by Kim Fielding
“This is a pretty spot,” Rig commented.
It was. The dry grass of the Reach had turned soft and green, spotted with small yellow flowers. The river burbled happily— unaware of its fate once it reached the city— and the mountains rose steeply to the north, crowned with white snow.
“I’ve never been here before,” Enitan admitted. “I hardly ever left the city.”
“Why?”
“People don’t. I guess I assumed nothing worthwhile existed anywhere else.” He ran his hand down Rig’s arm. “I was so wrong.”
That night they made love again, Enitan entering Rig’s body with nothing but spit and precome for lubrication. But it certainly wasn’t pain that made Rig howl at the stars.
Afterward they lay huddled together, and Enitan didn’t sleep. He wanted to be awake for every last minute of Rig’s skin against his.
****
The river water felt wonderful as it sluiced the filth from Enitan’s body. So at first he couldn’t understand Rig’s reluctance to wade in past his knees. Then Enitan realized what was happening and laughed. “There aren’t any dragonfish here. Or trancebeetles or anything else to worry about. The current can be fairly swift near the middle, though, so be careful if you don’t swim well. And there’s a lot of silt.”
“I don’t swim at all.” Rig proceeded a little farther into the water, stopping when it reached his waist.
Enitan wasn’t very skilled at it himself, but he stayed close to Rig, just in case. They didn’t have any soap, so they took turns scrubbing each other with their hands— enjoying the opportunity to stroke all that glorious bare skin— until finally they were both pink and thoroughly clean. Back on shore, they took turns with Rig’s razor, then pulled on their clothes.
“Do we look slightly more reputable?” Rig asked.
“As good as we’re going to get.” He waited for Rig to shoulder his pack before grabbing his hand as they started their walk toward the city.
“Don’t you want some breakfast?”
Enitan shook his head. His stomach was in such a hard knot; he couldn’t possibly eat. “But I’ll wait if you want some.”
“I don’t.”
At one time, perhaps hundreds of years ago, a wall had ringed the city. But whatever threats existed then had eventually disappeared. Some sections of the wall had been incorporated into houses and other buildings, and most of the rest had fallen into ruin. The ancient gates still existed, however— huge arches that had once been guarded but now stood perpetually open, serving no purpose but to mark the city’s edge. Rig gawked as they passed through the north gate, and Enitan held his hand more tightly.
Although it was early, crowds already clogged the streets. Food vendors called out to passersby. Men and women trudged to their workplaces, many of them eating as they walked. Shopkeepers set up displays. Tradespeople carried packages or pushed carts, children scurried, servants toted empty bags for the morning shopping, wealthy people strolled. And everybody stared at Enitan and Rig. The city dwellers couldn’t have known where the oddly dressed duo had come from— nobody would even imagine men rising up from the Downs— but they surely wondered at the unusual sight.
Rig clearly made an effort to keep his chin up and back straight, but his palm sweated heavily and his breathing was harsh. Enitan gave him a gentle smile and linked their arms instead. “Nothing deadly,” he reminded Rig.
“No demons?”
Gods, Enitan loved this man! “Only in my head.”
Enitan’s house— dammit! Minna’s house— was near the center of the city. It wasn’t the poshest neighborhood, but it was fairly upscale. Although the house was only a few minutes’ walk from the Council Hall, it was quite a trek from the north gate; and with so many people in the streets, the journey was slow. When they came to a narrow archway, Enitan steered Rig through, down a crushed stone path, and to a bench. They sat.
Rig took a few deep breaths before looking around curiously at the spindly trees and lackluster flowers. “What is this place?”
“A park. People come here to relax and enjoy… nature.”
A raised eyebrow showed Rig’s opinion.
“Yes, I know,” Enitan sighed. “But it’s all the nature they have. Some parks are bigger than this, with more complicated plantings, maybe a fountain and some statues. But dressed like this, we’d be evicted from those parks right away.”
“The parks are… not for everyone?”
This was hard to explain since people in the Downs didn’t use money and, for the most part, apparently shared their talents and their belongings. “In the city, if you’re rich, you can have whatever you want. If you’re poor…” He shrugged.
“You were rich.”
“My family was, yes.”
“And if your father truly had disinherited you and then died naturally? Or if you’d simply walked away? How would you have survived?”
Enitan rubbed his face. “I don’t know. Maybe I would have fought for money. People do.”
“You were trapped.”
“I wasn’t…” He scrubbed his face again before clasping his hands in his lap. When he’d lived in the city, he’d never considered himself trapped. After all, he had whatever he wanted. Well, almost whatever he wanted. He’d thought of Minna’s heavy thumb as an annoyance, but he’d never truly contemplated leaving the family. Instead, he’d countered her controlling behavior with petty disobedience— which had undoubtedly added to her infuriation and her determination to dominate him.
But after he fell to the Downs, once Rig had fully healed him, Enitan no longer had to worry about being poor. He could have remained with Rig. He could have walked to the village and lived there, contributing in some way to the general livelihood. Nobody would have complained that his behavior was unseemly and unfitting for someone of his status. Nobody would have chased his lover away.
Gods, Minna’s betrayal had freed him, and he hadn’t realized it until just now.
But now was too late. He’d already left the Downs. This time he’d closed the trap on himself.
“I’m unredeemable.”
Rig’s answering growl was pure frustration. “There’s nothing to redeem. Your mother died when you were a baby, your father was too busy with his work, and your sister was still just a child herself. You were a lonely little boy desperate for affection.”
“I grew up.”
“Into a lonely man desperate for affection— and with no idea how to get it. You took all the attention and all the contact you could find. Through fighting and sex. Through exasperating Minna. You never needed redemption, Eni. You needed love.”
Enitan closed his eyes tightly. Love. But look what he’d done with love when he’d been given it— abandoned it, lured it into danger.
“Let’s go,” Enitan said, abruptly standing. Rig obeyed wordlessly.
As they walked the last several blocks to his old home, Enitan did not feel righteous and victorious. He was tired and sad.
“You don’t have to do this,” Rig whispered to him.
Enitan’s response came out almost as a sob. “She murdered my father.”
“And nothing you do will bring him back.”
Enitan didn’t answer.
He’d never invested much thought into the details of how to break into his family home. Really, he’d never given much thought to any details, had he? So now he dragged Rig into a shadowed space between the two houses across the street, and he tried to exercise his sluggish brain.
“It’s pretty,” Rig said. “I like the statues.” He was referring to a pair of yaley-beasts that flanked the stairs leading to the front door. Enitan had always liked them too. When he was a boy, he’d named them Abenu and Ajinu and whispered to them and patted them whenever he passed by.
“It’s a good house. The walls are thick, so it stays cool inside even when the weather is hot. Every room has carved stone figures near the ceiling and around the windows. Animals, people, monsters. We have— they have
a bathing room with a tub big enough for a crowd, and there’s a small library, and if you climb to the roof you can lie on your back and watch the night sky. There’s—” His voice broke; he cleared his throat. “There’s a garden in the back. It even has a few trees.”
Rig nodded. “It was a good home.”
“I’d rather live in your hut,” Enitan replied honestly. But gods, this had been his home, and he’d loved it, and Minna had stolen it away.
A small sound escaped Enitan’s throat. Not quite a sob— a whimper, perhaps. And although it had been very quiet, Rig heard it and grabbed Enitan’s shoulders. “I love you,” Rig said gruffly before giving him a hard, demanding kiss.
Enitan was still breathless and shaky from the kiss when the front door to the family house opened. A woman appeared. She closed the door and slowly descended the steps, placing each foot carefully and holding her body stiffly.
It was Minna.
The mourning period had ended, so instead of funereal brown, her tunic and trousers were a dazzling array of yellow, orange, and red. He knew the suit must have come from one of the city’s most fashionable tailors and was undoubtedly cut in the latest style. Gold and red beads glittered in her long hair, and more beads hung at her neck and wrists.
But Minna looked old. Her face— always on the thin side, with a too-long chin and too-prominent nose— was drawn and lined, and she had dark circles beneath her eyes. She had the same blue eyes as Enitan, but hers looked dull, watery, and red-rimmed. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she paused for a moment as if to catch her breath, then set off with shuffled steps and bowed shoulders.
She was alone and looked miserable.
Enitan, with Rig’s hand on his shoulder, thought of a little girl who’d lost her mother and was given heavy responsibilities at too young an age. When other young women of her social class were dancing, drinking, taking lovers, she was managing the household and supervising her younger sibling. She was plain and serious, so unlike her handsome, carefree brother. He found it easy to get along with other people, while she struggled through everyday conversations. Although she worked hard and her brother didn’t, their father favored his son. When she’d fought for respectability and a position in society, her brother had taunted her with his tawdry bedmates, his crude fighting, his dissolute habits. She had built her bitterness and anger into a thick wall; no love would ever penetrate it.
Minna Javed had murdered or driven away her only family. She had nothing left but money and servants, and she would always be alone.
But Enitan? He never had to be alone again.
He waited for her to reach the end of the block and turn the corner. Then he looked into his beloved’s warm, puzzled eyes. “Rig? Let’s go home.”
****
Chapter Thirteen
Dany stood on the balcony, looking out at the lake. “You could almost dive right in from here.”
“And get eaten by dragonfish,” Rig reminded him.
“Yes, there’s that.” Dany turned around to grin at Enitan and Rig.
Rig’s arm rested comfortably across Enitan’s shoulders, while Enitan had wrapped his arm around Rig’s waist. Part of Enitan’s mind was following the conversation, but another part— perhaps a larger part— was speculating whether he wanted to top Rig that night or bottom for him. Well, perhaps he could do both. It would be a celebration evening, after all: their first night in their new house.
Judging by the long looks Rig kept sending him, his thoughts were running in the same direction.
Dany looked at them both and shook his head. “I should get back to the cabin before nightfall.”
“You can stay here,” Enitan offered.
“And listen to you two scream and howl half the night? I don’t think so. You’re worse than the nighties.” Dany winked. “It’s fine. If I’m very persuasive, sometimes I can get Sar and Kef to share their mat with me. I’m feeling persuasive today.”
Chuckling, Rig and Enitan accompanied Dany through the big upstairs bedroom, down the stairs, and out the front door. He picked up a waiting bag of dragonfish filets but paused before beginning the walk to the cabin. “I’m glad you two found each other. You’ve remade yourselves into something beautiful.” He winked again and went on his way.
Enitan sat on the doorstep and patted the space next to him, and Rig plopped down. He took Enitan’s hand in his larger one, but for a while neither of them said anything. Finally Enitan toppled slightly to lean on Rig’s shoulder. “Remade?” Enitan said.
“Healed.”
“Both of us.”
Rig kissed his head. “Both of us.”
Only a few stray clouds dirtied the afternoon sky. Perhaps they’d be able to sit on their deck and look at the stars tonight— between bouts of making love. Or even better, perhaps they could make love under the stars. Enitan was about to suggest this when a blue bird flapped over from the trees, landed near their feet, and squawked balefully.
“Our secret hideaway has been discovered,” said Rig. He looked pleased about it. Enitan smiled; he’d been hoping their bird would find them. He ducked inside the house, hurried to the kitchen, and grabbed a piece of flatbread. It was supposed to be for their dinner, but they could spare some. He reclaimed his seat and handed Rig half the bread.
“You’re an easy mark,” Rig said. Then he tore off a piece and tossed it to the bird.
“Yes, I’m not mean and tough like you.”
“Hmm.” Rig threw another piece, which the bird caught in midair. “I was thinking. Maybe soon you’d like to go to the village.”
“Trying to get rid of me already?”
“Go with me, I mean. Just for a day or two. Everyone’s heard all about you, and I’m sure they’re eager to meet you. We don’t get new blood often.”
A trip to the village sounded interesting. Enitan smiled at him. “I’ll go wherever you lead me.”
Rig looked at him solemnly. “What if I lead you into fog?”
“Then we’ll die together.”
“You don’t seem upset at the idea.”
“I don’t want to die. But if I have the choice between a few minutes with you or an eternity without, well…” Smiling, he threw his entire chunk of bread at the bird, pulled the other piece from Rig’s hand, and flung it as well. Let the bird puzzle out how to bring all that bounty back to its nest. Enitan had better things to do.
He launched himself at Rig hard enough to send him sprawling onto his back. Then Enitan used a few of his wrestling moves to keep Rig captive beneath him. “I choose you,” he whispered in Rig’s ear. “I will always choose you.”
And of course they kissed.
They were still kissing, hands fumbling at each other’s clothes, when a terrible noise echoed from the trees.
“What’s that?” Enitan demanded.
But Rig was already pushing him off and scrambling to his feet. He grabbed a blanket that hung on a hook just inside the door, and he took off at a sprint toward the woods.
Enitan sped after him. “What is it?”
Rig stopped and whirled around. “That’s the scream a man makes when he falls. Go back, Eni. Go wait for me at the house.”
Although Enitan’s heart raced, he shook his head. “No.”
“Eni—”
“No fog today, Rig. But anyway, it doesn’t matter. I choose you. Now let me help, dammit.”
Rig gave him a searching look. Then he shook his head slightly, but a hint of a smile quirked his lips. “Stubborn.”
Keeping pace, they ran through the trees. The fog might come. The newly fallen man might die. But gods willing, the sun would remain. And perhaps together, Enitan and Rig would work to help another man heal.
The End
Author Bio
Kim Fielding is the bestselling author of numerous m/m romance novels, novellas, and short stories. Like Kim herself, her work is eclectic, spanning genres such as contemporary, fantasy, paranormal, and historical. Her stories are set
in alternate worlds, in 15th century Bosnia, in modern-day Oregon. Her heroes are hipster architect werewolves, housekeepers, maimed giants, and conflicted graduate students. They’re usually flawed, they often encounter terrible obstacles, but they always find love.
After having migrated back and forth across the western two-thirds of the United States, Kim calls the boring part of California home. She lives there with her husband, her two daughters, and her day job as a university professor, but escapes as often as possible via car, train, plane, or boat. This may explain why her characters often seem to be in transit as well. She dreams of traveling and writing full-time.
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