A Suitable Bodyguard, page 10
Fifteen, Zelli thought, sagging against the side of the bed. Zelli had been only two years older than that when Tahlen had come to their fortress. Tahlen might dislike beat-of-fours, might dislike Zelli, yet he still wanted better for Zelli, because Tahlen had lived it and it must have hurt.
“I would have known you better,” he told Tahlen, angry and then sad and exhausted. “Even if I didn’t understand, I would have known you better. Always, I cause you harm, when you’ve already felt too much. I wish I could understand you, but I suppose I never will.”
The room swayed. Zelli dropped the necklace in his hands and shook his head, trying to clear it of dizziness. He hadn’t thought he’d had that much wine, but he must have, first yelling at no one and now sick and unsteady on his feet.
He went to the stand and mirror to leave the rowan tree necklace someplace safe, and caught sight of himself: the fine silver links now twisted, his mouth red from wine, hair that had begun to wriggle free sometime in the past few hours. Barely a beat-of-four and he had teased Tahlen that Tahlen had more noble bearing than him.
The room swayed again, so Zelli turned and climbed onto the bed. He buried his head under the pillows without regard for his braids or hair clasps and tried to let the dark, muffled quiet soothe him.
He bit the pillow when he could not get his heart to calm and his chest seemed a yawning, cavernous thing. He shredded the pillow’s cover with his teeth and presented the destroyed fabric to Stern Sar in the morning with deeply embarrassed apologies and what was left of his money.
He did not explain.
Thankfully, she didn’t ask him to.
Seven
He and Tahlen were on their way before the sun could peek through the morning fog. They had not exchanged many words, and for once, that was not due to Tahlen. Tahlen, upon coming to wake Zelli and finding him ready to go, his cloak fastened, his hair in two messy braids, had started to say something. Zelli had politely told him there was no need to speak of the night before, aimed a smile in the direction of Tahlen’s collarbone, and then swept past him, his pack hanging from his arm.
Most of the village residents had been still abed as he and Tahlen had left. Zelli had kept Lemon Blossom behind Tahlen and Starfall and slumped down, partly due to the cold, and partly because he was tired after his restless night.
He wanted a bath, a real one, to settle his nerves and make him less aware of how wrong he felt this morning. He supposed that was the consequence of hurting someone he cared about. Guilt or sorrow had him weary and nearly itching with discomfort. A hot bath would have done much.
And a change of clothes, and hiding from Tahlen for at least a week, and perhaps some food. But none of Mayor Sar’s offerings of pastry or tea had appealed, so Zelli had not eaten. He assumed Tahlen had. Tahlen was not unbothered, only pretending to be, but he was sensible and practical and probably knew what it was to be weak with hunger, so he would eat no matter what he felt, Zelli was sure.
Zelli also had not appreciated Tahlen’s worried second glance upon first seeing him. Zelli was aware he was a wreck this morning. He would thank Tahlen not to mention it, just as Zelli had not asked about Tahlen’s evening or if he’d been sorry to say farewell to anyone in particular. Not even when Tahlen had knelt down again to help Zelli onto Lemon Blossom though Mayor Sar, her stable hand, and Bree had been right there, or when Tahlen had hovered near him in concern to see Zelli’s hands trembling.
Zelli should have thanked him and given him more time to go trade kisses with the probably understanding Kat Ryssa.
He pulled in a long breath, held it, then let it out.
Tahlen twisted around to give him a look.
Zelli directed his eyes elsewhere.
By midday, Zelli had his hood up to conceal his face from anyone working in the fields who might look to the road, and also from Tahlen. Grandmother might have implied he was sulking, but Zelli was tired and didn’t feel like talking, that was all.
Anyway, Tahlen got to behave this way all the time. No reason Zelli couldn’t.
“Would you like something to eat?” Tahlen had asked a while ago, when the fog had been reduced to wisps along the ground and a few clouds in the sky.
“No. But thank you.” Zelli’s answer had earned him one of Tahlen’s little exhales of irritation.
Zelli did not care. He should not care, it was perhaps better to say. Tahlen did not want him to care, so he would not.
He sank down miserably and scratched at his arms, at his neck, through his clothes and cloak. A long, hot bath, that’s what he needed. And tea. And news that a powerful but peaceful beat-of-four family had a son about his age, who would love to tie himself to a short, wild creature with no manners, a tendency to sulk, and feelings he could not contain.
“Zelli,” Tahlen tried again when the sun was getting high, “would you like something to eat?”
Zelli blinked, then raised his head to hear Tahlen’s voice so close. Tahlen rode alongside him, observing Zelli intently. Whatever he saw, he obviously did not like, because he pulled back, then steered Starfall off the road to a stand of scrubby trees.
Since it was leave him there or join him, Zelli followed, sliding clumsily from Lemon Blossom when it was clear Tahlen had no intention of getting back to the road. “What are you doing?”
Tahlen pulled a cloth bundle from one of his packs and handed the whole thing to Zelli before turning away. “It’s good to walk for a bit.”
Zelli decided to ignore that true, if strange coming from Tahlen, sentiment in favor of opening the cloth bundle. It was full of spiced biscuits, the kind he’d eaten with relish the day before.
Zelli hadn’t thought to add to their supply of provisions, but Tahlen had. Zelli really was in Tahlen’s way. He could have sent Tahlen out here by himself and Tahlen would have learned everything by now. Not that Zelli would ever have sent Tahlen on his own.
His cheeks were hot. Maybe his itchiness was illness. Wouldn’t that be just like Zelli? Finally get a chance to have a small adventure and be useful, only to immediately get sick.
Zelli looked up. “I am not ungrateful. But it’s not your duty to ensure I eat.”
Tahlen held an apple, which he spun in one hand even while giving Zelli a piercing study. “No. But I usually wouldn’t have to. If this is about your nerves and what your grandmother might say, I thought you did well.”
“You do?” Zelli’s disbelief made Tahlen draw his brows together.
Even Tahlen’s frown was rather beautiful, although he had shadows beneath his eyes. “Why is that so surprising?”
Zelli quickly shook his head. “I didn’t mean to suggest that you could not have opinions as a guard. You are Grandmother’s guard and she values your opinions—highly. I’m sure she would even if she didn’t know… your family name.” He finished with a stumble, cross with himself for mentioning it.
But Tahlen’s brow smoothed and then he sighed. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way last night.”
“Why?” Zelli wondered, staring moodily at the biscuits. “Because you are a guard and I am a beat-of-four? I am a beat-of-four. That is about all I am. You needn’t apologize. I’m the one who needs reminding that you are not my friend and don’t want to be, and I shouldn’t have questioned you. I’m sorry for that and for whatever someone said or did that hurt you so deeply that it still pains you.”
“Zelli,” Tahlen said hoarsely, “are you apologizing for others now too?”
Zelli looked up. “I can be sorry without apologizing for someone else.” The people who had hurt Tahlen and Esrin did not deserve Zelli’s apologies. “Having people act as though your family’s loss meant nothing is not the same as having people afraid of you and what your wild blood might do, but when I say even noble blood only goes so far with some, you know precisely what I mean, though I’d rather you didn’t. I’m sorry you were treated badly. That’s all I meant to say last night.”
Tahlen stared at him, then turned away. “It taught me things, anyway.”
“I imagine it did. Were you like this before?” Zelli gave a start. “Forget I asked that. I’m not prying. I’m eating.” He marched over to a small fallen tree and sat before shoving a biscuit into his mouth.
Tahlen studied him, eyes narrowed. “What is it that I am like now?”
“Watchful. Silent. Impossible to read.” Zelli hoped his crunching sounds drowned out most of the words.
“It’s my job to be watchful,” Tahlen insisted, truly scowling now, although Zelli didn’t call attention to it. “You’d have to ask Esrin about how I used to be.” He was still holding the apple, although he was no longer spinning it. He inhaled and exhaled and made his scowl vanish, only for a fraction of it to sneak back onto his face anyway. “I was not a fighter, not seriously. Not beyond the usual lessons.”
That veered dangerously close to their conversation last night.
Zelli nonetheless considered the information he had been given, and Tahlen at age fifteen. Tahlen certainly did not seem to have problems charming people now when he wanted to. But Zelli didn’t want to think of him as a young flirt chasing after potential bed partners. “Were you more into hunting and the like? Or were you a scholar perhaps?”
Tahlen’s eyebrows flitted up. His answer was slow, like someone dredging up a distant memory. “I did favor the histories, a little.”
That was more to consider, and more reason for Tahlen to despair of Zelli, who bothered with the histories only when forced. “Is that how you know to advise Grandmother?”
Tahlen had the gall to dismiss his contributions. “It’s only advice.”
“Good advice.” Zelli huffed before realizing that Grandmother had likely also consulted Tahlen about her plans for Zelli’s future, possibly even before she’d brought it up to Zelli. “Did you…? Do you have thoughts on my impending alliance?”
“I have thoughts,” Tahlen told the apple before shoving it back into the pack, uneaten, “but not your grandmother’s ear. Not on that. You still don’t eat. You don’t like the biscuits?”
Zelli dutifully had another biscuit, although the one felt like more than enough. He forced himself to swallow, then tried to convince himself to eat more. His mouth was too dry. So was his skin. He twitched with a thousand little itches that vanished before he could scratch them, not that scratching would ease anything.
He must be getting sick, though he didn’t recognize the illness. With the long night and then the stinging in his blood, it almost felt like the early stages of his….
Zelli quickly dropped his gaze to his lap so Tahlen wouldn’t read panic in his expression. He tried to remember experiencing any other symptoms of his lust-fever or his changing problem. But other than some intimate thoughts brought on by Tahlen’s proximity, Zelli didn’t think he was feeling more aroused than usual. He wasn’t restless and craving something he couldn’t identify. And the changing problem usually began while Zelli was asleep.
But if it wasn’t those, then what was it? Normal illness, or some new fae complication?
Tahlen came closer, scarcely making a sound, and bent down to take a biscuit, which he stood up to eat. “They taste fine to me,” he mumbled, then bent again to hand one to Zelli before gently taking the bundle from him.
His fingers brushed Zelli’s, an accidental touch almost certainly.
Yet it was the fire in Zelli’s bedroom fireplace in the depths of wintertime, and a cup of lavender and lemon drink cooled by ice from the mountains in the summer. It was honey in his tea and sweet-smelling balm to soothe the stinging nettles scraping across his flesh.
Zelli snatched his hand to his chest and gazed up, panting, into Tahlen’s frozen look of concern.
“What’s wrong?”
“I would rather you had the biscuit,” Zelli pronounced carefully, then held out the biscuit in question. He did not tremble when their hands touched again, or melt at Tahlen’s feet, or curl against him in grateful relief. He did not, but it was a near thing.
Zelli bit his tongue so he would not moan, then closed his eyes.
The wrongness went away when Tahlen touched him. That was… that was not a good sign. If this was a new fae complication, or a development in one of his existing ones, he really wished his fae relations would have bothered to warn him of it.
He wished….
Zelli had made a wish last night.
“I didn’t realize anyone was listening!” he complained fretfully.
“What?” Tahlen asked.
Zelli’s eyes flew open. “Oh, no.” He had only just gotten Tahlen to not actively dislike him and now he’d done something to make the fae do this to him.
“Are you feeling all right?” Tahlen looked as if he might check Zelli for fever that very moment.
Zelli wanted the touch of Tahlen’s hand more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. Beneath his clothes, he burned.
He jumped to his feet. “We should get going!” he announced while moving toward Lemon Blossom and frantically trying to think of ways to escape the help from the fae that he had not asked for. This was not what he’d meant.
But the fae answered how they would and there was little Zelli could do about it now. He had to think of something to offer the fae that would make them understand this sort of assistance would only make Tahlen more distant, not bring them closer.
Zelli just hoped he could bear it until that happened or they returned home and he could ask Grandmother what he ought to do.
He led Lemon Blossom to the fallen tree so he could use that as a mounting block, not wanting to even risk Tahlen’s touch on his boot, and hurried back to the road, leaving Tahlen to follow.
They reached a waystation not long after that. Tahlen gave Zelli another suspicious study when Zelli suggested they pass it without stopping. Since Zelli’s original plans had been to reach at least this waystation, and now he had not truly eaten as well and could use checking over the waystation as an excuse to stop, Tahlen was right to be suspicious.
It didn’t help that Tahlen had caught Zelli gnawing at the cord to his necklace. In another time, Zelli might have been delighted to witness Tahlen clearly holding back his questions. But all it meant was that when Zelli tried to avoid stopping, Tahlen said, “I’m hungry,” and stopped at the waystation anyway.
Whether or not Tahlen was actually hungry was hardly the point; Zelli wasn’t going to keep him from eating and Tahlen knew it.
He dug out a small metal cup from one of the packs and brought Zelli water the moment Zelli was on his feet. “You’re flushed,” Tahlen said shortly, and stood there, being resolute and armed and taller than Zelli, until Zelli drank it.
Zelli gazed up at him but had no idea what to say. Tahlen was in a mood, as Nya would have described it, and it couldn’t have all been because Zelli wasn’t eating.
When Zelli didn’t speak, Tahlen eventually took the cup and went over to Starfall to replace it and to return with one of the apples. He offered it to Zelli with a stare that said Grandmother was going to hear everything about this if Zelli wasn’t careful.
Zelli raised his hands so Tahlen could drop the apple into his palms.
The tic in Tahlen’s jaw returned. “Do you think I’m going to…?” He cut himself off and shook his head. “You can chew an apple just as well as your necklace. Better, even, some might say.”
Zelli gave Tahlen a glower for that, then lowered his glower to the apple itself. “It isn’t that I’m not hungry,” he began tentatively, “it’s that I don’t feel well enough to want to eat.”
“You are sick.” Tahlen snatched the apple from Zelli’s hands and stepped in closer all in one movement, so Zelli was too stunned to react in time when Tahlen put the inside of his wrist to Zelli’s forehead.
The sound that tore from Zelli, a rising gasp of pleasure that slid into a sigh of relief, made them both freeze.
Zelli stumbled back too late, tripping and landing painfully on his ass, where he stayed for a few stunned moments, wheezing.
Tahlen, out of habit, out of manners or concern, leaned down to tug Zelli back to his feet. The absence of itching at the strong clasp of Tahlen’s hand had Zelli shuddering and closing his eyes. He tripped on Tahlen’s boots instead of standing upright, squashing his face against a mail-covered chest.
Tahlen’s arms came up to steady him, hot as embers through Zelli’s cloak and shirts. Embers that warmed yet did not cause pain.
Zelli kept his eyes shut and swallowed the breathless noises that continued to spill from him. With more care, he pushed himself out of Tahlen’s arms.
Discomfort began to crawl through his skin again almost immediately.
“I’m sorry,” Zelli apologized feverishly, then tried to take another step back.
Something strong kept him from moving. He opened his eyes and found Tahlen holding him by a fistful of his cloak.
“You’ll trip again,” Tahlen warned him before letting go. He had color along his cheekbones. His eyes were wide. But he shut his mouth and stood there, his chest heaving for several moments more.
Zelli suspected his chest was doing much the same. “I’m sorry,” he said again, “I didn’t know they were listening. I know better, and I still…. They shouldn’t have involved you!”
“Zelli.” Tahlen stopped him. They both took another moment, Zelli to try to think of an explanation that wasn’t embarrassing. Tahlen… probably to compose himself after Zelli had moaned at him. “Zelli,” Tahlen said again at last, almost pleading.
“Fae blood!” Zelli blurted. “It does things. Attracts attention, I think.”
“What does that mean? Not in general.” Tahlen raised his head and crossed his arms. “What does that mean for you right now?”
Zelli hunched his shoulders and glanced away. “It shows up in different ways. Not strongly in most of my family. I mean, considering the generations since the original fae, uh, couplings happened, I’m surprised it still manifests at all. But that’s the fae for you.” Zelli paused, then raised his voice to a near shout in case they were listening again. “Bless them!” He cleared his throat, then returned to a normal speaking voice. “But the fae traits linger. Unusual hair or eye colors. Odd teeth. Sometimes, er, other physical conditions. And they listen to us, allegedly, more than they listen to others.”
