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“Yes, darling?” Perry asked.
“Cornelius is stuck in a hole and Maximus and Hadrian can’t get him out. Can you help? He says he needs to use the bathroom.”
“Oh, dear.” Perry slipped his hand out of Sebastian’s and rose, but Sebastian was quicker, and he was off across the playground before Perry could so much as take Elian’s hand. He joined a flustered Arsaces by the burial mound, dropped to his knees, and dug into the sand like a hound through dirt. The boys had been particularly industrious, so there was a fair amount of sand to move, but Sebastian made quick work of it.
Once Cornelius had been excavated to a satisfactory degree, Sebastian lifted him out of the hole. Cornelius promptly darted behind the nearest bush to do what it was young boys in bushes did.
“You’re a good boy for coming forward and telling us, Elian,” Perry told his son. He bent down to kiss him atop his head, which smelled of sunshine and faintly of shampoo. “Your brother will remember your kindness, and so will I.”
“You’re not gonna get mad at Maximus and Hadrian, are you?”
“Did they put Cornelius in the hole against his will?”
“No.”
“Then no, darling. There’s nothing to be upset about.” Unusual movement in the area of Cornelius’s chosen bush drew Perry’s eye. Octavius had joined him. Osric, arms crossed and expression stoic, stood with his back to them, the perfect image of a bodyguard. “Although I do think that perhaps it’s time to leave. That poor bush deserves a repose. We’ll take our business home to the toilet, where it belongs.”
Sebastian, whether through suggestion via their bond or his own parenting instincts, began to herd the remaining boys in the direction of Perry’s park bench.
“But I don’t need to go.” Elian looked up at Perry imploringly. “Can I please stay? You can stay with me. Father can take everyone else home to use the bathroom and we can stay and play. Just you and me.”
“You have no idea how much I’d love that, darling, but it simply cannot be.” Perry held out his hand, which Elian took. At eight years old, the boys were rambunctious, but they had yet to reach the age where they shied away from his affection. It would be upon them soon, though, so Perry intended to cherish every hug, kiss, and held hand he had left. “Now that your older brothers are home, perhaps we can come to the park more often, but we can’t stay here today all by ourselves. You wouldn’t want to waste the time we could spend together with brothers, would you? They’re so rarely able to visit.”
“Oh. You’re right.” Elian gave him a large, gap-toothed smile. “Next time we come back, I want you to push me on the swing.”
Perry smiled. “That does sound like fun, doesn’t it?”
The other children began to arrive, and soon enough all eight had been assembled. Perry and Sebastian took the lead while the older boys walked behind to make sure none of their younger brothers wandered off along the way. Apart from a little roughhousing, the way home was uneventful, and all eight boys and their five adult brothers arrived in one piece.
No sooner had they arrived, than they scattered and were gone.
In the quiet that followed, Perry heard Sebastian approach him from behind. It came as no surprise when he slipped his arms around Perry and drew him close.
“I love you, Perry,” he whispered into Perry’s curls. “My heart. My soul. My perfect mate.”
Perry had heard such declarations often over the last five hundred years, but they never lost their sparkle. Entire millennia could come and go and he imagined they’d always feel this way—bright, exciting, and new.
“And I love you, Sebastian,” he whispered back, lifting his chin to allow Sebastian to kiss him, which he did. “We’ve weathered hell and come out stronger for it. Whatever happens, we will weather this, too.”
Sebastian grunted in agreement, then scooped Perry into his arms and carried him off to where no whelp would find them. With some luck, the dangers plaguing them would lose their way, too.
* * *
In the months following the trip to the park, the lair felt less like a prison, but even with his older children home, being cooped up began to weigh on Perry, who knew that life continued on without him beyond the walls of the estate. He thought often of Grimbold Drake, patriarch of the Drake family, and his new mate, Walter, who was expecting a dragonet, and also of Finch, who’d absconded to parts unknown after last Perry had seen him. It bothered him to no end that he wasn’t able to check on Hugh, who he was sure was distraught, or wrap sweet Walter in his arms and assure him that a dragonet was not a curse, but a gift to be cherished.
It bothered him even more to think he wouldn’t be able to attend the birth of Grimbold and Walter’s daughter and personally extend his congratulations, as was proper.
The only things that made confinement bearable—apart from his boys, of course—were the small acts of kindness Sebastian bequeathed onto him every day. There was always something. One day it was a box of sweets left on his bedside, the next a golden anklet studded with pinprick diamonds. Sometimes it was soaps and fragrances, new riches to add to their hoard, or colorful embroidery silks for the tapestry he was working on. On one very particular occasion, it was a love note with a very bad poem written in Sebastian’s hand.
Perry loved it most of all.
On this particular night, though, Sebastian’s act of kindness was not material—he sat at the foot of their bed after a particularly long and tiring day and rubbed Perry’s swollen feet and ankles. He used far too much of a lavender-scented cream to do it. Perry would have to sleep in socks so as not to ruin the bedding, but it was a small concession. Perry wouldn’t trade the massage for anything.
Sebastian was not much of a conversationalist, so while he worked, Perry filled the silence for him.
“Kian is leaving tomorrow, and says he’ll be gone for a few days—perhaps up to a week. He alleges there’s business he must tend to in England, of all places. Can you believe it? I haven’t a clue why the English Drakes would need our American boys to step in and handle matters for them, but I suppose I’ve yet to hear the full story and therefore shouldn’t pass judgment.”
“There are other Amethyst families in England as well, Perry. Not just the Drakes.”
