“At least it wasn’t the pants this time.”
Hadrian laughed, the sound vibrating against Dorian’s chest. “That is true. I am running out of those. It would be a terrible shame if you had to go naked.”
Dorian propped himself up and looked down at him. They were both smiling now.
“I should make us breakfast,” Hadrian said.
“More vegetables?” Dorian groaned.
“Don’t complain. They are good for you. I will get the sunbell for tea though. That will help. There’s no sugar. I had some in my pack, but it got wet so I had to throw it out, so we’ll have to drink it plain like savages.”
“Stay here,” Dorian said as he stood up and put his pants back on.
“Don’t go out there without me.”
Hadrian scoffed. “I am capable of going fifty feet without a guide.”
“Stay here,” Dorian said more firmly over his shoulder. He went to the well room and cleaned himself up quickly and returned with a wet rag. Hadrian was still sprawled on the bed, completely naked. His sleek body stretched out, one long pale leg over the side.
Dorian resisted the urge to remove his own clothes and crawl back in beside him. Instead, he knelt beside the bed and ran the cloth over Hadrian’s stomach and chest. He jumped and shivered at the cold.
“Sorry,” Dorian said, finishing as quickly as he could. “I should have thought to warm it.”
“Don’t be silly,” Hadrian laughed. “I don’t need special treatment. I’ve handled far worse.”
“I have no doubt. But you shouldn’t have to.”
10
Hadrian did wait for Dorian before going outside. Not because he needed the protection. He’d been taking care of himself for years. And not because he wasn’t capable of watching for soldiers. He was quite capable of being quiet and paying attention when it was important, despite what people thought. He waited because he knew Dorian enjoyed being outside, and it would be good for him, even for a moment.
And maybe he liked the concern. A little.
They gathered the bowl of slightly withered sunbell leaves and the few apples that remained on the tree, and made their way back inside without any issues. The empty fields looked lonely and sad with their high grasses and wandering weeds still under a heavy dew.
Back inside, Hadrian warmed water for tea while Dorian sliced the apples and tossed them with the meager herbs they had left. They ate sitting side by side on the bed, cups of tea at their feet.
They talked of ordinary things—foods they missed, memories of cities or towns the other had never seen—not of war or death or the dark things that had dominated most of their lives. Even so, a heaviness sat behind every word and every look.
When they had their fill, they worked together to fill the copper tub. It wasn’t big enough for both of them. Hadrian probably still could have made it work, but one of them beingclothed and watching was the smart thing to do. So they took turns washing in slightly warmed water.
Unfortunately, Dorian came out of the well room, still damp and with nothing but his sheet slung low around his waist to ask Hadrian a question about clothes. Hadrian saw this as an unfair provocation, and they found themselves in bed again—both naked—regardless of what the smart thing might have been, exploring each other with hands and tongues, exchanging lingering kisses and eventually mind-blowing blowjobs.
They lay together in the narrow bed for a long time after. This time touching on wishes and dreams while they held each other. But even that was diluted to broad strokes and generalities. For Hadrian the future had once been set in stone. There were things he’d wished for, but they were small and always wound around reality—around war. Now, though, the future was a blank space filled with uncertainty and emptiness. He wanted so much more since meeting Dorian—more than he ever thought possible—but all of it was further out of reach than it ever had been.
Eventually their talk faded with the afternoon sun. They ate again, and this time there was less talk. There were fewer smiles too. Hadrian found his mind wandering often, but it was Dorian who finally faced their reality and broke the spell.
“You are rested enough to heal me now?” he asked, staring into his empty tea cup.
“I…” Hadrian had the urge to say no, but that was silly. You could not avoid the inevitable by ignoring it. “I am. More than enough, probably. Your wounds shouldn’t take much magic from me, just make me a little tired is all—I’m used to expelling a lot in a short time. If I had one of Sylin’s potions, I could probably do it without even needing a nap.”
“Who is Sylin?”
“Oh, he’s a magic user. One of the few not in the actual army. Because he makes potions. We don’t get a lot of them because it’s basically just him and some helpers, so what he makes is really regulated. I used my last one days before I found you. I’ve heard he makes all kinds of things. Not just stuff to keep you on your feet after using too much magic. That could just be a rumor, though. He’s sort of famous and definitely not someone I get to talk to. I’ve seen him from a distance a couple of times in the capital. He’s…” Hadrian felt his cheeks warm. “Interesting.”
“Interesting?” Dorian said, raising an eyebrow.
Sylin was ridiculously attractive, and he knew it. He flaunted it. He wasn’t the type of man Hadrian usually liked to look at—it had been a long time since he’d done much looking at anyone before Dorian—but he wasn’t blind either.
