Shadows Return

Forgetting about Alec and Khenir, he dropped the stone and darted out of reach, laughing again as he disappeared the way he’d come.
    Rhania paused a moment, looking at them, and Alec saw the unmistakable tracery of Khatme clan tattoos on her face above the veil. More surprising still was the naked animosity in her dark eyes as she looked past him to Khenir.
    He spoke sharply to her and she flinched as if he’d struck her, then hurried away, hissing something back at him under her breath.
    “What was that about?” asked Alec, wishing he’d had a chance to speak with her.
    “She hates me,” Khenir explained. “I took her place in the master’s esteem, and now she’s just the nursemaid.”
    “She’s a Khatme.”
    “Yes, and no one holds a grudge more deeply. You’d do well to watch out for her. She’s a spiteful, ill-tempered one, that woman.”
    “What did the boy say, before she came out?”
    “Oh, he was just playing the little master, upbraiding us for having our faces bare. The whole household spoils young Master Osri, and his father worst of all. I hope I didn’t get you in trouble, letting you go without your veil again. If Ilban says anything, just put the blame on me. It was my fault anyway, and he’s less likely to punish you that way. Now come, let’s walk a little more before they make you go back.”
             
    That evening Alec stared down at his supper tray in surprise, thinking,
Yhakobin must be really pleased with me!
First the unexpected walk in the garden with Khenir, and now this; in addition to the usual bread, soup, and apple, there was a thick wedge of white cheese.
    His mouth watered painfully as he sniffed it, but he resisted the urge to wolf it down. Instead, he ate the bread and soup first, then savored the cheese a nibble at a time, between bites of the apple. If the alchemist had visited him then, he might have thanked him outright, not for his kindness, but for food that would give him that much more strength when he finally escaped.
    That thought carried a twinge of guilt. Once again, he might have been able to pull free from Khenir and make for the walls before the guards could catch up with him. And of course, there was that business with the kiss.
    With Khenir or without him, I’ve got to get out of here, and soon!
He kissed his palm and pressed it to his heart.
Soon, talí. I swear I’ll find a way
…
             
    He woke at Micum Cavish’s house to the familiar smell of sweat and woodsmoke, and the wail of the high wind off the mountains. It moaned through the tall pines outside and drove rain against the shuttered windows and down the chimney. Droplets glittered a moment in the smoky red light, then died, hissing on the smoldering embers.
    For the first time, he and Seregil had shared this guest room at Watermead as lovers rather than friends. Already drained by the emotion of Seregil’s near escape, and hampered by his own inept and embarrassed awkwardness, Alec had thought to wait a little longer, but Seregil had conquered his fears with kisses and caresses, and treated him tenderly, showing Alec the first ways of pleasure rather than taking his own.
    Now, snug and happily dazed under a pile of furs and blankets, with Seregil curled warm against his back, Alec lay there lost in awe of the experience. What was it the Oracle at Rhíminee had told Seregil, soon after they first met? “Father, brother, friend, and lover.”
    Seregil had truly been all four to him now.
    Lover. Talimenios. He couldn’t even think the words yet without blushing hotly, but there was no shame, and no regret. Just wonder.
    And he couldn’t get back to sleep. When he finally pushed up on one elbow to see if daylight was showing through the shutters yet, Seregil made a sleepy sound of protest at the sudden draft sucked under the covers by Alec’s movement and snuggled closer, tightening his arm around Alec’s waist…
    Only now they weren’t at Watermead at all, but in the winter-locked cabin in the mountains. That wasn’t rain hissing on the embers and filtering down through the loose shingles but sparkling white snow. And Alec hadn’t been a blushing innocent for a very long time.
    “Go back to sleep. It’s early, talí,” Alec whispered. He lay down and pulled the blankets up over both of them, trying to remember what they’d put by for breakfast.
    The hunting had been poor for days. A half-frozen venison haunch and a brace of stiff grouse hung from