The summer night was as dark as Borias' mood. Except for the brief flicker of lighting along the rolling clouds, the only light was the two torches on either end of the mill's porch. The pool of yellowed light gave him no hope as he sat on the bench and stared out into the darkness.

The others were at the Blood County Fair and the mill was dark. For the second time since Bass bought the mill, they would not be selling bitches. Borias had no reason to join the others and risk his own death by accidentally seeing another. Instead, he spent his nights on the porch, looking past the fields, and toward the stain of black in the distance.

He wondered if anything grew where Merrie died. No one was sure anymore. From the front porch, he could see the black stain on the ground, but when he went to investigate it, he found himself wandering other parts of the mill grounds. It was a repulsion spell, one of the strongest he had ever experienced, and it resisted everyone's attempt to return to the place where she died.

Borias sighed and turned the mug in his hand. It was his best lager, but over the last few hours, it had warmed and flattened until it was nothing but swill. He couldn't pour it out but neither could he drink it. It was just there, like everything else left in his life.

In the sky, lighting crackled along the clouds and he watched the world flare to life before sinking back into pitch. A few seconds later, a rumble rolled over him and he closed his eyes to experience the vibrations in his chest. When he opened his eyes, the world remained a dark and dreary place.

For the seventh time that night, he told himself to do something but the dark thoughts kept him pinned to the bench. He groaned and leaned against the side of the bench. At his side, Sable's stake flashed in the light flickering along the clouds. He smiled and reached down. Stroking the wood, he imagined a helpless Sable pawing at the door, begging to get in even as Tabitha stormed toward her.

Merrie was so young and innocent when she first showed up. Wide eyed and terrified, but also fascinated. The new girls were always scared, rightfully so since they were all kidnapped before their fate. But, he had never seen any of them that pushed up their breasts and parted their lips the way she did. She begged for attention without realizing her actions. She was perfect, but now she was gone forever.

“Be fucking this,” he muttered and set down his mug. He jammed his fingernails into his palms until he could force himself to stand up. His boots thudded against the boards of the porch as he made his way to the stairs and down the creaking steps.

Another flash of lighting and a roll of thunder punctuated his footstep as he reached the bottom. He walked across the yard before turning just outside the fence. He knew the route by heart, everyone at the mill did, but he still moved slowly and quietly along the well-worn path. He wasn't sure if it was respect for the dead or the realization that he was very alone in the middle of a dying mill.

Even though the last three markers filled the tiny cemetery, Bass made no effort to expand it. Borias wondered if he was going to close up the doors. He was already planning on tearing apart Kessler's lands as soon as they were given to him.

Kessler died only a month ago, his body rotted away by cancer. His children were already circling around the corpse, making claims on one of the most profitable slavery farms in the county. But, Kessler's will gave everything to Bass, including his title. There were arguments and threats of fighting. Everyone was bringing a personal army to the fair that year and there were no doubts that at least someone would end up dead.

It was safer for Borias to remain home. He trailed his fingers along the closest of the new markers.

“Fang Mills, Loyal Brother, Cherished Friend, and Honored Lover.” The tale of what happened to Fang came from a sullen Eolis over a bitter stout. Haviston, in his brief moment inside Merrie's head, filled in the rest of them. It was Borias who carved the words into the marker with Bass and Sable watching in silence.

A large stone slab filled the corner of the cemetery and only had a single word written on it. “Merrie.” She didn't need anything else, there was no one who would ever forget the joy and sorrow she brought to the mill. She was as close to a goddess as Borias could ever imagine.

He glanced at the third marker, Tamin's, and smiled grimly. Sable had picked the words for that one. “Loyal hound, Dearest Companion, and Merrie's bitch.”

Sinking to the ground, he knelt in front of Merrie's grave. There was no body but it didn't stop them from looking, or remembering. He reached out and pressed both palms against the warm, moist stone.

“I be sorry,” he whispered. “I be failing you.”

The tears threatened to bubble up, a jerking in the back of his throat and a stinging in his eyes. It had been a year, but he still cried when he thought of her. For five years, he tore himself up wishing he could rush to Franome City to be with her and, for only a few brief moments, he saw her in her glory before she was taken away once again.

A sob rose and he stopped fighting it. It tore out of him and he thumped his head against the headstone as the tears began to run down his cheeks. Hot and sticky, they coursed down his chin and soaked into his black shirt.

“I be… I be…” He couldn't finish. He just leaned against the carved rock and sobbed.

Around him, he heard the rustle as the rain finally began to fall. Wet splatters struck his back and head but he didn't move. He felt the rain joining with his tears and, somehow, it let them flow faster.

Borias wished he could have done something. Been a little stronger, been a little faster. If he healed her more, maybe she would have survived. He replayed everything he did a thousand times and nothing made the pain fade away.

He would have died if he remained behind, that much he knew. He wouldn't have been able to save her but he also didn't have the strength to look away. The last thing he would have seen was her pulled into the Shadows, her body torn apart by the claws along with the last of Lemetri's light.

Everyone else lived. Bass and Sable took a few months to heal, Tabitha and Dixie less time physically but longer emotionally. Haviston appeared to be okay, but Borias knew his cousin regretted his own actions as much as Borias punished himself.

The one man, Golid, who should have died also survived. But revenge was taken away from all of them. With the death of his goddess, a thousand promises were broken in an instant and his mind cracked with his promises. His one good eye now remained nothing but a dull gaze, unresponsive. There was some part still alive, but lost in his own consciousness.

Desperate for something, Tabitha finished cropping him. Borias smiled grimly to himself. They put one of his mother's collars around the former paladin's neck and attached the same charms they gave Merrie… right before they tossed his unresponsive body to Fucker.

For a year now, Fucker had been pounding every hole in Golid's body without stopping or slowing. It didn't matter if it was ass, mouth, or eye socket. Fucker would ram his cock to the hilt and Golid would survive.

It was close to revenge any of them would get.

He sobbed and knelt there, sobbing as the rain poured down around him. For the endless time, he considered ending his life. It would only take a single spell, he knew more than a few that would make him die without suffering.

Borias held up his fingers and looked down at them. Energy crackled between his fingers. Runes of power glowed at his fingertips, red energy sparkling between his fingers.

A dull thud stopped him. It was the steady beat of someone walking closer.

Fear and guilt sparkled along his senses. He clamped his hand shut and stared down at his fingers.

The ground shook with the impact. It sounded like a thriban, but neither Bass or Eolis would have come back in the middle of the night.

Gulping, he stood up and started to cast an armor spell.

“Loyal Alestri,” came a metallic female's voice through the rain, “says stop.”

Borias froze, the spell sputtering in his mind. With a whimper, he turned around and looked across the cemetery. A flash of lighting light up the armored figured on the far side of the plot, the emerald plate armor unmistakable and unforgettable. The knight wielded a massive spear that towered at least a meter over her head.

It was a Loyal, the most powerful knights in the Franome Army. It was also the worst person anyone who escaped Abbinkey could ever see. The rain splattered centimeters from her armor, bouncing off an invisible wall of force. Killing spells glowed brightly from the enchanted armor; spells that he had no chance of surviving against.

“Criminal, you are under arrest.” The dispassionate voice sent a shudder through him, the force of her words slamming into his stomach.

A hot stream of urine dribbled down his thighs as he stared at the knight sent to kill him. With a scream he stumbled back, stumbling over Merrie's headstone and falling to the ground.

The Loyal stepped closer, the impact of her feet blasting away the wet ground so her foot slammed into dry ground.

“No!” he screamed. He flipped over and crawled up the fence. As he reached the top, he felt the Loyal's gauntlet snatching his shirt. With frantic energy, he tore the fabric and fell over the other side of the fence before hitting the ground with a hard, wet smack.

“Loyal Alestri orders the criminal to stop!”

A domination spell slammed into him, overwhelming and powerful. His body froze from the order except for his heart which pounded painfully in his chest. He stared at her as she stopped on the other side of the fence.

There was only one punishment for escaping Abbinkey: death. The tears ran down his cheeks as he stared at her, waiting for the killing blow from the massive spear or the thousand spells already prepared to destroy him.

The Loyal reached over the fence, the metal bending when she had to strain. Her gauntlet gripped on his shirt. As her fingers clenched, the tips left deep cuts along his chest.

“Loyal Alestri says come.”

Borias sobbed and then the world ripped out from underneath him. The Loyal's teleportation had no grace or delicacy. It felt like being torn apart, yanked in a thousand places, before everything was collapsed into a single point.

He was still screaming when she released him. The massive spear swung around and he lost control of his bladder again. He flung his arms over his face to protect himself, even knowing that it wouldn't stop the blade, but the killing blow never came.

“You really need to work on her manners,” grumbled Eolis as the thriban walked up.

Sobbing, Borias looked up past his trembling arms at Eolis.

“I try,” said an unfamiliar man, “but it would take a divine intervention to give Alestri compassion.”

“It's okay, Bori, she's not going to kill you.” Eolis held out one large hand.

Still shaking violently, Borias held out his hand.

Eolis took it and pulled him to his feet.

“I… I be peeing myself.” Blushing hotly, Borias looked around.

Wherever they were, it was no longer raining. The air was hot but he could smell a strange ether scent in the air. It was dark and the only light came from a banked fire at one end of Eolis' travel wagon. Zeob tended the flames but made no effort to stoke the flames.

There was another man there, one wearing gloves and carefully tending to a pot of something on the embers. There was another man, but a low powered repulsion spell made it hard to focus. Frowning and trying not to think about humiliating himself, Borias concentrated on the last man until he realized who it was. It was Duke Natis.

He jerked and looked at Eolis. “Eolis? What be going on?” He shivered as the Loyal stepped around him. With a whimper, he leaned forward. “You know I be hiding!” he whispered sharply, “How could you be doing this?”

Eolis chuckled and patted Borias painfully on the shoulder. “Relax. If they wanted you to kill you, you wouldn't haven't seen her coming. Well, you would have, but then you'd be dead.”

Borias whimpered and glanced at the Loyal. The armored woman stopped next to the furthest door of the wagon, where Eolis would place the taxes. She slammed the butt of her spear into the ground and a rumble shook the ground.

“S-She said I be arrested.”

Eolis chuckled and drew Borias into a tight hug. “Loyal Alestri suffers from a lack of compassion. She also spent almost three minutes resisting her orders to bring you here… safely.”

“And,” said the older man by the fire, “unharmed. Don't forget that qualifier.”

The creak of Alestri's gauntlet shot through the camp.

Borias gulped. “Me? Why me?”

Eolis guided Borias toward the door the Loyal was standing next to. “Because, you're the best healer mage in twenty kilometers and we didn't have much time.”

As they walked, Borias felt the tension tightening in his gut. He felt pathetic as he whimpered and stepped closer to Eolis. “Time? Time being for what?”

“You'll see. Loyal?”

The Loyal reached over and opened the door. Borias noticed that she was standing between the opening and the campfire. The stench of death flooded out of the closet, choking and bitter. It had a alcoholic taste to it, a tickle in the back of his throat. It reminded him of something, but he couldn't place it as he stared at the pitch black opening.

Eolis grabbed him by his hips and lifted him up. As soon as Borias' feet set down on the edge, he pulled back. “Whatever you do, don't make light.”

Borias turned, “What—?”

The door slammed shut on him.

He gulped. “What be going on?”

“They are all,” he jumped as someone spoke from in the closet, “a bit scared right now. None of us know what to do.”

With an uneasy chuckle. “I be rather scared too.”

“Can you see in the dark? Not light!”

Borias took a deep breath and cast a night seeing spell. It was one of the spells that he created to watch bitches as they were getting used to their new lives. He also enjoyed seeing the curves of their bodies as they made out… in a different life.

Turning, he looked around. The money boxes were stacked up high on one side of the closet. On the far end, a man sat in the corner of the room with his legs curled up to hold something shifting in his grip.

“I-I be seeing now.”

“Good. I can't and I've been here for almost six hours.” The man chuckled. “My legs are asleep.”

“That be what need healing?”

“No, her.” The man gestured with his chin to his lap.

Borias' heart skipped a beat. “H-Her?” Hope rose inside him. “I… Is that Merrie?”

The tears burned in his eyes as he stared at the shifting body in the man's lap. He could almost see a dark tail peeking out of one side and the peaks of two ears. With a gasp, he stumbled closer. “M-Merrie?”

“I think so,” whispered the man as he stroked the body in his lap. His hand seemed to sink into the shifting body and curls of darkness trailed after his movements. The stench of death and alcohol rose in the air and he realized what it was, it was the smell of Shadows.

Borias threw himself to his knees next to the stranger. “Merrie!?”

He reached out for her, but his fingers only encountered a resistance instead of a solid body. He shivered at the icy field around his fingers. It tore at his senses and he could feeling it drawing his life energy away as the body solidified. He pulled his hand back and watched as the shadows began to dissolve again back into black flames.

Concerned, Borias looked up and focused on the man. He was dying himself as he comforted Merrie. The dark shadow in his lap was drawing his life, but despite not having magic, the man was keeping himself together with sheer will and, what Borias suspected, love.

“You be named?” he whispered.

“Claston,” chuckled the man, “but can you do something for her?”

Borias frowned. He heard the name before. Shaking his head, he held his hands out and over her shifting body. Magic bubbled up around him, mixing in with the icy flames of darkness.

Claston hissed. “Careful, light kills—”

“Shut up,” snapped Borias. He extended his senses and began to craft a healing spell. His magic always created glowing runes, it was part of his power, but only when it was activating. If he could heal everything at once, maybe she could survive the light long enough for it to take hold. He worked the patterns of the spell together, spreading the delicate tendrils of his magic through the shifting body. He could feel the agony and pain underneath his palms, of a woman caught between two worlds.

Tears splashed down on his palm, freezing before they hit the ground. A headache pierced his thoughts, but he strained to focus on keeping the spell together.

“We almost lost her when—”

Borias almost lost control of the spell. He struggled to keep the threads from glowing at the same time he tried to keep the delicate strands of power in place. Claston's words made it hard to concentrate.

“Claston,” grunted Borias, “be shutting the fuck up.”

A strained chuckle but no more words.

Sweat prickled Borias' brow. The world spun around him as he sank the magic into her, trying to keep her shifting body together enough to heal it. She wasn't there, at least not entirely. Most of her body was still Shadows, shifting in and out of physical form. Deep inside, a core of utter darkness kept her pinned in one place. He brushed against it and felt his body withering from even the briefest caress.

Claston said, “She's dying.”

Borias gulped. If she died, he would too. Biting down on his lip, he concentrated and threw everything he could. He wouldn't fail her again, not ever.

The energy crackled around him, tiny motes of power glowing around his body. He could feel how the light was erasing the shadows, but he couldn't create the spell without some light.

“Hurry—”

“Fucking shut up!” Borias screamed as the energy exploded inside him. Runes of yellow-green burst to life, spreading out from his hands. It lit the entire room in a brilliant glow as the runes formed along her skin, creating a shell of a body he remembered so well. The yellow-green runes crawled along her body and the shadows filled the runes and solidified into flesh.

Claston tried to yank her away, but Borias reached back and punched him as hard as he could. The thud of knuckles hitting the man's jaw filled the air.

An explosion filled the room. He saw a flash of a green spear swinging toward him and then the crunch of impact as it caught him from throat to groin. The blow blasted him back through the side of Eolis' wagon and he felt bones cracking as he flew out of the shattering wall and hit the ground meters away.

Rocks scraped against his face before he flipped over, flying back toward sharp rocks he didn't notice before.

Borias slammed into the thick body of Eolis, who jumped back to catch his blow. There was a dizzying flip and then he was on his feet, trembling from the impact and staring at the still falling splinters of the wooden wagon.

“Damn you, Alestri!” It was Claston and he was pissed.

“Loyal Alestri—”

“Silence!” bellowed Claston, a raw Presence drawing everyone's attention toward him. He was crouched over Merrie's body, trying to shield her from even the dim light of the banked fire.

The older man and Zeob gasped. The duke stood up and kicked the soup over the flames, dousing it instantly.

Borias groaned and shook with fear. “Not be dead, not be dead, please?”

He could feel broken bones inside his own body. He threw a quick healing spell on himself. He groaned as the bones settled back into place, patching themselves enough to let him move. He would feel it in the morning, if he lived.

“Borias?” Claston spoke loudly.

“She be living?”

“Come here!”

Borias limped over to the wagon, crawling into it with Eolis' help. He staggered over to the corner where Claston continued to crouch over Merrie.

In the faint light of the dying flame, Borias could see that her body had solidified but the shadows were still barely held together. He had only given her a shell of a body, something to contain the center of darkness that rested inside her and something for the shadows to bind to. He shivered at it, it was like touching death itself.

“Is… is she okay? She not be dead, k?”

Borias groaned as he knelt down, his body screaming in agony from Alestri's attack. He held out his hand and cast his senses inside her, trying to push past the pain and agony of a body healing. He could feel other healing magic beginning to spread out across her body, a powerful regeneration spell coming from somewhere else.

Glancing up, he saw that she had a black collar around her neck that he didn't see before. It was bent with a crystal in one part and fingerprints along the sides. He shivered at the sight of it, only a goddess was powerful enough to bend adamantite like that.

“Borias?” insisted Claston.

Taking a deep breath, Borias cast another spell and tied it into the regeneration, trying to speed up the healing process. It would take a week before she took another breath, but his healing spell gave her enough push to start the process. The collar's regeneration was powerful but whoever created it ensured she would suffer from every agony in the healing process. It would be hell for her and he wished he could do more, but he was sure she was going to live.

“Bori—”

“She be okay, I be thinking. Be bringing a dim light?”

“Light kills her,” whispered Claston. He gripped Merrie's severed arm tighter. “We found her in the shadows by where Tamin died. Well,” he gulped, "I tripped on her when I was trying to find the spot. And then, when I fell, I accidentally shoved branches aside and brought her into the light. It looked like she was screaming, but no noise came out. Her body started to burn away into black smoke, and… and, if it wasn't for Eolis' quick thinking, we would have lost her."

Claston shuddered and wiped his brow. “I don't think she can survive any light. T-That's why we've been keeping her here.”

Borias turned to him. “Then I be dying with her.” His voice came off sharper than he intended. “Light.”

Claston stared at him for a moment, then nodded. “Natis?”

The duke joined them, cupping his hands as a faint light appeared from the cracks of his fingers. He shook as he held it over Merrie, slowly opening his hands to bring light.

Borias held his breath as he watched the light touch Merrie's body.

She was naked as before, with pale skin that looked like it had never seen the light of day. Curls of shadows danced along her curves. The edges of her body began to flare up with black flames.

He held his breath, fighting back a whimper as his insides tensed. If she died, he would join her. The taste of the geas rose up inside the back of his throat, a bitter taste of almonds and metal.

The black flames flared and his heart stopped. But, then they died down into wisps of obsidian that danced along the line of her body. No heat rose from her body, just an icy throb of a winter day and the taste of alcohol.

“Is she…” whispered Claston.

“She—” Borias held his breath when the flames flared again. The flames died down again and he let it out in a long sigh. “She be holding firm.”

He looked over her body, searching for wavering or weakness in his healing spell. The energies holding her body together were strained but magic flowed steadily through invisible webs of power. It kept her shadows from burning away but even the dim light weakened her.

The sight of her pale body caught his attention. Merrie had changed greatly from the tanned bitch sitting on the back stage of the fair auction, touching and caressing everyone bitch as they were sold. In the years since he last saw her, the colors had bleached out her body and hair. It was more than a flash of paleness that he saw in battle. Every color, from the pink of her pussy to the inside of her mouth had lost their hue. She looked like a painting made only of whites, grays, and blacks. Even her hair had been drained of colors, leaving only a translucent white to cascade over her naked breasts.

At first, he thought that her lips still retained color. Leaning forward, he peered down at her and breathed in the scent of ether and woman. The lips had no color but they sparkled with their own light. Trembling, Borias reached over and caressed them, feeling the icy caress of her body. When he pulled his fingers back, his fingertips sparkled with the light. He could feel divine magic in the sparkles, the taint of a dying goddess' blood.

“Borias, I can't feel her heart,” said Claston as he gestured down to her breast. A bright white scar marked where Lemetri had ripped out her heart. The fist-sized mark caught the inner edge of her breasts in a star-shape mark.

Borias pressed his hand against her chest, his hand against the soft mound of her breast and caressed the mark. There was no scar tissue though he could feel the faintest touch of divine magic. He spread his hands along her breast to press her palm tight against her breast.

At first, he didn't feel anything. And then, he felt it.

Beat, beat, beat, silence. A triple beat.

Her heart beat thrice again, the triple thuds tickling his palm.

Merrie's eyes fluttered. Her sparkling lips parted as she drew her legs tight against her chest. Both men stared at her as her eyes briefly opened. It was the movement of someone dazed and confused, unseeing and uncomprehending.

Borias found himself looking into the abyss. Her iris had been leached of more than just color, they were pitch black. He shivered at the sight of it, seeing more than just darkness. He was looking into the depths of another world. The Shadows boiled in her eyes, a black core of liquid abyss. It was beautiful and terrifying. He tried to pull away, but the darkness kept him pinned in place.

Merrie's eyes sagged and closed. With a rush, he was released from her spell. Her eyes opened and he tensed, ready to be ensnared by her gaze, but the thin veneer of normalcy had returned. Her eyes were nothing but black on white.

He let out a troubled sigh. His heart sung that she wasn't burning away in the light, but the darkness inside her frightened him. It didn't feel evil, not that he would know, but Merrie's return came at a cost. One that he never wanted to know.

She settled back in, curling up as her body continued to burn with low, faint flames.

“Be thanking you, me duke. No more light.”

The duke closed his fingers and the room plunged into darkness.

Claston stroked Merrie's shoulder. “Will she live?”

Borias nodded. “I be hoping, but it be taking a long time. She still be dying and that collar be healing her, but it be taking… a month before she can stand bright light and maybe a year before sunlight. Be making one mistake, and we be losing her. But, for now, she be safe.”

Claston let out a gasp of relief. “Thank the gods.”

Sitting back, Borias groaned as injuries and exhaustion bore down on him. “How she be alive? The bitch goddess killed her. She was eaten by the Shadows, right? She be dead.”

The other man brushed his knuckles against her face, pushing her hair over her canine ear. “She always said that Tamin was given a second chance by the Lord of Shadows. Maybe the Lord of Shadows gave her the same?”

“Gods be demanding a price for these things. There is darkness inside her. What if—”

“Does it matter?”

The simple words stopped Borias for a moment.

“Does it matter why she's back? If she did it herself or if the Lord brought her back for some reason.”

Borias shivered at the memory of her eyes.

“It just means I'm going to love her more, every day, just knowing that she might be somewhere else. She may not. Maybe she already paid the price? Maybe she earned it, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is that she's back and I'm going to do what I can to keep it that way.”

Borias leaned back. “Be thankful?”

Claston smiled at him. “What else can we do?” He lifted his gaze to the men standing outside the wagon. "Boz, Zeob? Could you wrap her in a blanket and put her in Eolis' room? Make sure its dark. Boz, watch over her?"

“Yes, sire,” came the deadpanned response. “It would be my honor.”

Borias watched as the two wrapped her tightly in a blanket. He reached out to stroke the curve of Merrie's breast before it was sealed away from even the dim light outside of the wagon. “Don't be dying, k?”

After she was carefully sealed into the other room, Claston sat down next to Borias. “Good job, Borias Kivas.” He patted Borias on the shoulder. “I think it's going to take a week to recover my legs though.”

Borias reached over and sent a burst of healing energy along the man's thighs. The simple spell left runes glowing in the air for a moment before fading.

“Or a few seconds. You know most healers in Franome City can't even do a tenth of what you can do. I also heard that you don't leave scars, that's impressive. You could have made a lot of money in the capital.”

With a grin, Borias nodded. “I be a good healer.”

“You didn't heal that scar on her chest,” Claston said wryly.

“That be a goddess. I not be that good.”

“Eh, she's lucky to have you as a master.”

Borias peeked up at Claston. “Who be you? How you be knowing this?”

Claston turned his head to look at Borias. He was a handsome man, Borias realized, even without the raw presence that hung around him. And he had an easy smile that helped ease Borias' wariness.

For a long moment, they stared at each other.

The other man broke the silence. “Would you accept another geas if I asked?”

Borias' body tightened. “A geas?”

“Yes, a third one. To help me help Merrie.”

“How… how can you be asking that?” He glanced at the Loyal who stood only a few meters away, her body humming as her combat spells activated. He closed his eyes for a moment and then sighed. “I be having a choice?”

“There is always a choice,” Claston said in a soft voice.

“No,” Borias said with another sigh, “the promises we be making must be made. The only thing we be hoping is that we be making good choices and not be getting too wrapped up in them.” He turned to Claston. “I should be knowing who you be?”

“Yeah,” Claston said with a chuckle, “I suspect you should know. But, I think you will give me something honest,” he rubbed his chin, “though punching me was a bit unexpected.”

Borias noticed that the others were watching him. He took a deep breath and felt the sick twisting in his gut. “You be putting geas on me. Just be fast about it.”

Claston blinked. “Really? Why?”

“If Eolis be trusting you, then I be trusting you. And if you be loving Merrie, then you can never be evil. If that be meaning I must be geased again, and it be for her, then I be willing.”

For a long moment, no one said anything.

“Bass,” started Eolis, “will never believe you just said that.”

Borias shrugged. “I be what I be.”

“Yeah, you be,” said Claston, “then I'll make it obvious. Do you swear loyalty to Franome, the crown, and then, for the rest of our days?”

“I never be stopping.”

“Do you swear to protect it with your will, your pride, your power, and your life?” The air around Claston crackled with power.

Borias felt the energy responding to the other geases that bound his soul. It was a sick sensation of being pulled apart and twisted, energy warping on its and grinding him down. He winced as the spells began to blend into each other, adding more restrictions on top of older ones. “Aye.”

The energy solidified into a brilliant tree that spread out above them. The colors were brighter than Borias thought possible, shining everything and reflecting back to form a halo around the Claston.

“Do you swear to keep its secrets until the end of time?”

Clutching his stomach as the pain increased, Borias nodded.

“Do you swear to guard the Royal Family from all harm, inside and out?”

Borias groaned as realization dawned. He stared at the man and the name clicked. “Be fucking me, I just be punching the prince?”

Claston opened his mouth and looked helplessly at the duke for a moment.

“Borias,” said the duke, “answer the question.”

“Oh, I be sorry.” Borias blushed hotly. “Yes, aye, I be swearing.”

“Do you swear to serve until released by the Royal family?”

Borias closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Aye.”

The geas took hold, wrapping around his throat and body and binding him tight. He felt it sealing itself to his soul, a submission that he would never be able to escape. A tear ran down his cheek as he sobbed.

There was never a choice.

Claston took another breath. “Damn, mum makes that look easy.”

Borias gave the prince a long, hard look. “Why?”

Wiping his brow, Claston looked up. “A few reasons, actually. You were willing to die to save Merrie.”

“And…?”

“You know I'm here. It was suppose to be a discrete encounter, like the duke is fond of, to see what Blood County is about. This county is rather important to the country and I want to know why. And, I think having a native to give me the tour,” he winked, “would be wonderful.”

Borias blanched. “I can't be showing you. Me and death not be lovers no more.”

“Well,” Claston reached up and clapped Borias on the shoulder, “I'm still going to forgive you.”

The world exploded into flames and Borias screamed. He felt his bones writhing underneath his skin as something crawled off the hard surfaces and bubbled up. His skin twisted as words appeared along his skin, swimming around before burning away in acidic smoke.

Borias' scream echoed shrilly against the trees, tearing at his throat and sending his heart pounding against his chest. His entire body spasmed twice before he slumped to the ground.

“Good boy.” Claston pushed himself up and swayed. The old man with the gloves rushed up to catch him.

“Why,” Borias whimpered, “you not be warning me?”

Claston smirked and rubbed his jaw. “You punched me. Now we're even.”

Borias stared at the prince for a long moment before Claston offered his hand.

“Come on. You probably need some food after that.”

He took the hand and stood up. “Be sorry for punching you.”

“Eh,” Claston shrugged, “I probably deserved it.” He shot a glare at the older man, Boz. “Shut up.”

Borias' hands were shaking. He looked down and remembered the last time he saw words crawling over his skin. He was standing in a judge and he was just convicted of murder. The geas sealed away his magic, forced him to no longer enjoy the pleasures of flesh and the gasp of lovers dying. “I be pardoned?”

“Yeah, kind of hard to show me how to snuff a spit muffin if you can't participate, can you?”

Borias whimpered, looking back and forth. He caught Eolis' eye who winked back at him. “I can be using magic again?”

“Yeah, but my spy… network couldn't find the mage who put the second geas on you. You'll have to stay away from Franome City for the rest of your life, but at least… you know, you can have this part of your life back.”

Tears burned in his eyes. “Why?”

“I told you. You were willing to die for Merrie. Well, that and she was asking about the Geas of Convicts after she found out what the collar would do, to see if she could let you snuff her. I suspect,” Claston winked and Borias found himself growing harder, “that she wanted you to be the first one.”

He chuckled and shook her head. “A goddess beat you to the punch, but I know a lot about you, Borias Kivas, and I think you'd be a good second for her. She won't be your alpha, but that doesn't mean you can't be one of her masters. And, unlike the others at the mill, she won't have to deal with jealousy with you.”

“I-I not be knowing what to say.” The tears were coming down. He was humiliated that he was crying but the joy and hope burned too brightly. He felt sick and excited and terrified at the same time.

“Think of it as payment. You have a long journey ahead,” the prince gestured to the wagon, “and there is a bitch in there that needs you. And I'm,” a smile, “quite fond of her myself. As are a lot of people. She's all touched us.”

“I can be doing that.”

“And one more thing.”

“Aye?”

“Promise me you'll take care of her?”

Borias looked around to see everyone staring at him. He felt like he was on the edge of something, but the decision was made years ago when he held a frightened girl on the steps as she finally accepted her place in the world. It was a beginning of a new life for both them, but neither knew it at that moment.

He didn't have to worry about the next words because he already was saying them.

“I promise.”