|
Torrin felt like he was moving, but it was a different sensation than he was used to. It wasn't like being carried at all.
In fact, it was cold. And wet.
He only blinked one eye open even though he thought to open them both. Water lapped at the unopened eye, in his ear. Was he
still in the creek?
He wriggled experimentally. Darian must have retreated from him sometime after he fell asleep, but he still lay on top of
Torrin. Torrin didn't feel crushed, though – just comfortably weighed down. It felt good. He relaxed and closed his
eyes on purpose. He wasn't even shocked by his actions. Just content.
Why was that?
“You awake?” Darian's breath whisked into his ear, making him shiver.
He made a noncommittal sound that had Darian chuckling. A sharp movement showed that Darian was already interested in another
tumble. Shockingly, he didn't mind the idea.
What was happening to him?
“Come on. Wash your hair quickly and get up. We need to get a wagon.”
Torrin merely nodded and waited until Darian was off him. He quickly rinsed his hair and dressed. Then he went to Darian's
side and followed him to the town.
The town was small and wall-less. Populated. Quaint.
Yes. It reminded Torrin of Levant.
They entered on what appeared to be market day. People were bustling around, vying for a place in front of the countless vendors.
One vendor's breads were perfuming the air, mixing with the strange smells of assorted people mixed tightly together –
sweat, perfumes, soaps, skins. Some people kindly gave way to them when they entered, and Darian nodded his thanks to them.
Apparently he was not easily recognized.
A fat, middle-aged woman zealously clutched her purchases as she waddled past, glaring heatedly at Darian. Another held her
son's hand and carefully maneuvered him away from Darian as he skipped down the street.
The armor.
Torrin stuck close to Darian, afraid of getting lost – or hit – in the sea of people. Darian, of course, was as
confident as always, easily making his way through the crowd. Torrin tripped and tried to keep up.
The noises made it impossible to tell if Darian was speaking to him, because Torrin was sure the man would never yell just
to be heard. Darian didn't seem to be enticed by the candies they passed or the shining brilliance of the diamonds on another's
stand.
Torrin found himself himself fighting to keep his feet underneath him as someone plowed into him. He yelped and caught his
feet on a woman's foot, making her yell and shout at him. He quickly stepped off of her.
He found himself face-to-face with his assailant and saw a girl with long, light blond hair. It shone almost white in the
sun.
He froze. “Ava...”
She didn't look up at him, so he only saw thin eyebrows and a pert nose. His sister. This girl looked so very much like his
sister.
“I'm sorry.” Her voice was soft, melodious. Was she sixteen, or seventeen, like Ava had been? “Excuse me.”
She turned into the teeming crowd pushing around him and disappeared.
Ava. Ava. He could still see her clearly, laughing as he pulled a face at his mother's bitter potion. Showing him the guy
she had a crush on as they walked together through the streets.
Then – that day. Her skirt bundled at her waist, her body mangled. One leg curved at an impossible angle. And her face,
her beautiful, smiling face, staring silently at him. Pleading... or accusing? Either way, he'd been too late. Far too late.
“Torrin.” He recognized the voice, but couldn't turn to it. He moved forward, unthinking. Walking to her corpse
would solve nothing. He'd already checked before, shouting her name as tears streamed down his face. It was too late. She
was dead.
“Torrin, what are you-”
“Ava.” He said the name, forced it through numb lips. “I saw Ava. But she's dead.”
“Ava?”
“My sister. My sister was here. But she's dead.”
“Shit.” He felt a warm hand on his arm. It was trying to lead him away.
“No!” he screamed. “I can't leave her!”
“Torrin, you must be quiet.”
“No! Ava!” He reached out, but the gawking bodies never took his hand. Never answered. Of course she wouldn't
answer – she was dead. What was he doing, trying to chase a ghost? Morina had already told him that they weren't really
there.
Morina. Where was she? Where was she?
Oh gods, oh gods, that was right – wasn't she dead, too?
He screamed now in pure anguish. They were all dead. Everyone he cared about. Everyone he loved. Was he cursed? Was he cursed
to live alone?
He found himself pressed into something, something hard and warm and unyielding. Familiar. Safe.
“Shh. Shh, my little medic.”
“Darian,” he wailed, clenching his fingers against Darian's shirt. “Don't leave me. Don't go.” Where
was the armor? Did it matter?
“I won't. I'm right here. It's okay.” Safe.
“I don't want to be alone.” Am I really safe now?
“I understand.” Torrin could hear the understanding in Darian's voice. The compassion. Torrin clung to it. There
was no safety in this world... but he felt secure in Darian's arms. Dare he trust so much? What if Darian were killed?
A wave of panic swept over him. “Don't die.”
Torrin felt Darian's sharp intake of breath against his cheek. Here Darian hesitated. “I won't.”
A promise that couldn't possibly be kept, but that soothed nonetheless.
“The carriage is just a few more feet away.”
Few more feet?
It was only then that Torrin realized he was being led somewhere. His feet were moving without his knowledge. And he was shaking.
Oh, gods. He must look a sight. Shivering and shaking like a frightened child and holding onto Darian for dear life. Who knew
that market day was so dangerous?
“Sorry,” he managed. “My sister – she looked like my sister.”
“It's okay. I'm going to put you in the carriage for a minute, okay? I must speak with the driver.”
“What?” But he was already being lifted. He saw a wide yet enclosed space, the armor Darian had worn safely tucked
in a corner. The safe hands disappeared, leaving him in a momentary panic. He moved over to the armor, passing over the pallet
in the opposite corner. It was similar to the wagon the prince had had, just... a lot emptier.
He touched Darian's armor reverently. Darian wouldn't leave this. He'd be back.
But how long would it be until Darian was killed? How long until he was alone again, once more left in the hands of an enemy?
He doubted he'd be so lucky again.
Darian.
He closed his eyes. It was true that he'd been lucky in getting caught by Darian. If someone else had caught him, he would
have been killed long ago, and painfully at that. And if he'd escaped, he would most likely have died before making it to
the next town. Or he may have gone with the other survivors and eventually died against the Coraths. And maybe even had a
hand in killing Darian.
When had Darian become so important, so priceless? Why was sex more... appealing? He wanted to be... to have sex with
Darian. Why?
No. No. He couldn't afford to question that. Not now. Maybe not ever.
He heard Darian talking with someone up close. In front. The driver.
He'd freaked out. It was humiliating to admit that, even to himself. But that girl had looked so similar to his sister. Oh,
he could see some differences now – the height, the length of hair. And while was shy, his sister had been more open.
She would have looked him in the eye. That girl didn't. His sister bad been slightly skinnier.
But all of these were insignificant compared to the fact that a girl in this market looks almost identical to his sister.
He buried his head in his hands and told himself it was useless to cry.
<*>
Once the driver understood that there would be no stopping no matter what, Darian returned to Torrin.
Considering everything Torrin had gone through, it was incredible that he hadn't broken down before this. His sister? He hadn't
known that Torrin had had siblings. Had there been others? His parents, most likely. A brother? A girlfriend? Certainly not
a boyfriend. Of that Darian was certain.
But there had been friends. Obviously family. His father had destroyed Torrin's joy, his future. Now, staying with Darian
was the only true choice left to him.
“Damn you, father,” Darian growled under his breath.
He stepped up into the carriage to find Torrin crouched in the corner with his armor. The driver pulled out as he kneeled
beside his little concubine. “Torrin?”
“Sorry,” Torrin mumbled. “I caused a scene.”
Darian could only smile. His little medic was a survivor. “Our outfits would cause a bit of a scene, anyway.”
The words were meant to comfort, but only seemed to remind Torrin of what he was wearing – and who he was associating
with.
It was an impossible situation. Torrin wouldn't be safe without Darian, but Darian was taking Torrin straight to his enemy's
castle – the thick of danger. Darian wanted Torrin happy, yet he couldn't let Torrin leave. He cared for Torrin, but
only used him for sex.
Impossible. It was all so impossible.
But.. if he ever heard Torrin scream like that again – full of hopelessness and despair... he just might break.
And that, he thought, was the most important thing right now.
“Come here.” He moved Torrin around until the medic was cuddled on his lap. “Rest.” Darian held Torrin
close and hoped he could keep that sound from ever existing again.
He would give his life for it.
<*>
He fell asleep in Darian's arms, only to awaken in the evening. He found himself on the pallet, Darian's arms around him.
They stopped for a short bathroom break, but otherwise kept moving through the night.
It was strange. Torrin was sill tense. He still expected an attack at any moment. Things couldn't be so easy after all of
this, could it? Torrin's life lately had been so unlucky... so awful... staying with Darian like this, safe in the back of
a carriage, could never last.
And always with that thought would come the memory of where they were headed. Of course it wouldn't last.
But still, why did he find himself feeling safe, even now? Darian's arms seemed to be an anchor to reality. The only anchor
he needed. Why was that? Why was Darian so precious to him?
That morning, after having his little breakdown, he'd found solace in Darian's arms, just as he did now. It was as if all
the nightmarish things in his past has occurred just to get him to this one place.
Why did that thought help to comfort his pain?
Ava, Mother, Father, Morina... all of his friends and neighbors... what he'd lost somehow, being with Darian made it less
painful to know the loss. He could look back on it with less pain.
Except for when it was slammed in his face. Then it was difficult to look back with anything except despair.
What was it about Darian that made him so indispensable to Torrin? What had made it so? When had it started?
Torrin was afraid of these thoughts, afraid of where they may lead. Darian was becoming too important to him. It was
dangerous to fall in love with an enemy prince.
By the gods, Torrin thought with horror. Was that what he was doing?
<*>
The ride was simple and slow. Once day broke across the sky, Darian and Torrin got up from the bed and enjoyed an opulent
breakfast of preserved eggs and bacon. After living off the land for such a long time, the food tasted wonderful on Torrin's
tongue. He groaned a few times in ecstasy, making Darian chuckle at him.
Torrin watched Darian eat out of the corner of his eye. It was strange, seeing Darian in this new light. Love? Could it be?
No. It was absolutely impossible. It would be insane to fall in love with someone like Darian. Absolutely insane. Darian was
a Corath. Their prince. Darian was the man who had led the army in the end; he'd led the battle that fell Fort Shiro.
And then he had... he'd...
He'd saved Torrin countless times.
So what? Torrin roughly tore a piece of bread and stuffed it in his mouth, sighing in pleasure as the melted butter
slid over his tongue. He was just grateful. Darian had done much for him, so the strange feeling inside of him was merely
gratitude.
But Torrin frowned at that, because he'd felt gratitude before, and it had been nothing like this.
<*>
It was simple enough to see that something was on his medic's mind, something dark and ill-boding. Was he thinking again of
his sister and Levant?
Darian grimaced at the thought and cursed his father resoundly. For what happened to Torrin, Darian hoped a place was reserved
for the Corathian king in the bottom regions of Hell.
“Medic,” he said finally, and Torrin's head popped up like an arrow had been shot at him, “we should talk.”
It took less than a second for Darian to read the sudden trepidation that stole over Torrin's face.
Darian leaned forward. “When we reach the castle on the morrow, there are rules that you must follow.” The trepidation
seemed to triple. “You are my concubine, and as such you must come in behind me and to my right. Your shirt will be
removed to show that you are not a soldier nor an assistant. If, during our entrance, nobles wish to touch you, you must allow
it.”
“What?” Torrin gasped, as placed a hand on his neck as if being choked. “I have to...”
“It is merely the first time, as my return will also be your initiation as my official concubine. Any noble there –
nobles only - may touch you, mostly as a way for me to prove the worth of my concubine. It is a law that has passed
down generations. No matter my wish, I cannot afford to fight this law.”
Torrin bit his lip for a moment. Darian's quick eyes caught the trembling in his hands, the fear in his eyes. He hated it.
But until his father died, there was nothing he could do about it.
For once, the thought brought into him a helpless rage. He'd been angered before, but never with this feeling, as if his rage
meant nothing. He felt weak.
Because, he thought bitterly, for now, he was weak. He constantly had to let his life be delegated by his father. To
become king, he had to act ruthless.
And when he became king, all the oppression would end. He would see to it personally.
Torrin stopped eating after that, which worried Darian. He had thought it a good idea to warn Torrin well before-hand, but
it was still along ride away from the castle. The last thing he wanted was Torrin to starve from stress.
He finished off his own meal and watched Torrin carefully. He looked in danger of throwing up or fainting. With small frown,
he touched the boy's forehead.
“Darian?” The boy's voice was soft, but Darian could feel nothing wrong.
“Are you feeling well?” he asked.
Torrin's brow furrowed. “I'm fine.”
“Not just physically,” Darian pressed.
“Fine,” Torrin muttered. “I'm fine. I just...”
“I know,” Darian said with a sigh. “I understand, but it must be done.” He shook his head. “I
should be able to feign a need for rest, so that you need not meet the rest of the trials that await you.”
This time it was Torrin who frowned. “Darian, are you okay?”
Darian shook his head. “What?”
“You started speaking strangely,” he told him.
Darian grimaced. When he was in his father's court, he was expected to act a certain way. Apparently thinking about
being in the court made him act the same as if he was in the court. “I apologize,” he said finally. “There
are many laws you must learn.”
Darian waited, knowing Torrin would feel overwhelmed. But it was too late to turn back now. Far too late.
<*>
Laws? More? What else could there be? He had to humiliate himself the first day he arrived, and he had to do it before
the King of Corath himself. Just the thought of that unknown man – of anyone other than Darian – touching him
made him feel sick.
He wasn't a toy. He wasn't a pet. He wasn't a doll or a puppet or a plaything. But despite that, he had nowhere to run.
And oddly... scarily... he didn't want to run. He still felt safe with Darian, and he wouldn't feel safe anywhere else. It
was terrifying, but the thought of being freed and not being near Darian was so horrific Torrin couldn't allow himself to
imagine it.
He... didn't want to leave Darian.
But it wasn't love. It couldn't be love. It could be gratitude or friendship or a mix of many things, but love it was
not.
He didn't like how often he had to deny it to himsel.
“So what are they?” he asked finally.
Darian seemed surprised that he would willingly ask. “At mealtimes, you will sit by my seat on the dais – on the
floor. You will speak only when spoken to, and only when I give permission. You will eat only what I give you. After the fist
day, you are to allow no one to touch you. If someone does, I want it reported right away. You may not hit them – only
I am allowed to punish. If I want someone to touch you, you must allow it – but it will not happen.”
Torrin struggled to assimilate it all. “What's my punishment> I mean, if I don't follow orders, what...?”
Darian's gaze was sharp. “I whip you according to your wrongdoing.”
Well that was an absolutely horrifying thought.
Darian's eyes warmed a bit. “Do not worry, little medic. Just do as I say and stay near me and you'll be fine. A concubine
doesn't need to be in public much. For the most part, you'll stay in my room. It is only during important times – with
important guests – that you'll need to make an appearance.”
That was only mildly comforting. “Will the king... touch me?” Torrin asked, his voice quiet and eyes cast down.
Darian's voice turn to acid. “Yes.”
Torrin flinched. “H-how...?”
There was a horribly meaningful pause. “He'll touch your lips, your chest, and your thighs. He'll test the length of
your erection and make cruel comments.”
Torrin made a strangled noise. “He'll-”
“I'll wipe the memory away,” Darian swore heatedly. Passionately. He gently lifted Torrin's eyes to his. “I
swear.”
Torrin tried to smile, but it hurt. He let the attempt fall in failure. “I... trust you.” It was almost horrifying
to admit that.
At Torrin's words, Darian was at a loss. He let his hand slip from Torrin's chin and sat back. What exactly did Torrin mean?
Because his tone said there may be something more to it than that.
<*>
The day had passed uneventfully after that. Night had fallen, bringing the songs of the crickets and the light of a half moon.
They had decided to sleep, Darian tugging Torrin possessively close. Torrin didn't need any special abilities to see that
Darian was as upset about the situation Torrin would soon be in as Torrin himself was.
Still, Darian at least managed to gain rest. Torrin was unable to do that same, as fear shot adrenaline through his veins.
Soon he would enter an even worse Hell than any he had been in before. He would meet the ever-feared King of Corath, then
would be shamed and disgraced before him. Him and any other noble who wanted to cop a feel, Torrin remembered. And he would
sit on the floor by Darian like a dog.
He would never be human again.
But even now, he couldn't make himself attempt another escape. He was warm here, tightly wrapped up in Darian's strong arms.
He was safe and comfortable here.
He was an idiot. Why the hell was he still here? He knew he was about to enter something no same man would ever willingly
walk into. He was a fool.
But still... something about Darian pulled at him. Was it the man's strength? His good looks Was it his cunning? No, it wasn't
that, because more often than not Darian's sly mind managed to frighten the hell out of him.
No, it was none of that It was the rare kindness, the rarer smiles. The laughter that never failed to warm Torrin's heart.
And it was times like now, when Darian's vulnerability was shown, a rare and oddly beautiful sight that managed to prove him
human. Like now, as he held Torrin tight, afraid to let him go even in sleep. Darian was afraid, as well. Afraid for him.
Torrin allowed his body to fold further into Darian's. With Darian, he would be safe. His worry pertained to the evil king
and the nobles who, since Darian obviously didn't like them, would probablly be evil was well. That was what he was afraid
of. What terrified him.
But in fearing that, he was losing sight of the most important thing, the reason that he was willing to face this new Hell.
And it was holding him right now.
Darian. He couldn't leave Darian, especially not now as he felt Darian's vice-like grip. Darian couldn't let him go. How could
he let himself go? How could he leave?
He lifted his hands and squeezed Darian's arms. “I won't leave,” he told him, even as he felt Darian's breath
continue on as even as it had when he'd first fallen asleep. Torrin was talking to himself. But that was fine – he was
promising it to himself, after all. “I swear I won't leave you, Darian.”
He fell asleep, encased in those strong, capable arms.
And as he did, he thought he felt those arms clasp around him even tighter.
Return to Original Fiction
Previous Chapter
Next Chapter
|
