Abaddon's Gift

Chapter Forty-Three

Theon limped into his study, cursing as he felt the spell digging deeper. He swore again when he walked into his bed chamber and spotted Maeno, naked in his bed.

Drunk, sad, alone, perhaps even feeling suffocated and cornered, Maeno had stripped off his clothing as Theon ushered him into bed. It wasn't as strange as the time Luk wept in the arms of a stone angel, drunk, naked, and cradling a pineapple in his arms as he babbled about the insufferable narcissism of man.

So... he went with it.

He went into the bathing room, relieved himself, washed his face and snarled through gritted teeth as the spell insisted on sinking deeper.

Training. Naena.

What more did he have to say?

She had lashed out at him. The problem with pissing off a healer was that what made them so good at putting a body back together was how easily they could pick it apart. Amos thrust pretty things and fluffy, feminine beliefs on healers to keep them locked in place, but in the end, their nature was... chaos reigning in a world of physical laws so well represented that only the destruction which was a healer could manipulate it.

He touched around the area gently. Heat boiled under his fingers as he limped back into the bed-chamber.

Maeno stirred, groaning as he sat up.

Theon watched as the student made the startling discovery of where he was, where Theon was, the state of dress for both of them, and then the time of day.

"Excuse me?" Theon demanded, his hand tightening around the spot where his towel slipped into itself to stay together.

"Did we—"

"No!" Theon snapped.

He growled as he limped toward his wardrobe, reaching for clothing.

"But you're..."

"I'm what, boy?" Theon demanded, turning on the second year.

"Limp... ing?" Maeno protested meekly.

"Naena," Theon said.

As his skin parted, blood breaking loose, muscle practically moaning as it ripped itself into pieces.

Healer and war mage, two sides of the same coin. Theon's magic should have been able to counter her blow and reverse the spell before it could cause damage. The unfortunate fact was a secret buried in a crumbling journal found four cities away, in the abandoned library of a mage long dead.

Healers are, and always will be, stronger than their fellows, for they are required to put all other magic to rest.

"On that note, I could use some help," Theon growled.

He made his way to the little desk he used for his spell work and sat in the chair, flipping open his towel, well aware that the motion might make an implication.

The blood flowing freely from the wound in his thigh would quickly put the implication to rest.

Or it should have.

Maeno grabbed a blanket and dragged it with him as he approached Theon, eyes on Theon's sex.

"The wound, boy," Theon demanded.

He had no problem with the boy's attraction to the same sex, but that didn't mean his member was to be eyed up like a piece of meat the moment it was exposed.

"You inked your balls," Maeno protested.

"Yes, I did, it made my sex larger," Theon spat out.

"I know that spell," Maeno responded as he stepped closer. "I'm just—like---the pain that would involve. That's what's got my attention."