Drizzt led Brionne back down the tunnels, back to the room with the shattered arch where he himself had awoken just a few hours ago.
"Alustriel must return soon," Drizzt explained, "And we can leave with her to Silverymoon. You'll be more comfortable there. For now, you should take what rest you can." He reached out, touching along the back of Brionne's neck, feeling the thrill of being allowed so simple a thing.
Guenhyvar padded at their side, her black tail flicking back and forth as she walked.
"It was a long day." Brionne murmured, no longer trying to convince Drizzt that he wasn't tired.
With gentle hands, Drizzt tucked his lover into the makeshift bed, throwing his own cloak over him for extra warmth. It had been spring in Brionne's world, and neither he nor Nala was dressed for the winter chill here.
Brionne gazed up at him. "There is so much I want to tell you. So much I want to say..."
Drizzt smiled gently down at him. "We will have time, I promise you."
Guenhyvar settled herself against his back, and they both smiled. "She'll keep you warmer," Drizzt said, happiness lighting his eyes. The big cat snuffled at Brionne's hair, and then started grooming the dried blood out of his hair like an over-sized tabby with her kitten.
Brionne laughed and tried to pull away, but she plopped one huge paw on his chest and went on with her work as if he hadn't protested. "Can you do nothing to help me?" he asked Drizzt, the light of the torch flickering in his eyes.
"I'm afraid you're trapped," the ranger informed him with a grin. Guenhyvar finished her work and resettled behind the young man.
"Rest now," Drizzt suggested. "I'll stay with you for a while."
Dark lashes closed over silvery eyes, fluttering over the fine cheeks before going still. Drizzt ran a hand over Brionne's back, his shoulder. He continued the comforting caress down the arm that had been so painfully bruised. There was no flicker of pain over the beautiful features, and he hadn't reacted to Guen cleaning his head-wound.
He regarded the bruised eye again. He was given a healing potion, and then struck afterwards. The thought brought Drizzt a sick feeling in his guts.
"Elf, there's some things that need sayin'." The dwarf's voice was low and worried.
"There certainly are," Drizzt replied, moving to his feet, to follow Bruenor out of Brionne's hearing.
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Lord Relder dined alone at his long formal table, or at least went through the motions. A feast was spread out before him; pheasant, quail, venison; all delicacies in a seaport city. The meat had cooled an hour ago, grease congealing on the plates, yet he hadn't taken a bite. A full goblet of wine rested at his right hand, untouched by his pale thin lips. A servant stood on either side of his chair, ready to offer a napkin or refill his glass. Neither had been required to perform their assigned task for a handful of days.
He knew he was weakening. Sleep was eluding him with vicious skill. Food, wine, it all tasted like ashes in his mouth. Losing the whore had been the end of his rival; losing the whore would be the end of Relder too, if he couldn't get him back before the last of his strength left him.
A figure moved in the flickering candlelight at the far end of the dining table. Relder ceased his idle rubbing at the ache in his left arm and stared for a moment.
Brionne's slender build. Brionne's subtle arrogance, that put such a fire into him. Relder's heart pounded like a drum in his head. Dark hair slid against fair skin as the figure came closer. Brionne, his Brionne, come back to him, returned to be his.
He felt dizzy. The room shifted in his vision, a ship on an invisible sea.
He blinked and Brionne, his Brionne, had crossed the room and was bowing in front of him.
Only Brionne never bowed, at least not in front of common household servants. Not when they were alone together. It was part of his charm, that he treated Relder as an equal; that he enjoyed serving him. At least he had until the day he took the girl Relder bought to match him and abandoned him.
And the man's hair was not the cool jet color of Brionne's, but a common dark brown. And he wasn't wearing the sleek silks that Brionne favored, but was instead clothed in tired wool and linen. Dust covered him in a fine layer. He had a missive in one hand, extended out to Relder, waiting with a servant's patience for the lord to take it from him.
Relder took the note, unfolded it and read the words it contained, written in a hand he did not recognize. His chest ached. The words made no sense. He closed his eyes a moment, seeking inner peace. He tried to calm himself enough to read the words, but still their meaning eluded him.
They are gone, all gone. Forgive me, I have failed my mistress. She is gone, with the slaves and the terrible Fey.
He ached. Gods how he ached. And the room was moving again, the floor rising, striking him. His chest burned, and the flickering candles grew dim.
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"I saw ye kissin' that boy, don't ye try to deny it." The dwarf's voice was gruff and his face red.
"I will not deny it," Drizzt replied, his own voice tight, controlled. "Nor will I deny him." At least not to my friends, he thought to himself. The idea of someone like Entreri using Brionne as a hostage left him cold.
"Is this some Drow thing ye never told me about, or did he put some spell on ye?"
Drizzt sighed, his anger growing. "It is no spell, and it is not a custom of my homeland. I want to be with him. He wants to be with me."
"But why?" The dwarf blurted. "Why turn down me own good daughter for that boy? She'd have ye in a minute. Just say the word and she'd have ye, even now."
"This isn't about her, it's about me." Drizzt returned. "I care for her, she is my friend, but I would never make a good husband for her."
"But you'd make a good husband to that...that..." Bruenor bit off the end of what he was going to say. Drizzt's lavender eyes narrowed dangerously.
"That what?"
"Whore." Bruenor met Drizzt's eyes, unashamed. "That woman named him a whore and a murderer."
Drizzt's anger left him in a rush. He's trying to protect me, he realized.
"That woman also wounded one of your dwarves and ran into the night," he reminded him.
"I'm not hearin' you say she lied."
Drizzt shook his head. "I just do not believe he would kill for any reason less than I would kill for. I've seen him fight in his own defense once, and he didn't finish the man when he could."
"And the other thing?"
"He was a slave, Bruenor. I do not know what he has done, but whatever he did to stay safe, and alive, I cannot fault him for." His tone left no room for questions.
"Can he love ye?" The dwarf's anger seemed to be fading too, his concern coming to the forefront.
"I have to believe that," Drizzt said, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "If I can believe a Drow is worthy of being loved, how could I break both of our hearts by turning him away? The risk is mine, and the rewards as well. It is a gamble I gladly take."
"Fine then." The dwarf grumbled, accepting it, or seeming to.
"Now," Drizzt began, steeling himself to listen to what could not be pleasant to hear, "About his eye..."
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