They stood on the damp grass for a long moment after the Duchess disappeared. The evening chill was sinking into Orion’s wet clothes, making him shiver. The warm memory of the waterfall seemed very far away.
Then Abel’s hand found his again. The big, calloused fingers curled around Orion’s smaller ones, holding tight. It had become their habit in less than a day—the anchor point in this strange, stormy sea.
Wordlessly, they walked towards the side entrance used by servants. They didn’t go up the grand terrace stairs. They took the narrower, colder stone steps that led into the lower corridors of the keep.
The whispers followed them inside.
Two maids carrying linens flattened themselves against a wall as they passed, eyes wide. A footman polishing a suit of armor paused, his rag still, his gaze tracking the trail of water droplets they left on the flagstones. The murmurs were like rustling leaves.
"...dripping all over the floors..."
"...he can’t even keep himself decent, let alone the Master..."
"...what must Her Grace think..."
Orion kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, his jaw tight. He focused on the feel of Abel’s hand, the solid, warm reality of it. He led them through the maze of back hallways, up a narrow servants’ staircase, and finally to the relative sanctuary of their wing.
When the door to their chamber closed behind them, the silence felt heavy. It was the silence of a reprimand still hanging in the air.
Orion let go of Abel’s hand and walked to the fireplace. A low fire was burning. He stood before it, letting the heat seep into his chilled front while his back remained cold and damp. He just stared at the flames.
Abel sighed, a big, gusty sound. He came to stand beside Orion, shoulder to shoulder. He was quiet for a minute, watching the fire too.
"It was closed," Abel said finally, his voice soft.
Orion glanced at him. "What was?"
"The door," Abel said, pointing vaguely back the way they’d come. "Back there. With Mother. It felt... closed. Like there was no air."
Orion understood. It was the feeling of being trapped, judged, with no escape route. "Yes," he agreed quietly.
Abel shifted his weight. "If she had scolded a little more... I was about to run away with you."
That pulled Orion’s full attention. He turned to look at Abel’s profile, lit by the firelight. "Run away? Where?"
Abel shrugged, his bare shoulders rolling. "Don’t know. The woods. Further. To where the waterfall comes from. Somewhere she wouldn’t be able to catch us." He looked at Orion, his expression serious. "They need to find us first to scold us."
The logic was so simple, so childishly brilliant, that a weak laugh escaped Orion. It was half a sob. "That’s true," he said, wiping a bit of moisture from his eye that wasn’t from the pond. "But they would find us, Abel. This is their land. For miles and miles." Get faster updates on NovelPing.
Abel’s shoulders slumped a little. "Oh." He thought about it. "Could we hide in the cave behind the waterfall?"
"Maybe for a night," Orion said, playing along with the fantasy. It was easier than facing the reality of the coming party. "But we’d get hungry. And cold."
"We could take blankets," Abel suggested, perking up. "And cookies from the kitchen. Lots of them."
"We’d need a horse to carry it all," Orion said, a real smile touching his lips now.
"Angel would help," Abel stated confidently. Then his face fell again as reality reasserted itself. "But Mother would be angry. And you said there’s a party."
The dread returned, cold in Orion’s stomach. "Yes. Tonight."
Abel frowned. "Why a party? We didn’t have a party yesterday."
"Yesterday was the wedding," Orion explained, turning back to the fire to warm his hands. "The ceremony. That’s... the official part. The promise. Today’s party is for people to come and... celebrate."
"Celebrate what?" Abel asked, moving to sit on the rug by the hearth. He pulled his knees up to his chest.
Orion sat down beside him, the stone floor hard through his wet trousers. "Our marriage."
Abel’s golden eyes searched his face. "They are coming to celebrate ’our forever’?"
The phrasing, so innocent and so profound, hit Orion like a physical blow. His breath hiccupped in his chest. For a moment, he couldn’t speak. He just looked at this man, his husband, who saw a lifetime commitment as a ’forever’ to be celebrated, while everyone else in that hall tonight would see it as a political transaction, a tragedy, or a joke.
He managed a nod, his throat tight. "Yes," he whispered. "That’s what they’ll say they’re celebrating."
Abel absorbed this. He didn’t look happy about it. He looked wary. "Will there be lots of people talking? Loud noises? Will they... look at me like the servants did?"
"Probably," Orion admitted, not wanting to lie. "But we’ll be together. We’ll get through it."
Abel was silent for a long time. Then he said, "I don’t want to go."
"Neither do I," Orion said honestly. "But we have to."
"Why?"
"Because your mother said so. And because... sometimes in life, we have to do things we don’t want to do. To keep the peace."
"I don’t like peace if it means you get sad," Abel muttered, picking at a thread on the rug.
Orion didn’t know what to say to that. He just reached out and put his hand over Abel’s, stilling his fidgeting. "Come on. We should get cleaned up. We’re making a puddle."
The bathing chamber attached to their room was spacious, with a large copper tub. Servants had already filled it with steaming water. Towels and soaps were laid out.
Abel went in first, shedding his damp trousers without a second thought and climbing into the tub with a contented sigh. He sank down until the water lapped at his chin. "Warm," he announced happily. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
Orion busied himself laying out fresh clothes for both of them from the wardrobe—choosing sturdy, formal wear for himself, not Elian’s silks, and helping select something for Abel that wouldn’t be too complicated. He could feel the ghost of the wet undershirt clinging to him, a reminder of his own unfinished business.
He brought a stool over and sat beside the tub. He took a washcloth and the soap. "Here. Scrub your arms."
Abel took the cloth but quickly got distracted, making the bar of soap skim across the water’s surface like a little boat. He hummed a tuneless melody as he played.
Orion watched him, this giant of a man making soap boats in his bath. The tension from the confrontation with the Duchess began, slowly, to ease from his shoulders.
After a while, Abel stopped humming. He looked at Orion, his expression thoughtful. "I like you," he said, the declaration simple and direct.
Orion raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on his lips. "Oh? Why’s that?"
Abel considered it seriously. "Because when I don’t understand something... you explain it. You don’t get mad. You don’t call me stupid." He said it as if listing rare and wonderful qualities.
A lump formed in Orion’s throat. "Everyone doesn’t understand some things, Abel. That’s normal."
"Like you," Abel said, nodding sagely.
"Like me what?"
"Like you don’t understand you need to take off your shirt to bathe."
He said it with such earnest, logical confusion that it broke the last of the tension holding Orion together. A laugh burst out of him—a real, full-bodied sound that echoed off the tiled walls. It was the laugh from the waterfall, freed again.
He laughed until his sides ached, until tears pricked his eyes. He laughed at the absurdity of it all—of this beautiful, confusing man, of the dripping undershirt, of the disapproving Duchess, of the terrifying party to come, of the fact that in this entire cold fortress, the only person who made any sense was the one everyone else thought made no sense at all.
Abel watched him laugh, a slow, delighted smile spreading across his own face. He didn’t ask what was funny. He just liked the sound. He liked seeing Orion’s serious face break into light.
When Orion’s laughter finally subsided into hiccups and shaky breaths, he wiped his eyes. He looked at Abel, who was still smiling at him, soap boat forgotten.
"You’re right," Orion said, his voice warm with the remnants of his laugh. "I don’t understand that at all. It’s very silly of me."
Abel’s smile widened into a grin. He seemed immensely pleased to have been the cause of the laughter. "It’s okay," he said generously. "You can learn."
Still chuckling softly, Orion picked up the abandoned washcloth. "Alright, student. Lesson one. Wash behind your ears. The Duke and Duchess of wherever will be checking at the party."
Abel obediently scrubbed his ears, his earlier worries about the party momentarily forgotten in the warm, soapy water and the sound of his husband’s laughter still hanging in the steamy air.