The Duelist 3, page 12
“What’s chock-hotlet?” he asked as he peeped his head out of his nest again in curiosity.
I couldn’t quite manage to hold back my smile at the sight.
“You’ll see,” I said and got to my feet. “C’mon.”
The two of us saw to the menial task of bringing the poracks into the barn for the night just to have a bit of a breather from such a heavy topic.
I wanted more than anything to know more about his life and basically who I needed to kill for this exile bullshit he mentioned, but I could tell the subject was too overwhelming to get through in one solid sitting.
And I was serious about that hot chocolate, or ‘chock-hotlet,’ as Rylan called it.
If we were going to have this heart-to-heart, we both needed to be equipped with some chocolaty goodness.
“Can you stoke up the fire, bud?” I asked him when we entered the empty kitchen.
“Okay,” he said in a monotone voice that made me frown as I walked behind Arvid’s workstation.
We needed hot chocolate stat.
“What do we have here?” I rubbed my hands together and looked around at the cabinets and pantry items scattered about. “Aha!”
One of those small canvas sacks Zoie’s favorite pappa sweets came in caught my eye, and I grabbed it, a small ceramic bowl, and something that reminded me of cheesecloth.
Then I poured the round purple candies into the center of the cloth and balled them up.
“What are you doing?” Rylan asked as he came over and sat on one of the stools at the counter.
“The center of these candies might work for our purposes,” I said and lightly crushed the makeshift cloth sack of sweets with the bottom of the bowl. I didn’t want to completely mash them, but I wanted to break off the sour outer candy shell.
When I had crushed them enough for the shells to fall away, I plucked out the dark maroon centers that reminded me of spiced chocolate truffles and threw them into the bowl. They had a texture similar to chocolate, and I just hoped they melted the same way.
After all of the naked pappa sweets were in the bowl, I bustled over to the small larder that was kept chilly with Omite cold stones and added some milk to the whole thing. Then I snatched up a wooden spoon out of the utensil jar Arvid kept on the work top, jaunted over to the hearth, and scooted the bowl as close to the flames as I could.
“Grab some mugs, and join me, would you?” I asked.
Rylan eagerly did what he was told as I worked on trying to incorporate the melting candy into the milk. Instead of a brown, it turned into a red-velvet color that smelled pretty close to what I remembered, and when all the lumps had been smoothed out, I poured an equal potion into both mugs.
“Not bad,” I said after I took a sip. It kind of tasted like Mexican hot-chocolate this way.
“This is soooo good!” Rylan gasped as he stared into the mug with a red-velvet mustache across his upper lip and then took another deep gulp.
“Don’t drink it too fast,” I warned. “You might get a stomachache.”
Rylan smiled sheepishly and lowered his mug as he tried to lick the remnants off his lips.
“Thanks,” he murmured while he stared into the flames. “I feel a little better.”
“Good,” I said and also cast my gaze to the crackling logs so he would feel more comfortable to continue his story whenever he felt ready.
Sure enough, Rylan mustered his courage just like he always did in the face of something daunting, and he took a breath.
“Someone in my Village was having a recurring dream that grew louder and louder every night until the tolling was so loud, I couldn’t ignore it anymore,” he continued. “I’ll never forget the dream. In it, the dreamer was running as fast as they could through the forests of the Western Rise until they found a river where they could wash the blood from their hands.”
“Blood?” I interjected as I set my now-empty mug down on the hearth.
“I was scared when I realized that’s what it was, and I ran away the first night,” Rylan admitted. “But the next night it called me again. And I was also curious to find out who the dreamer was because I didn’t get a good look the first time.”
“Naturally,” I said and ruffled his hair. “Nosy.”
He grinned like he wasn’t even ashamed of the fact, but then a moment later he sobered.
“So, I followed the call of the bells back into the dreamer’s dream,” he went on as he clutched the mug harder in his white-knuckled grip. “There he was again with his back to me as he crouched by the river to scrub his hands, but when I moved around him so I could see his face, I was surprised to find it was the Village Leader.”
“Which made you even more curious, I bet,” I said with a wink.
“Well, yeah!” he scoffed as he rolled his eyes. “The Village Leader never really liked me, and I thought if I could actually help him with his ‘dream-problem’ then maybe he would see there was nothing to fear about my ability. So, I did the stupidest thing and tried to look deeper to see if I could understand what was troubling him. I guess I revealed myself to him, because he threw me out of his dream and then stormed my former home looking for me. Only, he didn’t know I was living with my grandparents. It gave my grandfather just enough time to sneak me down to the Southern Harbor and onto a man’s ship. I’ll never forget how my grandfather handed over more than half his tithe stones for my safe passage to Nata. And I’ve been here ever since.”
Somewhere during Rylan’s story, my mouth had taken to hanging open in astonishment, but I closed it and cleared my throat.
“Rylan, how old were you when you were forced to leave?” I asked.
“I had just passed my eighth season,” he said.
Eight? The kid was eight when he basically had to fend for himself?
Color me impressed.
“And you’ve been alone this whole time?” I couldn’t help but pry.
“Since I arrived on Nata,” he confirmed.
“Bud,” I deadpanned. “Do you realize how resourceful you are to have survived for as long as you have? You’re thirteen?”
“Fourteen.” He shrugged and glanced away as if he was embarrassed by the praise.
“Don’t let anyone make you feel inferior ever again, you got that?” I told him seriously. “But still let them underestimate you. That way, they’ll never see you coming.”
“Okay,” he said with a lopsided grin.
“So, explain something to me,” I said as I peered at him. “How can you sleep when you’re prancing through other people’s dreams?”
“Oh, um, actually…” He squirmed and shot me a furtive look. “If I go into people’s dreams, it’s like I can’t sleep at the same time even though my body is asleep.”
“Yeah,” I said, and I poked the dark circles under his eyes. “I figured. But you need your rest, Ry. You can’t keep popping into mine no matter how much you want to help me.”
“But what if you fall into the Dark Realm again?” he asked me with a haunted look.
“The ‘Dark Realm?’” I frowned. “What is that?”
“It’s what I call the realm underneath dreaming,” he said and then scowled at himself. “I’m not describing it right, but it’s deeper than regular dreaming. Only Travelers or those with Traveler blood ever dream in this realm for some reason.”
“Is it a place with a glowing blue forest where clothing is optional, by chance?” I asked as I suddenly remembered the weird-ass dream when I had to fight a shadow-version of myself.
Naked.
“Yeah, unfortunately,” Rylan snorted. “But I was able to practice enough that now whenever I’m in the Dark Realm, my spirit self becomes a canterfly, and I don’t have to walk around without my clothes.”
“You!” I gasped when I remembered the blond butterfly-pegasus who came to my rescue. “You were the canterfly that flew me out of there.”
“You have to be careful down there, it’s not like normal dreaming,” he said, and his brown eyes opened wide again. “If you get hurt in the Dark Realm, you get hurt in the physical world, too. I found this out the hard way, see?”
He then rolled his shirtsleeve up over his shoulder so he could show me a jagged scar along the back of his arm.
“What happened there?” I leaned forward so I could examine it better.
“I fell out of a tree and landed on a sharp rock, and when I woke up, I was still in pain.” He grimaced but then smirked. “Grandmother was so furious I got blood on her sheets, I couldn’t sit for a long time after she got done whipping me.”
“I know you said she wasn’t maternal, but your grandma sounds harsh,” I remarked dryly to cover up how sad that kind of made me.
“Her methods may have been cold, but she taught me a little how to control my ability,” Rylan said with a shrug. “I still miss her.”
“Maybe there will be a chance for us to find her in the future,” I said.
“The Wandering Villages don’t stay in one place for very long,” he sighed. “And because I am no longer welcome among the people, I can never find it again.”
“Rylan, buddy, I had no idea,” I said and put my hand on his shoulder.
“It’s okay because I’m here now with you and Zoie and Shay,” he assured me as if I was the one needing comfort. Maybe I did if my face was making the expression I thought it was. “Really, Dad. I’m fine.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever get over hearing that,” I said with a fond smile at my foster-son.
Rylan smiled back and reached up to grip my wrist where I still had my hand on his shoulder.
In that moment, I honestly felt honored this clever kind-hearted kid chose to call me his Dad.
Truly.
Then the stable-boy’s eyes glazed over briefly as he let out a huge yawn, and I remembered the matter at hand.
“Seriously, though,” I chided. “You don’t need to check up on my dreams every night. You need to be getting your rest.”
“What if you need my help again?” he asked.
“Hm,” I mused. “Maybe we can come up with a code word I can think about really hard for you to hear like an alarm.”
“That could work…” he said as he mulled the thought over. “That way I would only need to be ‘awake’ if you needed me.”
“Exactly,” I said and patted him on the shoulder before I leaned back. “Sound good?”
“Yeah!” he said and gave one of those puppy-dog wiggles. “What should our word be?”
“Make sure it’s something you know you wouldn’t hear in your own dreams,” I said.
“Oh, how about ‘green sprout?’” he suggested. “I hate them a lot, but my grandmother made me eat them. I’m not likely to dream about green sprouts, yech!”
“It’s like me and broccoli,” I chuckled. “I hate broccoli.”
“Broccoli?” He giggled through the word like the oddness of it tickled him. “What is that?”
“It’s a vegetable that’s green, looks like a tiny tree, and it tastes like death,” I stated.
“Let’s make the secret word ‘broccoli’ then!” Rylan gasped with an excited grin.
“Broccoli, it is,” I said and ruffled his bangs. “Hey, Rylan… do you know why Travelers can reach the Dark Realm?”
“I don’t know, but every time I go there it’s either on my own, or with someone with Traveler heritage,” he mused as he finished off the remains of his chocolate drink. “When I worked at the palace, Lord Mec would frequently dream of the Dark Realm, but I never dared go in with him for fear he would treat me like the Village Leader if he knew my secret.”
“That’s understandable, but you don’t ever have to worry about Lord Mec,” I said with a surety I knew was true. “I’m pretty sure if Mec knew what the Village Leader put you through, he would be quite angry on your behalf.”
“Angry for me?” he asked as if he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the fact. “Why?”
“Because, kiddo,” I said as I stood and helped him to his feet so we could both put Arvid’s kitchen back to rights. “You were eight and didn’t deserve to be banished because of an ability you were born with.”
“The Leader was afraid of what I could do,” he muttered.
“Your leader was supposed to protect you, not fear you.” I let him think this over as I washed out the mugs while he made sure to sweep up any of the hard candy shells of the pappa sweets that may have fallen on the floor.
“Oh, there you two are!” Shale-Lea said as she breezed into the kitchen. Her hair was tied up and off her neck with little strands attempting to escape their confinement, and she had a faint smudge of dirt on her cheek, but she looked radiant as ever and excited about something. “Rylan, honey, I hope you won’t mind me stealing Alex away, but I have a small surprise for him.”
“A surprise!” Rylan grinned.
“It’s more mushy stuff.” The phoenix-woman winked and booped the stable-boy on the end of his nose.
“Ew, okay, Dad, you’re on your own,” he scoffed and put the broom back in its spot by the hearth.
“Hah!” I laughed and roughly brought him in for a hug. “That means you need to get to bed. And actually sleep, okay? No broccoli.”
“No broccoli,” he repeated with a grin as he looked up at me. Then he gave me one more squeeze before he let go. “Night, Shay!”
“Goodnight, darling,” she said with a puzzled smile as the kid skipped out of the kitchen. “What is ‘bracklee?’”
“An evil vegetable sent to terrorize mankind,” I deadpanned. I thought I was over my hatred of the vile veggie, but some things ran deep.
“Now I’m even more confused,” she giggled and then sauntered into my space so she could wrap her arms around my neck. “But that’s alright. I’ll let you boys have your little secrets.”
“How generous of you,” I said as I bracketed her petite waist with my broad hands. I always marveled at how doll-like she felt in my arms as if she was made of delicate porcelain, and it tended to short circuit my Man-Brain to where I actively had to tamp down the urge to throw her over my shoulder like some Cro-Magnon for some rowdy cave-sex. “Did I hear something about a surprise?”
“Maybeee,” she sang and backed me up against the table so I was forced to sit on one of the benches. Then she slowly hiked up her flowing silver gown so she could kneel on the bench between my knees and straddle one of my legs. “I hope you’re thirsty.”
“Parched,” I rasped out, and I let my legs fall open wider as my hands roamed up to lightly squeeze her perfect bottom.
My gorgeous phoenix-wife leaned forward in a heady cloud of her jasmine-scented perfume, and I could feel my cock thicken in my pants.
Just before I thought she was going to close the distance between our mouths, she instead reached around me for a bottle of wine sitting in the center of the table.
Then she leaned back to perch on my thigh and uncorked the bottle with her teeth, and I felt the sound of the bottle releasing its pop of air as if it was connected directly to my heart.
With the cork still poised between her heart-shaped lips, she tipped the bottle up to my mouth, and I took a drink of that fruity-slash-spicy wine I was growing quite a taste for.
“Do you trust me?” she asked in an intimate timbre that sent shivers down my spine.
“Forever,” I said, and I watched with growing arousal as she untied the silky scarf and undid the pretty jade comb holding her hair up.
Her scarlet and gold locks tumbled down like a waterfall, and I couldn’t help but run my hand through the long feathers at her temples.
“Ohh,” she breathed as her own shiver rocked through her, and she undulated in my lap.
Then the tempting phoenix-woman dragged the silk scarf up the V of my tunic so I could feel the satiny texture across my throat and then over my lips.
“Shay,” I groaned as I flexed my fingers around her waist.
“Trust me,” she whispered before she kissed me and then tied the scarf over my eyes.
A thrill ran through me and caused my blood to sing.
“Lead on,” I said with bated breath.
Chapter 9
“Where are you taking me?” I laughed for the tenth time as Shay led me with only the sound of her singing under her breath.
“You’ll see,” she answered like she did the last nine times, and I heard her take another sip from the wine bottle she brought with us. “Just follow the sound of my voice. I know you’re good at this. Zoie told me so.”
“She did, did she?” I listened to the melodious cascade of her voice as I took extra care to blindly place my feet on the somewhat rocky trail she led us on. “What else did she tell you?”
“She also told me about how you and her had something called a ‘date’ and it reminded me about our money-hoon,” she giggled, and I followed the sound as it mingled with another familiar noise: rushing water.
“Our honeymoon?” I asked as the scent of the forest began to change, and I knew we were getting closer to the water’s source.
“Oh, I knew I was saying it wrong,” she giggled again, and the enchanting sound was so entrancing, I almost lost my focus and my footing. “Zoie and I have been watching how hard you’ve been working these past few days, husband, and we thought you could use a break.”
I heard her come to a stop, and I did so as well when she grabbed my hand.
“Shay?” I questioned when I felt her walk around me and gently rest her hands on my shoulder blades.
“Okay, darling,” she said and untied the scarf from around my eyes.
I blinked them a few times in the pale moonlight and gawked at the picturesque sight.
“Baby…” I said, but then I lost the rest of what I was going to say at the romantic picnic scene that greeted me.
Like a goddamn Bob Ross painting, a massive bonsai-looking tree with a curved trunk and feathery branches shrouded a small waterfall. On the mossy bank tucked up right next to the gnarled tree, Shay had arranged a lounge area complete with comfortable-looking cushions, quilts, and a picnic basket emitting the heavenly aroma of roasted meat.
