Tatterdemalion

“You’re still a bad liar.” Ezqel headed up the stairs to his study and was almost around the first turn

when he stopped and turned back. Dane stood at the bottom of the stairs, impressed that Ezqel had noticed

he wasn’t following before getting all the way to the top. “Have something you need to do?”

“Yes.” Dane wasn’t going to admit that he was anxious to get back and check on Lindsay.

There was perhaps a flicker of concern mixed into the irritation in Ezqel’s expression. It was hard to

tell with him sometimes. His expressions were not always human and his scents were unique. “Thank you

for your assistance today,” he said, the words heavy and stiff.

“It was nothing.” The flat response wasn’t rudeness, it was necessary so that no hint of obligation

remained between them. The words of old men held too much weight to be allowed to wander outside the

bounds of formality.

Ezqel tilted his head, listening for something, then frowned. “You returned Yzumrud.”

“I did. It was useful.” Dane put emphasis on the past tense. He’d taken more from Ezqel than he’d

ever intended, even if it all had been for his own purposes. The ring sat in the drawer of the desk in the room Dane shared with Lindsay, waiting to be put back in its place. He wasn’t taking it with him again.

An exhalation was the only sound of Ezqel’s surrender, but it was loud in Dane’s ears. “Very well.

Have a good evening. I doubt I will see you before you leave.”

“I’ll give your regards to Vivian and Cyrus.” Dane didn’t have much else to say, not after all this

time.

“If you speak to them before I do.” No favors. Not even the small courtesies. Ezqel turned his back on

Dane and his next steps took him out of sight.

In the kitchen, Dane washed his mouth out with cold tea and looked himself over. Blood didn’t carry

through the changes—not on his skin, anyway. He rummaged around and found some mutton and cheese to

have with the tea. The utensils he needed to cut and eat were awkward in his human hands, briefly, until he remembered how it felt to use them. By the time he was fed, standing at the counter and watching dark fall

over the herb gardens, he thought he had the hang of being human again.

Physically. Washing the dishes, watching his long fingers flicker in and out of the soapy water, he

remembered being human-bodied. His human mind, his human heart, those would be stranger to revisit.

And, if he recalled them correctly, they would be more trouble than his human flesh.

Lindsay put off practicing his magic. Taniel prodded, but Lindsay reasoned that he’d let his magic

settle into his body before he played with it. He didn’t really want to find out the hard way that it wasn’t quite ready for him yet.

He spent the rest of the day with Taniel, eating, resting, and talking. Taniel was full of stories, a book

of endless fairytales that Lindsay now knew were true. By nightfall, Lindsay still hadn’t seen Dane again.

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Tatterdemalion

Dane must’ve been busy with Ezqel or Izia or getting used to his magic again. Lindsay went up to the room

and got ready for bed. He tried to be adult about what he was feeling, but under it, he was just scared.

As he was getting changed, the door swung open. Lindsay turned around, smiling as soon as he saw

Dane stepping into the room. Dane was still wearing the robe he’d had on that morning, but it looked

somewhat the worse for wear—most of him did, actually. His hair was in disarray and his feet were dirty.

He didn’t look quite the same as when Lindsay had left him by the waterfall, but he didn’t look like he used to either. Somewhere in between—human, with only a hint of the feral.

“Taniel put you through your paces?” Dane asked, as though he hadn’t been gone all day.

“Not exactly,” Lindsay admitted, shrugging.

“You have to try it sometime.” Dane took his robe off and threw it over a chair. “Ezqel doesn’t screw

up. Usually.” His skin was flawless, paler, and he had less body hair, but there was still some in the center of his chest fading into a thin line that led to the soft curls at his groin.

“I will,” Lindsay said, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to try it and find out that it didn’t work. “Are

you all right?”

“Fine. Not dead yet or anything.” Dane sprawled on the bed and tucked one arm behind his head.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that.” Lindsay crawled up beside him and sat cross-legged.

“What’re you looking at?” Dane sighed heavily. “Lie down and go to sleep, Lindsay.”

Maybe Dane didn’t want to be seen like this. Lindsay didn’t want to make it worse, whatever the

problem was, so he curled up on his side and closed his eyes. Grown-up relationship. Extenuating

circumstances. He’d already had more than he’d ever dreamed, he reminded himself.

“Under the covers.” Dane grumbled and tugged the covers out from under Lindsay to tuck him in,

getting in beside him. “Unless you got super-heating powers from Ezqel this morning.”

“No. You think he’d let me trade up?” Lindsay wriggled under the covers.

“Not likely. He’s no fun.” Dane tucked Lindsay in and frowned at him. “You’ll need to use it

sometime, you know.”

Lindsay sighed. “I know. I just… I don’t want to try, and find out that even after all that, I’m still

broken.” He shrugged. “I don’t know what to do with it, anyway.”

“Me either.” Dane shrugged, mirroring him.

Lindsay was oddly reassured by Dane’s admission. “I think I could figure out what to do with you,

though,” he murmured, smiling wickedly. “If you’re not all worn out from playing in the dirt all day…” He

wriggled closer, rolling up so he could nudge his nose against Dane’s chin submissively and brush a kiss

over Dane’s lips. Maybe it would still work.

“I don’t get tired.” Dane’s voice dropped to a familiar purr and his hand found Lindsay’s bare hip

under the blankets.