“That’s why I’m only asking for volunteers,” Ieduin explained.
Rowan sighed, and they ducked into a little alcove lined on either side by a wooden lattice. The wall formed the ceiling. It wasn’t a private space, not by a longshot, but it was more so than their walk through the courtyard.
The shift in Rowan’s demeanor was immediate. His shoulders relaxed, and he suddenly looked more tired than before. He folded his arms while Ieduin leaned against one of the lattice walls. “We’re a superstitious people, Ieduin. Ghosts and spirits are real to us. We bury the dead intact and with important items that they might need in the Otherworld once they arrive. Death is not as final for us as it is for other people. We believe it is simply a transition to another world without pain and suffering. To pull the dead back from paradise into a world of decay and pain after knowing only relief… It’s akin to torture.”
“There are spirits already trapped here, according to Tofi. We must find whoever is responsible and free them or things could get worse. Besides, as Tofi explained it to me, he wouldn’t be pulling any unwilling spirits back. Just animating empty bodies. They wouldn’t be sentient. The other side might not have any ethics, but Tofi… He’s got his own.” He sighed. “Would it help put everyone’s mind at ease if Tofi explained what he does? He has more answers than me.”
“Perhaps,” Rowan said, though he didn’t sound convinced.
“Look, Rowan, I don’t want to hurt anybody. If you tell me no, I’ll find another way. Just say the word, and it’s done. You’re the king. I’m here to serve you.”
Rowan’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Say that last part again.”
Ieduin stepped in. “I said I’m here to serve you.”
“It would be much more convincing if you were on your knees.” Rowan lightly caressed Ieduin’s ear.
Ieduin bit his lip. “If I do that here, I might lose what little authority I’ve built up with your men.” He closed his eyes and leaned into Rowan’s touch. “I was beginning to think you’d lost interest.”
“I am very interested in training you to be my good boy, Ieduin. I think you’d respond well to my instruction. It would be such a pleasure to see the burdens lifted from those strong shoulders, to watch you beg for the opportunity to please me. However…” He withdrew his hand and Ieduin had to suppress a whimper of protest. “I understand the need for appearances with soldiers. I won’t compromise that. Should you ever need a release from the burdens of command, my door is open.”
Ieduin’s eyes fluttered open, heart pounding. He swallowed. “You’re not worried about… attachments?”
“Don’t expect roses and sunset walks with me.” He put a hand against Ieduin’s shoulder and walked him backward until Ieduin hit the opposite lattice.
Ieduin’s heartbeat throbbed in his ears as Rowan gathered his wrists. He drew in a sharp breath as Rowan pinned his hands above his head and stepped in closer.
Rowan pressed his lips to Ieduin’s ear. “But if you want me to push you to your limit, and then fuck you—hard—until your body aches and your will breaks, until the only words on your lips are ‘yes, sir’ or ‘thank you, sir’ and all you care about is pleasing me like a good boy… That I can do.”
He released Ieduin, who had to fight not to crumple without Rowan there to hold him up. Rowan’s eyes raked over him, and his lips drew up in a smirk at the sight of Ieduin’s obvious erection tenting his pants.
“Gods below, Rowan,” Ieduin grumbled and reached to adjust himself. “Don’t do that to me in public. Leave me a little dignity.”
“Not when I’m done with you.” He winked and moved to exit the alcove. “I’ll leave my door unlocked for you. Whenever you’re ready, you know where to find me,” he said and walked away.
Ieduin let out a breath and leaned back against the wooden lattice.Gods above and below grant me the will to resist him so I can focus on my damn job.
Nine
TwodayspassedbeforeRowan had time to meet with the necromancer. Tofi Runecleaver was a tall and wiry elf with sharp cheekbones and knobby joints. He wore a painted band of black around his eyes, bones in his braids, and a heavy gray cloak adorned with crow feathers.
Rowan met him on the battlements of the castle, overlooking the distant moors. A sea of fog coated the valleys. Cicadas screamed in the uncharacteristically warm morning, and humidity hung in the air like a shroud.
The necromancer stood with his hands resting on the stone wall, his attention focused on the sky above. “There will be a full moon tonight,” the mage said as the king approached. “But no one will see it. Tofi wonders if the Wild Hunt will ride out tonight, and if it does, where it will go?”
“So, you’ve heard the stories.” Rowan stopped next to Tofi and folded his arms.
Tofi eyed him. “Tell Tofi, is there any truth to these tales?”
Rowan shrugged. “There must be some truth to the stories, or they wouldn’t persist. Perhaps people only see what they want to see. Shapes in the mist and fog. Voices carry through the mountains and valleys here. The bleating of a goat can sound very much like a disembodied shout. If the Thief were to ride out and hunt these bandits harassing our supply lines, I certainly wouldn’t complain.”
“This Thief. He is your death god, yes?”
“One of two in the pantheon of the Eight,” Rowan said with a nod. “The Reaper is the more well-known of the two.”
Tofi turned away from the fog, frowning. “Tofi has been reading some of your history books and talking to your people about this death god. In other places, his name is not spoken for fear of inviting death where he is not wanted. Yet your people speak of him freely.”
“He has a different meaning here,” Rowan said. “When missionaries came across the sea, spreading the message of the Divine eight hundred years ago, we already had our own gods. Like yours, ours have an animal counterpart. Fionn wears the guise of a fox. Like a fox, he lives in the ground and the screams of a fox are considered a death omen here. The missionaries saw that and thought they would have a much easier time convincing us that Fionn and the Thief were one and the same.