10. Chapter Ten: Theo

"Who is this hopiar?" Theo growls as he lifts the head by the hair, glaring at the bludgeoned face. The night wind wicks bloodied curls across a concave forehead, the light locks the only remaining distinguishing feature. Theo's glowing eyes snap to Octavian.

Octavian bows his head. "Sevell," he began, before gesturing. Another three Kiterans rush forward, freezing only when Theo bares his teeth. Octavian continues when the Kiterans – members of the Wolf's Teeth, Theo now realizes – each raise circular objects. No. Not circular objects.

Heads. Much like the one dangling from Theo's own grasp.

"Siacchian spies," Octavian says before Theo can speak. "They sent this one ahead," he nods to the dead man's head in Theo's grip, "and then tried to retreat back through the tunnels. We found them thanks to our prisoner's maps."

Beyond them, Kiterans rush from their tents, weapons raised. Upon sighting their leader, naked and standing on a headless corpse, most quickly return to their slumber.

Theo snaps his teeth, spitting out gristle. "How did they learn of Evland Childes?"

At this, Octavian's face tightens, "I do not know."

"Why did you leave your post?"

Octavian looks down. "We were in pursuit. We saw these men beyond the walls of the camp."

At Theo's feet, an unconscious Evland Childes moans, rolling onto his side. There is a splash of scarlet across his cheek.

Terror slices through Theo's rage, though it only serves to make his anger burn hotter. "Is he injured?" Somehow, his voice emerges steadily.

Octavian's eyes flutter to their prisoner at their feet. His gaze shutters. "I do not know."

"Well, what do you know?"

"I know that us standing here, chatting about a potential enemy invasion before our people, will not instill our soldiers with the morale you were hoping to arouse."

A snarl rips from Theo, but he quickly stifles it. There is a reason I picked this man for my second, and it was not just for his tongue.

"Fine. To my tent." To any lingering soldiers, Theo growls, "A training exercise. Thought we might release a couple captured Siacchians for a midnight hunt. Return to your sleep." His gaze lands on the Wolf's Teeth. They wear their usual bone masks, standing like ghosts in the night. "You as well."

The half a second of hesitation that stretches as the remaining Kiterans rise up on their toes in an attempt to verify this by examining the heads – and to attempt to identify the unconscious body at Theo's feet – is enraging. But before Theo can fling threats to send them fleeing, Evland Childes rolls onto his back, eyes fluttering open, his long black lashes like soot on his cheeks, and his eyes clear crystalline. Dimly, he is aware of his soldiers departing.

"Theodori?" Evland Childes murmurs, and Theo's anger vanishes. He drops the head of the monster who tried to injure what is his, and falls to a crouch. Gently, he takes Evland Childes' cheeks, turning his head from left to right. Theo's fingers leave streaks of blood across pale cheeks, and his stomach twists.

"He isn't concussed," Theo hears himself say distantly. "But he might be bleeding. Bring me a wash basin and some rags. I will need to assess him."

"You will need to assess him?" Octavian splutters.

"I thought you said you didn't want to discuss this here." Theo picks up Evland Childes as gently as he can, slinging one of the man's slender arms over his shoulder.

Octavian trails behind Theo, hissing protests as Theo carries his prisoner to his tent at the head of the camp. "Surely you have more important things to do, Theodori," Octavian presses as Theo sweeps inside.

Theo whirls, teeth bared. "You're absolutely right, Octavian. Yet, for some reason, I find myself doing your job because you are unable to do so. First, you want me to intimidate the man. Now, you are unable to provide him with the most basic of defenses?"

Octavian shifts his weight. "I actually wished to speak to you of this, Theodori –"

Theo's nostrils flare. "Speak to me of what?"

"It might be best to turn to other sources of information. We took Evland Childes because we didn't know anyone better, but his parents are on the Council. If we could extract a ransom sum, we'd be better for it, and safer, so these suicide attacks –"

Rage turns Theo's vision snow-white. "You suspected he might be attacked? Did you tell someone of him?" The world melts around Theo as his wolf overtakes him, and he isn't sure how much time passes before he comes back to himself, hands balled into fists at Octavian's collar, forearm pressed against his second's throat.

Octavian's strangled breaths brush Theo's fingers. "N-no – I didn't – Theodori, please – you're – you –" His cheeks turn from pale to purple as he claws at Theo's grasp.

Theo forces himself to release the man, shocked by the rage burning in his chest. Normally, his wolf is close to him, prepared to leap when his emotions turn. But nothing has ever set it off like that before. It is only when his eyes land on Evland Childes, who has fallen back into unconsciousness, that the knot of tension in his chest eases.

No.

Simple lust can do strange things to a person, though Theo has never been so swayed by a pretty person to such an extent. He cannot allow himself to forge such a relationship, not with a Siacchian, and certainly not with his enemy. Such a weakness would be detrimental.

And if someone were to suspect Theo might be falling prey to such feelings…

Theo's eyes dart to Octavian. The man presses a hand against his throat, hunched over, panting and heaving. Theo has never pushed him so far before – never done so much damage in a fit of anger. Beyond his shock and fear, slimy guilt twists in his stomach.

"What is going on with you?" Octavian rasps. "You've been on edge ever since the siege began – ever since we captured the Siacchian."

Theo spins into a pace to hide the guilty lilt of his brows. "There's so much at stake here, Octavian. I need – we need – to win this battle to prove ourselves. If we can take Cesscounthe, we'll have them. Those damned Elders will finally believe in us. But now…"

Theo's eyes drift to his prisoner's face. "We need him to win this."

"We don't need him," Octavian insists. "We can find another Siacchian."

"Octavian." Theo's voice is cold. "That map… this man could be the key to unlocking the secrets of Cesscounthe. After we have conquered their rulers –"

"But Theodori – we don't have to conquer them by force," Octavian says, rising to his full height, hand still cradling his reddened throat. "We can find weak points inside. Surely not every single person of Cesscounthe is satisfied with their city – surely some are looking for an opportunity to rise up, to rule. What if we –"

Theo waves his hand. "We've spoken on this, Octavian. I said no. The Elders respect battle and victory, not treachery."

"Not treachery – strategy."

Theo forces his gaze to the tent walls. Beyond the canvas, the dim silhouette of the night watch paces past his tent. The soldier pauses, looking toward Cesscounthe, but he is likely only spotting the Siacchian hopiar fleeing their city, for a moment later, his shoulders ease. All the same, Theo's nostrils flare as he scents the wind, automatically searching for the next possible ambush. "Tell me why you thought he would be attacked. Your spies told me Siacchians are pacifists, and he was only just captured. How can the Siacchians have learned of him?" A low winding growl trails from his throat. "Do our people know about this?"

Octavian closes his eyes, tucking his hands behind his back. "I – believe me, Theodori, I have not spoken a word of his capture to anyone. But there is Vittoria, and those of the Wolf's Teeth who grabbed him. Any could have talked, and if word got out…." He hangs his head. "Most Siacchians are pacifists, but they use their hopiar for their dirty work. And they must have decided it easier to kill someone than to save them. At least that means the information in his head is probably valuable."

"You seem to know much for having done so little." Theo's hands curl into fists. He barely feels the bite of his claws digging into his palms or the warm blood dripping to the dirt floor.

"I have suspicions, Theodori. Nothing concrete. And I had been under the impression that this man was replaceable."

Theo's cheek twitches.

Octavian continues, "But now I see you must have learned something valuable from him during your… interrogation sessions. I assume you have some sort of tactic here to win his trust."

"The information in his head is, as you've said, very valuable."

"Of course." Octavian bows his head.

Of course.

That's what Theo's doing – that's why he's been doing all of this. He's just playing a role. Just as Octavian has tried – and failed – to win the Siacchian's trust, Theo is now attempting to do the same.

Theo's eyes flicker to the man in question. At the sight of Evland Childes' too stiff lids and too pursed lips, Theo allows himself the smallest of smiles. The bastard's awake.

He's alright.

"Are you planning on sharing that information with me?" Octavian says, voice still strained. He pokes at his bruised throat, looking pitiful.

"If you're trying to guilt it out of me, stop." Theo approaches his second. His heart pinches when the man takes a step back.

Ah, yes.That's right. He let Octavian get complacent. He let Octavian think himself Theo's friend – a disservice to them both.

"I will share the information with you when necessary. It does not affect our current plan of action," Theo says. He rests a gentle hand on Octavian's shoulder. "Next time you have even the slightest fear of attack, you will warn me. Understood?"

Octavian nods.

"Good. Now fetch me those rags and warmed water – have Vittoria make him a poultice as well. I'll need to check how bruised our prisoner has become. We can't have his brains all scrambled up, now can we?"

Octavian looks like he wishes to protest, but then bows his head. "Understood, Sevell Wolf-Born," he says, and creeps from the tent with hunched shoulders.

Theo watches him go, sighing. It's for the best, he reminds himself. Closeness is weakness. This distance will strengthen us both.

He ignores the tiny voice that whispers hypocrite as he returns to Evland Childes' side, brushing a stray strand of midnight behind the man's ear. "Open your eyes," he commands. "I need to assess your injuries."

Evland Childes tenses, and then slowly does as ordered. His eyes dilate against the darkness of the tent. His mouth parts, little pants escaping reddened lips. "I'm alive," he whispers. His eyes trace the tent ceiling, throat bobbing as he swallows nervously. His gaze drifts to Theo, and his cheeks color. "And you're naked."

Theo hands him a wineskin which Evland Childes drains in a gulp. Theo's eyes climb over his body as he does so, searching for visible wounds. Beyond the dried blood at his temple and a splotch of red at his thumb, he looks to be uninjured. A sigh escapes Theo.

"You are fine," Theo says, as if reassuring himself. "You could have been killed though."

Evland Childes' gaze rolls over to him, not even bothering to move his head. His pulse flutters against the thin skin of his neck. His hand gradually rises, pressing against the blood on his temple. "Is this… mine?"

Theo scents the air to confirm his observations. "No."

Evland Childes' cheeks go green, and he claps a hand over his mouth. "You – you killed it. It is dead, right? Or was that just some sort of a twisted test? Is this the torture Octavian was talking about?"

Torture?

The word brings a much different image to mind than what Evland Childes probably intended. An image of bound wrists and shaking thighs, and Evland Childes' plump lips shaping the word please. Theo shakes it away.

"The hopiar is dead, yes." The truth slips out before he has the chance to rein it in. Somehow, it's so difficult to lie to this man, especially when gazing into his impossibly blue eyes, but Theo tries all the same. "It seems that your own people have learned of your capture. We're lucky that I got there in time."

Evland Childes' eyes go huge, and before Theo can stop to reign in the half truth, he finds himself continuing, "I have made sure that – that none – only a few – of my people have learned of your capture," Theo manages, the words difficult to force from his tongue. "Some Siacchian must have noticed your absence. They likely have determined the truth and sent assassins here to keep you silent."

"That's impossible," Evland Childes says. "My mother would never –" He silences himself by clapping a hand over his mouth.

Theo lets the silence stretch, waiting for the man to say more. When Evland Childes only stares at him, Theo says, "You will come to no harm when you are with me." Just to make him trust me.

Evland Childes narrows his eyes, but this close, Theo can make out the faint spark of relief glowing there.

Evland says, "So for the next hour I'll be safe while you patch me up, but then what? You're just going to send me out to be eaten by those damned impyassi again."

"Impyassi?" The word is clunky on his tongue.

"The monster. I've never seen one so large before."

Theo dips his head in understanding. "You will be safe from these monsters – the impyassi – as long as you are with me, you are correct. Which is why you will be staying by my side, in my tent."

Evland Childes gapes at him. "What?"

The idea pools in Theo's mind just as quickly as the words leave his tongue. "I cannot have you endangered again, not with the knowledge you keep. If either your people or mine have learn of your existence, then you will be under attack –"

"Under attack by both?"

"Siacchians will keep you silent. There has been a mass exodus of your… impyassi from the outer rim of Cesscounthe. From the areas not shielded by the wall. We let them pass our barricade, but they will not be pleased to learn you are leaking secrets that could harm the family they've left behind in their haste to escape. That, and Kiterans will slit your throat for their blood feud."

Evland Childes' sour fear smokes the tent. "Blood feud?" he squeaks. "Exodus?"

"The pact a Kiterans swears upon the blood of their fallen brethren. We have lost several to your hopiar – impyassi, as you have called them, and my people seek vengeance."

"My people have – have killed yours? That's not – that's not possible. All but the Aiutani have sworn a nonviolence pact –" He abruptly stops, blinking. Then, in a low voice clearly meant for his own ears, he says, "They"re really doing it."

Now, here is why I'm doing this. Information clearly ripe for the reaping, Theo presses, "Doing what?"

"I…" Evland Childes shakes his head. "My mother always said that should war come, we would uphold our pact of nonviolence by using the Aiutani – the lower caste – to fight for us. We will sully the hands of our beastly folk…"

Theo watches the horror unfold on Evland Childes' face, disgusted. What a backwards society, to treat their beastkind as second class citizens.

Evland Childes shakes his head. When he gazes up at Theo, his eyes have shuttered. "This is the only way to keep myself alive? To stay here? With you?"

Evland Childes speaks the words as if reciting his death sentence, and Theo chuckles. "Without me, you might have lost your life tonight. I will keep you safe, Siacchian. There's no need to look so grim about it."

"That's right," Evland Childes says distantly. "You did save me. You were the monster at my back. Without you, I would have just had my charcoal sharpener."

"Your what?" Theo raises a brow. "You had a weapon?"

"Not a weapon – a tool," Evland Childes protests. "But that's entirely besides the point. You – you did save me." He ducks his head, eyes dropping to the floor. A warm red blush spills across his cheeks. "Thank you."

Theo blinks and his heart does a strange skip. Oddly, the feeling reminds him of the first time he had been touched lovingly. The first time someone had pressed a hand against his cheek and called his name, the name that only his family had used. He shakes his head. Betrayal came soon after butterflies, inevitably. Just like it will now.

Focus.

"You're a valuable asset," Theo says, turning away. "I had no choice."

"You could have let Octavian handle it." There is something odd about Evland Childes' voice when he says this, a strange tenseness that Theo can't place.

Theo snorts. "That man cannot handle anything when you're concerned."

His eyes finally alight upon his bedroll, and he is shocked to feel his lips part in a yawn. That's right – he had forgotten how late it is. Tomorrow, he will have to interrogate this man properly. He will have to learn the secrets of this damned walled city, and soon after conquer it. If he took too much time… the Elders did not look kindly upon slowness, especially when waging a war against pacifists, no matter how brilliant the pacifists are said to be.

But first, he needs to deal with his prisoner. Theo turns to the man in question, who has slumped into a ball, eyes still wide. "Sleep," Theo orders. "Octavian will return shortly, and I will tend to your wounds, but it will take awhile to warm the water and fetch the poultice. Best that you rest while you can."

"Rest?" Evland Childes repeats the word as if he's never heard it before. He closes his eyes, entire face scrunching with the motion, then goes still as a mouse. He slowly forces his body to relax. It doesn't take long before his breaths go steady with sleep.

Somewhere, deep inside him, beneath the rasping whisper of his beast, Theo knows he is lying to himself. He knows that Evland Childes means more to him than any person possibly should.

But Theo has never much cared about any inner voices beyond the one calling for violence and vengeance.

He still finds himself watching the rise and fall of Evland Childes' chest, marveling.

Humans are ridiculously fragile; had he been a minute later – had he not already been out, pacing his camp and pondering what to do with his prisoner – he might not have made it in time. And then he would have come across gore and death and Evland Childes' cooling body.

The image wrings Theo's heart like a rag, dragging bile to his tongue. He grits his teeth.

He isn't sure how long he sits there, watching his prisoner sleep when Evland Childes suddenly starts awake, eyes springing open. His lips part with little pants. His eyes race around the tent, before finally alighting on Theo.

"You're still here," he whispers and then scowls. He draws his knees to his chest, curling even tighter in on himself. "I – I can't sleep now," he murmurs after a long silence. "Every time I close my eyes, I see that beast again. I see my life ending on its fangs." His shoulders shake.

The words I will keep you safe from everything weigh on Theo's tongue – but it seems he truly cannot lie to this man, try as he might.

"If you will not sleep," Theo says. "Then you might as well show me how you were planning on finishing this match." He gestures to the Ravage board, still set from their game earlier that day.

The furrow between Evland Childes' eyebrows eases as he stares at the unfinished match, as if gratefully soaking in the red and cream squares.

"Will you need a light?" Theo asks as he pulls out a chair for his prisoner. He learned humans see poorly in the dark, and his tent is black as aged blood. Evland Childes shakes his head, clambering to his feet like a child, shivering, before sinking into the seat. Oddly disturbed by the sight of goosebumps creeping down the man's pale skin, Theo drapes his travel-worn blanket over the man's shoulders before he realizes what he's doing.

"No light needed," Evland Childes says, clutching the blanket and leaning forward to take in the board. His pupils dilate as he does so, and Theo forces himself to stop observing his prisoner and study the board as well.

They lapse into a comfortable silence as Evland Childes makes his next move. The sound of the metal pieces clicking against the steel board are the only noises that dare to break the quiet.

That's how Octavian finds them probably half an hour later, entering the tent with a sweaty brow, Vittoria's poultice, a heavy basin, and a scowl. He sloshes steaming water as he places a basin large enough to submerge a small child at Theo's feet. "The prisoner seems in good health," he growls, eyes flickering to Evland Childes, who is so absorbed in the match he hasn't even looked up.

It's difficult to make out in the darkness, but as he turns, the blooming bruises on Octavian's throat catch the light. Theo looks away. They will heal by daylight. "You brought the rags?"

Octavian drops a handful of threadbare patches of fabric, stained various colors that only serve to look more disgusting upon closer examination. His shoulders rise to his ears as he looks back and forth between Theo and Evland Childes.

Theo needs to address this now. "Clean yourself up," he says gruffly to Evland Childes. To Octavian, he orders, "Come with me." Theo seizes the man by the elbow and pulls him into the night.

Octavian's scowl only darkens as they exit the tent. "Are you serious?" he growls as soon as they leave, voice cast low enough only hopiar ears would be able to hear. "You're playing Ravage with him again? What are you doing, Theodori?"

Panic darts through Theo, but just as quickly as it spikes his pulse, he squashes it. "I'm doing what you failed to do: I'm earning his trust. If I am the only person who can keep him safe here – the only person who treats him with kindness – he will have no choice but to open up to me."

Octavian's jaw works. He spins away, placing his hands on his hips. Finally, he says in a low voice, "How strangely you're acting… it's more than just the stress of the siege, isn't it?" When Theo doesn't reply, Octavian murmurs, "Do you think I can't see the way you're looking at him?"

Theo flattens all emotions from his face as responses whirl through his mind. Before he can reply, Octavian says, "You could have anyone, Theodori. You have me to satisfy any urges. These Siacchians – they're emotionless, unfeeling creatures. They could never want like we do. They would never satisfy you – even if they weren't our prisoner."

Theo crosses his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes.

Octavian continues, "I'm not trying to – to heckle you, Theodori. I'm not your mate, I'm your second. And I'm telling you now: you need to clear your mind. The way you've acted since we've captured this man…." He shakes his head.

"Are you done?"

Octavian flushes but doesn't look away. "You know we don't have long. The Elders will learn of this move… somehow." He adds the last word hastily when Theo's lips curl to reveal growing teeth. "They will want to see results."

"And they will get them," Theo says, voice cold. "My attraction to this man will not get in the way of our mission, Octavian."

Octavian presses a hand to his bruised throat.

Theo says, "You said the prisoner's intel was good?"

"What?"

"Before – when your Wolf's Teeth found the fleeing Siacchian humans who attacked our camp – you said Evland Childes' maps were thorough?"

Octavian slowly nods.

"You're right; we're running out of time. We need to add more teeth to this siege. Bring me heads – one for each day we've been here. We'll add them to our wall."

A light sparks in Octavian's eyes. "Understood." Before he turns to leave, he adds, quietly, "I trust you, Theodori."

"Good."

"You will tell me if you learn anything from him when it becomes relevant to me?"

"Yes."

Octavian looks over Theo's shoulder, to the entrance to the tent. "I will keep a closer watch on him from here on out –"

"There's no need. He will be staying with me."

Octavian presses his lips together. "Theodori –"

"You realize the attraction is not one sided."

At this, Octavian pauses. He slides his hands into his robes, his next word a single clouded exhale against the moonless night. "Continue."

"Give me time. I told you: I will earn his trust – and his lust. I can use this. We can use this."

"And the Ravage?"

Theo manages a grin. "Come now, Octavian. You just told me you weren't going to act as my mate. Am I detecting a hint of jealousy in your voice?"

Octavian huffs and turns. "Jealousy." He scoffs. "Me?"

"Octavian," Theo calls as his second retreats into the night. "I need information on those hopiar. If they were Siacchian, how they got into the camp – and how they learned of Evland Childes – we need to know if there is a leak in this camp passing information to the Siacchians"

Octavian pauses. "I'll speak to my people."

"Good." Theo's hands clench at the reminder of Evland Childes' would-be attacker's head dangling from his fingers. He runs his tongue over his teeth, though his mouth has long since been cleaned of blood. "That cannot happen again."

Octavian nods. "I will work on it." He adds with a glance tossed over his shoulder, "Goodnight."

Theo looks up at the blinking stars above them and the velvet sky. A cool breeze brushes across his semi-bare shoulders, now wrapped in an old tunic, and a chill sweeps across him. Despite the goosebumps, Theo allows himself a small smile; things have been smoothed over with his second. Everything goes better when Octavian isn't angry at him.

Theo turns and returns to the warm heat of his tent.

Inside, Evland Childes sits hunched, facing away from the Ravage board. "I didn't look at the board while you were gone," he says as Theo enters. "But I have moved the next piece."

He doesn't ask about the conversation he couldn't hear. He doesn't press to learn about the attack or why it happened. Evland Childes only wants to keep playing.

The relief Theo feels to return to the world of Ravage, a place where you have the power to see each attack coming and can defend accordingly, is so strong it almost hurts. It reminds him why he loves this game so much – how much of a solace it is for him to retreat to, to hide from memories of scorched earth and burned flesh. He eases into his cushion, spreading his legs so he can brace his elbow on his knee and his chin on his palm.

They both return their attention to the game, ignoring the occasional yawn from either man. Neither of them has any interest in stopping. They could have played for a matter of minutes or hours before Evland Childes breaks the silence with a snort.

"What?" Theo looks up from his recent move.

Evland Childes shakes his head. "It's nothing – just… well." He covers his face with one hand. "It's Cesse rules and customs influencing my perception of your play."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know if I can talk about this right now," Evland Childes groans through his fingers. He runs his hand through his curls, looking everywhere by Theo's questioning gaze.

"If you don't tell me, I'll have to find out through our other prisoners."

"You have other prisoners?" Evland Childes gapes at Theo.

"Jealous?"

"You do not have other prisoners!"

"Maybe that can be what your next question is."

"Since I'm guaranteed to win again, I might consider that."

Theo allows the chuckle to bubble past his lips. "Confident. I like that."

Confidence that is, apparently, overblown. It takes another two dozen moves, but Theo advances his pieces with calm, even precision, pinning Evland Childes' king in an inescapable maneuver that leaves his opponent red-faced and sweating.

The man in question glares at the board as he tips his king in defeat. "Mate," he mutters, as if hoping Theo wouldn't hear.

Genuine laughter bursts free as Theo takes in Evland Childes' mussed hair and pursed lips. "You look like a child."

"Just ask your Thought-damned question."

"Are you always like this when you lose a match?"

"Is that the answer you want to hear?"

Theo waves his hand. "No, I don't want my question to be anything foolish – like asking my opponent what their name is." Evland Childes glares. "Tell me what these Cesse rules and customs are. The ones that had you blushing all pretty when I moved my assassin opposite your soldier."

"That's… are you sure you don't want to ask a question that's more relevant to – I don't know – the invasion you've launched against my country?"

"Stop avoiding. Answer."

Evland Childes winds one curl around his finger and releases it. The lock springs away, shaped in a perfect spiral. "Surely you know the origin of Cesse – how it was a game of… dominance." He meets Theo's eyes as he speaks, the confidence surprising Theo. "Each move is a different signal to your opponent. A soldier placed to D17 could mean a number of things depending on the pieces placed in its periphery. If, for example, you were to make a move like that here…." He adjusts the pieces. "You would be stating you wish to kiss me." Blue eyes flicker to meet Theo's gaze.

Theo goes still. It takes all his will power not to look down at Evland's lips, which are surely full, red, and damp from where his tongue flicked out to wet them moments before. Instead, Theo forces himself to laugh, a noise which somehow doesn't even sound strained. He says, "I didn't realize Cesse was so juvenile in the West."

Evland's nostrils flare. "And this move…" He moves the pieces quickly, reassembling what Theo recognizes to be the play on the board where Evland briefly lost his composure. "Means you wish to fuck me like a dog."

Theo's vision hazes as the image takes him: Evland splayed out before him, pale skin pinked from the cold, limbs long and slender, skin soft and warm. Theo groaning as he pumps his cock before sliding it between the plump flesh of Evland's –

Theo shakes himself. "Are these messages implied in every move?"

"It's very complicated." Evland rearranges the board again. "See, here? Had you moved the piece like this, it would mean you are threatening to choke me on your cock. Had I replied like this, it would have meant I would be suggesting we place ourselves so we can both pleasure each other simultaneously."

The images fly through Theo's mind, so blindingly fast he barely has time to register – and enjoy – them. Spoken in Evland's quick and businesslike tone, they are oddly not stripped of pleasure, but only added, like Evland has done this before and he plans on doing it again. Like he thinks he is the dominant one here. Like he is a challenge.

"And the move you made?" Theo easily recalls the way Evland responded and picks up the red Queen, turning her between his thumb and forefinger. He places the piece. "What does that mean?"

Evland blinks, gaze shuttering. "That's – that's a second question." He shuffles the pieces on the board again, setting them up for the next game.

"You are greedy with your answers."

"I think I provided you a fair enough reply."

Theo leans back in his cushion, spreading his legs wide – as if that could alleviate the ache pulsing from his groin. He releases a slow breath, careful to keep himself from returning to the images Evland planted in his mind. Did the Siacchian do this on purpose? To throw him off his game?

"You realize," he says, mostly to buy himself the time needed to regain his concentration. "That Ravage games usually end in the same manner."

Evland Childes stills. His lips press together, and he takes a moment too long to respond with an overly casual, "Is that so?"

"Don't worry." Theo watches his prisoner from lowered lashes. "I've made an exception for you." This time around.

As they begin the next match, Theo watches each move Evland makes, wondering at possible meanings. The question must be clear in his eyes, for sometimes Evland meets his gaze as he places his pieces, the challenge clear, though the substance not. Theo's wolf rises as Evland does so, eager to meet the dare, and Theo feels himself smiling as they play, an expression caught between joy and a baring of teeth.

However, if Evland's strategy was distraction, it works far too well. The next game concludes shortly, Theo unable to dive into the world of Ravage, his concentration lost with Evland's every reply. The examples Evland used to explain Cesse prior did not come up in this game, though Theo had watched carefully for them.

As Theo tips his king, a low, "Mate," escaping his lips, Evland Childes leans forward, the words jumping from him: "Tell me of those other prisoners."

"That's not a question."

Evland scowls. "You know what I mean."

"And I also abide by the rules you yourself set," Theo replies, grin growing wider.

"You didn't strike me as the type."

"You're right – but you're also special. That's why I make exceptions for you, Evland Childes."

Evland runs a hand through his hair and sighs, closing his eyes as if to summon the best words to shape into a question. He finally says, "Who are the other prisoners the Kiterans are holding in this camp?"

Theo waits until the man has opened his eyes before he replies. "There is no one else," he says. "Just you."

Evland blinks, tension draining from his shoulders as he slumps. He suddenly looks exhausted sitting there, the dark bags under his eyes standing out in stark relief. "Just me," he repeats, and the words sound almost intimate to Theo's ears.

Theo nods, still holding the man's gaze with his own. "Only you."

They sit like that, eyes cradling each other, for an unknowable amount of time, until Theo realizes Evland is blinking with exhaustion. Theo rises, unrolling his bedroll. "Come," he says. "We need sleep."

"I can make do here." Evland gestures to the dirt floor.

"Don't be ridiculous." Theo splays out the soft furs and thick leathers. "It's wide enough for two." He manages to bite back the words it's actually wide enough for three because Evland is staring at him with a slack jaw.

Theo shrugs and makes his bed swiftly, lying on his back so he can stare at the tent's ceiling, eyes tracing the canvas and wood poles. Across from him, Evland tries to make himself comfortable in the dirt, curling on the ground like an animal, limbs stiff as boards.

Theo watches the other man's chest rise and fall, vision sharp enough to make out that Evland's eyes are still open. He stills with surprise when Evland meets his gaze.

"Aren't you afraid I will run?" Evland asks, sitting up and rubbing at his back.

Theo bares his teeth. "You saw what happened to the man who attacked you. Would you like to see what I would do to someone who pushes my patience even further?"

Evland shudders, and Theo fights an odd twist of guilt. The other man lies down again, this time on his back, his arms tucked close. He shivers.

After a few ridiculous minutes of this, Theo says, "You're being silly. I'm not going to do anything to you beyond sleep and keep you safe from any potential attackers. But I can hardly keep you safe from hypothermia."

When Evland Childes doesn't reply, Theo adds, "You realize our children sleep like this, pressed together, to keep warm? It doesn't have to be… whatever it is that you're thinking."

Finally, teeth chattering, Evland Childes says, "I wouldn't get hypothermia in these temperatures."

"Evland."

Evland freezes at the sound of his name and then shakes himself.

Theo realizes he shouldn't have addressed his prisoner like this – so informally – but it felt so right. Before he can add the final Childes, he stops himself.

It's better this way. This way, he will trust me more.

Evland Childes rubs his hands together as he crawls on his hands and knees, burrowing into Theo's bedroll. He shivers as he wraps himself in the furs. Carefully, he curls, pale limbs almost flower-like as he rearranges himself. With at least an arm's length of space between them, Evland releases a contented sigh. His eyes flutter, shoulders finally relaxing from where they have been held around his ears.

"I can't trust you," he whispers, almost to himself as he tucks his arm beneath his head. He looks so delicate, his hand curled beneath his cheek like that. Warmth blooms in Theo's chest, a feeling so bright, it chases away any lingering autumn chill.

"Of course not," Theo agrees, voice just as soft. "I'm your enemy."

"I'm your prisoner." Evland's eyes close, soft exhales pouting his lips. "Your only prisoner. Because you have no others."

"No others. No one else. Only you."

"Only me."

The night envelopes them, and the world steps away, leaving only the cool embrace of darkness and the warmth of the bed. Theo isn't sure when sleep drags his eyes closed, only that before slumber finally comes for him, he spends his time tracing Evland's fine features with his gaze.