Yorick’s gaze flitted up to Nezael’s and he held it. “Are you a necromancer?”
“Yes,” Nezael breathed. “I-In training.” He dropped his eyes to the jar, drawing his shoulders tight. “I’ve never raised a person.” He swallowed. “I know people think we’re scary, but I swear I would never hurt someone or make them a skeleton against their will.”
“You aren’t scary,” Yorick said.
Nezael let some of the sudden panic breathe out. “Truly?” He peered up at the man and found him smiling gently. “It-It doesn’t bother you?”
Yorick shook his head. “No reason why it should. It’s a vast world out there with so many different forms of magic.” He stepped away from the fence and closed the gap between them slowly as though to show how unafraid of Nezael he was. “I won’t say a thing. Promise. No business of mine what you do up there.”
“Thank you,” Nezael said, relieved. “Thank you.” He turned and gazed down the path. “I should return before my lord gets weary of my tardiness.”
“Come by again sometime,” Yorick said softly. “I like talking to you.”
The words struck Nezael in the chest so absolutely, his legs froze. Yorick sounded like he feared Nezael would never come back and on one hand, Nezael understood. They had no reason to come together. Except they were both desperately lonely and craved friendship. Only Nezael hadn’t realized how lonely he was until now. The only world he knew revolved around Carrow. It was of secrets, lies, and deception to the world at large. He knew not entirely what Carrow had planned, only that his lord could trust no one but his inner circle and somehow, Nezael was part of it.
It made him lonely in ways he never thought possible until he’d found kindness and smiles in Yorick.
Nezael glanced back at Yorick, more specifically, his lips. There was another moment, a timeless one that felt too long in retrospect, before Nezael stood on his toes and gently pressed his lips to Yorick’s and kissed him. Yorick’s lips were warm, like all of him probably was, and Nezael withdrew before the kiss led to anything else.
“I like talking to you too,” Nezael whispered as Yorick’s shock melted into such a soft look like he’d found exactly the answer he’d been searching for too. “I would like many more kisses if you have them for me.”
Yorick chuckled. “I think I can find plenty more.” He drew Nezael in again, bending lower to kiss him back. It was just as chaste as the first, but pleasure wound through Nezael’s entire body this time. To have desire reciprocated like this was something he’d never receive from his lord, he was sure.
“I’ll be back then,” Nezael said against Yorick’s lips. “For all of them.”
So he could give just as many back. Nezael hurried away before desire took hold completely and kept him out until dark. Not today. He could wait and let the desire simmer into a small flame. Even if it meant ignoring Yorick’s lips. His hands. The muscles in his back so clear in his mind. Yet still, he wished so much he’d given in to the soft, pleading look Yorick gave him as he walked away and returned to follow the woodsman back to his cabin, but it was better this way.
He was a necromancer and his lord awaited.
Four
Slumber
There was something more than being simply
content now in the tower. Nezael found joy searching through Isabella’s stores only so he had a reason to leave. A reason to delve into the woods with Yorick. To steal kisses off his warm lips and watch the way he smiled, any shred of loneliness melting from his shoulders. And, like the good apprentice he was, Nezael returned before night arrived, a hum to his lips and herbs in his bag. He took to Carrow’s lessons with carefree ease and wards and glyphs came easier to him. Even Carrow noticed, but was more amused than anything else, and Nezael was glad his lord took the new confidence as it was and thought nothing suspicious. It was infectious too, putting even Carrow in better moods.
The joy seeped into Nezael’s dreams and there, he spent them with Yorick. Many times, leaving the forest together with him and never coming back. Those were too much to consider and when those dreams arrived, Nezael quickly buried them to focus on reality. He had a role. He was the dutiful apprentice to the Great Sorcerer Carrow of the Thorns and he’d continue to be. Even if the fantasy of leaving made him warm as the tower drew colder.
“My blossom, you are positively radiant lately,” Carrow’s voice brought him down from all the potential fantasies and back to one of their final training sessions before winter arrived. Nezael had been learning to ferry messages back and forth using the bird’s hollow body. His lord was clear on the other side of the room, delighted after listening to one of Nezael’s admittedly more verbose messages.
Nezael laughed, his cheeks warming. “I’m simply excited,” he called out as Carrow gently scratched the bird under the chin. The sensation crawled across Nezael’s own neck, giving him goosebumps, and he hastened to release his magic hold on the bird. Carrow gave him a knowing look. “My apologies. It’s just you’ll be teaching me to raise a human skeleton in the spring. I can hardly wait.”
Carrow came over, a wistful look in his eyes, and let the bird fly back to its home in the rafters as he went. Nezael had put some fabric up there for the bird and it had already made a little nest for itself. Some imaginary need born of Nezael’s desire for it to be comfortable.
“Ah, if only we had the time now.” Carrow held Nezael’s chin in his hands and tilted it upward. “I thought to suggest you slumber with me so spring comes faster for you, but alas, I need you out here, especially now.”
Nezael refrained from answering; before, he’d wanted to sleep like all the rest to make winter disappear faster like his lord said, but now, he couldn’t find comfort in the same thought. It meant he’d have to leave Yorick all alone and that thought made him despondent.
“Come spring, my blossom.” His lord bent down and kissed him on the forehead. “Now, put your newfound energy to use and help Isabella with her stores.”
Nezael eagerly did so, trying so hard not to seem so excited about leaving, but even Isabella took note of his lifted mood and teased him about it.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t stay out long with Yorick this time—it was much too late—but they used their time wisely. The herbs were found swiftly and for as long as they could stand it, they stayed together in the trees. Nezael managed at least one breathless kiss from Yorick after so many smaller, teasing ones. And then despite the desire to linger longer, make the memory more than herbs and kisses, the dark was calling him home. What little he managed to touch of Yorick, however, was enough to make him feel as though he floated and for that, it was worth it.
With the kisses still fluttering up and down his neck, burned into his lips, Nezael happily deposited the herbs he’d gathered into Isabella’s honeycomb shelves. Still floating almost, he made it into his room before he noticed Isabella had followed him the entire way up.
He jolted in shock when she shut the door after her.
“My little lord,” she said teasingly, “what have you been up to out there?”
Nezael stammered, all sorts of lies and excuses disappearing in an instant. “Collecting herbs for you, of course!” It wasn’t a lie. Not really.
Isabella watched him and it somehow felt like she stared into his very soul, even without eyes. She drew closer with a confident step and flicked a spot at the crook of Nezael’s neck. “Yes, my little lord, but what is this here, then?”
Warmth rushed through Nezael’s entire body as he spun to face himself in the vanity. There on his neck was a mark. The spot that had made Nezael squirm with delight when Yorick had pressed his mouth to it. Somehow, Nezael felt warmer, like his very blood was on fire, and all he could do was cover his face with one hand. Isabella was cackling behind him.
“Did you not think it’d happen?” she teased and turned his chin to face her. Out came a container from her breast pocket. “Blood vessels are fragile things. This will help it heal in time.” She gathered up the cream on a skeletal finger and liberally applied it. “Be glad our lord has taken absolutely no notice of it.”
Nezael frowned. “I’m sure—”
“No, you aren’t.” Isabella said it so sharply, Nezael snapped his mouth shut. “Believe me, little lord. It’s best he knows not of this.” She let him go and stepped back to consider him. “You don’t have to tell me the sordid details, but I do hope you’ve been smart and having fun most of all. It’s what has you in this mood, isn’t it?”
Nezael nodded. “Yes, it is,” he admitted and there was the sensation like she smiled at him. “Isabella…” He hesitated and tried to piece words together. “Have you ever… um.”
