Chapter One
“Imran’s here. Are you ready?”
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Dominic’s stomach spasmed as he raised his head from his desk where it had been sheltered under his arms. He looked over at Shayna leaning against his doorframe. As their eyes met, her sullen resentment built into an angry glare.
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“You’re not ready.” The light sparked her copper hair as she turned. Dominic sighed, listening to her stomps descend the stairs.
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“Imran.” Dominic’s lips soundlessly formed those two syllables as he frowned, looking at his packed bags, taking in this small room for the last time. It was clean, undecorated, with sparse wooden furniture. Adequate.
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It had been over a year since he had seen Imran. Two years since his life went to shit, and Imran had visited him here a couple of times, trying to comfort him in this prison. But Dominic had been beyond help.
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“Sure, I’m ready,” Dominic said out loud to the empty room, getting up from his desk. Despite his words, his heart raced. He rested one of his hands over his chest, as if the touch could soothe him. The Archmage crossed the wood floor to his window, where sunlight fought the dirt on the window outside to reach him.
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One hand on his heart, one on the hilt of his sword, Dominic tilted his head to listen for voices from outside. His room on the third floor of the wizard’s tower faced the dirt road, where he knew Imran would be greeting his wardens now. He did hear masculine voices, but couldn’t pick out Imran’s. The hand over his heart absently found the talisman he kept on a thin chain around his neck, a silver five-pointed star contained within a circle. He brought the circle, no bigger than his thumbnail, to his mouth and rubbed it against his lips. As if this action prepared him, he quickly dropped the chain under his shirt and turned to pick up his bags.
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As he walked through the door to the stairs, he savored a brief fantasy of burning this place to the fucking ground. That would feel so good, but Dominic admitted to himself that this had been a home as much as a prison. Here, he had been able to grieve in peace, removed from the questions and intrigue of the Magic Guild. Spending two years under Elkar’s watchful eye was hardly a punishment for what the Magic Guild suspected, and he should be grateful it wasn’t worse.
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Down three flights of stairs and out the front door, Dominic appreciated the sunlight making him squint, the sunlight here that always came with wind and the murmur of insects. He emerged from the shadow of Elkar’s tower, his pale face shining under his dark hair.
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Dominic left his bags in the yard, looking toward the figures in the dust. The tower cast a shadow slanting long toward the east, a sharp contrast against the bright clay-colored road. This road didn’t see a lot of traffic, and hardy weeds were encroaching inward from the edges.
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Dominic took a deep breath as he glanced past Elkar and Shayna, barely seeing them, his eyes settling on Imran.
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Imran was dressed in white, gold thread creating elaborate designs on his long coat, which flowed down to his knees over pants that tapered above skinny brown ankles and jeweled slippers. Gold and silver jewelry glinted from his fingers and ears.
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“Dominic!” Imran trotted over and embraced the Archmage. Dominic couldn’t move, his arms pinned to his sides. When Imran pulled away, he kept his hands on Dominic’s shoulders, looking up at him. Dominic’s right hand found its way to Imran’s elbow, lightly holding on there. Dominic’s touch was thoughtless, a surprise to himself, that he was feeling Imran’s soft sleeve under his fingers. His imagination automatically filled in what was just beyond perception: delicate bones and warm skin.
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Dominic studied Imran’s face. Shiny raven hair fell to black lashes. Imran still wore makeup extending the corners of his eyes, two black parallel lines on each side. That linearity accentuated the infinitely deep pools of Imran’s irises. The masculine lines of Imran’s nose and lips were perfectly set in his heart-shaped face.
A half-way smile screwed itself into Dominic’s cheek. Left alone, Dominic could resent Imran’s beauty, his friendliness, his wholeness. But when faced with the reality of Imran’s bright presence, he couldn’t help but feel lightened somewhat.
“Mm, okay, I’m ready to go.” Dominick broke eye contact first, dropping his hand and stepping out of Imran’s grasp, looking toward Elkar and Shayna. Shayna had her arms crossed in front of her, and she was pointedly looking away. Before he could say goodbye, she darted her eyes at him for just a moment, then dropped her arms and swiftly disappeared inside.
“You’re welcome to come back anytime, Dominic.” Elkar said. Judging Elkar’s expression, Dominic believed him. Elkar had always acted as if his role was less warden, and more protector or mentor. “So long as you cook.”
“Sure, sure.”
“Good luck with your work in Vlank. I’m certain your efforts will be rewarded.” Dominic knew what Elkar meant, that if Dominic performed well on his task with Imran, then he would be accepted back into the magical community, now that enough time had passed since the Immortal Ilana’s disappearance.
Dominic wasn’t sure who came up with this scheme, if it was Elkar or Imran, both together, or others within the Magic Guild. No doubt it was a golden opportunity for Dominic, but the timing was suspicious. Two weeks after he shared a secret about Ilana’s disappearance with Shayna, and now he was being drawn out of exile. Of course, there were still too many unanswered questions about that time—did Ilana die, was that even possible, how could she be killed, who did it—and Dominic didn’t think the Magic Guild would ever let it go. They had lost too much when Ilana vanished. Dominic reasoned there must be some plan to dig for more information.
And if Dominic had any more secrets, Imran would be his most likely confidant. They had been friends for decades, and Imran had saved his life two years ago. The Magic Guild had chosen the right person for the job.
“Thanks, Elkar. I appreciate it. Thank you for everything.” Despite the involuntariness of his stay with Elkar, Dominic meant it. Elkar had done him no harm. After a final goodbye, Elkar went back into his tower, leaving Dominic to go on his way with Imran.
“Our carriage is in the town. We’ll take it to Hamil, and then go between Ilan-stones to Vlank.”
“Did you walk here from town?” Dominic looked Imran up and down, his eyebrows cocked, his mouth smirking.
“I came directly from an Ilan-stone in Cielendelle.” Imran laughed, clapping his hands together over his heart. “Of course I didn’t walk.”
“But you’ll walk with me into town now. Let’s see if your shoes survive the dust and rocks.”
“Okay, enough making fun of me. Let’s go.” Imran reached for one of Dominic’s bags, but Dominic eyed him incredulously, grabbing everything up himself. “Really, Dominic. But, you know what, I have a couple magic stones with me if you want to use those to lighten your load.”
“Really? Show me what you’ve got.”
Imran pulled two stones from a deep pocket within his coat, one a shiny blue shard, another a nondescript speckled brown rock. Dominic dropped his bags again and unconsciously clenched his fists. Without even touching the stones, he felt energy pulsing through his body, reacting in anticipation.
“Maybe we’ll keep the blue kyanite for later.”
“Oh?” Dominic could hardly look away from the reflective lines of blue. Imran held the shimmering shard like a wand in his delicate hand, and the light glinted off his gold-painted fingernails.
“It’s so pretty, you know? It deserves to keep all of its magic. It would almost hurt to use it up.”
Dominic smiled for real and almost felt the urge to chuckle. “This is why we’re friends, Imran.”
Dominic took the relatively plain looking speckled stone, hefting it and spinning it, lips pursed. “This will do.” With his free hand, Dominic made a blade of two fingers and incised the air, tearing a hole in reality. He turned his wrist, enlarging the hole. There was a slight pressure gradient between this dimension and the empty one Dominic had accessed. Dominic could feel the vacuum pulling the hairs of his arm.
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He withdrew his hand, pocketed the stone, and rubbed the tickled part of his forearm before grabbing up his bags and shoving them through the hole. They fell with a soft impact to somewhere not too far down on the other side. Then Dominic waved his hand over the dark hole, as if wiping at a dirty window, and the hole closed up.
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Dominic was ready to go after that, but Imran just stared at him. “What?”
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“When was the last time you used magic?”
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“Oh.” Dominic started walking, and Imran caught up to walk at his side. “Yeah, it’s been awhile since I used holy magic. I hadn’t thought about it, though.”
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“Really? You haven’t missed it? You can’t tell me you haven’t missed it.”
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“Well, I’ll admit that was fun just now. But it’s been so long. And I’ve been thinking about magic differently lately. Natural magic.”
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“Andrean magic?”
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Dominic shrugged. He hadn’t wanted to bring up Andrean magic. “Like, the magic of the fields, and the smell of the grass, and the centipedes in the dirt.” Dominic was hyper-aware of the fields outside of Elkar’s tower, even now as they walked toward the town. Here to the left a creek was lined with tall whispering trees, but mostly late summer grasses waved towards the sky on both sides of the road. This happened to be the golden hour, and the insects’ buzzing was imprinted along with the light onto Dominic’s soul.
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“Sounds peaceful.”
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“Peace is good.”
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“No kidding. But is it magical?”
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“Absolutely. It’s just different from Ilana’s holy magic. I like it. Honestly, I’ve thought about being like Elkar. I could retire completely from the Magic Guild, forget about the High Council, just like Elkar did, and live out in the country. Alone.”
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“Well, for one, Elkar isn’t alone. And two, when Elkar quit the High Council, there was still Ilana’s web, so he could use holy magic here. I wonder if he is happy now to be away from Ilan-stones.”
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“Shayna was done with her magic training a long time ago. I don’t know why she still hangs around. I guess she likes it out here away from everyone, too.”
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“You don’t think they’re a couple, do you?” Imran’s lips twisted.
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“No. Not that. But maybe they stay together for companionship.”
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“Anyway, Ilana’s web is gone, and there isn’t an Ilan-stone here. It would be too costly to have charged little magic stones like mine transported here, and they’re too weak. So there is no way to use holy magic here anymore. Surely it doesn’t make sense for a wizard to live out here. Unless you wouldn’t want to be a wizard anymore.”
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It’s true, life for mages everywhere was more difficult since Ilana disappeared. Gone with Ilana was her web linking all of the Ilan-stones, spreading power throughout the land. Ilan-stones were scattered with hundreds of miles between, in some cases, and stones like Imran’s could only be charged by the Ilan-stones to cast a few spells at most. Most mages had, in the past two years, migrated to the cities built around the Ilan-stones, but Elkar hadn’t. Dominic didn’t know if Elkar had ever considered moving.
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This line of thought struck Dominic with some novel questions. What if Elkar only stayed out here because he needed to keep Dominic away from the Magic Guild, away from Ilan-stones? What if he kept Shayna at his side to provoke Dominic? Dominic shook his head. Those questions were probably both too paranoid and too narcissistic.
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“No? You don’t want to be a wizard anymore?” Dominic realized Imran saw him shake his head while he was lost in his thoughts.
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“No, I do. I’m coming along with you, aren’t I?” Dominic’s words came out sharp, and Imran fell silent.
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It was a mile from Elkar’s to the edge of town. The silence pursued them for a little while, and Dominic looked at Imran out of the corner of his eye. Imran caught the movement and looked at him brightly, his face friendly and maybe a touch repentant. Dominic felt more comfortable in the silence after that look.
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He found himself checking on Imran’s slender feet. The shoes were sturdier than he had originally thought. The tops were pale satin with gold and amber beads sewn over the toe, but the soles seemed durable and flexible. Even the tops of Imran’s feet looked pretty, and Dominic admired them for a moment, in passing. Then he caught himself.
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Dominic felt an odd ache in his stomach.
A memory of Imran flashed into his mind. Imran was sitting on a log in his forest home,
and in an uncharacteristically graceless movement, rubbed his sniffling nose with the back of his wrist. Dominic remembered Imran was wearing a wine-colored outer robe, and he had a bracelet that connected with delicate chains to rings on his hand. Imran looked up at him, lost and young, looking for guidance. So sad, the whites of his eyes red with tears. Dominic was drawn in by the grief in his eyes.
Chapter Two
Imran sat on a log in his forest home, and in an uncharacteristically graceless movement, rubbed his sniffling nose with the back of his wrist. He wore a bracelet with delicate chains connecting to rings on his hand, and he wished the glamor of his carefully constructed, beautiful appearance could hide the mess of his meltdown. He could feel Dominic’s eyes on him, but he couldn’t stop himself from unraveling. The pain in his heart shook him as he cried.
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Imran heard a soft step and wished he could hide. He saw Dominic’s booted foot come within his line of sight, but then the Archmage seemed to hesitate. Imran couldn’t take the pressure of that suspended moment and looked up at Dominic’s face.
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He was caught by that vision. Compassion overtook Dominic’s elegant features. It was like a statue had come to life, showing something more human than any sculptor had been able to capture. Imran blinked, and the pooled tears, hugging the lower lids of his eyes, spilled out. As his gasping breaths slowed, the comforting damp air of the forest found its way into his lungs.
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The visiting Archmage had been unapproachable since Imran first met him. Dominic’s reputation, his handsome aloofness, and the burn scars, tragic evidence of his calling as a fire mage, all created a wall that a youth like Imran didn’t dare approach. But here they were now, and somehow Dominic knew about him, and with a gentle question had destroyed Imran’s facade, exposing his secrets.
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Holding Imran’s gaze, Dominic came closer and took a seat on the log next to him.
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“So, do you like men, then? And how about women and other people?”
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Imran blinked again, and Dominic handed him a handkerchief. After Imran wiped his eyes, he noticed the white linen came away with streaks of black makeup. Imran folded the handkerchief to a clean side, then scrubbed his cheeks, hoping there weren’t unsightly black lines down his face.
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“Just men.”
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“And do the people here respect and understand that?”
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“I haven’t told them. Or, I only told one person.” Imran mustered his courage. This close, Imran could see that Dominic’s dark eyes were gray with a blue tone brought out by his dark blue coat.
Imran sighed and looked away. “My best friend tried to kill himself last month. Everyone thinks it’s because I tried to steal his fiancee.”
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“What happened?” That voice was too kind. It hurt Imran to hear it.
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“I told him how I felt. About him. I thought for sure he felt the same. I thought he was only engaged because of pressure from his family. Just like my father has been pressuring me. But I was wrong.”
Dominic waited motionless for Imran to continue. Imran heard the ticking of autumn leaves falling around them in the forest.
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“I don’t know what happened with his fiancee. I don’t know why I did it, it was some mad impulse. Maybe I was angry. But I did… flirt… just a little. It wouldn’t have meant anything if she hadn’t made it into a big thing.”
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“She complained to your friend about it?”
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“No! She flirted back and I ran with it and he saw all of it. That’s…” Imran knew how it sounded. “I mean, I’m not trying to put the blame on her. And maybe she meant nothing by it. I don’t know, but… But Rowan saw, and he knew how I felt, and he knew… he knew I didn’t have the best intent. I don’t know… I don’t know what happened after that.” The tears were flowing again, and Imran closed his eyes against the reality of what had happened. He shook his head in denial. “I can’t believe this. How could this happen?”
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Imran’s eyes opened again when he felt Dominic gently lay a hand on his forearm.
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“Is Rowan okay now?”
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Imran shrugged. “I haven’t seen him, but I’ve heard he’s recovering.”
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“Imran, you didn’t intend for this to happen. If you had known Rowan would react that way, you wouldn’t have done it, right?”
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Imran wanted to nod but couldn’t bring himself to answer, feeling too ashamed to let himself off the hook, even a little.
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“And you know that what happened has nothing to do with liking men, right? There’s nothing wrong with that.”
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“But what if me liking Rowan is what made him do it?” Imran bit back other “what ifs,” chewing his lip.
“There’s nothing inherently wrong with you liking Rowan. It happens all the time. Feelings develop between friends. If the feelings aren’t requited, it’s sad, yes. Maybe Rowan felt upset about it because you are both men. Or because it affects your friendship. Or because he’s engaged. Regardless, that’s not on you. That has nothing to do with you.”
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Dominic withdrew his hand and stood up. Imran watched Dominic pace. The Archmage didn’t look at him again, but was pulling at his lip like he was thinking. The leaves swirled as he walked, as if the air danced around his legs.
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“Flirting with his fiancee is on you, though. Did you apologize?”
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“No.”
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“You should apologize.”
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“Yes.” Imran’s eyes lost focus, then he shut them. He brought a hand up to hold the back of his neck. He stayed that way for some time, arguing with himself internally.
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It was all too much. Dominic had basically said that what Rowan did wasn’t his fault, and that there was nothing wrong with liking men. These points made sense logically, but were somehow so different from what Imran had been telling himself. Dominic made it sound so easy, as if he could and should forgive himself for what had happened.
By the time Dominic broke the silence, Imran still hadn’t decided if he forgave himself or not.
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“So you’ve only told Rowan that you like men?”
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“Yes.”
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“And is that uncommon here in Trenon?”
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“I’ve known it’s posssible, it’s a thing, but I haven’t personally known anyone like me.”
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“I wonder how many people here are keeping it to themselves.”
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Imran nodded. He had thought Rowan was like him and also keeping it secret. “I felt like I couldn’t tell anyone, but I thought Rowan somehow knew already.”
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“Sometimes we just know. We can recognize these things in each other. Like how I recognized you.”
It took Imran a minute. He was still in catharsis from telling Dominic about Rowan. “H-how did you know about me?”
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“I just had a feeling. I wasn’t completely sure. But in Cielendelle there are a lot of people like us. When I saw you seemed to be having a hard time, and your father was talking about finding you a wife, I wondered even more. But I didn’t know about Rowan. You’ve had a rough start.” Dominic tsked. “The consequences don’t match the mistake, you know?”
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Imran felt like Dominic was saying something important to him, but his mind couldn’t let go of one detail. “Like us,” Imran said. It didn’t make sense. He knew the meaning of those words. But Dominic was married to a woman.
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Dominic smiled. It was the first time Imran saw Dominic smile. “I mean, Lili is more than enough for me. But I like all kinds of people, all genders. And it’s not a secret. Let’s just say, before I settled down, there was a lot of gossip about me, too.”
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Imran’s first thought was that Dominic looked kind of proud of his past exploits. Then it sunk in that this legend, this gorgeous man, had experience with men.
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“You’ve been with men!?” Imran knew it wasn’t an appropriate question, but he couldn’t stop himself.
Dominic quirked his eyebrows up in the middle. “I’m not going to talk about sex with you, Imran.”
Imran nodded as the word “sex,” uttered by one of the most famous mages of all time, reverberated through his head. He felt hot. He pressed the backs of his fingers into his cheeks, trying to transfer the autumn chill from his hands into his burning face.
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He still wanted to hide, but there was no going back now. And Dominic was like him. He had married a woman, but maybe he could give Imran some advice. If nothing else, Dominic’s existence meant that maybe there was hope. Maybe Imran could find love someday and not feel ashamed.
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“Come have dinner with Lili and me. We’ll work out what you can do next.”
“With you and Liliandra?”
“Yeah, she’s smarter than me. She’ll know how to help you.”
Chapter Three
Imran sighed, taking his seat on the hard wooden plank inside the carriage. He was impatient to get going. Even after two years, he wasn’t used to traveling without magic. For mages of his level, instantaneous travel had been the norm, using Ilana’s omnipresent web as a power source. Since Ilana and her web disappeared, there were many changes to the daily life of a powerful wizard.
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The carriage lurched forward, and Imran gripped the edge of his seat. This wouldn’t be pleasant, but was probably a luxury for this isolated town.
Dominic didn’t seem to mind, sitting opposite Imran, his long legs stretched out, spanning the length of the carriage. His eyes were closed, his arms folded over himself. He wore layers of dark clothing, the black of his collar as dark as a cut against the pale skin of his neck. The burn scars climbing out from under Dominic’s shirt gleamed in the dimming light. That whorled mix of painful red and shiny contorted skin crawled up the corner of his jaw and caught the bottom of his right ear. Imran imagined the scars burning up Dominic’s body like the fires that made them long ago. They threatened to consume his handsome face.
Imran regretted that so long as a year had passed, but with travel so difficult, and his father’s death requiring a trip to Trenon instead… but Imran hated making excuses even to himself. He knew that seeing Dominic not doing well hurt him, and it was actually easier to go to his father’s memorial than to see Dominic.
He could hardly bear how Dominic looked a year ago. And sixth months before that, and during the Magic Guild’s inquisition two years ago. And on the battlefield, dying. The panic Imran felt when the holy web disappeared, when he held Dominic in his arms, unable to heal him, that panic had cast a shadow on every subsequent moment with Dominic.
Imran took a breath to steady himself. He thought Dominic actually looked good today. His skin and his hair were healthy; he’d been eating well. Dominic had put some weight back on, and it looked like he had been getting into good physical condition again. He was never bulky, but he lost muscle mass after the war, after he had been sent to Elkar. His clothes now were somewhat simpler than what he used to wear, when he was the star of the magical world, Ilana’s personal warrior against dark magic. But his current clothes were well-kept, well-made, and in keeping with Dominic’s style. He wore a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing lean, well-defined forearms. Dominic’s vest and its trim were also dark, but with slightly different shades and materials. The overall effect was subtle complexity, with an appealing texture.
Imran could see in Dominic now the man who had intimidated him and stunned him when he was a youth. But here was still something different, a weight to his lips. Even if Dominic was never a big smiler, his face had been neutral, indifferent. That mouth now seemed disappointed and resentful. There was a tension there like he was holding back from saying something that would hurt.
Dominic needed to let out whatever was creating that tension. Imran knew Dominic had to be angry, chronically now for the past two years. Imran remembered when he had last seen Dominic, in a horrible state of not giving a fuck, chain smoking and disheveled. There was still a brightness in his eyes like smoldering coals. Imran knew that light was fueled by an unspeakable rage.
Now those burning eyes were closed and Dominic gave himself a leisurely stretch. Imran watched it climb through Dominic’s body. First through the feet, then the strong legs. When the stretch reached Dominic’s torso, he arched his back and broadened his shoulders. It looked very, very satisfying. Dominic’s eyes blinked open as he let out a sigh.
Imran immediately looked away.
It shouldn’t be like this. Liliandra was dead, tragically dead, and Imran missed her. A light in the world had gone out two years ago, extinguished by Ilana, who had betrayed them all.
Fuck. Imran cursed himself. A moment alone with Dominic in a carriage. A stretch. And Imran felt hot, blushing.
As long as Liliandra had been alive, Imran could think whatever he wanted in the privacy of his fantasies. There was no harm in it. He and Dominic could even flirt a little, in a joking way. But now the potential harm was great. One, Imran must not be so shameless. For his own sake. Two, he must not drive Dominic away by seeming opportunistic.
Dominic’s morality had always been impeccable, and Imran couldn’t help but judge himself by his hero’s standards. Dominic would definitely feel disdain, maybe even disgust, if Imran flirted with him at all in these circumstances.
“Imran, your father… I’m sorry for your loss.”
Imran cursed himself again. Dominic had innocently stretched, and was thinking of him, compassionately, like a good friend.
“You heard about that, huh?”
“Not any details, just that he died.”
Imran forced himself to look at Dominic again.
The tension in his mouth was gone now, as Dominic looked at him. He looked beautiful and kind, without a trace of the trauma he had endured in his expression. His focus was completely on Imran, his eyes earnest and sensitive. This was the Dominic that had made Imran first feel warm and confused, many years ago. Seeing this lovely face again, Imran was flooded with those feelings and, also, relief. The Dominic he knew was still here. At last, he’d shown himself.
“It was old age. Nothing more. Nothing less. You know how it is, being a mage of our rank. We prepare ourselves to lose everyone eventually. Except for each other.” Repeated loss was the price of learning the secret of longevity from the Magic Guild. It was a secret his father could never learn. His father had been an earth mage, without a gift for holy magic, whereas Imran could use holy magic and was as strong as anyone, but could not use any elemental magic. It was a difference that caused divergent destinies.
“He was a good man,” Dominic said. Imran knew Dominic would only say that about a few people, alive or dead.
“Mm. I appreciated him more as I got older. He was so solid, the quintessential earth mage. Steady. Grounded.” Imran smiled. “Low-key.”
Dominic smiled a little too. “You two were getting along recently?”
“Eh, pretty much. I guess he accepted eventually that I had a different fate than the one he had planned for me.”
“Sure. Did it feel weird going back after your father died?”
“You know what’s funny? I’ve always been different from everyone there, always, but everyone acted like I was different because I had left for Cielendelle, like the city had changed me.”
“Funny. People will deliberately misunderstand you if you’re different.”
“Ha. Fucking right.”
“Lili always said, though, that the people of Trenon treated her better than the people of Cielendelle did.”
Her name said out loud made the air fragile.
“I remember.”
Imran had met her at the same time he met Dominic, at 18 years old when they visited his father. She was tiny, and it seemed like her feet barely touched the ground. She was playful and sarcastic, always wearing a mysterious smile. If you didn’t get the joke, you weren’t on her level.
Imran had never met an Andrean before and was shyly curious about her. She tolerated his ignorance with grace and seemed to dote on him, loving to give him suggestions about jewelry or fashion. She would also give him things she had made, herbal tinctures and tea mixtures, things that Imran prized because he knew how much her cultural heritage went into her craft. She had been an inspiration, one of the reasons he went on to study healing magic in Cielendelle. Even if herbology wasn’t as valued in Cielendelle, where only holy magic was seen as power, Imran loved plants and unlocking their secrets to heal or to harm.
The energy in this carriage would be completely different if Lili were here. But then, if Liliandra hadn’t been killed, maybe Ilana and her web wouldn’t have disappeared, and there would be no carriage ride.
Everyone thought Dominic did it, of course, that he avenged his beloved and destroyed the Immortal. At every inquisition Dominic denied it, sticking to his story that after Ilana killed Lili, he watched her leave our dimension, then felt the loss of the web.
Imran had always believed Dominic. He simply couldn’t imagine Dominic lying. If Dominic destroyed Ilana and the web, he would probably admit it.
But if what Elkar had told him was true, then Dominic had lied. He had at least left out a large part of the story. And for some reason only started to talk about it now, with Shayna. The information itself didn’t surprise Imran, he was just surprised Dominic had kept it secret.
With this thought, Imran looked up to find Dominic staring at him. Hard. The mouth tension was back and Dominic didn’t change the intensity of his look as he maintained eye contact with Imran.
“You look like you want to tell me something,” Imran said. Was now the right time to ask about it?
“I don’t know what.” Dominic smirked, but his eyes didn’t change.
“Okay, then.” That didn’t break the deadlock. “Well, Dominic, just so you know, when it comes to the Magic Guild, Vlank, Elkar, or anyone, I’m your ally. And if there is anything you ever want to tell me, I’ll hear you.”
Dominic narrowed his eyes and lifted an eyebrow. Imran felt like Dominic had been reading his mind.
“And, you know what? We should come up with some signal. If we’re in some uncomfortable situation or conversation, and you want to get out of there, you can give me the signal and I’ll help you. I think Cleo and Darvyn are throwing a ball shortly after we get to Vlank, so there might be a time you’ll want me to cover for you.”
“Okay, let’s think of something. I’ll cough, like this.” He lifted a fist and coughed twice into it, then looked to Imran for approval, much more relaxed than he had been a moment ago.
“Pretty good, sounds realistic. But what if you cough for real? So if I hear you cough, I’ll look at you, and then you can give me a look or something.”
“I’ll blink at you.” Dominic blinked. “No, wait, I’ll slow it down. It’ll be a deliberate, slow blink.” Dominic demonstrated, and Imran couldn’t help it, a laugh busted out.
“If anyone sees, they’ll think you’re making eyes at me.”
Dominic smiled. “It’s a blink, not a wink!” Then he gave the most exaggerated wink Imran had ever seen, with a big grin on his face. Imran laughed, and Dominic’s smile stayed fresh, reaching his eyes.
“If anyone sees that, they’ll pass out in shock.”
They laughed a bit together and Imran soaked it in. He could hardly keep up with Dominic’s moods, but he’d savor the good ones when they came.
“Maybe if it’s an insignificant cough, I’ll just shake my head to let you know it’s not the signal. No big deal.”
“True, true.”
“Can our signal work for just us, too? If I want you to shut up, I can cough at you.”
“In that case you can just tell me to shut up or get lost, no need to be such a gentleman.”
“And you’ll shut up or get lost?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, shut up.”
Imran had never been so cheerfully told to shut up, but he obeyed. Dominic nodded his head, leaned back, crossed his arms over his chest again, and closed his eyes. He still had a small smile on his face.
Chapter Four
Dominic was trapped in a storm. Colorful perfumed winds swirled past him. Sweeping music whipped the nobles of Vlank around the ballroom in their bright pinks, purples, and greens, trailing heavy scents of vanilla and rose.
He stood alone on the periphery of this tumult, holding a small crystal goblet of wine. Clinks and chatter behind him set his shoulders and lips tight and taut.
One particularly adept couple flew by, a woman in a deep dip in the hands of her partner, with white teeth, red painted lips, magenta dress. Dominic felt unsteady, like he was looking down in a dream. He swallowed uncomfortably and blinked to get the image out of sight, even though she was already long gone.
He didn’t realize this party would agitate him so. He had been to countless events just like this, even several here in Vlank. Was it his isolation for two years that made all of this overstimulating now?
Dominic felt hot. But also, the hairs on the backs of his arms prickled like he was cold. He needed to calm himself down. Escape was not an option. This was his life, and there was no escaping that. He reminded himself that there was nothing he could not live through.
Dominic sipped his wine and breathed in its scent. Focusing on the smell and the taste, he filtered out all the other stimuli one by one. His vision turned inward.
With his breath, he felt the wine’s aroma hit the back of his throat. He followed the feeling to his lungs filling up with air. For a moment, he didn’t take the air for granted. It had no scent or flavor, but offered its own delight. Dominic’s eyelids gently fell as he forgot where he was, looking for a name for this extra sense, the sense of his lungs taking in air that he needed to live, involuntarily, no matter how he felt about it, no matter if he noticed it or not.
Dominic opened his eyes and took another sip of wine, letting it pool on his tongue for a moment before swallowing. He held onto the purity of his focus, only letting himself feel breathing, drinking wine, and the warmth of his pulsing blood, warmer than the wine. He imagined a barrier separating him from all that was going on around him.
Successfully achieving extinction of all other sensations, Dominic breathed his barrier into a sphere surrounding him, a sanctified space. Then he was able to gradually notice again what was going on outside the sphere. Whatever was happening out there couldn’t affect him. He imagined the colors, smells, the air stirred up by the dancers, all brushing over the surface of his sphere, but not passing through.
“Hey, Dominic.”
And then, there was Imran. Dominic had thought no one would approach close enough to physically come in contact with his barrier, but he was wrong. Imran stood right at the edge, as if he had sensed something and cautiously kept a distance as he approached.
“Would you like to dance?”
Dominic couldn’t help but smile, even as he rolled his eyes, taking another sip of wine. That was as good as an invitation for Imran, so he came closer, and Dominic lost track of his sphere, feeling muddled.
“I was doing a really fun mental exercise just now and you messed it up.”
“Really? Is it more fun than dancing with me?” Imran’s chin came forward infinitesimally and his left eyebrow rose.
Dominic tossed back his wine, set it on a nearby table and turned all his attention to Imran, offering his hand.
The vestiges of his protective energy, lingering in the air, shuddered as Imran came closer. Dominic felt the exact moment when Imran’s aura met his own. It was a moment of high tension, a push and a pull, then the moment was gone and Imran reached out for him. He tried not to flinch away as Imran’s electric hand fell into his own.
Somehow Dominic’s body remembered what to do and took control. It was like breathing. He took Imran into his arms. The pace of the music was fast, but Dominic could keep up. Imran was light and flexible. Dominic’s quick steps spun them effortlessly, a circle here, a swaying dip there. At times he would release Imran, then pull him back again. At times, his hand would slide up Imran’s back, supporting him.
Finally, the dance was over, and Dominic was relieved. He had felt like he could stumble if he kept going too long. There was a fear that as soon as he started trying to remember how to dance, his body would forget.
Imran pulled him to get more wine. As he thanked the server, Dominic noted Imran’s flushed cheeks, slight breathlessness, and bright eyes. He wondered with some embarrassment if he looked the same.
They found a table in a relatively quiet corner and Imran handed Dominic one of the wine glasses. “So, time for your verdict. What was more fun, dancing or standing there thinking whatever you were thinking by yourself?”
“Well…” Dominic blinked and tilted his head.
“Tell me.” Imran was relentless and his eyes glimmered.
“It’s a tie.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me! Fine, fine, fine, I see how it is.” Imran leaned back, smirking. “So tell me, what were you doing before I interrupted you?”
“Mind magic.”
“Oh?” Imran became still. Dominic knew he had him hooked. Imran’s two favorite things were flirting and magic. Flirting was practically how Imran said hello. He would even flirt with Lili. It was a friendly language that he and Imran fell into naturally with each other after all these years. And Dominic knew the best way to get him to stop was to talk about magic.
“Mhm. Of course, not holy magic. Something that’s all in the mind. Exerting control over your environment with mental focus and willpower.”
“What can you accomplish with magic like that?”
“Perfect question. Before we lost the web, I could have used holy magic to change my surroundings. With this mental magic, I just change my perception of my surroundings. I’m not sure how much more can be accomplished with mind alone. I don’t know how powerful it is, or how much is just wishful thinking.”
Imran frowned and rubbed his bottom lip.
“I’ll think of an example.” Dominic propped his chin in his hand, looking at Imran. A spike of fear pierced Dominic’s heart. The first example that came to mind was dangerous. “Maybe there’s a thought in your mind that you want to get rid of. Through mental discipline, you can make it go away.” He cleared his throat and sat up straight.
“A thought?” Imran’s stare was intense. Imran was a healer and Dominic was afraid Imran would guess too much.
“Sure. But like I said, I’m not sure what all it can do. When I first learned about it, I heard it was a secret technique of midwives. They believed they could use this kind of magic to help women have safe pregnancies. Or, once, I knew someone who believed she used it for justice. She wanted the truth revealed about a man who had cheated on his wife. The truth was revealed, but there was no clear cause and effect. This was a woman I knew who had no talent for holy magic.”
“What have you been using it for?”
“
A clear head.” Time to change the subject again. If he wanted to distract Imran from talking about magic, he could flirt. “But dancing was also very fun. Aside from when you hugged me the other day, I don’t think I’ve been touched in over a year.” He took a long drink of his wine, then brought the back of his hand to wipe the corner of his mouth.
Imran looked stuck. His eyebrows and lips twitched as he tried to settle his expression. Finally, he smiled and put his hand on Dominic’s shoulder. “You’re welcome.”
Chapter Five
The party was starting to get to Dominic again. He felt his heart in his chest, beating too hard against the backs of his ribs. He fought the urge to get up and ignored the suspicion that the floor beneath him could drop away. He wasn’t done with Imran yet. He had made up his mind, he needed to tell him about Morgana.
Imran was looking very rosy under the varied magical lights, with some warmth of wine in his cheeks. A long, thin earring made a sparkling line above his collarbone. He wore a sleeveless outer robe the color of nightshade, with spotless white borders against his skin. Thick black tattooed swirls covered his deltoids, then grew into vines, ending in spade-shaped leaves down to his forearms.
“Hey,” Dominic softly extended a verbal line to Imran.
Imran turned his attention from the dancers back to Dominic. The affection in the pure, fond smile that blossomed on his youthful face escalated Dominic’s panic.
He had to leave now.
“I’m going.” That’s all he could get out as he tried to breathe. He stood, his hand over his palpitating heart, and gave a parting nod to Imran, who seemed to be getting up as well.
Without looking back, Dominic left the ballroom. There were enough people going in and out of the open double doors and mingling in the hall that Dominic had to retreat far from the social buzz, towards his suite, down long white hallways crowded on both sides with anonymous closed doors. Once he found a reliably secluded hallway, Dominic allowed himself to stagger, hand out to the wall, to catch his breath.
The lanterns ensconced in between the doors appeared to give off less light. Darkness crowded Dominic’s vision and he crouched down, his back against the wall. He sat, knees hugged to his chest, and covered his face with a hand that wanted to be a shield. He was helpless, heat radiating from his body, breathing shallow and rapid. He swallowed down the extra saliva that comes before vomiting.
In a few minutes it was over. Dominic wiped his face with both palms and looked around. The hallway was still empty, except, in the direction of the party, hovering by the corner, Imran was watching carefully, shy and waiting. Once he saw Dominic notice him, he came forward without any sign of hesitation and helped Dominic stand.
On his feet, Dominic stretched and rubbed his neck and shoulder muscles, looking at nothing.
“You’re supposed to cough, remember?”
Dominic just looked at Imran. He didn’t feel the need or desire to explain himself. And he was fucking worn out. He debated if he should still have that talk with Imran, but just didn’t know if he was up for it. “Walk me to my room?” Of course Imran agreed, and they walked a few more empty hallways in silence. Dominic was feeling a bit better by the time they got to his door, and he reasoned that telling Imran wouldn’t give him a panic attack, at least. It shouldn’t hurt very much because Dominic didn’t have any more fucks to give.
He could feel Imran gathering tension behind him as he turned his doorknob, probably preparing to say goodnight.
“Come in, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“Oh,” Imran sounded surprised. “Sure.”
Dominic’s room was dark. His fire magic control was so refined that he hardly thought as he lit a trio of candles on a round table at the back of his front room. Behind the table the moon cast some blue light through the partially opened curtains. Close at hand to the right was a couch and chair arranged before a fireplace. Dominic gestured for Imran to have a seat. He himself went forward and knelt on the floor to inspect the contents of the fireplace behind a grate. Tinder and logs were prettily arranged, perfect for guests.
Dominic inhaled, and inside him, behind the backs of his open eyes, he saw a mirror facing towards his mind’s eye. Within it was reflected a simple flame. Dominic cradled the flame inside himself, clearing the mirror and recreated upon its glass the image of the logs and tinder. As he exhaled, he released his fire. Energy passed from the ground through his body, through his internal flame to the fireplace in front of him. He kept the flow steady; his flame didn’t even flicker. He saw, both inside his mirror and in the fireplace before him, the tinder alight. He felt more than saw the logs burning from within. By his next inhale, the connection was severed and Dominic had put his fire away. It never went out, unfortunately, so he had long ago created a place within himself that could not channel energy. His light always shone in the dark there, alone, and he could forget about it.
The warm, light heat of fire bathed his face, and he briefly closed his eyes. Then he settled himself on the floor, leaning against the legs and seat edge of a reading chair perpendicular to Imran. One of Dominic’s legs bent making a triangle with the floor. Another stretched out over a luxurious white fur rug.
Dominic ran a hand through his still damp hair and turned his full attention finally to Imran. Imran was leaning forward, his arms on his legs and hands dangling over his knees. He appeared absorbed in the fire, dark eyes unfathomable. The firelight turned his skin into gold. As if he were alone, his expression lost any trace of his usual reactive smile. His mouth looked soft, contrasting his long straight jawline and prominent adam’s apple.
Dominic cleared his throat. “I wanted to tell you about Morgana.”
Imran blinked and for a heartbeat his eyebrows suggested a frown. When he looked over at Dominic, his eyes were clear.
Dominic had been expecting Imran to say something, so when the silence dragged on he cleared his throat again, wondering where to start. Then Imran jumped in.
“I don’t know— I mean, I know Morgana was Ilana’s avatar for this dimension, but I don’t know how Morgana agreed to that, if there was any clue how she might have felt about Ilana, as we all discovered the depth of her betrayal.”
“Elkar told you I killed her?” The words spoken felt to Dominic like they had the power of a spell. Dominic felt it true within his soul every day. But a truth kept secret could sometimes feel like a dream. Now Imran’s knowing made it irrevocable.
Chapter Six
Dominic recognized the earthy, verdant smell of the forest. It came in through the open windows of the wooden cabin; redolent comfort, freedom, and adventure. But within the cabin, as the light thinned out into darkness, there languished a fetor of blood and death.
​
Dominic, recognizing danger, felt holy power saturate his body. He was a whip ready to crack.
Ilana, possessing the body of Morgana in this dimension, followed Dominic through the portal she had made. They turned together toward a low chuckle emerging from a darkened door.
​
The smell of death intensified as rushing darkness poured in. They didn’t attack. They arranged themselves in a loose formation around Dominic, weaponless and leering. Teeth gleamed through rotting, cracked lips. Lank hair draped over dirty, gray skin. Their postures were stiff, their bodies held upright by the stacking of bones encased in rigid, dead flesh.
Dominic smiled. He loved killing Icari’s dead henchmen. He thought Ilana was taking him to a congress, not a battle, but this battle was welcome.
Then the ground dropped out from under Dominic. He hadn’t moved, and the floor hadn’t moved, but to Dominic there was no longer a sense of up and down, standing or lying, head in the air or cracked against the wooden floor. He blinked, seeing clearly before him the ghouls approaching, but he was completely disconnected from the world and he didn’t know if he could interact with it anymore.
Numbly, his hand touched the hilt of his sword, but too late. A putrid corpse grabbed him by the throat and slammed his body into the floor.
“Don’t kill him,” Icari said. Dominic felt the living dead man loosen the grip on his airway, straddle him, then start wuffling over him like a curious dog. Following the strange act of smelling his face, the corpse ran his hand over Dominic’s hair.
Dominic couldn’t even register disgust or pity as he clawed at the hand on his throat. His movements were still slow and weak, the real battle occurring inside his mind. He was trapped in the room with his flame, unable to connect to the ground, unable to channel his power outside of himself. The circuit with the ground was broken, and he could not connect to holy magic. His fire gave a weak glimmer, like a blue speck clinging to a nub of wick, drowning in a pool of melted wax. There was no mirror to be found. Dominic was alone in the eclipsing dark.
“Fuck this,” Dominic heard himself say, and he unsheathed a knife at his belt. The ghoul gurgled, its desiccated tongue twitching, as it released Dominic to swipe at the knife now protruding from the side of its neck.
Dominic bucked the haunt off him and rolled free. He drew his sword and came to his feet in one movement. He shook his shoulders and tested his balance, still disoriented from the loss of his magical abilities.
​
But Dominic lived for the kill.
Flash. His sword pierced a laughing mouth, then he swiped leftward, slicing open the face. He followed that movement around, piercing the belly of the next revenant. Stagnant blood and rotting innards flew as Dominic set to work, jaw set, accumulating spatter on his sword, hands, clothes, and face.
He had been dealing with Icari’s corpses for months. The necromancer’s army was the reason Ilana had requested his presence today, and taken the unprecedented step of coming to this dimension herself. He could hack these ghouls to pieces, and still they would come. Worse, the violence of their mutilation created energy for Icari, whose specialty was drawing magical energy from pain and death.
What worked best against the dead was fire, purifying fire. Dominic abandoned that thought as he continued to butcher the rabble. As the maimed corpses fell around him, Dominic brought himself closer to Ilana, where she stood safe, as if invisible to the dead.
A snap of Icari’s fingers and the animated corpses fell lifeless once again. Dominic ended his lethal dance face-to-face with Ilana. He ignored the danger behind him, the necromancer himself, to search the eyes of the danger before him.
Chapter Seven
“Elkar told you I killed her?” The warm brightness of fire bathed Dominic’s face. He was settled on the floor, leaning against the seat edge of a reading chair to Imran’s left. One of Dominic’s legs made a triangle with the floor. Another stretched out over a luxurious white fur rug.
​
Imran didn’t know what to make of this night. Dominic kept him spinning and spinning, first with a breathless dance, cautions against flirtation be damned, a strange conversation about magic that didn’t sound like magic at all, then what was clearly a panic attack in the hall… and now he wanted to talk about this?
​
Imran studied Dominic’s face, and Dominic blinked lazily at him. He was the picture of ease, and looking up from where he was seated, his eyes appeared rounder, childlike. There was a slight dampness to his hair clinging to his forehead.
​
“Is it true?”
​
“Yes.”
​
“Do you want to tell me what happened?”
​
“Sure, let’s get it out of the way. I think it’s something I have to explain at this point.”
​
“Ah.” Imran realized Dominic must have been preparing for this conversation, perhaps for a long time.
​
“Before the last battle with Icari, Lili and I prepared a couple spells in case we should face Ilana. Of course that could only be a losing battle; Ilana cannot, could not, be defeated. So they were spells of defense and escape, mostly. But we did come up with one that would attempt to expel Ilana from our dimension. While we were experimenting, though, we decided we shouldn’t use it because it could be dangerous for Morgana. Presuming that Morgana was an unwilling victim in all this, we didn’t want to kill her.” Dominic slowly lowered his head backward until it was resting on the seat behind him. His eyes remained open staring toward the ceiling, and Imran saw his voicebox bob with a swallow. One of his strong, graceful hands came up toward the opposite shoulder. The fingers slid under the edge of his shirt to rest on his collarbone.
​
Somehow seeing Dominic half-holding himself in this way was the most distressing sign for Imran. The panic attack in the hall was surprising, but Imran as a healer was very familiar with them. This quiet Dominic, stuffing those feelings down, holding himself together, made Imran’s heart ache.
​
“But I ended up using that spell, after Ilana struck Liliandra... Morgana died and Ilana was sent away. And the web collapsed and magic disappeared, and all the calls to Ilana have gone unanswered ever since.”
​
“Did you send her to some place she could never come back from?”
​
“No. I don’t think I did that, and I don’t think I killed her. The spell I used could not do those things.”
​
“Hm. No one will believe that.”
​
“Exactly.”
​
Dominic straightened up and they sat in silence for a while, looking at the fire.
​
“Why are you telling me this? Why are you bringing it up again after things have started to settle down?”
​
Dominic’s mouth twisted and his brows furrowed, casting dark shadows over his eyes. “This isn’t settled. Even with Ilana gone, the damage she did to the Magic Guild remains. I felt it here tonight. My old friends the rulers of Vlank were barely courteous. They looked at me like I’m diseased. And I haven’t forgotten that they didn’t take a side back when Ilana betrayed us. They were silent. Since then I’ve known they’re no friends of mine. And the Magic Guild still wants to vilify me, to neutralize me and dispose of me. That was Ilana’s goal, and it’s still the same now. Even though she’s gone, nothing has changed.”
​
“You’ve always had support, and true friends…” But Imran remembered, it was a close thing back then, when Dominic revealed Ilana’s betrayal. If not for Dominic’s good reputation, and the support of two key members of the High Council, the Magic Guild might have cast him out right then. The news he brought almost tore the Magic Guild apart. “You’re right, the same old factions continue to struggle for power. But we do have peace right now, Dominic. It’s precarious, but the ‘zealots of Ilana,’ as you’ve always called them, haven’t been very secure. They have to find a new identity since Ilana is gone. I don’t think you’re much of a threat to them. But they could use vilifying you - again - as a rallying point. So why did you bring this up?”
​
Dominic shook his head. “No. It’s not just the zealots. Half of my friends kept quiet when I had to take a stand against Ilana. And even Elkar’s motives are multi-layered. Why would he put me in the same house as Shayna for two years?” Dominic clenched his fist on his thigh, his eyes narrowed.
​
Imran was wavering between two possibilities. Either Dominic was paranoid and stuck in the past with an unrealistic view of the current politics of the Magic Guild, or he was right and saw deeper into things. He had to admit that the question of Shayna was a very good one.
​
“Shayna is Morgana’s sister,” Imran said slowly.
​
“Yes and for over a year I endured hostility from her every day. Morgana was dead and Ilana disappeared, with me as the most suspect person. I lived under constant pressure to refute it or confess. She never let me off the hook for a moment.” Dominic shook his head again and gave a bitter smile, directed inwards, his eyes unfocused.
​
“So you’re saying Elkar put you two together on purpose, to pressure you into confessing?” Imran didn’t doubt Elkar was that canny. “And I guess it worked, eventually.”
​
“Didn’t Elkar tell you about it so that we would have this conversation? So that you could assess the situation yourself, and maybe get more of the story from me?”
​
The pieces fit together. Elkar did tell Imran about it, and it would naturally follow that he and Dominic would talk about it sometime, given their friendship.
​
“So… you think I’m a part of this too? The main point… I wonder… if you think I’m being unknowingly manipulated by Elkar and the Magic Guild, or if you think I’m purposely spying on you and trying to get information out of you?”
​
Dominic crossed his arms behind his head, deliberately not looking at Imran now, and the silence stretched on. Imran felt helpless. If Dominic didn’t trust him now, how would he ever?
​
“I guess, Dominic, that makes sense. And you don’t have any reason to trust me if I say I’m not after information?”
​
“I’m not unreasonable, Imran. I’ll believe you if you believe me.”
​
But Dominic still didn’t look at him. And he didn’t sound friendly. What he offered was a negotiation, not trust.
​
“Really? You mean that you’ll pretend that you don’t believe I’m spying, if I pretend to believe that you didn’t destroy Ilana.” Imran tried to control his tone, not to let anger and hurt roil out. What kind of sham friendship did Dominic think they had?
​
Dominic smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes, which were flickering with bitterness. The shadows against the firelight distorted his features. “You’re so smart. You get what I’m saying right away.”
​
Imran stood up, shaking out his long sleeves. He didn’t know which way to go. Should he just leave, or should he go to Dominic, to try to convince him? Imran took a few steps toward the door, then turned back.
​
Dominic finally made eye contact with him again. Imran begged with his eyes for Dominic to take it back, to give some sign or word that would dispel this tension between them. He waited, staring, for Dominic’s expression to soften into kindness.
​
But it didn’t happen. Dominic’s hard gaze was unwavering, guarded.
​
Imran looked away first, nodded silently, then left.
​
Chapter Eight
CW: Gore. Sexy NSFW stuff.
The early hours of the morning never failed to bring Icari into Dominic’s dreams. Icari smirking, Icari too close. Icari grabbing his jaw and wrenching his face to the side, leaving his neck exposed.
And he dreamed of blood. Blood filling all of his senses. He didn’t know where it came from. He didn’t think it was him. He had heard screaming. That might have come from him.
Dominic was lying down. He slowly sat up. He was naked and covered in blood. His skin was so stained that he wondered if the light itself was red, painting everything in this color.
There was some long hair clinging to his arm. Dominic felt a deja vu heavy with dread. The wet, black strands were familiar. Following the hair to its source, he found a round ball covered in dark, matted hair. It was a severed head resting carelessly on the naked body of a woman next to him.
He reached out and gently detached the hair from the sticky blood on his arm. He smoothed the hair down onto her head, and brushed it from her face. It was Lili.
Her face was between his palms and he froze. Her head dropped from his numbed fingers, and he felt horrified that he had dropped her. But there was nothing he could do as he began to retch.
He heard a chuckle nearby, then Icari’s voice. “This is my favorite part.”
Dominic woke in a sweat-drenched bed, heart racing, stomach roiling with nausea. It felt like Icari’s voice was in the room with him, a sinister purr that had woken him up. Like Icari was curled up next to Dominic, his lips by Dominic’s ear, murmuring as he looked into Dominic’s dreams.
Dominic had hallucinations sometimes when he woke up. He really couldn’t tell what was dream and what was hallucination. But he comforted himself that neither was real. At least, not anymore. Everything was as it should be. He was alone in the dark in his bedchamber at the Vlank palace.
Dominic was prepared for his nightmares. He slept mostly naked, just wearing loose shorts, so that he could change easily. On the bedside table were a fresh pair of shorts and a towel for his sweat. He changed, then lied down in bed again, but on the other side. He always started off on one side of a bed, then ended up on the other. This was so he didn’t have to change his damp sheets in the middle of the night.
With his breath, Dominic calmed his heart rate and cleared his mind. All the lights of the night sky blended to reach him through the window by his bed, but he imagined a single star gleaming just for him. His eyes closed, he envisioned his body covered in blankets of starlight, and bright slants of light connected him to the night sky. He painted before his mind’s eye the nightscape full of stars, and tried to pick out the one star for him, tried to pick out its light among infinite lights. This exercise soothed him, and he eventually fell back asleep.
Just after dawn, Dominic had a new dream. This dream was brighter, full of morning sun, lighting up clean white bedsheets. The sheets were soft, but even softer was Imran’s skin. Imran lay below him, and Dominic ran his hands down Imran’s arms, marveling at the softness and the contrast between Imran’s skin and the white sheets. Imran smiled and squirmed his body up towards Dominic, his eyes closed in complete trust and bliss.
Dominic used perfectly controlled strength to gently rub his pelvis against Imran, and brought a hand to hold his waist as he kissed Imran’s neck. Mouth and hands and hips moved, and heat coiled inside Dominic’s body. His breath caressed Imran’s skin, and his lips felt Imran tremble. In between every kiss, Dominic heard himself say, “I love you.”
“I love you, Imran. I love you. Please believe me, I love you.”
​
Chapter Nine
CW: Erotica, NSFW, not for minors
Dominic bolted awake, sitting straight up, his heart pounding.
“I love you?” he whispered.
​
Dominic swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and swiped at his hair. His skin wasn’t sweaty, but it was hot to the touch.
Dominic looked down at his lap. “Huh.” There was a tent in his shorts. He frowned at it, then wiped his eyes with his fingertips.
He didn’t spare any thoughts for his nightmares. Those he was used to. But this new dream… he hadn’t had a dream like that in years.
Dominic fell backward into bed again with a groan as he remembered some of his favorite parts. Touching Imran’s skin. Holding himself above Imran, rubbing against him. Heat flashed through his body, similar to what he had felt in the dream.
He had never explicitly thought of Imran in this way before. In his marriage, Imran had been strictly off limits. His wife had needed monogamy. But he had never hid from himself that Imran was attractive. Objectively, he was one of the most beautiful people Dominic had ever seen. And there was always a spark in the air between them. Dominic had felt his body become hypersensitive to that spark whenever they were physically close. He would feel a little hot, and be extra careful how he looked or didn’t look at Imran, how he touched or didn’t touch Imran. Mostly didn’t touch. Because he knew what his hands wanted to do.
That skin.
Dominic thought about his hand now and what he could do with it. It was resting where he had left it, next to him on the bed. He could easily pick it up and touch himself. But his hand was heavy.
It was a simple thing, lifting a hand, or letting it continue lying there, motionless. Thinking of it that way, Dominic felt empowered to lift his hand, and he did so. The next part was the problem.
Dominic brought his hand in front of his face, staring at his palm. It was a good hand. Long-fingered, capable, sensitive. Familiar.
Dominic raised his head and shoulders off the bed, and moved his eyes from his hand, over his contracted abdominal muscles, to that oh-so-sensitive part of his body.
“It’s just sex. It’s not love,” Dominic told himself. “That love stuff probably came up because I feel bad for fighting with Imran.” He nodded to himself. He did feel bad for how their conversation had turned out last night, and the hurt on Imran’s face.
“It’s just me alone here in my room. I won’t hurt myself. It might even feel good. It always used to feel good.”
The problem was Dominic knew he might hurt himself. As in dreams, when in ecstasy, anything could come into his head. Would it be Icari? A woman’s head being severed from her body while she rode him?
Even considering the possibilities brought flashes of past horrors into his head. “Fuck. Fuck!” He grabbed the sides of his head, then clenched his hands into fists.
Then he forced one fist open and brought it down to his shorts. He touched the taut cotton, and rubbed with just his fingertips the part below the head. Muscles in his lower back involuntary tightened, shifting his body upward in the smallest of thrusts. He didn’t move his hand anymore, but lay there, feeling the old tingling in his balls and feeling his body move with his breath.
“Oh, Imran,” he thought. If he could think of anyone to keep the dread memories away, it would be Imran. Sweet, loyal, trusting Imran. Blissful Imran and his warm skin. Why did Dominic drive him away last night?
As he thought about Imran now, his hand started moving again.
“Imran,” he said out loud, his voice low. The word had a magic effect, and Dominic said it again, this time while pulling himself out of his shorts. His flesh was hot, straight and strong. Imran’s name and Dominic’s shameless use of it sent a surge of heat through his body.
Thinking of Imran this way…
It was so daring, so enticing, it might actually keep the other one away.
He rubbed rhythmically while taking up a whispered chant. “Imran. Sweet. Fuck. I want to make you cum. I’ll fuck you. I’ll fuck you til you cum.”
As he enjoyed the tangible, undeniable pleasure gaining momentum, he savored the secret. Imran probably thought Dominic was cold and resentful now, completely shut off. But the opposite was true. If Imran could see him now… burning for him. He imagined Imran’s heated and twisted face, lost to intense fucking pleasure. Imran grabbing the sheets, holding on, cussing with him.
“Imran…”
Helplessness overtook Dominic. In his hand, in his body, in his heart, on his lips. Helpless, hopeless ecstasy.
​
Chapter Ten
At the top of Vlank’s tallest tower, above smooth white marble in an open air rooftop courtyard, the Ilan-stone hovered. It rotated on an axis of unknown power in the center of the circular courtyard, slowly and counterclockwise. It was almost the color of the marble around it, with a flush of pink, and cuts of a darker, harder granite.
The flush made it look warmer than the cold, breathless air.
The courtyard was formed by two layers of fenestrated walls. These made a circular corridor surrounding the inner sanctum. Even as the wind roughed itself against the walls, and fought to find a way through the punctuate openings, the power of the Ilan-stone dampened the movement and sound within.
Imran let himself be mesmerized by the gently rotating monolith. The power filling his body, called “holy” by the followers of Ilana, always made him feel somewhat lost, treading water in a limitless golden pool of euphoria. He vibrated within an elevated state of awareness, his senses forced inward.
Not all mages could handle the concentrated holy power emanating from an Ilan-stone. They had to master themselves first, so that no turmoil, internal or external, could sever the connection to their ground anchor. Many mages sought peace through endless hours of meditation, while others compartmentalized and ignored their feelings. Imran had developed a dangerous shortcut, a full immersion into his emotions, regardless of how turbulent they were. Riding them was another form of mastery.
Today the holy euphoria inside of Imran was tempered with mourning. He mourned the loss of Ilana’s web. He mourned the loss of Ilana, the loss of security, the loss of faith. Echoes of pain and fear shuddered through Imran’s consciousness. He mourned the loss of his hero.
Imran remembered finding Dominic collapsed, covered in mud and gore, surrounded by bodies. Dominic was one among many fallen Magic Guild soldiers, mixed in with Icari’s twice-dead puppets.
Trembling, Imran had turned Dominic over into his arms, hoping he was alive, panicking because he no longer had the power to heal. He didn’t yet know what Dominic had dragged himself away from, or why magic had suddenly disappeared that day.
Dominic survived thanks to High Councillor Veron, Dean of the School of Magic. She wasn’t a warrior, and hadn’t directed troops against Icari, but she had taken over in the crisis after the web disappeared, directing her students to gather any items with stored magical power and stockpiling them by the healers’ tents.
So when she had seen Imran, tear-streaked and shaken, pulling Dominic’s limp body toward the tents, she had run out with a magical stone in hand, a coxcomb aggregate of rhodonite.
Imran dropped Dominic to the ground, and patted at the flames erupting from the clothes on Dominic’s chest. Veron screamed at her students to run, knowing the danger of a firestarter in crisis. Dominic had destroyed miles of forest and farms before, accidentally, when his firestarting ability first manifested. Everyone knew that story.
Imran hissed as his hands burned, unable to stop trying to smother the flames, but unable to effectively stop them, either. Dominic, still unconscious, grimaced in pain. Sweat beaded up from every pore on his twisted face. Veron’s boots scraped the earth as she ran, then she threw herself next to Dominic, the stone in her hand vibrating wildly, sending tremors up her arm.
Imran heard the stone crack, and flakes of red covered his hands like bloody snow.
The scene played out before him in the enveloping shimmer of holy power, even as he became aware of Dominic joining him beside the Ilan-stone. He knew it was Dominic without looking. Even as the Ilan-stone captured his consciousness in a past echo of his current pain, it amplified his sensitivity to Dominic beside him now.
In this place of power the feeling of being together was unmistakable and unique to the two of them. As Dominic opened himself to the holy magic, it was like waves roiled off his body. They rebounded toward Imran, who could only hold on to his anchor and roll with the swells from the past and the present.
The Dominic of the past groaned under Veron’s final burst of power. It was like his fire would rise and match any attempts to save him. Then he sighed and his contorted face relaxed. He looked like he was sleeping, but his lips were blistered and his skin was reddened. Imran’s hands came to rest on Dominic’s chest, now cooled enough to touch. He had to breathe for a moment, stunned that Veron had done it, had saved Dominic when Imran had been sure they were all about to die. Then his hands went to work, checking for fire damage to Dominic’s skin. It was hard to tell because Dominic’s chest was already badly scarred, and Imran couldn’t use magic to sense pain with his hands, either.
But eventually Imran was able to relax. As past Imran felt more confident there was no danger, present Imran also felt relieved and was able to pull himself from the memory, to pull himself from the emotions that had triggered it, and to acknowledge the man beside him.
Their eyes met through the haze of power, and Imran stopped breathing.
It was the look in Dominic’s eyes. His lips didn’t smile, but his eyes blinked, and it was the same as a smile. It was an intimate look, a look of recognition and knowing, the perfect accompaniment to that feeling Imran had when Dominic came up beside him.
It was as if the Dominic who had hurt him last night, who had cast away his friendship, had never been.
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