Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 2

have been nice. And some lubrication. I won't be riding a horse soon." He gave a cockeyed smile then, a shadow of the smile Sai had loved so well. "Harsh as it was, we needed that."
    Sai shook his head in denial. He'd never raped a captive. Never. He'd never before hurt a lover.
    "I was interrogated," Arick continued. "For hours, they tried to beat the truth from me. I told them the truth, that the blades had been a gift from my king, and that the twin had been lost on the battlefield. Finally, they brought in Maris." His voice had dropped to a near whisper. "He's the sorcerer, the king's main advisor. And he is a… terrible man. Evil."
    Sai recalled the lonely screams of the captive who'd been tortured back in the camp. He shuddered.
    "Maris also interrogated me and quickly ascertained the truth: I held no magic. But he still… he continued with the questioning. I suppose it wasn't as horrible for me as it is for his other victims, as I have no magic in my veins. But it was quite awful." He fell silent then.
    Sai rubbed his temples. The torture Arick had endured had been Sai's destiny. Through the most horrific events, he'd been spared.
    "Sai?"
    He looked up at Arick.
    "You would not have survived. I had nothing to give him; you however… he'd have ripped you apart to take your magic. It would have been your death."
    Yes, but at least he'd have been spared the years of hell, the ripping, crippling blend of anger, betrayal, and joy he now felt. Oh, and guilt. That too.
    Arick, though, he'd have survived. He'd have grieved for Sai, but he had his son and his career and a strong, noble heart.
    When he wasn't turning on his own people.
    "Why, Arick?" The other man looked at him; his bright eyes glittering in the dim light. "You have a degree of freedom. You could have slipped away today. Instead, you captured me only to release me. Why did you stay with them?"
    "You do not know? Of course, how could you?" Arick sat to the side, protecting his ass. "They have him, Sai. They have Aron."
    "Your son?" Sai's mind scrambled to make sense of the reason that Arick had given for betraying everyone he held dear. "Arick, that cannot be."
    "I saw him, Sai! They keep him in the palace jail. I do not know if they abuse him or starve him; they only give me glimpses of him. He cries, Sai. How can I leave my son to die at the hands of those monsters?" Tears glittered in his eyes, carving bright tracks down his cheeks.
    Sai rose and crossed the slight distance between them. He gazed into Arick's agonized face. "Arick, your son is fine. I saw him just days ago, for a sword lesson. He lives with Juliana in the officers' barracks."
    Bewildered, Arick shook his head. "I saw her fall in battle. I don't know how they did it, Sai, but they took my son— he's little more than a babe!"
    Sai had never before seen magic of this sort, but he tasted it on the back of his tongue. It was bitter and metallic. The magic he practiced was born in his very blood, part of his soul. This was sorcery, a spell of some sort. How could he fight that? He squatted 'til he was eye-level with Arick.
    "Arick, tell me, how much time has passed since you were taken?"
    He frowned in concentration. Clearly, a bit of simple reality was taking a toll on Arick's delusion. "Years, I suppose…" He looked at Sai in question. "How many years have I been gone, Sai?"
    "Six years, Arick. You son is no babe." Sai did the only thing he could think of: he picked up the massive sabre and rested it flat in his hands. Holding it out to Arick, he looked down at it, then at the broken soldier again. With trembling hands, Arick reached out, laying a hand flat on the blade.
    "Six years, Arick," He repeated. "Aron is now a young man of eight. He attends school and sword practice. I've barely been able to look at him because he favors you so completely."
    "Eight years old?" Arick shook his head in denial. "No, there must be a mistake. My son, he's only… a baby… a toddler. He has so few words; he cries still, and he's not yet three years old."
    A touch of fear wafted through Sai, the spell that had deceived his lover was deeply entrenched. But like all illusion, it would blow away like cobwebs when the truth was revealed. So he waited, watching Arick's face as his mind sorted through conflicting information.
    "Eight years old? Truly?" His eyes beseeched Sai— for what, he did not know. He could only sit quietly as Arick finally cleared his mind of the falsehood. He dropped forward,