Page 10 of The Lost Art of Finding Where You Belong (Lost Arts #2)

Apparently, Perian wasn’t very subtle. But she was a doctor, so she probably knew all about the sort of things that people got up to.

He finished cleaning up and apologized for causing a fuss, but the doctor just waved this aside.

Nisal returned with a tray of food, and the doctor insisted he sit and eat it while she went about apportioning the salve into containers .

“You’ve helped a great deal already,” she assured them. “Eat! What sort of a doctor would I be if you collapse in my rooms?”

Well, Perian had to admit that wouldn’t be ideal. Nisal joined him, though he was pretty sure they were doing it only so Perian wasn’t eating alone.

“How are you feeling?” Nisal asked.

“Horribly embarrassed?”

Their lips tipped up into a grin. “Apart from that.”

“Fine. I promise,” he assured them. “It’s a bit like time has lost all meaning.

I mean, it wasn’t like Brannal was spoon-feeding me or watching every meal I ate.

I did a whole bunch of things on my own when he was here; we weren’t tied together or anything, but…

it’s like I forgot how to live on my own. ”

“You’re still getting used to being a couple,” Nisal said calmly.

Perian nodded. “Definitely. And maybe I put so much focus in that, I forgot about being just me? I didn’t know that was something I needed to be worried about, but it kind of seems like it is.”

“So… maybe this separation is a good thing?” Nisal suggested.

He made a face. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

They laughed.

“But,” he admitted, “perhaps it’s brought some things to my attention, and I can work on them better—while Brannal is here, ideally, because I hope he’s here as often as possible.”

“That sounds good,” they agreed.

Somehow, Nisal kept him talking, and the doctor asked if he’d like to see her decant some of the finished health tonic, which could be consumed for worse injuries.

“It helps fight off infection and promote healing,” she explained.

“We all make sure to take some with us whenever we go on patrol,” Nisal said. “It’s always good to have some with you just in case.”

“That sounds like a really excellent idea,” Perian agreed.

He didn’t want anyone to get injured ever, but if they did get injured, he wanted them to have all the salve and tonic they could possibly need.

Before he knew it, the whole afternoon had passed, and the doctor was sending him away with several containers of salve and tonic.

“But—” he protested.

“Just in case,” the doctor repeated.

Perian couldn’t object to that. He didn’t think he would need it, but he hadn’t expected to need the burn salve, either. He and Nisal headed back to Brannal’s rooms together.

They met Arvus in the corridor, and he told them Molun was just finishing up his shift with the Princess, and did they all want to have dinner?

This somehow turned into all of them heading out to the pub, first for dinner, then for drinking, and finally for dancing.

For some reason, Perian hadn’t thought Nisal would like dancing, but it turned out he was completely wrong.

Nisal loved dancing, and Perian had a lot of fun dancing with them because they could both be just a little bit handsy without worrying the other person was going to get the wrong impression.

Molun and Arvus were practically making out on the dance floor, apparently happy with all the hands, because sometimes they would sandwich someone between them and dance like that, clearly all enjoying themselves.

Perian was pleasantly exhausted by the time they finally stumbled back to the table, finished the last of their pints, and decided it was time to head home.

It soon became obvious that Molun and Arvus had found someone they would like to keep playing with, but Arvus checked with Perian—which he took to mean Brannal had probably mentioned his whole “be intimate while I’m away” plan to his friends.

Perian assured Arvus that he would be absolutely fine and they should enjoy themselves.

Nisal slung an arm around Perian’s shoulder.

Enunciating each word with great care, they pronounced, “I will make sure he gets home.”

Perian was pretty sure he could manage that part, but he didn’t mind the company—and it meant he could make sure Nisal got home, too. They were fierce and could blast anyone with the air they controlled, but they didn’t look particularly fierce. There was safety in numbers.

Perian still hadn’t learned how to use a knife, after all. Although he was better equipped now to knee, punch, kick, or block someone, he was far from an expert. He was also aware that training and real-life scenarios weren’t the same .

There was a lot that he didn’t really remember about the night he’d been attacked, just scattered images, the feeling of lying on the cobblestones, pain… and then Brannal, there to rescue him like his very own hero. He sighed.

Nisal nudged him with their elbow.

“What was that for? You being sad again?”

Perian snorted. “I was totally being sad again, yeah. Everything makes me think of Brannal. Is that normal?”

They made a scoffing sound. “’Course it’s not normal. Imagine if everyone thought of Brannal all the time.”

This made Perian laugh. He was pretty sure Nisal had had a little too much to drink.

They were relatively small, after all, a good five inches shorter than him, and Perian had lost track of how much alcohol they’d all consumed.

Perian didn’t drink very often. He’d found that it gave him a bit of a buzz, but it didn’t seem to do as much good (or bad) as others reported. He could mostly take it or leave it.

“I didn’t mean like that,” Perian told Nisal as seriously as he could. “I mean, is it normal for me ? Is thinking about the person you’re missing normal in this sort of situation?”

“Oooh,” they said, drawing the word out with exaggerated comprehension. “I think that’s pretty normal, yeah. Missing people is awful.”

Perian huffed a laugh. “Yes, it is. I don’t mean to be depressing, though.”

They shook their head, which was a mistake, since it sent them tottering to the side at risk of losing their balance, and Perian had to grab them. He looped their arms together and decided this was a much safer way to travel.

“You’re not depressing,” Nisal said firmly. “You’re sad, and you’re allowed to be sad. What kind of a friend would I be if I didn’t support you just because you were sad? In fact, you should get extra support when you’re sad, shouldn’t you?”

And Perian, who’d never really had friends before, not like this, since he’d grown up on the estate with basically just his father, could only sniff a little and smile at them.

“That sounds really good, thank you.”

They managed a nod that only made them wobble a little, and the two of them continued back to the castle. Nisal brought him all the way back to Brannal’s room—or maybe at this point, Perian was really the one leading them.

“Uh, where’s your room?” he asked.

He knew Nisal had said they were going to make sure he got home, but Perian didn’t feel super comfortable letting them leave on their own at this point.

Nisal looked around the room, blinking at it.

“This is not it.”

Perian huffed a breath. “This is Brannal’s room.”

They kept staring for a long moment, and then their face lit up. “This is Brannal’s room.”

He pressed his lips together and tried not to laugh. “Yes, it is.”

Nisal turned to him excitedly and pushed their finger into his chest.

“Peri, this is Brannal’s room.”

Perian nodded, not sure about the nickname but not about to object right now. “Right.”

Poke, poke.

“You know what this means?” they asked.

“I have no idea,” he said, entertained but entirely confused.

“You should be less sad here. Because Brannal is all around you.”

Perian blew out a breath, touched. He’d expected a drunken non sequitur, and instead, they’d hit him right in the gut with feelings .

“It is nice to have these reminders,” he agreed. “I mean, it would be better if he were actually here, but it’s a good reminder that he’s coming back, and if I curl up in the bed, it still smells a bit like him.”

Nisal’s face lit up with curiosity.

“Does it really? Lemme see.”

Perian considered trying to protest, but in the end just gave in to the inevitable and let them push their way into the bedroom and face plant on the bed. There was the sound of very loud sniffing.

“Uh… maybe? What does Brannal smell like?”

Perian could only laugh and come to flop onto the bed next to them.

“It’s kind of hard to describe what another person smells like. Brannal smells like Brannal.”

They tilted a bit to the side so they weren’t face-first in the blanket anymore.

“That is… not helpful,” they said, squinting at him like he was defying logic .

“I know,” he agreed. “Uh… he smells like leather, usually, since he’s all done up in his Mage Warrior garb.”

Nisal managed to raise their hand.

“I wear leather. Do I smell like Brannal?”

They looked a mixture of intrigued and a bit alarmed by this prospect.

Oh, wow, this was going to be even more complicated than he’d expected.

“You both have that smell in common,” he clarified.

They considered this and then nodded, rubbing their cheek against the blanket as a result.

“Ooh, soft.”

Perian thought maybe that was going to be the end of it, but then they demanded, “What else?”

Perian tried to actually think about it.

“So, um, the leather, like I said, and a hint of… burning, maybe. Smoke. Not in a bad way, but like there’s a fireplace nearby, something that will warm you on a cold winter’s night.

It’s really appealing. I guess it’s probably because he controls fire.

I suppose that might mean Cormal smells like that too, and all I can say is that it must not be as appealing on him. ”

Really, perish the thought. “Um, what else? Well, he uses a soap that smells a bit like trees and the outdoors, so there’s a hint of that, too.”

Perian closed his eyes and tried to remember, thought of all the times they’d been pressed skin to skin, when his head had been tucked up against Brannal’s chest or shoulder. If he closed his eyes and inhaled, what did he smell?

“There’s something underlying it all, something that I don’t think smells like anything else.

There’s a bit of sweat, the good male kind—I mean, because I like male sweat, nothing against female or nonbinary sweat.

If he’s been drinking tea, which seems to be often, then there’ll be a hint of tea leaves, too.

And maybe… books, I think. I bit of old books, parchment, and paper from when he’s been reading or working on reports.

And maybe a bit of metal, if he’s been working out.

Or maybe just because he has so many daggers and swords. ”

All right, only one sword. But multiple daggers. He drew a deep breath and blew it out. “So, uh, yeah, that’s what Brannal smells like. Does that answer your question?”

The sound of snoring answered him, and Perian snorted with laughter.

Even though he was still sad that Brannal wasn’t actually here, he also felt a bit closer to him.

Considering Nisal, he promptly gave up the idea of waking them and trying to get them back to their room since he didn’t know where it was.

Instead, he just pulled the blanket from the foot of the bed up over their sleeping form.

He hoped neither of them were going to wind up injured by any of Nisal’s weapons.

He thought about trying to get some of them off, but he decided that trying to partially undress a drunk Mage Warrior was just not a good idea.

Perian crawled under the covers, burying his face back into the pillow that didn’t smell as much like Brannal now because Perian kept sleeping with it. But a hint of the scent was still there, and he inhaled deeply, laughed at himself, and let his eyes drift shut.