Page 129 of The Amber Sunburst

Then, a second later, the words register. “We have a map?” Alexander exclaims. Another step of progress after a weeklong dry spell, and thank God for that.

He starts over to Kallias, but Zeno gently sets Eudoxia down and puts out a hand to stop him. He’s not smiling anymore. “Alexander, don’t freak out, okay?” he whispers. “Remember what we talked about. He’ll be safe soon.”

That doesn’t bode well.

Zeno pats his shoulder and pointedly leads Eudoxia and Arete into the stacks, leaving him and Kallias alone.

“Hey, gorgeo—” he stops short.

One look at Kallias’ face, and Alexander stops short. Kallias clearly doesn’t notice because he smiles and starts talking a mile a minute, with more enthusiasm than Alexander has seen him show about anything.

It takes several long moments for Alexander to calm down enough to tune into what he’s saying.

“And you know what else is crazy? We’re in what was formerly Iceland, right? But our climate is completely Mediterranean. Can you imagine what technology they’re using to keep the weather sunny and dry? And check this out over here⁠—”

He cuts himself off when Alexander grabs his chin and jerks it to face him. He lets his hand drift up to Kallias’ temple, where the bruise from three weeks ago has just faded.

“What the Hell happened to you?” Alexander asks evenly. Kallias doesn’t want him to freak out, so he won’t. But he’s allowed to ask, isn’t he?

Kallias shrugs. “I got caught, but he didn’t figure out what I was taking, so we’re in the clear. There are so many of these—” he lifts up the map “—that he won’t even notice one is missing.”

It takes everything in Alexander not to demand who ‘he’ is.

Kallias’ eyes narrow, like he’s both daring Alexander to pry for more answers and begging him to let it rest.

Alexander doesn’t say anything.

The injuries aren’t that bad, but they’re fresh, untreated, and probably still hurt like a bitch. Split brow and bottom lip, purple stain on his cheekbone, and what looks like a handprint bruised into the join of his neck and shoulder.

“Nice work with the map, gorgeous,” he sighs.

Kallias shoots him a relieved smile, but Alexander can’t drop it that quickly.

He’s not violent—not really—but right now he can’t quite remember why.

“I’d kill him, you know. If you asked me to,” he says, and he finds that it’s true. The thought of ‘him’ crying under Alexander’s fists until ‘his’ breathing stops is appealing in a way that scares him.

He’s not that person, but for Kallias? He would do anything.

And maybe that damns him. God doesn’t want his subjects to hate—Alexander really believes that. So it won’t be the drinking or the queerness or the irreverence that sends him to Hell. It will be Kallias. And Alexander will happily burn.

“But we’re gone in a week, and he will never lay his hands on you again, so I guess I won’t have to.”

Kallias gives him that look again. Like Alexander is the center of his universe. It would only be fair—Kallias is the center of his, after all. Then they could revolve around each other in a joint orbit until the end of time.

Kallias bites his lip, his thinking face on, and maybe he’ll give Alexander something real without prompting.

But when has he ever done that? Instead, he inches closer, eyes darkening to match the anger that Alexander can’t let go of. He tugs the bottom of Alexander’s shirt, jerking him forward till they’re nose to nose.

Kallias looks from Alexander’s eyes to his lips in a way that seems distinctly purposeful, and he’s tempted to hold onto the chair next to him in case his knees buckle.

Then Kallias gets right up to his ear and whispers, “You look good angry,” before pulling away and walking casually to his chair on the other side of the table, sliding the map with him.

Well, that’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him. It almost distracts him from his concern and endless questions.

Maybe that was the goal.

He drops into his own chair, an arm around the back of Kallias’ because if he’s going to initiate whatever that was, he’s gonna have to deal with Alexander’s casual displays of affection.