Chapter 4

CHAPTER4

Tristan didn’t have a headache.

It was the first thing that occurred to him when he woke, that his head didn’t feel like it was splitting in half, that he wasn’t absolutely parched—or needing a bucket. It had been a while since he’d woken feeling relatively well-rested, and that was strange enough to where it almost felt like a kick in the nuts.

What was he doing with himself?

If he hadn’t been drunk enough to have lasting effects, what had happened the night before?

Tristan wasn’t attracted to men. Yet here he was, in bed with one, after experiencing a night like no other with him. Sex with women was good and pleasurable.

Sex with Opal had been… the stuff of dreams. Huh. He didn’t know what to make of that.

He needed to just get up and leave before Opal woke, before this turned into something truly awkward with the man’s insistence on romance and… whatever other ridiculous ideas he possessed. The other man’s breathing was even, and Tristan seized the opportunity to try to slide out from under the arm around his chest.

As soon as he shifted, though, Opal’s grip tightened, and he pulled Tristan closer to himself with surprising strength for a man so slight.

“Mmm,” Opal said sleepily, nuzzling Tristan’s shoulder. “Good morning. You smell so good.”

“Ah,” Tristan said, slumping back down onto the bed. Damn it. “You’re awake.” He didn’t know what else to say. He’d had plenty of one-night-stands with women before, but even as alluring as Opal was, he was still male. It was confusing, to put it lightly, and he really wished he had time to process before he was expected to be social and face all of this.

Opal sat up a little and smiled at Tristan. “I am. And I could go for a second round, if you wanted to. You remember how good I am with my tongue.” He flicked his tongue out a little as if to demonstrate, similar to how he’d licked the cheese the night before.

Tristan felt his cheeks heating up. “I need to get going, actually,” he said, starting to pull away from Opal. He needed time to sort this out in his mind. He wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t. He’d been so certain he was completely drunk, but now with the lack of morning effects, he could no longer be sure.

“Where are you going?” Opal asked, getting out of bed. He smoothed his skirt and carded his fingers—with those long, pink nails—through his hair. “Maybe we’re going in the same direction.”

Tristan sat up, looking for his own clothing. He spotted his breeches and went for them, avoiding looking at Opal’s lovely figure. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just have another kiss before he went on the road…

No. He was confused enough as it was. He had a quest to focus on, and he didn’t need distractions. “Ah, we aren’t,” he said firmly.

“How do you know? I could be going anywhere!” Opal went over to the wash basin and splashed his face, scrubbing lightly. Some of the shimmer on his face came off, but there was still something very… painted about him.

Tristan found himself watching for a moment, admiring the man’s strange beauty. He shook it off, though, rubbing a hand over his own face to try to clear his mind. “I’m going to the mountains,” he said after a moment. “There’s an artifact…” He trailed off before starting again, “It’s going to be a dangerous quest. I have to go alone.”

He braced himself. Opal had made his interest in knights and quests and love stories more than clear, and he didn’t want to fend off all the questions he knew were coming. But he didn’t know how else to dissuade him.

“The mountains!” Opal exclaimed, walking closer to Tristan. “I love the mountains. I live near the mountains. I know all about mountains. I’m sure I can help you find whatever it is you’re looking for.” Opal nodded with conviction. “This sounds like a great plan. The two of us can find your thingit, we’ll slowly get to know each other, enjoy some very heart-pounding and sweet and romantic moments, and then…” He smiled widely, turning the full effect of his radiance on Tristan.

And then? Tristan could only imagine where Opal’s thoughts were going, and he had no idea what to think about it.

His heartbeat quickened as he looked Opal up and down. He wasn’t usually this easily affected by beauty, but there was something about Opal that just grabbed him by the balls and refused to let it go. “This isn’t a… romantic quest,” Tristan tried to say, for all that his mouth felt dry. “I’m looking for a dangerous object to slay dragons with.”

For a second, Opal’s smile faltered. “Right, the dragon thing. I suppose if you had a dangerous, magical object, you could kill a small, young dragon.”

"Or one in human form," Tristan retorted. "Their horns and scales should be obvious, and I should be able to kill it before it even notices me."

Opal laughed nervously. “Perhaps. But I think even in human form, a dragon would be fairly strong.”

Tristan shook his head. “I’ll have the element of surprise on my side.”

“You’re right, you would be very surprising!” Opal knocked his shoulder against Tristan’s. “Your quest to protect the people is a… a noble one, and you rescued me, so I feel I must repay you. By accompanying you. And helping you fight… dragons.”

A noble quest. Tristan liked to think it was, but at the same time…

He mostly wanted to slaughter the dragon who had killed Evan and ruined his family forever.

He wasn’t dashing or brave or noble at all.

Tristan eyed Opal. “Why do you get so strange when I talk about dragons?” he asked. He pulled his tunic on then turned his attention in full to him. “You sound like…” He didn’t even know what word to use. Someone as lovely as Opal didn’t need to be fawning all over dragons like they were lovely creatures instead of the foul beasts they really were.

But some people—like the king of fucking Kithage—were monster-fuckers, and they were almost as dangerous as the creatures themselves.

“Weird? I don’t sound weird.” Opal placed his hands on Tristan’s shoulders and rubbed gently. “I’m just worried about you. I don’t want you to get hurt, and like you’ve said, dragons are, um… despicable, nasty, terrible creatures that destroy cities for no good reason. And they need to be dealt with. But they’re also strong, and have magic, and you’re just one knight. A very dashing and capable knight, but… well, dragons.”

“That’s why I need the magical token…” Tristan said, and it was a fight not to get distracted by a few touches. What was wrong with him? He wasn’t usually like…

This.

Whatever this was.

“What is the token?” Opal asked, and the curiosity sounded genuine. “I don’t think I’ve heard of any magical artifact to slay dragons, and I’ve… studied a lot of magical artifacts. Well, my sister has, and she likes to tell us all about these things.”

Tristan took a deep breath and stepped away from Opal. “I doubt it. I only know about it because I scoured the royal palace’s library for information on how to slay a dragon. And it’s not impossible to do it without magic, but it’s hard. Better to use a sword designed specifically for that purpose.”

Now Opal inhaled sharply. “A… magic sword? Those are a dime a dozen, aren’t they? And most of them aren’t as magical as they purport to be. Your sword has a minor enchantment on it.” Opal laughed nervously.

Tristan blinked at him. It did? He’d never known the sword to be anything other than utterly average.

“I mean, it’s a very nice sword. It looks like it’s brought you far, and helped you slay many an evil-doer.” Opal twisted a lock of his hair around his fingers nervously. Those fingers were so slender, a far cry from most men’s…

No. Tristan shook that thought off. “What kind of enchantment is it? How do you know?” he asked curiously. “This is just a sword the palace blacksmith made for me. All knights receive one.”

Opal peered at the sword. “Mostly to stay sharp for longer than usual, I think. And it won’t get rusty as fast. Minor utility spells.”

“The sword I’m looking for…” Tristan rummaged in his coat pocket and pulled out a folded-up paper, where he’d copied the relevant passages from the book. “It was forged over five hundred years ago. ‘To slay the evil dragon, Gregor took the horn of a unicorn, the eye of a basilisk, the claws of a wyvern, and the purest of all diamonds to the legendary orc smith Ugnar. These the smith imbued into the blade and forged a sword so sharp that it could penetrate even dragon scales.’”

Tristan looked up at Opal again, not sure what he was hoping for. Opal’s smile had dropped a little.

“Those are… very specific items with very specific magical properties,” Opal said. “Kind of barbaric, to take pieces of other magical creatures just to kill a dragon. I know nobody likes wyverns, but that’s simply cruel.”

But that was the thing. They were creatures. All right, maybe unicorns had a good reputation, but dragons, basilisks, and wyverns? No. They needed to be slain. So what if a few body parts were necessary in other applications?

“Well,” Tristan continued, “I consulted with the court sorceress, and she thought the spellwork would be sound. The only problem would be to forge it, and I asked the few orcs in Naran, but none of them knew what techniques would have been used. They recognized the name, though. That blacksmith is legendary even to them, which leads me to believe the story is true.”

“What makes orcs different?” Opal asked suddenly. “They aren’t human. Why are orcs all right to talk to, and, um, get magical artifacts from?”

Tristan blinked at him. “They’re humanoid, if not human. They have a reputation for being brutes, but they aren’t really that bad. They don’t go out of their way to attack people.”

“Do other creatures?” Opal sighed and sat down on the bed again with a heavy thud. “I just mean… Well, never mind. Go on, what does this all lead to?”

Tristan was rather certain Opal had read too many fairy tales in his life, and not the kinds with the real endings where dragons had to be slain and basilisks turned people into stone and wyverns were winged menaces. He was going to be gone soon, though, and there was no real harm in talking about the sword, was there? “The sword, this Drakmord as it was called, was hidden away somewhere in Phassis. Since I can’t find somebody to recreate it, that means I’ll simply have to find the original.”

Opal drew his eyebrows together. “And… you’re sure it’s still around? Wouldn’t there have been countless adventurers before you who tried to find it?”

“Well, yes, but they didn’t have the same determination I do,” Tristan said, feeling a little defensive at the idea that he would fail simply because others had. “And they didn’t have the compass.”

“Compass?” Opal sat up straighter, peering at Tristan with more interest. “There’s a compass, too? This sounds like… a proper adventure.”

Tristan pulled the compass out of his pocket and showed it to Opal. The needle kept spinning and spinning, never once settling on north. “This was in the royal vaults. The court sorceress and I found it, and she agreed that it would be a good idea for me to retrieve the Drakmord, especially given the situation in Kithage.”

“Kithage.” Opal made a disgusted noise. “Stupid Kithage.” He peered closer at the compass. “How does it work? It’s not pointing anywhere.”

“Well… no. That’s why I’m here, in Lurina.” Tristan put the compass back in his pocket. “The sorceress thinks there’s an enchantment on it, one that she couldn’t figure out. But the sorcerer Izar is the best in Phassis, and he’s got some expertise on magical artifacts. I was on my way to see him when I spotted you, and…”

Opal’s smile blossomed. “And you rescued me! Oh, you put your quest on hold for me? I’m ever so grateful, kind Tristan.”

The words made Tristan feel a little bashful, which was odd, to say the least. “It… Ah…” It wasn’t as though he’d had to put his quest off for long, and anyone in his position would’ve done the same.

Why was Opal so adamant on believing that it meant something?

Why couldn’t Tristan convince himself it didn’t?

“All the more reason why I should accompany you,” Opal said with conviction. “I saw the sorcerer Izar yesterday. He seems a good sort. And I do know a bit of magic, and if the sword is somewhere in the mountains, hidden behind layers of spells and traps, you will definitely need assistance. Ah, not that you aren’t fully capable, but it’s never a good idea to go wandering into magical places all on your own.”

“It isn’t safe,” Tristan argued. “I could never endanger someone else for this quest, especially someone I only just rescued.” That was the only reason he couldn’t stand the idea of putting Opal into the path of danger, right?

Ugh. What was wrong with his head? He almost wished he had the usual headache instead of this constant string of confusing thoughts.

Opal sighed dreamily. “You are so perfect. It’s decided. You can’t change my mind.” He hopped off the bed and straightened his skirts once more. “Come on. Let’s go visit that sorcerer. Well, no, let’s buy some meat buns first. Unless you’d like to have a romantic breakfast… Is that a thing? Do people do romantic breakfasts?”

Tristan rubbed at his short-cropped hair, wondering when he’d turned into such an idiot. “That isn’t what I—” He sighed. “You can’t come on the quest with me, but I guess it wouldn’t hurt for you to accompany me to visit Izar.”

Opal hooked his arm around Tristan’s and leaned down to rest his head on Tristan’s shoulder. “Great. This is the start of our great adventure together! I can’t wait to retell our epic tale to all of my family.”

“We aren’t—” Oh, forget it. There was no point in trying to talk sense into the stray he seemed to have picked up along the way. Tristan would try to slip off when Opal got distracted, which surely wouldn’t take too much, considering. Until then, well… It was fine.

Everything was fine.

* * *

The sorcerer Izar’sshop was outside of the city, in a house with a tower. Opal had chattered most of the way there, telling Tristan of the stories he’d read and something about his brother, whom he now had a grudge against, and a wedding that was simply beautiful, and… ten siblings? He’d mentioned the ten siblings before, hadn’t he?

Tristan couldn’t fathom having that many.

Would it hurt as much to lose one of ten siblings as it had to lose his only brother?

He didn’t know.

“There’s an enchantment on the windows and doors,” Opal explained, pointing. “That’s how I knew he was a very legitimate sorcerer. Because a lot of them forget to enchant the windows, as if intruders only come in through the front door.”

“Or he’s just had run-ins from the wrong places and learned his lesson the hard way,” Tristan pointed out. “But yes, I’ve been told he’s a very good sorcerer who knows his craft well. Hopefully…” He grasped the compass in his pocket. “Hopefully, he’ll have the answers I need.”

Opal pushed the door open, and a small chime rang. He stepped inside without waiting for Tristan. “Hello! Sir sorcerer?”

Tristan cautiously followed him inside. He didn’t know what he’d do if—no, when—Opal started blabbering on about them having some shared quest that they needed to figure out.

Did the man ever tire of talking?

There was only one person inside the shop, a man with long white hair and a pair of large glasses. Judging from his robes, and the many necklaces, he must have been the sorcerer.

Izar adjusted his glasses and looked at them with a surprised expression. “Back so soon? Is the charm not to your satisfaction?”

Opal waved his hands in front of himself. “No, the charm was fine. Good, even! I love it. It did exactly what I wanted it to. We’re here for something else, this time.” He motioned to Tristan. “My knight needs assistance from you, good sorcerer.”

Charm? Tristan looked from Izar to Opal, then back, only to shake his head. It wasn’t his business. “Yes,” he said after a brief pause. “I have a magical item that isn’t working like it’s supposed to.” He produced the compass from his pocket, holding it up. “It’s a compass, but it keeps spinning. I don’t know why it won’t settle on one direction.”

Izar leaned closer to Tristan. “Could you set it down on the counter? So I can take a closer look.” He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.

If he lost the compass, the court sorceress would be furious with him. But she hadn’t been able to fix it either, so he had no choice but to seek outside help.

He carefully placed it onto the counter, looking anxiously at Izar.

For the first few seconds, Izar did nothing but look at the compass. He had his hand on his glasses, angling them in different ways a few times, as if that would change what he was seeing through them.

Tristan fidgeted as he watched, impatient for answers. This was hardly an easy matter, or he wouldn’t be here, but even so. Izar was supposed to be the best.

Then Izar tapped on the compass’s face. “This is very old magic.” He used two delicate fingers to turn the compass over, and his eyebrows rose. “That’s…” His gaze went from Tristan to Opal before settling back on Tristan again. “Do you know where it’s meant to go?”

“I know what it’s meant to find,” Tristan hedged. “But if I knew where it led, well…” He shrugged helplessly. “I wouldn’t be here.”

“What it’s meant to find.” Izar leaned over the compass, and this time he clutched one of the many necklaces he wore. “This… if it’s real, this would lead to a very dangerous item.” He stood up straight and whispered something.

The back of the compass began to emit a light. Tristan took a step closer—

But Izar put his hand over the compass. “I can fix it. But it won’t come cheap.”

“Whatever it costs, I can pay for it,” Opal said immediately. “I still have some gems on me.”

Tristan had almost forgotten Opal was standing there—somehow. Maybe because he’d finally stopped chattering on and on. “What? No. Of course you wouldn’t need to pay for it. I’m perfectly capable of paying the fee myself.”

He hoped, anyway.

“Fifty gold to fix it,” Izar said steadily. “Because I am very certain the item on the other end of this trail is worth far more than that.”

That much? Tristan’s shoulders slumped as dismay coursed through him. “I’m not seeking it for its monetary value,” he protested. “I want to do a service to the kingdom.” He doubted that would make any difference to the sorcerer, though.

Opal was already pulling out a small purse. “How much is that in gems? I have… oh, this diamond is fairly large. And here are a few sapphires… I won’t give you any opals, since they’re no good for any decent spells, apparently. Ugh, and a few jades. I don’t even know why I have this. Oh, wait, yes I do. That was after the wedding, and my brother said I could raid his home for some books, and he wasn’t going to miss a few jades anyway. He hasn’t, by the way, or I’d have heard from him already.”

“Opal!” Tristan said, aghast. “Do you always tell everyone you meet how many items of value you have on hand?” He cast an apologetic look at Izar. “No offense meant, friend, but not everyone has good intentions.”

Izar’s eyes were on Opal. “You want to pay me to fix this? Even though it leads to…”

Opal smiled back at Izar. “Yes? Anything for my darling Tristan. He’s amazing. You should have seen him yesterday, after he saved me from the bandits. And we had the most riveting conversation, and… Anyway. Is this enough to cover the cost?” He held out several sparkling gemstones to Izar, and even Tristan could tell they were worth more than fifty gold.

Izar coughed into his hand and nodded. “Yes. That’s enough.” He took the offered gems and laid them into a small box on the counter. Something strange happened, because as soon as the gems were in the box, it looked like they’d disappeared.

Magic.

Izar turned the compass around again, where its needle was still spinning and spinning. He took one of his necklaces off and placed it around the compass in a neat circle, then tapped four beads in quick succession, on what would have been the four cardinal points of the compass.

Izar’s glasses shimmered strangely as he chanted some words. The atmosphere in the room turned strangely dry, and Tristan found his mouth parched.

Then there was a pop, and the compass’s needle came to a stop.

Izar let out a sigh. “There we go.” He looked down at the compass. “It appears to be pointing… southeast.”

“Oh,” Opal said with obvious disappointment. “I thought it would be north.”

“That’s all?” Tristan said, equally disappointed. He’d expected… something more—something worth fifty gold instead of something that didn’t appear to have taken much effort at all.

Izar arched his eyebrows at Tristan. “What more do you want a compass to do? It points somewhere. This one doesn’t point north. Presumably if you follow its direction, you’ll end up where you want to be.”

“It’s fine!” Opal said quickly, snatching up the compass and taking a few steps toward the door. “This is how adventures are supposed to go, anyway. We’ll go where this compass leads and conquer whatever trials it throws at us. Come along, darling knight.”

Tristan rather wanted to protest that it was his compass and he should carry it, but it felt childish. Even so, he’d get it back when they got outside because Opal was not going with him on this journey. He had to keep himself safe, and he couldn’t do that while watching out for a helpless waif—even one who claimed to have a little bit of magic of his own. He hurried after Opal.

“Safe travels,” Izar said to them as they exited.

Once outside, Opal held out the compass and faced the direction it pointed. “I guess there are mountains in that direction. It would take us close to southern Priyana. I usually go north to get to Priyana.” He paused, then added quickly, “Since the roads that way are better.” He pursed his lips in a pout. “East Phassis has terrible roads. Are you okay to travel through fields and forests?”

“You do realize that you aren’t coming with me, don’t you?” Tristan asked him, plucking the compass out of Opal’s pale hand. The sorceress had entrusted the priceless item to him, and he wasn’t about to let it go missing.

It wasn’t an entirely fair thought, considering Opal had just paid for the repair…

“And, ah, thank you for paying for it,” Tristan added quickly, feeling a bit of chagrin for not showing his appreciation before trying to let Opal down gently.

“Hmm? Oh, that was nothing. I have plenty more at home. I’m sure if I visit my brother Jasper, he’ll have plenty of shinies he doesn’t want. He doesn’t like the shiny stones, you understand.” Opal laughed, the sound clear and bubbling. “He really obsesses over the silliest things.”

Tristan looked blankly at him for a moment. “Your family seems…” What was the word to describe the utter strangeness of Opal’s family? “Interesting.” There. That was polite, or as polite as he was going to get. It wasn’t entirely kind, but Tristan had never claimed to be all that kind, or good, or anything that exemplified the knightly virtues.

“They are. Except Peridot.” Opal grabbed Tristan’s hand and started walking in the direction the compass had pointed. It seemed so strange that all of the family had gemstone names, but before he could inquire about it, Opal continued, “Anyway, enough about my family. I already know my family. I want to know more about you.” His smile dropped a little. “You could tell me about your brother, if you wanted. Only if you want, of course.”

Tristan’s heart plummeted into his stomach at the mention of his brother, and he had to blink against the tears that threatened to sting at his eyes. “No,” he barked out with a little more aggression than he’d intended. “No. I don’t want to talk about him.”

Fuck talking about gemstone names. Fuck talking about a brother he’d never see again.

His chest felt tight, and he wasn’t sure if he could even properly draw in a breath.

He planted his feet, refusing to move. “You aren’t coming with me, Opal,” he said, for what felt like the hundredth time.

Opal smiled back at him. “Of course I am. What if you need more help with magical things? And wouldn’t walking alone get lonely? You’d have nothing but your own thoughts to accompany you.”

Put that way, the solitude didn’t sound so appealing. Tristan had been alone with his thoughts plenty, and he didn’t have a barrel of beer to take with him to keep himself from getting lost in them.

“I might not be able to protect you from everything,” he said, though he had a feeling he was going to end up giving in. He’d still need to get a flagon of something else, something stronger, if he was going to survive this journey without losing his mind.

Or maybe he just needed another night with Opal.

Or two flagons.

Or three.

Hell, he might need ten to get through this.

“That’s okay,” Opal answered, and his cheerful voice sounded less fake now. “You won’t have to worry about me. I won’t get in your way at all. Soon you’ll wonder how you ever managed without me, in fact.” He laughed softly. “But really, I’ll be fine. I just want to spend more time with you.”

“I’m not that interesting,” Tristan said, rubbing at the back of his neck. He sighed, then started walking back toward town. They’d need a horse, and supplies, and… By the gods, they needed a lot if they were going to travel together.

Well. The company might turn out to be nice, in the end.