”As is often the case, when two people share time together, they bond. I hadn’t intended to grow attached, and yet I did.” A smile showed in Dmitri’s voice. “Those were some of the simplest days of my life, talking to him and taking walks in the forest as he regained strength. He’d traveled the world over and seen many things. Told stories of his adventures.” Dmitri placed a splayed hand over his chest. “My heart didn’t stand a chance.”
“You… you loved him?”
“With all of my heart that my old love and the Father didn’t possess.”
“But you couldn’t be with him.”
Dmitri shook his head. “I wanted to. The Father knew I wanted to. In fact, I’d considered breaking my vows to be with him.” He faced away.
“What happened?”
“Demons hate hunters, for good reason. If they can’t destroy us, they hurt us how they can. The demons returned for him. I… I wasn’t there.”
Visions appeared in Martin’s head. If he didn’t let his tavernkeeper go, would that be Peter’s fate?
“Every day, I ask myself if he’d still be alive and happy if I’d just let him go, hadn’t acted on my feelings. Another part of me says I’d be a poorer man if I’d never known his love.”
Dmitri had acknowledged Martin’s nighttime forays to the tavern, and likely told this story as a cautionary tale.“You’d be surprised what I know.”
If Martin continued visiting the tavern, would he know Peter’s love one day? Would demons target Peter to hurt Martin?
He must stay away. Though his heart hurt at the thought, he must stuff his feelings down deep, distance himself, and focus on being a hunter for Peter’s sake.
Though the longing and sorrow might kill him.
When he opened his hand, a golden flame danced across his palm. Time to focus on magic, setting aside thoughts of the man with lighter hair hiding beneath a coating of dye, and intensely dark eyes.
If only Peter stopped haunting Martin’s dreams. And if only Martin could walk away, now that he’d found the man he’d despaired of ever seeing again. Even now, as he prepared to roam the streets in search of demons, he knew where his night would end.
Dmitri continued, “My lover was not a mage, so we couldn’t form a mage bond. Other mages would never have involved themselves so.”
“What’s a mage bond?” Martin never saw a reference to such in his books.
“In the land I’m from, mages formed pairs with complementary magic. Strong practitioners burn bright. Without an opposite to keep them grounded, their power grows wild. Unpredictable.”
“But I don’t have another mage to pair with.”
“Don’t you?”
Because, my little mage, now the time is right. Eyes kept closed will now open.
“Peter. You know of Peter.”
“My sect knew of Petran the moment he set foot in E’Skaara, just as we knew about you, Arkenn.”
“Wait. What? You knew about him? About us?”
“Yes, we did.”
Anger caught Martin in an iron grip. “For many seasons, I mourned the death of my friend. You knew he was alive and didn’t tell me?” He grasped the bottom of Dmitri’s hood and yanked him to his feet—and stood with an empty robe in his grasp.
He dropped the robe. Immediately, the robe rose from the ground, forming into Dmitri’s familiar shape.
Martin jumped backward, falling and scrambling away. “What did you do? How did you…”
“You have much to learn, Martin.” Dmitri held out his gloved hand.
Martin stared at the hand for a long moment, heart racing. Dmitri hadn’t simply disappeared, then reappeared somewhere else. Had he?
