That sounded like adisaster. But he couldn’t imagine forming an actual connection with someone else right now. Just the thought of it was nausea-inducing. Perhaps after some time had passed, though Perian didn’t see how he was going to encounter anyone while banished to his estate. He certainly wasn’t going to go after someone whodidlive on his estate. They were all his employees, and just the thought ofthatmade him ill.
He couldn’t tell any of them the truth. If they turned on him, there was literally nowhere he could go, and if they all left, he wouldn’t be able to manage. Oh, he could do the basic cleaning and upkeep if he had to, but he’d run out of food, eventually, and if he couldn’t even go into town to order more? If no one would order it for him? They had the home garden, but Perian couldn’t live solely off that, not comfortably or well, certainly not once he was solely in charge of it.
It was a stupid situation, really, and he wasn’t quite sure if the Queen and Cormal had not thought about it, hadn’t cared, or if they’d planned it all too well. Could they really have been so cold-blooded as to set him up to attack people so that they would have an excuse to finish him off? Surely they wouldn’t risk other peoplelike that?
Or were they so convinced that this was his nature and it was inevitable that they thought they were minimizing the damage by containing him to his estate?
(Though really, if he was as… aseviland uncontrollable as they seemed to think, then why would he obey any of their edicts? But then, if he didn’t, he would be fair game for all the Mage Warriors and Warriors, and then the situation would once again be resolved. For the good of the people, presumably before Perian cut a swathe through them with his wicked ways.)
He tried not to think about it too often, because it was endlessly frustrating, but it was hardnotto think about it, because honestly, there wasn’t a lot to do around here, and Periandidn’tactually know what his future would bring. He didn’t feel out of control, but he was mindful of those feelings of restlessness that had occasionally driven him to the city in the past. What happened when he ignored that feeling? Did it go away? Did it get worse? Did he live the rest of his life feeling awkward—not at all a pleasant proposition, but much better than the notion that he could snap at some point.
He promised himself that it wouldn’t come to that, that he would stop himself before he hurt anyone, but there was part of him that wasn’t altogether certain that was possible, that didn’t know if there would come a point where he might be so out of control that he wouldn’t choose to stop himself.
He didn’tthinkso, but he didn’t know, because there was suddenly so little that hedidknow about himself. His whole life had suddenly turned inside out, and things he’d thought he knew had ceased to be true. He wasn’thuman. His father wasn’t his father. Once you struck those down, really, was there anything else? Those were the most fundamental parts of him, and they’d melted away like they’d never been.
What was left of him? What was left to be certain of?
Perian feared that there wasn’t a lot, but acknowledged wryly that he was about to have a whole lot of time for self-examination.
He desperately needed things to do.
After a week of castigating himself for every single thought about Brannal, he’d decided to be kinder to himself. Yes, it had all ended badly. Maybe Brannal had never been as invested as Perian had thought he was. But that couldn’t erase all the good times that Perian had had. It couldn’t erase the fact that ithadbeen the best time of his life, when he’d been happiest, when he’d had friends and a lover and so many moments of joy, even if there had been moments of pain, too.
Brannal had chosen to be Summus, and he’d picked that over Perian, but Perian had always known that was a hugely important part of who Brannal was. He’d loved that about him. How could he resent the man for being true to himself?
All right, he could, because there was a trembling, bruised heart in his chest that said that Perian would have picked Brannal, that he’dalwayspick Brannal, and it hurt that he wasn’t most important in return. But hedidunderstand it, as much as it pained him.
He’d never expected anything that had happened in the city—and now, the situation had changed again, with as much suddenness, but with a much less happy result.Hehad changed again, and it might take time to get used to that, to figure it out, but he would do it. He was stubborn enough to survive this. He was used to being alone, even if he didn’t like it very much. He could do it again.
The nights were the worst. The silence got evenmoresilent, and all the nights that he’d spent in Brannal’s bed echoed so very loudly. He’d never shared a bed here at home, and he could tell himself until he was blue in the face that this was normal, but his body rebelled. His heart rebelled. Even his mind politely informed him that this was not the status that it preferred, and could they not switch to that version where he had someone to cuddle up against and keep him warm and happy?
Yes, brain, he’d like that, too, but had it not noticed that there was a distinct lack of volunteers?
Hetriedto occupy himself and not just pine. He insisted on a picnic at lunch every day, taking it outside and lying out on a blanket and staring up at the sky, trying to find animals and letting himself imagine that Renny was doing the same. His gardener, Jenor, was no longer surprised to find Perian mucking about in the gardens. Evalon, his housekeeper, and Stallor, his cook, seemed to be resigned to the fact that he’d leave barely-eaten meals all round the house. They’d started ambushing him with small snacks, and somehow, thosewereeasier to eat.
It was hard now, but it would get easier. It had to.
So he started that picnic habit, not so far distanced from the sort of thing he normally did here, but with a happy connection to Renny and the time they’d spent together.
He made himself go out on rides and didn’t let himself think too much about Prince Horsey and how he would have been faster. He tried not to wonder what he would have thought of Perian’s home. He tried not to think about whether anyone was allowed toride him now.
Still, Perian had his own horses, and they were happy to see him, and they let other people take care of them, which was a good thing, because Perian had been gone for months. The gallops reminded Perian of this land he’d left behind. If he went fast enough, maybe there was a brief period where his thoughts couldn’t catch up with him.
He stayed away from the water, because it was getting colder, and he didn’t quite trust his concentration when it came to handling a boat or swimming. He did seem to lapse sometimes, realizing that he’d been lost in a daydream or haze of memories about the past. His horses could handle themselves, but boats needed direction.
He walked along the shore, though, and rambled through the hills. With the rides, the picnics, and the gardens, he whiled away hours of his time. He tried reading, but it wasn’t terribly productive. He seemed always to be imagining the book that Brannal had gifted him, or the terrible book Molun had borrowed out from the library at Summus’s direction, or the books in the Old Tongue that Renny thought were so very boring.
He decided it was a good thing, after all, that Brannal had never come here, that he didn’t have actual memories of the man in this place to tease him as he tried not to imagine the life that he could have had here with the man he loved.
His life here was different, and he was going to have to get used to it again. It would be the Earth Festival soon, and Perian would go sit on the beach alone, and he’d think about Arvus telling him that not every Mage needed to be ostentatious. He would have his own tiny ceremony and not think about the fact that under other circumstances, he would be enjoying it with them.
He couldn’t even go to the celebration in the little town near him. If he were ever to consider sneaking out, then it should certainly not be during a festival, when there was a concentration of people. If Mage Warriors or Warriors were looking, they might think he was going to feed. He was going to be questioning everything for the rest of his life. How was he going to explain to everyone year after year that he was never leaving again? And was that itchy restlessness going to get worse? Whatdidhappen if a carnalion didn’t feed?
Perian wished he had a lot more information. He was pretty sure his health and safety might depend on it.
But… maybethatwas something he could remedy. Would it be too dangerous to try to acquire more books on demons? He needed actual tomes full of information. The Mages at the Great Library might have some, Perian supposed. Hecouldwrite to them, but would they want to know why he wanted to know? Would Cormal inform themabout Perian? Was it worth the risk? They weren’t the ones who were usually hunters, but that didn’t mean they would take it well that a carnalion was trying to find out more about itself.
(Even for researchers, that might be a step too far.)
