She dashed away, leaving Breen smiling as she went into her room.
The fire still simmered, but she gave it a boost, lit the candles and lamps. She wanted to change into pajamas, but since she’d have to walk Bollocks outside before bed, she decided to stay in the dress.
With Bollocks already curled up in front of the fire, she sat at the desk. She would, at another point in her story, incorporate a Leaving, but for now, her characters needed a little quiet, too. And some happy, maybe a hint of romance.
Because the dark there would creep in before much longer.
After she’d written a little, and while she and Bollocks sat down to the meal a couple of cheerful teenagers brought them, Marco and Brian lay tangled together in the bed in the next room.
With his eyes closed, Brian stroked Marco’s back. “I’ve thought of this almost since the moment I first saw you, standing on the road, your eyes full of wonder. Now I find my thoughts were small and thin compared to the having of you.”
“Maybe we could just stay here, like this, for—I don’t know—ever.”
With a laugh, Brian shifted a bit so they lay nose to nose. “We could wander our way to the village for food and music, then find our way back. Right here again. I would stay with you tonight if you’ll have me.”
“I’ll have you tonight, tomorrow, any night you want. I know that’s moving fast, but—”
“No. Not for me, no, not with you.”
“It’s all just racing through me, you know? Everything.” He pressed his lips to Brian’s, then drew the warrior’s braid through his fingers. “I was so scared, watching what was happening in the fire. Breen made it so I could see, because I needed to see. You. All the smoke, the blood—”
“Don’t think of it now, mo chroí.”
“No, I want to say, I saw you. I saw you fighting. Flying and fighting, tearing through the smoke. And I saw why, and I always … War sucks, Brian. It just sucks, but I saw why you had to. Most of this, for me, it’s been like a fairy tale, right? Some weird parts, sure. Some jump scares, but mostly the seriously cool. I knew I’d stick with Breen no matter what, for the duration, but—”
“Because loyalty is who you are.” Brian trailed a finger down Marco’s cheek, down his throat, then up again. “It’s your great gift. I love this gift.”
“She’s my girl. Thick and thin. But I saw you, and the others. What you were fighting and why. And tonight, I saw all this, and what it meant. A hell of a long way from the Gayborhood.”
Brian smiled. “This is your place on the other side?”
“Yeah, and I really want to show it to you sometime. Show you off to Sally and Derrick and the gang. But right now? I’m here, and I’m in all the way. For Breen, for you, for, ah, the light. I’m crap at fighting, but—”
Brian touched a finger to Marco’s lips. “You have other skills and strengths and gifts.” He ran a hand down Marco’s flank—smooth skin, slim build, toned muscle. “You’re beautiful. Body, heart, spirit.”
“So are you.” Levering up, Marco ran his lips over those broad shoulders. “I want you again. God, I want you again.”
“I’m yours for the taking.”
* * *
Breen woke early, and throwing the cloak over her pajamas, shoving on her boots, took Bollocks outside. She dreamed of coffee, or at least some strong tea, as she let him race and wander and sniff, and do what he had to do.
She wasn’t the only early riser, as she’d heard activity and movement inside before she’d taken Bollocks out the door closest to the stables.
And she heard laughter behind the high walls of the falcon mews. When they walked on, she saw people already working in gardens, others drawing water from a wide stone well. Another carrying pails—milk?—away from what she took for a barn.
She saw a couple of cats slink out of it—and so did Bollocks.
“Oh no, not today. No chasing cats or squirrels or anything until we know our way around.”
To make up for it, she walked him down to the bridge so he could jump in the river for a swim.
From there she watched what she took as young recruits—or whatever they were called here—drilling in a field. Swords, spears, archery, hand-to-hand.
Overhead, a handful of faeries sparred in midair.
She recognized Keegan, his leather duster flapping as he gave the woman beside him a friendly punch on the shoulder. When he turned her way, she called to the dog.