Page 99 of The Villains of Winter

“After what I did in the woods, I can’t help but…” James softened, he performed contrition. “All I think of is what I’ve done.”

Elliott embraced him.

“Sorry for everything, James.” Elliott whispered his regrets in the drowsy morning sunlight. Elliott laid himself down on his bed, staring up at the messy stars on his ceiling. “Everyone has the wrong idea of you for what happened in the woods all because of me–”

James laid down beside him in the hazy daylight. “I don’t care what idea they have of me. They can think I’ve transgressed sixty men like Caesar; it doesn’t make a difference to me.” James leaned and kissed his brow where a squirrel had once scratched him. “I care for you. You are all that matters to me.”

Elliott rested his head against James’s shoulder. Conflicted. “You haven’t transgressed sixty men…” Have you? The words suffocated in his chest. Have you killed anyone else?

He could taste his heartbeat.

In that moment, all Elliott knew was that he’d known James better than they all knew him. He was not worthy of tyrannicide. No one witnessed what happened except Elliott. Elliott knew he had only murdered for him in defense.

None of it was premeditated.

Elliott had always trusted him before and he would trust him for eternity. “You know you could tell me anything, right?”

His breath fell on James’s nose.

“I know. You can tell me anything as well, Elliott. I would never forsake you.” I would never forsake you. Elliott could do anything, he could act against anyone, and James would forgive him. He would always stand for Elliott. He would always return to Elliott. It was not the same with Elliott. His heart was a fragile, honest, innocent creature in his chest. It bled too easily for everyone. Elliott wouldn’t be able to bear it. He’d never forgive him. It was best if James bore everything alone. “Rest, Elliott.”

Palpably, Elliott was worried the hibernal ritual wouldn’t be easily forgotten. That the ceremony would incite hatred for James. However, James thought of Atreus by the Roman tragic poet Lucius Accius. James was not concerned with their hatred. Their fear was far more useful to him.

Hatred made men bold. Fear kept them in cowardice.

Ōderint dum metuant.

Let them hate, as long as they fear[16].

​​ CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

WE BOTH HAVE STRANGE EYES. Maybe one day you could paint us together instead of plants.

James stroked through the waters, the millpond tranquil and blissful. A pair of swans took flight over the waters. A starling landed on a magnificent elm, transporting Elliott back to that fateful moment in spring. A fleet of thrushes soared over their heads. Nature gently eased them forward into beauty, summer afternoon after summer afternoon, charting them through the bloom of botanical trees–the maples, birches, and pines.

The cold-cut sandwiches, the iced beers, the cassettes of George Michael were sprawled on the high prairie grass around Elliott. James had introduced Elliott to George Michael. Elliott had never listened to his work outside of Wham! before. Elliott hummed as he kept his eyes on his cold-press linseed oil painting of James and himself ahead of him on the canvas. Maybe one day you could paint us together instead of plants.

James stroked to the edge of the water, his water dripping all over Elliott’s arrangement full of charcoal, graphites, and oils. Sweat smeared his broad chest. Perspiration slicked his pure-white hair back.

A lock of it fell between his golden eyes.

“Are you going to come in with me or stare at me all afternoon?” James quirked his mouth. “I’m breathtaking to gaze at, but surely there’s a better use of your time?”

Elliott never missed a call to adventure. “Catch me if you can then.”

James was doused with pond water as Elliott leapt into the still current, swimming in a blur of movement. Immediately, Elliott felt alive, fifteen again.

Elliott was a swift swimmer, he was already grasping the rocks and flowers on the other side, sprinting through the trees. However, he realized James had improved his speed.

James’s robust, impellent dive severed through the water petals. Elliott no longer outran him with ease. His face fell. Elliott sprinted through the pastoral nature, propelling himself as deftly as he could over silverberry bushes and buttonbush thickets.

He was faster than Elliott.

He pinned Elliott beneath him.

“What is my prize for catching you?” His silken hair was drenched, pelting pond water onto Elliott’s cheeks like a drumfire of rain. Elliott felt a powerful set of hands grasp his thighs and drag him closer to him. James smirked wider.

Elliott’s ears suffused with color, knowing the upperclassman had no interest in any other prize and reward. “What do you have in mind?”