I like it, he’d been about to blurt out,I like you. And even if he hadn’t finished it, that was surely more comprehension, more relief, in the healer’s too-expressive eyes.
“Good,” he murmured, as his hand slowly slid down to Kesst’s head, easing with breathtaking gentleness against his hair. “Then lie down, will you?”
And oh, Kesst could only nod, obey, drink up that beautiful touch, those beautiful eyes. And that was all he knew as he drifted away again, into the safe, soft sweet darkness.
7
To Kesst’s genuine amazement, the healer survived through the next day, and the next, and the next.
It certainly helped that Grimarr had stuck him well out of Kaugir and Skald’s way down here, and that he’d made his own personal endorsement of the healer very, very clear. Grimarr had also marched down a steady rotation of previously valuable fighters who’d been suffering from various ailments — Ezog with his blown-out knee, Sigarr with his bad shoulder, Thorvald with his chronic shortness of breath — and had apparently made large public to-dos over their miraculous recoveries.
And itwasmiraculous, Kesst could readily admit now. A gift. And rather than the creeping discomfort and abject boredom he ought to have felt upon being stuck in Ka-esh hell for days on end, he’d found himself spending bizarre amounts of time just lying there in his bed, and watching the healer work. Tasting his magic, drinking up his scent, listening to him speak.
And in it, Kesst had learned rather a lot about his doomed, shockingly gifted saviour. The healer was often blunt and curt, but never cruel. He rarely responded to short tempers or personal attacks, but instead ignored them, and said only what needed to be said. And even when faced with some of the most terrifying orcs Kesst knew — most of them in various states of rage, pain, or humiliation — he remained his same stubborn self, betraying not even the faintest trace of intimidation or fear.
“No, you can’t go back to the arena yet,” the healer was currently snapping at Silfast, a huge, hairy Bautul fighter who was pooling large quantities of fresh blood onto the floor. “And if you even try, I will knock you out, and keep you down here for aweek.”
Silfast’s snarled, shouting reply was nearly enough to make Kesst’s hair stand on end — but the healer just shrugged, and raised his hand to Silfast’s head. And Kesst couldn’t help a choked, genuine laugh as Silfast’s eyes promptly rolled back, and he collapsed onto the bed behind him with a deeply satisfyingthunk.
At the sound of Kesst’s laugh, the healer shot a wry glance over his shoulder toward him — and then, much to Kesst’s secret delight, he turned and strode over, too. As he so often did whenever Kesst laughed or spoke, though since that first day, he’d been nothing but strictly professional. Speaking to Kesst only of wounds and rest and healing, and whatever ungrateful orc was currently giving him the most grief.
“How are you feeling today?” he asked now, as his big hand settled to Kesst’s head — without asking, Kesst’s gratified brain pointed out — where it perhaps even lingered a little before pulling away again. “Any pain?”
“Still no, healer,” Kesst replied, fluttering his lashes as he smiled up at the healer’s face. “As you probably already knew, being the devious master magician that you are.”
He was rewarded by a faint but unmistakable flush, stealing up the healer’s cheeks. “That’s a bit rich foryouto say,” he countered, his bottom lip slightly jutting out. “You don’t think I haven’t noticed the old magic all over you too, Ash-Kai?”
He softened that highly unnerving statement with a gentle brush of his hand against Kesst’s bare chest, his magic flaring out with such deep, delicious familiarity — and Kesst covered his reflexive gasp with a cough, and a hopefully flippant toss of his hair over his shoulder.
“It’s Kesst,” he corrected the healer, purposely sidestepping that question about his magic. “My name. You might as well start using it, since I essentially owe you my entireexistenceright now.”
The healer snorted, gave another wry shake of his head. “You don’t owe me anything,” he said firmly. “And I have a name too, you know.”
Right. The warmth was pooling and shuddering, curling up in the ongoing tendrils of that beautiful magic, in the meaning behind those words.I have a name too.
Efterar, was the healer’s name. Efterar. And he wanted Kesst —Kesst!— to use it.
“Your name is preposterous,” Kesst informed him, far louder and faster than he meant. “I mean, was your father a five-hundred-year-old swamp-dweller who never learned common-tongue? Because I guarantee you, it wasn’t your poor mother who saddled you with that thing.”
The healer —Efterar— was looking rather taken aback, and far, far too late, Kesst winced, and snapped his fool mouth closed. “I mean,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut, “it’s very — unique. Just — an unusual choice, for an orc who doesn’t even speak Aelakesh.”
But curse him, that was even worse, what the hell was his damned mouthsaying— until a mortified peek up at the healer found him exhaling, and… shrugging?
“My father didn’t live long enough to teach me his language,” he replied, quiet. “You could maybe call me Eft, if that’s any better.”
And gods, this healer, because Kesst’s hard, gulping swallow was surely audible, and visible, no doubt screaming its guilt toward that magic still working away inside him. Still healing him with so much kindness, even now. Still keeping that promise.
“Then Eft it is,” Kesst belatedly said, with a failed attempt at a bracing smile. “A very strong and straightforward name, just like you. And look, if you’d ever like to learn more Aelakesh, I’d be happy to try and teach you — though I’ll warn you, I’m likely to be just as dreadful at it as I am at everything else. Cocksucking and flattery excluded, of course.”
The healer — Eft — blinked, and then betrayed a brief, choked-sounding chuckle, even as his cheeks noticeably flushed again. “Nonsense, Kesst,” he said, low. “I’d be honoured to have you teach me. And no more putting down my patients in my sickroom, all right? Especially the only one who actually does as I tell him.”
And oh, Kesst’s swelling heart, his swellingcock, twitching to life in his trousers. And damn it, but the healer knew it, he saw it, his eyes widening — and suddenly he’d lurched fully away, whipping his magic along behind him. But before it had gone, Kesst could have sworn there’d been something else in it, something warm and fluid and deep. Something…hungry.
And Kesst wanted it back, he needed it back, so much it ached. Enough that he felt himself clearing his throat, the impulse surging, escaping…
“You know, you can tell me what to do anytime, Eft,” he heard himself murmur, husky and hot. “Anything you want.”
And had he wanted Eft to twitch and stare like that… he had, hehad. And Eft’s eyes on him suddenly looked almost as ravenous as Kesst felt, and he felt his tongue brush his lips, his mouth opening to speak, to say…
