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Their friendship was made clear as Brutus dropped a quick, brotherly kiss on the top of her head as he walked past her to the kitchen sink. Pouring a glass of water, he didn’t spare a glance towards where Rymedur stood, but Rymedur was no fool; he knew Brutus had seen the blade in his hand and was tracking his movements.

Rymedur observed how each acted around the other. There was a peaceful ease to their movements. Each was comfortable, calm and relaxed. Carefree.

Brutus, with one eye trained on the blade in Rymedur’s hand, turned to lean against the counter as he sipped his water. Cocking a curved, bushy brow, Brutus raised a scarred hand, the muscles in his arms rippling with the gesture. ‘So, he is coming with us?’

The flickering glow from the candlelight glistened against Brutus’s skin, reminding Rymedur of a burnt mahogany—rich and deep. Vasilio whirled on Rymedur like a predator before Rymedur could answer, like he’d just realised prey had been within reach the entire time.

Twirling with a flourish, Vasilio eyed Rymedur, a mischievous twinkle alight in his honeyed eyes. ‘Well, hello, handsome.’ He stretched the word, and Rymedur found himself quickly glancing down at himself. Vasilio’s salacious eyes were like being stripped bare.

Helpless gaze flicking to Areanel, Rymedur tried to gauge her reaction. Was this normal?

‘Oh no,’ Vasilio chided, ‘don’t look at the princess. She can’t save you.’ What. The. Fuck. Was going on? ‘You are devilishly handsome, aren’t you?’

Vasilio moved closer to him. No. Not moved. Prowled.

Rymedur felt himself stiffen, shoulders tensing, when Vasilio placed a hand on his chest and all but devoured him with his hooded hazel gaze. It felt wrong to have someone other than Areanel’s hands on him. He wanted to shake them off. Swat him away like a pesky bug. What was he doing?

‘We could have so much fun together,’ Vasilio’s voice dropped to a lover’s whisper. ‘What do you say, good-looking?’

A rumbling snarl—deep and threatening—cut through the air like a sharpened blade.

‘Stop it, Vas,’ Areanel snickered. ‘You’re making Brutus jealous and my Rymedur uncomfortable.’ The way Areanel said my made Rymedur’s blood rush and heart fly like a hummingbird’s wings—fast and erratic. It was a stake. A claim.

The smirk Vasilio threw over his shoulder was teasing and full of mischief. He’d wanted to get a rise out of them. ‘Oh, look at me, big bad Brutus,’ he mocked, mimicking the warrior in a low, gravelly voice that didn’t fit him at all. Then, with a chuckle, he continued. ‘Ease up, husband! There’s no need to be jealous. Plenty of me to go around.’ Vasilio flurried into a dramatic bow, making sure he bent further into Rymedur as he nudged him with his ass.

Rymedur hastily took a step back and bumped his hip into the side of the kitchen island. A good-natured smile sent Brutus’s way was meant to ease the thick, almost clogging, tension, but felt more like a grimace on his face. Though at the grandiose and dramatic nature of the elf whose hair looked as though it was set afire, Rymedur found Vasilio’s spirit to be quite contagious, and that grimace soon turned into a genuine smile.

‘I’m not your husband,’ Brutus grunted, low and gruff, eyes shifting from a deep brown to an amber in the candlelight as he reached down to lift a pack from the cupboard beneath the counter, filling it with dried foods. Perfect for a long journey.

The motion caused the scars on his bare skin to stretch. How many battles had this man been in? The extent of his scars was vast. Without his shirt, Rymedur could see that his skin was littered with large and small discoloured marks. Some were pink—new and lumpy. Others were flat, sunken with a slight discolouration. There were a few large ones painted across his abdomen like an artist’s long brush strokes, representing an animal’s claws that had raked across his skin. Others were as small as a thumbnail. Many, many battles were the answer. But Brutus did not shy away from Rymedur’s stare. This man took pride in displaying his past battles. He was proud of the evidence and left it for all to see. Or was it like Areanel, evidence of survival? Was this his way of telling others he had survived, no matter what they had thrown at him?

If so, then Rymedur was not surprised that this man had gained Areanel’s respect. Hell, he had gained Rymedur’s.

‘He is! He just doesn’t know it yet.’ Vasilio huffed, turning to Rymedur. He acted like he was whispering, though he knew well his voice carried. Rymedur found it oddly charming, the way this male joked with his partner. There was something honest in his hazel eyes. Love.

Vasilio clearly loved Brutus and vice versa. Rymedur glanced between them. Vasilio sent him a wink before fully turning to Brutus and raising his left hand. ‘I expect a grand gesture and the most expensive, extravagant ring you can find, if you were wondering.’

‘I wasn’t.’ Rolling his eyes, Brutus slung the pack over his shoulder, but Rymedur caught the hint of a growing smirk as he left the kitchen.

A wedding ring? That was a human tradition; one that the elves on Andrea did not follow. It was why he and Areanel did not wear them. It was seen as lesser than. Other. A reminder of his human heritage. A thought occurred to Rymedur then—why hadn’t he gotten one for Areanel? He did not care about what others thought of him, and he had tried everything to keep a part of his mother’s culture alive for his children. So why not his father’s? All he had of his father’s was the silver chain dangling at his neck. Perhaps it was time. He wanted something that signified their love, their marriage. Maybe a ring wasn’t such a bad idea.

A scoff drew his attention. Vasilio stood between them, arms crossed. The look on his face was one of complete and utter determination. ‘He’ll cave one of these days.’

Gesturing for them both to follow him, Vasilio moved into the next room. ‘You two were late, so we need to hurry.’

An arm snaked around his waist as Vasilio guided him from the room, Areanel following a step behind. Rymedur wasn’t sure if it was because Vasilio was too short or because he just wanted to put his hands on him, but the vice-like grip did not relent. ‘Come on, pretty boy. Let’s get you into your disguise.’

And as Vasilio dragged him towards the stairs, Rymedur was genuinely worried the redhead meant it literally!

Chapter 36

Rymedur

Talkative but humorous in nature—that is how Rymedur would describe Vasilio. And he had only known the male for a little more than an hour.

Taking the time to observe the three, Rymedur again tried to understand why he had not met Brutus and Vasilio earlier. Had Areanel wanted him to? Her shoulder brushed against his, dark, heavy cloak almost engulfing her and the matching corset beneath. Vasilio had acquired the clothing to help them pass as commoners. Similarly disguised, Rymedur’s cloak managed to hide his features. Or, namely, hide his rounded ears.

Vasilio had upheld his one-sided conversation since they’d left the home in the upper side of the city, and Rymedur was nearly driven mad. Travelling around the edge of the forest, Vasilio complained, ‘I told Ryyen that leaving before dusk would be like a mole making love to a ferret.’ Rymedur glanced over his shoulder. ‘What?’ Vasilio exclaimed, throwing his hands up dramatically. ‘I’m just saying—it’s practically impossible. I can’t see shit!’