PART I | Chapter X
1:10 | Come Whatever
The grass is soft underfoot—warm with sunshine and fresh after the rain—and bare toes curl into it, feeling the playful tickle of it along bare skin. “Baisyl!” Little brother comes into view, cheeks pink from running and hair tousled. “Baisyl, Baisyl…father says…father says you have to…” He’s out of breath. Already six years old and he still can’t run up a hill? A snort. “Says I have to what?” “He wishes to speak with you, my Lucerik,” another voice joins in, this one smoother, like ice melt; like poison, and two eyes sharper than rogues’ knives smile, “…but he will only tell you to run…” The grass is no longer soft underfoot, but hot, and dry—choking, dying—and breath is hard to come by. Why is mother here? When did she get here? What does she want? What did father do? The ground is tricky underfoot; retreat is impossible. “I heard you like magic, my dearest? Why don’t you show mommy what you can do…” No, no, no, no—why? Abruptly, there is a torrent of burning rain, the world spins, and-
…
Baisyl jolted upright, his heart throbbing in his chest, though he couldn’t recall what from, and he swallowed hard, bringing a hand to his neck where his pulse still beat alarmingly hard, and then to his face, blinking rapidly to clear his vision.
Where…?
A soft, white-yellow sunlight filled the room: spilling over stalls, sneaking through wooden beams in the ceiling, and painting the otherwise meager surroundings in a warm, tenuous light. The smell of hay, polish, and leather permeated the air, and outside, a gentle titter of rain sounded quietly, along with the dulled, more distant sound of voices above him and across from him in the opposite direction.
Below him, something prickled at Baisyl’s skin as he shifted, drawing his attention downward and highlighting the fact that-
He was sitting on hay.
Baisyl frowned. This new revelation in mind, he realized his “blanket,” too, was but a horse’s riding sheet, and with that, it clicked that yes, he—a noble by birth and a partial snob by choice—was, in fact, laying in a
stable. He groaned, flopping back onto the hay with a scowl to the ceiling and shoving a hand from his forehead back through his hair—and back, and back, and-
Of…course.
He scrunched his eyes shut. Lovely. Now, he had hay tangled into
all three and half feet of his hair. Then again, it beat waking up bound, on hardwood, with a rapist looming over him. He snorted. Funny, how perspectives changed. Then, eyes shut and stomach to the ceiling, the sound of rain re-registered, and he blinked his eyes back open.
The second time, he inspected the area with a different air of curiosity. As he suspected, though: himself excluded, the room was empty. With purpose this time, Baisyl pushed to a sitting position, wriggled his bare toes into the hay at his feet, and—deeming his body suitably functional—he stood. When a chill swept him, he folded his arms over his chest, absently pulling his now ill-fitting vest slightly tighter over his front as he moved for the closest visible exit.
The door opened with a gentle push, revealing a wet, sloppy mud path, several sad patches of what was probably dead grass to either side, and a dingy alley that apparently lead to a connected village on one side and open land for some ways on the other. Baisyl, trying not to think overly much about
what all might be mixed into the dirtied water on the ground, stepped out, moving gingerly into the falling rain and shutting his eyes as the familiar, welcome sensation of magic melting away swept him.
A quiet sound of something other than raindrops falling prompted him to open his eyes, and he smiled as a last few bits of hay tittered to the ground around his ankles—those bits previously tangled in the long locks that now didn’t exist, he suspected. Then-
“Oh, good, it is the rain.”
Baisyl prided himself in not jumping this time (which would almost surely have resulted only in him splattering himself with mud and otherwise making nothing but an embarrassing mess of things), and he even successfully resisted the urge to turn a glare on his guard for once
again refusing to approach with some human amount of noise level.
“I’m sorry…” Kedean spoke from just several feet away now, “…did I startle you?”
Baisyl glanced behind him and to the side, where his guard stood, propping himself against the door frame opposite him, and at length, Baisyl shook his head, quipping, “Not in the least.” Wet enough and chilled now, he stepped back into the safety of the stable. “You’ll have to try harder next time.”
Kedean looked up, brown eyes meeting Baisyl’s with what he recognized now as a spark of amusement. “Alright,” he agreed amiably, his lips quirking up in a single corner, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Baisyl blinked. “I wasn’t seri-”
“It
is the rain, isn’t it?”
Baisyl glanced down, over his own figure, and Kedean continued.
“You were a woman last night in the ship’s cell with me, a man when the storm hit, a man when I brought you in soaked to this inn, again a woman when I woke up this morning, and are a man now, after stepping outside. I assume it’s a spell?”
Baisyl cleared his throat. “Ah…yes,” he said, and turned his eyes back out, to the alley and the mud. “Yes, it is…and it is the rain that breaks it.”
“So…” Kedean hesitated a moment, “…forgive me for the…crudeness…milord…but you
are a man?”
Baisyl looked back, eyeing his guard. Eventually, he shrugged, nodding. “Yes, I would say so. I was born a man, I lived the huge majority of my life that way, and I certainly feel more comfortable as one. Despite my frequent possession of one as of late, a cunt continues to be an unwanted addition to my physique…” He tilted his head, noting Kedean’s pursed lips with interest, but continuing on. “When I’m wet with rain, the curse is temporarily lifted. As soon as I dry…” He made a sweeping motion over his figure, “…I lose my pri-” At Kedean’s look, he notched up an eyebrow and amended, “-ability to produce sperm. Should I watch my tongue around you, for your comfort?”
Kedean cleared his throat and shook his head, responding, “No, milord. It is only that your continued knack for being so simultaneously sharp and blunt is…”
“Unsettling?”
Kedean waited a moment. Then, he said, “One would think the two would cancel each other out, is all…” and Baisyl snorted.
“One would think,” he agreed. Then, abruptly, figuring there was no better time than the present, he asked, “Why did you jump after me?”
Kedean looked up, eyeing him carefully, as if deciphering a puzzle or breaking down some complex code.
“At first,” he said finally, “I thought you’d shot yourself. When I realized you hadn’t…and that you were still alive, but drowning, I…” Again, he hesitated, as if sifting and winnowing through his words, and before he spoke further, he shook his head. “Perhaps you should ask me again, later,” he said, eyes to the outside, “…when I’ve had more time to think about it. You were right…it was impossibly foolish. It’s a miracle we lived.”
“You regret it, then?” Baisyl asked curious, and Kedean glanced up.
“Well, no…” He met his eyes dead on, “…not yet.”
Baisyl opened his mouth, but on realizing that he knew not yet what to say and feeling an unwelcome flow of heat to his cheeks he shut it again and turned away. He
looked like a woman often enough; no need to blush or heaven forbid giggle like one, too.
“I did consider it,” he said at length, both to keep up the conversation flow and distract from the warmth in his face, “…shooting myself, that is,” he clarified, “…but I suppose…” He paused to consider for a moment, eyes on the steadily tumbling stream of water just outside, “…contrary to what you must believe by this point, I honestly don’t
want to die…it has merely seemed, time and again as of late, to be the only alternative to something far worse.”
He reached a hand out, cupping it and letting water pool till ran over before opening his fingers again, letting the water fall through, and drawing back; the coolness tingled, raising goosebumps along his flesh.
“It also occurred to me that there might be some…small, ghost of a chance that you’d follow if you saw fit, but…I didn’t think it likely.” He shrugged. “Call it cold feet…and the inability to pull the trigger on myself so quickly, if you like.”
“And the man beside me?” Kedean asked. “You just…felt like shooting something else instead, for good measure?”
“Mm? Oh…” When comprehension dawned, Baisyl shook his head, “…no. I—well, perhaps some of that,” he admitted, “but largely, no. That man put his hands on me, earlier,” he explained, and when Kedean’s eyebrows rose, he clarified, “…when I still appeared to be a woman. I didn’t figure the action merited a bullet to the head, but I was in rather foul spirits, so…I felt I was justified in exacting at least some degree of retribution before I met my end.”
“I see…and the other man who had an ‘issue’ watching over you?”
“He tried to force his way with me,” Baisyl said flatly, and Kedean opened his mouth, “…so I killed him.” He shut it again. “Anything else?” Baisyl asked, gaze as hard and flat as his words.
“Ah…” Kedean cleared his throat, “…yes, actually,” he said, though not without a tinge of reluctance. “About what was said on deck, and what I heard before while you were asleep…the fact that the captain seems to think you’re-”
“A dragon?” Baisyl finished for him. “The…‘woman’—a term I use very lightly in this instance—who birthed me…” he said when Kedean nodded, “is…part dragon.”
“Part?” Kedean repeated.
“Yes, part,” Baisyl clipped, and Kedean held his words. “I inherited my magic from her, what little that I have, as well as a nearly insignificant amount of dragon blood which allows me to maintain a slightly higher resting body temperature than most humans, in addition to generating it faster…which is how I managed live through sharing as much of mine with you as I did, in case you were wondering. But nothing else. I don’t sprout wings, I don’t hibernate, I don’t seek a mate, and I
don't go into heat. As far as I know, my father is completely human, and I was raised by him; I rarely saw my birth mother, even as a child, and never, once I grew older. She wasn’t a noteworthy part of my life until…very recently.”
“Why now?” Kedean asked, sounding genuinely curious, and though it wasn’t a favored topic in Baisyl’s mind, he figured he owed the man some answers, at least.
“That part I am…not perfectly clear on myself,” he thus admitted, with some reluctance. “I care little for human politics, and less so for those of other races, and thus never bothered with the affairs of magic-folk in the least. Unfortunately…that ignorance has been coming back to haunt me. From what little I have heard, I believe it’s safe to assume that there is some sort of shift in power going on high up in the circles of dragon mages, and it would seem that my mother is…a prominent enough figure among them to be involved in that shift, or at least have some stake in it.”
“And this effects you…?” Kedean prompted.
Baisyl pursed his lips, mind mulling over the details he knew of. “Other races…the fey in particular—I don’t believe elves meddle much in the affairs of anyone but themselves—are either vying for power or, more likely, taking advantage of the fact that powerful dragons are doing just that, and can thus more easily be turned against each other at this stage. I’m sure it’s no secret to you that more than one race would rest easier if dragons no longer lived among us…”
“That’s the war you spoke of?” Kedean guessed. “Something that the fairy captain that we dealt with, or whoever she’s working for, would want to start amongst dragons themselves?”
Baisyl shrugged. “It hasn’t started yet, and mind…I’m only saying it’s possible. Everything I’ve mentioned thus far is guesswork I’ve done, and my own conclusions based on pitifully limited information. Frank as I may be, there is still ample room for misguidance, given that I know very few facts.”
Kedean mimicked Baisyl’s frown. “But…the fact remains that
someone wants to kill you?”
“Apparently so,” Baisyl concurred, “…though your guess why would be as fair as mine, as far as that’s concerned. I can understand why the fey may think I’d make some sort of fair leverage over my mother as a hostage, though I highly suspect they’d be wasting their time. I can’t make myself believe she’d care what they did with me…but if the captain spoke the truth and someone on the Council of Dragons wants me dead…” Here he tarried, uncertain. “I just…honestly can’t imagine
why. Even half-breeds are near dirt in their eyes, and I’m not even a half-blood…why they’d give a wit about me one way or the other is…a complete mystery to me.”
Kedean snorted. “Well…” he said, pushing up from the wall and rolling his shoulders, signaling an apparent end to their current topic, “…whatever the case may be, it sounds as if we’d best not linger. It’s fortunate, that it’s still raining…as it would be no small feat explaining to our host in her tongue why my companion entered as a man, but left as a woman…” Baisyl refrained from rolling his eyes. “Come, we should-”
“Wait,” Baisyl blurted instinctively, following a step behind his guard as he headed into the stable and for the door that lead to the main building of the inn, “…we?” he repeated, and when Kedean paused, Baisyl nearly ran into him. He felt his cheeks heat as he teetered to take a step back and cleared his throat when he regained balance. “That is,” he clarified, “…you’re not…leaving me?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Baisyl regretted them.
Was there any
better way to sound clingy, needy, and defenseless all in one?
All he’d done so far as this man had seen was prance around in a dress, nearly get himself raped, and leap over the side of a ship into glacial water—almost drowning himself and his guard in the process—it was a wonder the man didn’t already think of him as nothing but flighty and incapable.
“What I meant-” He started to correct himself.
“I haven’t exactly carried out my job description, yet, have I?” Kedean responded before he finished, and Baisyl blinked.
“Your…” And as fast as that, any embarrassing sense of elated confusion and gratitude condensed to a hard, dry knot in his stomach. “You can’t possibly be serious.”
Kedean raised an eyebrow. “About what?”
“You still plan on
delivering me…” Baisyl wanted to ball his fists, but by some thin margin held his peace, “…like some…
parcel…to-”
“Look,” Kedean cut him off with the first hint of irritated impatience Baisyl had ever heard from him laced into his tone, “I’m not going to bind your ankles together, throw you over my shoulder like the bounty of last night’s hunt, and drag you twitching and screaming to the feet of some twelve-year old who doesn’t know the difference between a beautiful woman and a puff pastry, alright?”
Baisyl blinked, startled.
“
Assuming,” his guard continued, “…that you
don’t want to walk, alone, barefoot, and penniless, towards Brittaney unaided to rendezvous with the betrothed you’ve thus far only expressed a grave distaste for…you are left with three options, as I see it. You may stay here…walk alone, barefoot, and penniless back to your family…or come with me. It matters little, as far as I am concerned,” he said, “and the choice is your own to make. Whatever you choose…
I am going to find my brother.”
His…? Oh, right—the blonde boy with the blue eyes, gold-brown skin, and loud mouth. What a wonder the two were related, Baisyl mused silently.
“Forgive my candor, but my family means more to me than seeing to it that you make your wedding date, regardless of however much I was paid. If you stay with me, I will see to it to keep you safe, to the best of my ability…though I can’t promise at this point that the road ahead will be easy.” When Kedean met his gaze and held it, waiting, Baisyl straightened himself, tucking two fingers into his vest pockets on either side and returning the look with raised eyebrows.
“So…where are we headed?”
Visibly, something in his guard relaxed.
“Carthak,” he answered, and started again towards the door; Baisyl followed alongside. “It’s the nearest sizeable port city and likely either where the ship that attacked us came from or where it’s headed too. If nothing else, it’ll be a good place to pick up information, and I have…friends…there.” At the intonation he put behind the word ‘friends’ in particular, Baisyl shot him a look.
“Really?” he asked. “You sound enthused.”
As he opened the door, Kedean cleared his throat, stepping aside to let Baisyl pass first. “More like…acquaintances,” he auto-corrected, and Baisyl’s eyebrows rose a notch higher.
“You don’t say,” he returned, dipping the tips of the words in sarcasm. “If all my…acquaintances sounded so pleasant as yours, I might-” He paused halfway through the door, frowning mildly. “You know…I am no longer wearing a skirt, there’s no need for you to open doors for me.”
Kedean glanced to the pass way, as if seeing it for the first time. “Oh…ah, of course not, milord, you’ll have to forgive me…” he responded, “…habit?” and Baisyl smiled curiously.
“Who raised you?”
Kedean met his look. “Those who would kick me onto the streets with no pay to feed either myself or my brother if I failed to show adequate respect to my…superiors…with all due respect, my lord,” he answered, and Baisyl’s neck and cheeks felt suddenly uncomfortably warm. He looked away.
Forcibly keeping his hand from rising to rub at the gathering heat around his collar, he responded simply, “I see,” and silence fell between them. He’d never thought about it before.
They kept the silence the rest of their trek to the front of the inn, where Kedean paused to have a word with the girl managing it. Together, the two of them spoke in a tongue Baisyl recognized in passing, but couldn’t speak but a few words of, thus leaving him to wait until Kedean finished and re-approached him. When he did, Baisyl raised his head expectantly.
“I spoke with her earlier this morning, before you woke,” Kedean explained, “…arranging how to repay her for her hospitality. After that was settled, she was kind enough to help us further…you should follow her upstairs. She has a pair of boots that should fit you.”
Baisyl frowned. “In this…?” What? Form? Gender? Body?
“Yes,” Kedean answered before Baisyl had to make up his mind. “They should fit you as a man.”
“Are we…actually going to…” Baisyl frowned, feeling ridiculous for asking but entirely unsure what his guard planned for them to do. “Are we going to…we’re not going to…
walk…to Carthak, are we?” he finally said, uncertainly, and Kedean looked up.
For what felt like the longest time, his guard held his stare, expression steady and serious, and Baisyl’s countenance slowly dropped. When finally opened his mouth again, though, Kedean’s face broke into the faintest crack of a smile before he flattened it once more and shook his head.
“No, milord,” he answered politely enough, though his eyes continued to dance with enough contained amusement to make Baisyl embarrassingly tempted to cross his arms like a petulant child for being teased so. “We will not be walking to Carthak. We’d never make it on time.” Before Baisyl could press, he nodded his head towards the foot of the stairs, where the inn girl still waited. “Go fetch your shoes, and meet me down front by the door. We’ll be heading to the other side of town to meet with someone, first.”
Reigning in the swelling appeal of being purposefully difficult, Baisyl gave a contained snort, and complied. The shoes fit better than he expected, given the shabby look of the inn itself.
He must have butchered his attempt at a “Thank you,” however, because the girl only giggled when he said it, and he retreated gratefully to Kedean’s side once finished. Unfortunately, just before they left, she pulled Kedean aside one last time, murmuring something quietly to him, and then giggling again when he replied, her eyes briefly flitting to Baisyl before darting back. Outside, the rain had stopped, and Baisyl was scowling when they left.
“Is it everyone’s priority to have a laugh at me this morning?” he clipped at last, once they’d made it several paces down the street, and Kedean looked surprised.
“Why do ask?”
“That girl,” Baisyl insisted. “You, earlier, and then, upstairs…when I put on the shoes, I…attempted to thank her,” he admitted, “but it must have come out very poorly because she only laughed, and then just then, again, she looked at me. I know she was making fun of me in one way or another. Do I still have straw stuck in my hair, or something?”
Kedean looked torn between friendly amusement and curiosity. “I’m not…entirely sure what sort of women you’re used to,” he said at last, “…but when a common girl, of that age, giggles and smiles at you…it does not mean she’s making fun of you.”
Baisyl frowned. “What are you getting at?”
Kedean opened his mouth, words obviously on the tip of his tongue, but at the last moment, he shut his mouth on them, smiling and shaking his head. Finally, his expression still amiable, but less teasing and completely honest, he said, “She admitted to me, once I assured her that your Northern Common was, indeed, as pitiful as it sounded upstairs…that she found you very attractive.”
Baisyl blinked, opened his mouth, and then shut it again. Eventually, he folded his arms and looked away in an attempt to appear as if he were examining the street stalls as his cheeks warmed.
“I will dry soon, if it doesn’t rain again,” he said, as much to change the subject as anything else, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Kedean glancing up.
“I doubt that it will…the sky looks nearly clear now. It’s probably best that way, though. The man we’re meeting with is leading a small caravan train to Carthak, departing this evening, and we’ll be riding with them for at least two days, if not longer, depending on the road and weather. It will be easier to keep you dry for that duration than wet…”
“Mm…I suppose,” Baisyl admitted. It was true. Still. “And if they found out?” he asked even as they pulled aside, meandering off into the nearest alley and moving in until they were out of sight of what little crowds were gathered in the streets so that they could wait, out of sight, for him to dry.
“About your…condition?” Kedean asked, and Baisyl felt his eyes on him as he leaned back against the nearest wall, tilting his head to rest against it with his face towards the sun, his own eyes shut.
“Curse,” he corrected.
A moment passed. Then Kedean said, “They may have nothing to say…or they may refuse to transport us, or try to burn you at the stake—I couldn’t guess. People’s reactions to such things vary greatly, from place to place…”
“Mm…” Baisyl sighed, bothered, but not overly so. Such things couldn’t exactly be helped. “A troublesome pity,” he said aloud, “…but nothing for it, I suppose.” Shifting his weight, he lifted his head just enough to eye his guard from under partially lowered lashes. “There was something else I meant to ask you, though, and it seems we have the time…”
Kedean looked back from examining the pass way down to the street.
“…whatever happened to those eels you warned me about? I would have thought we’d have been swarmed and eaten alive.”
His guard blinked. “Eels, milord?”
Baisyl waited. When Kedean took his time, Baisyl folded his arms, lips pursing.
“Oh,” his guard said at last, and he met Baisyl’s glower without a hint of guilt, “…you believed all that, did you?”
“You
lied to me-”
“You’ve lied to me, in the past,” Kedean pointed out, entirely casual.
“I—when?” Baisyl demanded.
“When you bet with me.”
“No,” Baisyl immediately jumped to defend himself, “I
used you moral obligations as an honorable man against you in order to con you into agreeing to do something dishonorable that you wouldn’t have otherwise consented to, lest you dishonor your obligation to honor the dishonorable agreement in the first place.”
A pause ensued.
After it, Kedean said, “…what?”
“I tricked you,” Baisyl responded simply, “and you fell for it, because you are a good man, and I am not. I never
lied…”
“The two are related.”
“The two are entirely unrelated.”
“My intentions were good-”
“-while mine were wicked, and immoral, and
much more fun,” Baisyl came back in, a smirk curling onto his lips like fire licking up a leaf as Kedean’s eyes darted his way, “…we could go on like this all day, Mister Akuwa…”
His guard looked half ready to throw his hands to the heavens, but as usual, he kept his peace, his eventual sigh passive and his eyes curious as he shook his head, saying only, “You’re…impossible. How am I to handle you?”
“Any way you like,” Baisyl answered casually— and with impressive alacrity, “…within limits, of course, but I don’t tend to be terribly picky as far as that’s concerned…though you will have to stand a bit closer if you wish to get anything done…”
“If I wish to…” The instant comprehension dawned was amusingly obvious. “Milord-”
Baisyl raised a hand, beckoning. “Come here a moment.”
“I don’t think-”
“-but I do,” Baisyl cut in a second time, adding, “Relax…” to appease his guard’s understandably dubious look, “…I promise not do anything dreadfully inappropriate…”
Kedean remained unconvinced. “I can’t imagine why, milord,” he responded, taking a single step closer nonetheless, “…but I get the sense that yours and my definition of what is and is not ‘appropriate’ might differ slightly…”
“Closer.”
“…and isn’t it more customary to promise that you won’t bite?”
“It is,” Baisyl admitted, “but—closer again, still…” As soon as his guard made it in range, Baisyl leaned up off the wall, reaching out to catch his hands, loosely, just below the wrists and guiding him forward until he could lean comfortably back against the wall again. From there, with Kedean directly before him and barely a full foot of space between them, Baisyl rested his head back, holding his guard’s gaze as he said, “I’d be lying if I promised never to bite.”
Kedean looked fully ready to shut his eyes on the situation. “Milord, whatever you’re after-”
“You act as if you expect me to attack at any given moment,” Baisyl complained, paying no heed to his guard’s words. “Am I really so intimidating? Perhaps I just want to talk…did I ever thank you?”
“To…talk?” Kedean responded, befuddled, his attention obviously split, and then he asked, “Thank me for what?”
Baisyl smiled, observing every reaction he drew with interest. “For saving my life, naturally,” he said, and Kedean frowned.
“You don’t…” He shook his head. “There’s no need to thank me…” he said, “…not for that, I don’t need-”
Curious, Baisyl lead the hands in his another fraction closer, moving them in until they were flat to the wall on either side of his hips. With his own fingers circled loosely just above Kedean’s wrists now, he felt every twitch and clench of the muscles there, and watched as Kedean did shut his eyes.
“What are you thinking about?” Baisyl asked, keeping the words soft and neutral, but running his thumbs along his guard’s skin, admiring the way the muscles underneath drew responsively taut under even that gentle exploration. “Whatever is, it must be very distracting,” he observed, “…as it seems to be leaving you rather out of sorts…”
“I am thinking…” Kedean matched Baisyl’s volume, but spoke significantly more rigidly, “…that there are a thousand and one reasons I shouldn’t be half this close to you…”
Baisyl let his hands come to a rest and looked up, studying the subtle furrows in his guard’s brow, the steadfast set of his jaw and the tension in his shoulders. “Is that all?”
Kedean opened his eyes, his gaze solid and steady, but something else too that made Baisyl’s stomach knot and heat, insides turning to molten jelly, and the temptation to swallow became nearly impossible to ignore.
“No,” his guard said finally. “That’s not all…but it’s the only thought I’m proud enough of to admit to aloud.”
Baisyl opened his mouth with every intention of making some reply, but a moment before anything made it out, the hands under his loose grip twitched, and almost before he fully realized they’d moved, Kedean had turned the tables: each of Baisyl’s wrists cuffed in either of Kedean’s hands.
“On second thought,” his guard amended, and Baisyl’s heart made itself well known as Kedean drew his hands up, over his head, and trapped them there, securely, “…I take that back. I
am wondering several things that I’m not too naïve, or too polite, to ask bluntly…”
Baisyl tested the strength of the hold, tugging his wrists in a brief squirm for escape. When the grip didn’t budge, his pulse climbed a rung higher.
“Relax,” his guard advised, giving his words back to him, “…you look as if you expect me to attack you at any given moment…” and Baisyl swallowed without meaning to. “Rest assured, I’ll let you down shortly…”
Oh, surely.
He would
let Baisyl down whenever he damn well felt like it, because there was clearly little chance of Baisyl escaping on his own until Kedean permitted him to do so, and
why was that realization thrilling to Baisyl’s senses as opposed to shameful, frustrating or even terrifying? Baisyl concluded that there was definitely something wrong with him.
“Now…” Kedean started calmly enough, “…you may think you’re being upfront about things…but it seems to me that I’m receiving some very mixed messages…”
“M—nn…ah, mixed…?” Baisyl cleared his throat. “
I’m giving mixed messages?”
“You say you have no desire to sleep with me-”
“I
said, previously,” Baisyl corrected, emphasizing the past tense, “that I had no
intention of sleeping with you. There is a distinct difference between that and having no desire to-”
“Alright,” Kedean cut him off, shutting his eyes and shaking his head again. “So…you…what?” he asked. “What is your aim? You bet with me, but don’t collect. You
toy with me…but then retreat before making any deciding moves. Is this a game, to you? Where you…bait me, and see how long it takes before I shove you against a wall and take you in broad daylight within spitting distance of a public market?”
In the first five seconds after opening his mouth, Baisyl got nothing but a throatful of his own pulse. Then, swallowing again and stubbornly ignoring the rising heat in his face, he asked, “If I said that that was exactly what I wanted, would you consent to it?”
Kedean looked down, meeting his stare. He opened his mouth, shut it, and then opened it again.
At last, he said, “I would hope, my lord…that I would have significantly more self-restraint than that,” and the corner of Baisyl’s lip twitched upwards.
“I have faith that you would. Now, as to your questions…I tease you,” he answered, “because you fascinate me. Your level of self-control is astounding, and I suppose you could say that in some ways it is a game, of sorts, to see how much effort, exactly, I must go to before I can drag a reaction out of you…but the intent isn’t malicious. I have yet to collect on our bet because, selfish though I may be, I am well aware that some things are only worth having if offered freely…and in my opinion all displays of intimacy, even mild, fall under that category. While we’re on the subject of mixed messages, though…”
Baisyl opened and closed his still-pinned fists to keep up the blood flow, though Kedean wasn’t holding them overly tightly anymore, and his guard raised his eyebrows.
“You,” Baisyl said, “…are clearly attracted to me.”
When Kedean looked ready to comment, Baisyl tilted his head, waiting patiently for words of denial; Kedean shut his lips again and Baisyl smirked.
“Yet,” he continued, “though I believe I’ve made it reasonably clear up to this point that I wouldn’t be opposed to advances on your part, you act as if I am completely off-limits. Despite saying this, though…despite
insisting that there are so many multitudes of reasons you shouldn’t indulge in any more than purely platonic company with me, you allow me to draw you closer. You allow me to keep your company and you have yet to candidly discourage my behavior. If you have every intention of eventually denying me, Mister Akuwa, I would have you say so now rather than shepherd me in circles to spare my heart or my pride—whichever you think would be more in danger.”
“Your pride,” Kedean answered.
“Pardon?”
“It is your pride alone that would be wounded, at this point, if I were to refuse you forthwith,” Kedean clarified, “…and you can rest easy knowing I expend no effort to protect
that.” He sighed, frowning. “I only-”
Then, abruptly, untimely and unwelcome as ever, Baisyl winced, shutting his eyes as a familiar sensation swept him.
No, no, no, must it be
now? Drawing his lower lip between his teeth, he waited out the transition as his skin crawled, itching and tingling as if the whole of his body was being folded into an ill-shaped cocoon, or being swallowed by sink-sand. Around his wrists, Kedean’s grip seemed to expand, loosen, and rise, though he knew it was only his own body shrinking by comparison, his chest filling out his tunic and his hair falling heavy and thick down his backside between himself and the wall.
After but a few brief seconds that felt like so much longer, he breathed a broken sigh of relief as the changes ceased, and turned a stubborn, pink-cheeked glower on his guard. Kedean released his wrists.
“Is that…painful?” his guard asked, the frustration in his previous frown already replaced by concern, and Baisyl’s expression softened, if only partly. He hesitated a moment before answering.
“Not…overly…” He rolled his shoulders, folding his arms self-consciously over his chest and turning what remained of his glower to the dirt, “…but isn’t comfortable.”
“You really don’t like that body, do you,” Kedean observed, making it more a statement than a question, but Baisyl looked up, anyway.
“I hate it.” He shifted against the wall, pushing an irritated hand back through his hair, suddenly overtly aware of Kedean’s close proximity all over again, but this time with an overarching sense of being pitifully small by comparison. “I feel…brittle and out of place…powerless. If you haven’t noticed by now, I
like having some sense of control.”
“Most people do,” Kedean agreed, but at Baisyl’s look, he added, “…but yes, I’ve noticed.”
“I…hate feeling…” Baisyl searched for a word—helpless, weak, dependant, vulnerable, lost…? All of these fit and more, yet none of them summed up how feeble, exposed, and out of control he felt in his own skin when in the wrong body.
“I can’t pretend to understand, milord…but whatever it is you think you’ve lost when you lose the skin you’re comfortable with, it is trivial in comparison to everything you still are,” Kedean said, and he took a step back, providing Baisyl with some much needed breathing room. “As far as I can tell from the short time I’ve spent with you thus far, you are the same sharp, spirited, and willful individual regardless of whatever lies under your garments.” Kedean held out a hand. “Shall we?”
Baisyl stared at it, reminded strangely enough of being lead down from his carriage at their first meeting as he let his fingers slip into his guard’s grasp, and when Kedean helped him up from the wall, he found himself all but chest to chest with him once more.
As their eyes interlocked, he said, “You’re kinder to me…as a woman,” and Kedean blinked.
“Am I?” he asked, sounding surprised, but not necessarily rejecting the observation. “Perhaps it is that you seem more in desire of kindness,” he answered, and let his hand drop, leaving Baisyl to follow alongside and just behind him as they started back towards the market and their original destination.
“And what, might I ask,” Baisyl came back in, annoyed at the forced briskness he had to put into his step to keep up Kedean’s long, easy strides, “…do I seem most in desire of as a man?”
His guard glanced to him, and—noticing his pace—slowed his walk. When he spoke, his words were deep and fluid, and though completely foreign and unrecognizable to his ears, Baisyl felt tempted to swallow, his face warming.
“What, ah…” He cleared his throat, “…what does that mean?”
“It means…” Kedean paused before eventually finishing with, “…gratification.”
Baisyl frowned. “What kind of gratification?”
When Kedean raised his eyebrows, Baisyl was besieged by a sudden, vivid mental image of himself: his back to a wall, hands secured above his head and head thrown back to bare his neck as dark hands held his legs up and spread by the knees, open to either side as he was-
Face burning, he blinked rapidly and shook his head, folding his arms consciously back over his chest.
“Something the matter, milord?”
Baisyl blinked, then shook his head and said aloud, “No, ah…nothing. I’m…fine.” How he
hated being aroused in this body. Clearly, there was something wrong with him.
Since when had spreading his legs held even the least bit of appeal for him?
Since he stepped off a carriage and into the protection of a man who looked like he could tame a wild gryphon if need be.
Baisyl pursed his lips, irritated with himself as much as anything else. Barely three days, and he’d already quite willingly play the good submissive and let his guard have his way with him if he so chose to take it?
‘
What a fantastic little slut you are, Baisyl,’ he thought sourly. ‘
Who would have guessed?’
“-you think?”
“Mm?” Baisyl looked up. “Sorry, repeat that?”
“I said,” Kedean repeated patiently, “that it might be a good idea to come up with a more…convincing name…” At Baisyl’s quirked eyebrow, he added, “…for a woman.”
“You were convinced enough.”
“With all due respect, milord, I didn’t consider it my place to question…but if nothing else, it might be wise to adopt a false name regardless, seeing as there are apparently those who would see you come to harm.”
“Mm…” Baisyl’s eyes wandered over the stalls as they passed them, taking in the rich, tangled mosaic of conflicting sounds and smells: humans and animals by the bushel load, some dirtier than he’d ever seen, others draped in a wide array of garments—though none of them particularly valuable—with the occasional small child or stray creature running amuck between their ankles. All of them bustled about busily, half the time shouting in a language he recognized only as the one the innkeeper girl had used.
He’d never visited such a place that he remembered in person, except perhaps by carriage, and even then they avoided the thick of it. It was astounding, the conditions under which peasants could stand to live.
“I suppose,” he said at length, dragging his eyes off the scene and up to his guard’s face. “What would you suggest?”
“I…have no suggestions, milord,” Kedean responded. “I think it would be more fitting if you chose one.”
Baisyl frowned. “A woman’s name? I can’t think of any I like. Every woman I’ve had the…pleasure…of meeting was a vehement bitc-”
A wailing child, with fervent mother in hot pursuit, came within a foot of Baisyl’s leg, short of toppling directly into him only because Kedean caught his waist not a moment too soon and guided him forcibly out of the way. As the noisome mother-child pair continued on for several more yards before colliding with a different set of innocent market goers, Baisyl watched the ensuing drama with some wide-eyed combination of bewilderment and barely-veiled distaste.
“The children here are aplenty and unchecked as rats in a sewer,” he observed, oblivious of Kedean’s answering frown. “Do these peasants do nothing but eat and breed?”
The hands holding him left, and it took Baisyl but a moment to pick up the irritation in his guard’s otherwise neutral expression; the set of his jaw gave him away. He blinked, pushing his pace to catch up from where Kedean left him.
“What did I say?” he asked when he made it back to his guard’s side, and Kedean spared him a glance.
“Nothing, milord, why do you ask?” he responded. Before Baisyl could answer, though, Kedean continued briskly, “It is only…not every child has had the privilege of being raised to be so…well-mannered and gentle tempered as you.”
The sarcasm wasn’t terribly subtle.
Baisyl pursed his lips. “I meant no offen-”
“If you had been denied breakfast after having no dinner the previous night, and were then beaten when you went out to get it yourself, you might also be inclined to complain.”
Baisyl looked back. Behind them, one of the men whom the child had run into, clearly of a wealthier class, was passing coins to a pleased looking shopkeeper; the mother, or whoever she was, was speaking in a rush to him, pink in the face with gratitude, the child at her side, already chipmunk-faced with some variety of bread half-stuffed in its mouth.
“Lucky thing,” Kedean commented, and Baisyl turned back around. “Most aren’t so generous after being toppled into when going about their daily business,” he explained. Before Baisyl could think of how to respond, his guard resumed walking. He took large steps to keep up.
“Is that…common?” he asked after a significant pause, and Kedean glanced over.
“Is what common?”
“Children,” Baisyl said, “that small going hungry…does that happen often? That is…I knew the poor had limited resources, but…I would think at that age…they couldn’t possibly take much to feed?”
After a few moments too long, Baisyl wondered if it were truly a stupid question to ask, but just before he opened his mouth to take it back, Kedean answered, “It’s more common in rural areas…and city slums, of course, and it varies from region to region and year to year, depending on how successful any given season’s crop is, or trade…depending on the family’s means of living. It’s not so much a matter of how much or how little it would take to feed them. When your crop fails and you have nothing, portion size is irrelevant…you still have nothing.”
Baisyl frowned. “But-”
“Have you thought of a name yet?”
“Was your childhood like that?” Baisyl asked, paying the question no mind, and when he looked, Kedean looked…surprised? His expression evolved as Baisyl watched, condensing gradually into something torn between curiosity, puzzlement, and regret. Realizing that the inquiry in and of itself might not be something his guard wanted to be forthright about, Baisyl hastened to add, “If you don’t want to answer you don’t have-”
“I don’t remember,” Kedean said before he could finish, and Baisyl blinked, startled. Most striking was how serious he sounded when he said it.
“You…don’t—? How could you not-”
“Natara,” Kedean said, curtly changing the subject, and Baisyl pursed his lips.
“Anriel,” he countered. “Who’s Natara?”
Kedean glanced his way, eyebrows raised. “Who’s Anriel?”
Baisyl blushed.
Alright, clearly two could play at that game.
He debated a moment, and then he said, “Anriel is the eldest daughter of the Baron Venere of Worchest. He used to come visit with my father most summers and would bring her along to be my…playmate, as a child. She was to be my wife—until I was cursed, of course.”
“I can see how that might complicate things,” Kedean agreed.
“I gave her my virginity.”
Kedean looked down. “Before you were wed?”
“She was willing enough,” Baisyl explained, “…and I wanted to confirm that women were indeed as boring in bed as they were at the dinner table. I haven’t slept with another since. Now…” He looked up, “…who is Natara?”
Kedean frowned. “She was…is…a, ah…woman. Anriel is better,” he said. “You look much more like an Anriel.”
Baisyl huffed. “What do you know? I look nothing like Anriel. She always had this face as if she were chewing lemons or grass critters or something…not to mention straw-yellow hair and tiny tits…I’m
much prettier.”
When Baisyl looked, Kedean was, to his surprise, smiling.
Curious, he asked, “Do I amuse you?” and his guard’s smile grew, even as he shook his head.
“Your…humility, is endearing, milord,” he responded, and Baisyl quirked an eyebrow. As soon as he opened his mouth, though, Kedean interrupted with, “Here we are. Try to mind your manners and act ladylike, hm?”
“Mind my—and whatever is
that supposed to mean?” Baisyl demanded. “My manners are-”
But Kedean was already walking ahead again, and Baisyl pursed his lips as he followed.
It was some time later before he noted that Kedean had managed to neatly avoid each and every even remotely personal question thrown at him since morning.
A/N: And so ends part one. Long chapter (in relation to the others); hopefully I didn't lose your interst midway. I can safely promise that Baisyl and Kedean will start getting significantly "friendlier" in short order, now. It just took a good while to notch off all the excess ice and get them alone journeying together. :3 So, you can look forward to that, and more appearances by Rhyan (and Zyric!) coming shortly enough. :)
