To those of you who have been reading Knight of Rot & Ruin, I'm sure you're all looking forward to something that isn't just saturated in angst. So, in order to cleanse your palate and give you a tiny break from the misery, here's another chapter of this fic!
CHAPTER SEVEN
Shion stood over the cauldron, reveling in the scents of freshly cooked beef and vegetables. He'd been saving the meat for a special occasion—preserving it with his magic—but tonight seemed as good a time as any. When would be the next time Shion had the honor of hosting a guest?
As he stirred the concoction, gently lifting the ladle and admiring the large chunks of potato, he listened to the sounds of Nezumi breathing from the other side of the cabin.
After Shion had finished stitching his arm, he'd bandaged up the injury and instructed Nezumi to lay down and get some rest. Nezumi seemed uneasy about laying down in a stranger's bed, but Shion assured him he'd be on the other side of the cabin, cooking some stew for them to eat.
Shion smiled. It wasn't the first time he'd started cooking at night. Sometimes, when anxiety plagued him, he boiled some water and mixed in herbs to craft a sleeping brew.
Cooking stew was a much bigger beast, but Shion had already spent the evening chopping the vegetables and meat to put together in the morning. He was simply freeing himself some time.
Nezumi hadn't said much since Shion finished cleaning his room. When Shion cleared away the needle and spool of thread, he'd heard Nezumi murmur, "Thank you."
He hadn't stopped smiling since.
Shion gave the stew a few more stirs before ladling a bit into one of the clean, stone bowls he kept on the nearby shelf. Steam drifted into his face; Shion inhaled the comforting scents of herbs and exhaled, content.
Cooking wasn't too different from putting together potions, and Shion had picked up a few tricks from his mother. He felt a surge of pride as he fetched a spoon from the drawer and turned to face Nezumi.
He'd finally stretched out on the cot, resting on his back. He seemed to be favoring his uninjured shoulder, cushioning the bandaged one of the pillow. His eyes had been closed; the moment Shion took a step forward, they flicked open, silver glinting in the dim blue light, and darted in Shion's direction.
Shion took another step forward, holding the bowl of stew between them like an offering. "I made you something to eat," he said softly.
Nezumi looked at the bowl, and then back at Shion. "What did you put in it?"
"Potatoes, some beef, and a few vegetables from my garden."
Nezumi narrowed his eyes.
"You can't honestly believe that I would take the time to stitch your wounds if I intended to poison you."
"I don't know where your interests lie."
Shion closed his eyes and huffed. "If it'll make you feel better, I'll taste it first." He went to dip the spoon into the dark brown stew, but Nezumi made a sound in the back of his throat. Shion looked up. "What?"
"If you did poison it," Nezumi pointed out, "you'd probably use something you're immune to."
"I'm… not immune to poison."
"No?" Nezumi raised an eyebrow. "Strange."
Shion pressed his lips together. So his magic was different than what Nezumi was accustomed to. Shion had anticipated as much, given the strange symbols etched on Nezumi's boots and woven into the lining of his cloak, but to think that the witches Nezumi knew were immune to toxins?
Shion felt a spike of excitement at the prospect of learning more about the magic thriving in the world. He shoved it aside. Nezumi already didn't trust him and his "over-eager Personality"; if Shion wanted Nezumi to trust him, he'd need to stay calm a while longer.
"Here." Shion came up beside Nezumi and offered the bowl of stew to him. "I promise it's not poisoned."
Nezumi slowly eased himself into a sitting position. "And how am I supposed to know that?"
"You're not. I suppose you're going to have to trust me."
Nezumi narrowed his eyes and stared up at him. Shion kept a pleasant smile on his face, assuring Nezumi through the expression on his face and the calming atmosphere of the cabin that he didn't mean him any harm.
An eternity passed before Nezumi reached out with his uninjured arm and took the bowl of stew.
Shion's heart warmed, but he gently helped guide it down to the cot, murmuring, "Careful, it's still hot."
Nezumi clicked his tongue, but didn't press any further about poisonings.
Shion watched as Nezumi dipped the spoon into the bowl and brought a bit to his lips. He tentatively tasted it. Shion's heart hammered with anxiety, but he smiled as Nezumi took another bite of the stew, and then another.
Shion grinned as he watched Nezumi eat a few more bites. His fingers were long and pale, elegantly holding the spoon. The dim blue light radiating from the flower charms glinted against the strands of his long, dark hair. As it had been the first time Shion encountered him, Nezumi's hair was pulled to the back of his skull, held in place by a strong piece of leather cord. Shion wondered if that, too, had runes etched in it to keep his hair from getting tangled.
"…You're staring at me."
Shion jolted from his thoughts. "What?"
Nezumi looked at him from over the rim of the bowl. "It's no wonder you never have any guests. Don't you know it's impolite to stare?"
"S-sorry!" Shion's face burned as he lowered his gaze to the cot. He could see the leg of Nezumi's trousers in his periphery.
Nezumi clicked his tongue again. "It's good, though."
Shion lifted his head. "…The fact that I was staring?"
"No." Nezumi looked over at him, an incredulous look plastered across his face. "The stew. Gods, you're dense. Seriously, how have you survived this long on your own?"
"Oh." Shion ducked his head, embarrassed at the mistake, but also buzzing with warmth. Nezumi had complimented him. Shion closed his eyes, took a steadying breath—smelling the lavender and the herbs—and steadily began to relax.
⁂
"So, how did you injure your shoulder?"
Nezumi glanced up from the bed. After he'd finished the stew, Shion had brought him over a mug of purified water with just a nip of honey for flavor. Nezumi took slow, gentle sips from the mug while Shion cleared away the dirty dishes. He quickly set to work washing them, as he never enjoyed leaving dishes to sit overnight.
"I was out hunting," Nezumi mumbled.
"At night?" Shion knew that the hunters in Kronos sometimes went out in the evenings, but the threat of wolves, bears, and the chance of encountering one of the Mao kept them close to the village.
"There's a type of deer," Nezumi explained. "A rare one. It only comes out in the winter months, and only in the evenings. We use the horns and bones for potions. The meat can be preserved for months, so it's necessary to surviving the winter."
"Oh," Shion said, dreamily imagining the sort of deer Nezumi could have been hunting.
Nezumi took another sip of the honey water. "It's usually not wise to hunt after dark, but once in a while is acceptable." He grimaced. "I just happened to get unlucky."
"What happened?"
Nezumi gave him a sardonic smile. "I pissed off the Lady of the Forest."
Shion's stomach clenched.
"Well, pissed off probably isn't the best way to describe it. I'd have left with much worse than a scratch if I'd truly offended her." Nezumi gave his wounded shoulder a firm glare, and then he looked back up at Shion. "I chased a deer into a clearing, and I think I must have taken aim at the Lady of the Forest by mistake. She must have been lingering close by."
"The… Lady of the Forest?"
"Yes." Nezumi raised an eyebrow. "You don't know of her?"
"We… don't tell those sort of stories in Kronos." Shion wrung his wrists and looked at the ground. The tiny purple buds pushing through the floorboards looked soft as silk; Shion wanted to run his fingers over them, pulling just an extra bit of energy into his body, but he resisted the urge. Doing so would kill the blossoms before they had the chance to grow. "My own knowledge of the old gods is… limited, at best."
"Hm." Nezumi looked up at the beehives tucked in the corner of the cabin. "I would have guessed you knew something of her, since you surround yourself with her messengers."
Shion whirled and stared at the honeybees. They'd retreated to their hive for the evening, nestled down with their queen to sleep until the morning light.
"…You didn't know."
"No," Shion breathed.
"She won't harm you," Nezumi said. He looked at his shoulder, and then amended, "Unless you point an arrow at her. It was an accident, but she gave me a warning, all the same. I was far from the Mao village when it happened. I must have wandered closer to your cabin than anticipated. The storm came suddenly and made it difficult to see."
"Do you think…" Shion looked down at the floor, steeled his courage, and said, "Do you think she could have guided you to my cabin so I could help you?"
Nezumi peered down into his mug.
Shion shifted from one foot to the other. On the rack behind him, the stew dishes sat drying in the artificial spring warmth of the cabin. There were no signs that just beyond the curtains, winter raged violent and strong, concealing hidden creatures Shion could only imagine.
"That's a theory, I suppose." Nezumi set the mug down on the floor. He winced as his bandaged shoulder shifted, but he sat up without difficulty before Shion could try and offer him assistance.
Shion smiled down at his hands. Whatever the reason behind Nezumi's arrival, Shion was grateful for the chance to help him. If this supposed Lady of the Forest had wounded Nezumi to teach him a lesson, it also seemed possible that she'd managed to guide Nezumi to his cabin. It also seemed possible that she'd roused Shion from a deep slumber to bring Nezumi inside, warm him, and stitch his wound closed.
"Well," Shion said softly. "I'm sorry you were injured. But I am grateful to see you again."
Nezumi huffed. Shion couldn't erase the smile from his lips as he crossed the cabin and knelt beside the cot.
"You should probably rest a bit longer," Shion murmured. "Your shoulder's still injured. Sleep will help you recover."
"That desperate to get me off guard, are you?" Nezumi cocked his head to the side, a vicious smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Even wounded, I can still escape if you try anything funny."
"You're still on that?" Shion sighed. "I might be an outsider, but I'm not going to hurt you. If I wanted to, I would have done it already."
Nezumi's silver eyes flashed. "You think so, do you?"
"Absolutely. You're injured. If I wanted to poison you—which I don't—I would have done it the moment you came into my cabin. If I had any real intentions of ending your life, I could have done it quite—"
The world spun as Shion suddenly pitched forward. His breath puffed out in an alarmed gasp as Nezumi grasped hold of his wrist with his uninjured arm and yanked him forward.
In an instant, Nezumi had Shion's spine pressed flat on the lavender-scented cot. Shion's head lay nested on the pillow, the blankets tangled around his ankles. Shion gasped, only now becoming aware of Nezumi's hand around his throat.
He didn't press hard enough to cut off the flow of oxygen, but he did press hard enough to make a point. Nezumi straddled Shion's hips with his own, pinning him to the cot with his body. A dark smile stretched across his lips as he leaned forward and said in Shion's ear, "Is that right?"
Shion inhaled. Intermingled with the scent of lavender and herbs from the stew was a strange undercurrent of jasmine petals and leather. Nezumi was a firm weight on top of him, their bodies pressed together and painfully warm where their limbs connected.
"That," Shion said, breathless, "was incredible."
Nezumi stilled above him.
"How—how did you do that? You were so fast! I couldn't even see you move!" Shion squirmed beneath Nezumi, testing out his abilities to move his arms. He could only wiggle them a bit, but Nezumi's weight kept him pinned to the cot. "Oh, but your shoulder! You shouldn't move that quickly! You could have pulled the stiches out."
The fierce expression on Nezumi's face shifted into a look of confusion. "You… what?"
Shion looked into his eyes. The quicksilver color of his irises glimmered with alternating shades of blue and dark purple. Shion thought it looked pretty, but not as lovely as Nezumi's true eye color: that unmarred silver, like the edge of a blade in sunlight.
"…You're so weird." Nezumi shifted, half-rolling off Shion before resting on his side. His left leg pinned Shion's thighs to the cot, and his wounded arm stretched across Shion's chest. His head rested on the pillow, so close that his breath brushed against Shion's ear and sent goosebumps across his skin.
Shion's spine went ramrod straight. He couldn't turn his head without bumping his forehead against Nezumi's. If he tried to move, he knew he wouldn't be able to wriggle from beneath Nezumi's body.
"You're planning on keeping me here the whole night?" Shion mumbled.
"That would be the best way to ensure you can't poison me."
Shion huffed out a laugh. "And when you fall asleep? I'll just escape then."
"If you think you can manage it, then just try." Nezumi's voice lowered until Shion couldn't barely hear it. "I think we're both aware I'm far stronger than you."
Shion's body burned, and he stared at the branches interlocking above his head to keep from focusing on how close their bodies were pressed against one another. The scents of fresh lavender and jasmine petals melted around them, filling the air with a sweet, gentle aroma.
Nezumi's breath drifted over Shion's neck as he nuzzled into the pillow and murmured, "It's warm."
Shion's chest tightened. He relaxed into the heat radiating from the cot beneath him, willing his magic into it enough to keep both him and Nezumi comfortable for the remainder of the evening.
Eventually Nezumi's breathing evened out, and Shion realized he'd dropped off into a peaceful slumber. Through his body, pressed against Shion's, he could feel the thumping of Nezumi's heart that assured Shion he was alive. He'd come to Shion in his time of need—guided by some unseen force—and Shion had rescued him.
Shion closed his eyes, exhaled, and allowed himself to fall into peaceful darkness.
⁂
Shion woke the next morning, the blanket draped over him. The cot beneath him radiated with the remnants of warmth, the gentle scent of lavender drifting around him and willing him to slip back into the shadows.
He was alone.
Shion eased himself into a sitting position. He clutched the blanket close, the remnants of jasmine and leather clinging to the fabric.
Nezumi was gone.
His cloak and his boots were gone, too. There was no sign he'd ever been there at all aside from a set of bootprints stamped on the floorboards.
To Be Continued...
