“Yes,” Nezael said, sad for the drastic shift in mood. He spotted his leggings over the counter and went to retrieve them. Right, he’d barely gotten in the door before Yorick was upon him and yanking off articles of clothing. “Usually, we’d use this day to rouse the skeletons together, but this time, he needs rousing.” He fastened them and found his shirt on the table. There was a small exhale from Yorick and Nezael peered over as he threw the shirt on. “Is something wrong?”
Yorick had found his own pants and was pulling them on too. No show for Nezael this time. “Nothing, just thinking too hard.” Yorick stood and buttoned his pants. “You’ll still be able to come by?”
“Of course.” Nezael came back and was delighted when Yorick reached out and pressed him as close as they could get. Though Nezael kissed him softly, Yorick leaned in deeper, one hand entangled in Nezael’s hair to keep him there and that left the other wandering down the small of Nezael’s back to squeeze Nezael’s behind. The kiss ended with Nezael giggling. “You can’t tempt me back into bed.” He wiggled out of Yorick’s hands. “Help me find the cakes? The baker loves you more than me.”
“You know I will.”
~
The town was much more alive as the snow melted from its streets. Few outdoor market stalls were open this early in the season, plying crafts made over the long winter. There was an energy here the place had been lacking throughout the winter and for once, Nezael appreciated it. The world was coming alive again.
Like he thought, the baker loved Yorick, but the man also remembered Nezael from before when he came once with Agatha. That was enough to get a warm hello and Nezael was flustered until Yorick and the baker got to talking about what he’d been making.
Spring cakes were always made this time each year. Old ingredients left over from hunkering down in the winter and seasoned with berries only found at the start of spring. The baker parted with four and carefully arranged them together so they would not be mashed by the time Nezael got back to the tower. They smelled so divine, Nezael had to resist sharing them immediately with Yorick. Maybe another time.
They made their leave and rejoined the cold breeze rustling through town. Yorick hurried Nezael through the dwindling streets so close to dusk and up the trail leading to the brambles and thorns the wards were made around. Nezael had strengthened them the week before and no longer could Yorick pass through them on his own. It had to remain this way.
Before Nezael could say goodbye, Yorick had pushed him up to a tree for a deep kiss. Nezael lingered for as long as he dared, entangled within Yorick. They parted breathless too soon and Yorick rested his forehead against Nezael’s.
“You’re acting like I’ll be gone forever,” Nezael said.
“I know you won’t be, but now you’ll have other duties too and I’ll have to share you.” Yorick’s blue eyes were twinkling from the way the sun set around the forest. “Promise me you’ll come down like you used to. We can find spring herbs together.”
“I will forevermore.” Nezael softly kissed Yorick and drew back before it could go any farther. “I might even have a skeleton in tow.”
“I’d love to meet them.” Yorick released Nezael from the tree and squeezed his hand. “See you soon, then?”
Nezael smiled at him, all warm and tingly inside. “Soon, I promise.” He kissed Yorick’s knuckles gently and loved the way it made Yorick’s lips stretch in a soft smile.
With a gentle wave, Nezael stepped through the ward. It obscured Yorick on the other side where all Nezael could see was the shape of his body. No doubt to Yorick, Nezael would have simply disappeared into the brambles and thorns. He lingered until Yorick’s form turned away and then he hurried on his way. No more dallying; he had his lord to rouse this night.
Upon his return, Bellamy didn’t bother to hide his exasperation from how close Nezael was cutting it, and he immediately got to work. First, he set up the dining hall with the cakes and took care in choosing one of his lord’s wines to start the year right. It would have been nice to share a bottle with Yorick, now that Nezael thought about it, but as soon as the idea surfaced, he shook it away. Focus, he told himself.
Bellamy had taken it upon himself to find the enchanted decanter for the rousing potion and Nezael gathered the life blossoms from Isabella’s stores. She was the first to be roused, as always. Bellamy assisted, unwrapping her bones delicately, and Nezael crushed a life blossom before mixing it with a cup of rousing potion. He tipped it gently into her skull and it never spilled out. Instead, like magic, the mixture poured into her very bones to reinvigorate what magic was stored within. Lastly, with a magic upon his breath, Nezael breathed into Isabella. The skeleton’s magic awoke, filling her with life stored away during the winter.
The process wasn’t hard and Nezael had seen it first-hand so many times assisting his lord, but he’d forgotten just how many skeletons there were. Many he couldn’t remember the names of alongside the few of his inner circle who exclusively cared for him. His magic renewed them all, just like Carrow’s had done before, but Nezael’s own body began to tremble in response from an overtaxing of magic. His vision waned with each new breath, pain wound its way through every inch of his body as he forced his magic to work, and all he wanted to do was rest. Except he couldn’t. He forced himself to stay awake, deal with the pain.
By the time he made it upward to his lord, last as Bellamy had dictated, he was shaking so much, Bellamy had to help him up the steps.
“It’ll be fine, my little lord,” Bellamy whispered as he drew a reassuring hand through Nezael’s hair. The tower below was alive with the activity of skeletons returning to their posts and preparing the place for their true lord’s awakening. “The first time is always hard.”
Nezael paused at Carrow’s door. “How many first times have you seen?”
Bellamy didn’t answer and the silence thickened the air between them. He wouldn’t even look down at Nezael before he took Nezael’s hand and pushed it to the ward in the door. The glyphs on the surface began to turn like a wheel, the outer ones started first one way, and then the next section the other way, until they were all turning. Eventually, they began dissipating one by one and the magic entered Nezael’s arm as power. Thick and true, it shot pain through his arm and made his vision blur with bright spots. He wanted to draw his hand away, but Bellamy held it there until the ward was no more.
Nezael steeled himself with a deep breath and pushed the door open. The woven spells and wards snapped as he came through alone. Magic parted like curtains, revealing the sleeping form of his lord.
Exactly as Nezael had left him months ago.
The same handsome face softened with blissful sleep. Carrow hadn’t aged and nor had he changed one bit. It almost reminded Nezael of a sleeping prince, but what Carrow could be the prince of wouldn’t come. Then, there was a soft thought like a whisper to leave him there. Did he truly need Carrow? Nezael dashed it aside as soon as it emerged and shook his head. Without Carrow, Nezael wouldn’t be here—he was sure of it. That was that.
“I am here, my lord,” Nezael whispered, lowering himself at his lord’s side.
He crushed the life blossom in his palm and mixed it into the decanter itself to dissolve. The liquid took on a spectral hue, shining like a prism as Nezael swirled it, and he poured as much as he could into his own mouth. Magic collected there, bright and warm from his own throat as a spell, and Nezael reached over to press his lips to Carrow’s. As the spell required, the waking draught flowed from Nezael and into his lord, tingling his lips with warmth as it went.
And that was it. Nezael’s legs folded beneath him, leaving him on the floor with no strength left to give, but he didn’t outright fall. Carrow had caught him and drew him close. His opened eyes twinkled like firelight as magic hummed across him. He brushed Nezael’s hair back with his hand, smiling.
“Oh, my blossom,” Carrow whispered and Nezael’s body shivered hearing his deep voice again after months of silence. “I didn’t think this would be so hard on you.”
“Good morning,” Nezael tried, but his voice was a soft sigh mimicking words. His body couldn’t hold him up and he stopped trying. He was content there across his lord’s lap, he was sure, but then Carrow stood like he’d never been asleep. Magic traced the air after him, threads trailing from him to the bed, and each one brushed up against Nezael as they snapped to let Carrow go. His lord bent low, gently gathering Nezael into his arms, and with no effort, lifted him off the floor.
Carrow’s touch was incredibly gentle, his voice soft against Nezael even though Nezael couldn’t for the life of him remember what Carrow had said, and between blinks, Nezael was in his own bed, changed into sleeping clothes and covered in blankets.
“Rest, my blossom.” Carrow kissed Nezael’s hand and left it over the edge of the blanket. “You have done enough.” With careful fingers, he pulled the chain of the necklace he’d given Nezael months ago over his head. Magic sparkled as it went. Nezael reached for it sleepily, but Carrow caught the hand and kissed it again.
“Sleep,” Carrow insisted, his gaze never straying from Nezael’s. His eyes were so mesmerizing. The twinkling amber with a golden halo of magic glowing in the irises. The necklace disappeared into Carrow’s coat and Nezael’s eyelids began to fall.
“I will wake you anon, but you must rest and recover.” Magic followed Carrow’s voice, gently settling across Nezael as yet another blanket. Once it had settled, Carrow leaned over Nezael and kissed him on the forehead.
And that was it. Sleep dragged Nezael under as ordered and magic tingled across his entire body. It fluttered up and down, reminiscent of kisses, and all Nezael dreamed of was Yorick himself chasing the sensation. Up and down Nezael’s skin like he’d done so many times before.
Eight
Necromancer
