The Sea Read online

  Published by: Pavonine Books

  Cover by Starla Huchton

  © 2020 by Abigail Hilton. All rights reserved. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This material may not be reproduced, modified, or distributed without the express prior permission of the copyright holder. Artwork is displayed by agreement with the artists. All artists hold the copyrights to their work.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1. Bath

  Chapter 2. Old Memories and New Ones

  Chapter 3. Claimed

  Chapter 4. Gifts from Marsden

  Chapter 5. Unity

  Chapter 6. Quintin

  Chapter 7. Fort False

  Chapter 8. Potions

  Chapter 9. Confession

  Chapter 10. The Advantages and Disadvantages of Living Horses

  Chapter 11. The Battle is Joined

  Chapter 12. In the Fog

  Chapter 13. Flanked

  Chapter 14. Hungry Ghosts

  Chapter 15. Drunk on Death

  Chapter 16. The River and the Sea

  Chapter 17. Precarious

  Chapter 18. Nothing Else for Later

  Chapter 19. Vengeance

  Chapter 20. No Regrets

  Chapter 21. Hastafel

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Chapter 1. Bath

  By the time they’d finished eating, servants had brought Roland’s gear. They’d also found a horse they wanted to show him. Sairis allowed himself to be led through the snowy night to the stables. Roland introduced him to the grooms and made sure they understood that the purchased horse belonged to Sairis. The animal did seem quite gentle—a shaggy chestnut who had clearly never missed a meal, just tall enough to be called a horse and not a pony. Apparently, his name was Butterball, but Roland assured Sairis that this could be changed.

  He made Sairis saddle the animal once, just to make sure he knew how. It took him a few moments, but he eventually got everything fastened correctly. Roland talked about the nutritional requirements of horses, how to care for them at night, basic hoof maintenance, tack.

  Sairis finally pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, “Roland...”

  “I know you know some of this already, but I just wanted to make sure—”

  Sairis patted his arm. He looked like he had a lot on his mind, possibly apart from horses.

  “Do you want to go back to the room?” asked Roland.

  Sairis nodded.

  Roland let him lead the way, making sure that he knew it.

  When they arrived, they found their new clothes laid out for them. These were basic garments that had been quickly altered to their specifications, but the fabric was warm and of good quality. Sairis had two pairs of dark trousers, two cream-colored shirts, a charcoal waistcoat, a lighter coat, and a heavy black overcoat. He also had a pair of boots made of supple leather with heavy soles for hiking through mountains. Two pairs of thick, woolen socks lay beside them.

  Roland made Sairis try everything on to be sure it fit. In spite of the fact that they’d been naked in each other’s arms three nights ago, Sairis seemed suddenly gripped by shyness. He changed clothes without taking off more than one thing at a time and without looking at Roland.

  After a moment, Roland said, “I’ll just be in the bath. Come and join me when you’re finished?”

  Sairis raised his head, startled, his shirt half-buttoned. “Bath?”

  Roland took his arm and guided him through the bedroom, out the door on the far side, and into a small, walled enclosure. It looked like it ought to contain a garden. Instead, a pool lapped at their feet, the water steaming under the dark, snowy sky. These were natural hot springs, but the stone of the pool had been hollowed and shaped by human hands. The water came in under the wall and exited beneath it on the opposite side. Two lamps marked the far edge of the enclosure, sending a ghostly glow through the steam.

  Sairis stared open-mouthed for a moment. Roland wondered if such luxury seemed appallingly decadent to him. Wicked, even. “It’s easy to have these things in the mountains,” said Roland apologetically. “They get snow and rainfall here. Not like the plain.”

  Sairis nodded and turned away abruptly. “I’ll just...finish with the clothes.”

  “There’s soap, washrags, and a basin of water in the bedroom,” Roland called after him. “They don’t actually want soap in the springs, so we do that first.”

  “I understand.” Sairis vanished back into the sitting room and Roland came inside to strip and to do his own duty with the soap and basin. He considered strolling into the sitting room naked and asking Sairis whether he should do a few sword forms first. But the poor man is feeling conflicted enough already. Give him a moment to himself.

  Roland walked out into the chilly night and stood there with the snow falling on his skin. “How many friends have you lost this year?”

  He allowed himself to think of all of them and more besides: Marcus, other peers, recruits he’d trained, his father, in many ways his childhood. On this journey through the mountains with Sairis and Marsden, he’d lost a little of his identity: ideas about his family and kingdom, their history with the magicians of Mistala.

  I thought we were the heroes. But to look like heroes, we needed a villain. And maybe he wasn’t all that different from the man in the room behind me, trying to get up his nerve to take off all his clothes and trust a human being who could hurt him.

  You are the premier knight of the realm, whispered a voice in his head, not the king, not a ruler. You are a tool of power, a sword to cut where you’re pointed. Problems of policy are not yours to solve. Trying to do so would only cause trouble for Daphne.

  Roland shook his head. He waded down into the pool, the water deliciously warm on his chilled skin. The hard day’s ride seemed to melt away. Roland laid his head back against the warm stone and closed his eyes. He let his thoughts and his limbs drift.

  The door creaked. Roland opened his eyes to see Sairis peeking cautiously around the edge. He sat up and grinned. “I thought you might have lain down on the bed and fallen asleep.”

  Sairis laughed nervously. “There is no chance of that.”

  “Whatever you’re worried about doesn’t have to happen.”

  “I would be disappointed if it didn’t.”

  Roland considered. “Would it help if you could see me, too?”

  Sairis swallowed. “Maybe?”

  Roland stood up, thigh-deep in the steaming water. Sairis’s eyes seemed to grow even darker. Roland stepped out of the pool and stood there on the edge, dripping. At last, Sairis pushed open the door and approached, naked except for his glasses. He was clenching his fists at his sides, as though he wanted to hug himself and was determined not to.

  Roland was reminded again of some shy forest creature, infinitely cautious, fearing traps, fearing judgment. He was a fine-boned man, with well-built legs and calves from constantly running up and down stairs. At twenty-two, he’d not yet finished filling out, and there was still a trace of the awkward teenager he’d obviously been. Roland could count most of his ribs, and lamplight drew sharp shadows beneath his collarbones. The way he moved reminded Roland of a deer in heavily-hunted woods.

  They looked at each other for a long moment, and then Sairis reached up and took off his glasses with a more human expression of impatience. “Godsdamn it, they’re going to keep fogging up.”

  Roland laughed and walked around the pool.

  “They’re going to keep fogging up,” repeated Sairis, “and I really want to see.”

  “You could touch instead.”

  Sairis folded his glasses and crouched to set them on the edge of the pool. He stood up and put both hands on Roland’s chest. Roland was reminded of Sairis’s hands flat against the
other side of a reflection, his face intent. His palms slid over the muscles of Roland’s stomach and then around his back to settle there. Sairis’s head came to rest against the side of Roland’s neck. Roland wrapped his arms around him, his beard a soft tickle.

  “I’m not much to look at,” murmured Sairis.

  “Only the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Sairis snorted. “That’s because you were a ghost and we were in the Shadow Lands.”

  “I like looking at you, Sair.”

  “Well, I certainly like looking at you.”

  “Shall I go through some sword forms?”

  Sairis gave a laugh that shook with nerves. “Gods. You might kill me. I’m so cold, it feels like all my blood is already in the wrong place.”

  Roland let go of him and took a step into the pool. “Get in the water. Then you won’t be cold.”

  Sairis swallowed. “You were...um...right about the bath. I haven’t actually been in this much water before.”

  “Water is heavy. Your tower is tall.”

  Sairis nodded. “Water is heavy. My tower is tall. The Parabola is a mile away. Rainwater is precious. And wanted outlaws who take off all their clothes for a dip in a stream end up dead.” He was starting to shiver.

  Roland waited.

  Sairis slid one foot into the pool and gasped. He took a step down onto the bench beneath the water, an expression of wonder on his face. An instant later, he was up to his chest. “Oh, gods. Sex can’t be any better than this. I’m not even sure massacres are any better than this.”

  Roland was choking with laughter. “I’m a little disturbed by the order in which you placed those things.”

  Sairis reached for his glasses again, as though reassuring himself that they were still there. Then he let go of them and dipped his head. He came up gasping. “Whose soul do I have to sell to do this on a regular basis?”

  Roland reached out, still laughing, and gathered him into his arms. Sairis turned around and kissed him. His mouth opened in a gesture of trust and invitation. Roland turned him so that Sairis was straddling his lap on the stone bench. He ran his hands down Sairis’s spine and over his firm ass, stroked his thighs and hips. Sairis’s hands were on his shoulders, in his hair. The feel of their skin sliding together in the warm water was intoxicating.

  “Pools are not actually great places for fucking,” breathed Roland, trying to remind himself as well as Sairis.

  “Why ever not?”

  “Because water isn’t slippery enough.” Roland kissed Sairis again, deeply, loving the way he was trying to get as close as possible on the bench. Sairis’s erection bumped against his stomach. Roland’s cock brushed his ass.

  Roland pushed away from the bench and slid further into the middle of the pool. Sairis tensed. His legs locked around Roland’s waist. “It’s alright,” soothed Roland. “I just thought you might like this better.”

  In the middle of the pool, Roland’s chin was only a couple of inches above the water when standing. It would have been over Sairis’s head. But in Roland’s arms, with his legs around Roland’s waist and his own arms around Roland’s neck, he was in no danger. Roland stood still for a moment, letting Sairis get used to the sensation of weightlessness. Sairis had screwed his eyes shut, but now he opened them and looked around. He stared at the courtyard as though seeing it for the first time, at the drifting steam, the soft lights, the dark sky.

  “It’s a little like the Shadow Lands, isn’t it?” ventured Roland.

  Sairis spoke in a whisper, “It is nothing at all like the Shadow Lands.” He tilted his head back to let the snow fall on his face. Roland kissed his throat.

  “Oh...” Sairis’s breath shuddered in and out. Roland hiked him up a little in the water, kissing his way over his collar bone and shoulders. Sairis’s arms locked around Roland’s head, unconsciously rubbing his cock against Roland’s stomach.

  Roland slid a hand under Sairis’s ass, between his spread cheeks and applied gentle pressure to the tight ring of muscle. Sairis made a low groan.

  “A hot spring is not good for fucking,” purred Roland, “but it’s great for helping a fellow relax.”

  Sairis lowered his mouth to Roland’s again. Roland kept touching him, kept kissing. It wasn’t long before Sairis relaxed enough for Roland to press one finger inside. No thrusting. Not in water. Just enough pressure to show the muscle what it needed to do. Sairis was breathing deeply, his face flushed with the heat of the water and their lovemaking.

  Roland drew back to get a better look. Sairis blinked at him, long lashes beaded with moisture, lips as pink as his cheeks against his dark beard. “Alright?” murmured Roland.

  Sairis gave a crooked smile that was equal parts embarrassment and desire. “I feel utterly compromised.”

  Roland nuzzled under his chin. “Oh, I want to compromise you more.” He curled his finger, searching for the sweet spot.

  Sairis squirmed against him. “I thought it would hurt, but I just feel a little...strange.”

  “If it hurts, tell me. It shouldn’t.”

  “I should be afraid,” whispered Sairis. “If you drop me, I’ll drown.”

  “I would never.”

  “I know. Roland, I— Oh!”

  “There it is...” murmured Roland.

  “Oh, gods, gods, gods... Fuck.”

  “That’s what it’s supposed to feel like.”

  Sairis was trembling. He pushed back against Roland’s hand.

  “No friction,” said Roland. “Not in water. You need to sit on Butterball tomorrow.”

  Sairis gave a growl of frustration. His teeth nipped Roland’s lip. Roland hadn’t planned to finish him off yet, but now he wanted to. He removed his free hand from Sairis’s back and slid it between them to take his cock.

  Sairis groaned into his mouth, his legs quivering around Roland’s waist.

  How close have I got you? A lot of friction on his dick wouldn’t do, either. Roland rubbed him in and out of his sheath. He felt rock hard. Roland’s thumb circled the head, pressed into the slit. His other hand pressed firmly into the tight heat of his lover’s body. Sairis’s kisses faltered, replaced by shuddering gasps. He made a low noise, eyes tightly shut, and his body clenched.

  An instant later, Sairis’s grip loosened. He slipped down, almost under the water. Roland caught him and held him up.

  Sairis gave a shaky laugh without opening his eyes. “This really is how you drown a necromancer.”

  Roland kissed him on the nose. “You are adorable.”

  “I feel like I’m going to pass out. Is that normal?”

  Roland frowned. “It’s the hot water. Let’s sit on the side for a moment.”

  Chapter 2. Old Memories and New Ones

  Roland carried him to the edge, where Sairis dragged himself onto the lip of the pool, his legs still dangling. Steam rose in plumes from his warm skin into the cool air. Roland noticed that he reached out again to find his glasses before settling down.

  “You took off your glasses last time, too,” he ventured as he heaved himself onto the side. “In the Knave, I mean.”

  Sairis leaned back on his hands. “I did.”

  “Does that mean you trust me?”

  Sairis tilted his face up. “I suppose it does.”

  “When I brought them to you,” said Roland slowly, “I stopped for a rest beside the road. I was holding them, and I had a dream...”

  Sairis glanced at Roland, his expression suddenly guarded. Roland wasn’t sure this was the right time to have the conversation he wanted to have. But what if I never get another chance?

  “I dreamed I was a child chained in a basement,” said Roland. “I was afraid, and people had hurt me, and everyone I loved had abandoned me. Then a man came to take me away. He told me to write my name in silver dust. Your glasses are made of silver, aren’t they?”

  Sairis looked away. After a moment, he said, “Did you...read it?”

  Roland reached out to br
ush a finger over one of Sairis’s. “Simon?”

  Sairis flinched.

  “Harris,” said Roland thoughtfully. “S. Harris. Sairis.”

  “You really do have me tied across your saddle.”

  “I would never tell. I wasn’t even going to tell you. I don’t mean to threaten you. Only...after what you said about Hastafel’s sword, it got me thinking. Was that a memory? What you put in your glasses?”

  Sairis hesitated, then nodded.

  “Is it like what Hastafel did?”

  “A little.”

  Sairis wasn’t looking at him. Roland scooted over and put an arm around him. “Is that child version of you forever reliving that nightmare...so that you don’t have to?”

  Sairis made a face. He didn’t say anything.

  Roland hugged him tighter. “Please stop doing it.”

  “What you saw was a memory attached to my name,” muttered Sairis. “It’s a safeguard. I can’t actually remember my own name when I’m not touching my glasses. I feel like it’s on the tip of my tongue. I know it when you say it, but I can’t quite remember. That’s why Marsden couldn’t find my name to bind me when I was in Winthrop’s camp. And, yes, my focus contains a piece of my ghost or soul or whatever you want to call it.”

  A long silence. “Is that the only memory you put in them?” Roland felt he was being cruel, but not speaking his mind would be crueler. Who else is going to say these things to him?

  Sairis raised and lowered a slender leg from the moving water, watching the steam curl. “I’ve put a few other memories in there over the years. Things I would rather forget. They make the focus more powerful. And it means I can put those memories and feelings aside whenever I like. When I take off my glasses, I still know those things happened. But it’s as though someone else told me the story. I have no concrete pictures in my head, no feelings about them.” He shifted on the smooth stone. “I’m not quite whole without those memories, but I’m also not quite...” Sairis trailed off.

  Roland waited.

  Sairis drew a long breath. “In the tavern, I wanted to be in the now. I didn’t want some of the feelings I had about your family. So I took them off.”