Chapter 3: Talking

It's a few more days before Doctor Illala lets Emrys get out of bed. He's always healed quick, and her expertise wasn't oversold. On her orders, Emrys can get up and walk around on his own, but not yet outside his bedroom.

He's got a dark bruise up his side, but the breaks in his ribs have healed enough that they no longer throb constantly. His wrist has healed almost entirely. There's an angry red line drawn across his inner arm where the ghoul's claw dug in deep and tore away at the tendons that will linger for a long time before it fades like his other scars. Thanks to the doctor's work -- both magic healing and mundane stitching -- it hardly even itches now.

The shoulder is another story. He's bound up in a sling to keep it relatively immobile while upright. It, too, is healing well, but the ghouls that grabbed him yanked it clean out of the socket and tore the flesh apart at once. Clearly, the goal was to take it off entirely, and they just about managed it. A pair of broken ribs is nothing compared to almost losing an arm. He'll have to stretch and exercise it eventually to build the muscle back up, but not for a long while yet.

Emrys doesn't fight the doctor again. He lets her poke and prod at his injuries without complaint, gritting his teeth against colorful oaths. Her magic digs into his muscles, helping his body weave back together and reconnect muscle to bone. Then, she wraps him up again, gives him an update on his status, and lets him get on with his day of resting.

This is how it's been for an entire week, and Emrys is bored. He's at least allowed to get up and walk around his room. He prowls back and forth until it becomes too exhausting and he has to sit down again (which happens quicker than he'd like to admit). The only highlights amongst the boredom are when Aesind comes to visit, usually at dinnertime, to share a meal and conversation.

Today, though, he comes just before noon. With absolutely nowhere to go and no one to impress, Emrys had been lounging in one of the comfortable arm chairs before the fire, considering for the thousandth time the number of gray stones that were used to construct the chimney.

Aesind enters after a polite knock as though he doesn't own the place. He's dressed neatly but informally, as he often is, though today he's wearing a fitted cream-colored vest over his billowing russet shirt rather than a corset. He wanders to the side of Emrys's chair, quirks an eyebrow and an amused smile, and sets a hand to one hip.

"Want to go outside with me?"

Emrys practically leaps out of his chair. He struggles to button his shirt all the way up but manages it with minimal swearing. Aesind politely averts his eyes, surveying the pretty blue sky out the windows instead of observing the injured physique Emrys sports. He knows he's not the worst thing to look at, but the bandages still covering him and the sling-brace holding his shoulder together aren't exactly pretty.

There's no way Emrys can put his boots on, though. He stares at them for a while, then lifts his gaze to Aesind, who's watching him with an air of patient waiting. After a moment, Aesind gives him a pretty little smile and offers to bring him a set of slippers.

Thirty minutes later, Emrys has his feet tucked into a plush pair of brown slippers and his lungs full of fresh, clean air. He's seen the gardens from the windows in his room, and just as Aesind said, it's a great view. Far off in the distance, the garden becomes a maze which fades into lush, golden trees. But seeing the splashes of color and greenery from afar is worlds apart from breathing it in and existing within it at ground level. The air is still cool, holding a promise of springtime warmth to come. A weight he didn't know he'd been carrying falls away. It leaves him light as a feather, damn near skipping along the garden paths.

The garden is one part florals for show, two parts practical vegetation. Much of it is still young or reemerging after the winter, but it's already beautiful. Aesind gives Emrys a tour through the neat rows, but he doesn't seem to know much beyond the basic names of things.

"I don't have much of a green thumb," he says with a shrug and a wistful smile. "Mostly, I come out here to think. It's helpful to get out of the study every so often and remind myself of life outside my books."

Emrys pauses to admire a rose bush full of promising, dark red buds. He dips slightly to press his nose to one velvety bud, inhaling deeply despite it being far from blooming. Even now, Emrys can detect its subtle scent. Somehow, it pales in comparison to the floral perfume Aesind wears. But it reminds him of home.

"My mother would love it out here," Emrys says without thinking. He straightens, tears his eyes away from the flower bud. "And my younger brother, Lynnas, he'd be all over the irrigation system you've got going on."

"Is that so?" Aesind asks, peering downward at the matte silver pipes that wind through the garden. "I've never given it much thought, honestly." He looks back to Emrys. "Your brother is interested in gardening, then?"

"Yes, but he mostly likes to tinker with stuff, figure out how it works. I don't really get it, but it makes him happy, so we let him do whatever he'd like."

"I see." Aesind smiles. "Archimedes is the one who had it all put in. He's got a passion for innovation and new sciences. I'm sure they'd find plenty to talk about."

"And we'd never see either again," Emrys says dryly.

It makes Aesind laugh, nose crinkling, and Emrys feels his entire chest glow warm.

They walk in silence for a while, listening to birdsong and buzzing insects and the early spring breeze. Emrys has been indoors so long, he missed the first days of emerging buds and brand-new growth. But that's alright; the energy of new life still courses through every inch of this place. There are edible plants throughout the garden, and Emrys recognizes a few familiar herbs swaying fragrantly in the chilly breeze as they walk. The bush of rosemary is enormous despite obvious spots where it's been clipped for recent dinners. Emrys plucks a small sprig of it and presses it to his nose.

Lynnas would love it here, yes, but so would Westrys, their fourth-born. He could make a thousand drafts just from a single bed in this place...

"You have several brothers, right?" Aesind asks suddenly.

Surprised, Emrys replies, "I do, five of them. Why?"

"You're oldest?"

"Yes?"

"What's your family like?"

Emrys stops, gives him a confused look. "What? Why?"

Sighing, Aesind runs a hand over the side of his face. All of a sudden, he seems absolutely exhausted. Up until now, the man has been his usual friendly self, chatting casually about nothing. He sinks onto a nearby stone bench and leans heavily against the armrest.

"I've just -- I realized I don't know anything about you, really." Aesind fidgets with the edge of his sleeve, and Emrys realizes he's got a smattering of shiny scars on his palms. "You've been here for a couple weeks. The only things I know about you have come from your family's letters or indirect information I already had about the Symmonet Clan and their work. So I'm curious."

Emrys examines the pretty, tired man for several long seconds. He considers himself a fairly good judge of character. As the oldest of six, he's something of an expert in the art of spotting liars, troublemakers, and secret keepers. Aesind strikes him as a fine person with a silver tongue. He tells just enough truth to get by without revealing too much of himself. Aesind's curiosity is a given. You don't end up the consort of a powerful godkin overlord without some measure of mental fortitude and willingness to dig deep.

But the lines around Aesind's wide green eyes are deep, too.

"What's going on?" Emrys asks sharply, suddenly concerned something's gone wrong out in the world.

"Nothing so urgent," Aesind assures him quickly, waving a hand to urge Emrys to sit by him. As Emrys does sit a respectful distance away at the other edge of the bench, Aesind adds, "It's a whole thing. Politics, you know. Not my forte, though I tend to get involved against my will more and more these days." He sighs, turns his eyes skyward. "To be honest, part of the reason I invited you out here was to hide."

"To hide." A note of disbelief colors Emrys's voice, turning it almost rude. "You're the mate of the godkin master of this place and the entire Golden Valley, what in hell are you hiding from?"

"Suitors," Aesind mutters darkly, and his mouth twists to the side. He mimes spitting into the evergreen shrub at his elbow. "Damned vultures. May they rot."

Suitors. Suitors? Surely Emrys heard wrong.

"No one will argue with me if I've got somewhere else to be or something to attend to," Aesind continues sullenly. "But with nothing and no one, I've got no defense. Just this morning, one of them interrupted me in the library while I was reading." He turns wide, comically offended eyes toward Emrys. "While I was reading! And visibly taking notes! Who does that? It's common etiquette to let a man read in peace anywhere, but particularly within the sacred confines of a library. And they expect to win me over like that. Unbelievable."

"You're talking about people trying to court you?" Emrys blurts. "Aren't you mated to Archimedes?"

"Yes, and you'd think that would instill some sense of respect in them. Pompous, fluffed-up, irritating fools, the lot of them." Aesind slumps further against the stone. "What a waste of my time."

"Hold on. Fucking -- what?" Emrys tries very hard and fails to control the tone of his voice. It comes out rough and incredulous, not at all the sort of respectful guest he ought to be. No better than the apparent suitors Aesind so disdains.

"If you want further explanation, I'm afraid it comes with a healthy dose of venting." Aesind rolls his eyes, not at all the formal host he ought to be, and Emrys feels slightly better about his own behavior. "You're sure you want to know?"

Over the course of their daily dinner conversations, topics have never strayed into anything even remotely political or overly personal. Mostly, it's been observations about the day, updates on the ghoul infestation, and whatever Aesind's been reading most recently. The man can hold a conversation all on his own, which suits Emrys just fine. He's not unpleasant to listen to.

And right now, he seems like he could use a friend. Not that Emrys wants to be friends, necessarily. But being on good terms with him is important while he's staying here, and it would benefit the clan after he goes home, too.

He drapes his good arm along the back of the bench, pivoting to face Aesind more directly.

"Consider me curious and available for venting," Emrys says.

With a scoff, Aesind grins, which morphs into a grimace. "How much do you know about godkin society?"

"Some. The average amount, I'd say. They keep to themselves, manage their regions, and govern monst -- er, that is, supernatural society."

"It's fine," Aesind says with flat humor. "You can call them monsters. Many of them are, though they might purport to be upstanding members of society." He sighs yet again, longer this time. "Without going into too much detail, since it isn't really mine to tell, Archimedes is the sort of godkin who would typically take a second mate. One to, eh, impregnate and one to be impregnated by."

Emrys nods slowly. He already knew that godkin biology is somewhat different than the biology of other creatures in the world. To hear it spoken about so plainly is... well, it's got his ears burning, to say the least.

"Choosing me as his first mate was controversial, see." Aesind gestures loosely to himself. "Not only am I entirely human, I'm not able to have his children. I don't have the proper equipment for it. And I'm not exactly what you'd call a stud. It just isn't how our dynamic works."

"And godkin mate permanently," Emrys adds thoughtfully, trying hard to not imagine the equipment of the very pretty man sprawled out on the bench beside him. "So..."

"So, they missed one chance to set Archimedes up with someone already." Aesind brushes a stray curl off his forehead. "His kind, I mean. They've been sending suitors for the last year to try and convince him to take a second mate already, since we've been together for several years now, but one of his requirements is that they bond with me, as well. Archimedes isn't otherwise interested."

"Ah. And I'm assuming that isn't going over well, either."

"Oh, what gave you that idea? It's going perfectly."

The bite of sarcasm shocks a bark of laughter out of Emrys, and Aesind cracks a sharp grin.

It takes on a bitter curl as he continues, "They've sent other godkin, but they're not interested in me in the slightest, and so we reject them all outright with few exceptions. So they send their human or half-human or varyingly supernatural nobles instead, people they can control from the outside. Acceptably powerful or rich people who are just foolish enough to let them have that control. It might be better if just the godkin sent their representatives. We've rejected so many that other factions have started sending their own suitors. Just last week, I had to disinvite a vampire from the grounds to get him to stop following me around." He takes on a smug tone. "The idiot didn't think I could, actually. He accused me of being an interloper, but when Archimedes isn't here, I'm master of the house. My word is law."

"Found that out the hard way, huh?" Emrys chuckles. "Remind me to not piss you off."

"Ha. Sure." Aesind sighs. "Word of my pickiness has reached every corner of the realm. You'd think they'd figure out that it'll take more than a pretty face or powerful magic to win me over, let alone Archimedes. At least they've stopped sending women. It's the only preference I hold that they respect in any real capacity."

"I take it your current guests aren't so easily turned out as a vampire," Emrys says with a jutting thumb toward the manor looming behind them. It's a massive structure of light-colored wood and large red bricks, constructed of sweeping arches, tall columns, and countless balconies hanging precariously from each of the four floors. One could very easily get lost in there. Or lose a pursuer, as the case may be.

"No, not so easily," Aesind groans, head lolling backwards. He gestures emphatically as he complains at the sky. "They've been horrifyingly stubborn. Three came this time, all at once, all from opposing political factions. Not only do they not get along with each other, they don't even really like me. One of them at least hides it well enough, and I suppose he'd be a nice guy if not for the poor seduction attempts and sheer levels of ignorance he displays at every opportunity."

"Is he the reading interrupter?" Emrys asks.

"Ugh, yes." His head rolls back toward Emrys dramatically. "I shouldn't be so surprised. Given how the word no seems to escape his understanding, it makes sense that he'd intrude even after being warned away by several of the staff."

"Why not tell them all to leave now?"

Aesind sighs again with a halfhearted shrug. "I can't. We're required by social etiquette to give them at least a chance. We can reject whoever we want, but I can only kick them out early if they do something demonstrably wrong. Abusing the staff, threatening another suitor, being directly and purposely rude, that sort of thing. Nothing they've done so far is enough, I'm afraid. They're just annoying."

"Hence the hiding."

"Hence the hiding, indeed." Aesind smiles at Emrys with a gleam of conspiratorial humor. "You make for a very good cover, you know. You've gotten me out of every uncomfortable dinner with this lot thus far. They'll dare to invade my personal space, but not a total stranger's, particularly one who is a personal guest of the lord of the house because he's healing from a terrible injury. That would be a one-way ticket to the thicket, to be sure. I'm quite grateful."

That makes Emrys laugh aloud for real, loud and long and aching in his still-healing ribs. Through his wincing laughter, Emrys replies, "I'm happy to have been of service."

"I'm glad you're not offended. I worried you'd be annoyed I've been using you to avoid my responsibilities."

"Responsibilities?" Emrys snorts rudely. "Sounds to me they're burdens. I'm here because Archimedes saved my life, and you're helping me heal quicker than anything. You're welcome to use me however you see fit."

Aesind's grin takes on a slanted, teasing quality. "Noted."

Heat fans out over Emrys's face. He turns his entire body the other direction to hide with a muted grunt. It means he spots a flash of fabric disappearing behind a bush just around the corner, not far from where they're seated.

Emrys is up in a flash. Injured or not, he situates himself directly between the threat and the soft, squishy, pretty man behind him.

"Who's over there?" he demands at the same time Aesind asks what's wrong. "Quit lurking and come out here."

A narrow, thin-lipped man peers around the corner sheepishly. He smooths down the already pin-straight black hair atop his head and emerges more fully. The guy's dressed like a noble who knows he's meant to impress but not too much. Polished but casual, pressed shirt but no jacket, shined shoes and fitted pants but no flashy adornment.

"Apologies for startling you, sir," the man says in a wheedling, nasal tone that sets Emrys's teeth on edge. "I was unaware our host was otherwise occupied, entertaining another guest."

Emrys peers over his uninjured shoulder at Aesind, who gives him an exasperated look. He rises from the bench, straightens his vest, and steps up beside Emrys. His posture radiates importance and regality, terribly different from the kindly, somewhat sarcastic persona he usually dons around Emrys. It's a fitting mask, one he wears with seeming ease.

"Mr. Reedus, I did inform you I would be busy visiting with my healing guest this afternoon," Aesind informs the uninvited man in a way that communicates both terse irritation and polite nobility. "And I do believe I requested specifically to not be bothered. Mr. Symmonet's health is still quite precarious, and as you see, you've disturbed him greatly."

Precarious, huh? Alright.

Emrys makes a show of placing a hand to his injured arm, wincing with a hiss as though standing so abruptly strained it. It's an easy act to put on with the twinge of pain still radiating in the joint.

"Perhaps Mr. Symmonet might return to his private lodgings to recover from his fright," Reedus says, his beady eyes darting about and making him appear like a startled prey creature.

"Yes, I think so." Aesind's hand lands on Emrys's elbow to turn him away. "I'll escort you back."

Reedus clears his throat. "And then, perhaps, we might resume our conversation from earlier this afternoon with regards to His Lordship?"

Momentarily hidden behind Emrys, Aesind's lip curls into a sneer. Emrys decides to swiftly rescue him from saying something he'll regret.

"Actually, I was just going to ask if you'd like to share a cup of tea." He shoots a benignly poisonous smirk toward Reedus. Rapidly, he fumbles for a word to use for Aesind, suddenly uncertain how to refer to him. He comes up short and simply says, "He had just mentioned reading a fascinating book just earlier today, and I'd hoped for more details, you see. An indulgence to help distract from the pain."

"Ah, yes," Reedus stammers, struggling for something productive to say. Anything to keep his chances alive. "I'd hoped the same, really, and --"

Back to something bearing a passing resemblance to politeness, Aesind cuts him off. "I think not. My schedule for the remainder of the day is fully occupied. Perhaps tomorrow, Mr. Reedus."

Aghast at the dismissal and incapable of taking a rather obvious hint, Reedus doubles down. "You cannot possibly allow this -- this interloper to --"

"I can, and I am." Aesind's polite neutrality sharpens to a point. "You've rather overstayed your welcome today, Mr. Reedus. If this is a show of your manners and grace, you may consider me wholly unimpressed. I will certainly be discussing your behavior with His Lordship on his return, so that he might inform your people of all that's occurred during your visit."

Dismayed, the little man takes a few steps forward, hands aloft. "No need for such drastic measures, my dear, we can --"

"I am not your anything," Aesind snaps, eyes flashing dangerously.

"Of -- of course, of course, just a figure of speech," Reedus says. For whatever reason, he keeps coming closer. "There is much to come before that point. As I mentioned earlier, it is imperative that we spend as much time together as possible in order to resolve these unfortunate misconceptions. If not for this guest of yours absorbing so much of your attention, perh--"

"Enough," Aesind says, and the warm breeze seems to freeze all around them. "I've tolerated your nonsense thus far, but you will not insult my guest. There is no longer any need for you to stay to meet His Lordship. You will pack your things and be gone by dusk. Inform your master she's not to send another candidate. I've had quite enough from you people."

At that, Emrys offers the arm not currently in a sling, which Aesind takes with a polite incline of the chin. They turn sharply as a unit and march out of the gardens toward the manor, ignoring the protests of Mr. Reedus as they diminish in the distance.

As the pair enter the wide glass doors leading into the main hallway on the first floor, Aesind snaps his fingers to summon a set of guards from the shadows. Their polished armor and heavy swords clank as they salute, having received their orders to remove Reedus from the property if he refuses to leave by himself.

Aesind does escort Emrys back to his room on the second floor, but he doesn't leave him at the door. Instead, he charges right inside and throws himself into one of the armchairs before the fireplace with a hearty groan.

"I understand the need to hide more than ever," Emrys says, taking the other chair with less gusto.

"Maybe I can kick the other two out while I'm at it." Aesind chews on the corner of his thumb, glaring at the embers glowing in the fireplace. "They're hardly better. This could be a good enough excuse."

They sit in companionable quiet for a while while Aesind gets all his glaring and mutterings out.

He's horrifyingly cute, Emrys thinks, then promptly shoves it away. Emrys just folds one leg over his knee and waits. He's good at being patient.

"So, is he the reason you decided to ask about my family?"

Propriety and holding his tongue, not so much.

Aesind's glare flits from the dying fire to Emrys, softening as it goes. He shrugs. "Something like that." His eyes dart away again, sadder this time. "These suitors make a lot of assumptions based on hearsay. Not one of them wants to actually get to know me."

I'll bet it gets lonely, Emrys swallows. It isn't his place. He might be a blunt weapon, but he knows when his ham-fisted approach would be unwelcome.

"I'll get to know you," he says instead, feeling awfully childish as the words slip past his meager filter.

Pretty pink lips part in surprise as wide green eyes grow ever wider. Then his eyes narrow into a squint and his lips press into a purse, both good-natured, both highly entertained. Aesind says, "Ah, but you're not trying to get close to me just to fuck my partner, are you?"

"Haven't decided yet," Emrys drawls, leaning back in his chair in hopes that the distance will keep Aesind from seeing the wine-dark flush growing over his face. "I'd have to meet the guy first."

Aesind laughs then, full-throated and so full of mirth that it makes Emrys laugh, too. It is, he thinks, one of the most incredible sounds he's ever been blessed enough to hear.

"Seriously, though," Emrys wheezes through the sting of giggle-induced tears (only partly because of the fierce burning in his ribs), "if you want company or to get away from pricks like that, I'm fine being your excuse."

"I appreciate it."

Something between them thaws -- a barrier Emrys wasn't aware of.

On the verge of threatening sentimentality, Emrys clears his throat. "Besides, this is a good way to repay you for helping me out."

"Sure," Aesind hums, nodding to himself and still smiling.

A thought occurs. Emrys says, "How am I supposed to refer to you, by the way?"

An audible eyebrow raise. "By my name?"

Emrys gives him a dry look. "I mean in the presence of your other guests. Formally. What's your title? I don't think I'd call you ‘Your Lordship,' would I?"

"Oh. No, no, you wouldn't." Aesind runs his thumb over his bottom lip, thinking, and Emrys definitely does not stare. "The staff call me Master Aesind. Officially, my title is Lord Consort, sometimes shortened to just Consort. Either of those or just my name is fine."

"What about your last name?"

"I don't have one."

Emrys blinks. "Oh."

There are only three types of people in this world who don't have last names: godkin (who simply use "of Wherever They Rule" in lieu of a single name), outcasts, and orphans. One is easy to rule out, obviously. The other two...

It would be impolite to ask.

"Lord Consort Aesind, it is," Emrys says.

His nose wrinkles cutely. "Ugh."

"Master Aesind, I suppose?"

"Never in private," Aesind replies firmly. "I've a distaste for the whole nobility thing. It's a necessity in public spaces, but in my own home, I expect to be treated as I want to be, not as society says I ought to be."

Emrys sets his chin in his hand, propped up on the armrest. "Just Aesind, then."

"Just Aesind." He returns Emrys's gaze for a beat of silence, seemingly lost in thought. Then, all at once, he stands and claps his hands together. "Ah! The tea. I'll call for some to be made. And then, Mr. Symmonet, I expect you to make good on your intention to listen to me ramble about this book. It's really quite good, which is unexpected, as I didn't enjoy the author's other works so much. Then again, it is an entirely different topic, so..."