Redamancy

by T D Cloud

  Sorin narrowed his eyes. A draft rolled through the room, making him shiver. “What do you mean?” he asked slowly. “Are you talking about your mother?”

  The Lord’s jaw went tight. “I’m… I’m born of something foul. Everyone sees it. It’s not hard to tell,” he whispered, and it was his tone alone that made Sorin pay attention. Mutinous.

  Pained. “My mother saw it—probably saw it from birth, and now she’s just taking action to see it snuffed out before I foul up the life she made for herself. I should have expected this but I didn’t. I don’t want Khouri to suffer more because of it. If I tell him I love him then rip it away from him… I’d be just like her.”

  “Navidae—”

  Navidae didn’t bother to look at Sorin as he kept going. His fists clenched in the sheets at his sides. “It explains so much, you know.” His words took on an almost frantic pace. “The steps she’s taken. She always hated Father. I must not have seen she hated me too for being born of him. I was too busy hating him too.”

  Sorin said nothing. If there was something to say after hearing that the man he just slept with killed his own father, Sorin didn’t know it. So, he simply stared at Navidae, and Navidae bit his lip and closed his eyes. Things were different down here whether Sorin liked it or not. Keeping an open mind was… important.

  After a moment of silence, Navidae went on. “When we killed him... I thought it would be the chance we never had to try being a family again. That she would maybe… that she wouldn’t show me such disdain.”

  He gave a dry, humorless laugh and opened his eyes. “I should’ve known she was just making way for her new family instead. Love isn’t a feeling we’re allowed to feel. Only hate and desire. Bitterness and… and control.” He turned his head and looked at Sorin with vulnerability Sorin was sure he wasn’t meant to see. “She’s been waiting for this opportunity. She can’t truly move on with her life while I’m still here, reminding her of all she hated so much.”

  This had nothing to do with loving Khouri… or… maybe it had everything to do with it. “Then why didn’t she try this sooner?” Sorin asked, his stomach churning with the inexplicable need to comfort him. “Khouri told me about Jinkan, and there have been others you’ve toppled before this. If she really hated you and truly wanted you to suffer, then why did she wait until now?”

  Navidae shrugged his shoulder and rolled onto his side to face Sorin. He didn’t look his age at all right now. His hair was mussed and strewn over his hurt eyes, his shoulders hunched to make him look all the smaller. The man might be tall for a Drow, but against Sorin, he was dwarfed. “Perhaps she waited until I was truly happy before seeing fit to take it all from me,” he mumbled. “She was vindictive when we killed Father, so why wouldn’t she be vindictive when she ruins my life?”

  It was hard to imagine anyone hating Navidae when he was like this. He drew his hand down Navidae’s ribs, settling it on his just covered hip. “No mother hates her child,” Sorin said, pulling Navidae close. “Doesn’t matter if you’re Drow or human or dragon. This isn’t happening for no reason. If you’ve done something wrong…”

  Navidae closed his eyes. When Sorin leaned in, he met him halfway, kissing him chastely.

  “Just apologize,” Sorin finished, opening his eyes so he could stare into Navidae’s. “We aren’t going to leave you down here to rot. If it doesn’t work, we’ll find another way. Don’t give up so easily.”

  Navidae smiled after a moment, laughing softly as he looked to the side. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it came close. “Maybe I can see why Khouri likes you so much,” he admitted, meeting Sorin’s eye with a wry smile. “That human optimism is quite charming, isn’t it? Charming and disgustingly sentimental.

  Apologizing is all you ever say to do.”

  “You’re just a brat like him, aren’t you?” Sorin grunted, grinning as he rubbed his stubbled jaw against Navidae’s cheek. Navidae immediately yelped and began to struggle, but Sorin just rolled on top of him and held him down. “All of you Drow are just big, mopey, unappreciative brats.”

  Navidae was certainly stronger than Khouri, though, and it was thanks to that alone that he managed to worm his way free from Sorin’s clutches. “Gods Below, that’s awful!” he spat, rubbing tenderly at his flushed cheeks. “Like little razor blades! How does Khouri stand it? How do you stand it?”

  “You act like body hair is a curse,” Sorin snorted, crossing his arms behind his head as he admired Navidae. If only he was a bit more cuddly. Sorin could imagine appreciating his body for hours if he shared the same temperament as Khouri.

  “Isn’t it?” the Lord sneered.

  But instead Navidae was a control-seeking brat who only let his guard down when you least expected it. “Last I checked it drove you and your ilk wild,” Sorin retorted, brow raised and grin in place. It had its own charm about it, at least.

  “Momentary insanity paired with a fascination for the unfamiliar, I assure you,” Navidae nearly spat, hissing as he rubbed his stinging cheeks. “There are no doubt many reasons why we rarely keep humans down here and I think I just discovered the most compelling one.”

  Sorin rolled his eyes. “Khouri loves my beard.”

  “Khouri also gets off on pain, so I hardly think we should use him as the baseline for normal reactions to terrible things.”

  A soft cough had the both of them freezing in place. Sorin looked up and saw Khouri standing in the doorway to the bathing room, brow raised and a grin on his face that seemed at war with his attempt at making a frown. “Navi, that’s not a very nice thing to say. Especially when you think about your fascination with biting everything in front of you.”

  Sorin snorted just as Navidae whipped around to glare daggers at Khouri. It softened almost immediately when he got a good look at him, though. Khouri was fresh from his bath, his hair damp and his body wrapped in a robe that clearly belonged to Navidae. It was currently in the process of slipping off his shoulder, the front tied poorly and his hand only just holding it closed. Khouri smiled at the both of them as he approached the bed, crawling back into their reach eagerly.

  “What?” Khouri asked when no one tried to argue with him.

  He looked at Navidae curiously, reaching out a hand to rest on his lover’s cheek. “Not going to defend yourself?”

  Navidae covered it with his own hand, holding it in place. “Would you want me to?” he murmured. Sorin’s eyes widened even as Khouri’s narrowed in confusion. He wasn’t talking about the teasing, was he?

  Khouri stared at him for a moment. His gaze flicked to Sorin, but Sorin just looked away, holding his hands up to remove himself from the situation. A pink slip of a tongue peeked out to wet Khouri’s lips. He looked at Navidae, smiling like a gentle breeze.

  “Of course I would,” he said, leaning in to kiss the tension from Navidae’s jaw. Khouri cradled his lover’s head in his hands, his fingers tangling in his tousled hair. “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t fight.”

  Khouri let out a short gasp as he was rolled onto his back. Navidae pinned him completely with his body, hiding his face in the crook of Khouri’s neck. “I wouldn’t be, would I?” he mumbled, and Sorin shook his head fondly, running a hand down Navidae’s spine. The dumb brat.

  “What’s gotten into him?” Khouri whispered, not even trying to be discrete with his question. He was happy though, smiling and running his fingers through his lover’s hair. “He’s never this needy.”

  But Sorin kept his mouth shut.

  This was more than enough to get Navidae to do the right thing.

  Chapter Sixteen

  A hundred and fifty six.

  Navidae had walked this earth a hundred and fifty six years.

  He’d lived through murder attempts and back-stabbings and political machinations so complicated they would make a layperson’s head positively spin. He’d traveled from one end of the Duskriven to the other, pressing his fingerprints into every aspect of society he could manage simp
ly to say he had. He’d toppled dynasties far older than himself on whims so flimsy they wouldn’t even warrant the breath it’d take to articulate them.

  He’d done more than most men could even dream to do, but he could decisively say that this was the first time he had ever felt like voiding his stomach on principle alone.

  Could he make it to the nearest window and still have time to throw himself from it before she got here? A quick glance at the clock in the corner told him if he did, he’d be cutting it very close. It ticked and tocked, its song an unbearable note to his stifling anxiety. It took conscious effort to keep his hands out of his hair. He wanted nothing more than to tear at it until he felt better, but he knew well enough it wouldn’t do him any good. It’d just make him an even bigger mess for his mother to savor. Yet another dose of satisfaction before she took pity on him and ended his misery once and for all.

  He let out a sigh. A wry, helpless sigh. As if she would give him such a quick, painless end.

  Navidae leaned back in his chair and sagged against the back, looking at the ceiling in utter resignation. He’d had a good night at least. A last final night of pleasure and warmth with Khouri and Sorin now too. A strange addition, but he couldn’t complain. It was cold comfort to know Sorin would be there to take care of Khouri once it all came to a head. Cold comfort, but comfort all the same.

  A knock sounded on the other side of the study door.

  Navidae’s heart lurched. He sucked in a preemptive, bracing breath. “Yes?” he called out, knowing it couldn’t be her. She’d never lower herself to knock on her own.

  The door opened. Logic failed him. Navidae sat up straight, his heart in his throat. He gripped the armrests with grey knuckled hands, his body alive with sick worry and pervasive dread. He closed his eyes even though he knew it was foolish. One should always look a beast in the eye before it went for the throat.

  “Hey,” a low voice called, and Navidae cracked open an eye.

  Standing in the doorway wasn’t Dezik or his mother. It was Sorin, damp-haired and tired. The human’s brow furrowed as he murmured, “You look like you’re about to have a heart attack.”

  Navidae looked away, crossing his arms as he sagged back down in his chair. “Good morning to you too,” he muttered, drumming his fingers on his arm. The shell bracelet on his wrist chimed softly with every twitch and curl. For luck, he’d thought as he fastened it around his wrist that morning. He glanced at Sorin when the man let himself in. “I see you’ve helped yourself to my bath.” Luck was something he needed today.

  Sorin let out a huff. “How do you know that?” he wondered, hands on his hips as he took in the shelves of oddities lining the room. He always seemed so taken with them when he came in here. Perhaps some of it was familiar to him. Sorin reached out and touched one of the jars of preservation liquid. “You’ve probably got dozens of baths in a place this big. Maybe I used one of those.”

  “You didn’t,” Navidae said. He hated just a little how his nerves were settling now that he wasn’t alone with his thoughts. “I can smell my bathing salts on you. Don’t break that,” he added, giving Sorin a hard look as he hefted the jar. “The specimen inside is one of a kind. Poisonous too, from what I recall being told. If it’s exposed to the air, it’d kill us both.”

  Navidae paused there, pursing his lips. “On second thought,

  please drop it.”

  That earned him a laugh. “One of a kind? Poisonous?” Sorin held the jar up and looked at him over his shoulder. The grin he wore was patronizing. So patronizing in fact that it took a lot of control to keep from throwing something at him. “What do you think this is?”

  “It’s a rare surface beast,” Navidae bristled, glaring a little when Sorin poked and prodded the glass. “Some extinct derivative of a waterborne creature.”

  “Really?” Sorin drawled. He was having fun. Navidae hated it dearly. “And how much did you pay for it?”

  Navidae had to think for a minute about that. It was old, probably one of the first acquisitions he’d ever bought back when the House became his.

  “A fair amount,” he figured. “Upwards of a few hundred gold.”

  Sorin nearly choked on the burst of laughter the words induced. Navidae narrowed his eyes. “What?” he demanded, watching the human set the jar back on the shelf before he dropped it. “What is so funny?”

  “It’s a bullfrog, you idiot,” Sorin wheezed, laughing too hard to control himself. “You paid— You paid that much for a bullfrog in a jar?”

  “A… bullfrog?” Navidae cocked his head, glaring when Sorin didn’t stop laughing. “What in the nine realms is a bullfrog?”

  “You’re lucky you’re pretty,” Sorin muttered, wiping the tears from his eyes. He smiled at Navidae, shaking his head pityingly. “You got scammed. Big time. They’re like bats up on the surface. God, that’s a good idea though. Maybe I should quit my job and take up peddling wares. If all Drow nobility are as dense as you, I’d make a fortune in no time.”

  “I was young,” he said defensively, positively bristling beneath the mockery. “I’d just gotten control of the House and it wasn’t as if I’d ever been above to know for myself what it was that vendor was selling.” He looked down at his desk, the tips of his ears annoyingly warm. “Doesn’t matter anyway. It’s not as if anyone would ever know the difference down here.”

  Sorin hummed. “How young is young?”

  “Twenty-seven,” Navidae said blandly. He picked up a pen and scrawled a note to himself to change the record of assets to reflect the true nature of that item. It’d add embarrassment to injury to have the truth of it come out after acquisition. Dis- honored Navidae Marrowick, the man who couldn’t tell a bullfrog from a lie— “You look twenty-seven right now.”

  Navidae looked up. Sorin was closer now, resting his hip against the front of his desk. With him this close, the scent of the familiar oils and soaps filled Navidae’s senses. What he wouldn’t give to hide away in his room for the rest of the day. Or eternity, preferably.

  “I assure you,” he said quietly, staring down at his note. “I’m not.”

  Another hum. “How long do you have?”

  “To what?” he asked, giving Sorin an assessing look. Then, Navidae pulled a face. “To live? That’s a rather rude line of questioning, Sorin, even for you.”

  Sorin just rolled his eyes. “You are such a brat,” he muttered. “Until your mother arrives.”

  Oh. He glanced at the clock. Sorin had succeeded in distracting him, but not long enough. “She’ll be here soon. Probably within a half hour.” Even speaking the words aloud made his stomach churn uneasily. Navidae swallowed, holding himself tighter in his chair. “Where is Khouri? You need to keep him away from my study while she’s here. If he walks in here while I’m talking to her—”

  Even as he spoke Sorin moved around the desk and sat himself at Navidae’s side. He put his hand on his shoulder, squeezing in a manner that was probably meant to comforting. “Don’t worry about him,” Sorin said, his low, gravelly voice somewhat of a balm through it all. “He’s asleep still. You know him; he’ll sleep through her visit and wake up to good news.”

  Navidae stared at his hands clasped in his lap. “Good news,” he echoed blandly. “Ha. You’re operating under the assumption that I’ll somehow be successful in this. Optimism isn’t a good look on you, Sorin. It’s better suited to dreamers and fools.”

  The hand on his shoulder moved higher, wrapping around the back of Navidae’s neck to tilt his head up. Sorin gave him an unimpressed look. “Don’t be a brat,” he said, letting go just long enough to tug on Navidae’s hair annoyingly, fixing a few messy locks until they laid as flat as they were likely to get short of a proper combing. “I know that’s probably asking too much of you, but in my experience acting your age tends to yield better results than throwing a hissy fit.”

  Navidae glared at him weakly and batted his hand away from his hair. He scoffed, turning his gaze towards the shelves
lining the walls. How many of them were fakes too? How many more mistakes had he made thinking them something grand? “It’s not a hissy fit.” His throat felt tight. He swallowed through it, pretending it helped when it didn’t. “There’s… What’s at stake is far greater than my feelings alone.”

  “It’ll be okay.”

  “How can you say that when you don’t know?” Navidae asked, wording it like an accusation. It felt good to lash out, even if he knew Sorin wouldn’t rise up to take the bait. “You don’t know that. You don’t know anything.”

  Sorin shifted against the desk, shrugging. “How can you say it won’t work when you don’t know for sure?” He looked at Navidae and gave him a wry smile. “Just do your best and don’t give up hope. She might surprise you.”

  Yeah, Navidae thought a bit manically. She might surprise him with a blade through the heart or an armed guard in the shadows, ready to clap him in irons and throw him to the watch the second she was done watching him grovel.

  Gods, he could see it all play out behind his eyes every time he blinked. “I don’t think I can do this.” Navidae buried his face in his hands. The shells against his cheek felt like a kiss, only woefully lacking the comfort a real one would have brought him. “I don’t think I can face her.”

  A knock sounded on the door. The hand on his shoulder squeezed. “I don’t think you have much choice now,” Sorin said, standing up and moving towards the door. “I’ll be nearby if you need me. Just do what you have to do, Navidae.” He smiled encouragingly when Navidae lifted his head to look at him. “It’s just your mom.”

  “If that’s meant to be comforting, it isn’t,” he hissed, but he still sat up straight and smoothed down his shirt, his hair. Oh, Gods. This was really happening. He wanted to yell for Sorin to stop, to leave the door shut. It was too late though. Too late by far. The door was already opening. Sorin was gone. In his place was Dezik’s familiar face. He didn’t need long to figure out which he would rather see.