Chapter One
“YouknowwhatIhave to do, right?”
The question came with no prompting as Taegan and Zorvut lounged together in their private study. On opposite ends of the custom chaise lounge that had just been completed for them a few days earlier, Zorvut’s much-longer legs stretched out and Taegan’s draped over them as he curled into his book. Their comfortable silence had only increased the casual intimacy between them, and Taegan raised a quizzical eyebrow when Zorvut spoke.
“What you have to do?” he repeated, lowering his book to meet his husband’s gaze. Though the first few weeks after they had been bonded a second time had been truly blissful, Zorvut had become more withdrawn and pensive as more news of war reached them. Taegan had sensed his worry and fear, though he was sure Zorvut had tried to shield as much of it as he could from the mental link between them. His serious, lost-in-thought expression had become quite familiar to Taegan, though there was a focus to him now that had not been there previously. “No, enlighten me.”
“I have to find my biological father. Maybe he can help me figure out how to control this magic,” Zorvut answered, and Taegan blinked in surprise. He had not been expecting that response. “If I can learn to use it, fight with it, maybe I could go and subdue my... the warlord. If I can best him, alone… The fighting would come to an end.”
Taegan frowned, setting aside his book.
“Traveling seems like one of the most dangerous things you could do right now,” he protested. “And besides, how would we even find this man? We know almost nothing about him, not even his name—”
“We do know his name,” Zorvut interrupted, shaking his head. “Tomlin Whitmore. That’s what my mother said. I’ve been...” He trailed off, a tinge of guilt leaking through their bond into Taegan’s head. “Well, I’ve been doing some research, you could say. He was a rather well-known bard. He even came through Aefraya once, though it was well before I was born. I’ve found out a few things.”
“Research? How so?” Taegan asked. Mostly, he was surprised Zorvut recalled the name—there was little of that night he remembered clearly.
“Well, bards mainly perform at taverns and inns, right?” he replied. “So I thought I would ask around the inns in town, and it turns out he had performed at a tavern called the Magenta Marigold once. The owner is an older fellow named Castien, and he told me what he knew.”
“The Magenta Marigold,” Taegan repeated, frowning. “Yes, I know it.”
“He said the last rumors he heard were that Tomlin Whitmore retired to a human settlement in the south of Autreth around five years ago, a port town,” Zorvut continued. “He didn’t know the name, but I looked over some maps, and I’m pretty sure it’s a village called Naimere.”
“Well, you really did do your research,” Taegan mused, glancing away. He was not certain why the discussion left him feeling so unsettled. “I don’t know, Zorvut. I understand why you wish to seek him out, but... Traveling is going to be so dangerous right now. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
Though affection came through the bond at that, Zorvut let out a bitter laugh.
“Unfortunately, I think the danger will find us regardless, my love,” he replied, shaking his head. Taegan grimaced—that was certainly true. Though they had been lying low, the war front seemed to draw ever closer to the castle, and even King Ruven appeared unsettled of late.
Part of Taegan wanted to protest; after all, who could say if this Tomlin Whitmore could—orwould—help them at all? Yet another part of him was loath to run from a fight. But he tamped down the thought and instead managed a slight smile.
“That’s true,” he agreed, reaching for his book once more. “Maybe we can talk with my father, see if there’s a way to get in contact with this mystery human.”
From the way his eyes flicked away, Taegan knew that was not the answer Zorvut had wanted to hear. But he could promise nothing more than that, and ultimately it would be the king’s decision if they could leave the castle grounds at all. He suspected Ruven would not want to let them out of his sight, not now.
“Shall I read to you?” he offered, and Zorvut’s expression softened from across the lounge.
“I would like that,” he replied, and they settled in closer together as Taegan began to read.
“Thank you for waiting for me,” King Ruven said brusquely as he strode into the meeting hall, where Taegan and Zorvut were sitting. “And I apologize for my tardiness. My discussion with the captain went longer than I anticipated.”
“That’s all right,” Taegan replied. They had only been waiting in the meeting hall for a few minutes, careful not to disturb the expansive world map laid out across the large table as they settled into their seats. The king had a pile of papers and books in his arms but set them down haphazardly on the map, sitting down across from them. His long, dark hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and he had obviously just pulled a clean robe over a wrinkled plain undershirt. The bags under his eyes betrayed the stress and lack of sleep he must have been suffering, but he offered them a smile as he sat down all the same.
“I’ve learned a few things I wanted to discuss with you,” the king continued. Taegan glanced over at Zorvut who briefly met his gaze. He could feel a strange mix of hesitance and anticipation coming from the half-orc’s end of the bond; he could not say why Zorvut was feeling the way he did, but he himself had been anxious ever since Ruven’s manservant had asked them to come speak with the king in the meeting room. Whatever Ruven wanted to talk about privately with them likely was not a positive turn of events.
“Go on,” Zorvut said after a moment as the king appeared to collect his thoughts.
“Well,” he said, looking down at his clasped hands on the table. “Orc forces continue to draw nearer to the capital. I had hoped that by keeping the both of you out of the public eye, tensions might ease off a bit, but this has not seemed to be the case so far.”
“We can fight,” Taegan interjected, and both Zorvut and his father’s heads swiveled to look at him. A pained expression came over the king’s face—Zorvut remained largely expressionless, but a tinge of surprise came through their bond.
“No,” Ruven replied sternly. “Taegan, I know you want to fight, but I’m not going to risk that. If the warlord is still pushing for the castle out of some misplaced hostility toward you and Zorvut, letting you get anywhere near them is the last thing I want.”
“I’ve trained all my life to fight,” he protested, but from Ruven’s expression, he already knew it was a fruitless battle. “To fight, not to run away.”
“And I’m sure they’ve trained to snatch you right off the battlefield and take you straight to the warlord,” the king snapped, then seemed to visibly stop himself, closing his eyes and taking in a long, measured breath. Taegan looked away in irritation, but couldn’t argue. In the end, his father was the king, and his overprotectiveness had the force of all of Aefraya behind it. When he met Zorvut’s gaze, the half-orc gave him a chagrined expression for a brief moment, and he knew Zorvut quietly agreed with his father. That did not come as a surprise.
“But the reason I wanted to talk to you,” Ruven continued, a carefully calm expression back on his face, “is that I am considering sending both of you away. I think you will both be safer further from the castle, further from any fighting that might draw near.”
