Page 10 of The Thief’s Lord (Catkin Trilogy #3)

Gareth

I gave him my signet ring, and I hadn’t regretted it yet.

I could scarcely believe it, but I could not rue my actions.

Before I lay down in my cot, I had to remind myself to lock the shackle on Dorset’s ankle.

Up until then, even with the kiss and all it could mean between us, I had tried not to focus on him.

It was a battle I lost day by day, night by night.

That night, I eased onto his bed and pulled back the sheet to bare his slender ankle.

The iron cuff felt heavier than usual as I clasped it shut.

His slender bones looked even more fragile set within the iron. I raised my gaze to meet his.

Dark green eyes stared back at me. Was there nothing there?

Behind that blank expression, something flickered.

Sadness? Wariness? Fear? Disappointment?

Or… understanding? I hoped it was the latter.

For a second, my fingers rested on the graceful arch of his foot.

Dorset lazily stretched up to lock his hands behind his head, easing back on his pillow and allowing me to look at his bare chest and the mess of blankets at his waist. Of course, I could not help but notice the swell of light muscle gracing his chest and the deepening blush of his pinked nipples.

When our gazes met again, he winked at me and shot me a sultry look. Teasing me yet again, the little minx.

Little minx. Little Mouse. Dorset.

I was still turning the name over and over in my mind, reveling in it as though I were sampling wine.

Dorset. Little Mouse’s true name. I had a feeling.

It was more than just something in my gut that recognized the truth.

There was also the glimmer of sincerity in Dorset’s eyes. A flash of vulnerability, nakedness.

It cost him much to say those words , I guessed. With those words, I was given hope. The path I feared Dorset walked on need not be the only way. If he can see reason, perhaps... I brought myself up short. Perhaps what, exactly? What do you think will happen?

Turning over in his bed, I grimaced in the dark.

I didn’t want to admit to myself what I had just seen in my mind’s eye.

Dorset sitting in my study. Dorset riding and hunting with me at Baywaters.

Dorset playing with the Wright kits. Dorset standing in my home, free to be himself, free to be with me.

This Dorset laughed freely. There was a sparkle in his eyes, a mischievous twinkle. That’s just a projection , I reminded myself. Dorset isn’t Averil or the rest. He is his own person. There are other sides to him.

Unbidden, other images rose in my mind. Other possibilities. Dorset pacing through the shadows at my side as we hunted the threat to the crown. Dorset fighting at my side. Dorset bowing at a shrine to Meryn. That’s more like the Dorset I’ve learned about , I thought.

Whatever the future was, I found myself hoping that I would somehow remain close to Dorset.

Those desires, unspoken as they were, drove me.

Certainly, Dorset could simply be playing a part, but I couldn’t help but hope.

Perhaps one day, he would be ready to listen to my heart, to see my dreams. Until that time, I could only offer what protection I had.

And so, I had given him my signet. To a wild tom who might just as easily stab me in the heart and flee to his felonious masters.

However, with time, I wondered whether Dorset himself was beginning to question what could be possible. After spending two weeks in the wild together, we had taken measure of each other. I began to understand a little bit of what drove Dorset, what made the tom tick.

When Dorset hunted, the young tom prided himself on his agility and swiftness.

His stealthy movement and his ability to move almost invisibly in the dark.

Dorset disliked unnecessary death, preferring to scout before taking what he needed.

After every successful catch or hunt, I noticed that Dorset would bow his head briefly.

His thick eyelashes would fall closed, and his lips would move in a soft prayer for the departed animal.

Praying to Meryn and Nyria, Dorset told me.

“I don’t know. I suppose that I sound... stupid,” Dorset added after his explanation. He eyed me cautiously. “You don’t pray, so...”

I shrugged. “I’m more of a tom of action.”

“That I can agree with.” Dorset chuckled dryly. “I don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind either,” I said. “The praying, the veneration. We have a mage who has a relationship with a few gods. He told me once that he’s heard their voices. They talk to him.”

Dorset blinked and tilted his head with a small frown.

“The white-haired mage at the court?”

“Yes. Alan Carwick of the White Tower. A better mage, you won’t find. And very... connected with the gods.”

“I recall that day. I was on the edge of the woods.” Dorset frowned. “Did it end well?”

“It did, apparently.” I considered Dorset, noticing the relief that eased the tension from the slighter tom’s shoulders. “You could have taken advantage of the situation, you know. If you had gone down there and killed him, you would have killed two birds in one stone for your masters.”

“He wasn’t my mark.” Dorset’s chin rose sharply. “I’m not-I’m not a killer. No matter what they say—or what you say.”

“I’m getting that.”

A short silence fell, broken only by the cheerful crackling of the fire.

I leaned forward, enjoying the warmth of the flames on my face as I shifted the pieces of fish on the grill.

The skin popped and crackled, sizzling with spices.

The scent wafted up, causing my stomach to growl.

Dorset nudged me and offered me a bite of toasted bread liberally buttered.

Biting into the hunk, my lips grazed the tip of his finger.

Dorset’s eyes darkened, and his tongue flicked out to irresistibly drag across his bottom lip.

“Good, right?” he asked, voice husky.

“You’re a master at toasting,” I agreed.

“Among other things.” He smirked cheekily.

“Among other things,” I echoed, suddenly wishing that time could stop and we could enjoy this moment forever.

It was not to be.

Our time was up. When I met with one of my Blades one morning and went over the reports that had been trickling in, I knew it was time to make a decision.

Would I be taking Dorset to the Capital or not?

If I did, my time with him would be much restricted, and there was no doubt in my mind that Dorset’s life would be in danger.

On the other hand, I couldn’t hide with him in a forest forever, however I might enjoy his company.

King Landis needs me. Hugh and Corrin are great warriors, and with others like Alan at their side, they can form a protective shield, but I need to be there.

Especially if we are to get to the bottom of the mystery and properly pin the blame on the true culprit—Lord Morne.

I heaved a sigh one morning as I watched Dorset shift under his blanket.

The tom moaned a little as a stray ray of sunlight crept through a crack between the thin curtains and lit up his face.

Dorset wrinkled his nose, snuffled, rubbed his face, and then sat up.

Groggily, he looked around and then realized that I was standing, already dressed, looking down at him from the foot of his bed.

“What?” he asked grumpily.

Dorset was never a happy riser in the morning. It was a Munni trait, which I was rather used to. In fact, I found it a little adorable. I couldn’t help but smile.

“We’re going back,” I said. “Pack up.”

Dorset huffed a sigh and pulled the blanket up to his chin. I raised an eyebrow as I noticed that he’d pulled his foot up toward him. Away from me.

“Or I can pack and drag you out to the mare when the time comes,” I said quietly. “Your choice, Dorset.”

“Why are we going back?” he asked.

I sat down on the bed, leaned forward, and considered my hands as they laced together in front of me. Then, I slumped a little, allowing him to see the weight of this decision and how it had affected me.

“We’ve run out of time,” I said simply. “If I had my way, we would...”

We would spend the rest of our life together in Baywaters.

“We would have more time to understand each other, perhaps meet each other halfway.”

“You still... hope for that?” he asked me with a small snort of disbelief.

I sighed. “I hoped so.”

“I didn’t think the king’s shadowy spymaster would be so...” Dorset wrinkled his nose. “Would be such a...”

“Dreamer? Idealist?”

Dorset must have heard the sting of bitterness in my voice. He pressed his lips together and then suddenly scooted forward to butt me in the side with his head and foot. Behind him, his red tail whipped back and forth, and his ears flattened in contrition.

“Sorry, Gareth. I’m just—“ He pushed himself closer to me, snuggling close in a rare show of affection. “I’m just scared. What will happen next? What future do I have? Whether I keep my mouth shut or talk, I’ll never be free.

And you might be offering me protection, but will it be that or are you just using me? ”

The quaver in Dorset’s voice hit me hard.

My arm instantly rose to cradle him, drawing him close.

For a second, I enjoyed the last moments of companionable silence.

I inhaled the moldering odor of old hay, the faint whiff of bacon and fish, and the general scents of the forest. A fresh sea breeze blew in, carrying a hint of salt over the saltwater marsh.

I squeezed his shoulder without further word, and then I gently pulled away, ruffled his hair, offered him a smile, and went to begin preparations.