Page 3

Roan

I can’t help but look up at the window overlooking the gardens as I climb into my truck, just like I’ve done every time it catches my peripheral vision. It’s the corner room, and as usual at this time of day, the blinds are completely drawn.

It’s Theo’s room.

He’s been lying in that room, marinating in his own depression for the past few days. It’s been easy to put it down to exhaustion. That he needs to rest. But after yesterday's “love in” as Edith and Seff had dubbed it, it was apparent that it’s more than just needing to sleep.

Unfortunately, it didn’t go as well as the others had hoped. It had only seemed to overwhelm him, and now he’s even more shut off than he was before. I didn’t even know that was possible.

I’d given Tor and Calean a lot of shit for not wanting to leave yesterday; they’d needed to get back to the farm, and I’d promised we’d watch him. Take care of him. But now that it’s my turn to get in the car and leave, I can’t.

I need to go to Twin Heads, to go pick up our fresh produce and other supplies. And maybe I need to get away from here, from Theo and everyone . Get out of my head for a bit.

Having him here, so fucking close, is doing something to me. Maybe it’s just stress from everything that’s happened. Mauvy the little faun who is my life-long best friend and co-boss of the Black Stump Tavern, keeps giving that look, asking if I want to talk.

But I don’t. I know the others are feeling some heavy shit after what happened in the Woods, but I’m not. Okay, there’s been a couple of sleepless nights where I’ve woken up in a bit of a panic, but that seems normal all things considered.

It’s just Theo and the feral drive to go to him. Protect him and watch over him.

But I can’t. It makes him uncomfortable; I saw it, from the moment he flinched when Edith woke him from his magical sleep, to the unease in his stance whenever I got too close. I’d been shocked when I’d offered for him to stay here at the Black Stump with me. I hadn’t even had the thought before it came out of my mouth.

I’d been even more shocked when he'd agreed.

Not that it’s doing him any good.

Shouts from the tavern draw me from my reverie, rapping some sense into my skull. Maybe that hit to the horns had done some damage to my brain. Without another look, just in case I get distracted yet again, I climb into the cab and slam the door. The hunk of metal acts like a barrier between me and the tavern. I already feel a little less clouded. Clearer.

With the sun shining, my radio cranking and the drive smooth as a baby's butt, I make my way to Twin Heads.

Pushing all thoughts of Theo, and the Whisper Woods, murderous ancient fae, and primitive urges to claim like a barbarian firmly out of my mind.

***

I don’t even know how I came into the second-hand bookshop. But on my way out of town, after finishing all my errands, my knowing told me to pull over.

It led me here. To the Young Adult section.

I scan the shelves, wondering why I need to be here. But then I see it.

Sitting there, in used but still very readable condition, is a complete set of Radomir, Creator of Darkness . I pick up the first book, turning it over in my hands. I read the lot of them as a teen. Not that they were really that appropriate, especially as they go along in the series. But I loved them. They were dark and gruesome, but also funny. Very weird too.

I bet Theo would love them .

Well fuck. There it is. Considering I’m a good ten years older than him, he may not have read them. Huffing a sigh, I slide the book back on the shelf along with the others and turn to walk through the narrow, rickety shelves right out of the shops.

But something stops me.

That fucking fae-tuition has got me again. I need the books. Theo needs the books.

My head hangs heavy as I turn back and pull the books off the shelves, stacking them in my arms. Paying for them is relatively painless, the crotchety old store owner only sniffs in general disdain for my book choice before giving me my receipt.

I place them carefully in an old lettuce box in the passenger footwell of the truck. That intuition now satisfied, the drive home is a breeze. But by the time I make it back, self doubt has gnawed away at my decision. It feels like overstepping again.

And so, after unpacking the rest of the truck, I leave the books where they are. Safe.

***

He’s at the window again. He definitely can’t see me. I know because I’ve seen him every night for the past few evenings. Like a ghost haunting my tavern, he gets up when it's quiet, and everyone is asleep.

Everyone but me.

It was late the first time that I saw him. I had been on the close shift, and on my way back to my house.

The little one behind the tavern.

If I ended up restructuring the roster to have me closing every night since, well, that is just because I’m a good boss.

Back lit by the lamps in his room, his silhouette wanders back and forth, before he settles in front of the window. He’s cracked it open, just a little, to let in the breeze. It shouldn’t make me pleased to see him up and moving, but it does. Logically I know he has been. Seldon always reports back - only somewhat sarcastically - that the food’s been eaten, and the bathroom’s been used. Even the Godsawful tea Edith has been stinking up the Black Stump with for him is being drunk.

I swear, I can still smell the putrid brew in the night air, mixed with the smell of the Woods and the dying weeds mouldering in the overrun kitchen gardens.

I don’t know how long I stand there, watching him stare out at the night sky. Probably far too long, considering the exhaustion in my body. But eventually he gets up and shuts the window. When the curtains draw close, I finally move. My feet are aching and my back is screaming with tension on the short walk to my house. It was the staff quarters or maybe even just storage with how small it is, before it was converted to a small house. The family, my family, lived in the big house next to it. It’s dark and empty now.

On the way home I pass my truck, parked off to the edge of the property. The books are still there on the front seat. I must be more tired than I realise because I can almost feel them calling me a coward for not handing them over.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll do it.

Decision made, I head home at last for a much needed rest.

***

I did not, in fact, take the books to Theo the following day. Theo, Caelan, Seff, and Edith had all made appearances throughout the day and so I’d thought it best to not to interrupt their time together.

But they haven’t visited today. Well, Edith has, but she’s downstairs engrossed in a game of poker. I’d warned Mauvy to not let them turn it into another round of strip poker, but she hadn’t exactly given me confidence in her agreement. Rather the opposite actually.

At least, when I liberated Theo’s dinner tray from her hands, Edith's antics distracted her from the other type of looks she’s been giving me. The one where her eyebrow arches, and her lips purse in a kind of smile and a little wrinkle forms around her eyes.

She gets it whenever I mention Theo. Which is a lot more than I realise considering how often I get the look from her. I don’t know which is worse; the Theo Look or the Concerned Look .

My hands are heavy as I knock on the door. Despite it being my tavern, I am nervous about going into the room.

He doesn’t respond to the knock, but Seldon had let me know that’s normal. In fact, more often than not, he’s been huddled in his pile of blankets fast asleep. So, juggling the tray laden with Mauvy’s cooking and the books, I pull out my master key and let myself in, not at all prepared for what’s on the other side.

The first thing that hits me is the smell. Just a wall of musty depression smacking me in the face like a wet towel.

“Hello? Theo? I have your dinner.” On my first glance around the room, I can’t spot him. Maybe he’s in the bathroom? But no, I realise, setting the tray down on the small table. He is, in fact, hiding amongst the big nest of blankets in the middle of the bed. I wouldn’t have spotted him if not for an errant copper curl peeking out of the navy and green quilt cover.

“I’ll just put it here, shall I?” It feels strange, talking to a lump of blankets, but I can feel his eyes on me. The same feral pull towards Theo, the one that has been tormenting me since the day I found him on Marieth’s table, ready to be sacrificed, harangues me to stay. To just spend one more minute in his company.

Shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, I scratch at the base of my horn and survey the room. The innkeeper in me is glad that he has at least kept his mess confined to the bed. The room is otherwise almost completely undisturbed. But those sheets really need changing. So far no one has managed to coax him out of bed long enough to get the job done.

Someone has delivered chocolates. The wrappers are piled sky high on the bedside table, along with a discarded mug. That he’s drinking the tea is a small comfort. There is also a neon green plastic yard cup with an extra long straw angled towards the pillow. It’s empty now, but at least he’s had some water.

Every little sign that he is doing something to take care of himself fills me with a little more hope. Even so, enough is enough. I know that everyone - everyone but me that is - says that he needs time, but maybe gentle hands aren’t helping as much as they are all thinking.

I take a deep breath, which I instantly regret, and take the box of twelve books to place them on the chest of drawers on the other side of the fire.

“I bought you some books. I’ll leave them here. You need to eat more of your dinner.” The words tumble out a lot sterner than I intend, but holding back the lecture that wants to spew forth is a challenge.

There is a shuffle under the blankets as I move around the room, using the tea towel I always have on hand to wipe down various surfaces until I reach the bedside table. Scooping the chocolate wrappers up and tucking them into the front pocket of my apron for disposal later, I catch his unnaturally white face glaring out at me from under the blankets.

“Why would you do that? It’s not like I need the books without my gift.” He spits the words like the venom of a childish, tiny snake on the attack.

I bend to swipe up the yard cup so he can’t see the face I pull. He does hear my loud snort though, as I take the cup to the bathroom and quickly refill it. While I’m in there, I rehang the towels too, noting that he is, at least, showering too.

“You don’t need to be a genius to read Theo.” Embarrassment and irritation prickle under my skin at Theo’s haughty dismissal of my present. He’s still scowling away at me when I reenter the bedroom.

His unique brown eyes, rimmed with gold with bright golden flecks, are blazing with anger, but hey, after days of nothing but apathy, I’ll take anger. When I lean against the door frame, folding my arms over my chest, I swear I see Theo’s eyes flick to my biceps straining under my shirt. But when I blink again, he’s back to trying to kill me with his mind from the comfort of his nest.

“When was the last time you read for fun?” He looks so perplexed he stops trying to set fire to me with his thoughts.

“What do you mean? I read all the time.” His voice, already strained from lack of use, goes oddly high pitched as he gets even more defensive, scrambling up onto his knees to argue, blankets still wrapped firmly around his body.

Not going to lie, I enjoy seeing this more fiery side of him. It’s shown up a few times on our trek home, and it does something to me.

“Right, yes, we all know you’re a genius—” his outraged snort interrupts me.

“ Was. Was a genius Roan. My gift is gone now, remember?” I suck at my teeth and nod, not giving into the bitterness of his words.

“Right, your gift is gone, and you’re no longer a genius. But that’s not what I asked. When was the last time that you, Theo, read a book, any book , for the fun of it?” He looks… stunned. Like I’ve smacked him across the face with a dead fish, and I realise I’ve hit a nerve. “Gods, when was the last time that you did anything for the fun of it? Because it was what you , Theo Hivercouer, wanted?” I watch as a myriad of emotions play across his face, until his pale, deathly white cheeks flush red hot, his eyes narrowing in outrage.

“You don’t know anything about me, Roan. Get out of my room. NOW!” With a tired sigh, I ignore his bellowing outrage and heave myself off the bathroom door to leave.

“Right, suit yourself. Either way, the books are on the drawers.” I pause, hand on the door, unsure whether to push my luck any further. But then, I decide, in for a penny, in for a pound, and I turn back to face him, huddled back inside his blankets. “And this room stinks. The bedding needs to be changed, and the room aired. If you aren’t going to leave your nest long enough to let someone else do it, I’ll have sheets brought up, and you can do it yourself.”

“Fine. Anything else?” His words are icy cold and hard. I wonder if I’ve pushed too hard and how much it will hurt when they get their revenge on me tomorrow. Edith might not even wait if she decides to check on him again tonight.

“No, Theo. That’s it for now. I’ll check on you soon.”

***

Edith thankfully, did not turn the poker match last night into a strip poker match. She did, however, goad an orc and minotaur into a knife fight, so swings and roundabouts I guess.

Seff and Tor have both been in today, and neither eviscerated me on their way out for upsetting Theo. It was somewhat reassuring.

Unfortunately, it takes all day to get on top of things with work. Everything built up while I was off in the Woods, and now, because I’m the boss, I have to deal with it. By the time I’m done, it’s late, and for about thirty seconds, I consider not going up there.

But I made a promise. And I really want to see what happened to the sheets I sent up with Seldon earlier today.

And I want to see Theo. Like an addict in need of a fix, the urge to check on him, reassure myself he’s okay, is overwhelming.

My chest is tight as I walk down the hall to his room, the vise-like band around my chest tightening its grip with each step. My skin burns, my nerves on fire. Anxiety. Anticipation. They fire through my nervous system in rapid pulses.

He doesn’t answer my knock on the door, but I didn’t expect him to either, already turning the master key in the lock.

Every cell in my being relaxes at the sight of him, curled on his side, the ghostly lines of his shoulder barely visible above the quilt. But I see it.

See the way it slopes down into his neck. The elegant, delicate lines there. See where the curling tendrils of his copper hair kiss his skin.

The air evaporates from the room, while my eyes feast on the tiny hint of exposed flesh, like an animal starved. The feeling in my chest swells, urging me toward the bed. I lick my lower lip, tugging it between my teeth as my traitorous feet drag me closer.

A chorus of laughter from downstairs snaps me out of my stupidity. I shove my hand in my hair, rubbing at my horn to soothe the racing feeling in my body. It’s then that I notice the sheets.

They are untidy, and I’m pretty sure that the quilt cover’s on sideways. But they are fresh and clean.

He’d changed them.

The pride might be misplaced, but it tickles my chest anyway. I’m glad he’s not looking at me right now, so he can’t see the smile on my face. No doubt it’d just piss him off again.

“Everything okay, Theo?” His shoulders only rise with a humph. But it’s a response. It’s a tiny win, but I’ll take it. It takes the edge off the need to go to him, to slide in the bed behind him, wrap myself around him and take everything haunting his mind from him.

But that isn’t my place. I’d made the mistake of giving into those feelings before, and I’d only hurt him. So, summoning every ounce of willpower I have left, I walk to the other side of the bed to collect the pile of old bedding I spot there.

On my way back out of the room, I see it. Tucked under his pillow, hidden between it and his body, is a book. A scrappy old paperback I recognise. A quick check of the mantlepiece confirms that there are only eleven books.

I can feel his eyes on me as I make my way back out of the room, so I try to keep the cocky smile to an absolute minimum. It’s hard though, and I definitely fail.

“Right. Night then, Theo. Tomorrow, why don’t you try coming downstairs? It’s the middle of the week, so it’ll be quiet. Especially if you come down late.” There’s no response, but I expected that, so with one last eyeful of his back, I slip from the room, shutting it firmly behind me.

***

I didn’t tell anyone that I’d suggested he come downstairs tonight. I was worried they’d be a little too helpful in their agreement and push him into obstinate resistance.

“The glass is clean, Roan.” Mauvy flips one of her long brown braids over and shoulder and hip checks me as she passes. But she’s so short it only hits mid thigh, knocking out my knee. I set down the glass I’d been polishing and rap on the bar instead, drawing a muttered curse from my oldest friend. “Gods’ teeth Roan, what is your problem tonight? You’ve been a right nuisance. Worse than usual.” She frowns behind her gold rimmed glasses and clucks her tongue at me when I shrug.

What can I say? I already feel like an idiot, mooning after a kid ten years younger than me. It couldn’t be more inappropriate, even without the whole, he’s depressed and vulnerable after a traumatic, life-altering, life- threatening event thing. But the dumb ass, feral beast inside doesn’t care. It just wants . Craves.

“Just an off night, Mauvs.” I pick up another glass, my eyes returning to the curving, woven tree branches that make the staircase to the upper floor of the tavern. Mauvy laughs, loud and gleefully, with an added chortle for good measure. Thank the Gods we're basically empty tonight. She pats my arm, not exactly gently.

“Yeah, sure, Roan. We all believe that.” Under her breath I swear I hear her mutter men are fucking ridiculous . I’d argue but I wholeheartedly agree. She finally leaves me be, needing to start the bread for tomorrow before heading to bed herself. Yanking my arm for leverage, she pulls me down to give me a kiss on one cheek and a light smack on the other.

“Good luck,” she whispers, her eyes dancing with mischief.

With her gone, the place is officially empty. It’s too early to actually close, so I keep myself busy, cleaning and stacking the dishes, wiping down the tables. Every night I’d hoped Theo would make his way downstairs to join the land of the living.

But tonight I am especially hopeful. It feels imperative that he takes this step. But as time drags on, I don’t see hide nor hair of him as I make my way around the tavern.

That is, until, out of the corner of my eye, I spy skinny legs, in far too baggy jeans and white socks, padding their way down my stairs.

Butterflies explode in my stomach, and I have to bite my cheek to keep from shouting in triumph.

He came .