Page 9 of The Scent of the Ideal

But Viau’s flaws, if they existed, were not for him to discover. They were not acquaintances, or friendly, or intimate friends like Viau was said to be with Bellai the playwright. Aedis was playing havoc with Rafi’s thinking. He should go meditate or sit in a garden if he could not get his mind to calm. The air would be refreshing and free of the scent of pink cherry blossoms if he went to a stone garden or the water garden.

Cherry blossoms did not even smell. Rafi was dreaming things now, and would wake with sweetness in his mouth and an embarrassing spill in his sheets again.

He turned to make his way from the Arms Room and as if the motion caught his eyes, Viau looked straight at him. His expression was distantly polite at first, then intent, gaze sweeping over Rafi and noticing every sweat-dark curl at his brow and against his neck, the flush surely making his freckles stand out, the front of his shirt opened and unlaced because Rafi had grown even hotter while watching Viau fight.

Rafi’s mouth was so dry he could not swallow. He curled his fingers into his palms and his toes inside his boots, and did his best to hide the shiver that went through his bones and blood and aer. He didn’t think he succeeded, not with someone as powerful as Viau.

Viau’s lips parted.

Something inside Rafi pulsed that had never pulsed before, not even with someone sucking his small nex cock entirely into their mouth, not even with his fingers pressed inside him. He went wet and shuddered for that and the stiffening that anyone would see if they cared to look.

Viau did. He lowered his head and unless his eyes were closed, he would see.

Rafi spun around in reflex, then turned again, dizzy, before seeing one arch leading outside and heading straight toward it without allowing himself even a glance back.

Chapter Four

The pulsing heralded the onset of his aedis, something Rafi realized far later than he should have. Then again, it was a realization that kept slipping from the forefront of his mind, so it might have occurred to him several times already. That did not comfort him as he shivered and sweated, hot and cold in equal measures.

He meant to move. That had been his plan after an hour of turning on his bed, stupidly convinced at the time that he must have a fever. The wet seeping through his pants had finally prodded him into action. Healers, he had remembered. He was supposed to go to the healers.

He wasn’t sure how far through the academy he’d gotten before the scent of flowers had lured him to an orchard.

After that, he could not recall much with clarity, which worried him until he got distracted by discomfort. He was tired. His legs ached stiffly, telling him he’d sat on his knees for too long. He considered getting up, but heat swept through him with another internal pulse and he had nothing to hide his shame if he stood, obviously hard, obviously wet. He hadn’t thought to bring a cloak. He hadn’t thought to bring anything. He wasn’t certain he had even put his boots on to walk outside.

The pulses had grown stronger and more frequent. Rafi bent forward, his forehead nearly against the ground as he panted and waited for the unfamiliar internal pressure to subside. He was aware enough to think he must look like an animal, and then to not care because sliding onto his hands and knees helped.

The air was chilly and sweet. He shivered and made soft nex sounds at the ground and tried not to reach inside his pants. He hadn’t always succeeded; his fingers were wet.

He should get up now, defy his needy body and do what must be done while his thoughts were clear enough. He should crawl to his feet and find the healers. To… to make it to… where he was supposed to be.

To Viau.

Except he didn’t know where Viau’s room was and finally fell back to sit on his knees and tip his head up to the sky and close his eyes. The blossoms around him were all he could find in the wind. That and….

“Katoh?” Rafi asked in a rough voice, then turned to see her with Laure and one of the younger students who must have been assigned to work in the gardens.

“You weren’t at the midday meal,” Katoh explained, unusually hesitant at the edge of the path before rushing forward to kneel next to him.

Rafi focused on her as she put an arm around him to help him stand.

“Here,” he tried to explain to her without moving. He nodded toward the dozens of trees and their countless blossoms, then frowned in befuddlement when she stopped trying to make him get up and instead pulled his head to her shoulder. The hand she ran over his back was wonderful. She said something to Laure, or Rafi assumed it was to Laure, because she shushed whoever it was when he tried to answer.

“Only a little longer,” she added, this time speaking to Rafi, sweet as she almost never was. “It’s strange at first, but it’ll get better.”

“In the rooms?” Rafi wondered, tongue thick, then gasped as another pulse rolled through him. “Sorry,” he panted when it subsided. “I must look….”

“You are exactly as you should be. Don’t think so much.” Katoh ran her fingers through his sweaty hair.

“Were you looking for me?” Rafi pressed anyway, raising his head. “I didn’t mean to….”

He trailed to silence as a new form came into view at the end of the path.

Viau.

Laure was there too at Viau’s elbow but Rafi’s attention did not stray from the tall miné dressed for travel in a long cloak and coat whose gaze was locked on Rafi.

Viau had been caught on his way elsewhere, Rafi worried to himself—or aloud; he couldn’t be sure which. The wind lifted the end of Viau’s hair, dared to send a few strands into his face. Viau brushed them aside carelessly as he came forward a few steps only to stop again. He took a deep breath. His dark eyes did not leave Rafi.