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Eirik jostled him lightly. "Stay still," he warned. "You're safe." He did not stop, and they made it to the stacked rocks that fenced off one rounding corner of the hot pool. The waters steamed, giving off the faint scent of sulfur and other minerals. He circled the rocks and propped the man in his cloak up against them. Exertion had covered Eirik in a sheen of sweat, and he shivered as the cold air blew across his cheeks, neck, and too thin shirt.
The young man slit his eyes open. They were a crystalline silver, so pale as to look almost white, but bright with the life that the rest of him seemed to have forsaken. Eirik's heart thudded uncomfortably. Those dazzling eyes were not natural.
A fit of coughing shut both eyes tight again, and Eirik recalled that unnatural or not, the boy was on the brink of freezing to death. He turned on his most persuasive calm, and spoke quickly. "I found you in the snow. You're more frozen
than not, and we need to get you into the hot water. Okay?"
It was a gamble, asking for cooperation, but Eirik figured he could always overpower the fool if he thought to resist his rescue. But the man managed to jerk his head in assent, and he moved stiffly to allow Eirik to unwrap his own cloak. His hands moved towards the ties of his shirt, but Eirik pushed them gently out of the way and undid the knots himself. The material was a dark blue, roughly splotched like granite; it opened to reveal a soft white undergarment which Eirik lifted carefully over the man's head. His boots, soft deerskin, slipped off easily. Eirik helped him to stand, concerned that he didn't shiver; bare-chested, with ice still clinging to the hair that fell to his waist, the young man stood motionless. Last came trousers of the same blue cloth as the shirt, and a final, looser white under-layer.
Through it all, the boy remained mute. From the fineness of his clothes and his apparent lack of discomfort at being undressed by someone else, Eirik guessed he might be wealthy, and accustomed to servants.
Eirik knelt by the pool and helped the young man into the steaming water. The first steps always burned slightly, and sudden warmth could deeply pain flesh numb with cold, but the boy still made no sound. He slipped into the pool as if in a daze, settling against the hot rocks. His eyes drooped shut. The water came up to his armpits, and his long hair floated in a fan around him.
Eirik stood shivering in the frigid air for only half a moment before he stripped down and joined the naked stranger. The water was hot and wonderful.
"Wet your head," he instructed, splashing water onto his own head. "It will keep your body's heat from escaping."
The boy sank obediently underwater. When he rose, sparkling beads of water gathered above his lips and clung to his dark lashes. Eirik watched him through the mist of his own breath. Standing, the water came only to his slender waist. His long black hair stuck to the length of his back. His eyes, as he opened them, were silver, soft and brilliant.
"You're beautiful," Eirik breathed. He'd had his suspicions, but they hardened, now. "Ljuflingur," he accused throatily. Beloved, in the hidden tongue. Among his people, it was a curse hurled at lovers with false motives. It meant mischief, seduction, betrayal.
The boy did not deny it. He sank back, letting the water cover his shoulders. He stared back at Eirik with lidded eyes.
"You stay away from my sisters," Eirik demanded huskily, drawing himself up to his full height, into the frozen air. "Evja's happily married with a daughter of her own, and Alfdis is just a child, you hear?"
The light in the young man's eyes dimmed, but he did not shy away from Eirik's sudden hostility. He gazed at him expressionlessly, and then finally said, "I do not know your sisters, and have no intention of touching them."
Eirik flushed. He made himself sit back, but was suddenly too warm. Shame crept over him. What had he been thinking, yelling at the boy?
He'd been thinking of Alfdis, of course. Of Alfdis, and of Halkell.
"I'm sorry," he offered awkwardly. "My mother—"
"It's fine," the young man interrupted, equally stiffly. "Thank you for saving my life."
Eirik grinned at him. "So now the hardest things to say are said. I'm Eirik."
The boy hesitated, then gave him a tentative smile. "You can call me Kaer."
"I can call you?" Eirik repeated wryly. "I'd rather have your real name."
The boy's smile turned bitter. "I have many, most of which would have killed me today, if it hadn't been for you." He cocked one elegant ebony brow. "You could just call me Ljuflingur. I think I'd like to hear you say 'beloved' again."
Arrogant little shit. "Okay, Kaer," Eirik gave in with a shrug. "If you won't tell me your real name, will you at least tell me why you were doing your best to freeze to death before a couple of child demons hacked you to pieces?"
Kaer jerked to his feet. "Child demons?" he asked in alarm.
"Relax." Eirik chuckled. "They disappeared when I killed them."
Kaer sat back down, astonishment blanking his features and revealing the same unguarded beauty that oblivion had. "You killed them? By yourself?"
Eirik wasn't sure if he should be flattered or insulted. "My axes helped. Why did they want to kill you?"
Kaer traced idle circles on the surface of the water. "They're not really children."
"I figured that out."
"They imitate the forms of beings from your world. Subjects seldom survive the imitation, and some resist. A child's resistance is dealt with most easily."
