Page 21

Chapter Twenty - Theo

“ O h, good, he’s alive.”

The smoky, feminine voice is familiar, and the northern burr marks it as clearly Kiteran.

“Of course he’s alive.” A soft male speaker – Carlo Lockehart.

Theo’s eyes crack to take in a blurry world. Nausea rolls. He’s reminded, painfully, of those weeks he spent in Balivartian captivity, and he tests his wrists and ankles, expecting shackles.

But he has full mobility.

And the lingering dryness in his mouth doesn’t speak to lovelace, but to some other drug. No – his connection with his beast remains strong – and his connection with Luka. Luka, who’s pain is so powerful, it sears him. Theo screws his eyes shut. He interrogates the connection between them until he understands that Luka isn’t hurt, just afraid.

Not good, but that, I can handle.

Hold on, Luka. I’m coming to you.

Carlo’s face swings into view. Oddly, his brow is creased with concern.

“As promised, we have not harmed him,” the familiar voice says. Theo still can’t place it. “But this traitor does not deserve such kind treatment. I don’t understand why you wish to aid him with all that he has done.”

“This way will ensure the least amount of bloodshed.” Carlo places cool fingers to Theo’s neck. Theo tenses – his body is still stiff and slow to respond to the threat – but no. Carlo is only taking Theo’s pulse.

“I’m sorry,” Carlo says as he meets Theo’s eyes. “I didn’t know if I could trust you or your people – the rebels, that is – especially not when you came to us with so many… weapons.”

Theo’s arm finally obeys the commands his mind is screaming, but instead of heaving Carlo away, it flies to his side.

His sword is gone.

“Would you give us a moment, Danessi Vittoria?” Carlo asks, his gaze moving to someone behind Theo’s prone body. “And yes, I won’t wait so long to signal you and your people if something goes wrong this time.”

Vittoria?

Theo’s head jerks, but he only catches a glimpse of blonde hair as the Kiteran soldier leaves the room. Growls leak from his twisted lips as he tries to force himself to follow her, but Carlo braces a hand against Theo’s shoulder.

“She will kill you!” Theo snaps, mindlessly shoving. His ears roar as he tries to rise, darkness crowding the edges of his vision.

“She’s helping you. She’s been holding… peace talks with the Council. She seems to know the Kiterans have lost the battle here, but that there are still connections to be made. Because of her experience as a healer, she volunteered to examine you to ensure you were well after I… was forced to apprehend you,” Carlo explains, and despite the stink of fear leaking from him, his voice is calm. “Give yourself another minute. Your body is likely still clearing that sedative I gave you.”

Theo falls back against the cot, a huff of air exploding from his lungs. “Explain,” he growls. With every blink, the world becomes a bit sharper; he’s in a brightly lit room. It’s still day – but afternoon now. At least three or four hours have passed. His back is softly cushioned – he’s resting on some sort of bed. The air stinks of blood… this is some sort of… hospital?

Yes. Luka did say his father is a doctor.

“I’ll explain only if you provide an honest answer to one question,” Carlo says.

When Theo levels a glare with him, Carlo’s throat bobs with an anxious swallow, but he holds Theo’s stare.

“Ask,” Theo says. He strains his ears. There aren’t any sounds of fighting. There is some conversation, distant but loud, taking place outside the building. He’s too far to make out the words.

“Is my son safe?”

Theo looks at Carlo again, and this time, he reads new meaning into the creases between Carlo’s brows and the way he worries at his hands.

“I didn’t realize you cared.” Theo curls his lip, gauging Carlo’s reaction to his cold words.

Carlo’s face twists with fear and anger. He raises a syringe. “If my son isn’t safe, this will stop your heart in seconds. Don’t think I won’t use it against you, even if you’re defenseless.”

“Yes,” Theo growls. “It’s my understanding that’s how you handle all of your victims.”

Carlo’s eyes widen as the color drains from his face.

“You think I didn’t know that you’ve killed sons in the past?” Theo laughs coldly. He tests his limbs again; his arm twitches in response. Another second or two, and he’ll have enough mobility to rip this foolish man’s throat out –

But this is Luka’s father.

Well, maybe he’ll just knock him unconscious.

“It was just Alessandro,” Carlo murmurs, his shoulders loosening. “I didn’t realize… I thought… no, that’s a lie. I knew what I was doing. But Linne… she said she would hurt Luka if I didn’t…” He sniffs loudly, and Theo realizes with horror that Carlo is crying.

“I never wanted to hurt my children. I never wanted to pick between them,” Carlo says to his feet as tears roll down his nose. He shakes.

Theo tenses. His body replies eagerly. He can move now. He can take this man down and move on to the next enemy. He can end this – and he can go to Luka’s side. Luka, whose pain has only grown.

“Answer my question, please,” Carlo says in that awful watery voice. “Is my son safe?”

“He is,” Theo replies with begrudging truth. “But he is in pain. Something has happened – something awful. I need to go to him, and you’re in my way.”

Relief clears the deep lines from Carlo’s face before it is replaced with a different kind of horror. “Linne must have found him.” He closes his eyes. “I thought the Kiterans would stop her before she got to him, but she left with – with Cassian not long ago – oh, oh, no – ”

Theo stands. His knees wobble beneath him, but he manages to stagger to Carlo’s side, pressing his forearm to the man’s soft throat as he shoves the both of them against a wall. A tray of medical tools clatters to the ground while Carlo gurgles in surprise.

“Explain what is happening,” Theo growls. “Or I choke the life from you.” It is an empty threat, but Carlo doesn’t need to know that, and Luka is in so much pain, it’s hard for Theo to concentrate.

Carlo’s eyes roll as he slaps against Theo’s forearms. “Please!” he rasps. “I don’t want to hurt you – especially if you are to Luka… if you are so important to Luka.” He drops the syringe, and it shatters against the tiled floor. “See? Please – release me. This will be easier for me to show you than to explain.”

Theo narrows his eyes.

“If I tell you,” Carlo wheezes, coughing. Theo draws back a hair and Carlo gulps air before continuing, “If I tell you, you won’t believe me. It will be easier for you to see it.”

Theo grinds his teeth together. He reaches for his bond with Luka – the pain there hasn’t dimmed, but it’s close. Luka is here, in Cesscounthe, just as he was hours before. Inside the walls now, if Theo judges the distance correctly.

Carlo could be lying – but why would he have sent Vittoria away if he was leading Theo into a trap now?

Theo releases the man. Carlo staggers, hand flying to his throat as he swallows grateful lungfuls of air.

“Show me then,” Theo says.

Carlo nods, dragging himself upright with the help of the wall. “Very good. Follow me."

Carlo leads Theo into the glowing afternoon to a bright plaza at the heart of the Abraxi District. There, gathered upon cobblestones polished so often that they gleam, is an impossibility that likely never stepped foot into Cesscounthe before:

Kiteran leaders, bristling with furs and weapons, face down robed Siacchian scholars. Opposite them stand Balivartian warriors in their bejeweled scale armor, and, pressed into the tiniest corner, are Damian and half a dozen rebels still wearing their fine Abraxi disguises. Shockingly, the Toula stands with them, palms pressed together, mouth firm. She is the only one not shouting, hands waving about in the air. All faces flush red.

But none are bleeding. None are reaching for their weapons.

“This was all founded on trickery!” shouts the Siacchian scholar. She towers over her fellows, dark hair shorn close to her skull. She projects her voice so it easily carries across the courtyard. “How can we trust any of you?”

“How can we trust you? ” Damian counters. “You took our children!”

Shouts rise again, but the Siacchian scholar from before waves her hand. “As discussed, the children were to be given remedial lessons –”

“You took them in the night!”

“– and they will be returned to you!”

At the head of the Balivartians, a familiar man steps forward. A travel-weary and dust-smeared Cathalan faces the woman with a practiced smile. The Kiterans and Siacchians fall silent, likely seeing the glimmer of a crown at his brow. “If we wish to come to any sort of peace, then you must find it within yourselves to trust.” The words seem to take more effort than they should. Xyla slumps at his side, almost leaning on his shoulder.

At the head of the the Kiteran leaders stands Vittoria, and at her side is –

Octavian.

Theo starts forward, lips curling into a growl, before Carlo catches his arm.

“Release me,” Theo snaps. “That is – I must deal with that man –”

“Is your personal vendetta truly greater than the war between our countries?” Carlo asks. He releases Theo’s arm before Theo can answer.

Theo’s hands curl into fists, and he despises Luka’s father all the more for knowing that Theo will choose to forgo his vengeance without even needing Theo’s response to the question.

“See?” Carlo says as they draw to a stop before the raised forum, still out of eyeshot of the arguing leaders. Nervous soldiers from each of the countries stand at the steps, shifting their weight as they watch their leaders. “Would you have believed me if I told you this was waiting for you?”

Theo refuses to humor the man. “How did this happen?”

At that moment, Cathalan’s eyes settle on Theo across the lifted dais. Even with the distance separating them, exhaustion lines his face.

“My understanding is that the Balivartian king saw a moment of Kiteran weakness and swept in to help us Siacchians reclaim Cesscounthe for ourselves,” Carlo says, though it’s clear from the dryness in his voice that he doesn’t believe this one bit.

“Who told you that?”

Carlo jerks his chin in the direction of the Balivartian king. No, not to Cathalan. “The woman who used to court my son.”

Theo’s gaze shoots to Xyla. Her red curls have been flattened against her skull. There is a smear of blood on her neck. His brow furrows. “Why would Xyla Mobiele tell you such a thing?”

Carlo’s face tightens. “Lower your voice.” He looks again to the gathered leaders, but none other than Cathalan have noticed them – Cathalan, who is now headed toward them, Xyla trailing behind.

“Theodori!” Cathalan says a bit too loudly. Xyla hushes him without breaking stride. Heads turn in their direction, though Octavian pointedly looks straight ahead.

“Perhaps you can explain what in the Mother’s name is going on here,” Theo grumbles when the two halt before them. Cathalan’s gait is unsteady, and he leans toward Xyla as he walks. Xyla responds in turn, as if she is pulled toward the Balivartian king – before she realizes what she is doing, and immediately jerks away.

“We got lucky,” Cathalan says. He pauses a moment before he steps outside of the shadow of the heavy trees, not entering the sunlight. His right hand is heavily wrapped in bandages, Theo realizes. Dark blood stains the fabric around his palm.

“Lucky?” Theo stares doubtfully at the wound.

“Balivartia was already sending a war party toward Cesscounthe. Apparently they encountered a group of soldiers who had been waiting for news at the foot of Akull’s mountain,” Xyla says. She pointedly doesn’t look at Cathalan when he smiles at her. “We met them partway.”

“They were desperate for bloodshed, so it was hard to bargain for peace… but thankfully I was able to convince them that my consort’s life was in danger with a little bit of… improvisation.” Cathalan wiggles his injured hand.

“You decided it best to injure Luka so you could bring bloodthirsty soldiers into an already volatile situation?” Theo growls.

Cathalan narrows his eyes, a flicker of humor lighting his weary face. “You were hoping this injury would have broken the bond, weren’t you? Oh, Theodori. You dog.”

“That is not the case,” Theo says stiffly.

“Oh, something much worse would have had to happen, Theodori, to break the connection between myself and Luka. It’s a good thing I didn’t have to remove my hand or something equally drastic.”

“We had it under control,” Xyla cuts in, seeing Theo’s narrowing eyes.

“Yes! Exactly. We had it under control. I knew they wouldn’t disobey their king –”

“Though opinions about their king seem to be rather low now, especially since they wish to return to the border they were guarding,” Xyla says.

“I told you – there’s no reason to be so angry, Xyla. You’ll get those supplies I promised –”

Again, he tries to meet Xyla’s eyes while she pointedly observes the ground.

Xyla says as she runs the tip of her boot along the shining cobblestone, “The Kiteran leaders didn’t want to face down the rebels – who apparently they thought had occupied Cesscounthe – and the Balivartians. One front, they can face. Two… not so much.”

Theo struggles to piece together their explanation. His body still sags from the drug Carlo injected him with. But really, nothing else matters other than –

“You’ve seen Luka?” Theo asks. Their leaders are in peace talks, even if their surrounding guards look nervous, and the walls of Cesscounthe are not being held by a siege. His life isn’t in immediate danger – though it would be best for him to avoid Kiteran attention for now.

He glances down; he still wears the worn robes the Siacchian rebels gifted him. Good. That will have to act enough as camouflage.

Cathalan's smile fades.

Xyla places a hand on Theo’s arm. “We’ll take you to him.”

Theo’s heart flutters in his chest, nearly choking him with fear and anticipation.

As he allows himself to be led away, he risks one last glance back at the dais. He realizes now, looking upon it, that some part of him should be eager to join the leaders standing there. He should want that power – right? Isn’t that what he fought for?

But no, the only thing that matters now is his own safety and happiness – Luka’s safety and happiness.

The Toula’s eyes meet his. She had wanted to speak to him. Her lips shape words it takes Theo a moment to comprehend:

It will be alright, in the end.

Oddly, it reassures him.

Turning, Octavian catches Theo’s gaze. Their eyes linger on each other; Theo’s old lieutenant looks humbled. His typically brilliant robes are dusty, and bags linger beneath his eyes. But he stands behind Vittoria, the position of second. Likely a recent promotion he was able to lie and scheme his way into.

He got what he wanted.

And though his eyes widen in surprise when he sees Theo, he doesn’t cry out. Instead, he inclines his head slightly.

Perhaps – impossibly – Octavian wants peace, too.

Theo wishes he found Luka sooner.

They enter the Gamgy District on soft feet. Crowds of impyassi, necks now light without the weight of the markers of their beasts, mill about, voices cautiously hopeful. Reform is coming, they whisper. Things will be better now.

Luka is kept in a group of medical tents at the edge of walls of Cesscounthe. Theo is reminded painfully of their first meeting, not far from where they now stand, though under wildly different circumstances.

Theo shoves aside a flapping piece of white canvas to enter the tent, his mouth dry. Despite his connection with Luka – a connection which promised his mate to be alive and well – Theo can’t help but to dream up horrible circumstances, ones where Luka is breathing, but lost to him.

But Luka sits inside the tent, uninjured. Darri, Cathalan's guard, stands at his back. Both look at a tiny figure, bandaged and prone on a lifted cot.

“Oh, Theo,” Luka whispers as he looks up from the body. Cathalan goes to Darri and the two clasp arms as Luka rises. Luka’s cheeks shine with tears, and Theo’s heart seizes. He takes one step forward and then another, until Luka falls into his arms. As Luka burrows into his chest, Theo holds his mate close, breathing him in.

Safe. Luka is safe.

We are both safe.

It is only later that Theo learns the quiet words Luka mumbles into his shoulder are: “They aren’t sure Cassian is going to wake up.”

The days pass like water dripping from the tip of an icicle. Moments catch in Theo’s mind; that night, returning with Carlo, who has been sentenced with house arrest by the Council, to Luka’s childhood home.

Luka, picking up his baby sister, eyes still wet, but now overflowing with joy. He presses the girl to his heart, murmuring impossibly quiet words, before he looks up to meet Theo’s stare.

“Do you want to hold her?” he whispers.

Theo finds himself nodding, extending his arms. Carlo looks on, his newly assigned wardens at his back, as Theo takes the child into a gentle embrace.

“She’s so small,” Theo finds himself whispering.

“What’s her name?” Luka asks Carlo. They are the fourth, fifth, and sixth words he’s spoken to his father, the first three being, How could you?

Carlo attempts a weary smile, pushing his spectacles up his nose. “Isolde.”

“Issy,” Luka says.

The name fits as perfectly as Theo’s hand fits his sword. The little girl’s mouth parts in a tiny yawn as she snuggles closer to him, perfectly warm and perfectly soft, smelling faintly of milk and sleep. Theo presses his nose to the soft curve of her head, delicately patterned with thin strands of dark hair. There is something odd about her eyes. They are a brilliant, piercing blue. Not at all like Luka’s, but an ice shade. The kind of color one would only find in the far north.

“She’s not mine,” Carlo says when Theo returns the child to her crib. “Linne lay with – well, to be honest, I’m not certain.She thought that perhaps I was at fault for the impyassi in our previous children.”

Theo blinks, but Luka doesn’t look surprised.

“Is Cassian your son?” Luka asks. He speaks dully, not looking at his father.

Carlo fumbles with the metal anklet he’s been fixed with. It circles his right leg, chiming as he moves. Its intent is to make it not only impossible for him to move stealthily, but also to clearly identify him to all other Siacchians as a criminal. The guard behind him holds the key, and the man stares straight ahead when Carlo moves.

“I’m not sure if he’s my son by blood,” Carlo says. “But I raised him. He’s my child.”

“And yet, you were still going to help her kill him if he failed the Bombani Exam, were you not?” Luka’s eyes blaze. “And today, you still let her flee with him in tow, having no idea what she was going to do to him.”

Carlo looks away. “He was better off dying by my hand, Luka. Linne would have made it painful.” He pauses, pressing his lips together. “And I truly had no idea what she was going to do today. I did not know she thought to kill him so – so soon.”

“She’s a monster, and you’re a monster for supporting her.” Luka’s voice does not change in volume, but a growl bubbles beneath the surface. Carlo’s guards shift, eyeing the way russet fur sprouts on Luka’s exposed arms.

Before Theo can speak, Luka heaves a sigh. The fur vanishes. “But we’re all monsters here, aren’t we? Some are just better than others.”

And with that, Luka extends a hand to Theo and whispers, “Come to bed with me.”

They find comfort in each other’s bodies. Hidden deep within Luka’s chambers, they pull their clothes away, gentle at first, and then frantic. Luka groans as Theo kisses down the length of his neck, arching against Theo.

“Are you sure?” Theo whispers.

“I-I’ve never been more sure,” Luka gasps. His hands scrabble down Theo’s body, claws sprouting so he can rip away Theo’s borrowed clothes. “I need you inside me.”

Theo’s nostrils flare.

Luka drags his teeth over Theo’s nipple. “I need you to make me feel good. I need you to make me forget.”

Theo’s eyes roll back in his head as Luka kisses down his stomach, hand slipping to grasp his hip –to wrap around his cock.

Theo thrusts into Luka’s lazy jerks, grunting. He shoves Luka back onto the bed.

Luka nearly vanishes beneath the silk sheets, but Theo finds him. Theo rolls Luka onto his stomach, exposing the pale curve of his ass.

As Luka presses against Theo’s seeking fingers, muffling his moans and pants into his pillow, Theo strokes Luka’s cock with his other hand. It’s only when Luka is shuddering and crying out in weak pleas that are more animal than human that Theo eases himself inside.

Luka’s cries grow to shouts. He thrusts himself back against Theo, and Theo grits his teeth, pleasure building. Instead of letting the feeling peak, Theo sinks his fingers into Luka’s hips and rides his mate’s frantic bucks with brutal control, waiting until Luka’s cock splutters dry before he empties himself.

The passing pleasure seems brief in hindsight, but it is enough for Theo to help Luka forget, if only for a moment, the life hanging in the balance.

Ten days pass. Luka spends most of his time at Cassian’s bedside.

Once, Theo finds him in tears, Xyla comforting him.

“The cost of peace was too high,” Luka whimpers into Xyla’s shoulder.

Xyla shakes her head, stroking Luka’s back. “Think of the lives you saved, Luka,” she murmurs. “Your mother would have taken so much more from our people.”

“If only I came sooner,” Luka manages around the tears, voice thick. “I could have stopped her. If only I was faster –if only I was better with my beast –I could have –I could have –”

“There is no road there, Luka,” Xyla says, gentle but firm. She looks up, meeting Theo’s eyes as Theo enters the healer’s tent. “We can only move forward now. He will get better, you just have to wait.”

Theo holds Xyla’s gaze, though oddly, guilt twists in his stomach.

This is the remains of war that he never looked at, not since his parents died. This is the kind of destruction he left in his wake. Before, it was all a game to him – before, the people who died were simply pieces lost on a Ravage board, swept away and easily replaced when they fell. He could ignore their deaths, looking past them to the greater good. To his victory.

But he can’t look away now.

All he can do is wait by Luka’s side, wiping away his tears and holding his hand.