom.

  Whether or not he’d be allowed inside was another story entirely. Sorin was determined though, and that had to count for something in this place.

  He found the room within a few minutes, recognizing the elaborately carved door frame from Khouri’s past descriptions. It was large and it was intimidating, the trim
carrying the bone motif just the same as the rest of the house around it. The door was opened a bit, largely dark inside. Sorin put his hand on the door and pushed, not bothering knocking when it was already open.

  “Hey, are you in here—”

  Sorin cut himself off when he caught sight of Khouri standing near the end of the spacious room, bare but for the gown clinging to his hips and held to his chest with both hands. His mouth closed with a harsh click and Sorin immediately straightened up and coughed, “Sorry, I’ll wait outside.”

  “No, don’t go,” Khouri rushed, reaching out a hand to stop him. His gown dropped an inch, revealing the cheeky little slip of a nipple. He quickly lowered his hand and hitched it back up, flushing as he looked at the ground. “I need you to help me get ready.”

  Sorin made himself push past the realization that Khouri wasn’t wearing his nipple rings right now. “How am I supposed to help you when I barely got myself ready?” he wondered, closing the door behind him. He’d never been in Navidae’s room before. If Khouri wanted him to stay, he’d take the chance it was to look around a bit. “Where’s Navidae? Shouldn’t he be the one dressing you up?”

  Khouri’s face fell and Sorin immediately regretted asking that. Khouri looked at the wall, his arms tightly wrapping around his middle to keep the gown in place. “I haven’t seen him since I fell asleep last night,” he admitted quietly. “Dezik told me to get ready. Navidae… Apparently he’s too busy seeing to things to help me.”

  “Ah.”

  Khouri managed a smile that didn’t come close to touching his eyes. “Yeah. Ah.” He turned to look at himself in a mirror hanging from within the wardrobe’s open door. It gave Sorin an unrestricted view of his unlaced gown and the naked skin visible just below. “Gods. I look a mess. I should just stay here tonight.”

  “And leave me on my own down there?” Sorin grimaced at the thought, joining Khouri by the wardrobe. He settled his hands on Khouri’s small waist, pressing a kiss to the Drow’s nape. “Come on. If I have to suffer through it, you do too.”

  A sigh lilted past his ear as Khouri turned his head to seek out his lips for a chaste kiss. “It’s hard to find the energy for it, isn’t it? Lace me up if you’re making me go. I drew more eyes than was safe last time I tried dressing myself. Navi nearly had a stroke.”

  Sorin’s hands felt clumsy as he took up the thin silk laces. “You’ll have to tell me about that sometime.” Was he meant to lace it up like a boot? He really had no other point of reference for something like this, so he did what he thought was right and began tightening the strings carefully until the gown lay evenly along Khouri’s spine.

  “You could just ask Navi. He talks to you more than he talks to me.” Khouri looked into the mirror, meeting Sorin’s eyes in the reflection. He only held it for a few seconds before reaching out to take some jewelry from the shelf inside the wardrobe. A couple bracelets, a ring, and a thin black thing that looked a bit like a pen.

  Sorin cleared his throat awkwardly, changing the subject before that could turn into something he had to admit to. “He really does this for you every time?” What patience Navidae must have. Or, Sorin thought a little cynically, what a control freak. “Isn’t the point of being rich to have people do this sort of thing so you don’t have to?”

  Khouri shrugged his narrow shoulders, standing a little straighter when Sorin began to tie the laces so they wouldn’t slip. It didn’t look incredibly neat, but it was better than nothing, and certainly better than anything Khouri could do blind and on his own. “He never acted like he minded,” he whispered, pulling away once the gown was fastened. He moved to the bed, leaving Sorin to trail after him.

  Guilt settled in the pit of Sorin’s stomach when he caught sight of the hurt on Khouri’s face. “Khouri…” he sighed, wondering what he could say to help. He knew keeping things a secret from him was a bad idea. Navidae was such an idiot to think this the best course of action to take. “It’ll be alright. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.”

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, Khouri looked at the sandals on his feet. “You say that but… It has to have been something I did, and I don’t even know what I could’ve done. None of this is right.” He looked at Sorin, his lips beginning to tremble. “It… It all started after I told him I loved him. He didn’t say it back. Did I do something wrong? Does he hate me now?” Sorin was quick to kneel between his legs, soothing him with his hands, his voice, his gaze. He swore violently inside at Navidae pulling this shit. He’d told him it was a bad idea, and here it was, proving to be just that. “It’s not that at all, Khouri, and you know it.” He carded his fingers through Khouri’s hair, stroking his cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Navidae’s an idiot for a lot of reasons, but never doubt that he cares about you.”

  Khouri looked at the wall, sniffling. “Navi… He always picked my outfits for me for these things. He’d set it out the night before and he’d make a big show of telling me why he wanted me to wear this over that. How the others would react when they saw me.” He took in a breath and let it out shakily, slipping on his jewelry with hands that shook. “I’ve never had to dress myself for a party before. I… I know it just sounds like I’m jumping to conclusions or that I’m acting helpless but...”

  “I didn’t think that at all,” Sorin said, running his fingers through Khouri’s soft hair. “You miss the intimacy of it.”

  Khouri took Sorin’s hand in his own, holding it to his cheek. “I do,” he said. “I’d never felt as beautiful than in those moments. It’s only thanks to Navidae I ever feel beautiful at all, and he… It’s like he wants to avoid me now.”

  Sorin tried not to grimace. “I’m sure he doesn’t want to avoid you,” he said slowly, turning his eyes to the floor. He looked back to Khouri when he felt something thin and cool press into his hand. That pen-like thing. “What’s this for?”

  For a moment Khouri said nothing. He just stared at the bracelet on his wrist, shoulders hunched tight. Sorin had to run his fingers through his hair to get him to look up, and even then Khouri wouldn’t smile.

  “It’s for my eyes,” he whispered. “Galena. So I look… sophisticated.”

  Galena? Sorin took a closer look at the pen and found it had a cap. He pulled it off and saw the dark smudge of the makeup at the tip, the thick scent of wax rising up to fill his nose. “I’ve only heard about this stuff a couple times,” he admitted, thinking back nearly a decade to a rowdy bounty hunter he’d slept with after a successful shared job. She had sat at the inn’s vanity as he laid in the bed, doing her eyes with a stick not half as fine as this. “I’m not sure I know how to do it properly.”

  “Me either, really, and I’ve worn it for years at this point.” Khouri smiled sadly, tracing beneath his eye with a finger. “Along here,” he said, “and then here,” his finger gliding along the bottom of his upper eyelid. “Thin is usually better than thick. We can smudge it if it’s crooked. I… I don’t really care anymore.”

  Sorin lowered himself to his knees and settled himself between Khouri’s parted thighs. He leaned in and kissed Khouri gently, making it as sweet as he could. “Okay,” he breathed, tucking Khouri’s soft hair behind his ears. “I’ll do my best.”

  Khouri closed his eyes, fitting his chin in Sorin’s hand easily. “You look handsome,” he whispered, letting Sorin tilt his head this way and that as he drew the galena slowly along the lid of his eye. “Navi did a good job measuring you.”

  “Remind me to thank him later for making these trousers so damn tight then,” Sorin muttered, sticking his tongue out a bit as he tried to make his lines straight and thin. This was far harder than threading a fishing line. His hands were too clumsy for something so delicate. “If this is how you Drow naturally fit them, then I have to wonder about Navidae’s skill because its certainly not his size that keeps you in his bed.”

  Khouri let out a soft chuckle. Sorin breathed a little easier. At least he was able to make Khouri smile. That was worth a
ll of this unfamiliarity. “It’s probably just Navidae’s idea of a joke. You won’t have to suffer them long.” Sorin finished one eye and backed up to take in the job he’d done so far. Khouri blinked slowly, checking it in the mirror for himself.

  “You’re better than I am at this,” he said. “All I ever do is stab myself in the eye when I try putting it on myself.”

  “Don’t jinx me. There’s still one eye left to do and that gives me plenty of time to jab something,” Sorin muttered, taking Khouri’s chin back in his hand to start on the next. “Whether it’s your eye or my eye has yet to be determined.”

  Khouri laughed again. He held still and let Sorin work, content to rest his head against Sorin’s hand. Despite Sorin’s pessimism, he managed to do the other eye easily enough. They weren’t the greatest; his lines were a bit shaky, the wings smudged and not sharp like how Sorin had seen others wear it. He stood up and let Khouri move towards the mirror once more, fixing a few stray lines with the tip of his finger.

  “Good enough,” he sighed, looking over his shoulder at Sorin. “What do you think?”

  “You look beautiful,” Sorin said simply. It was the truth, and even if his clumsy hands had done the work, Khouri’s considerable charms still shined as bright as anything. He could probably wear sackcloth and still look fit for a noble’s bed.

  “Flatterer,” the Drow said, reaching out a hand. Sorin took it quickly, bringing it to his lips. Khouri’s smile reached his eyes this time at the gesture. “I think we should head on down then. We’re already a little late.”

  The way he said it made Sorin want to hide up here with him awhile longer. But... Navidae had brought them back specifically to attend this party. It was more important now than ever to show that nothing was amiss, that Navidae had everything under control and no easily exploited weaknesses within reach.

  Sorin held out his arm the way he’d seen the nobility do in the city, raising a brow when Khouri stared blankly at it. “I’m escorting you, aren’t I?” he grunted, looping his arm through Khouri’s himself. “Might as well do it properly if I’m already dressed like this.”