Heart Wood, page 25
“That’s my point,” Hendrik said. “You are. And somehow it’s not a contradiction. I’m not sure how in all the hells you do it, but you make it look so…” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Well, now I have to know.” Dagan sat up and swung his legs over the side of the lounge. “You can’t leave me like that.”
“You’re—you barely come up to my shoulder, but you could kick my ass in a fair fight. You naturally make everyone you meet feel important, but then you try too hard to make them like you. You’re fearless in the face of every single thing the forest throws at you but call yourself a coward. You’re a deadly stalker and hunter, but you’re gentle and so kind to all the animals you meet. You’re this jumble of things that don’t go together, and it’s—” Hendrik exhaled deeply and suddenly, like a sigh but supremely frustrated.
Dagan suddenly knew what it was like to be field dressed by a hunter: skinned, opened up, divested of his organs, and carved up into neat little pieces. It ought to have been a terrifying, hollow thing; indeed, a great, gaping hole in the center of him had just been revealed. But Dagan couldn’t resist the urge to stare directly into it. “Go on,” he said quietly. “You’re perfectly accurate, so far. I’d love to hear the end.”
“It’s fucking beautiful,” Hendrik said finally.
The words rang through Dagan like a hammer on an anvil, shaking him down to his deepest parts. He hadn’t known if it’d be something hurtful or something kind, but he should’ve.
“And since you’ve delivered me safely to the Council now, so you don’t have to be responsible for me anymore, I wanted to tell you.”
“You waited to tell me?” Dagan wondered, having trouble forming words.
“Sort of. I guess I didn’t really…articulate it all in my head until today. But I couldn’t have said anything. I mean, I probably still shouldn’t have. But you were talking about sticking around with me a little while, so I thought it was better if you knew. That I—that I feel that.
“And I didn’t want to regret not saying it.”
Dagan slid off the lounge and crawled to Hendrik, then settled at his feet, arms crossed over Hendrik’s warm, leather-clad thighs, looking up at him. His voice felt rough, unused in his throat. “If you’re trying to seduce me, you couldn’t have done a more complete and perfect job, my darling.”
Hendrik’s flush, lingering along his collar bones beneath his unlaced shirt, crept up his neck and into his ears. “Really? I mean, I’ve seen you turn it on. That was nothing.”
“Oh, how wrong you are,” Dagan replied, bracing against Hendrik’s thighs to come to his knees, putting them nearly at eye level. “I think that was the most astute, heartfelt, and lovely thing anyone has ever said to me in my brief but socially experienced life, Hen.” The nickname came easily, and when there was no protest, Dagan continued, “Thank you.”
Hendrik leaned closer, reaching out to push a wisp of hair that had escaped his braid out of Dagan’s eyes, then tracing his cheekbone.
Dagan leaned into it, so Hendrik cupped his cheek. His gaze lingered on Dagan’s lips as he said, “So, you won’t lose your job if I kiss you?”
“As of thirty minutes ago, no.” Dagan leaned closer. “So long as you’re sure it’s really all the things you just said, and not some misplaced sense of loyalty or debt you need to repay.”
“It’s really all the things I just said,” Hendrik replied, eyes solemn and voice grave. “I do feel loyalty, it’s true. But it’s because of who you are, not what you did.”
“Then please, kiss me.”
Hendrik did, slipping an arm around Dagan’s neck and tilting his head. His breath was warm and sweet, the scent of his soap and skin intoxicating. The first time Dagan had laid eyes on Hen, he’d known that somewhere in there was something he could reach, though it had been buried beneath layers of pain and fear. And he’d known that, given the opportunity, Hendrik would want him at least once. If people could be relied on for anything, it was to be horny in Dagan’s presence.
He just hadn’t known it could happen this fast. It would’ve been so, so easy to give in to the sweet, delicious sensation of lips sliding against his, Hendrik’s tongue darting into his mouth, Hendrik’s hand brushing down his back. Dagan knew what he wanted, and now that he knew Hendrik wanted it, too, he could have it.
But it was more complicated than that. So as Dagan closed off the kiss, he let his eyes flutter open to catch Hen’s gaze. Hen’s mouth hung slightly open, lips pink and pretty, those lightning-blue eyes wide as if in surprise.
Dagan asked, quietly, “Was that alright?”
“Perfect,” Hen whispered. “I dreamed of it. Of you. Like this.”
Dagan traced Hendrik’s exquisite jawline with the pad of his thumb, watching him carefully. “Tell me.”
“We sat on your blanket and kissed like this, but like we’d done it a million times before.” Hen’s warm breath puffed against Dagan’s wet lips as he spoke, now.
Dagan traced Hen’s ear, now, then the fringe of freshly cut hair over it. “Were we bored with it?”
Hen shook his head tightly. “Well, I wasn’t. I couldn’t get enough. After I woke up, I thought about it all day. How it felt.”
“That isn’t why you’ve been so distracted, surely?”
Hen nodded. “I felt guilty for a little while. About thinking about it. About feeling so good, wanting to feel so good. The world’s falling apart.”
“All the more reason to allow yourself something good.” Dagan kissed the tip of Hen’s nose. He had never been prouder of himself, happier to have someone dream of him, than he was right here and now. “But I understand. Don’t rush yourself, darling. I’ve got you.”
“Do you want me, Dagan?” The question quavered in the few inches between them, delicate as a hummingbird.
“You must know I do. Almost from the moment we met.” Dagan leaned his forehead against Hen’s, his forearms on Hen’s thighs. “But I thought it might be something for the distant future. Not for today.”
“And if I want it today?”
“It’s yours,” Dagan whispered, throat raw. “But again, I beg you, don’t rush yourself. For both our sakes. I couldn’t bear being a mistake. Not for you.”
He hadn’t realized that feeling was there until it popped out of his mouth. There it was, sharp and jagged but still heart-shaped. He’d made many mistakes. He’d been many mistakes. But for Hendrik, still broken-hearted and lost, to think of him as such would be too much even for his slutty little heart.
“You couldn’t be.” Hen tilted again, mouth finding Dagan’s once more. It went deeper this time, and he reached down for Dagan’s hips, pulling him upward.
Dagan came gladly, crawling into Hen’s lap so he straddled it, legs wrapped loosely around Hendrik’s middle, ass firmly planted on Hen’s thick thighs. He didn’t scoot all the way forward, didn’t try to angle against Hen’s prick or get any pressure on his own. He just kissed him, ruffling his hair and exploring his mouth for long, lingering moments. Hen kept hold of his hips at first, fingers warm and searching as they slipped beneath his shirt to press into his waist.
“You feel so good,” Hendrik muttered against his lips. “Better than the dream, even.”
Overwhelmed by this pronouncement, Dagan kissed him again, sucking gently when Hen’s tongue was offered. The kiss lasted even longer, this time, the slick sensation sending a jolt of heat through Dagan’s body and directly into his prick. Hendrik’s hands roamed upward beneath his shirt, appreciative, but quick. As if Dagan might disappear soon.
Hendrik closed off that kiss and brushed his lips against Dagan’s jaw. Then his neck, that sweet spot just beneath his ear. He sucked, then licked at the spot, and Dagan shivered in his arms.
“You taste good, too.” Hendrik smiled against his throat, kissed it once more, then looked up. “Is this okay?”
“It’s divine,” Dagan assured him with a low, breathy chuckle. “I’m happy to follow your lead, darling.”
Hendrik smiled, all the sweeter for his lips being extra pink and puffy. “I just want to kiss you. Hold you. For a while.”
“I can’t think of anything I’d like more.”
“Well, I can think of a few things.” Hendrik’s grin turned positively wicked. “But it’s a good place to start, anyhow.”
As Dagan laughed, Hendrik wrapped both arms around him and pulled him forward, so the inside of Dagan’s thighs pressed tight into his middle. Dagan bit down to keep from groaning at the sudden pressure against his swollen cock, held fast against his leg and Hendrik’s hip.
“Okay?” Hendrik whispered.
“Perfect,” Dagan assured him, rubbing his nose against Hen’s and giving a little hum of approval.
Hendrik tilted his face once more, and this time they kissed hard and fast enough that the edges of their teeth bit into lips briefly. Dagan huffed as the lick of pain registered in his prick as pleasure, and Hendrik smiled into his mouth as if he knew.
And then, someone knocked on the door.
Hendrik groaned and pressed his forehead into Dagan’s.
Dagan turned his face toward the door and yelled, “Go away!” with his voice an octave lower than usual.
“Sorry, Dags, but there’s some refugees on the way from Oak Grove,” came Innan’s voice from outside. “They’re coming to see the Council now.”
“We’ll see them later!” he all-but-whined.
Hendrik gave a deep sigh of resignation, though.
They replied, “Your call, but they want you now!”
Dagan buried his face in Hen’s neck, palms flat against his chest. He was so looking forward to feeling these tits up, too. “Ugh.”
“You’re sure Innan isn’t interested in you? Because their timing really needs work.” Hendrik laughed breathlessly.
“Fuck,” Dagan said decisively, pushing himself off Hendrik’s chest enough to look him in the eye. “We should go. Just…fuck.”
Hendrik cupped the back of Dagan’s head and pulled him forward, kissing him one more time with an intensity that had not suffered in the least from the interruption. Dagan shivered again as Hen stroked his hair, all the way down his braid. He allowed himself to be kissed completely senseless, though it wasn’t doing his prick any favors, and took just one long, beautiful, perfect moment to appreciate the way this felt. The urgency and curiosity in Hendrik that precisely mirrored his own.
But as they pulled themselves apart, laughing a little shyly, smiling secretly, it was the words Dagan kept going back to, in his mind. Hendrik’s seductive words, calling him beautiful for all the things he struggled to love about himself.
Chapter 2: Wildcrafter Settlement, Heart Wood
“Not to be rude,” Dagan snapped, of course fully intending to be rude, “but I was about to spend a lovely evening making out with that beautiful man, and I’m not happy about the interruption.”
They sat in the busy winery hall, on the far side of the screen. The Council had called Hendrik in first, alone, and he’d gone with a wary look in Dagan’s direction.
Innan’s gingery eyebrows were high. “You haven’t already? I assumed you’d fucked his brains out at least once or twice.”
“No!” Dagan accepted a cup of cider from a server, hoping it was strong, and shot Innan what he hoped was a withering look. “I was escorting him!”
“Oh, right. I forgot about that. Thanks,” they told the serving girl. “Sorry, just, the way he was looking at you, it seemed like he’d already had you and was thirsty for more.”
Suddenly Dagan was slightly less irritated, if no less horny. “Really?”
Innan chuckled into their cider. “I’ve seen the look before. Many times.”
“No.” Dagan shook his head, because that wasn’t right, exactly. “I mean, yes, of course. But he’s—” He huffed, looking for a way to explain. “He seduced me! With words!”
Innan blinked rapidly, their gold-and-orange eyelashes like the wings of some tiny butterfly. “What did he say?”
“That basically everything I think is terrible about me makes him like me. Except he said it very poetically, and I wish I’d written it down, but I was too busy crawling into his lap.”
“Damnation.” Innan looked surprised, glancing at the screened-off part of the hall as if they might see something through it. “He doesn’t seem all that perceptive. Or poetic.”
Dagan sighed. Of course, Innan would understand. They might not be perpetually horny like him, but they were decidedly romantic in the right circumstances. “I know.” Dagan took another drink, trying not to pout and probably failing.
Innan nodded thoughtfully. “Beautiful eyes, though.”
“Sweet forest gods, I know.” Dagan sighed once more, this time just for dramatic effect, and leaned his shoulder against Innan’s. “We’ll take it slow. As slow as he needs. But it was going so well…”
“Slow?” Innan cocked their head curiously.
“It’s not my story to tell.” Dagan chewed at his bottom lip for a moment. He could still taste Hendrik, if he thought hard enough. “But our refugee has a broken heart.”
“If he’s seducing you with words, he must be healing,” Innan suggested. “I’m proud of you.”
“Oh? Not judging me for having another pretty hanger-on?” Dagan smirked.
Innan flushed. “I did think it was something like that. I’m sorry, Dags. I just—he’s very good-looking, and he’s our age, and the way he looks at you…”
Dagan bumped them with his shoulder again. “You’re forgiven. For that part, anyhow. For interrupting us, not so much.”
“Very fair of you.” Innan smiled. “Do you want to talk about it? About you and him?”
“I didn’t think there was a me and him,” Dagan admitted. “Not until a half hour ago, anyhow. I thought maybe someday we’d meet up again, when I was a capable scout and he wasn’t so in love with ghost. But then, today, he surprised me.”
“How does it feel? When you’re alone with him?”
“Exciting. But also strangely comfortable.”
“You don’t have to perform?”
Dagan shook his head. “I suppose I did a little at first. But he hadn’t spoken to another living creature in moons, so I focused on reassuring him rather than charming him. It was pure, dumb luck. He sees right through the charm, you know.”
“He is smarter than he looks.”
“It’s unfair, isn’t it? To be that handsome and that smart all at once?”
Innan laughed. “Maybe this is what you both need to—”
“Innan?” Jessica poked her head around the screen. “Dagan, you should come too.”
“About time,” Dagan mumbled, though he made sure Jessica couldn’t see his face when he did. As they stood to join the Council, several new faces entered the hall, carrying travel packs as if they’d just come off the path. They made for the back room, as well. The refugees from Oak Grove, almost certainly.
At least he’d get to meet them, too. Dagan rounded the screen, Innan on his heels, and Hendrik looked up from a seat at the Council table. He smiled and looked slightly relieved, and Dagan tried to look reassuring.
Then, Hendrik’s gaze traveled over his shoulder, and his beautiful eyes went wide. As Dagan turned to see who it was, Hendrik said: “Piret?” And then, louder and more urgently, “Kajja?”
And within moments, he blew past Dagan to catch a flying girl in his arms.
The first thing Dagan noticed, when he caught a glimpse of her small, heart-shaped face, was that she had the exact same lightning-blue eyes as Hendrik.
Interlude: A Sister’s Story
As told in the winery hall of the Wildcrafter Settlement of the Heart Wood, on the fifth night of the Grain Moon Waxing in the Year of the Butterflies
After Kass and the others inherited, we expected a visit from you, Hen. When you didn’t show a few days after the full moon, Alara decided you were taken up with some important priest guard business, or that’s what she told all the neighbors. Konstantin and I knew something was wrong, though we didn’t talk about it. You know those looks he gives, though, when he gets all lost in thought. I started walking up to the High City, looking for you or someone who knew where you were. I brought flowers and offerings to the See for Kass and Lyla. Well, that’s what I said, anyhow. Really, I was looking for you.
A friend of mine wanted to see the Red Lantern, even though we can’t really afford it without a guard for clout. So, we sneaked out and into the Tavern District, and—remember that little stall where we had the firewater before we went to the Lantern? That’s where I saw Piret! She looked rough—sorry, but you really did. No, I mean really, like you’d been drinking for a week straight. Sorry, but it’s true.
Anyhow, Piret shook it off enough to get us into the Lantern, and I introduced my friend to Leandro. And while they were off doing what Leandro does, Piret introduced me to Jak. He’s resistance, Hen! Can you believe it? They both told me about Sister Eva and what happened the day of the inheritance. I’m so, so sorry, Hen, it’s devastating, I know. I was even sadder, then, because I knew something bad had happened, but now I felt like you had to be dead. The last time Piret saw you, you went charging after those priests down the tunnel. She and Sister Eva turned back—I’m getting there, Piret! Piret wanted to go after you, but Sister Eva convinced her that was disordered, which, to be fair, it really was, Hen. What were you thinking?
Actually, no, never mind, I know what you were thinking. We’ll talk about how I was right, later.
So, the next day, Sister Eva introduced her to all the resistance people. Oh, right, the resistance! It’s an underground network of people in the City who are carefully, quietly fighting to free us of the tyranny of the See—officially, anyhow. But we all know there’s something else, something even more sinister behind the See, and that you and Piret saw evidence of that when you saw what it did to Kass and Lyla. There are a lot of wild ideas about what it is, but Sister Eva said it’s a dark being who’d been there since the time of the Founder, and who’d kept the City safe but through terrible means.
“Well, now I have to know.” Dagan sat up and swung his legs over the side of the lounge. “You can’t leave me like that.”
“You’re—you barely come up to my shoulder, but you could kick my ass in a fair fight. You naturally make everyone you meet feel important, but then you try too hard to make them like you. You’re fearless in the face of every single thing the forest throws at you but call yourself a coward. You’re a deadly stalker and hunter, but you’re gentle and so kind to all the animals you meet. You’re this jumble of things that don’t go together, and it’s—” Hendrik exhaled deeply and suddenly, like a sigh but supremely frustrated.
Dagan suddenly knew what it was like to be field dressed by a hunter: skinned, opened up, divested of his organs, and carved up into neat little pieces. It ought to have been a terrifying, hollow thing; indeed, a great, gaping hole in the center of him had just been revealed. But Dagan couldn’t resist the urge to stare directly into it. “Go on,” he said quietly. “You’re perfectly accurate, so far. I’d love to hear the end.”
“It’s fucking beautiful,” Hendrik said finally.
The words rang through Dagan like a hammer on an anvil, shaking him down to his deepest parts. He hadn’t known if it’d be something hurtful or something kind, but he should’ve.
“And since you’ve delivered me safely to the Council now, so you don’t have to be responsible for me anymore, I wanted to tell you.”
“You waited to tell me?” Dagan wondered, having trouble forming words.
“Sort of. I guess I didn’t really…articulate it all in my head until today. But I couldn’t have said anything. I mean, I probably still shouldn’t have. But you were talking about sticking around with me a little while, so I thought it was better if you knew. That I—that I feel that.
“And I didn’t want to regret not saying it.”
Dagan slid off the lounge and crawled to Hendrik, then settled at his feet, arms crossed over Hendrik’s warm, leather-clad thighs, looking up at him. His voice felt rough, unused in his throat. “If you’re trying to seduce me, you couldn’t have done a more complete and perfect job, my darling.”
Hendrik’s flush, lingering along his collar bones beneath his unlaced shirt, crept up his neck and into his ears. “Really? I mean, I’ve seen you turn it on. That was nothing.”
“Oh, how wrong you are,” Dagan replied, bracing against Hendrik’s thighs to come to his knees, putting them nearly at eye level. “I think that was the most astute, heartfelt, and lovely thing anyone has ever said to me in my brief but socially experienced life, Hen.” The nickname came easily, and when there was no protest, Dagan continued, “Thank you.”
Hendrik leaned closer, reaching out to push a wisp of hair that had escaped his braid out of Dagan’s eyes, then tracing his cheekbone.
Dagan leaned into it, so Hendrik cupped his cheek. His gaze lingered on Dagan’s lips as he said, “So, you won’t lose your job if I kiss you?”
“As of thirty minutes ago, no.” Dagan leaned closer. “So long as you’re sure it’s really all the things you just said, and not some misplaced sense of loyalty or debt you need to repay.”
“It’s really all the things I just said,” Hendrik replied, eyes solemn and voice grave. “I do feel loyalty, it’s true. But it’s because of who you are, not what you did.”
“Then please, kiss me.”
Hendrik did, slipping an arm around Dagan’s neck and tilting his head. His breath was warm and sweet, the scent of his soap and skin intoxicating. The first time Dagan had laid eyes on Hen, he’d known that somewhere in there was something he could reach, though it had been buried beneath layers of pain and fear. And he’d known that, given the opportunity, Hendrik would want him at least once. If people could be relied on for anything, it was to be horny in Dagan’s presence.
He just hadn’t known it could happen this fast. It would’ve been so, so easy to give in to the sweet, delicious sensation of lips sliding against his, Hendrik’s tongue darting into his mouth, Hendrik’s hand brushing down his back. Dagan knew what he wanted, and now that he knew Hendrik wanted it, too, he could have it.
But it was more complicated than that. So as Dagan closed off the kiss, he let his eyes flutter open to catch Hen’s gaze. Hen’s mouth hung slightly open, lips pink and pretty, those lightning-blue eyes wide as if in surprise.
Dagan asked, quietly, “Was that alright?”
“Perfect,” Hen whispered. “I dreamed of it. Of you. Like this.”
Dagan traced Hendrik’s exquisite jawline with the pad of his thumb, watching him carefully. “Tell me.”
“We sat on your blanket and kissed like this, but like we’d done it a million times before.” Hen’s warm breath puffed against Dagan’s wet lips as he spoke, now.
Dagan traced Hen’s ear, now, then the fringe of freshly cut hair over it. “Were we bored with it?”
Hen shook his head tightly. “Well, I wasn’t. I couldn’t get enough. After I woke up, I thought about it all day. How it felt.”
“That isn’t why you’ve been so distracted, surely?”
Hen nodded. “I felt guilty for a little while. About thinking about it. About feeling so good, wanting to feel so good. The world’s falling apart.”
“All the more reason to allow yourself something good.” Dagan kissed the tip of Hen’s nose. He had never been prouder of himself, happier to have someone dream of him, than he was right here and now. “But I understand. Don’t rush yourself, darling. I’ve got you.”
“Do you want me, Dagan?” The question quavered in the few inches between them, delicate as a hummingbird.
“You must know I do. Almost from the moment we met.” Dagan leaned his forehead against Hen’s, his forearms on Hen’s thighs. “But I thought it might be something for the distant future. Not for today.”
“And if I want it today?”
“It’s yours,” Dagan whispered, throat raw. “But again, I beg you, don’t rush yourself. For both our sakes. I couldn’t bear being a mistake. Not for you.”
He hadn’t realized that feeling was there until it popped out of his mouth. There it was, sharp and jagged but still heart-shaped. He’d made many mistakes. He’d been many mistakes. But for Hendrik, still broken-hearted and lost, to think of him as such would be too much even for his slutty little heart.
“You couldn’t be.” Hen tilted again, mouth finding Dagan’s once more. It went deeper this time, and he reached down for Dagan’s hips, pulling him upward.
Dagan came gladly, crawling into Hen’s lap so he straddled it, legs wrapped loosely around Hendrik’s middle, ass firmly planted on Hen’s thick thighs. He didn’t scoot all the way forward, didn’t try to angle against Hen’s prick or get any pressure on his own. He just kissed him, ruffling his hair and exploring his mouth for long, lingering moments. Hen kept hold of his hips at first, fingers warm and searching as they slipped beneath his shirt to press into his waist.
“You feel so good,” Hendrik muttered against his lips. “Better than the dream, even.”
Overwhelmed by this pronouncement, Dagan kissed him again, sucking gently when Hen’s tongue was offered. The kiss lasted even longer, this time, the slick sensation sending a jolt of heat through Dagan’s body and directly into his prick. Hendrik’s hands roamed upward beneath his shirt, appreciative, but quick. As if Dagan might disappear soon.
Hendrik closed off that kiss and brushed his lips against Dagan’s jaw. Then his neck, that sweet spot just beneath his ear. He sucked, then licked at the spot, and Dagan shivered in his arms.
“You taste good, too.” Hendrik smiled against his throat, kissed it once more, then looked up. “Is this okay?”
“It’s divine,” Dagan assured him with a low, breathy chuckle. “I’m happy to follow your lead, darling.”
Hendrik smiled, all the sweeter for his lips being extra pink and puffy. “I just want to kiss you. Hold you. For a while.”
“I can’t think of anything I’d like more.”
“Well, I can think of a few things.” Hendrik’s grin turned positively wicked. “But it’s a good place to start, anyhow.”
As Dagan laughed, Hendrik wrapped both arms around him and pulled him forward, so the inside of Dagan’s thighs pressed tight into his middle. Dagan bit down to keep from groaning at the sudden pressure against his swollen cock, held fast against his leg and Hendrik’s hip.
“Okay?” Hendrik whispered.
“Perfect,” Dagan assured him, rubbing his nose against Hen’s and giving a little hum of approval.
Hendrik tilted his face once more, and this time they kissed hard and fast enough that the edges of their teeth bit into lips briefly. Dagan huffed as the lick of pain registered in his prick as pleasure, and Hendrik smiled into his mouth as if he knew.
And then, someone knocked on the door.
Hendrik groaned and pressed his forehead into Dagan’s.
Dagan turned his face toward the door and yelled, “Go away!” with his voice an octave lower than usual.
“Sorry, Dags, but there’s some refugees on the way from Oak Grove,” came Innan’s voice from outside. “They’re coming to see the Council now.”
“We’ll see them later!” he all-but-whined.
Hendrik gave a deep sigh of resignation, though.
They replied, “Your call, but they want you now!”
Dagan buried his face in Hen’s neck, palms flat against his chest. He was so looking forward to feeling these tits up, too. “Ugh.”
“You’re sure Innan isn’t interested in you? Because their timing really needs work.” Hendrik laughed breathlessly.
“Fuck,” Dagan said decisively, pushing himself off Hendrik’s chest enough to look him in the eye. “We should go. Just…fuck.”
Hendrik cupped the back of Dagan’s head and pulled him forward, kissing him one more time with an intensity that had not suffered in the least from the interruption. Dagan shivered again as Hen stroked his hair, all the way down his braid. He allowed himself to be kissed completely senseless, though it wasn’t doing his prick any favors, and took just one long, beautiful, perfect moment to appreciate the way this felt. The urgency and curiosity in Hendrik that precisely mirrored his own.
But as they pulled themselves apart, laughing a little shyly, smiling secretly, it was the words Dagan kept going back to, in his mind. Hendrik’s seductive words, calling him beautiful for all the things he struggled to love about himself.
Chapter 2: Wildcrafter Settlement, Heart Wood
“Not to be rude,” Dagan snapped, of course fully intending to be rude, “but I was about to spend a lovely evening making out with that beautiful man, and I’m not happy about the interruption.”
They sat in the busy winery hall, on the far side of the screen. The Council had called Hendrik in first, alone, and he’d gone with a wary look in Dagan’s direction.
Innan’s gingery eyebrows were high. “You haven’t already? I assumed you’d fucked his brains out at least once or twice.”
“No!” Dagan accepted a cup of cider from a server, hoping it was strong, and shot Innan what he hoped was a withering look. “I was escorting him!”
“Oh, right. I forgot about that. Thanks,” they told the serving girl. “Sorry, just, the way he was looking at you, it seemed like he’d already had you and was thirsty for more.”
Suddenly Dagan was slightly less irritated, if no less horny. “Really?”
Innan chuckled into their cider. “I’ve seen the look before. Many times.”
“No.” Dagan shook his head, because that wasn’t right, exactly. “I mean, yes, of course. But he’s—” He huffed, looking for a way to explain. “He seduced me! With words!”
Innan blinked rapidly, their gold-and-orange eyelashes like the wings of some tiny butterfly. “What did he say?”
“That basically everything I think is terrible about me makes him like me. Except he said it very poetically, and I wish I’d written it down, but I was too busy crawling into his lap.”
“Damnation.” Innan looked surprised, glancing at the screened-off part of the hall as if they might see something through it. “He doesn’t seem all that perceptive. Or poetic.”
Dagan sighed. Of course, Innan would understand. They might not be perpetually horny like him, but they were decidedly romantic in the right circumstances. “I know.” Dagan took another drink, trying not to pout and probably failing.
Innan nodded thoughtfully. “Beautiful eyes, though.”
“Sweet forest gods, I know.” Dagan sighed once more, this time just for dramatic effect, and leaned his shoulder against Innan’s. “We’ll take it slow. As slow as he needs. But it was going so well…”
“Slow?” Innan cocked their head curiously.
“It’s not my story to tell.” Dagan chewed at his bottom lip for a moment. He could still taste Hendrik, if he thought hard enough. “But our refugee has a broken heart.”
“If he’s seducing you with words, he must be healing,” Innan suggested. “I’m proud of you.”
“Oh? Not judging me for having another pretty hanger-on?” Dagan smirked.
Innan flushed. “I did think it was something like that. I’m sorry, Dags. I just—he’s very good-looking, and he’s our age, and the way he looks at you…”
Dagan bumped them with his shoulder again. “You’re forgiven. For that part, anyhow. For interrupting us, not so much.”
“Very fair of you.” Innan smiled. “Do you want to talk about it? About you and him?”
“I didn’t think there was a me and him,” Dagan admitted. “Not until a half hour ago, anyhow. I thought maybe someday we’d meet up again, when I was a capable scout and he wasn’t so in love with ghost. But then, today, he surprised me.”
“How does it feel? When you’re alone with him?”
“Exciting. But also strangely comfortable.”
“You don’t have to perform?”
Dagan shook his head. “I suppose I did a little at first. But he hadn’t spoken to another living creature in moons, so I focused on reassuring him rather than charming him. It was pure, dumb luck. He sees right through the charm, you know.”
“He is smarter than he looks.”
“It’s unfair, isn’t it? To be that handsome and that smart all at once?”
Innan laughed. “Maybe this is what you both need to—”
“Innan?” Jessica poked her head around the screen. “Dagan, you should come too.”
“About time,” Dagan mumbled, though he made sure Jessica couldn’t see his face when he did. As they stood to join the Council, several new faces entered the hall, carrying travel packs as if they’d just come off the path. They made for the back room, as well. The refugees from Oak Grove, almost certainly.
At least he’d get to meet them, too. Dagan rounded the screen, Innan on his heels, and Hendrik looked up from a seat at the Council table. He smiled and looked slightly relieved, and Dagan tried to look reassuring.
Then, Hendrik’s gaze traveled over his shoulder, and his beautiful eyes went wide. As Dagan turned to see who it was, Hendrik said: “Piret?” And then, louder and more urgently, “Kajja?”
And within moments, he blew past Dagan to catch a flying girl in his arms.
The first thing Dagan noticed, when he caught a glimpse of her small, heart-shaped face, was that she had the exact same lightning-blue eyes as Hendrik.
Interlude: A Sister’s Story
As told in the winery hall of the Wildcrafter Settlement of the Heart Wood, on the fifth night of the Grain Moon Waxing in the Year of the Butterflies
After Kass and the others inherited, we expected a visit from you, Hen. When you didn’t show a few days after the full moon, Alara decided you were taken up with some important priest guard business, or that’s what she told all the neighbors. Konstantin and I knew something was wrong, though we didn’t talk about it. You know those looks he gives, though, when he gets all lost in thought. I started walking up to the High City, looking for you or someone who knew where you were. I brought flowers and offerings to the See for Kass and Lyla. Well, that’s what I said, anyhow. Really, I was looking for you.
A friend of mine wanted to see the Red Lantern, even though we can’t really afford it without a guard for clout. So, we sneaked out and into the Tavern District, and—remember that little stall where we had the firewater before we went to the Lantern? That’s where I saw Piret! She looked rough—sorry, but you really did. No, I mean really, like you’d been drinking for a week straight. Sorry, but it’s true.
Anyhow, Piret shook it off enough to get us into the Lantern, and I introduced my friend to Leandro. And while they were off doing what Leandro does, Piret introduced me to Jak. He’s resistance, Hen! Can you believe it? They both told me about Sister Eva and what happened the day of the inheritance. I’m so, so sorry, Hen, it’s devastating, I know. I was even sadder, then, because I knew something bad had happened, but now I felt like you had to be dead. The last time Piret saw you, you went charging after those priests down the tunnel. She and Sister Eva turned back—I’m getting there, Piret! Piret wanted to go after you, but Sister Eva convinced her that was disordered, which, to be fair, it really was, Hen. What were you thinking?
Actually, no, never mind, I know what you were thinking. We’ll talk about how I was right, later.
So, the next day, Sister Eva introduced her to all the resistance people. Oh, right, the resistance! It’s an underground network of people in the City who are carefully, quietly fighting to free us of the tyranny of the See—officially, anyhow. But we all know there’s something else, something even more sinister behind the See, and that you and Piret saw evidence of that when you saw what it did to Kass and Lyla. There are a lot of wild ideas about what it is, but Sister Eva said it’s a dark being who’d been there since the time of the Founder, and who’d kept the City safe but through terrible means.
