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Chapter Twelve - Theo

O n the third day of Theo’s slow journey to Cesscounthe, an unwelcome figure appears north of him, outlined against the gray evening. The figure’s Kiteran horse moves fluidly through the snow-dusted road, tiredness drawing its pace to a walk.

“Theodori!” the figure calls, and Theo lengthens his stride.

The first two days he made his journey south in wolf-form. He shifted back into his human flesh that morning in hopes of eating a warm meal prepared with opposable thumbs, wrapping himself in furs and skin he kept draped around his wolf’s neck. He considers now changing back; he’ll surely be able to outrun this tired horse.

But no –if the Snake of the South is traveling during the day, Luka’s life will be in danger. And Theo can’t have that.

So Theo jerks to a halt, turning his back to the northern wind. Furs flap against his cheek as he glares into the growing night.

The Balivartian king pulls to a halt beside him. The Kiteran horse is large but old, a scarred creature that is one of the few allowed to retire from the battlefields. Its dinner plate sized hooves leave frown-like holes in the snow as it snorts, releasing a jet of steam into Theo’s face.

Cathalan looks awful; his skin has a sallow undertone and there are deep bags beneath his eyes. And his hands – are his fingers crusted with old blood?

“I thought I might catch up with you,” Cathalan says. There’s a fleck of something red-brown at the corner of his mouth that he smears away with a dart of his tongue.

“Why are you not protecting Luka?” Theo growls. His hand hovers above a sword he’d uncovered that morning from a settlement abandoned near the Siacchian border.

“Now, now,” Cathalan says. “There’s no need for that, Theodori.” He raises his hands from the reins. His skin is slightly pink and shiny beneath his cloak. The day, Theo recalls, has been overcast, but likely sunny enough to burn the monstrous skin of the Balivartian king.

Cathalan dismounts from the horse. “It’s wonderful that I caught you just in time for the evening meal! What do you have for us?”

Theo’s hand has yet to leave his sword’s hilt. “Where is Luka?”

“Come now, Theodori. I’ve come a long way to get to you. I had to clear some people out of the way, too.” He flaps his rust-colored fingertips. “And surely you still feel Luka with your mating bond, yes?” Cathalan wiggles his brows.

Theo’s mind eagerly conjures the moment when said mating bond was finally solidified. Luka’s soft sighs against Theo’s naked skin –the press of their lips –Theo licking his way down Luka’s body and then plunging inside –

No. You can’t think about that now.

“Luka told you?” Theo says, voice little more than a barely restrained growl.

Cathalan barks a surprised laugh. Theo blinks at the sound. All of Cathalan’s chuckles and chortles sound so rehearsed, like each sound is measured and counted to be the perfect amount of amused–but also the perfect amount of grating. But this outburst sounds honest.

“Of course not,” Cathalan says, waving his hand. “But I wasn’t born yesterday –the two of you wander off into the daylight and then come back, all pink-cheeked and smelling like a whore house? What was I supposed to think?”

Theo settles on glaring because he can’t think of anything better to say. Finally, he grinds out his first question: “Where is Luka?”

“I didn’t leave him unprotected, Theodori,” Cathalan says. He pulls the horse’s reins and walks slowly toward a copse of trees. “This should be shelter enough for the night, don’t you think?” The horse trails along behind the Balivartian king, mindlessly obedient.

Cathalan continues, “We freed Darri. I left him behind –despite his multiple protests, you should know –to watch Luka. Oh, don’t make that face now, Theodori. You know you can’t harm me without hurting Luka, don’t you? Your barbarian people know that too, and they really don’t want an international incident on their hands. They’re being much more respectful now that they know I am king.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t turn around to wiggle his brows at Theo again –Theo isn’t sure he’d be able to resist the urge to strangle the man if he did –but Theo can hear the gesture in Cathalan’s half-laughing tone.

“The Elders need to deal with someone they can trust, and they will never trust me, even if I far outrank Luka. Luka is Siacchian first, my First Consort second to them. A Siacchian isn’t an automatic enemy.” Cathalan strokes his horse’s dark flank. “Walk with me now, Theodori. It will be dark soon, and I have kindling and dinner in my saddlebags –and you look like you have nothing more than old boot leather to chew on.”

“The Kiterans really just let you go?”

Cathalan finally spares him a smile thrown carelessly over his shoulder. “No, Theodori, they didn’t just let me go . Like I said, I had to clear some people out of the way. I’m sure it was no one you knew.”

Theo hesitates as he watches the distance between Cathalan and himself grow wider and wider. The Balivartian king and his borrowed Kiteran horse cast long, purple shadows against the snowy hillside, like bruises against pale skin. The gray sunset fades to grayer evening, and slowly color drains from the world, replaced with the glow of the moon. He should feel more anger at Cathalan having killed one of his people, but instead he feels nothing but relief because – Luka is still alive. Luka is still safe.

I would have traded anything for such news .

Theo tucks his chin, resigning himself to an evening of talking, and follows Cathalan.

They make camp beneath the stout, leafless trees. Cathalan clears the ground and Theo breathes life into the kindling, and before long they’re crouched around a humble fire, the horse warm against their backs and bowls of rations from Cathalan’s saddlebags heating their hands.

Cathalan chats aimlessly.

It’s like he hates silence, Theo thinks as he chews his way through dried jerky and thin soup, watching the king out of the corner of his eye.

What does Luka see in this man?

He is attractive, that much is certain, but there’s little more to him besides. The sharp lines of his jaw grow more pointed in the flickering shadow of the firelight. The veins in his hands more prominent. His brown eyes catch and reflect the flames, turning his gaze to a dancing amber.

“–and I am really sorry about that,” Cathalan finishes. It’s only when he looks at Theo, his eyes a little too intent and almost –warm? Sympathetic? –that Theo realizes he should have been listening.

Theo takes his time as he finishes chewing through his rations, letting the king squirm in something akin to discomfort before he says, “Sorry for what?”

“Were you really not listening to all of –Theodori! I was pouring my heart out to you!” Cathalan glares, and Theo is surprised to see genuine anger in his face.

Theo wrestles with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment. Finally, he says slowly, as if speaking to a child, “We are not friends, Cathalan.”

Cathalan’s expression softens minutely, which frustrates Theo even more. “No,” he says. “We are enemies still, I imagine. But we are also allies, are we not? We’re both trying to end this war.”

“And you are still trying to win Cesscounthe and the West because you gave me Luka, and I must assist you in that effort.”

“I don’t believe I gave you Luka. Luka is not a person that can simply be given. I just let the two of you know where you could find each other.” Cathalan chews thoughtfully before continuing. The fire crackles as it devours a sap-filled log. “And I’m not sure if I want Cesscounthe any longer.”

“What?” Theo cannot keep the shock from his voice.

“There is more to this world than conquering and power, Theodori – as I’m sure you’ve learned. As the third heir, I was never raised for ruling. I was to be a weapon. I was to expand our kingdom. But now I … I have seen the cost of such an upbringing. Now, I can see that there is far more to life than victory. A good king is not a bloodthirsty, conniving man, but a kind one.”

Theo gapes at the Balivartian king, struggling to find words. This is the man who haunted his nightmares. This is the man who took his mother and father from him. The Snake of the South. Cathalan was not allowed to rest, not in Theo’s thoughts. He was always driving Theo forward – in the Kiteran military, it was vengeance and a desire for power, power to keep himself and his loved ones safe, that forced Theo to ascend the ranks.

No, a monster like that isn’t allowed to say there is anything that matters more than conquering and power .

Theo’s hands curl into fists. “What do you mean by that?” He is shocked by how evenly his voice emerges.

Cathalan stares into the flames. “Which would you prefer, Luka or victory?”

“That’s not even a comparison.”

“Exactly.” Cathalan meets Theo’s gaze, and Theo tries to interpret the expression resting there; it’s like looking into a mirror and seeing the version of himself months ago, when he first met Luka. When he realized that his life as he knew it was about to end – horribly – and that he wouldn’t care because something more important was there.

“I’ll think about it,” Cathalan says. “But thoughts of conquering Cesscounthe are too small for me now. There is so much more I can accomplish, don’t you think?”

Theo tenses under Cathalan’s teasing smile.

“Besides, there are far more important things for us to discuss, aren’t there, Theodori? We’re both heading to Cesscounthe, aren’t we? To help Luka and Xyla? What’s your plan?”

“As if I would share it with the likes of you,” Theo growls automatically, despite the foolishness of the statement.

Cathalan laughs like this is a very good joke. “Xyla will hopefully have already informed the rebels that support is coming –”

“You can’t be serious,” Theo says. “You’re going to send your own people to help a woman you just met?”

Cathalan looks away, shrugging. “The bonds of prison are not easily broken.” He continues then as if Theo hasn’t spoken, “We’ll want to stir the rebellion so when the Kiterans arrive, it will look exactly as we reported: that Cesscounthe has fallen.”

“You’ve just been crowned king! You’ve been so careful to craft a terrifying reputation – that will be ruined if you don’t have an explanation for your people –”

“Oh, Theodori!” Cathalan claps a hand to his chest. “I didn’t realize you cared!”

Theo’s mouth snaps shut because – well – he doesn’t care. Not really.

“I guess it would make sense if you do,” Cathalan continues. “Not only are we allies, but we’re also brothers in a way, aren’t we?”

Theo chokes and then glances at Cathalan’s watery soup.

“What is it?” Cathalan asks.

“Just checking for alcohol.”

Cathalan chuckles merrily. “No need for that! Think about it, Theodori; you are mated to Luka and I am married to him. Does that not, in some twisted way, make us brothers of some nature? Or if not that…”

He looks at Theo again, his gaze changing. It takes Theo a moment to understand what the darkening of the Balivartian’s eyes and the straightening of his shoulders signifies:

Arousal.

Theo flies to his feet. “Now I know you must be joking –”

Cathalan smiles. He brushes his hand, lightly, against his inner forearm. “Did you know, Theodori, that the marriage bond between myself and Luka conveys more than just sensations of pain?”

Theo pauses.

“What Luka feels, I feel. When Luka feels pain, I feel pain. When Luka feels… pleasure, I feel pleasure.”

Images of Luka, body braced tight as an orgasm rocked through him – as he came in Theo’s mouth, as he curled and flushed beneath Theo’s talented fingers, flash through Theo’s thoughts.

“You… felt what I was doing to him,” Theo says.

“You’re as clever as they always claimed.” Cathalan’s fingers brush against his own collarbone, barely exposed beneath his furs. “And what I feel, Luka feels – and what Luka feels…”

Distantly, as if in a dream, pleasure stirs in Theo’s stomach.

Cathalan grins at him. “You do feel it, don’t you?”

Theo scowls at him. “Nothing. I feel nothing.”

“Don’t be such a prickly pear, Theodori.”

“I would never do that to Luka.”

“Didn’t you hear what I said? Luka feels what we both feel.”

“But I haven’t asked him first,” Theo bites out. “And you don’t care for him like that, do you?”

He glares at the Balivartian king. “No,” Theo continues. “You don’t care for Luka like that, and you may be attracted to the both of us – to me , but you don’t care about me like that either. You like Xyla Mobiele – you like her far too much.”

Theo steps toward Cathalan, who rises to his feet, the smile falling from his face.

Theo says, “Why are you teasing me like this?”

Cathalan shrugs, though the gesture is somewhat manic. “What? I can’t ask for a once-in-a-lifetime psychic threesome?”

And despite everything , the thought does make Theo’s cock twitch with interest.

For a moment, Theo entertains the idea; Luka, likely preparing for his own journey to Cesscounthe, curled in his sleeping furs. Would he feel the sensations two-fold, coming from both Cathalan and Theo? All Theo would need to do is press his lips to Cathalan’s throat – right there, where his pulse flickers, and reach beneath his belt. Already, he can see the curve of Cathalan’s own interest in his trousers, ready for Theo’s hand. Theo would wrap his hands around Cathalan’s cock, and the sensation would reach Luka, and then Theo – would it be like stroking himself?

What if I put my lips on him?

What if I –

“No,” Theo says, crushing the thought. “Not after all that we’ve done to each other.”

Cathalan’s eyes drop to the snow melting at their feet. Beyond the flickering light of their campfire, the leafless trees sway with a soft wind.

“I killed your sister,” Theo says. “You can never forgive me for that.”

“You were a child,” Cathalan whispers. “We were both so young.”

For the second time that night, Theo is shocked, and this time, he can’t control his stuttering response. “Tha-that’s no excuse.”

“We should have never been on that battlefield. Being a prodigy is not an excuse for such poor leadership.”

“Had I been ten years older, I would have killed her just the same –”

“– stop saying that.”

“Saying what? That I killed her? Because it’s the truth –”

“ Stop .” Cathalan raises his head, nostrils flared. He bares his teeth, which have grown long and inhuman. The fangs gleam in the firelight. Strangely – wrongly – the sight makes Theo’s cock twitch.

“I forgive you, Theodori. Is that what you want to hear? My sister died – she was killed by you ten years ago, and I can never seek revenge against you because you were a soldier. We were both soldiers, fighting in a pointless war. You are mated to a dear friend of mine, and I never want to cause him pain. And he loves you – for some reason.” Cathalan’s blazing fury fades with each word into a sadness so deep, Theo must look away.

Cathalan presses his hands against his face. “If I continue hating you, I don’t think I will like the person I become.”

The fire crackles. The stars peer down, silent observers, as Cathalan says quietly, so quiet, it is nearly lost to the night: “So I forgive you, Theodori Hunter Wolf-Born.”

True silence descends between them, as soft and delicate as freshly fallen snow.

Theo breaks it with a sigh. “Fine,” he grumbles. “I forgive you, too.”

Cathalan laughs wetly, and Theo realizes, with no small measure of horror, that the Balivartian king is crying.

“You don’t have to forgive me,” Cathalan says.

“I don’t care,” Theo says. “I do forgive you. I made a mistake. I should have moved my parents away from the border. It was the…” His words tangle in his throat, caught on the scent of burning flesh, still all-too-fresh in his memories. “It was the right decision for you to make. I would have done the same.”

Cathalan shakes his head, pressing his hands to his cheeks. He clears away tears. “It didn’t work though. I was so afraid when I learned your spirit wasn’t broken. I was terrified of who you would take from me next.”

Theo closes his eyes. “I… I pushed everyone away. I was so careful to not care about anyone again – because I thought you would kill them.”

“We’re both a couple of fools, aren’t we?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Theodori grumbles. “One fool, and one simpleton.”

Cathalan chuckles and sits. He turns his head to his horse’s side. The beast doesn’t even stir. His face almost vanishes beneath his furs, his tanned cheeks flushed and his eyes watery. “I’m sorry I haunted your life for so long, Theodori.”

Theo chews through the words, and for the first time, looking at the Snake of the South doesn’t conjure memories of roasted flesh and poor choices. Instead, he just sees a man. Part of himself hates that. You’re growing soft, a voice hisses inside, but it is an unfamiliar, quiet voice now. Another, bigger, part of himself feels strangely… proud.

“I’m sorry your sister died because of me.”

Cathalan stiffens and then relaxes. The firelight casts strange shadows on his face. He is quiet for so long, Theo is sure he has fallen asleep. But then the Balivartian king murmurs, words barely audible over the crackle of the fire, “I think… I don’t mind having you as Luka’s mate.”

“I’d rather you not be Luka’s husband.”

“Well, mistakes were made.” Cathalan rubs his fingers against the scar on his palm. “I did what I was trained to do: make the best of a bad situation. I knew I couldn’t trust either of you.”

He flops onto his back and rolls onto his side, and after another long silence, he hisses, “Also, I’m sorry I tried to seduce you.”

“Don’t apologize for that yet,” Theo says, closing his eyes. Despite the tightness in his chest, his cock pulses in his trousers. He grits his teeth as a phantom hand strokes him – Luka .

Cathalan chuckles softly. “Ah,” he says. “It seems the matter will be answered for us.”

They both sit in tense silence as Luka takes matters in his own hands. Pleasure ripples across his mate bond and is surely rebounded through the marriage bond between Luka and Cathalan. He is careful not to look at the man across from him, even as muffled moans fill the night air. It doesn’t take long for them to both turn in opposite directions and shudder into the snow, their groans sounding in unison as Luka answers their problem for them.

“Yes, don’t apologize for the seduction yet,” Theo says after they have both returned to their sleeping furs. He is suddenly very tired. “I’ll need to mull over forgiving you for at least another ten years.”