Was the noise too much? Lucian took another long gulp from the cup, but didn’t climb onto the bed even though his knees ached. He waited for another instruction from the general, but closed the book and held out the cup.
“Keep it,” the general said. “Rest.” The command soft, more pleading than a demand.
Lucian made to curl up on the floor and feign rest but the general sighed. “Bed please. I don’t wish to trip over you.”
Lucian stared at the bed with a mixed sense of wonder and dread. He never got to sleep on them, and rarely even was raped upon them anymore. Would the general touch him? Did he want that? His heart raised with uncertainty as he got up and made his way to the furthest side of the bed, set the cup and book on the side table, and carefully perched on the edge, facing the general.
The man didn’t move from his chair, and in the dark recesses of the edges of the room, Lucian could barely make out his outline. Lucian waited another few minutes before lying down, and resting his head on the soft pillow, shocked at how it felt to be on a gentle surface rather than a stone floor. He could barely hold his eyes open and the soft lulling rhythm of the general’s breathing, as faint as it was, rocked him to sleep.
Lucian jolted awake some time later, the many aches in his body gone, having had a true healing sleep for the first time in ages and he blinked into the dark of the room, seeking the general’s outline. He still sat in the chair, mostly unmoving, barely breathing. A tray of food sat at the end of the bed smelling of simple porridge, but making Lucian’s stomach knot. He hadn’t had real food since he’d arrived in Johi. They kept him starving to prevent him from regaining strength. Perhaps even to torment him for being half human and needing food at all.
“It’s not the most delightful dish I’ve ever seen,” the general said, making Lucian jump as he thought the male sleeping. “But it’s fresh and warm. Eat, please. And read another chapter?”
Lucian launched himself for the book, but the general huffed, making him freeze. Lucian turned and carefully made his way to the plate, book clutched in his arm, trapped at his side as though it were a life raft. He poked at the porridge for a moment, using the spoon to swirl it around. The texture thick and buttery rather than all water and grain. He took a tentative bite, letting it sit on his tongue and was shocked at the flavor. The burst of warm butter sweetness exploding in his mouth with a richness he’d never experienced.
“It’s always better with honey and cinnamon,” the general said. “They had no cinnamon, but they had honey. The next time I come, I’ll have someone bring cinnamon from the mortal realm.”
“Cinnamon?” Lucian wondered at the unfamiliar word. But he devoured the porridge and was surprised to find a cup of fruit juice beside the bowl, the sweetness a tangy flash on his senses. The food vanished, but he sighed, satisfied in a way he couldn’t recall feeling before. “Why are you being nice to me?” Lucian asked. He thought the man might lash out for him for asking, but he had to know. It was better to be prepared for the pain than swallow the betrayal of hope.
“I’d like for you to read.”
Lucian looked at the book again. “It’s a very strange book.”
“Hmm,” the general said.
“How much do you wish for me to read?”
“The next chapter.”
Lucian thought he could probably sit for hours and read now, as boring as it was, but said nothing. He meant to drop to his knees but the general waved him back to the bed.
“Get comfortable. Won’t it be easier to read if you’re not on tired knees?”
Lucian took the man at his word and sat on the bed, wrapped the robe around himself, and opened the book. His voice clearer as he began the second chapter, he paused when he got to the third, waiting for the general to stop him, but the shadow nodded for him to continue.
He wasn’t certain when the change happened, but at some point, while reading, he began to think of the words not as letters combined to make a language, but as the adventure that rose from the pages. Thoughts of magic, and romance flickering to life inside his head like a waking dream. Sometimes he’d pause, his mind running away with the questions of magic, or mayhem and wondering how possible it was.
“Are you tired?” The general would ask.
A time or two, Lucian responded in the positive, which would make the general request he rest again. Each time he woke to fresh food, and even a blanket of soft fur. It wasn’t until they reached near the end, several days of the rhythm: rest, read, eat, repeat, that Lucian paused to reflect on a scene when he answered no to the general’s question.
“I’m not tired,” Lucian said. “I am trying to understand what my mind shows me when I read. Like the story is inside my head.”
“The best stories live there forever,” the general said. “Sometimes we need to be reminded of them, but they stay in the dark waiting for a spark to reignite their memory.”
Lucian stared at the pages. “Someone you love, loves this book?”
“Yes,” the general agreed. “It’s about chosen family. Accepting ourselves for who and what we are, and finding love anyway.”
Lucian swallowed hard. “Is any of that real?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t like who I am at all,” Lucian admitted. Wrapped up in a blanket, warm and fed for the first time in years, he felt invincible. The man could tear him apart and break him again, but Lucian would enjoy the moment while it lasted.
“Is it because others don’t like you, or that you only see your self-worth through their eyes?”
Lucian blinked, processing the question. “I don’t know.” He thought another moment. “I’m not Onari enough…”
