Chapter 38: Will You Have Me?
Lucky announced Toren’s return long before anyone saw him.
The engine’s growl rolled across Tavra Sol, drawing faces from tents and temporary camps. Toren brought the machine down beyond the Circle, well away from people and animals. For once, he obeyed.
Lucky settled with a hiss of steam. Toren killed the engine and climbed off more slowly than he would have liked. His left arm still ached beneath his cloak.
A young Loteri hurried towards him. “Toren. The Elders are waiting.”
“Good. Watch the machine.”
Toren took his bag from Lucky and checked the sealed packet inside before walking towards the Circle. He did not stop for food, questions or the several people attempting to welcome him home.
Elder Mother Elasya was already standing when he entered the Elders’ big tent. Toren bowed to the Elders and placed Aren’s sealed report on the table before them.
“Brother Aren completed the examination.”
The Circle went silent.
Toren rested his hand on the packet. “The Drommala did not die naturally.”
Elasya’s expression hardened.
Toren swallowed. “She was murdered.”
Toren read the report aloud, trying to sound calm. His voice betrayed him a couple of times. The Circle listened without interrupting.
When Toren finished, he pushed his cloak aside. Thin pink marks still ran across his hand and arm. “This is what brief contact with Dead Hair did to me. It attacked me twice. The second time nearly killed me.”
The Elders looked towards his arm.
“The extracted essence would be far more dangerous inside a living body. Aren believes the runes weakened our Drommala’s protection and carried the poison through her slowly.”
Some of the Elders lowered their eyes. Others made no attempt to hide their anger. Toren passed Aren’s report to Elder Mother Elasya. She held it for a moment. Around them, the anger settled into something colder.
Questions followed almost immediately. The Elders argued over the Dead Hair, the Acalith runes and the equipment needed to extract and prepare the poison. The fur found beneath the Drommala’s scales produced another argument and no useful conclusion.
A warrior entered the tent and bowed to the Circle. “Elders. Another Hyelot has been caught by the east patrol.”
Several Elders looked towards him.
“Alive?” Elasya asked.
“Yes. Armed. He tried to hide when he saw the patrol. He is under guard.”
Elasya turned to Toren. “They have been appearing here for the last few days. Separately. None will tell us how they crossed from Pustka.”
Toren frowned. “But the mirror is sealed.”
“We thought so. We sent riders to Pustka after the first Hyelots appeared. They reported that the mirror is open.”
Toren looked at the packet of fur on the table.
Elasya followed his gaze. “We noticed.”
The broad-shouldered Elder with the scar across his face stood and turned to the warrior. “Send more riders to the Pustka mirror. I want people there before nightfall. Catch anyone who tries to cross it.”
The warrior bowed and left in a hurry.
The discussion returned to Aren’s report. They had learned more. Unfortunately, they now had considerably more questions.
Eventually Elasya struck the ground once with her staff.
The voices stopped.
She looked at Toren. “One thing remains.”
Toren straightened.
“You carried the evidence to Aren Thal. You brought his answer back to us. You nearly died doing it. You healed the Guide and the Witness during their journey and protected the Mother when she was beyond our reach.” She placed one hand over her heart. “The Circle names you Healer of the Pact.”
Several Elders repeated the gesture.
Toren stared at them for a moment, hesitating. Then he bowed his head. “I accept.”
Mother Elasya gave him a long look. “You have done well, Toren.”
Only when the meeting finally ended did she approach Toren. “Come with me.”
Mother Elasya took Toren to the communal healing shelter and treated his injured arm. The Steppe’s warmth moved through her hands, easing the ache left by the Dead Hair.
When she finished, she released him. “You should have returned in better health.”
“I did try.” Toren smiled faintly.
For a while they stayed quiet.
Then he asked, “How is the Mother?”
“The blessed birth is tonight,” Elasya said. “Tomorrow the daughter will be brought before the Loteri. The bonding ritual will follow.”
Toren absorbed that in silence. The mission he had volunteered for was complete.
“Elder Mother Elasya.”
She looked at him.
“There is something else.” Toren chose his words carefully. “After the ritual, I want to speak with you about my position as a Loteri healer.”
Elasya watched him. “You wish to leave us.”
“My position.”
Her expression did not change.
Toren swallowed. “Yes.”
She did not ask why. Not yet.
“Tomorrow,” she said. “After the daughter’s ritual. Then you will tell me properly.”
Toren nodded. He had chosen his consequences.
Toren pushed through the tent flap into warm air scented with smoke. His thin linen trousers were still wet around the hips from his hurried bathing, dark hair damp against his neck.
“Dorian...”
He did not have a chance to finish.
Dorian crossed the tent, caught Toren around the waist and kissed him hard. Toren startled, then gripped Dorian’s shirt and kissed him back.
Dorian’s smell hit harder than the kiss. Clean oil, leather and that faint metallic trace. The scent that had clung to Lucky and followed Toren into sleep. Toren breathed him in and pulled him closer.
“Miss me?” Toren murmured.
Dorian kissed him again and walked Toren backwards through the tent. One hand stayed firm at Toren’s waist while the other slid into his damp hair.
When Toren sank onto the sleeping mat, Dorian finally looked at him. He had spent days wondering whether Lucky would bring the Forest boy back. Only now did Dorian realise how badly he had wanted this.
Not release. Toren. Here. Alive. Under his hands.
Toren reached up and touched Dorian’s face. Dorian kissed Toren’s palm, then pulled the damp linen from Toren’s hips. Toren expected Dorian to come back up. Instead, Dorian settled between his thighs.
“Dorian?”
Dorian took Toren into his mouth.
Toren went rigid, then dropped his head back onto the mat with a sharp breath. “Oh, gods.”
Dorian held Toren’s hip and worked him slowly, tasting clean water and salt, feeling Toren’s thighs tense beneath his hands before easing open again.
Toren slid a hand into Dorian’s hair. “I didn’t know you...”
Dorian glanced up and took him deeper. Toren’s fingers tightened sharply. Whatever Toren had meant to say disappeared with his rough breath. Toren’s free hand came down to Dorian’s face, fingertips brushing his cheek without trying to guide him. Dorian turned briefly into the touch before kissing the inside of Toren’s thigh and moving back up his body.
Toren caught Dorian immediately and kissed him. Toren’s eyes widened at the taste of himself, but his arm only tightened around Dorian’s neck.
“You taste of forest,” Dorian muttered.
“I was in one.” Toren laughed against his mouth. The laugh lasted until Toren tore Dorian’s shirt free and shoved his trousers down. Dorian was already hard against him.
Dorian kissed Toren once more, then turned him onto his stomach. His mouth moved over the hot skin at the back of Toren’s neck, across one shoulder and slowly down his spine. Toren relaxed beneath him. Dorian spread Toren carefully and circled his entrance with his tongue. Toren jerked, fingers digging into the mat.
Dorian did it again, slower.
“Dorian...”
The name broke into a breath. Dorian kept one hand firm on Toren’s hip and took his time, feeling the small involuntary movements beneath his palm until Toren’s thighs began to tremble.
Dorian drew back, reached for the oil and leaned over Toren, chest against his back. “I need to hear it.”
Toren turned his face towards Dorian until their cheeks touched. “I want you.”
Dorian kissed the corner of Toren’s mouth and entered him slowly. Toren tightened around him. Dorian stopped and stroked a hand along Toren’s side until the tension eased.
When Toren pushed back, Dorian moved again. They found the rhythm together. Toren reached for Dorian’s wrist, and Dorian turned his hand to lace their fingers. The distant chanting outside the tent blurred beneath their breathing. Smoke mixed with hot skin, oil and the familiar herbal scent of Toren’s hair.
Dorian moved in slow, deep strokes. When he changed the angle, Toren’s breath caught.
“More.”
Dorian pinned Toren beneath his body and moved faster. Toren pushed back into him, breath breaking apart, fingers locked around Dorian’s hand.
Pleasure struck deep inside Toren, centred somewhere Dorian kept finding with every stroke. Toren’s muscles locked, then pulsed helplessly around Dorian as the release ripped through his body. His thighs shook beneath Dorian.
“Vaelyn mi.” The words escaped with it. Toren froze.
Dorian went still. He knew what Vaelyn meant. The rest required no translation. His breath was hot against Toren’s neck. Their hands remained locked together, their bodies pressed close.
Then Dorian’s control vanished. His free hand closed around Toren’s hip and Dorian drove into him hard. Toren gasped, still painfully sensitive, but pushed back to meet him.
That was enough.
Dorian bent over Toren, mouth against his shoulder, and the measured rhythm disappeared. He thrust into Toren without restraint, breath rough against Toren’s skin, fingers tightening around Toren’s hand.
Toren held on.
Dorian buried himself deep and released with a broken sound against Toren’s neck.
For several moments Dorian remained folded over Toren, breathing hard. Then his grip eased. Dorian withdrew carefully and turned Toren onto his back, immediately running a hand over Toren’s hip and side. “Did I hurt you?”
Toren looked up at him. Dorian’s hair was a mess, his face flushed, his expression genuinely worried.
“No.”
“You’re certain?”
“Dorian.”
“I am asking.”
Toren touched Dorian’s cheek. “You didn’t hurt me.”
Dorian studied him before finally relaxing. His hand moved lower, then stopped. “I didn’t touch you there.”
Toren looked down. Apparently not. He covered Dorian’s hand with his and smiled.
Dorian stared at him. “That was not criticism.”
“I know.”
Dorian chuckled and kissed him.
There was no urgency left now. Toren wrapped both arms around Dorian and kept him close, enjoying the heat of Dorian’s body against his. Dorian eventually reached for a cloth and cleaned them both. Afterwards, he lay beside Toren and pulled him against his chest, their legs tangled.
For some time neither spoke.
Dorian’s hand moved lazily over Toren’s back while Toren traced one of the old scars across Dorian’s chest. Then Toren noticed several others were gone. He remembered those scars clearly. Thin pale marks left by mirrors, crossing Dorian’s skin in places Toren had touched before.
The Mother, perhaps. Or the Sacred Shelter itself. Toren was not sure. He traced the smooth skin where one scar had been.
“Tomorrow, after the ceremony, I am free,” Toren said quietly.
Dorian looked at him.
“I spoke to Elder Mother Elasya. I am leaving my position as Steppe Loteri healer.”
That was considerably more information than Dorian had expected while naked.
Toren lifted his head. “I want to stay with you.”
Dorian’s hand stopped on Toren’s back.
“Will you have me?” Toren’s voice went rough.
Dorian was silent for a long moment. Then he said carefully, “Toren. Your people are here. Liana is here. You love her.”
“I do.” There was no hesitation. Toren laid his palm over Dorian’s heart. “I would die for her. She is part of my home. Part of me. But it is different. She isn’t interested in sharing a life with me.”
“And if she changes her mind one day?”
Toren considered it. “If she wants me one day, and you still want me, I would want you both.”
Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Ambitious.”
“I learned from you.”
That earned a quiet laugh, but Dorian did not relax. “You understand what staying with me means?”
Toren watched him.
“I travel constantly. Half the time I do not know where I will sleep the following night. My work is inconvenient, my finances are insulting, and mirrors regularly attempt to kill me.”
Toren smiled. “I’ve seen you cross unknown mirrors and take contracts without asking what they might cost you.”
“Toren, I am trying to discourage you.”
“I noticed.”
Dorian exhaled. “I am also a terrible provider.”
Toren laughed. “People in Steamhollow get sick?”
“Constantly.”
“Then I’ll be busy. And paid.”
Dorian stared at him. Stubborn Loteri.
“Anything else?” Toren asked, annoyingly calm.
Several things. Dorian could probably have produced a respectable list if given paper. The problem was, he was no longer sure whom he was trying to convince.
Toren’s thumb moved slowly across Dorian’s chest. “You love me.”
“That sounds dangerously confident.” Dorian looked at Toren for another moment. Corvell, you are an idiot.
Then he drew Toren closer. “I will have you.”