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Chapter 1
“Lady Caris is a magician,” Emrys said, contentedly draped atop Aric in the aftermath of enthusiastic flexible pleasure, in their too-small tent. Desultory rain dripped onto oiled canvas, overhead; their second night in the Silfren Holt forest was quiet and green and persistently damp. “I can’t tell whether she knows.”
Aric considered what he and Em had just been doing, versus their present employer’s possible magic, and said, “Were you worried about her eavesdropping, or thinking about her while seducing me?” It was mostly a joke, especially the second part.
It made Em laugh, feather-light and satisfied. “Neither. I was thinking about magic. And me. And then I remembered I needed to tell you.”
“Magic, and you.” Aric ran a hand through Em’s hair—short, ruffled, it brushed like friendly ink along his skin—and considered how to ask the question on the tip of his tongue. He hadn’t worked it out well enough, three days in. He’d noticed enough to notice, because he knew Em pretty well by now. But Emrys hadn’t brought it up either, and that might’ve been a message too.
He said, instead, “Are you warm enough?” and stuck a hand out for a fold of wool. The tent was nicely outfitted—Lady Caris had money, and paid her hired guards well, which was in part why Aric and Em were here—but designed for portability. Aric had had to figure out an angle that let his feet and his head stay dry, with some negotiation. Fortunately Em was tiny, not to mention magical.
“For now.” Emrys sat up, kitten-flexible, and handled brief clean-up, with a cloth and what Aric suspected was some equally magical assistance. The warmth brushed between his thighs, cleansing, comforting in a way that had less to do with Em’s cock recently inside him and more to do with the ease of the care, the simplicity of it: Em loving him, matter-of-factly, the way they fit.
He propped himself up on an elbow, shook his head to get a long blond braid out of the way. Watched Emrys: smooth tanned skin, cool winter-grey eyes, the compact slim muscles of someone who knew how to throw a knife or bandage a wound or banish ghosts from a haunted mountain pass. A few scattered scars caught light from the small contained oil-lamp: a kelpie-bite, a line from bespelled iron, a slice across one finger.
Not many scars, because only iron or enchantment or Em’s own doing would leave them, across half-fairy skin. But some. More, over the last two years and six months, riding at Aric’s side.
The light slid across one of the oldest, thin and long and white along Em’s forearm, when he turned back to Aric. Being kind, the flicker of gold fell away without lingering. Em paused to throw Aric a smile, glorious as moonlight.
Emrys at the moment had opted for a very definitively male body, still petite because Em couldn’t do much about the height and weight, but with noticeable shifts to jawline, hips, that extremely luscious cock. He came back over and tucked himself into blankets at Aric’s side, quiet, radiating satisfaction.
Aric thought that was satisfaction. Certainly about what they’d just been up to—his body hummed pleasantly with aftermath, and he knew Em had enjoyed that. But that was, in a tangled complicated way, sort of the problem.
He went back to playing with the fluffy spikes of Em’s hair. Emrys all but purred. Aric said, “Did you want to tell me, then? About our employer?” and meant, did you want to tell me about you? How you’re feeling? I know you said you’d be fine, and I think you are, or at least you’re not NOT fine; but you did the shapeshift the second you came in and you fucked me breathless and you haven’t said a word about it…
“Mmm. She either knows and is extremely good at covering up her own power, or she doesn’t know and she’s got excellent natural shields.” Em yawned. “I love your hand doing that. My personal vote would be the former.”
“Because you’re cynical about wealthy cloth merchants, about other magicians, or about humans in general?”
“All of the above. People like having advantages, and of course it would be. But then I have to wonder, why hire us? If she wants the magic to stay secret, that’s an incredibly stupid decision.”
Emrys on occasion wasn’t subtle; Aric let out a huff, entertained. “Do you not like her?” Lady Caris Ayling could’ve had her pick of bodyguards and hired mercenaries for her travel south, given her wealth and rewards for good service; in fact, Aric reflected, she had.
She’d wanted the Storm-Wielder and the Shadow. The best, she’d said. She would pay for that. Aric and Em had needed money and had been planning to head south in any case. He’d agreed, after some discussion with Emrys.
“I do, actually. As much as we can like someone who insists on an entirely female company of guards, and banished you and Pedr to be outriders.” Em lifted an eyebrow, lazily amused, to add, “She explained to us yet again, while you were out being good scouts this morning, that women are more reliable and less prone to emotional outbursts.”
“Clearly Lady Caris never met Ruby the Nine-Fingered and that giant battle-axe.”
“Sometimes I wonder about your life before you met me.” Slim fingers wandered over Aric’s skin, hand absently trailing lines, muscles, scars, blond fuzz.
“She never threw the giant battle-axe at me,” Aric observed, “I knew better than to beat her at cards,” and kissed the top of Em’s head. Em’s ear, at least the one he could see, had altered as well: more pointed, sharper, less human. More relaxed. “I love you, you know.”
“I know. I love you, of course.” The fingers tapped a quick rhythm over Aric’s ribs. “I’m handling it okay.”
“I’m not asking whether you’re sure. I’m just…here. If you want to tell me.”
“I might be asking it of myself.” Em made a face. “I didn’t realize it’d feel so…restrictive.” He wriggled closer to Aric again, nestled into muscles and thick blankets. The lamp dimmed: not magic, only designed to be brief. “This feels so much better. That wasn’t too rough, was it? Me, you, us?”
“No. I love you doing what you want with me, you know that.” He hugged Em tighter. “I’m not opposed to walking out on a contract. If it’s hurting you. We can find something else.”
“We need the money, and I can live with it. It’s not hurting me, it’s just…” Em flicked a hand through the air, put it back on Aric’s chest. “Like turning off a…a piece of me. Not for good, not completely—I know I could move between aspects if I truly couldn’t stand it any longer—and I know I agreed, when she told us up front that she wanted me in strictly human female form, it’s not as if it was a surprise, in the contract…”
“But you hate it.”
“Hate is too strong a word, but also yes.” Em hid his face in Aric’s shoulder for a moment, and muttered, “It’s prickly.”
“I wanted to ask how you were doing, yesterday.” Em had been in a taut-bowstring mood. Apologizing for it, but tense. “Should I have asked?”
