That note said she would show me the way. I can only hope she’s still trying.
I fall quiet as he opens the door to his room and ushers me inside. The first thing I notice is that my pack is tucked away, and my spells are nowhere in sight. Gods only know where he’s hidden them now.
“We’ll start the trip back tomorrow morning. If I can trust you, you’ll sleep without shackles tonight,” Nik says even as he sits on the edge of the bed to shed his own boots.
“Keep ‘em on. May as well deliver me back to the Crux in the proper gear to get fucked.”
“You’re the one who took your spells and ran, Dom,” Nik says as he sets his shoes by the door, his socks tucked into them. “You know, I didn’t join the Royal Guard just to become a wizard-sitter. Guess we both have to live with the consequences of our choices.”
I scowl, falling into a surly silence before I hear the jangle of keys. “Which arm’s the fucked one?” Nik asks.
I shrug my right shoulder, and Nik grabs my left hand instead. He closes one end of the shackle around my wrist before fastening the other around a bar in the headboard. Only then does he snuff the light from the lantern.
I wait, blinking against the sudden darkness, but Nik’s weight doesn’t settle next to me. Silence stretches, and, without his armor on, he moves so damn quiet I can’t place him. But his voice finally gives him away as he whispers into the silence.
“What the hell are you doing?” I mutter.
Nik sighs heavily before he says, “Praying.”
“To who?”
“A thanks to Huntian for his aid in tracking you down, and a plea to the Wanderer for an easy road to get your ass home.” He pauses for a moment before saying, “And one to the Lightbringer. Always.”
“Waste of a prayer on that last one. Everyone knows that the Lightbringer and Quietus are too big to hear prayers.”
Nik shrugs. “Maybe. Doesn’t hurt to try.”
There are a few folks in Airedale who would agree with him, but I’ve never been the particularly pious type. Maybe that’s what makes me hesitate to voice my next question. “Do the gods ever answer you?”
A quiet scoff cuts through the darkness. “Of course they do. I didn’t envy fighting an armed wizard, you know. And I caught you without a spell being shot.”
“Must be fucking nice to be so blessed and highly favored,” I scoff.
Nik goes silent again, and there’s a quiet shuffle before his weight settles on the bed beside me. He shifts to get under the covers and even holds them up so I can do the same. “Just go to sleep, Dom.”
I bite back another retort as I shift, trying and failing to find a comfortable position to lay in with my arm shackled to the headboard.
I get the feeling it’s going to be a restless night for both of us. Nik’s not a quiet sleeper. Within minutes of going still, he startssnoring. Yet the second I shift to try and get my left arm comfortable, he goes silent. He’s sleeping with one eye open, as if I’m going to try and make an escape.
Sure as hell wish I knew how he expected me to do that. Because I’ve got precious few ideas, and in considering the bad and worse, I must finally doze.
My dreams are fraught and fragmented. One moment, I’m dreaming of Olbric in his magiline citran, surrounded by red stone, then the next, Galiva is sitting cross-legged in the heart of the Crux, her face pinched with worry. Then, those crossed pillars are in front of me.
Except this time, I’m no longer a passenger.
Lucien grabs my arm, but I’m bound, hands tied behind my back. I stagger as I’m yanked forward, dragged towards the pillars that seem too large to be real.
I know what Lucien is going to do before he does it. I shout and plead, but it doesn’t stop him as he hauls me towards them, setting me in the space between the crossed magiline. The silver crawls over me, consuming me, and I wake screaming.
But even outside of the dream, the silver still has its grip on me. I thrash against its hold, trying to pull my arm free as a ringing builds in my ears. Heat condenses in my chest before it spreads down my trapped arm. There’s a sound like a hammer hitting an anvil before my arm suddenly comes free, and I scramble off the bed and onto unsteady feet.
I barely have a chance to get my bearings, assure myself that I amtrulyawake, before hands are on me. My legs are kicked out from underneath me, and I go down with a yelp. Guess I should be grateful that I’m forced over the edge of the bed rather than the floor. A knee jabs into the center of my back before my arms are wrenched behind me.
“Ow! Fucking hell, Nik!”
He holds my wrists tight in one of his hands even as the other searches me. “Where are your spells?”
He feels through my pockets before sliding his hands under my clothes as if maybe I’ve sewn spells into the seams. Not a bad idea, really, but not one I’ve had before now. Yet as methodical as the search is, the feel of his fingers on my skin makes blood rush to my face, my half-hard cock throbbing.
