Heart Wood, page 1
Heart Wood
by
Katey Hawthorne
Heart Wood
Copyright © June 2024 by Katey Hawthorne
All rights reserved.
ISBN 978-1-7357854-2-4
Editors: Suzene Campos del Toro and Sarah Eldridge
Cover Artist: Amanda Pillar
This e-book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between characters, places, or events within to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
We do not consent to any Artificial Intelligence (AI), generative AI, large language model, machine learning, chatbot, or other automated analysis, generative process, or replication program to reproduce, mimic, remix, summarize, or otherwise replicate any part of this creative work, via any means: print, graphic, sculpture, multimedia, audio, or other medium. We support the right of humans to control their artistic works.
Acknowledgements
Endless thanks to Suzene and Sarah, who helped and supported me, laughed and cried with me the whole way through the Stone City and into the Heart Wood. Thank you to Jenna Rose, who never fails to encourage and enthuse no matter what the project is. And finally, thanks to the cabin in the woods crew. This is why we need more cabins in the woods.
Love y’all.
Part I: Hendrik
Chapter 1: The Great See, Stone City, Granite Era 113, Spring
Dark-hooded priests said the Prayer over and over, each repetition a little louder, their voices blending together into one overwhelming string of holy syllables. Incense, slightly intoxicating even in limited amounts, swirled around their heads as if rising from them, then slowly curled its way out to the pews. Intricately carved faces watched from the stone buttresses above, Children of The Blood elevated to godhood a century or more ago. An endless procession of holy and blooded citizens spilled down the central aisle, each more beautifully dressed than the last, flashing with gold or gems or expensive dyes.
Hendrik barely noticed any of it. During the full moon services, he only ever had eyes for Kaspar. When the first Children of the Blood appeared, beautiful in their bright white, gold-trimmed linen, their skin fresh-scrubbed and hair shining, Hen’s breath caught. It always had, almost from the beginning, in anticipation of Kass’s face appearing. It used to take forever to find him, with Kass at the back with the other young ones; now, Kass would be in the second or third row. He’d have his 21st nameday this year.
Then, it was only a matter of time until he inherited his godhood.
Hendrik pushed the thought away and kept scanning the white-robed crowd. Kass’s liquid black eyes caught his gaze, and Kass winked. Right there, in the middle of a full moon procession. Hendrik flushed to the tips of his ears and tried to look stern, but his heart soared.
Kass’s full, red lips formed silent words, see you soon, as he passed Hendrik’s pew.
Piret snorted behind him. “By the Stone, how do they even let you keep him? Is he disordered?”
Hendrik elbowed her as he turned to face the front of the chamber. Piret grunted in protest, smoothing her tabard. Identical to Hendrik’s, it showed the white outline of the central tower, the Guardhall. “Don’t call him disordered. He’s perfect order and light, thanks very much.”
“I’m just saying, he’s going to get you both in trouble,” she whispered. “Look at that priest; she’s watching you.”
Hendrik had noticed, actually, but he shrugged. Such things used to scare him: What if they found out? What if they gave Kass another guard? What if they stripped Hendrik of his guard’s tabard and sent him to shovel donkey shit? Lately, he cared less and less, even if Kass’s lack of discretion still embarrassed him sometimes.
What did Hendrik have to be afraid of? Of shaming his family? He’d already risen higher than anyone in his line ever had. Of losing Kass?
Hen refused to follow the thought to its logical conclusion. “He’s a god,” he said under his breath.
Piret was silent for a moment. The Prayer grew louder. The breaks and stops, the places the priests paused for breath, made no sense; nobody interrupted sentences like that to suck in air. And yet they said the Prayer the same way every time, every full moon, every day, every inheritance. In one of the silences, she whispered, “Not yet.”
“That's where you’re wrong.” Hendrik fixed his gaze to the back of Kass’s dark head, watching him move farther down the aisle, smaller white-cloaked Children of the Blood trailing after him.
The Prayer grew louder and louder, until there was no point trying to talk, and Hen was grateful. He could feel Piret's gaze, hot with concern, and needed a moment to collect himself before he faced it. When it finally stopped, one of the high priests stood and recited the names of the Children of the Blood who’d inherited this moon. Two names, as usual. Hen tried not to flinch.
When it was over, Hendrik muttered “So it is” with the rest of the congregation, then tried to escape the chamber before his fellows of the Guardhall could invite him to share a drink. Piret grabbed his sleeve, though, which meant he’d have to tear out of her grip if he wanted to get away. “I promised I’d come to the back door,” he told her quietly.
She shook her head and leaned in close. “Can we talk?”
“Tomorrow after drills.” Hen pulled his arm away as gently as possible. “Really. He’s impossible if I don’t follow through with things.”
She frowned and shook her head again but let him slip into the stream of worshipers exiting down the aisle.
Sunshine and fresh air blew the lingering foggy sensation of incense off quickly, and Hen ducked through the square in front of the See deftly, avoiding people who knew him or might otherwise slow him down. He wasn’t the first guard out; a string of soldiers in matching white tower tabards leaned against the massive granite wall, waiting on their charges, most likely. Hen nodded to those who greeted him and ignored those who watched him with irritatingly knowing expressions.
A small crowd of families waited at the side door, but Hen didn’t bother looking for Kass’s—they never came. Hendrik envied and hated them for it. Some younger children rushed out all at once, their white linens rolled up in their arms. A few of them hugged family members, others went to stand next to their guards. Little guards, 12 and 13 years old, fresh out of Academy and full of idealism, swords hanging awkwardly at their hips. Hendrik envied them, too, but he couldn’t hate them. He’d been them.
Kass pushed out the door next, talking to someone over his shoulder as he spilled into the sunlight, curls glinting. When he spotted Hen, he bounded over and dropped his balled-up linens in Hen’s outstretched arms. “Come on, I’m starving,” he announced.
“You could at least fold these properly,” Hendrik said with a sigh. “I’m not a damned maid.”
“I was in a hurry to get to you.” Kass’s smile lit up his face, teeth flashing white, prominent canines ever-so-slightly crooked. His dimples formed the most charming little valleys to frame it. He’d been a pretty boy but he was turning into an extraordinarily handsome man, now that all his sharp angles and lines were emerging.
Hendrik might’ve been biased, but some things were just true, regardless of what he thought of them. Kass being beautiful was one.
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Hen lied.
Kass glanced behind them, then swatted Hen’s ass hard enough to sting through his tabard and leather pants.
“Stone and fire,” Hen said through his teeth, trying to look like the flush in his face was from anger. “Piret’s right, you’re going to get us into trouble.”
“Oh, come on. They wouldn’t give me a new guard now.” Kass laughed. “This is our time. Let’s enjoy it!”
That was Hen’s job, to make sure Kaspar stayed happy, healthy, and safe. To make sure he was a perfect specimen when the time came for his inheritance. To keep him from driving himself mad with loneliness, as so many Children of the Blood used to in the bad days. It was not Hen’s job to make himself happy, however. That was just an accident of fate, and it hadn’t been intentional, so what could he do?
“Piret’s a sour puss, anyhow,” Kass insisted. “She’s just mad Lyla doesn’t go in for girls.”
“I don’t know if Piret does either,” Hen mused.
“I don’t think Piret goes in for anything.” Kass chuckled.
Hendrik snorted. “Good for her.”
Kass licked his lips, leaving them glinting. “You know what I go in for?”
“I do,” Hendrik assured him.
“That uniform. I don’t know what it is; you wear it so much better than the other guards.”
“You would think that,” Hen said, though he was flushing again. He picked up his pace as they ducked into an alleyway rather than taking the main thoroughfare back to the
Complex. Side streets were always preferable; fewer eyes and ears.
“Because of what’s underneath,” Kass said with mock thoughtfulness, nodding. “You might be a little bit right. But even before I knew—”
“When was that?” Hen rolled his eyes, trying not to smile and failing.
“You remember.” Kass grabbed his arm ducked into a doorway.
Hen followed but nodded over his shoulder. “We should—”
“You remember.” Kass went up on his toes and put his forehead to Hendrik’s. He lowered his voice, his breath hot on Hen’s lips. “How I looked at you, even before I knew you were looking back.”
A thrill shot through Hendrik’s middle. This was a lot, in public, even for Kass, bu
“Just kiss me. One time.” Kass’s smile was huge. “It makes me feel like I’m already a god.”
If he’d said it once, he’d said it a million times. So Hendrik said it again. “You are, Kass.”
Impatiently, Kass slid his hand into Hen’s short-cropped hair and pulled him in until their mouths connected. Hendrik’s knees gave out a little; he tucked the linen bundle under one arm and slid the other around Kass’s waist, pressing him against the door jamb. You’re getting sloppy. You can’t let him have things that are bad for him. That’s part of your job, too, his mind said, while his body and heart told him to drop to his knees and suck Kaspar off right there and then. He could feel his prick through his tunic and hose, not all the way hard, but it was a matter of time, the way Kass was angling against Hen’s thigh.
Hen bit at Kass’s bottom lip, sudden and sharp, and Kass yelped and laughed. He also rocked his hips against Hendrik, inviting more.
Hendrik shook his head. “Behave.” It hurt to stop but it was his job. Why was this so much harder now than it used to be? Why was Kass so much more convincing all of a sudden? Why did Hendrik just not care?
“Or else what?” Kass asked, his lips wet and parted. He lifted his chin defiantly.
“Or you’ll have to watch me fuck Jak…”
Kass gasped and grinned.
“…from across the room, with your hands tied behind your back,” Hendrik finished.
Kass’s face fell. “You wouldn’t!”
Hen nodded and stepped back, adjusting his own prick in his leather pants. If he did it just right, his belt would keep his secrets for him, at least. Damn, but they had a ways to go before they were back in their cell. “Try me.”
“That’s just mean,” Kass whined.
Times like these, Hendrik really wondered why guards and their charges weren’t supposed to fuck. It came in handy as a bargaining chip sometimes, especially when they were spoiled little princes like Kaspar.
And the fact that Hen would literally never try to tell Kass what to do in the bedroom, regardless of his behavior elsewhere, was what made it funny.
*
“What’s into you, lately?” Hendrik asked a half hour later.
Kass, sweaty and breathless, curled into his side and threw an arm over his naked middle. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re always a horny little—”
“Oh! And you’re not! You had my dick in your mouth before I even got the door shut behind us.”
Hen chuckled, too happy, satisfied, comfortable, alive to pretend to argue. “Yes, but you nearly jumped me in the alley, back there.”
“You liked it.”
“That’s not the point. I know you think we don’t have to be as careful anymore…and you’re probably right. But that doesn’t mean we can be disordered. We shouldn’t take anything for granted.” As much as he was inclined to, lately.
Silence. At first, Hendrik assumed Kass was just looking for a way to explain himself. But then the silence stretched on too long, and Hen pulled back a little and rolled onto his side to face him. “Kass? What?”
“I don’t know.” Kass frowned. “I really don’t. I just feel…like, it’s getting closer, you know? There were years where I just—I thought it’d never be my turn, and nothing would ever change. But now, sometimes I just feel it.”
“Feel what?”
“Euphoria,” Kass said slowly. “Holy euphoria, is the only way I can describe it. I really—I mean, everyone’s told me my whole life that I was destined to be a god. But I actually feel it now, sometimes, and it’s wild.”
Hen blinked away a burning sensation in his eyes. “That’s good, right?”
“It’s amazing. It’s what the priests said would happen. I didn’t know how good it would feel. I just want to run and scream and fuck for joy, I guess.” Kass chuckled, low and sweet.
Hendrik reached out slowly, ran his fingers down Kass’s cheek, over his dimple, and down to his neck. It was long and graceful, like the rest of him, like his face, like his legs, like his prick, like his feet. It did seem only fair that, “Everyone will worship you like I do.”
“Not like you do.” Kass grinned. “You’ll be my co-ruler, when I get my palace in heaven.”
Hendrik wasn’t sure that was allowed, even for a god. But every time Kass told him this story about how they’d be together forever in his palace, Hen hoped he came a little closer to believing it. “Tell me about it.”
“We’ll have a huge courtyard with a fountain. And off that will be a room that no one but us, not even our thousands of servants, will be allowed in. Unless we invite them.” Kass laughed and waved his hand around their small, tidy cell. It was adequate, cozy, pretty, even. But it was no palace. “It’ll be covered with pillows—silk covers and tassels, the whole thing.”
“Sounds gaudy.”
“Super gaudy,” Kass said seriously. “It’ll be amazingly bad. And we’ll fuck on every single one of them.”
“How will we keep track?” Hendrik usually asked some silly question or another at this point in the story, though it had little variations depending on their moods. This was a new one.
“We’ll have a list. Oh, no, wait, we’ll make badges. And once we’ve fucked on a pillow we’ll get a badge sewn on it.”
“Genius.” The idea of silken pillows and badges had never been brought up by a priest before, that Hen knew of, but it was heaven; why shouldn’t a god have what he wanted, no matter how absurd? “What about when we run out of pillows?”
“More pillows,” Kass said, still straight-faced. Then burst out laughing. “Okay, no, wait, I can think of something better to collect than sex pillows. You must’ve sucked my brains out, too.”
“I do sometimes think you keep them in your dick,” Hen admitted.
The pillow fight that ensued ended as all their pillow fights had ended for years.
Chapter 2: Mid-District, Stone City
The moon rose full and silver, and Hendrik pulled himself away from Kass and back into the streets of the Stone City. Supper-time scents drifted from windows, up and up sometimes five stories, onions and grains and sometimes a waft of meat if he was in a richer neighborhood. Out here, everyone nodded to him with respect, barring a few brawlers and drunks. Out here, no one knew he was the guard who was fucking his charge, or even that he had one; only that he’d graduated from the Academy, gotten his tabard, and was a member of the Guardhall. That was enough. He kept his hand lightly, casually at his sword hilt, even though he’d never—in eight years of taking this exact same walk every full moon—had to draw it. It was just how he walked, how he’d walked since he was 12 years old.
Sometimes Kass made fun of him for being such a soldier. But gently, with a smile and a glance that said he loved it. Hen had never liked being teased until he met Kass.
When he reached the house where he was born, Hendrik slipped inside the red door and through to the hall quietly. When he reached the second door on the right, he knocked.
“Is that my boy?” came Alara’s voice. “Come in, Hen, no need to knock! Welcome home!”
It hadn’t felt like home in a very long time, which was precisely why Hen always knocked. He opened the door, however, and ducked to come into the sitting room. As usual, it was warm and bright, smelling of old paper and candle grease. “Hello, Alara. Konstantin,” he added when his father came into the room.
“You look fine, son, just fine!” Konstantin announced, holding out a hand and coming to him. “Glad you could make it this moon!”
Hendrik shook his hand and, as usual, felt the tension leaving his body once he was pulled into a one-armed bear hug. He inhaled deeply, smelling the metal-and-soap of his father’s beard. “You look good too, Kon.”
“Every time we see you, you’re taller and more handsome,” Alara insisted, as she always did. “Such a credit to order and light! Can I get you some ale?”
“Please,” he said politely, then sat on the couch Konstantin directed him to. “Where’s Kajja?”
