Six months later

 

 

The graves were not yet overgrown. Winter had kept the weeds at bay, and although spring was fast approaching, the royal gardeners were efficient at stopping grass and dandelions from crawling in between the tiles. They were laid out with meticulous care in beautiful, swirling patterns. Queen Aldrys' grave would have looked as recent as the others if it hadn't been for weather and age turning the stones dull and rough.

Ren knelt, fingertips trailing along the edge of the newest monument, the tiles at its base mingling with the ones of the grave on its right. His eyes wandered without his permission to the empty space on its other side, where his own bones would have been laid to rest if not for Anik and his wolfsblood thistle. Or for Evalyne and her thousand men. Or for Jayce, keeping his injured shoulder free of infection. In a way, his grave’s emptiness made the space feel incomplete. Frayne's three young stags had lived and grown together. Now, two had moved on and one was lagging behind. Only Hellic's bones rested here, alongside their parents. Even in death, Thais hadn’t made it home.

Ren rose, knees aching slightly from the cold ground.

“I'm sorry, am I disturbing you?”

Ren turned. If it had been anyone else asking, his answer would have been yes, but Ren could never find Jayce's gentle presence offensive. He stood beneath the arch; come summer, it would be covered in purple clematis. Ren smiled and shook his head.

Jayce came towards him, stopping just short of the tiled pattern, and tilted his head to the side. “It's beautifully made.”

“It is,” Ren said. He tried to hide the sadness in his voice, but Jayce must have sensed it anyway, for he touched his hand to Ren's shoulder. He held an envelope pinched between two fingers and the flash of the pale paper caught Ren's eye.

“What do you have there?” Ren asked.

Jayce's eyebrows drew together. He lowered his hand. “An invitation. I meant to wait. I don't want to intrude-”

“No, please,” Ren said, holding out his hand. “I'd like to see.”

Jayce handed him the envelope and Ren broke the seal with a careful tug. The letter was written in violet ink and Ren immediately recognized Ilias' neat, swirling handwriting.

“The wedding is this summer,” Jayce said.

The warmth spreading in Ren's chest made quick work of dissipating the melancholy that had settled there, and when he looked up, he smiled widely. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Jayce said. The red in his cheeks suited him.

“Rosepetal Square will be busy in summer,” Ren noted, folding the invitation again before sliding it inside his chest pocket. “Are you settled on the venue?”

“Not necessarily,” Jayce said, brow furrowing. “Why?”

“Your brother got married here, in the king's gardens,” Ren offered gently.

“I know, but-” Jayce shrugged. “I don't have the funds.”

Ren shook his head. “Don't worry about it. Let me take care of that.”

Jayce's eyes grew wide and Ren could tell he was about to protest, so he continued quickly. “You saved my life. The lives of many. Your work here is invaluable. It's the least I can do.” Ren winked at him. “Besides, do you really think I'd miss out on throwing a party on castle grounds?”

That elicited a laugh from Jayce and he wrapped his arm around Ren's shoulders and drew him into an embrace. “Thank you, Ren.”

“I'm thanking you,” Ren said softly, leaning into him.

“Your Majesty.”

Ren drew back, turning to face the royal guard standing under the clematis arch. Even after five months, the title still took him aback. It didn't belong to him, not really. But it put the staff at ease to have someone to refer to as their king, so Ren had decided not to protest. “Yes?”

“Lowlanders approach from the south,” the guard said, making Ren forget all about titles and discomfort in an instant. He met Jayce's eyes and Jayce returned his smile.

“Please excuse me.”

“Absolutely,” Jayce said.

 

* * *

 

Ren stood at the top of the castle stairs, gazing outwards. The last time he had watched a foreign party approach had been from the top of a rock formation in the woods outside Frayne. Hellic had called to him from below, asking what he could see, and he had answered “trouble”.

From afar, the approaching company looked much as it had that time: hundreds of horses kicking dust into the air. But the closer they came, the more striking the differences became. They carried no banners, rode in no formation, and their mounts were stocky and covered in dust from the long journey.

Despite the cloud of dust, the massive, dark stallion at the front stood out from the rest. Sakai was clearly tired, but raised his head and whinnied in recognition upon catching sight of Ren on the palace steps. The man on Sakai’s back leaned forward and patted the horse's neck before reining him to a stop in the centre of the courtyard.

Ren took the steps two at a time, heart pounding and hands trembling despite himself. He didn't care about the crowd of onlookers – when Anik dismounted and pulled back the hood of his cloak, Ren closed the space between them and folded a hand around the back of his neck, pulled Anik's head down and greeted him with a kiss like he had dreamt of doing ever since he had watched Anik ride out of the city nearly six months earlier.

Anik's hands slid around Ren's waist like puzzle pieces fitting into place, leaving smudges of road dust against the white fabric.

Ren dropped his head against Anik's shoulder, all the tension and insecurity of the past five months draining from his body. He was aware of the hundreds of people around them, waiting only on his instructions, but he allowed himself to let the moment last a little longer. “I missed you,” he whispered.

“I missed you, too,” Anik said just as softly. He buried his nose in Ren's hair, ruffling it, and Ren felt him inhale. “You smell of roses.”

“You smell of horse,” Ren said, putting some distance between them despite his heart's protests.

Anik smiled, brushing strands of wavy black hair out of his eyes. “I could use a bath.”

“I think you all could,” Ren said, looking beyond Anik for the first time, to the lines of weary Lowlanders on weary horses. “The castle is open to you.” To the head of staff standing behind him on the stairs, he said, “Find our guests chambers and space in the barracks. See that their horses are tended to, then prepare the lower baths.”

“At once, Your Majesty.”

The sharp sound of Ren and Anik’s boots on the marble floors was startling after the noise of men and horses in the courtyard. The silence grew the farther they went, just the two of them again, finally, after months apart.

“The city looks good,” Anik noted. He matched Ren's stride, their shoulders nearly brushing.

“We've been hard at work repairing the water damage. I've learned more about foundation solidity and corrosive materials than I ever thought possible.”

“Thinking of replacing kingship with a career in masonry?” Anik took Ren's hand and laced their fingers together.

Ren gave his hand a squeeze and favored him with a smirk. “Not after I dropped a window frame on my foot. One of my toenails came off. It was disgusting,” he said, shuddering at the memory.

Anik laughed, one of those beautiful laughs that seemed able to cure all the world's misery. Ren thought he had memorized just how sweet it was, but it still filled his belly with warmth to hear it again.

“Sounds like you've been hard at work.”

“And you?” Ren asked, leading Anik around a corner in direction of the baths. “How did it go down south?”

“I'll tell you later,” Anik said. He let go of Ren's hand and hooked his arm around his waist instead, so effortlessly that it made Ren's heart skip. “Right now, all I want to think about is you.”

 

* * *

 

“We've been invited to a wedding.”

“Oh?”

The water was warm and Anik's chest was firm against the side of Ren's face, the steady rise and fall nearly enough to lull Ren to sleep, but he'd be damned if he wasted a single moment with Anik after craving him for so many months. Ren hadn't tried anything once they'd stripped down and sunk into the bath in each others' arms, and he was fairly proud of himself for that. Water brought a fun element to fooling around, but he knew Anik was tired after the journey and it wouldn't be fair to expect him to perform.

“Jayce and Ilias,” Ren said, tracing a circle on Anik's chest under the water. “In the king's gardens.”

“You're hosting?”

“Surprised?”

Anik's chuckle was silent, but Ren could feel it against his chest. He looked up. Anik's eyes were closed, his hand firmly curled around Ren's elbow. His jaw was stubbled; he needed a shave. He had taken off his horseshoe necklace to save the leather cord from the water. On his shoulder, the pale twisting scar stood out starker than usual, the surrounding skin darkened from labouring under the southern sun. Ren's eyes trailed downwards. The tattoos on Anik's arm were distorted by the water. Ran trailed the tips of his fingers along them, over the new one he had gotten just before departing for the Lowlands: daggers and a crown. King-killer. Ren followed the lines upwards, further than they should have gone, above the bend of Anik's elbow, which had been bare when Ren last saw it. Frowning, he slipped his hand under Anik's arm and pulled it out of the water. “What's this?”

Anik opened his eyes and raised his head, then grimaced. “Ah, shit. I forgot. I wanted to surprise you.”

“Surprise me?” Ren smoothed his palm over the new black lines to brush the drops of water away and turned Anik's arm over to take a closer look. He paused. His heart recognized the shape of antlers before his eyes had even seen the full image. The stag's head was large and bold and sat on the lower curve of Anik's upper arm. On either side of it, curling knotwork wound together in a delicate pattern framed by leaves. Ren stared at it, lips parted. Something he could hardly contain grew in his chest.

“Please tell me you like it.” Anik's voice startled Ren from his examination and he looked up. Anik's brows were drawn together. “I can't exactly take it off.”

Ren blinked, jaw working around words he couldn't form. You did this for me? It was such a clear display of belonging, of loyalty and the kind of promised future Ren almost hadn't dared hope for. Instead of speaking, he pressed his lips to Anik's and kissed him hard, hoping to translate what he felt into that too-simple gesture. “If you keep this up, all your tattoos will be about me,” he murmured against Anik's lips. His voice sounded breathless, shaky.

Anik laughed again, the sound amplified by the echo in the baths. “I don't think I'll mind.”

 

* * *

 

Ren could barely take his eyes off the intricate new lines on Anik's arm, and Anik must have noticed, because when he got dressed in a clean white undershirt, he rolled the sleeve to above the tips of the black antlers to keep it on display. Ren stared at it until he was sure he had memorized all the patterning of the knotwork and then stared at it some more. It was the most blatant, obvious statement Anik could have made without outright getting Ren's name tattooed on his arm. Which, to a Lowlander, Ren supposed it already was.

“You look smitten,” Anik said with a smirk, cocking an eyebrow when Ren rubbed the same dry spot on his leg with the towel for the third time.

Heat rose in Ren's cheeks and he smiled, discarding the towel. “I am smitten,” he admitted, and then, when Anik attempted to push his still-damp hair into a ponytail, added, “Come here.”

Anik took a seat on the low bench in front of Ren and tilted his head back.

Ren ran his hands through the wavy, dark locks and took a comb off the soap tray. He drew it through Anik's hair with gentle care, coaxing loose stubborn tangles.

After a few minutes, Anik was swaying as if Ren’s careful attention had left him pleasantly boneless. Ren made a note of that for later. “In that case,” Anik said as if there’d been no lull in conversation, “I have another surprise.”

“Oh? I'm starting to like your surprises.” Ren gathered Anik's hair in one hand and wrapped the soft leather band around it with the other.

“This one comes with conditions.” Anik looked over his shoulder. His expression was more serious than Ren had expected. “And you can decline if you want to.”

Ren frowned. “Why would I decline anything you give me?”

“No, Ren,” Anik protested, and turned around on the bench, taking both Ren's hands in his own, making Ren feel suddenly very much on the spot. “It's important. I want you to know in advance that I won't mind if you say no. I'll understand. Okay?”

“Okay,” Ren said slowly, despite having no clue what he was agreeing to.

Anik tilted his head down and a single curl fell loose from the leather band. Ren brushed it behind his ear and stroked the back of his hand against Anik's cheek.

“Come with me,” Anik said, and caught Ren's hand, getting to his feet.

“Right now?”

Anik's smile replaced the sudden seriousness between them. “Why not?”

 

* * *

 

Anik led him through the castle the way they'd come. He asked for directions to the barracks and Ren offered a shortcut through the west wing that brought them out behind the guards' quarters with a view of the training grounds, where a few of Anik's company were already engaged in wrestling matches despite their long journey. Castle soldiers lined the training course, murmuring amongst themselves with curious expressions.

“I bet there have never been this many Lowlanders on castle grounds,” Anik said, following Ren's gaze.

“There haven’t,” Ren agreed. They passed a few young women who bowed their heads respectfully. Ren nodded back.

“What's the mood in the city?” Anik asked, and his cautious tone gave Ren pause.

Ren noticed tension in the line of Anik's jaw. He squeezed Anik's hand and let go to link their arms together instead. “The Frayneans will get used to it. It'll take time, but we've posted additional guards in the streets to discourage confrontations.” When Anik hesitated, Ren stepped in front of him, going up on his toes to press a kiss to Anik's stubbled cheek. “You'll be part of the family in no time. Just wait and see.”

At the mention of family, Anik's features softened and a smile replaced his tension. He brushed a lock of hair from Ren’s brow with a tenderness Ren would have thought Anik would reserve for their most private moments, but Anik didn't seem shy.

“We're here,” Anik said, turning his gaze from Ren to the benches lining the guest barracks, where a middle-aged man sat bowed over something in his hands.

“Kelad?”

When Anik said his name, the man raised his head. He had a clouded eye that reminded Ren of Jayce. Beads in different colours braided into his long hair hung over his shoulders. “So he's agreed?” Kelad asked, turning his attention from Anik to Ren.

Ren looked between them. “Agreed?”

“Not yet.” Anik took a seat on the ground in front of Kelad and held out an arm towards Ren.

Ren sat down on the dusty ground, folding his legs. He nodded a greeting to Kelad.

“Kelad is our tattooist. He did most of these.” Anik tapped his own inked arm with two fingers.

“Are you getting another one?” Ren asked.

Anik looked thoughtful. “Not me. You. If you feel up for it.”

Ren stared at him, suppressing the urge to look over his shoulder for a Lowlander who might be sitting behind him. “What, me?”

“Like I said earlier, you don't have to say yes. I don't reckon your royal court would be too thrilled.” Anik's smile was soft. Across from them, Kelad watched them without a word.

Ren bit his lip, looking down. He tugged back his sleeve. His pale skin was unmarked and smooth. He tried to imagine what he would look like with black ink swirling around his wrist like the youngest Lowlanders he’d seen. “What about you? Your people?” Ren asked, raising his head again. “Are you sure it's a good idea?”

Anik leaned against him, taking Ren's arm in a gentle hold. He smoothed his thumb over the soft skin on the inside of Ren’s wrist.“I'm offering it to you,” he said, the softness of his voice amplifying his accent in a way that would have turned Ren's legs to jelly if he wasn't already sitting. “Kelad knows more about this than anyone. He wouldn't be here if he thought it was a bad idea.”

Ren raised his gaze from Anik's hand on his wrist to Kelad's face. The older man stayed silent, but offered Ren a smile.

“All right,” Ren said, excitement stirring. “Tell me what to do.”

 

* * *

 

“Do you understand the meaning of what you're about to do?”

Kelad's hands were warm against Ren's arm after the coolness of the wet cloth drawn across his skin. The drink’s unusual taste lingered on his tongue. Anik had said it was part of the ritual, so Ren had tried his hardest not to grimace, but it had been impossible. Anik had laughed. Even Kelad had seemed amused.

This wasn't where he had thought he'd be when he woke up this morning – on a bench in the shade of the soldiers' barracks, with the sounds of sparring men and quiet conversations setting the scene for a gift of permanent artwork on his body.

Ren's gaze shifted to Anik, who sat before them with his legs crossed and hands folded in his lap. He gave Ren an encouraging nod.

Ren looked back to Kelad. “I do.”

“The earth, rivers, and skies gaze upon you as you accept the marks that reflect the person you've become. Do you accept their gaze?”

Ren swallowed the lump in his throat, but the racing of his heart seemed to push it straight back up. It wasn't the pain he was worried about. For the most part, at least. He couldn't help but think he wasn't worthy of this, that he hadn't yet done anything to deserve it. But the pride in Anik's eyes was so intense it made Ren want to deserve it. He'd work to be worthy of this honor. “I do.”

Kelad's instrument of choice was not metal purified over a flame, but a thorn from some kind of bush dipped in ink he held in the palm of his hand. Ren couldn't help but smile at the thought of Jayce's horror at the sight of it. Maybe Ren would have been concerned too if he'd seen as much infection and sepsis as the young physician had, but Ren had never heard of a single Lowlander dying from a tattoo and there was no one he trusted more than Anik. The Lowlander tattoo artists seemed to work some kind of magic with their ink and thorns.

“You haven't told me what I'm getting.” Ren looked from Kelad to Anik so he wouldn't have to watch the thorn pierce his skin.

“You'll see,” Anik said, settling back to watch.

Ren flinched at the first poke of the thorn through his skin. It was followed by another, and another, so close together that it felt like a continuous burn. Ren looked up at the sky and rolled his bottom lip between his teeth to stop the reaction of tears rising in his eyes.

“You're not being a baby.” Anik's smile was wide and perhaps a bit amused when Ren angled his head back down. “The inside of the wrist is a sensitive place. I struggled, too.”

“You were a child,” Ren reminded him, a little solemnly.

“I was thirteen.”

“Close enough.”

“You took an arrow to the shoulder. I don't think you need to worry about proving anything.”

“I'm not going to cry,” Ren insisted. He glanced back at his wrist. The new black line was barely half an inch long.

Anik raised an eyebrow. “I didn't say you were.”

“Forgive me,” Ren said softly. “I didn't mean to-”

Anik rose to his feet, urging Ren to silence. Anik tilted Ren’s head up with the tips of two fingers, leaned over him, and pressed his lips to Ren's in an unashamed display of affection that made Ren forget all about the burning pain in his wrist.

“Keep doing that for the next few hours.” Ren's free hand curled into the front of Anik's shirt.

Anik's warm breath tickled Ren's lips when he laughed.

 

* * *

 

Ren didn't cry, but the weariness creeping through his bones and muscles after over two hours of Kelad poking thorns through his skin was more intense than he'd expected. Ren leaned against the barracks wall with his eyes closed and a tightness in his brow. Once, at the halfway point, a castle servant arrived with questions about lodgings, and Anik had to send the man away because Ren was too focused to answer.

When Kelad finally released his wrist and declared that he was finished, Ren's muscles trembled involuntarily with the effort of straightening himself.

He forgot his fatigue at the sight of it. Intricate patterns of black ink curled around his wrist in elegant lines. On the inside, a prancing stag stood with one leg raised and its head held high. On the outside, a black stallion reared up, the billowing strands of its mane flowing seamlessly into the surrounding patterns.

Ren's breath caught in his throat, the tears he'd been so intent on forcing down welling in his eyes for a different reason. “It's so wide,” he said, then laughed because it wasn't at all what he had intended to say.

“Do you like it?” Anik asked, rising from his spot on the ground to take a seat next to Ren. “It'll look better once it's healed.”

Ren blew out a breath, turning his arm slowly for them both to see. “It's stunning. It's- I have no words.” His hand shook and he was no longer sure if it was from fatigue or amazement. “Translate it for me.”

Anik shifted closer, took Ren's hand in his own, and turned it over. He pointed, without touching, to the horse on the back of Ren's wrist. “Should be obvious,” he said, his smile colouring his words.

Ren laughed, a shaky little sound because he was still overwhelmed and fascinated and rubbed a little raw. “Go on, great stallion.”

“This twining pattern,” Anik said, pointing to the knotwork weaving into the horse's mane and curling around Ren's wrist, “links the horse to the stag's antlers.” He turned Ren's hand over. “Our fates meeting.” He pointed to the lower half of the wide band of ink. “The wavy lines evening out is the ground beneath the feet of the stag – your feet – becoming steady.”

“When I got my shit together,” Ren commented.

Anik laughed. “When you got your shit together.” He pointed to a spot behind the stag where the knotwork flowed into a spiral. “This represents family.” He gave Ren a soft smile. “The family you've lost but which lives on,” he followed the circle of dots around the spiral, “in your soul.”

Ren swallowed around the lump in his throat. He couldn't stop staring at the delicate spiral of black lines. Family. Soul. He'd be carrying the memory of his mother, Callun, Hellic, and Thais on his body for the rest of his life. He hadn't anticipated the rush of emotions. They forced him to close his eyes. A moment later, he felt Anik's hand against his face and soft lips on his temple.

“No gift is ever going to top this,” Ren said, voice more fragile than he'd thought it'd be. He met Anik's eyes and saw his own vulnerable honesty reflected in them. Anik had planned the whole thing, known how much it would mean to Ren. He didn't think he'd ever love someone as much as he loved Anik in that moment.

“Ready to go?” Anik asked, breaking the spell by standing and offering Ren his hand.

Ren looked around. The bench was empty. “Where's Kelad?” he asked. Ren hadn't seen him go.

“Don't worry. He does that. You can thank him later.”

Ren took Anik's outstretched hand. “I'll thank him with a year's supply of grain. Or a purebreed from the royal stables. What do you think?”

 

* * *

 

“The progress is slow but steady. Now that the majority of the Lowlander families struggling with food and housing are being relocated to Aleria and Iskaal, we can focus on rebuilding the south. The Fraynean supply wagons arrived with new building materials the week before I left Filisa. You should have seen the joy in their faces.”

Ren smiled, leaning his shoulder against the bottom corner post of his bed.

Anik strode around the room and took in its appearance with childlike curiosity. He paused by the horse figurine on the dresser and picked it up, turned it over, and stroked his thumb over the bottom. “H?”

“Hellic made it for me. When we were little.” It was a relief to find that the memories of Hellic inspired more fondness than sorrow, now. The sorrow was still there. It always would be. But he could manage it.

“He was skilled with a carving knife,” Anik said, placing the horse back on the dresser as if it were glass.

“Yeah, he was.”

Anik came over and sat on the bed next to Ren. He tugged off his boots and drew himself up onto the silken, gold-embroidered sheets, sitting cross-legged. “Tell me what it's like to be king.”

Ren smiled and shook his head before following Anik's example. Kicking off his boots, he spread out on the bed, raising his hand into the air to admire the patterned band around his wrist. “I won't be king for much longer. Once the reparations to the city are complete, the people will hold their first official election to choose a council. The first of many, I hope.”

“Will you be on the council?”

Ren nodded. “We're electing eight people. Four additional ones will be picked from the court. We'll lead the council for its first term. We need a framework for rules and regulations, to teach the council what it takes to rule a country. We'll have to draft an entirely new legal system.” Blowing out a breath, he ran his hand through his hair and felt the strands tickle his inked skin. “Progress will be slow here, too. It could take a decade or more to even settle down. But it's going to work. And most importantly, it's going to protect us from men like Halvard.”

Anik shook his head slowly, a glimmer in his eyes. “Who are you and what did you do with the insecure, spoiled brat I met here almost a year ago?”

Ren smiled and hid his eyes with the back of his hand, which made the kiss Anik pressed to his lips in the next second even more startling. Still, Ren was quick to wrap his hand around the back of Anik’s neck and keep him close to lengthen the kiss. “Come here,” he murmured.

“How's your sister?” A soft sound of fatigue left Anik as he stretched himself out alongside Ren, delightfully close, with their legs tangled. He raised his hand and pressed his palm against Ren's, their tattoos side by side, twins.

“She left for Iskaal when you left for the Lowlands. She has a lot of work to do righting Halvard's wrongs in the capital, but from what I've learned from her monthly letters, the population seems to be breathing a sigh of relief. We opened the borders between Frayne and Skarlan.”

“I know,” Anik said softly. Ren hadn't noticed Anik's fingers working the buttons of his undershirt open until Anik's warm hand stroked his chest. “You should have seen the people we rode by on our way here. These are new times, and it's thanks to you.”

“And you,” Ren said, catching Anik's chin between his fingers to keep him from looking away. “Imagine if you had left that day in Teu when I was shouting at you to stay and you tossed me the map and told me to find my own way.” He huffed. “I'd have ridden straight into a swamp, drowned myself and my horse. Halvard would have taken the North, then Draxia and the southern lands, enslaved the Fraynean soldiers and the rest of the Lowlanders and used them to sail east across the sea to conquer that, too.”

“So your stubbornness and my refusal to let go of a grudge saved the world,” Anik said, and rolled on top of Ren in a practised motion.

Ren grinned. “Pretty much.”

Anik's eyes were dark in the dim evening light. “Come with me to Filisa. After the wedding.”

“Okay.”

Anik's hair brushed the side of Ren's face when he lowered his head. Ren tilted his chin up to meet a kiss that never came.

Instead, Anik whispered against his lips. “Sai'a va haeli.”

Ren's heart stumbled over the words because he had heard them once before, in a tent on a slanting field, whispered to him in the haze of post-pleasure. He knew them, now. With his hands tangled in Anik's hair and their bodies flush together, he whispered, “I'm in love with you, too.”

 

 

End.

​

​

​