Tristan sat on the couch, pulled Austin onto his lap, and wrapped fire-warmed blankets around him. Austin relaxed, spared from chattering teeth for a moment. Tristan looked to the side. “Bring me that bowl.” His voice stayed low.
Aged hands offered the soup. A wary Char.
Unable to voice his objections, Austin locked his jaw. Tristan’s eyes flashed. He gestured for Char to set the bowl down and grasped Austin by the chin, guiding him so their eyes met. “Youmusteat.”
Austin jutted his head toward the soup and made a noise of discontent.
Tristan softened. “You can’t have bread right now. It would hurt your throat too much. It is causing you severe pain already, is it not?”
The gentle tone worked against Austin’s tired defiance. He nodded because his throatwaskilling him. It would be agony to put anything down it, even soup. He blinked and was humiliated when Tristan released his chin to wipe away falling tears.
“You are afraid the soup will be too much for it too?”
Galled to admit it, Austin nodded.
“I have painkillers for you, but they are not to be taken on an empty stomach, never mind one that hasn’t had a proper meal in days. A few spoonfuls of soup first, and I will give them to you.” Tristan kept speaking, soft and persuasive, until Austin gave in and swallowed when he raised the bowl to his lips. The painkillers he was too grateful for to fight.
His fever receded and advanced in waves, and it lasted what felt like forever but reasonably could only have been a handful of days. Austin and Tristan fought every hour of it, food and water abhorrent to Austin and Austin’s refusal of food and water abhorrent to Tristan. Char and Eli drifted at the edges, bringing food and drinks, fresh cloths with warm water, stoking up the fire. When Austin glared at the arrival of food, they would quickly shrink back and flee the room.
“Is it wise to antagonise him so?” Char asked after a particularly bitter fight over porridge. The fight had drained Austin of energy, and he lay barely conscious, cheek pillowed on Tristan’s warm chest. “When he regains his voice…”
“I will ask his forgiveness,” Tristan murmured, angling his mouth away from Austin’s ear.
The fire crackled, as if laughing.
“He doesn’t seem the forgiving type,” Char said.
Tristan’s chest shook as he chuckled. “Certainly not,” he agreed. “But what siren has ever been placid? It is not in their nature.”
A beat of considering silence.
“Everything I’ve ever read said siren’s beguile and charm—”
“He is very charming,” Tristan agreed.
Char made an impatient sound. “Yet, I have never heard about their voice hurting. Surely the way he’s using it is meant as a warning. I’m certain he wouldn’t be able to match you, but what of your brother?”
“I can’t say I share your certainty.”
“You think he’s stronger thanyou?”
Tristan considered the question. “He was injured on the beach. But he ordered a ghoul to kill itself, and the thing obeyed. It was too young a ghoul to understand speech, and yet…” There was an admiring note in the merman’s voice, as if such acts of violence were beguiling. “If that is his strength when injured, then once recovered, he is likely to be stronger than Hal, yes. As for myself…I suppose after this, there is every chance I’ll be finding that out soon enough.”
Char groaned. “I do wish you would spare a thought for your estate, lad.” His stately speech disintegrated entirely. “Your staff are all terrified of him.”
“Rightly so.”
“And speaking of, what about the matter I brought to your attention?”
“You will have to be more specific.”
“The attendant who snuck in. The men I actually sent for finally arrived. I gather our imposter locked them all in the basement and took their place. Inx has him confined in one of the bedrooms. Will I send him to the city courts, or would you like to deal with him?”
“You can let him out,” Tristan said. “And send off the others. I believe Austin likes him.”
“…you do?”
“If I’m wrong, I’m sure I will be told in short order.”
