Rest In Pieces

28

James

He would never forget the nightmares that visited him in that cell. He would never forget the way his brain seared, his fists clenched, his teeth ground. Would he ever escape, he wondered?

But he had. He was warm, he was safe.

Airo pushed the door open and sat down on the bed with him. "I don't think you should be alone right now."

James wanted nothing more. But instead of sending his King away, James leaned his head against Airo's shoulder.

"We're not safe here," he murmured.

"As short as I was with Inessa, I don't think she's going to kill us."

"In Laszicslav, Airo."

"Oh."

It was curious, however, that this house had not been touched since Inessa's family was... taken? Murdered? James didn't know. She hadn't offered up all the gory details. Still, why hadn't looters taken anything of value, or even the residence itself?

Airo flopped down on the bed, head hitting the pillow. He beckoned with two fingers and James joined him, laying his head on Airo's chest.

Airo breathed a sigh. "You will never be locked up again."

"You do not have control over that."

"I'm the King, I have control over everything." Airo was being cheeky, and he knew it. James looked up and his lips collided with Airo's, he wanted to feel something—anything—to distract him from the horrors playing out in his mind.

Airo began to tug at James' shirt, and ripped it off without a fight. With his fingers tucked into James' belt loops, he yanked the other boy's hips into his and wrestled around until could hold himself up above James.

James traced the lines marking Airo's torso, cut from stone. The front had taken him from boy to man and it showed.

"Are you quite finished?" Airo whispered, catching his fingers.

"Admiring you? Never."

"Shut up," Airo chuckled, and kissed him again. His tangled his fingers in James' hair, growing out since their journey. Airo could cut it for him later.

They grew tired quickly, and held each other close. James curled against Airo's chest, Airo's fingers stroking his hair, ever so gentle.

Airo was not gentle with a lot of people.

"You really think Xadya has power of the gods?" he asked.

Airo sighed. "I don't know."

James was quiet. "She and I have an understanding, of sorts." Airo arched an eyebrow. "Taking over the Arcane might not be as simple as you think."

"What are you saying?"

James sat up, crossing his legs and forcing himself to meet Airo's eyes. "They won't follow you, Airo."

"They'll have to."

"Not as a human. Maybe not even Arcane."

"You could have voiced your concerns before we travelled all this way."

"Would it have stopped you?" James asked, because he truly wasn't sure. "Your memories will be erased. Xadya. Me. All of it."

Airo went quiet.

"We'll find another way," he said.

James hung his head. He wanted to believe there was one, he did, but how was Xadya—already an outcast—to convince those creatures to follow a human King? As far as he knew, Zlatčka Matías was the perhaps strongest the order had seen in centuries. Killing him would not come easy.

James found Xadya in the basement by herself. It was as spacious and empty as it was dark. Could she even see?

He rolled his eyes. Of course she could see.

"Don't come any closer."

He stopped in his tracks. "What are you doing?"

Xadya opened one eye. "Practicing."

Ah. James kept his distance.

She shut her eye and continued to tug on the threads of her power, reaching. He wondered if it would unspool or if it would snap. Or perhaps it never ended.

There was an unlit candle on the floor in front of her, held in a gold-encrusted tray to keep the wax from dripping on to the floor. Her fingers hung gingerly in the air around it.

"Are you trying to light that?"

Her shoulders dropped. "I already sent Malakhai away, don't make me do it again."

James fell silent. Xadya grunted in frustration when she tried again, only to fail.

"Move the dark one."

"Jamie."

"Just try it," he urged. Xadya considered it for a moment before placing her corrupted hand behind her back. She thumbed the wick with her good hand, as if that would help.

James watched as Xadya's eyes closed and she began again. Nothing.

She cursed.

"Come eat," he requested. "Try again later."

Xadya nodded, took his hand and pressed herself close to him as he led her to the kitchen, brightly lit and filled with smells as Finley and Inessa bustled around together.

"I'm impressed," Inessa said kindly. "Laszicslavi dishes are not easy to grasp."

"Luisza taught me some." Finley's Laszicslavi was coming along, but James only caught a few words. She tossed a handful of herbs into a flaming pot.

Xadya tucked herself behind James. Her wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her to the sitting room, setting her up on the sofa with a throw-over.

"You take care of me," she said softly, reaching for his hand.

"Always, Xadezhda," he murmured.

James stood, but Xadya tugged on his arm, making space for him to sit. He smiled, and sat with her.

"Does it still bother you, not having any memory?" he asked quietly.

She considered that.

"I suppose it doesn't really feel like that anymore," Xadya admitted. "It feels like I was born when I was created."

"And nothing before?"

"Not blank memories, if that's what you mean. At first I didn't exist and then I did."

He smiled softly. "That's a good way to look at it."

She leaned her head against his shoulder. "I'd still like to know."

James kissed her hair. "I know, little one." Still, he would tell her nothing.

Ceramic bowls were placed next to each chaise and sofa. Xadya snatched hers up as soon as it was placed and began shovelling food down her throat.

James chuckled at her.

Sporadically, the group began to gather for dinner. It was the first meal they'd eaten in weeks. Airo and Malakhai, coming from outside, plopped down opposite each other and inhaled the meal in front of them.

They were both quite sweaty.

"Where were you?" Xadya asked, knitting her eyebrows at them.

"We went for a spar," Airo said with a shrug.

James and Xadya shared a look. What in the gods' names were those two doing spending time together?

Finley and Inessa finally returned, placing tall glasses of dark wine before them

"Thank the gods," Airo muttered, draining his far too quickly. Finley and Inessa clinked theirs together. Xadya pulled her knees close to her chest and began to sip. She looked like she wanted a straw.

The group ate and drank in silence together.