Soulbound: The Republic, #4

In a relationship that violates rules and expectations, Mayr and Tash have found their perfect match in each other. Despite their fears and difficult pasts, they hope for a shared future with security and a family. When Mayr's secret first love, Arieve, proposes they create that family with her, it seems dreams could become reality.

But life is complicated, and so is the delicate balance between duty and love. While Mayr protects the Dahe family at all costs, Tash is determined to succeed as a priest. Both positions require sacrifice, forcing their relationship into painful choices. To make matters worse, criminals lurk in the shadows, seeking revenge on them and those they guard.

The life they want risks losing everything—including Arieve and each other. Even if they can have it all, keeping it may take more than they can give.

Table of Contents

Blurb

Copyright

Content Notes, Warnings, and Disclaimers

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Title Page: Soulbound

Map

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Playlist for Soulbound

The Republic will continue in Rebel Call

Author's Note

Also by Archer Kay Leah

About The Republic Series

About the Author

SOULBOUND (The Republic 4)

By Archer Kay Leah

Published by Ashborne Stardust Press

Copyright © 2019 by Archer Kay Leah

Second edition, August 2019

First published by Less Than Three Press, 2018

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

Cover designed by Natasha Snow Designs; www.natashasnowdesigns.com

Map designed by Raelynn Marie

This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.

Digital ISBNs:

pdf ISBN 978-0-9958275-9-2

mobi ISBN 978-1-9992029-0-3

epub ISBN 978-1-9992029-1-0

Print ISBN 978-0-9958275-8-5

Content Notes, Warnings, and Disclaimers

Soulbound contains some explicit content, all of which is meant for adult readers. While the main relationship is MM, there is an MMF relationship that overlaps with it.

This story touches on several matters related to mental health and depictions of emotional and physical situations that could bother some readers. This includes references to and depictions of self-harm, suicide, and mentions of suicide-related behavior and intent. There are also depictions of depression, PTSS/PTSD and complex PTSS/PTSD (post-traumatic stress syndrome/disorder), survivor's guilt, and complications with pregnancy.

The story also contains instances of graphic violence, references to rape and domestic abuse, mentions of human trafficking, references to torture in a character's past, and an attack using explosive devices, as well as descriptions of the aftermath.

Finally, this story includes brief references to transphobia in a character's past.

Please note the story uses the gender-neutral pronouns ce and cir for one of the characters. These are not mistakes: they are the chosen pronouns of that character.

To Chester Bennington, with my love to Linkin Park, their families, friends, and fans.

Thank you for the music and words that have helped so many of us cope. Thank you for the inspiration and your wealth of creativity. Thank you for sharing your gifts with the world.

Gone, but not forgotten.

And for anyone who's stared into that dark abyss, looking at the end. You're never truly alone. Keep fighting, the best you can. Keep trying. You're needed and wanted, even if you don't know it yet.

Acknowledgements

This story met several challenges during its crafting, and it couldn't have gotten this far without help. My deepest, heartfelt thanks to Hudson Lin for braving the manuscript as a beta reader and offering pointers on where it needed more attention, and to Victoria Miles for the never-ending support as a friend, fan, and for being part of the family in this household.

Warm thanks, also, to A.M. Valenza for the help when I freaked out during my edits so close to the holidays. Thanks for being so patient, generous, and for the advice!

And finally, but never least, thank you to Sam Derr, Megan Derr, and Sasha Miller for all of their support and for giving this book (and me) its original literary home at Less Than Three Press, where I didn't have to hold back or restrain the muses. Thanks for a place where we could belong and for giving the entire series the wings to fly. None of these books would've happened without you! <3

Soulbound

THE REPUBLIC BOOK 4

ARCHER KAY LEAH

Chapter One

"Are we done dying yet? Please tell me we're done and dead."

Mayr snorted at Aeley Dahe's question as she crossed the study and threw herself into the chair behind her desk. She yanked a thick red and yellow-striped blanket over herself and hid beneath it, dark blonde hair and all. Only her elbow peeked out from beneath to lean against the arm of her chair, the deep brown and green fabric of her tunic sombre compared to the bright blanket and dark red walls of the study. The rest of her black and brown travel attire was strewn across the golden-brown rugs that covered the floor, haphazard piles of soggy fabric abandoned between him and the fire in the hearth.

If I say yes, does that mean you'll spend the rest of this afterlife nattering my ear off? Or can I get a nap first? Mayr retorted before he launched into a fit of sneezes. Rogue strands of his long black hair caught on the bronze clasps of his heavy black cloak. Drops of melted snow fell around him, adding to the mess on the already slick floor. Somehow he managed to unlace his cloak and toss it into the chair beside the stained-glass window to his right. He fumbled as he unbuckled the belt strapped across his chest, happy to have the weight of his sword off his back. His hands were painfully numb and red as he laid his sword over his cloak. "Next time, when you think it's a great idea to visit a prison, don't go when it's snowing."

And don't take you, Aeley added, turning her head. Even with her face covered, he knew she was making a face at him, tongue out, eyes crossed. If only the weather had frozen that. She may have been Tract Steward, but he would pay handsomely to see her stuck like that for a day. As her best friend and head of her family guard, it was only fair.

Yeah, take Pellon, he said, flexing his fingers. He likes freezing his balls. He loves warming them up afterwards even more.

Aeley snorted a laugh, followed by a groan. "Why didn't we bring blankets?" She whimpered and dropped her head back.

Don't look at me. I don't do weather.

No, you just do your guy. Hard. Aeley peeled back the corner of the blanket to reveal one of her brown eyes. You'll break his back one of these days, you and your hips of thrusting greatness.

Mayr tore off his black scarf and tossed it at her, hissing as his fingers tingled and protested. The scarf landed on the floor in front of her desk in a limp pile. She had to remind him of Tash right then. Just when I'd forgotten about what I promised…

He wanted to be back out in the cold, cramped inside a freezing carriage. Or at Footshred prison, interrogating prisoners and rubbing their faces in the freedom they would never have. Or wasting time with Severn, the one councilman on High Council who hated him most in all the republic and wanted his head for a paperweight.

Anywhere else but home.

No, anywhere else but near Tash, the one person Mayr wanted to press up against and lose himself in for the rest of the day, wrapped up in warmth and desire and need.

And he has so much need.

So are you going to tell him?

Mayr blinked at the question, the words lost to him.

Let's try that again, Aeley said slowly, flicking back the blanket until it settled in her lap. Are you going to tell Tash everything about today? She tugged up the sleeves of her tunic and lifted her legs onto the desk before crossing them at the ankles. Her muddy brown boots hung over the corner as she folded her arms and leaned back. After all, it's the two of you I have to thank for these lovely talks with a gang family and chatting up Severn for crime numbers.

We had help, Mayr mumbled. He stared at the fire, chewing on the inside of his cheek as unwelcome memories crashed through his unthawed thoughts.

Mm, I remember. All the more reason to tell him everything. Him, Ress, Adren—they know how nasty the Shar-denn is. They're going to be running from it for the rest of their lives, I imagine.

Yeah, I know. Mayr sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. His headache was back. Then again, anything to do with the Shar-denn brought on any number of headaches, particularly when he considered the events that had led them to this point.

One event stood out from the rest, its three-week-old images on a continual loop inside his mind: a fight he should have seen coming, sprawled out inside Ress's house in Araveena Ford, the town where Tash and Ress had grown up as best friends and family. More than that, they had also been brothers in the Shar-denn, a brutal gang that continued to plague their republic of Kattal from one generation to the next. A gang they had both betrayed in their own ways.

Adren had planned to kill Ress on behalf of the Shar-denn, determined to punish him for his part in the arrest of Adren's family, but nothing had played out as expected. Although Adren started with the intention to avenge cir family, ce changed cir mind. After that, everything fell apart: Adren and Ress forged a romantic connection and decided to run from the gang, inspired by Tash's successful defection. When Ress had called upon Tash to help them leave, Tash agreed and asked Mayr to do the same.

Their agreement came with a price: a brawl with members of the Shar-denn that injured not only Ress, but Tash, Mayr, and the others they had enlisted to help.

Just when Mayr had hoped the Shar-denn would never harm Tash again, they charged in with a wallop.

And now I hate myself because of what we have to do—what he has to do. If he's ever going to stand a chance at protecting Adren from whatever comes for cir, he's going to have to fight back. Him, a priest, a speaker of peace, a soother of soul-sucking ailments—and I have to train him. Today. Now.

He wanted to hide in Aeley's study forever.

As if she read his mind, she stared at him and wagged her finger at the door. Mayr let out a defeated sigh. They both had things to do.

Sorry, Aeley said, swinging down her legs. "I'm sure you'd love to sit here and watch me read, but I need to concentrate. She smiled and tossed her long hair over her shoulder. I'll see you at dinner, though."

Of course. Mayr spun on his heel and crossed the room to the door. If I see your wife, I'll let her know you're stealing her job and assaulting another quill.

Aeley laughed and waved him from the study. He obeyed without another word, knowing how much work she had, as if it ever ended. Although it was true: her work never would end as long as she was Tract Steward of Gailarin, their sizeable region in the republic for which she was responsible. Under the High Council's watchful authority, she managed everything that pertained specifically to Gailarin, from its citizens and finances to its resources and political games. There were always documents, always meetings, always someone in need of something. Gailarin did not run itself.

His thoughts, on the other hand, ran wide and far without any assistance from him. They whirled with possibility, every one of them a fleeting item on a subconscious list meant to tease and distract. If anything, they were delusions of urgency that ranted and railed against each other, flinging their heres and theres in a melee for attention. Yes, no, to the left, to the right, check the guards, take a nap, make for the kitchen, run for dear life, let it all out…

One thought. He needed to grasp onto one single thought.

Mayr stepped into the chilly hallway, hesitant as he closed the door to the study. With a hard yank on the gold handle, he waited for the latch to click before he let go, satisfied the dark red door would not creak open and bother Aeley. She needed to relax after their trip, not battle unwelcome gusts thanks to a door that begged to be replaced.

I'd tell her someone should replace it, but that someone would probably be me, and I'm not allowed near hammers. Cupping both hands around his mouth, he breathed out and rubbed his bare hands together, willing the heat to remain in them. The study was warm thanks to the housekeepers, but the rest of the Dahe estate felt as though an ice spirit had moved in and built itself a palace.

All right, slight exaggeration. It might have more to do with traveling in the storm after the frigid hospitality of my favourite politician. Here's to hoping I thaw out soon—Tash won't let me touch him like this.

Mayr stilled, hands clasped in the air. Even when his thoughts trounced every bit of reason, his mind returned to Tash, his constant, his grounding point. The bit of rational thought that was so irrational he felt as if he stood in the eye of the hottest, wildest storm. Wrapped in the safety of the calm, he could watch the turmoil and destruction of the outside world as time crawled by.

And he had promised to throw punches at his one constant, making the effort to challenge him until one of them cried for mercy.

I'll cry it now. Save us both the trouble, Mayr muttered, shoving his hands into the deep pockets of his black leather long coat. Its wet hem dragged along the floor as he shuffled up the hallway to his right. As he passed the empty meeting rooms, he stared at the grey and black stone floor, noting the cracks in the masonry and the unevenness in the spiraled patterns. Absentminded and desperate to hold something, he played with the damp gloves in his pockets, their tight-knit wool exteriors and thick leather interiors black like the rest of his clothes.

A shiver raced through him, roused by fears of what awaited in the training room downstairs. While his job as Head of the Guard was to secure the safety of everyone in the Dahe household and family, there were times he wished he could trade places with someone who did not love the people he did—someone who had no qualms with fighting with them for their own good, teaching them defensive strikes and offensive strategy. Although Pellon was a trustworthy second-in-command and close friend who would happily take Mayr's place in training, the responsibility was too heavy to shrug off. Love was even heavier.

I have to put them into the position to get hurt so they can be protected. That's the saddest, most backwards catch I've ever heard. Who came up with that bright idea? He stopped halfway through the corridor to peer out the windows looking onto the courtyard. Frost clouded the edges of the red windowpanes, framing the blustery, sunlit image of snow and harsh wind with a crystalline glint. The naked, heavy branches of the red trees swayed, staking claim as the only sign of life in the yard. Every few moments, the broken end of one branch tapped the windows in an erratic rhythm. The storm was surprisingly violent for the first snowfall of the year.

Grateful to have arrived home before the worst of it, Mayr flicked his glance to the seat below the windows. Set against the wall and built to accommodate two people, the dark red seat was cushioned with bright green and deep purple pillows. Someone had draped a grey and green quilt across one corner and a brown wool blanket across the other. The sight was tempting, inviting him to sit and think about something else other than Tash or meetings.

No time to sit. Day's too long to even think about it. He pulled the tangled tail of his black hair over his shoulder and dragged his fingers through, yanking on the tats. Dignitaries from three villages in the south would arrive before nightfall for dinner with Aeley and a discussion about commerce, meaning he would have to look polished. That required more than a simple brush and change of clothes. Maybe he could entice Tash into a bath after they trained…

Mayr scrunched his nose. He enjoyed the sweat and heat of training, but the thought of harming Tash knotted his stomach. Since his adolescence, he had enjoyed the physicality of sparring, appreciating its challenges and the way it worked off emotions.

This was different. His desire salivated at the chance to try it with Tash. He wanted to watch Tash go through the motions, to taste the power and strength in Tash and sense the danger. To be at Tash's mercy in the ring the same as he was when Tash made love to him.

None of it chased his anxiety away. Twice before, he had found Tash bruised and battered. Just as many times, Tash had almost died in front of him. Even though Tash was neither fragile nor incapable, a too-hard grip or wayward hit could ruin his life.

Still, he wanted Tash to prove his skills and show his harder side. He had missed seeing that roughness when they were in Araveena Ford, fighting to save Ress from being killed by the Shar-denn.

It was that same side of Tash that forced Mayr to work harder to protect Tash from himself. While he had not witnessed Tash deal blows during the confrontation, he was familiar with the consequences, having seethed over Tash's injuries for days. Dark bruises had marred Tash's skin for two weeks, and his knuckles had bled from scrapes and cuts. If Tash had not slept alone at the temple instead of the estate, Mayr would have raged over the wounds worse than he had.

Which is why we're training, my sappy, smitten self. This whole thing with Ress and Adren and keeping their asses alive is all the reason I need. It's the joy of contradiction wrapped up in the pretty trappings of love. Mayr sighed, drawing both hands down his face. The events in Araveena Ford were more of a turning point than he could admit to anyone. Although he had gone to the village on Tash's request, unable to refuse Tash's plea to help Ress, he returned with more than criminals and a reason for the High Council to punish him. Regret haunted him, its ghost screeching obscenities between his thoughts. He could have lost Tash that night. A punch to the head, a knife to the throat, a broken neck—one wrong move could have torn them apart. Given Tash's stubbornness and near-limitless sense of duty, violence and death could still separate them.

The fight was not all that bothered him. Since then, his head had been a mess and his heart even messier. Everything inside was rattled, his decisions pulled in all directions. His wants and hopes and needs knotted together until they were indistinguishable. Instinct demanded he do everything to make Tash happy, no matter the cost. No matter what had to be surrendered.

Yet fear commanded he do nothing at all. Fear that he would hurt Tash, breaking him in ways Mayr swore he never would. Fear of being hurt by Tash, his heart smashed by the one lover who took Mayr for who he was.

Fear that everything they wanted would never be.

Metal clinked, ripping Mayr from his worry. He peered up the corridor to the hallway at the end, first skimming the stairwell in the right corner, then the rest of the hall to the left. Squeaky footfalls sounded, followed by quiet whistling. Both became distant as someone walked the north hall, away from where Mayr was in the east hall.

Nothing like the sound of someone on patrol, Mayr mused with a smirk. In the last day, he had doubled patrols and swapped schedules, pairing specific guards in teams and moving others to new locations and times. The changes were necessary, since Ress now lived at the estate along with Adren, who had also become Tash's charge due to cir magic and special lineage. Like Tash, both Ress and Adren had worked for the gang most of their lives. They knew too much, making them too valuable to lose. Given the Shar-denn's temper and their promise to kill members who defected, Mayr had increased security around them and the estate in hopes it kept the gang away. The Shar-denn would never take Tash again or anyone he loved—a promise Mayr would die to keep.

Mayr's lingering headache flared. Palms pressed to his temples, he squeezed his eyes shut against the list of things to do by day's end. He needed to amend the roster of guards. The recent changes were not good enough.

One of those days, is it? a voice asked from behind him, the feminine tone edged with amusement. Maybe I'll go find you something that doesn't taste like rotten eggs to chase the feeling away.

An effortless smile spread across Mayr's lips. Depends, he said, turning towards Lira Dahe. His glance flitted over her white shawl and rich mauve gown, its subtle red tinge visible where the dim sunlight hit. If Cook's made some of those mincemeat tarts she was threatening to throw at me, the day might just clear up fine. He winked at her. Keep me well fed, don't forget my sweet tooth, and I'll be the happiest fool walking.

I'm sure—walking yourself straight into death by food. Lira clasped a brown leather-bound book to her chest and shook her head. Strands of her dark brown hair slipped from the jeweled combs keeping the loose curls out of her face. "I'd say someone should starve you, but I'm sure a certain priest would disagree. I suppose you're his sweet tooth?"

"Maybe. Tash does like to—"

Lira raised her hand. The layered mauve cuffs of her heavy gown fell back, exposing pale tan skin. As usual, black ink stained her fingers. Wait, don't answer. I hear enough from your room when he's home.

Home. The word twisted Mayr's gut and stabbed his lacking resolve. It sounded normal coming from her, as though Tash lived with them instead of splitting his time between the estate and the temple at the edge of the village. One day, maybe Tash would consider the estate home. Maybe he would consider Mayr's bed his own and agree to live together permanently. Assuming I ever find the courage to ask him.

Mayr stared at Lira, wanting to tell her everything. If only he could say the words. Aeley hated when he kept his thoughts to himself, and Lira was no more tolerant. While Aeley had every reason to berate him, having known him since they were eleven years old, Lira was a new friend with equal sway on his decisions. Lira had earned his trust after she married Aeley and supported her during the rough start of Aeley's term as Tract Steward. They were his sisters by choice rather than by blood, and he served them the best he could.

Still, he could not tell her what weighed on him when he should have been worrying about that night's dinner plans.

Good to know we have an audience. Mayr swallowed the bile of his cowardice and grinned. I'll make sure we scream extra loud tonight. Have to keep our admirers happy.

Lips pursed, Lira cast him a skeptical glance. "Entertained, maybe. Maybe." She stepped past him and sank onto the window seat. As she fussed with her gown and shawl, the multiple skirts beneath her dress peeked out from under the hem, each layer a different shade of mauve. Born to the Derossa family, one of the influential Grand Families in Kattal, Lira's prim appearance marked her as a member of the higher caste. She always looked proper, always played her part, even if only in presentation. Unlike the rest of the Derossas, she was disinterested in power and wealth. Content to work as Aeley's scribe, Lira asked for little.

Meanwhile, Aeley gave her everything. Despite the challenges Aeley's position threw at them, their marriage did not suffer. They worked together, often deriving solutions to fix Gailarin's problems through their unified partnership. Gailarin had thrived under the control of Aeley's father, Korre, the previous Tract Steward. Since his death, the region continued to prosper under Aeley's governance. With time and encouragement, Aeley was becoming the leader Mayr had always expected her to be. She stood strong for the nation of Kattal, no matter what.

And I'll be here as long as she is.

He never wanted to be anywhere else. His place was with Aeley, protecting her and those she guarded. A piece of him had always known his family's farm would never be his life's work. Just as his heart belonged to matters of defence, he would die with a weapon in his hand and fight in his spirit.

Let the Shar suck on that. If they want Tash, Ress, or Adren, they'll have to work for it so hard their ancestors will cry for mercy.

You've got that face on, Lira said softly, laying her book on the pillow beside her. She drew the grey quilt around her shoulders and curled up on the cushions. Was the meeting with Severn that bad? Or was it the prison? Did Adren's family say anything useful?

Mayr snorted. I don't think nasty names and 'get out of my face' counts as useful.

So nothing about what the Shar-denn will do now, I take it?

No, things about them were brought up in our meetings, just not what we expected. Mayr sighed, long and deep, then crossed his arms and rolled his shoulders to stretch his back. "It's been a long couple of days, that's all. More than a couple, considering the Feast of Taleyra was a few days ago. I still haven't recovered from that whole thing. Dancing diplomats, whimsical worshippers, merry musicians—too much happy for the first day of winter. Not to mention someone was sick all over my favourite staircase twice. I had to clean it. He stuck out his tongue. I'm only thirty-one, Li. I'm too young to feel this bloody old. Tell me I'm not going grey already," he whined with a pitiful whimper, grappling at his hair.

Lira laughed, the light sound echoing in the hallway. Better you than me. At least you'll look dashing. I'll just look a mess.

"Yeah, but you'll be a pretty mess. Pretty beats dashing."

Says…?

Aeley.

Ah. Guess that's settled.

Hey, not my rules. Mayr raised both hands. I say what I know and do what I'm told.

Like make Councilman Severn so angry she wants your head for a mantelpiece?

Mayr's lips formed a silent oh. His relationship with Severn, the councilman in charge of Kattal's public safety, had not improved since Ress and Adren's liberation from the Shar-denn. The tone he took at Ress and Adren's first hearing had yet to be forgotten, especially by Severn. She had requested that Aeley formerly reprimand him in front of the entire Dahe guard and the High Council—a request Aeley had denied.

About that… Mayr scratched the back of his neck, cold nails digging lightly into the black tattoos around his neck. I may have apologized again today. Severn may or may not have heard it. At least she let me into her office this time. I was even served water. In a goblet. That was clean.

Well, there's progress. Lira tilted her head. Seriously, are you all right? Do we have to be worried?

Not about that, Mayr answered quietly. Arms folded, he leaned against the wall. I'm just being difficult for the sake of being a pain. I blame the weather. He nodded at the windows. It was clear when we left for the prison before dawn. Then this mess started around noon on our way home from High Council Hall. Don't know if this'll change our dinner plans, but Ae's more concerned about getting the paperwork done—something about villages in the east needing to sort costs for rebuilding.

And?

"And maybe I'm still getting used to our new arrivals."

Ress and Adren?

I know we moved them in yesterday, but it'll take me time to get used to it. Mayr stepped closer to Lira, his voice lowered as he leaned forward, leaving little space between them. "It was one thing when they lived at the temple, but now… It feels like I have to be everywhere at once, doing my job four times over. I know they're safer here, but it makes me anxious, and I can't tell him, he whispered. I can't tell Tash how on edge I am. It'll break his heart if we don't keep them safe. He loves Ress like a brother."

I know. I have my reservations, too. Lira caressed his shaven cheek. We'll get through it. In this house, we keep stubbornness and hope in abundance. How about you tell me how the meetings went? I'll let you rant about Severn and frustrating prisoners if it makes you feel better.

Mayr chuckled as he pulled away. Tempting. He shrugged. The meeting with the prison warden was a friendly chat over breakfast. The meeting with Adren's father and mother was grimy but not productive. They're set on taking the Shar's secrets to their deaths. The meeting with Adren's brothers—that was lively, but they didn't say one thing we could use. No names, no directions, no locations. Nothing.

So if they aren't talking to Council or to you and Aeley, what happens to them?

Their trials continue and Council will likely vote to execute them for treason, slavery, murder, and every possible crime there is against Kattal. I don’t know what else they'll do, other than send in Adren to ask questions.

Throw Adren into a cell with the family ce's betrayed and watch them tear cir apart? Lira scowled and crossed her arms. That sounds damaging. Adren's already having enough trouble getting over abandoning cir family. I don't think that's going to be helpful.

It could be. If they're enraged enough, they'll slip. If they drop the name of even one gang member, I'll take it. We need to round up these vile chunks of filth. They can't keep hurting people, stealing stuff, and breaking laws. Mayr scraped his boot heel across the floor and frowned at the wet streak it left. We might as well do it now while the gang's gone quiet.

'Gone quiet'? So Aeley's observations were right?

There's the interesting part. Mayr let out a loud breath, frustrated as he played with his gloves. The news should have made him happy, not spun his suspicions around a spool of doubt. "Ae's not the only one who's noticed a lull in the Shar's activity. Severn said she's noticed crime rates have gone down since we saved Ress and Adren, not up like we expected. Rathen and Kirra said they and the rest of the bounty hunters are seeing the same thing. They aren't bringing in so many criminals, and citizens aren't reporting as many incidents. It's just… quiet."

"That's great news. Lira smiled, though her glance questioned him. Wouldn't it mean that everything the Council's done is working? That all the information Tash, Ress, and Adren gave them is doing what it should and the hunters are good at their job?"

Maybe.

Maybe?

It's hard to tell.

Apparently it's just as difficult to smile about it.

I'd smile if I weren't so confused. Mayr drew his fingers over one of the knives on the belt around his waist, comforted by the feel of a weapon. It was bad enough he had forgotten his sword and cloak in Aeley's study. "It's been three weeks since Ress and Adren defected. We should've seen retaliation by now—riots and raids, death threats, ransoms. Something. He squeezed the hilt of his knife. The child of a faction boss doesn't run off without someone coming for them. By all rights, Adren and Ress should be dead."

So this means what?

I don't know. I thought maybe Aeley was only seeing things in the numbers, but maybe the gang's taking a break. Or maybe we really have scared them. Maybe it's because Adren's family isn't in charge of their faction anymore—I don't know.

Somewhere in there is a 'but.'

Mayr twisted his lips. She knew him too well. "It'll pick up again soon. This break won't last. Maybe there's no reason—maybe things are just off. I'm still stuck on why they haven't attacked Araveena. They love intimidating the village, or so Ress says."

You sent half a dozen of our guards to Araveena, and Severn is rotating them with republic soldiers, Lira said, one of her dark brows arched. "You told them to protect Tash and Ress's families and be visible. I'd think that has something to do with it."

"I didn't expect it to work this well," Mayr mumbled. He had expected a backlash similar to those Ress witnessed after Tash left the Shar-denn: assaulted citizens, threats sent to Araveena Ford's magistrate, and any manner of revenge. Yet no one had been harmed. Was it the increased presence of soldiers, or had the Shar-denn decided attacking the village was useless? He prayed it was the latter.

Lira crooked her finger, beckoning him to her. I'm not good at this business, she said as he leaned down to look her in the eye, "so maybe your instincts are right. What I do know is you can't live today if you're paralyzed by tomorrow. She tapped the tip of his nose. We're alive, all of us, and a delightful priest is waiting for you downstairs. Deal with the Shar-denn later. For now, take the good you have and find peace. You need it."

As Lira drew away, Mayr nodded. Despite his doubts, he heard her, and for all of his stubbornness, he could not disagree. Tash's safety could not wait, nor could Mayr's need to calm the turmoil inside. Changes were coming—and maybe the changes started with them.

* ~ * ~ *

Mayr stuck to the doorframe as though his bones were nailed to the wood. He leaned harder against the frame, his folded arms tightening the longer he watched the scene before him.

In the centre of the bright, lantern-lit training room, Tash moved steadily through a series of stances and restrained strikes. His breaths were as even and controlled as the gentle glide of his arms and slow steps away from the door. Focused on the furthest wall, Tash remained inside the small white circle painted on the floor, the smallest ring inside the set of six concentric white, yellow, and red rings used for training. Barefoot and stripped to the waist, Tash wore only skin-coloured bracers and the loose, dark red pants of his religious vestments. The fabric was the brightest, most delicate thing in the room compared to the grey stone walls, the dull sets of metal and leather armour on upright wooden forms, and the metallic gleam of the weapons on the racks hanging on each wall.

Nothing compared to how beautiful Tash looked lost in the concentration of a warrior's meditation. Sections of his wavy hair were pulled back, the shoulder-length brown locks and blond streaks tied with a coiled and knotted black ribbon, a hand's length of which was left trailing. Not as brawny as Mayr, Tash's light tan skin strained while his muscles worked. The tattoo of a bird spanned his entire back, wings outstretched over his broad shoulders. The twisted body followed his spine and its outspread talons appeared to dig into his lower back. A crown of feathers cascaded across his right shoulder blade, as elegant as the tail that meandered around both of his hips. Meticulously detailed and shaded with black ink, the feathers appeared real.

Mayr needed little creativity to imagine how Tash used to look as a guard for a gang boss. With even less effort, he could guess at what sparring might do to Tash's physique now.

Not that I haven't nipped and licked and sucked every bit of him. Recalling the sensation of Tash's stomach tightening under his tongue, Mayr bit back a groan. After the talk with Lira, he had dragged himself downstairs and forced himself into a professional mindset.

One glimpse of Tash made keeping that mindset impossible. Goddesses know I could take him right now. One touch, one kiss—

Mayr shuffled his feet and peered into the dimly lit hallway, wishing that alone could alleviate the twisting in his groin. There was a time for play, but this was duty and a chance to put his love to work. It was not enough to profess his feelings; he needed to show them. He wanted to make the last year and a half with Tash mean more than passing time and trading affection. While he treasured those moments, he yearned to give everything and hold back nothing. If anything, he wanted them to give up their solitary paths and build a life together.

Except I had that kind of life with Betta and it completely fell apart. I didn't even know what was going on. If it happens again, it'll be so much worse. If he leaves…

They could lose everything.

How is settling for having nothing any better? It's not fair to Tash when all he's done is give a damn. Disgusted, Mayr pushed off the doorframe and entered the room.

Mind if I join? I hear it's more exciting with two people. Mayr crossed the room to the four chairs lined up at the end of the wall to his left. A pile of red robes lay over the back of one of the chairs. On the chair beside it was Tash's veil, the glimmering red fabric carefully arranged to avoid touching the floor.

Tash spun around and grinned as he lowered his arms. You finally got tired of watching. I was wondering what I'd have to do to entice you.

You've done more than enough, thanks, Mayr muttered. He shrugged off his long coat and tossed it over one of the empty chairs. I already need a cold bath.

Pitching you into the snow naked should be sufficient.

Tempted by a dozen inappropriate answers, Mayr expected his mouth to ramble off words that sounded smart.

He stared at Tash instead, every coherent word lost. Bright blue eyes gazed back, intense and breathtaking. Mayr's fingers twitched, driven by his yearning to caress the curves of Tash's face. His skin screamed to feel Tash's lips, to be teased by his close-cropped beard. He wanted to feel Tash in all the right ways. For a moment, maybe two. Just three measly moments—

You need to continue undressing, Tash said softly. If we don't do this now, you won't want to later.

How's that so bad? Mayr unbuckled both of his belts. He slung the belt with four knives over the back of a chair, followed by his second, unarmed belt. With slow fingers, he unlaced his thick vest and stripped it off, then discarded it over the last chair. Just as slowly, he removed his long-sleeved tunic and dropped it on top of the vest. We could just say we did it, right?

Mayr.

In playful retribution for Tash's not-so-playful scolding tone, Mayr stuck out his tongue.

Tash smirked. Don't put it out if you're not putting it to use. I might just take this body home.

Mayr shrank back with a scowl. Stop spending time with Aeley. You're starting to sound like her. To the sound of Tash's throaty laugh, Mayr yanked his lightweight shirt over his head and threw it down, adding to the pile of black fabric. Cool air danced over his naked chest, raising small bumps along his arms to his bracers. Shivers rushed through him as he unlaced his black, shin-high boots without withdrawing the knives from the sheaths sewn inside. Yeah, sure, laugh, he said, pulling off one boot and stocking. Next thing you know, you'll be moving in and going around like you own the place.

He froze, his bare foot in the air, the boot clenched in his hand. That was not what he had meant to say.

Maybe one day I will, Tash murmured as he turned away.

Good job, self. Mayr dropped his boot and jerked off the other,