Six

Wild

Though every trail and path was snow-ridden and glittering, covering all Nezael knew of the woods, his lord’s wards were beacons and he dutifully followed them home. It stood out, all bark-colored brick and windows gleaming the sun back, and Nezael studied it for a moment before he strode inside. Bellamy was there in seconds, likely hearing the door open, and once he saw Nezael, he placed a bony hand to his chest in relief.

“I told you I’d be back,” Nezael said, smiling. “No need for such worry.”

Bellamy’s shoulders dropped. “I fear I will always worry,” he said. “Come. The snow weakened some of the wards and you’ll need to reapply them before we hunker down by the fireplace with something warm to eat.”

Nezael stopped in Isabella’s room first and returned the misplaced herbs, mouthing her a thank you for the opportunity. When he reemerged, he took to Bellamy’s directions with ease, his entire being still feeling like it floated from the night before.

Wards came easily to his hands, making the cold recede back beyond the windows, and once they were all fixed, Nezael settled in for the dinner now turned lunch Bellamy had cooked for him the previous night, now all warmed up. It was a small brisket—Nezael didn’t exactly know what kind—drizzled in a berry sauce that made the kitchen smell wonderful.

The meal as a whole was a quiet affair and they only spoke about small things. Bellamy regaled Nezael with stories from before Nezael came to the tower, each one more ridiculous than the last to make Nezael laugh, he was sure, and normally, he’d be a rapt audience. Except today his thoughts strayed right back to Yorick and firmly stayed there throughout the rest of the day.

In the night, he dreamed of Yorick in his bed with him and the dreams morphed to match who Yorick was in reality. Nezael could picture him perfectly. The sleepy look in his eyes as it reflected the hearth’s light. The soft ghost of his kisses pressing against Nezael top to bottom and it didn’t let up until Nezael awoke alone.

The same bright sun and skies as blue as Yorick’s eyes heralded the morning, and Nezael had to see him again.

He’d managed to hide another set of herbs, but before he could emerge to show Bellamy they’d missed yet another jar, the skeleton met him halfway up the stairwell.

“Little lord...” Bellamy sighed, shooing him back down into Isabella’s chambers.

“I was checking the stores,” Nezael said, not quite a lie. He showed Bellamy the empty jar and the skeleton simply shook his head. He went over to exactly where Nezael had hidden the herbs and gave him a look.

“Lies do not suit you.”

Nezael’s pulse raced, thinking of possible excuses, but none came. Bellamy watched Nezael for so long in silence, it was a relief when he sighed again.

“You can go,” Bellamy whispered, taking the jar. “I know the glow of new love, my little lord, though I’ve not felt it in years.” He cupped Nezael’s cheek with one hand. “All I ask is you return before dark and keep up with your tower duties. Promise?”

Nezael let go of all half-formed lies and smiled. “Promise.”

Though tempting, Nezael didn’t go every day. Bellamy seemed lonely when he headed out and even Yorick chided him for leaving the poor skeleton all alone when Nezael confessed his worry. It didn’t stop Yorick from eagerly pulling Nezael into bed for a quick romp, however, and Nezael never found it in him to say no—he enjoyed it far too much.

Going between Yorick’s cabin and his tower became Nezael’s new normal. Sometimes the days were full of desire and want, while the others not so much. Quiet and contemplative, instead. Nezael enjoyed practicing magic while Yorick watched and he even helped Yorick take to the forest to hunt. They never found anything much, but it was freeing to try anyway. In the tower, Nezael stayed with Bellamy and learned magic from his impressive notes after watching Carrow for so long, listened to his long rambling stories, and even knit Bellamy’s way to appease the skeleton. Nights were spent studying magic until his thoughts drew too distracted and he fell into the blissful dream awaiting him.

There were, of course, flurries of snowfall which fell so heavily, they barred Nezael from returning to Yorick for a time, but with each one, he sent his bird with a soft message for Yorick’s ears only. While Yorick couldn’t send messages back, the bird always returned and nipped affectionately at Nezael’s finger when he drew it inside.

Weeks into winter, one particular flurry took three days to end. In that time, Nezael honed his spell work, drew lightning in the air as effortlessly as his lord, and practiced his runes. Boring and banal, all things considered, and he was overjoyed to find clear skies and the sun once again shining through his window. Bellamy even let him go out without fuss this time, only making sure Nezael was warm.

The snow had piled itself upon tree branches, weighing them down. Not to mention all the paths covered the same. Nezael had to trudge through the snow to find his usual path. Magic helped once he grew tired, and holding it before himself melted the snow to something more manageable to stomp through, but relying on it too much would wear him out before he found Yorick’s cabin. He finally made it by noon, sun bright overhead, and as he raised his hand to knock, the door pulled open. Yorick nearly ran Nezael down, panicked.

“What’s wrong?” Nezael asked.

Yorick was dressed to travel the cold. Cloak pulled across his shoulders, the scarf Nezael had made for him tucked around his neck, and his thicker boots and gloves.

“Before the snow flurry came,” he started, speaking the words fast as his gaze darted across the forest behind Nezael, “people from town mentioned something was stalking the river’s edge. They’re scared and no one’s been able to figure out what it is or where it came from. It only left a rotting stench and that’s it.”

Nezael’s skin prickled. “Like the doe…”

“Exactly.” Yorick took Nezael’s hands. “Please, help me find the source. If something like that gets into town, they’re defenseless.”

The town had never been a priority before; Carrow always regarded it with disdain despite the use it had and Nezael never cared. But people lived there. People like Yorick. Those who didn’t deserve whatever this magic beast might do no matter if his lord cared or not.

Nezael nodded and laced his fingers with Yorick’s. “Of course. Let’s head back to my tower first. I think I have a way to find out where the beast went.”

The wards let Yorick through so long as he held Nezael’s hand. They shivered and reconfigured, making room for him, and Nezael ignored the shifts. He could fix them before his lord noticed. He pulled Yorick past the brambles covered in snow, the thorns snagging their cloaks, and made it to the front doors of the tower without incident.

Unfortunately, the ward upon the front door was another matter. The magic power spiked as Yorick neared and Nezael drew him back before it struck. “Stay here,” Nezael said. “I’ll be out soon.”

All Yorick could do was nod and Nezael didn’t wait for it before he plunged through the ward himself and entered the tower.

“Bellamy!” Nezael called out and immediately turned for the nearest spiral stairwell to get to the armory room down below.

“Yes? Wait—” Bellamy’s bones shambled as he ran after Nezael. He lumbered down the stairs after him. “Who is that outside? My little lord—”

“My friend.” Nezael flung his magic through the armory to light the candles along the wall. The room had weapons bespelled by his lord and magical instruments carefully kept in cabinets along the walls. Nezael hurried to the nearest one and flung the doors open. Not what he needed. He closed it and went to the next one and then the next. Bellamy was on his heels in seconds and took Nezael’s wrist, pulling him back.

“Nezael!” Bellamy snapped and hearing his name from Bellamy’s skull made Nezael jump. “You brought an outsider here?”

Nezael frowned. “He’s hardly an outsider,” he insisted. “I’ll fix the wards I pulled him through later.”

“You’ve known him scarcely a season,” Bellamy stressed. “You don’t know him—”

“Too late for this conversation,” Nezael cut him off. “Look, let my wrist go first.” Magic coursed along Nezael’s skin and Bellamy quickly let go before it licked his bones. “There is a beast terrorizing the town we use for supplies. Though I know our lord doesn’t quite like how close it is, the town is a valuable asset. I told the man out there I’d help find the maligned beast.” He plunged his hand into the cabinet and took the quartz amulet he spied within. It sparkled in the candlelight, magic swirling within its center. He threw it over his neck and turned for the weapons. “Our lord will never know.”

Bellamy didn’t answer right away. He stiffly watched Nezael, silent as a statue.

“Bellamy,” Nezael whispered and touched his hand gently. “Trust me.”

A resigned sigh trickled out of Bellamy’s skull. “I do,” he said. “But I feel this will prove badly for you.” He squeezed his fingers around Nezael’s, comforting. “Any beast prowling during the winter is dangerous, no matter if it has magic or not. Be careful.”

“I always am.”

He even made sure to grab the spelled axe for Yorick. It was heavy—Nezael needed help getting it up the stairs—but Yorick held it with such ease, it felt like he was showing off.

“Just in case,” Nezael said. “Now, show me where the beast was when the town saw it.” He held up his amulet. “I can track it with this.”

The trek to town was smooth once they’d found the trail. The snow had been tramped down already by other travelers and a few mingled outside on the way. More of them than not eyed Nezael curiously as he trailed closely after Yorick, but they never asked who he was even if it was clear they warmly recognized Yorick. It was different than at the market, but Nezael forced himself to focus. He was doing a good deed and they would see that, suspicion or not.

Yorick took him to the bridge into town where the holly plants still hung. Everyone stayed clear of it today. Some of the holly had been torn down, trampled by what appeared to be a paw in the dirt.

“I was told the beast couldn’t go any farther than this,” Yorick said. “Wouldn’t go over running water either, but it’s got people spooked.”

Nezael’s heart jolted as his gaze darted across the holly bundles. It was the ones he’d enchanted keeping the beast at bay. His blood chilled, thinking of the town being gone if he hadn’t thought to touch them. He bent low and felt the trampled ones with bare fingers. There was magic atop it lingering from the beast. Except it felt like his lord’s. Like the doe. Of course. The stench was even the same, rotting yes, but also a sear of magic in the air.