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His appetite was always up after he’d gone in the well, his magic replenished, even if his vitality wasn’t, and hunger was all that kept him in his chair as she waxed on and on about the coming festivities. The ball was to be held in four days’ time, and she was already fretting over decorations, food, and the number of required chairs. She wanted to go with a spring theme, she said, in keeping with the Southern balls of her youth, but with the war on, it was impossible to secure the flowers necessary for such a thing. Numb, Náli shoveled baked trout into his mouth, shocked and yet not shocked at all to hear her complain of the war’s inconvenience with regard to the imported wines available.
She’d wanted, she said, to invite a wider variety of eligible young ladies. (That phrase left him shuddering beneath his furs.) But, once again blaming the war with the air of someone who would blame a dog for shitting on a nice rug, she’d had to content herself with Fault Land daughters and coastal heiresses. Still a wealth of choice, she’d assured, with a pointed look down the table that said what’s wrong with you? How can you not choose already?
Náli’s supper turned to ash on his tongue, but he ate it anyway, wanting the energy.
Throughout the meal, his Guard stood in full attendance along the wall, impassive and unmoving. Náli kept sneaking glances at Mattias, but the only sign he’d taken note of any of the conversation was the occasional flicker of a muscle in his cheek.
After, when Serafina had dabbed her colorless lips with a napkin, stood, and been led from the room by a lantern-bearing footman in her father’s household livery from back home, Náli pushed back his chair to the quiet clink of all five of his Guardsmen clapping their fists to their hearts in salute, heavy wrist bracers striking the badges of honor on their chests. They moved seamlessly as they fell into formation around him when he left the table, none having to hurry, no one jostling or crowding him. Mattias in front of him, the other four two-by-two behind him.
Had things gone differently in the well today, and after a dinner such as the one he’d just endured with his mother, he would have normally wanted to scream and throw things in the face of such practiced, dedicated service. He wanted to live. He wanted to be normal. He didn’t want to have five nursemaids frown over his morning porridge and suggest he have some more; or be guarded from the other side of the garderobe door lest he require his Guard’s assistance in the middle of his necessities.
But tonight, an odd mood had settled over Náli.
No: tonight, he had an idea. Tonight, he possessed a thrilling, illicit theory that was in need of testing.
Back in his chamber, Mattias laid out his nightshirt and robe, stoked his fire, poured a cup of water and set it on his bedside table, swung a kettle over the hearth to heat water for his Náli’s tea. His expression was troubled, and his eyelids flagged low, betraying his fatigue. Náli had no doubts that he hadn’t slept for the entirety of their journey, nor since they’d arrived.
The person I love most in the world.
The words left a warm ache in Náli’s chest. A wonder, a reassurance, a reason to try, and try, and try again, to keep testing and teasing.
But not tonight. Tonight, he needed Mattias to go to bed.
“You seem tired,” he said, from the other side of his seal-hide screen as he undressed and washed with a cloth and warm water. “You should turn in. Let Einrih keep watch.”
Mattias didn’t respond, and when Náli stepped out from behind the screen, doing up the laces of his shirt, he found him frowning. “We were…interrupted. Before,” he said, hesitantly.
Náli fought to keep his expression composed. Mattias wanted to stay. He wanted to talk more; was encouraging a return to that fraught and intimate conversation before supper.
But there was no way Náli could sneak out if Mattias was the one on guard. “No, but we can finish our discussion later,” he said, with the air of the lord, rather than the boy who wanted so very much. He hated himself for it – and for Mattias’s brief, quickly concealed crestfallen expression.
Náli offered a smile. “Besides. We’re home now, and safe, and you’re exhausted. And if I have my way, I’d rather breakfast with you than anyone else. You won’t be good company if you fall asleep in your porridge bowl.”
Mattias’s lips plucked to the side unhappily, but he nodded, and moved to the door. “Good night, my lord.”
“Good night.”
When he was gone, Náli pressed his face into his hands a moment with a quiet groan. My lord. When would that end?
~*~
His bed had been turned down while he was at supper, by one of the few heavily-researched servants allowed into his wing of the Keep. Náli didn’t climb beneath the covers, though. He waited a few minutes, quiet, listening, in case Mattias came back for some reason. He did that, sometimes. Often, actually. Said that he’d forgotten to clear a dish when he had, wondering if Náli needed another blanket, or asking if he’d cried out, just now, in need of something.
Ploys, Náli now realized, in the wake of the person I love most in the world. Chances to steal one more glimpse, one more smile. Stolen togetherness, disguised by duty.
It was enough to fill him with pleasant tingles, cheeks heated and fingers restless for touch.
But no. His theory.
When he felt certain Mattias had gone to bed, he pulled on his robe and used its length to disguise the fact that he wore boots rather than slippers. Then he tiptoed to the door and peeped out, schooling his features into a sleepy expression.
As expected, a figure stood in silhouette at the end of the hall, cast in flickering light from the cressets on the wall. He knew right away it wasn’t Mattias, from the shoulders, so it must have been Einrih, set on duty by Mattias on his way to his chamber.
In the interest of security, the Corpse Lord’s chambers sat at the end of a hallway flanked only by the bedchambers of his Dead Guard. No one else lived in this part of the Keep. Sometimes that felt lonely, but tonight, it was a boon.
“Einrih?” he called, loud as he dared. Mattias’s chamber was nearest, and though he ought to have passed out the moment his head hit the pillow, he didn’t want to risk waking him.
Einrih turned at once. “My lord?” He strode down the hall and reached him before Náli could beckon him closer.
