1. Benjin

one

Benjin

Benjin awoke to the glorious smell of sizzling bacon. Grinning to himself, he rolled over in bed and stretched with a wide yawn. Though part of him was saddened to find the spot beside him empty, he could hardly be mad at Haldric for rising early when it meant a delicious breakfast. More quality time together beneath the sheets could wait.

After all, they had the rest of their lives to enjoy one another's company.

Throwing back the knitted blankets, he climbed from bed and stumbled around the still-dark bedroom, tugging on the first clean clothes he could find. He'd never been much of a morning person, and he refused to open the heavy curtains drawn across the lone window until he had some proper food in his belly.

Another waft of bacon came to him, and he narrowed his eyes as his mouth watered. Was it his imagination, or was the smell a bit too enticing, carried a bit too far on the air? He wouldn't put it past Haldric to use a simple Compulsion or Alteration to enhance the scent and help coax him out of bed.

Briefly, he considered crawling back under the covers in protest before sighing and pushing the door open. Trick or not, he couldn't deny its effectiveness.

He followed the narrow hall to the cramped living room and its adjoining kitchen. Too-bright sunlight streamed in from the curtains Haldric had already yanked open across the front of their tiny cottage.

Benjin squinted at Haldric's familiar tall, broad-shouldered frame bustling away in front of the stove. "What are you trying to do, blind me?"

Haldric glanced over his shoulder past his mane of dark hair and arched an eyebrow, a grin playing over his plush lips. "Don't be absurd. If I wanted to blind you, I'd conjure my own light rather than rely on something as fickle as the sun."

Benjin attempted a scowl, but he couldn't hold it for long. Not with Haldric smirking at him beneath his sparkling green eyes. Those eyes could be as hard and unforgiving as the dense jungles of Razaketh when Haldric wanted them to be, but right now they were fully open and deep enough to get lost in.

By the Goddess, how I love this man .

Disgusted by his own sappiness, Benjin tore his gaze away and squinted out the front window. "Any sign of that Void-cursed peddler?" he asked, surveying Haldric's garden as though intruders might even now be hidden in a rose bush or crouched behind the rickety gate Benjin had every intention of repairing someday.

Haldric shook his head with what Benjin chose to believe was fond exasperation and turned back to his breakfast preparations. "He really wasn't that bad."

"The man doesn't know how to take no for an answer." Benjin gave up on his vigil and paced across the living room, weaving around a sagging armchair and a table just big enough for two. "How many times has he been here this past week—three? Four?"

"There's nothing suspicious about a merchant trying to procure a sale, Benjin."

"As if anyone in Gerald's Spring could ever afford his outrageous prices! I'm telling you, Hal, there's something off about him, and it's not just the absurd mark-up on his wares."

Haldric paused in the middle of chopping vegetables long enough to shoot him another brief grin. "I love it when you call me Hal. Makes you seem almost tender instead of the unfeeling cynic you so often pretend to be."

Benjin masked his embarrassed blush by rolling his eyes. "Trust me, I feel plenty. For example, I feel very strongly that you should've let me use a fire Evocation on that peddler. Now that would've gotten the message across."

"And probably sent him screaming to the nearest town guard for help."

"Worth it," Benjin muttered. He stopped his pacing in front of another window and snuck a quick peek out at the still-empty garden.

"Are you telling me there's nothing else you'd rather be feeling right now?"

Haldric's teasing tone sent a spike of heat clawing up Benjin's back. Striding over, he looped his arms around Haldric's broad back and thick chest, marveling at the tight bands of muscle there, so dissimilar to his own narrow frame.

Haldric's soft black hair, tied back in a loose ponytail, brushed Benjin's cheek as he rested his chin on Haldric's shoulder and leaned in to whisper, "I think you already know the answer to that, Hal."

Haldric shuddered and relaxed into Benjin's embrace. Benjin clung to him more tightly. Even after all the time they'd spent here together, he could still hardly believe that someone like Haldric wanted to be with someone like him . Every morning he got to wake up next to this kind, beautiful man was a small miracle…and the biggest miracle of all was that Haldric inexplicably felt the same.

Benjin pressed his lips to Haldric's neck, reveling in the rough scratch of unshaven bristle as he traced a path up Haldric's square jaw, planting soft kisses all the while.

Haldric sucked in a breath. " Benjin ," he exhaled in a gasp before spinning and grabbing Benjin's head, drawing him in for a fierce kiss.

Brief gratitude flickered through Benjin that Haldric had thought to set down his knife first. Then, all conscious thought fled as he lost himself in the firm press of Haldric's lips. The play of his breath. The intoxicating taste of his mouth.

"I love you," he heard himself whisper, scarcely able to believe himself capable of such a declaration. "Until the Immortals cast back the Void for good, until the warring tribes of the Gaumuron Swamps make peace, until the final star in the Great Beyond goes dark, I love you, Haldric."

"And I you, Benjin," Haldric murmured in-between stolen kisses.

They stood there, locked in each other's arms, basking in their shared contentment, until Benjin caught a whiff of acrid smoke.

Pulling back, he raised an eyebrow. "How about until the bacon burns?"

Cursing, Haldric broke free of their embrace and rushed to the stove. Azure runeflame laced with threads of silver coated his hand as he channeled a quick Evocation of wind and frost to lower the temperature.

Benjin always enjoyed watching Haldric perform magic. His precise hand gestures were so much more graceful than Benjin's half-trained fumbling. Benjin might have been born with a certain innate gift for Evocation magic, but what Haldric lacked in raw talent, he more than made up for in study and dedication.

"Go on. Sit." Humor glinted in Haldric's eyes as he shooed Benjin away. "You're distracting me."

Chuckling, Benjin obeyed, settling onto his preferred stool by the table. While he waited for Haldric to finish cooking, he amused himself by conjuring a small puppet made from flame. The animated fire danced across the tabletop in a crude approximation of a twirling ballerina.

"Must you do that at the table?" Haldric complained good-naturedly. He slid a platter of bacon in front of Benjin, along with fresh fruit from the garden and a heaping pile of scrambled eggs. "It leaves little scorch marks all over the wood."

"Then, it sounds like there's no harm in me continuing to do it since the damage has already been done."

Haldric gave Benjin a flat look as he settled in the other stool across the table. Benjin fixed him with an innocent smile, holding it for a span of heartbeats before dispelling the animated fire with a tiny burst of runeflame. He dug into the food with unbridled enthusiasm.

"We really should think about investing in a couple chickens," Haldric said, nibbling on a piece of bacon while he watched Benjin gorge himself. "Prices are only going up thanks to the shortages, and we'd save a fortune in gold gallants at the rate you go through eggs."

"And I suppose you'd expect me to care for them?" Benjin protested through a mouthful of food.

"I bet you'd take right to them. Give it a week, and you'll be demanding we keep the chickens inside with us so they don't get too cold in the autumn chill."

Benjin hated that Haldric was probably right. The Void-cursed man knew him too well. "I mean, it would be the prudent choice. We're far enough from town that all the wolves and other predators might try to eat them."

"Wolves." Haldric shook his head and chuckled. "Right."

They ate in companionable silence until Benjin leaned back in his chair with a satisfied groan, resting a hand over his belly. "I'm not sure I can eat another bite."

Haldric grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment."

He rose and began gathering up the used dishes before Benjin laid a hand over his, stopping him. Haldric looked at him questioningly.

"Here, let me," Benjin said.

"Oho," Haldric laughed, his emerald eyes sparkling. "You really are feeling sentimental today, aren't you?"

Benjin flushed and stalked toward the kitchen. A wave of his hand and a flash of runeflame sent the dishes careening after him. In his haste, however, he'd imbued the Evocation with a touch too much force and had to scramble to catch the plates before they shattered against the wall. He sheepishly deposited them in the basin.

"Well, what do you expect with all that talk of love?" he said, attempting a more complex Conjuration to fill the basin with water. Once again, the spell refused to cooperate, spraying water across the front of his tunic and britches.

Haldric was there in an instant, his delicate fingers working runeflame to dry Benjin off. "Are you all right?"

"Everything except my pride," Benjin sighed, hunching over the filled sink.

He tensed when Haldric draped his arms around him and pressed a tender kiss to the back of his neck. "Nothing to be ashamed of, love. Your pride is intact."

Benjin avoided looking at Haldric. A familiar shame coiled in his chest. "I wish I had your control," he said, his voice quiet. "Magic comes so naturally to you. It's like…like watching a master musician or dancer, every note they play or movement they make effortless."

Haldric cupped Benjin's cheek, forcing his head up to meet his eyes. Benjin's breath caught at the warmth and compassion he saw in those verdant depths. He couldn't resist sweeping a hand through Haldric's flowing hair.

"I worked hard to learn my magic," Haldric said gently. "And so did you. I might be good at memorizing spells out of dusty old tomes, but you—you were born with the spark within you. Control can be taught, but that connection, that raw power… that is all entirely you."

Benjin kissed him again, softer this time, straining to project the depth of his feeling through their sealed lips. You are my everything. And I hope that, someday, I can make you as happy as you've made me .

A rough knock sounded on the door.

Benjin jerked back as Haldric spun toward the sound, his brow furrowing. "Goddess' mercy, who could that be this early?"

Benjin's eyes narrowed. "If it's that Void-cursed merchant again, I swear to the Goddess, I'm going to—"

"Open up!" an unfamiliar voice shouted from the other side of the door. "By order of King Roland!"

Benjin glanced at Haldric and saw his own confusion echoed in his husband's wide-eyed gaze. "Did you commit some terrible crime I'm not aware of?"

Haldric slowly shook his head. "Gerald's Spring is over a week's travel from the capital. What business could the king possibly have with us?"

The pounding at the door intensified. The old wood creaked, starting to crack and buckle beneath the sustained assault. At this rate, it wouldn't be long before whoever was on the other side broke it down.

Benjin squared his shoulders, fierce determination flooding him. It would take more than evoking the name of some distant monarch he'd never met to cow him in his own home. He started toward the door, but Haldric intercepted him, holding up a hand.

"Hal!" Benjin hissed. "What are you doing?"

Haldric gave him a shaky smile. "You look ready to start hurling fireballs and wait to ask questions of the ashes. Let me handle this."

Before Benjin could protest further, Haldric had stepped past him and thrown open the door, pasting on his best, most diplomatic smile. "Blessings of the Goddess upon you, gentlemen. What can I do for—"

Haldric cut off abruptly as gauntleted hands grabbed him and hauled him through the doorway.

"Hal!" Runeflame crackled across Benjin's palms as he rushed forward. King's orders or not, if they thought they could lay so much as a finger on Haldric against his will, they were gravely mistaken.

"Goddess have mercy," someone outside exclaimed. "It is him!"

"The prince!" another voice cried. "We've found him! At last, Prince Haldric is safe!"

That brought Benjin up short. Prince? What in the name of the Goddess were they talking about?

An image flickered before his eyes, some memory buried in the dark recesses of his mind, and he groaned, clutching his head.

A stone room paneled with intricate wooden carvings. A simple chair resting beside a small side table. And perched on the chair, his back ramrod straight as his foot jittered in that way he had when he was nervous, one hand in his lap and the other worrying knots in his silken black hair, sat…

Armored figures burst through the open doorway into the cottage, jarring Benjin out of the… Dream? Memory?

Whatever it had been, he'd worry about it later. The soldiers wore green tabards over their steel breastplates. Golden edging and insignia marked them as belonging to the king's personal regiment. Their hostile faces scowled at him from beneath their gleaming metal helms. Many already had their swords and shields drawn.

"There he is!" one of them shouted, brandishing his sword at Benjin. "The dark sorcerer!"

With a burst of shock, Benjin realized it was the very merchant who'd been harassing him and Haldric this past week, though he looked little enough like a peddler now. Had he been a spy, scouting them out before this ambush?

Benjin felt frozen to the spot, his mind struggling to make sense of how abruptly the outside world had invaded their perfect little paradise. Only a handful of minutes ago, he and Haldric had been enjoying a quiet breakfast together, as they had countless times before.

What was he supposed to do? Did he try to fight these men? Did he retreat? But Haldric was still out there. Haldric needed him, and he—

From somewhere outside past the advancing soldiers, Haldric screamed, "Benjin! Run!"

The shout jarred Benjin from his stupor. Reacting on instinct, he feigned darting forward, then leaped to the side. Sword strokes sliced the air where he'd been. He took advantage of the soldiers being off balance to shove their feet with a blast of force.

He expected them to topple over, but they barely even stumbled, easily recovering. Brief flares of light from their shields drew his eye, and his gaze flicked to the etched runes he hadn't noticed before. His gut twisted.

Protection sigils, meant to weaken and deflect magic targeting the bearer.

High quality wards like that would be difficult and expensive to set up. This wasn't some random attack. These soldiers had come prepared to deal with mages. He and Haldric had been targeted. But why? And what was this nonsense about a prince?

"Remember, the Grand Magus needs him alive, so no lethal blows." The orders came from a guard in the back. By the elaborate insignia marking his collar, Benjin took him to be their leader. The man glanced at Benjin, and Benjin was surprised to see something resembling bitter hurt lurking beneath his anger. "Surrender now, traitor, and this will go much easier for you."

Benjin peered past the guards, gauging how quickly he could make it to the doorway. "Thanks, but I'll pass."

The head guard shrugged, his expression grim. "Suit yourself."

A gesture from him sent half the soldiers fanning out around the edges of the room to encircle Benjin. The rest remained with their leader to block the door.

Benjin fought down a savage grin. Good—the fewer soldiers between him and Haldric, the better.

He waited until the head guard opened his mouth to speak, then dashed forward, holding his hands out to either side while drawing upon his reserve of runeflame. Blue and silver energy coursed over his fingers as more waves of force erupted from him. This time, however, he didn't direct them at the warded soldiers but at the items scattered about the room.

The scarred table and stools rocketed forward, crashing into the nearest pair of soldiers. They tumbled to the ground with surprised shouts. The sagging armchair Haldric used for reading made quick work of the guards on the other side. Plates and silverware from breakfast joined cups, bowls, books, and whatever other loose items Benjin's runeflame could find, his Evocation transforming them into zipping missiles.

Within seconds, his and Haldric's cozy living space had devolved into a whirlwind of chaotic destruction. The guards' careful lines disintegrated beneath the telekinetic assault. Benjin's heart twinged at the mayhem enveloping their home. I swear to the Goddess, I'll make whoever's responsible for this pay.

Taking advantage of the bedlam, he wove past guards and animated objects toward the door, his sole thought reaching Haldric. He was a mere handful of paces away when a figure loomed before him—the head guard.

"Clever," the man said.

He kept his shield carefully positioned between them. Benjin tensed when a sheen of pale white soulflame rose to coat his sword. So, he was a soulflame warrior—a type of caster who learned to channel their power to enhance their martial prowess. That made him a more dangerous foe than Benjin had expected. Better to avoid a fight if possible.

"But harnessing that much raw magic can't have been easy on you," the leader continued. His assessing gaze weighed Benjin, studying him from head to toe. "I'd wager you're feeling pretty drained right about now."

Benjin raised hands crackling with runeflame, pleased to see the head guard tense. "You're forgetting one crucial detail."

"Oh?" The guard shuffled a cautious step forward. His eyes flicked behind Benjin—no doubt to where more soldiers were recovering, preparing to close in on him. "And what's that?"

"How Void-cursed angry I am."

With a terrible splintering noise, the front door ripped from its hinges. The head guard barely had time to widen his eyes before the sundered wood slammed into his back, sending him sprawling to the floor. Benjin threw himself forward, rolling under the door as it sailed past him and crashed into the guards behind.

Ignoring their muffled shouts, he propelled himself to his feet and dashed past the dazed leader out into the garden. The front gate lay in splintered ruin, and boots had trampled Haldric's flowers and vegetables.

The sight sent an irrational spike of outrage through Benjin. He shoved it down, desperately scanning the surrounding area for any sign of Haldric. His stomach fell when he came up empty. No Haldric—just several dozen more royal guards, some mounted and some on foot. They must've already taken him away.

A nearby soldier finally noticed Benjin standing there and shouted, pointing. Benjin cursed under his breath and dashed around the edge of the cottage, making for a nearby copse of trees. The woods there weren't large, but the cover should make it harder to pursue him on horseback. Beyond that, he had little choice but to trust his magic and his greater knowledge of the area to help him evade his pursuers.

As he darted beneath the shadowed boughs, his thoughts returned to Haldric. A grim determination settled over him. He still had no idea what in the Goddess' name was going on, but he did know one thing: Haldric was in trouble.

And Benjin would do whatever it took to rescue him.