The Sorcerer’s Betrayal
by
Tricia Owens
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012 Tricia Owens
Read other titles by Tricia Owens at
https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/TriciaOwens
CHAPTER ONE
"Caledon, catch!"
The blond-haired mercenary flicked out a dagger and deftly speared the thrown apple. He inclined his head at the green-eyed girl beside the fruit cart. "Many thanks, Mistress Alena." He smiled when she blushed, causing the freckles on her face stand out in sharp relief. He took a bite of the apple and approached her. Taking her hand, he pressed some coins into it. "Treat your man to a feast at one of the inns tonight, love. You two deserve a nice night out."
“Oh, Caledon, you don’t need—“
He curled her fingers over the coin. “Sorry, love. Can’t take them back once they’ve left my possession.”
The red-haired girl colored again but nodded.“Thank you, Caledon. You’re a sweetie.”
“Why are the ladies always telling you that?”
Caledon rolled his eyes at the familiar voice. Throwing a last wink at the girl, he turned to face the newcomer. A tall, lanky man with dirty blond hair and mellow brown eyes was currently grinning at him from the middle of the street. Mercenary that he was, he was dressed like Caledon in shades of black. However, instead of carrying the various daggers that Caledon did, the lanky man wore only a single sword sheathed over his shoulder.
"They always say that because it's true," Caledon replied after emitting a long-suffering sigh. "Maybe if you possessed half as much charm you'd fare the same way, Tye."
The other man laughed, his tobacco-stained teeth spread wide. "Charm and a lack of discrimination. You best me in both."
Caledon shrugged. His preferences in bed were no secret. "I appreciate a pretty face. Gender is beside the point."
"Hmm. So I suppose you'd be interested in that walking beauty."
Caledon followed his friend's knowing gaze to a tavern several yards away. Stepping from its doors was a raven-haired creature of such unexpected beauty that Caledon forgot to blink.
"By the gods," he breathed, his gaze riveted to the slender figure that were it not for the gait, he might have mistaken for a female. Shoulder-length black hair framed a face whose alabaster skin suggested a life spent indoors. The stranger's high, graceful cheekbones were almost exotic in this place where classic beauty was near unheard of. And his eyes... Caledon felt his body stir. Even from the distance he could see that the stranger had impossibly wide grey eyes the color of storm clouds and rain. "Amazing. Who is that?"
Tye laughed, stepping beside him to join in his study of the stranger. "He's in Rhiad recruiting men for a temporary army his father is trying to build. Seems there's a dispute that needs a few sharp swords to settle. The usual." He elbowed his friend meaningfully. "I spoke with him earlier this morning. He's even more breathtaking up close. You should meet him."
"It was never a question," Caledon replied distractedly as he watched the stranger cross the street and enter Caledon's favorite tavern. "What is his name?"
"Hadrian."
~~~~~
The Bell and Buckle was Caledon's favorite place to relax in Rhiad because it was the closest thing to sitting in the sun. The tavern possessed more windows than any other building in town: four, to be exact -- two on either side of the front door and one in each of the side walls. When he sat at the bar stretched across the back he could almost imagine himself outdoors. Or at least, that's what Caledon liked to tell himself. Since he invariably spent the majority of his waking hours either working in the pitch black of night or lurking about in the shadows of the seediest places imaginable, when his time was his own he sought the light. He wanted to cleanse himself, if only for a little while, of the darkness.
Today the B&B was his favorite tavern for another reason. It was where his quarry had gone. Having followed the dark-haired stranger inside, Caledon now lounged at the bar, surreptitiously watching him from over the rim of a mug full of foamy ale.
Gods, but when had anyone walked into Rhiad looking as this one did? Caledon traveled extensively as his jobs warranted, but always it seemed he ended up lurking in places where dirt was the cosmetic of choice and baths were few and far between. Caledon had grown accustomed to dirty faces and questionable hygiene. Seeing someone like this stranger, whose clean garments and well-groomed appearance indicated that he obviously came from a far different background, was worth staring at even if he wasn't handsome.
But to Caledon's immense enjoyment the stranger was nothing less than stunning. His long dark hair was the shade of a raven's wing, thick and glossy. Contrasted against his charcoal tunic and grey cloak, the stranger's fair skin look almost translucent. Caledon's eyes traveled up the stubborn jaw and full, pink-petaled lips, tracing the high arc of cheekbones until they came to the stranger's gaze. He needed to see those magnetic eyes up close.
"You takin' a bite of what he's offerin', Caledon?"
The mercenary nearly choked on his ale, quickly wiping at his chin. He turned on the stool and regarded the barkeep with a cocked brow. "I assume that was deliberate, Rankin. Are you trying to make me waste good ale by spilling it all over myself?"
Rankin, who owned the Bell and Buckle, shrugged innocently. "Just means you gotta buy more." He picked up a dirty rag, moved it around in his hands until he found a patch that wasn't as dark as the rest, and used it to wipe out a mug. He inclined his head towards the stranger in the corner. "You goin' to talk to him? Heard he's lookin' to hire."
"Mmm," Caledon murmured noncommittally, spinning around to regard the man in question again. "Who's he talked to so far?"
"Everyone. Doesn't seem to care 'bout skill or price. Seems like he just wants bodies. He'd probably want yours."
Caledon rolled his eyes at the innuendo. "Never were one for subtleties, were you, Rank?"
The barkeep snorted. "Like you weren't thinkin' the same thing when you followed him in here."
Caledon laughed. All right, so he had a reputation. It wasn't something he was about to change. He enjoyed his life for the most part. Caledon lived to live. That meant enjoying the more pleasant aspects of life as often as possible.
It was an attitude he had long ago learned to adopt. Killing people for a living wasn't the most heartening of occupations. He found himself in unsavory positions more often than not. And sometimes it took more ale and sex than was probably healthy to make himself forget what he had willingly committed for a bag of coin. He had a conscience somewhere deep down. But if he tried hard enough, he could almost make himself forget it.
Someone like this stranger was the perfect means of doing so.
"Gonna make yourself available to 'im?" Rankin asked with a smirk as Caledon slid off the stool.
Caledon threw a grin over his shoulder. "In every way possible, my friend."
~~~~~
Hadrian decided that he didn't much care for this place. Not just this tavern which reeked of sweat and old ale, but the entire town of Rhiad. This was why he never left the island of Shard's Point. Why should he, when this was all there was to look forward to?
He took a tentative sip of his ale and suppressed a grimace. Was his father punishing him for something? Is that why Hadrian had been chosen for this task when any member of the Order could have accomplished the same? Hadrian wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. Since he could remember, his life had consisted of him attempting not to displease his father and inevitably failing. Somewhere, somehow, he had done something wrong yet again. Now he was trapped here with what must surely be the scum of the land collected for his perusal.
Hadrian rubbed at his forehead idly, thinking on the men he had encountered during this mission. Killers, all of them. Why his father needed to employ them he had no idea, nor would he ask. He had learned long ago that simply being the great Gavedon ni Leyanon's son did not mean he was privy to the man's mind. Hadrian was as much a stranger to his father's inclinations as the rest of the members of the Order. Every day he was reminded of that fact as Gavedon's eyes looked through Hadrian as though he didn't exist.
He looked up as the chair directly across from him was slid away from the table. A man's booted foot had pulled it back and now rested upon its seat. Hadrian's eyes traveled up the muscled leg clothed in worn, black breeches. Daggers were strapped on either side of the man's thigh and another one hung at his waist. The strap of a sheath ran across the front of the man's dark tunic, drawing the fabric tight over a broad chest. Hadrian could see the smooth hilt of a sword peeking over the man's shoulder. A mercenary. A well-armed one, at that.
Then his eyes lifted to the man's face and Hadrian at once forgot his dislike of Rhiad.
"I've heard you're looking to hire a few swords," the man said in a lazy drawl, his voice deep and nuanced.
Something wild fluttered in Hadrian's stomach. He didn't understand the sudden tightness in his chest that made it difficult to draw breath. The man before him was not much older than he but the tiny lines around his bright blue eyes spoke of an experience far beyond Hadrian. He was well traveled; Hadrian surmised as much from the deeply tanned skin and the straw-colored hair that held pale strands of sunlight. He had a strong, square face that Hadrian sensed could look frighteningly dangerous should the moment warrant it. But right now the man was grinning at him with wide white teeth that looked even brighter set within his dark countenance.
Hadrian realized he was staring. He felt heat steal into his cheeks and that only made the man's smile widen further. Someone who definitely knows how handsome he is, Hadrian decided, dropping his eyes. And most likely with the charm to match. Hadrian might not have had much experience dealing with the outside world but he had come to recognize those few to whom charm came second nature. Conscious of his own lack of social skills, he had learned to be wary of them.
"Are you a mercenary?" Hadrian asked him as calmly as he could. He wanted to wipe his sweating palms against his breeches but feared it would reveal too much to the man. Those blazing blue eyes looked unerringly sharp.
"For a price," the man replied.
"The very definition of a mercenary, is it not?" Hadrian said, glancing up at him. The man was still smiling and watching Hadrian with undisguised curiosity. Cursing his fair skin that betrayed too much, Hadrian shrugged. "Money is not an issue."
"Money is always an issue." The booted foot lifted from the chair. "May I sit?"
The prospect of having the man join him was both daunting and exciting. Hadrian nodded, trying to appear unaffected. He knew he failed by the amusement that creased the mercenary's face as he lowered himself into the chair and leaned both forearms on the table between them. The man had rolled up the sleeves of his tunic allowing Hadrian to see the muscles of his forearms flex beneath the light dusting of golden hair. Hadrian quickly looked away.
"Why are you trying to appear disinterested in me?" the man asked.
"What -- what do you mean?" Hadrian stammered, caught aback.
A twitch of the lips showed the other man had caught his slip. "You need men for your father's army, don't you?" the mercenary said, cocking his head innocently. "And you've said that money is not a problem for you."
Frowning with the fear he was being played with, Hadrian sat back to build some distance. "If you're willing then yes, I wish to hire you. My father needs every mercenary in Rhiad."
The other man steepled his fingers, his sky-blue eyes looking over them at Hadrian. "What is it you're hiring for, exactly?"
Would that I knew, Hadrian thought somewhat resentfully. Aloud, he said, "My father owns a great deal of land in northern Jeynesa. It's been in his family since beyond memory, passed to the eldest son of each generation. However, an illegitimate son has surfaced to contest my father's claim." Hadrian leaned forward again, trying to appear concerned. "My father has been facing threats of violence and he fears serious fighting. He sent me here to gather enough mercenaries to form a small army. I think he hopes that a show of force will forestall any actual confrontation. Therefore, I need men like you."
The words, given to him to repeat by Gavedon, and having been used countless times already, suddenly sounded transparently false as he spoke them to this mercenary. Maybe it was because the blue eyes that watched him as he spoke didn't blink. He sensed that this man wasn't a fool. It made him add, "My father will be here in a fortnight to explain everything. You may decide then whether or not you wish to remain in his employ. I don't particularly care if you don't trust me."
Hadrian knew he was taking a risk. He wasn't supposed to leave the option to refuse. Gavedon had impressed upon Hadrian the importance -- no, the urgency -- of ensuring that every mercenary in the town be convinced to meet with Gavedon. But Hadrian was unnerved by this mercenary's confidence. He was different than the others Hadrian had already spoken to who had radiated various degrees of danger and recklessness. This man's threat seemed layered in something else that Hadrian didn't quite recognize.
"You're a bit swift to jump to conclusions," the mercenary said with a laugh. It was an easy laugh that Hadrian sensed came often. Some of his tenseness fled at the light sound. "I never said I don't trust you. I simply don't know you. Yet," he added with a grin. "My name is Caledon ni Agthon."
Hadrian found it disconcerting that the man could look so open and friendly when he was obviously a paid killer. Still, Hadrian did manage to relax somewhat. "I’m Hadrian."
He hoped he didn't sound overly suspicious by not giving his surname but Caledon did not seem to mind. The mercenary smiled with genuine warmth. "Now forgive me if it is I who is jumping to conclusions, Hadrian, but I'd wager you don't venture into the likes of Rhiad very often, do you?"
Hadrian nodded, intending to play up his role as the spoiled, sheltered son of a wealthy land owner. "I am unused to such... places, yes. But this is important to my father, so I will deal with it as I must."
Caledon's eyes glittered. "Your father must have great faith to send such a lamb to the wolves."
Except this lamb is no mere lamb, Hadrian thought. Revealing his true nature though, was out of the question. Gavedon had made that painfully, memorably clear. "I suppose my father thinks the prospect of future wealth under his employ will dissuade anyone from murdering me outright. Better to hold out for a future reward that is sweeter."
Caledon grinned. "Oh, yes," he murmured, eyes intent on Hadrian. "Anticipation is much sweeter."
Flustered by the interest he saw in the blue eyes, Hadrian could not hold Caledon's gaze. Reactions like those of the other man's were something Hadrian had been trying hard to understand since stepping onto the mainland. Perhaps it was his admittedly odd coloring or maybe it was his garments that clearly marked him as a stranger, but he had been subject to more attention in the last five days than he could remember receiving in his entire life.
"Don't look so uneasy," Caledon said gently. "If I intend to work for you I'm not going to attack you. You needn't be afraid of me."
Hadrian wanted to laugh. He wasn't afraid of being attacked by the blond-haired mercenary. Not when he knew that with a softly spoken word he could send the larger man flying through the air and across the room. What made him uncomfortable was that deep down he understood that Caledon presented a threat to him that he had had little experience countering.
Hadrian had never before considered his secluded upbringing to be a burden. What did it matter if his contact with those outside the Order was limited to a handful of fanatics? But now, forced to interact with the mainland, he glimpsed one of the ways in which such social inexperience would leave him vulnerable.
"Doesn't your father worry that you might be kidnapped and held for ransom?" Caledon asked. "You're making it far too obvious that you come from a family of wealth. To those less scrupulous than I you're something of a temptation." He smiled. "In many ways."
Hadrian shifted in his chair uneasily, wishing the other man were ugly or rude or anything other than what he was so that Hadrian would want to conclude their business. But Caledon was handsome and charming and seemed genuinely interested in him...Would it hurt to indulge in the man's attention? Gavedon's face rose in his mind. Yes, it would.
"I can take care of myself; you needn't concern yourself on that matter," Hadrian replied.
Before he could react, Caledon's hand shot across the table and grabbed hold of his wrist, turning his palm up on the table. Hadrian tugged halfheartedly as a calloused fingertip drew lightly across the skin of his palm. His eyes widened at the bolt of sensation that the small touch sent through his body. He held his breath as Caledon drew a lazy circle in his palm.
"You aren't proficient with the sword," the mercenary commented as he watched his finger trace the contours of Hadrian's palm. "You ride often enough but your hands are too soft for you to convince me you're adept with weapons, love." He raised blue eyes to study Hadrian. A small smile played at the edges of his lips. "So tell me how it is that you take care of yourself, hmm? Because I wouldn't want to see a pretty thing like you get hurt. Not if I could have prevented it."
Love. Pretty thing. Hadrian stared at Caledon, stunned at the casual endearment, the lazy compliment.
He frowned slightly when Caledon released his wrist.
"You need someone to watch your back while you're in Rhiad."
Hadrian mentally shook his head, clearing his senses as the words sank in. "What are you talking about?"
Caledon shrugged, sitting back in his chair. The pale light picked out the highlights in his hair, making Hadrian want for the first time in his life to touch someone else. "That coy little game of yours might work for you in your social circles when your father is around, but it's guaranteed to make you a target in a place like this. For some men, nothing is quite as seductive as the chance to 'break' someone like you."
Hadrian felt the heat rising in his cheeks. He didn't want to be having his conversation. Though he didn't fully understand all of Caledon's references he could guess at their meanings.
"I'm not playing at anything," he insisted, dragging his hand into his lap and scrubbing at his palm to erase the mercenary's touch. "And I don't need your assistance. I will only be here another three days. I shall be fine."
Caledon merely smiled.
Becoming irritated, Hadrian squared his jaw. "You're not the only one I need to speak to while I'm here. My time is short. I have others I see. May I count you among those interested in my father's employ? As I said, he will be here in a fortnight to explain everything further."
Caledon sat back, studying him thoughtfully. "Why the haste? The sun hasn't set yet. We've time to share conversation. You're like a skittish maiden."
Hadrian knew the comment was deliberately intended to provoke him. He forced himself to ignore it, unwilling -- gods, afraid -- to engage this dangerous man further. Hadrian was out of his element and they both knew it.
"I haven't come to Rhiad to share in conversation," he said carefully, making sure the mercenary understood every word. Only the memory of his father's mood kept him from looking away from Caledon's heated blue eyes. If Hadrian failed in this the punishment when he returned to Shard’s Point would be unbearable."I'm sorry... Caledon, but I need to conduct my business." He hesitated, and then recklessly added, "Maybe -- perhaps we could meet another time."
He immediately blushed at his own forwardness. What was he doing? He would never come back here. And if his father found out he was -- interested -- in someone on the mainland, Hadrian would be forbidden from stepping foot off the isle again. But when Caledon's eyes lit up, a lazy grin curling his lips that shortened Hadrian's breath, Hadrian knew why he had said what he had. Because he hoped it would come true.
"Not today then," Caledon said, deliberately misunderstanding. Before Hadrian could clarify, the mercenary rose from his chair and came around the table. He braced a strong, tanned hand on the table beside Hadrian and leaned over him. Hadrian dropped his eyes to the table, afraid to look up into the blue gaze right beside his face. Caledon's breath was soft and warm against his cheek, stirring his hair. The rumble of his quiet voice against his ear made Hadrian's body flood with heat.
"I'm glad I met you, Hadrian. It's been a long time since I've encountered anyone like you." Rough fingertips brushed a strand of dark hair from Hadrian's temple. His lashes fluttered in unconscious response. "I'll see you again before you leave. I promise."
Something long repressed made Hadrian turn his head and blurt, "Will you?"
Momentary surprise was replaced by a lush confidence that had Hadrian's insides melting. Caledon's eyes lowered to Hadrian's mouth a moment before the mercenary's thumb brushed over it, slightly parting his lips. "I always keep my promises, love. And this is one I want to keep very badly." He stroked Hadrian's bottom lip. "Very badly, indeed."
Hadrian's heart was pumping so hard he feared it would explode. Oh, gods, he wanted to lick Caledon's thumb. He wanted to grab him and, and -- what? Sadly, he didn't know what he wanted, just more of this luscious, blood-stirring feeling that was making him ache in all those secret places and left him hungry. Hungry for touch, for taste, for feelings...
He knew he was trembling by the way Caledon's eyes darkened as they looked over him. "Gods be damned," the mercenary said abruptly. "Meet me in the stables beside the Fickle Harper Inn."
Hadrian started to nod automatically, then stopped himself as reason began to intrude. "No, I -- I can't. I need to meet too many--"
"Later tonight," Caledon breathed. "After you've had your supper. I want to see you."
Gods, if his father ever found out... But, found out what? What if the mercenary only wanted to speak with him? Ah, but what if he wanted more? Hadrian had little idea what that "more" could entail, but he wanted to find out.
He nodded, regretting the action as it dislodged the touch from his mouth. Caledon smiled faintly at his expression. "Meet me tonight and I'll give you more," the blond promised.
More. Whatever it was, Hadrian wanted it. His eyes locked on Caledon as the blond backed away and strode casually from the room. When the man had left, Hadrian ran a hand down his face. He was flushed with heat and his heart was still pounding. He almost smiled. He normally only felt this way when he magicked. He wondered if what he had just experienced with Caledon wasn't its own form of magick. He vowed to find out.
CHAPTER TWO
Rankin needed to clean his damn windows, Caledon thought sourly as he tried to see through the dirt and smoke-filmed glass. How in the hell was Caledon supposed to keep an eye on his newfound interest if he couldn't see him? Leaning against the side of the neighboring mercantile, he stretched his neck to better glimpse the latest interloper on Hadrian's table. Caledon scowled. All he could make out of the man was his grin, which was entirely too suggestive for Caledon's tastes. The man would have to go.
Before he could straighten away from the wall a hand caught his sleeve.
"Don't go causing trouble you don't need," Tye warned jovially. "You just met him. He might not be worth it."
Caledon shook his head. "He's worth it. I'd stab you in the back for a chance with him."
Tye pretended shock. "Me? I always suspected our friendship was thin but not that thin. Throw me over for a pretty face, eh? I'll remember that the next time you're arse-deep."
"I don't get it, Tye," Caledon mumbled, watching the new mercenary throw yet another leering grin at Hadrian. His hands fisted. "Something about him is getting to me. Like a burr in my shoe that keeps digging deeper with every step. It's like I don't want anyone else in Rhiad to even look his way. He's mine."
Tye whistled, settling against the wall beside Caledon. "Your words frighten me, my friend. You sound as though you're -- dare I suggest it -- falling in love?" He clutched at his chest melodramatically. "Surely the great Caledon hasn't succumbed at last to that fabled weakness."
Caledon leveled a glare at him hot enough to melt glass. "Don't make me run you through with my sword. Because believe me, continue on with this subject and I'll do it."
Tye smiled sympathetically. "Aw, come on, Caledon. Nothing wrong with falling in love. Even if it's with, well, a him." His eyes swung to the window Caledon was trying to stare through. "Granted, a very pretty him, but a him, nonetheless--”
"Your point?" Caledon said blandly.
The other mercenary shrugged, his expression sobering. "It's just I've never known you to really care about someone that way. You entertain several lovers, sure. And I hear you treat them well. But this...Well, it'd be nice to see you have a deeper interest, that's all."
Several lovers. That was an understatement. Caledon enjoyed his romps between the sheets. He knew he was a good lover and he enjoyed sharing his talents. Did that make him shallow? Did he care? So what if he never settled down with one person? He had his brothers to carry on the family line. All that was left for him of family duty was to not embarrass them all.
And Hadrian wasn't an embarrassment. Oh, no. He was a prize.
"I'm going to see him tonight," he told Tye, breathing a little easier when he saw the mercenary who had been speaking with Hadrian stand up from the table. "This may sound odd, but I get the impression that he doesn't engage in trysts very often."
"No wonder you're hooked," Tye teased. "Always were a sucker for a virgin."
The words sounded vaguely lecherous to Caledon and that bothered him. "It's not just that," he protested. "It's something about him. He's different, he's--" Why by the gods was he trying to explain himself like some besotted maiden? "Ah, forget it." He pulled out his classic grin. "Once I poke him a few times I'll probably grow bored with him. It wouldn't be the first time I lost interest after a tumble."
No, not the first time, but he secretly doubted that it would be the case with Hadrian.
If Tye had similar doubts, he kept them to himself. "Yeah, maybe that'll happen. We'll see, huh?" He lightly punched the other man in the shoulder. "Just don't go starting fights over him just yet. That'd be a humiliating way to die, my friend."
"Don't worry," Caledon assured him. His eyes were so intent on Hadrian's latest guest that he didn't even see his friend leave. "I have no intention of dying before I get a taste of him."
~~~~~
By the time Hadrian exited the doors of the Mercenary Guild Caledon was ready to strangle someone simply to relieve the pressure. If he'd known the other man was going to the Guild he would have swiftly talked Hadrian out of it. The Mercenary Guild of Rhiad was nothing more than a house of whores. Run by a handful of former soldiers, the Guild hired out men like they were selling prostitutes. When they couldn't find enough mercenaries willing to take the meager cut being offered them, the Guild had no qualms about dragging in drunken wretches to play the part of "skilled swordsmen". As low down the social ladder as knew he was, Caledon still felt able to sneer down at the Guild.
Yet as he trailed Hadrian from a careful distance, Caledon began to reconsider. Hadrian might not even care about such details. Indeed, he hadn't asked a single question about Caledon's skills when he'd inquired about hiring him, which the mercenary found a bit odd. Still, it was an insult to think Caledon might be working alongside common Guild members. He'd have to have a word with Hadrian about that. Even he had his standards.
Unconsciously stepping from shadow to shadow in the deepening twilight, Caledon followed Hadrian to the docks. Hadrian had kept to the main byways of Rhiad during the day but now he was straying into more questionable territory. A rough crowd typically loitered at the docks and Caledon could just imagine the sort of reception someone with Hadrian's looks would receive. He kept his hand near the closest dagger.
True enough, as Hadrian paused at the end of a pier looking out over the purple water, a man approached him. He was a deckhand by the looks of it, taking a break from maintenance on a small schooner docked alongside the pier. Caledon stepped closer, watching carefully. He didn't want Hadrian to know he was being followed but he wasn't about to see that pretty face marred either.
The man said something and reached out to tug on Hadrian's hair. Hadrian turned slowly, looking strangely unconcerned at finding himself cornered by a much larger, stronger man. Caledon kept his weight on the balls of his feet, ready to spring forward at the slightest hint of fear from Hadrian. The deckhand spoke again and continued to fondle the younger man's dark hair.
Hadrian frowned and knocked the hand away. The deckhand growled something, his hand reaching up again. Caledon tensed. But Hadrian remained eerily calm. He said something very quietly and looked straight into the other man's eyes.
The deckhand started as if confronted by something unexpected and hastily dropped his hand. Caledon's brows creased. Hadrian didn't move, simply stared at the other man, yet whatever was in his eyes was powerful. The deckhand murmured something then quickly backed away. He turned and stumbled down the pier until he came to the gangplank of his schooner. Caledon watched in confusion as the man scurried into the ship as though an angry mob were on his heels.
Now what, by the gods, had that been?
So thrown aback by what he'd witnessed, he neglected to conceal himself as Hadrian's gaze fell his way. The younger man's look of surprise and pleasure was quickly followed by wariness.
"Are you following me?" he demanded.
Caledon grinned to cover up his uneasiness. "Said I'd watch your back, didn't I?"
"I don't need you to," Hadrian replied impatiently.
"So I see." Caledon nodded towards the schooner. "What was that all about? He acted as though you're the carrier of some particularly foul plague."
Hadrian smiled faintly. "Maybe I am."
The small smile and the attempt at humor surprised Caledon. Hadrian had been too high strung to react this way to him earlier. Perhaps the younger man was becoming more comfortable in his presence. The thought was heartening.
Caledon took a step forward. "I hope you're not contagious," he said easily. Even with the setting sun at his back the slight widening of Hadrian's eyes was obvious as Caledon closed the gap between them. Caledon reached up and took a strand of dark hair between his fingers, for some reason wanting to mimic the deckhand's movements. Wanting to see if Hadrian's reaction would be the same, perhaps. "Because if you are contagious and it's transmitted through touch," Caledon murmured, gazing down at the younger man, "we may have a problem."
The grey eyes watched Caledon warily. "Why is that?"
Caledon stroked the silky lock of hair. "Because I want to touch every inch of you."
"You--" Hadrian dropped his eyes, a fierce blush spreading over his cheeks. The length of hair between Caledon's fingers trembled. When had Caledon last made someone tremble without a touch? The reaction made him feel like the land's most potent lover. They hadn't done anything together yet. What would happen when they did? Caledon's skin broke out in tingles. He vowed to find out even if it killed him.
Hadrian took a step back, his hair slipping from between the mercenary's loose grasp. "Caledon," he began, his tongue struggling around the unfamiliar name, "I don't need you following me. I'm well able to take care of myself."
"Yes, you never answered how you do that." Caledon studied him. "What are you, a mage in disguise? Or worse, a sorcerer?"
Hadrian laughed thinly. "Would that be so bad?"
Caledon thought of his thief friends, Gam and Lio, who had been cursed by a sorcerer. "It would be a considerable disappointment," he replied drolly.
Something passed quickly over Hadrian's face. He looked away before Caledon could positively identify it. Caledon caught a handful of hair again, wanting badly to use the grip to bring the other man closer. But he only cupped the dark strands, letting them pool in his palm like black ink. "You're too fair to be a sorcerer," Caledon declared, rubbing his fingers together over the inkiness. "All the sorcerers I've ever encountered must have inadvertently misused their magick because gods, were they ugly. Hideous, really." He shuddered melodramatically.
Hadrian stared at him a moment, then broke into laughter. "That is the most ignorant thing I have ever heard anyone say," he said around his laughter. "Not all sorcerers are ugly."
"Really?" Caledon said, debating. "Unless you've one to show me who can change my mind I'm sticking by my opinion. Ogres, all of them."
Smiling, Hadrian shook his head, his hair slipping free of Caledon's light grasp. The mercenary sighed at the loss. Hearing it, Hadrian gave a mystified smile. "I wish I understood the fascination with my hair. So many people seem to want a handful of it."
Caledon cocked a head as if considering. "Because it's clean."
Hadrian's face registered confusion. "What?"
"Well, you don't have lice that I can see. And so far no fleas... Quite an oddity in Rhiad, in case you hadn't noticed." His smile matched Hadrian's. "I consider myself an exception to the lot, of course."
Hadrian's light laugher followed Caledon as he moved past the younger man to the end of the pier. As though it were something he did every day, Caledon sat down upon the wood, letting his legs dangle over the side.
He could feel Hadrian hesitate beside him, uncertain whether to join him or continue looking down. "So that's your explanation?" the younger man asked. "You've a fascination with cleanliness?"
Caledon tilted his head back, resting its weight on his shoulders as he looked up. "You've hair the color of shadow, Hadrian. I'm rather intimate with the darkness myself. I'm drawn to it." And to you. Their eyes held for a heartbeat and Caledon thought he saw a darkening of the grey depths. "Come down here," he said, facing the water again, "you're hurting my neck."
Caledon gazed out at the rippling waters of Blackfell Bay, at the ribbons of purple and mauve that twisted over the surface. He realized he was holding his breath in anticipation of what Hadrian might do. He relaxed as Hadrian carefully lowered himself beside him a good arm's length away.
"I've heard that my mother had hair so pale it was nearly white," Hadrian said tentatively.
"That explains your complexion," the mercenary replied, letting his eyes drift over the other man's pale skin.
A stubborn frown creased the younger man's lips. "It makes me odd," Hadrian argued, kicking his feet over the water. "People stare at me."
Caledon shook his head, amazed at the other's naiveté. Hadrian sounded more than sheltered, he sounded cloistered. Though he was the son of a wealthy land owner and surely the target of many a female hoping to make a good marriage, Caledon would wager his next meal that Hadrian had never even been kissed. Now there was a travesty worth amending. "People stare at you, yes. But not for the reasons you think, love."
Hadrian ducked his head in embarrassment. Caledon was entranced.
"May I -- may I ask you something?" Hadrian said hesitantly.
Caledon tried to catch his eye but the grey gaze was skittish. He turned to study the sunset instead. "Of course."
Without the pressure of Caledon's gaze, Hadrian was able to look at the mercenary's profile. "Why are you here? Why... with me?"
Because you are the most fey creature I have ever met in my life, Caledon thought to himself. You have a beauty to weaken my knees and yet you are unaware of it yourself.
But such words might have scared the other man away so he said instead, "I find you refreshing. The work that I do can be ugly and dark. It's enough to make a man lose interest in that which used to make him happy. You, on the other hand, are the opposite of all of that. At the risk of sounding like I'm courting you" -- which I am -- "you are the light that someone like me, yearns for."
He felt Hadrian's eyes roam his face like shy fingers. "If being a mercenary bothers you so much, why do you do it? You seem intelligent and your skills with weaponry must be considerable. Why not something else?"
Caledon shrugged, about to say something simple and only half-true to end this particular topic, then hesitated. "Do you really want to know?" He turned to look at the other man.
Hadrian nodded. "I do.”
But Caledon shouldn't have met the other's eyes, because now he was able to see the earnestness in those wide grey pools. Those eyes wanted to know Caledon's secrets. They encouraged him to shed his concealing cloak of humor and admit that being a mercenary had not been his choice in life. That it had been something done out of a painful sense of righteousness. It was a righteousness that burned within him yet, but it grew dimmer with each morally questionable job he accepted. I do it for the coin, had always been his stock response, thrown out with a disarming grin. But Hadrian's eyes didn't accept that. They wanted him to tell that truth. And the truth was that Caledon had taken up the sword long ago to conquer an injustice. Now he wielded it only because he did not know what else to do. Though he would never admit it aloud, in his heart he feared he was no better than those who fought for the Guild.
But to admit that to Hadrian was pointless. There were other ways to woo a potential lover than to resort to the cold, hard truth no matter how well it might be received.
He reached out and wrapped dark hair around his fingers. The touch made Hadrian draw back some, like a tide that had reached too far up the beach. The demands of his eyes retreated as well.
"I haven't the imagination for anything better," Caledon told him lightly. "What I do keeps me in ale and whores and that's as much as I could ask for."
Disappointment shadowed Hadrian's eyes. "That's not what you were going to say," he said softly.
Caledon stared at him, feeling unexpectedly vulnerable. He didn't like it. The corner of his mouth twitched into a familiar smirk. "Ale and whores, love, really are all I care about. I'm very easy to please." He let his eyes roam the younger man's body. "You'll find that out soon enough, I think."
Hadrian frowned slightly. "I - I need to take my supper," he told Caledon, rising to his feet. "Please don't follow me. I don't need a guard."
Caledon dropped his hand. His fingers felt rough and scratchy against his palm now that the silk of dark hair was gone. "If it bothers you I'll stay away," he said quietly. He felt as though he had made a mistake just now and that bothered him. What was it about Hadrian that left him so unsettled?
At the mercenary's capitulation, Hadrian's shoulders sagged slightly with relief. "Thank you."
Caledon tilted his head back once more, his easy smile in place as though it had never left. "You're welcome."
The hint of a shy smile ghosted Hadrian's lips. He moved to leave.
"Please see me tonight, Hadrian."
The younger man's step faltered. More nervous than he liked, Caledon turned to stare at the melting sun that was now but a sliver of gold on the horizon.
"I don't think that's a good idea."
Caledon let the gold fill his eyes. "Please, Hadrian."
He hadn't meant to make it sound so entreating, but the inadvertent honesty worked as a lie might not have.
"Perhaps," Hadrian murmured. He said it quickly, as though needing to say it before his resolve left him.
Caledon watched the sun sink, listening to the other man hurry away. He sighed and closed his eyes. In his heart weighed something he had not felt for many seasons. It was hope. It felt odd.
~~~~~
He'd wasted his coin on supper, Hadrian thought. He should have known better than to try to eat while his stomach churned with anxiety. He hadn't been able to force more than a tiny morsel of bread between his lips before he'd given up the attempt. Ah, well. How was he to know? He'd never felt this way before in his life.
The Fickle Harper Inn was a muted hum behind him. Occasionally the door would open and the loud sounds of conversation and the flute would spill out into the empty street. But mostly it was quiet as Hadrian stood before the doors of the stable; just the tiny rustle of rodents scurrying through the hay and the pounding of his heartbeat, surely the loudest sound in Rhiad.
He didn't know what he was doing here. If his father found out, well... it would be unpleasant. This trip to Rhiad wasn't supposed to be a time for fulfilling personal curiosities no matter how demanding.
But you may never get this chance again.
And that was the reason he was here. Caledon was interested in him. It was so inconceivable to Hadrian that he knew he'd be a fool to pass up this rare opportunity. Not to mention the fact that Hadrian couldn't fight his own attraction for the mercenary. Caledon was the most handsome man he had ever seen. But that didn't completely explain the attraction. There was more to the man. Regret behind the bravado. Caledon had been close to sharing a secret with him and Hadrian had felt special because of that. He wanted to learn more.
Learn more of a carnal nature too. He was aware of the particulars of congress between a man and a woman. But what about between a man and a man? And although he understood the physical mechanics of the act -- which made him hot to think of it -- he hadn't comprehended the feeling that came with it. Now though, he was beginning to.
It was that wild, fluttery feeling in his stomach. It was the strange surge of blood to his lower body that left him feeling faint and exhilarated at the same time. It wasn't love. He understood that love was an emotion he might never come across in his life. But what he was feeling was something almost as potent. It was lust.
Lust made his hand shake as he pushed the doors aside and peered into the darkness of the stables. It made his breath short as he slid the doors shut behind him and waited for his eyes to adjust. He was scared. He was excited. It was all he could do not to jump out of his skin when Caledon's voice drifted over him from out of the darkness.
"I was afraid you wouldn't show."
So was I.
A hand found in him the dark, the same calloused palm that had cradled his hand earlier in the day. It now enfolded his own in a familiarity that made Hadrian's cheeks hot. He let himself be led to the end of the stables. At the last stall, Caledon opened the door and gently tugged Hadrian inside. A black mare occupied the stall, snorting softly.
"This is Isaleyn," the mercenary said fondly. "My little girl." Wide cracks in the stable walls allowed enough moonlight inside to highlight Caledon's profile as he leaned in towards his horse. "Isa, love, this is Hadrian."
Caledon brought their hands up and pressed Hadrian's palm to the silky neck of the horse. The mercenary's hand settled atop his.
The feel of the horse was reassuring to Hadrian. When he began stroking her neck Caledon's hand followed him, his larger fingers slipping between Hadrian's. It was oddly intimate but not in a way that left him feeling uneasy. It was simply... pleasant.
"She's lovely," Hadrian murmured, his hand tingling from the contrasts of Isa's cool, sleek hair and Caledon's warm, rough skin. He smiled when Isa swung her head around, a brown eye rolling towards him as if she'd understood the compliment. "How long have you had her?"
"Since she was a filly. She's my baby, aren't you, girl?" The coo of Caledon's voice might have sounded humorous under different circumstances. Hadrian found himself becoming slightly jealous.
"You've taken wonderful care of her," Hadrian said. "She is a prize, truly."
He felt the mercenary shrug. "Yes, well, as much as I love her it wouldn't do for others to see me trying to sneak her into my bed," he said with a grin. "A horse is only good for so much. Then you need to look elsewhere for your company."
This last was said in a lowered voice, close to Hadrian's ear. A tremble in Isa's skin was transmitted through his hand to Caledon's. Or was it the other way around? Hadrian was beginning to grow a little dizzy.
"Is this -- is this all you wanted to show me, then?" he asked faintly.
The hand disappeared from atop his. Hadrian shut his eyes, regretting his forwardness. He didn't know how to play this game, obviously. Should he have said nothing and allowed the other man to control the conversation? He didn't know. Yet again, he cursed his ignorance in such matters.
But Caledon hadn't left him. In fact the mercenary was closer than before, pressing up against Hadrian's back. Shocked, Hadrian could only continue to stroke the horse unthinkingly as an arm slid around his waist from behind.
"I'm trying to make you comfortable," Caledon murmured against his ear. Hadrian sucked in his breath as soft lips hummed against the outer shell of his ear. "I know you're inexperienced. I don't want to scare you off by moving too fast. I thought meeting Isa would be a nice start to getting to know me better."
Hadrian summoned up a touch of indignation. "I'm not as green... as green as you think." He tried not to moan when the lips at his ear drifted lower to his neck.
"No?" Caledon smiled against his skin. "Then does that mean someone has done this to you before?" Scorching heat seared the side of Hadrian's neck as Caledon opened his mouth and ran his tongue over Hadrian's skin.
Hadrian nearly jumped out of the other man's arms in shock. Oh, gods! his frazzled brain cried. What is he doing? But he liked it. Oh, yes. So he forced himself to stammer out a panted, "Y-yes. Of course I've.... oh, of course I've -- someone's done that to me."
The heated tip of Caledon's tongue ran a sinuous trail up and down the side of his neck. When it slid down the junction between his neck and shoulder Hadrian's fingers and toes curled. He had to force the digits flat upon Isa's neck. He could feel himself shaking as Caledon continued to lick him. Lick him. By the gods, he'd never imagined anyone doing that to him. It felt so good, that sleek wetness tickling him and yet not. The sheer wetness of Caledon's tongue and its odd firm strength against Hadrian's neck were making the blood drain from his head and fall to his nether parts.
Caledon's breath cooled the moisture on Hadrian's skin. "And I suppose this is nothing new to you either?" Sharp teeth sunk into the flesh of Hadrian's shoulder, right where it met his neck. Hadrian gasped and then bit his lip to cover up the sound.
His vision was going blurry. He tried to concentrate on the sight of his hand, pressed almost desperately against the side of Caledon's horse. Just brush Isa. Brush Isa. He made himself move. Watching his own pale hand stroke up and down the dark hair of the horse helped to ground him somewhat.
"You've done all of this, then?" Caledon asked in a husked whisper.
Oh, but that voice threatened to undo him again. "Yes," Hadrian panted, feeling himself shiver despite the flush of heat that was blazing throughout his body. "All of... gods, all of it."
Caledon's head lifted from Hadrian's neck. The arm around his waist squeezed almost reassuringly, then dropped away. Hadrian's breath hitched with disappointment but Caledon continued to speak, echoing his words with actions.
"So if I turned you around," the mercenary continued to whisper as he gently urged Hadrian to turn to face him, "and pressed you back against my horse, giving you nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide--" his grin showed whitely in the dim lighting, "--you wouldn't fight me because you've done this before." Hadrian stared up at him helplessly, knowing his face was aflame and that he was panting too loudly to disguise it. His body was erect with newfound need and he ached -- oh, how he ached.
"Yes," Hadrian whispered breathlessly.
Caledon stepped closer and the space between them vanished. Backed against the unyielding body of the mercenary's horse, Hadrian had nowhere to go. He found he wanted it that way.
Fingertips glided down the side of his cheek. He shut his eyes, trembling and not caring that Caledon would be able to feel it. He tensed in expectation when Caledon leaned forward. But all the mercenary did was rub his roughly stubbled cheek against Hadrian's, letting his breath fan the younger man's ear.
"You're more experienced than I thought."
Hadrian hesitated before finally doing what he'd longed to do since meeting Caledon. He raised his hands in the darkness and lightly grasped the other man's shoulders. Muscles as firm as stone shifted beneath his palms. The touch made his fingers buzz with the need to feel more. But he was afraid. Afraid of what he wanted, afraid of asking for it. Caledon calmly erased his fears. The older man reached up and urged Hadrian's hands behind the back of the mercenary's neck. Hadrian smiled weakly in the darkness. This was so much better. Now he could feel the heat of Caledon's skin and he burned just as Hadrian did.
"Since you've done it all before," Caledon murmured in a low, throaty purr against Hadrian's cheek, "you won't mind if I do this."
And Caledon leaned back and kissed him.
Kissed. Never before in his life and never again would it be like this. Hadrian knew it in his soul. He whimpered, not caring that it revealed his inexperience or his need and desperation. This was magickal. Caledon was kissing him so tenderly... Hadrian had never dreamed it would be so soft, so gentle that it left him in a quivering puddle at the other man's feet. Lips coaxed his own. Utterly trusting, he opened to Caledon, allowing a curious tongue to slip forward and enter his mouth in an intimate joining.
He moaned at the tender invasion, losing the strength to stand. Caledon caught him, pressing him back against Isa. Even the great horse's immense heartbeat could not drown out the one stampeding wildly in Hadrian's chest. His senses spun. He could hardly breathe. It was almost frightening how quickly and completely he was losing control of his body and yet it was exciting. To give in to Caledon's knowledgeable caresses, to surrender himself to the other man's confidence, knowing that he was being led to a wondrous place... Never let this end, Hadrian thought dizzily. Never.
Caledon's tongue stroked over his own. It pumped across that wet flesh in an elemental rhythm that made Hadrian tighten his legs around a raging, pulsing need. Timidly, Hadrian let his tongue entangle with the other man's and at his first tentative foray Caledon moaned into his mouth. Hadrian nearly exploded at the sound. Caledon's passion. For him. Because of him. Hadrian's own moan eclipsed the other man's as he clutched helplessly at the back of Caledon's neck. He was so weak he feared he might collapse.
Caledon's mouth tore away from his to whisper, "Breathe, love. Breathe. I've got you." The hands around Hadrian's waist stroked him comfortingly. "You're doing fine, Hadrian. You're beautiful... so beautiful like this."
"Oh, Caledon," Hadrian panted. "I've never -- this is..." He couldn't finish the thought. There were no words to describe what he felt.
"I know, love, gods do I know." Caledon made a sound that to Hadrian's muddled senses sounded like quiet laughter. "Who would've believed it'd be like this, eh?" So low Hadrian almost missed it, the mercenary breathed, "Who could've guessed?"
Then he was back to kissing Hadrian again and there was no room left in Hadrian's consciousness for anything else. He held Caledon more boldly now, urging their mouths to mate more tightly. He wanted to climb into Caledon. He wanted to merge with the mercenary so that all Hadrian felt for the rest of his life was this.
All of the blood, all of the nerves in Hadrian's body collected in his mouth and in his groin. He didn't think it could get any better. It was impossible. But Caledon proved him wrong. One of the mercenary's hands slid from around his back. Hadrian was suddenly as sharply aware of the placement of that hand as he would have been a knife at his throat. As Caledon continued to plunder Hadrian's mouth, the mercenary's hand slid down the front of Hadrian's stomach. Hadrian opened his eyes. His breath stuttered. He suddenly knew another way in which this could be better. But would Caledon dare?
He would. Hadrian cried out against the other man's lips when a hot palm cupped him through his breeches. Skilled fingers curled around his swollen length, making Hadrian push forward mindlessly, moaning. Oh, gods, oh, gods, oh, gods. He clenched his eyes shut, no longer able to kiss Caledon back as passion flooded his system. Caledon rubbed him through the cloth, making him grow hotter, harder, until Hadrian was only standing because Caledon held him up.
"That's it, Hadrian. Let go for me. Feel it."
I could die right now.
It was becoming too much. Caledon was kissing his slack lips, murmuring endearments. Hadrian thought his entire body might burst from the too-powerful sensations drowning him. It was beginning to resemble pain. Then Caledon pulled his hand away.
"No..." Hadrian gasped, opening his eyes.
Caledon smiled down at him, looking pleased. But Hadrian found slight comfort in the mercenary's swift breathing. "I need to slow you down, Hadrian. You're like a wild horse running loose." Caledon bent and brushed his lips over Hadrian's. "But don't worry. I'm more than up to the challenge of taming you. We've a long night ahead of us, love. This is only the beginning."
Hadrian shuddered at the words. He let his eyes drift shut as Caledon met his mouth again. Only the beginning. Even if Caledon's words failed to be true it wouldn't matter. Caledon had already shown him enough wonders to last his lifetime. In the darkness of the stables, with the aromas of hay and horse sharpening his senses and Isa chuffing softly behind him, Hadrian returned Caledon's kiss eagerly. He would never forget this night, he vowed. When he returned to Shard's Point Isle and found himself once again walking the cold, somber halls of the castle, he would pull out this memory and relive it. Because tonight Caledon had shown him that there was another means of summoning magick beyond that which he had been taught. There was the magick to be found in a kiss.
CHAPTER THREE
He could see now that he had erred when he had first tried to label Hadrian.
Caledon had been fascinated by the other man's apparent inexperience, his naiveté. But the truth of the matter was that Hadrian was untouched -- untouched by affection, untouched by desire. How this had come to be, Caledon couldn't imagine. But he knew it to be true. He felt it in his bones.
Nothing else could explain why Hadrian literally melted beneath his caresses. Every touch Caledon made upon the younger man's skin left Hadrian trembling and breathless, his body both afraid of the sensation and straining for more. Why has no one done this before me? Caledon wondered as he eased open the stall door with his free arm wrapped firmly about Hadrian's back.