Page 15

Chapter Fifteen

H e woke the next morning at the creak of the door, the sound of someone tiptoeing carefully across the room without any knowledge of where the creaky floorboards were, and then Isa’s adoring whisper of, “Well, good morning, darling!” and an answering croaking grunt from Angharad which Tam automatically interpreted as hello, good timing, FEED ME.

He cracked one eye open to watch Isa gathering up the baby. Her hair was loose and golden-brown in the first rays of very early-morning sunshine peeping through the windows, falling down around her arms in impossibly soft-looking waves, and she was wearing a nightgown that was clearly hers and a cozy wrapper that just as clearly wasn’t. Probably it had been lent to her from the house’s stores of old family clothes, a pale blue thing just the color of the morning sky. She bundled Angharad close, kissed her forehead, glanced over at the bed, and winced when she saw Tam’s single open eye. Sorry , she mouthed, scuttling towards the door, but Tam shook his head and waved vaguely at her: Don’t worry about it.

She closed the door softly after herself and Tam snuggled down into the pillows. Everything was fine for the moment. Everyone had rested; everyone was well. It was only Mategat’s hours now—plenty of time left before Angarat’s hours, when he would have to roll out of bed and see what a good night of rest had done for his ability to fix what was broken.

Nicolau’s arm was draped heavy over him; he was beautifully warm against Tam’s back. Tam wriggled around and looked at him.

Fucker. Who gave him permission to go around in public like that, with his—his—his shiny wheat-gold hair and his eyes and his face? At least social propriety kept his prick under a couple layers of fabric, otherwise Tam would have had to haul him up in front of a magistrate at the assizes for crimes of—of being like that.

He was unfair and unjust to look at, and he was far kinder than the likes of Tam deserved. The very thought of it annoyed him.

Really, Tam? murmured a voice in his head that sounded like Angarat, though whether it was actually her or just what he imagined she might say was impossible to determine.

Fine. No, not really. Under the annoyance was frustration—why did Nicolau bother being kind?—and under the frustration was an aching hurt, and under that was a deep and abiding loathing of himself. There.

Fuck.

It was like an infestation of grubs in the soil, or root-rot, chewing away under the surface. It was as wrong as whatever was going on with his little crabapple, probably. How was he supposed to help her grow if he couldn’t weed out his own bullshit?

Kel Gauda said Nicolau was in love with him. Tam had tried hard not to think of that very much, because he hated the idea of—no, try again, dig deeper—because he was terrified of it, and part of him hoped that if he just ignored it, it would go away—no, again—because he wanted to ignore the self-loathing until that went away, and touching the idea of Nicolau being in love with him meant pulling up all the runners of that deep, deep hurt, like some ravenous vine that had overgrown his whole garden.

That didn’t make any sense, did it. Ignoring an invasive vine that was overgrowing his garden was the precisely wrong thing to do with it.

So he forced himself at least to look at it, to see what it was doing and how much of a job it was going to be to get the mess under control.

Nicolau was in love with him. Nicolau had been in love with him for, gods, who knew how long. At least since they were teenagers, when he’d been obnoxious all the time just to get Tam’s attention. Nicolau was in love with him, and he was kind, and they were favored of Angarat together, and they’d both been born here and had grown up here and would probably die here. They both... loved this place. They were both tied to it—and no surprise there, because home was one of Angarat’s primary domains. Nicolau loved him, and kept trying for him, and kept waiting for Tam to grow and change for the better, and kept believing that he could, even when Tam was digging in his heels and giving every impression that change was impossible.

He kept waiting for... for Tam to love him back. That was all he wanted, wasn’t it. Nicolau Lyford, lord of the manor and favored of Angarat, just wanted Tam to love him—and he believed Tam was capable of one day becoming a person who could love him.

What poor taste he has , Tam thought reflexively, tinged with frustration and contempt, and then viciously ripped that whole vine out of the ground: I think he has poor taste because I don’t think I’m worth loving. It all came back to that, didn’t it.

A oddly stranger thought occurred to him: Nicolau also liked him. He had to. At least, he behaved as if he did, didn’t he?

“Hey,” Tam whispered. “Hey, wake up. Wake up, I want to ask you something.”

“Mnn?” Nicolau mumbled, then yawned wide and tightened his arm around Tam’s waist.

“Do you like me?”

Nicolau woke the rest of the way with a spluttering laugh. “Goblin, what ?” he said, his voice all sleep-rough and... and gorgeous, really.

“It’s a real question.”

“Yes, I like you.” Nicolau said, cracking his eyes open and squinting in the morning light, blinking to try to focus on Tam.

“What do you like about me?”

“I like that you ask me insane questions immediately upon me being even one-tenth conscious,” Nicolau mumbled, closing his eyes again and pulling Tam closer still.

“I’m being serious.”

“So’m I.” Nicolau yawned again, nestling his face up against Tam’s neck. “Keep your voice down, don’t wake Daisy.”

“Isa already came and got her.”

“Mm. Good. She alright?”

Whether that meant Isa or the baby, Tam did not know. “Everyone’s alright. What else do you like about me?”

“I like how cuddly you are when you’re asleep. Let’s do that for a bit longer, mm?”

“No, I’m busy. I’m thinking.” Nicolau muttered something that sounded like of course you are. “Why do you like me when I am so awful?”

“Not awful all the time ,” Nicolau murmured in the tones of someone being eminently reasonable. “Just most of the time. Mmm... I like how funny you are. I like how much you see about people. I like how, whatsits, impassioned you get when you’re angry. I like how righteous and stubborn you are. And protective. I like how much you care about everything.” His hand, pulling Tam close at the small of his back, drifted lower and cupped his bottom. “Mmn. This is pretty good too.”

“Just my arse?”

Nicolau shook his head, yawning again. “All your bits. They’re nice bits, Tam, I like them.”

All his bits. Even the ugly ones, even the mean ones, even the abrasive and difficult ones. He liked them enough to deal with them while Tam figured himself out. “I like you too,” Tam said before he could think better of it.

He felt Nicolau smile against his shoulder. “Mm? What do you like about me? Besides my cock,” he added, bumping his hips forward, nudging it against Tam’s thigh. He was half-hard, and Tam’s skin prickled to alertness immediately. Nicolau kissed his neck and whispered right against his ear, “I already know how much you like that bit of me. What else?”

Say something, Tam hissed at himself. And say it without all this ‘I don’t deserve good things’ bullshit. A fragile terror bloomed in his gut, but he made himself say, “You’re... kind. To everyone.” It wasn’t enough. “And you always know when I’m saying something mean just to be funny, and you always laugh.”

It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t, he knew it wasn’t, he knew he should have a whole list of things like Nicolau did. But it was hard.

It was hard.

It was hard, and he didn’t have to do it all at once. It was hard, and it was alright if he did this little bit, as long as he did maybe another little bit tomorrow, or the day after. Or next week. Little bits, here and there, that was how you kept a garden weeded.

“I like that you keep giving me chances,” he whispered.

“Well, it’s paying off, lately,” Nicolau murmured back, kissing right under Tam’s ear. “Bearing fruit.” He pulled back and looked at Tam, propping his chin on his hand. His hair was all mussed and golden; his eyes were still foggy with sleep. “Do you know that I admire you?”

That didn’t seem plausible. “Why?” Tam said, suspicious.

“Because every time I give you another chance, you take it dead seriously, and then I sit there and watch you fight yourself so hard it almost gives me a headache.” He touched Tam’s forehead, traced across his brow to his temple, rubbed a bit at the spot that almost always felt tense and vaguely sore. “You don’t give up.”

“I backslide sometimes, though,” Tam said, looking away. “I fuck it up.”

“Mm. Don’t we all? I did too, yesterday.”

“Being passive-aggressive about me to Angarat isn’t as bad as—as me shouting at you.”

“I don’t want to weigh which mistake is worse,” Nicolau said gently. “Mine was mine, and yours was yours. That’s all. We stumbled, we got up and brushed ourselves off, and we stuck with it long enough to come out the other side, which we’ve never managed before. And I got kissed,” he added, objectionably smug (no—just rakish, seductive, attractive, confident, teasing... maybe kissable, maybe ). “And I got to hold you, and wake up with you, and tell you that I like you.” He nudged Tam.

Tam flushed with confused irritation, or whatever part of that deep inner hurt was buried beneath it, and muttered, “Fucking annoying.”

“What is?”

“How forgiving you are.”

Nicolau yawned. “Why’s that annoying?”

“Because—because I don’t— deserve— ” Dammit. He hadn’t meant to say that.

Nicolau’s face had gone very solemn, very awake. “Don’t deserve what? To be forgiven?” Tam rolled away and stuffed his head under a pillow. “Oh, sweetheart, ” Nicolau sighed. He followed, plastering himself against Tam’s back and kissing the point of his shoulder. “You’re a goblin, not a monster. You’re bloody difficult, and you’re too strong-minded for your own good, and you make everything a hundred times harder than it has to be. So what? What’s the great unforgivable crime there?”

“Being Tam Becket,” Tam said, his heart twisting with fear and resentment and fury. He bit his tongue on the impulse to tell Nicolau in no uncertain terms that he was an idiot for—for not knowing that.

“It’s too early in the morning for this,” Nicolau mused, pushing Tam gently onto his front, climbing on top of him, laying on him with his full weight. “I’ve never heard of any law about how people aren’t allowed to be Tam Becket. I met a Tam Becket once, and I thought he was handsome and exciting and funny, and he had an arse that made me want to die. And a huge, giant, girthy thing he had to carry around in a wheelbarrow—” Tam jammed the pillow at his face, Nicolau laughed and pushed it away. “And he is objectively awful, but it’s so intriguing.”

“ Why ?”

“Because I wish I could be awful like that sometimes,” Nicolau said, settling down and nuzzling against Tam’s neck again. He was heavy, but it was a comfortable heavy, grounding and reassuring. His voice turned wistful. “I wish I could let myself speak sharply to people sometimes. I suffocate myself, trying to be good. My father used to tell me that I didn’t get to have the privilege of being myself, because I had to be Lord Lyford one day, and live up to all those expectations and duties and responsibilities.” Even quieter, he said, “Maybe it is a crime to be yourself . But Tam Becket commits that crime every day, and I wish I were that brave. I wish I could do that.” Tam heard him chuckle softly, felt the brush of air against his skin, the press of Nicolau’s lips against his shoulder, long and lingering. “It’s only when I’m around you that I even get to try to be myself. You’re the only one who...”

“Who what?” Tam rasped. His throat was still tight and aching.

Nicolau was quiet for a time, his mouth pressed against Tam’s shoulder. Without lifting his head, he murmured, “The only one who I know can take it. I don’t have to worry that I’m misusing you, or coercing you, or pressuring you. I don’t have to worry that I’m crushing you if I lean my weight on you. Because if I—if I reach out to you and you don’t want it, you snap at me and push me away and storm off in a huff. You don’t silently put up with anything. So it’s safe.” He was quiet. He kissed Tam’s shoulder again. “You’re awful, and there are parts of that I truly appreciate.”

Tam didn’t know what to feel. He hurt all over. He was irritated and confused and—and plaintive, guilty, ashamed. He wanted to cry. He hadn’t... known. “Get off me,” he said, and Nicolau rolled off him immediately. Tam sat up and shoved at him until Nicolau turned away so that Tam could spoon up behind him, angrily wrap his arms around Nicolau’s waist, and squeeze the breath out of him.

“Oh,” said Nicolau.

“Shut up.”

When Tam opened his eyes again, the angle of the light had changed and was now shining right into his eyes. He gave a spluttering hiss of objection, flailed wobblingly to his feet on the bed, blindly flapping his hands for the hangings at the footboard to haul them closed against the glare.

Nicolau groaned and rolled onto his back, stretching. “We’ve missed the start of morning services, I think,” he said around a yawn.

Tam flopped back down and wriggled under the covers. “I thought you said Anghenge doesn’t care if you’re late.”

“They don’t. But by the time we got dressed and got down there, it’d be mostly over, so... Mmngh.” He raised his hands in that position of prayer he’d used to address Idunet the other night and murmured, “Praise be to Her Abundance, the Lady of Lambs, Mother of Morning, Seed-sower, Home-grower. Thank you for your blessings, and please smile upon us and all our fields.”

“And Angharad,” Tam said pointedly. “If you don’t fucking mind, ma’am.”

“There, that’ll do.” Nicolau yawned again. “Why do you call her Angharad?”

“That’s her name. You told Isa to name her that.”

“ Granny Pella told Isa to name her that, and I agreed it couldn’t hurt. You don’t like Daisy?”

“It’s fine. It’s cute. I’m calling her Angharad to remind Angarat to pay attention to her.”

Nicolau rolled his head toward Tam and blinked fondly at him. “You don’t trust our lady to pay attention without the reminder?”

Tam opened his mouth. Snapped it shut before the flare of irritation (resentment, fear, hurt) could move his tongue unwisely. “No, I guess not.”

Nicolau rolled the rest of himself toward Tam and took his hand. “She’s not a marrow you can micromanage.”

Tam scowled and sat up. “Speaking of Angharad—Daisy—whatever—we should get up and get to work.”

“She’s in my house and Isa has her,” Nicolau said, yawning again. He tugged at Tam’s sleeve. “We’re sleeping in. Sleeping in is part of Angarat’s domain. We’re being ever so pious right now—”

Tam let himself be tugged down. “Idunet’s domain. Angarat is for people with cows that need to be milked, or families that need breakfast. You know, get out of bed and get to work things.”

“And she’s for coziness, and being comfortable, and cuddling sweetly with your lover.” Lover. Tam supposed that was better than friend. “ Come cuddle me again. I’ll give you a kiss.”

“Morning breath,” Tam muttered, but he scooted in closer to Nicolau and let himself be wrapped up. Did not explode out of the bed and fling himself out the window when Nicolau raised his head and tipped Tam’s face towards him and—and kissed him, the way they had yesterday in Nicolau’s study, long and slow and unhurried. The morning breath really wasn’t that bad; Tam’s was probably worse.

His body perked up all over once again, because his body only knew that kissing Nicolau meant imminent sex, but he... wasn’t really feeling like it. Strange, unfamiliar. He just wanted... to lie here and kiss. With Nicolau.

Gods, what was this shit? Who had he become?

Someone who got to sleep in, that was who. Someone who got to be cuddled (?) and kissed (???) by someone who knew damn well that Tam was awful and liked him anyway.

It truly felt like there was supposed to be a catch. Like this was some kind of scam or con or trick, and any moment now, the truth would be revealed, and something important would shatter on the floor, and—

“Stop thinking, goblin,” Nicolau murmured into his mouth. “I can almost hear you.”

“I don’t like this.”

Nicolau pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. “Do you not like it, or do you think you don’t deserve it?”

Tam seethed at him. “Wish I hadn’t said that. It’s none of your business.”

“Hmm.” Nicolau kissed him again. “I’m making it my business. I think that’s an exciting new strategy to try in all my dealings with you—being lovely to you, and telling you the whole time that you deserve it. I’m going to whisper it in your ear the next time I’m making love to you.”

Tam wriggled halfheartedly and made a scathing noise in his throat, just to express his general disapproval of the whole situation and the reflexive and powerful cringe throughout his entire body at the phrase making love.

Nicolau laughed in his face about it, of course, because he was a complete prick, but at least he stopped kissing Tam. Instead, because he was the worst person that had ever lived, he propped his chin in his hand again and twined a curl of Tam’s hair around his finger and smiled at him. “Did you have any nice dreams?”

“No,” Tam said crisply. He had decided to ignore Nicolau playing with his hair, as it was beneath his dignity to acknowledge it. If Nicolau wanted to do something fucking embarrassing like that, it was none of Tam’s concern.

“Mm. I had an interesting one.”

Tam gave him a withering look. It was going to be some kind of perverted sex dream. Tam wasn’t interested. Tam was not remotely curious about Nicolau’s perverted sex dreams. They had no relevance whatsoever to Tam’s life. “What was it about?”

“Drums,” Nicolau said pensively. “I was inside a giant drum, and someone was... well, drumming.”

That did not sound like a perverted sex dream. Tam frowned. “Drums.”

“Mm. And the walls were red, and the floor was covered in fruit, like the windfall beneath a tree. But the worms had gotten to them. They all had little holes in them.”

Tam sat up. “What kind of fruit?”

“I’m not sure. Small red fruits—large cherries, maybe, or plums, or little crabapples—”

“ Get out of bed, ” Tam screamed at him.