The Balance of Silence (15 page)

Suddenly too overwhelmingly tired to argue, Riv slid back under the blankets as Ducks held them up.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Just make sure that you don’t.”

Whatever reply Ducks made was lost as sleep rolled over Riv in a tumbling wave.

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77

The smell of coffee was probably the only thing with the power to pull him up from the deep, and Riv yawned hugely before he managed to pry his eyes open. “I hope that’s for me,” he said, voice still hoarse with sleep.

“I might be convinced to share.” Ducks raised an eyebrow as he finished stirring, setting the spoon on the table next to the bed. “What’s it worth to you?”

“Name your price, nothing’s too high.” Riv’s stomach growled loudly, and they both laughed.

“Right, so food too. Luckily I came prepared.” Ducks busied himself with the tray before dropping into the chair with a grin. “I suppose I should admit that Del fixed everything. I just got to be the waiter.”

Riv rolled over enough to stare suspiciously at the bowl on the tray. “It’s not that healthy crap she’s always feeding Bin, is it? Because I will protest.”

“It smells good to me.” Ducks leaned over to sniff it again. “Oatmeal?”

“With butter and sugar?” Riv asked hopefully.

“Looks that way.” He moved the tray closer to the bunk before helping Riv sit up, several pillows tucked solicitously behind him.

Riv was halfway through the bowl before he looked up guiltily. “Uh, did you want some?”

Ducks laughed, and Riv found himself thinking again how much he loved that sound, and how well it fit the man sitting next to him. “No, that’s okay, I already ate. Some of that healthy crap that Del feeds Bin.”

He scraped out the last of the oatmeal, paying particular attention to the pool of sugar left at the bottom. “You, um, haven’t told me how you got your voice back.”

Ducks took the bowl, setting it on the table before leaning back in the chair. “It was the stupidest thing in the world. I was watching the news feed one night, and they were running a story about Maltana and the trouble the courts are having with sorting everything out. They started talking about a field marshal who was inciting riots in the outlying provinces, and using them as an excuse to… He was killing entire
towns
full of innocent people. They said they couldn’t find any witnesses who were willing to testify to his crimes, and then they showed his face, and I stood up in the middle of the rec room and swore at the vid screen.”

Riv tried to imagine it, fighting back laughter that wasn’t entirely appropriate, and would hurt like a bitch besides. “So your first words after all that time were…”

The Balance of Silence

“Motherfucking son of a bitch, if I recall.” Dryly stated, and suddenly Riv couldn’t help but giggle, a hoarse croak that he still tried to repress, despite the grin he was getting from Ducks.

“I knew him. He’d slaughtered half the people in the villages surrounding my med station.” He turned a little more serious, smile falling away, and he wouldn’t meet Riv’s eyes. “MedAid has a policy of non-collusion for a reason, and I…I broke it. I couldn’t be there, in the middle of all those people being killed for no damn reason, and not try to help them. I was passing information back and forth between the rebel camps. It was easy enough—just have someone come in as a patient, give me the info, and pass it along to the next person down the line. Someone must have told them I was doing it though, because they came for me in the middle of the night. Burned down my fucking clinic.”

The voice Riv still wasn’t used to had grown thick, and he stretched out a hand, ignoring the pain the movement caused him. Ducks caught it, giving it a small squeeze, but he was no less upset when he spoke again. “They killed my clinic aides, lined them up and made me watch while they shot them, and then they tortured me in front of as many of the locals as they could round up.”

He wiped his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know exactly how it happened, now. I still had the names and descriptions of the rebels, knew where half their camps were, how they were getting supplies, and I can remember thinking that no matter what, I wouldn’t give them that. I’d stay silent.”

Giving Riv a wry smile, he rubbed his hand over the back of his head. “Turns out I was more stubborn than I ever knew.”

“I’m somehow not surprised,” Riv told him mildly, when he couldn’t find the words to say that he was sorry, that he understood, that he probably would have done the same.

“I testified last month, and once I did, with the perceived authority of MedAid behind me, there were others who felt safe enough to come forward.” He gave Riv’s hand a last squeeze, letting it go as he got to his feet. “MedAid officially released me from service two days later, and I didn’t know what to do, until I finally worked up the guts to send you a message and I got Del instead.”

“Lucky you. She must have been in a fine temper by then,” Riv said with a snicker. “Should I be worried? You both think I’m an idiot, and she’s got those breasts you told me you’re so fond of…”

Pryce looked at him, the picture of consternation, finally rolling his eyes, turning his head to hide a grin. “Those are compelling points, but oddly enough, it’s you I’m in love with, dumbass.”

If there was a way Riv had imagined hearing it, he could honestly say that wasn’t it, and yet those were still some of the sweetest words he’d ever had spoken to him. He tried not to injure himself too much in his sudden struggle to be upwardly mobile, and he managed to get out of his bed, clinging to the wall to stay upright before Ducks jumped to grab him. He was pleased that he hadn’t been swaying too much.

“What the hell—” It was all he got out before Riv yanked him down for a kiss, sloppy and demanding more than he could possibly deal with right now.

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S. Reesa Herberth and Michelle Moore

Ducks kissed him back, an arm around his waist to hold him up, and his other hand cupping his head and carding through his hair. “Idiot,” he whispered against Riv’s lips, but it was too fond to hold any sting.

“For the love of all that’s holy, would you stop trying to damage yourself?”

“Only if you promise to keep saying it.” Riv laughed, sagging down to the mattress again as Ducks helped him sit.

Pryce raised an eyebrow, and the familiar, quirking smile returned. Without words, Riv would always know that smile.

“Idiot,” Ducks whispered into Riv’s ear, and he went down without a fight when Riv pulled him into bed.

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About the Author

S. Reesa Herberth grew up in Hawaii, and after a few misguided years spent in the Arizona desert, knew that she wanted to live in a place where water occasionally fell from the sky and they had those tall things with leaves. She has called the area around Washington, D.C., her home for the past ten years. When she isn’t dreaming up ways to get back to Paris, she spends more time than is probably healthy playing with wool in various post-sheep stages and cluttering up her house with spinning wheels and books. She is one half of the writing team behind Shea Meier and is nearly two-thirds awake by the time she gets to her day job in the morning.

Visit her blog at
http://sreesaherberth.dreamwidth.org/

or Shea Meier’s website at

www.sheameier.com.

Michelle Moore is a fourth-generation Washington, D.C. native, somewhat of a rarity in this day and age. She has a well-documented obsession with travel, television, frappaccinos and flamingoes. All of these, however, come in a distant second to her love of writing. When not at her day job of shaping the future, she can either be found huddled over her laptop doing the aforementioned writing or else serving the needs of the household menagerie that currently includes four cats (one with Cerebellar Hypoplasia), seven chinchillas, a bird, and a geriatric guinea pig.

She can be found online at
http://michellesmoore.livejournal.com/
or email her at

[email protected].

The weakness he fears could be his lover’s only hope.

Shenandoah

© 2010 Ally Blue

Mother Earth, Book 2

Bear has never regretted leaving his old life behind for his exotically beautiful lover, Dragon.

Following his heart, though, has left them in need of a home. There’s only one place he can think of where they can be together and be happy. Shenandoah. A place of myth—until he encounters signs that it’s a real place that lies somewhere to the north.

Dragon doesn’t share his lover’s faith that it even exists, much less that it will live up to Bear’s high expectations. Yet they are Brothers now, bound by love and so much more. No hardship will keep Dragon from Bear’s side. Even if it means nothing but disappointment waits at the end of their journey.

Danger lurks in the wilderness, the ruined cities of the lost Old World, and especially within themselves. As Bear’s quest for a new home becomes a spirit journey of mystical power, Dragon doubts his own strength—an unbearable shame he tries to hide deep within. But when a chance encounter turns into a fight for survival, Bear’s life depends on Dragon’s ability to put his doubts aside…and dare to hope.

Warning: This book contains knife fights, cannibals, mysterious ruins, and dirty sex between warrior
men.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Shenandoah:

They pushed north for three more days before infection began to set in. By the time they stopped to camp on the fourth night, after a day of slow and difficult travel, Bear ached all over with fever.

He clutched one of the wool blankets around his shoulders and tried to lie still while Dragon cleaned his wound. Even the gentlest touch hurt with a deep, sickening pain.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” He knew the answer already, by Dragon’s muttered curse when he’d first unwound the dressing, but he had to ask.

Dragon was silent for a moment, patting the skin dry and laying a fresh poultice over the wound. “It’s swollen and red,” he answered finally. “And it’s obviously infected all around the outside. The good news is, the infection doesn’t seem to run too deep.” He ran his hand down the underside of Bear’s knee in a brief caress. “It’s bad. But it’s not as bad as it could be.”

“Well, that’s good. I guess.” Bear gritted his teeth and lifted his leg so Dragon could pull the old wrapping out from under him and slide the new ones beneath him. Dragon hadn’t said so, but Bear knew

they were about to run out of clean cloth. Soon, Dragon would have to start reusing the old ones. He’d been washing and saving them since day one. “I wonder how much farther Shenandoah is?”

Dragon’s movements faltered, and Bear hid a grim smile in his folded arms. He wouldn’t be able to walk much farther. If they didn’t find Shenandoah soon, he’d die out here. He knew it, and he knew Dragon did as well.

After he finished with Bear’s dressing, Dragon rose, gathered the used dressings into the rabbit-skin bag he’d made for the purpose, then went to the fire. “I’ll make you another cup of tea.”

“It’s okay. One’s enough.” Bear wasn’t sure about that, not tonight. His leg hurt so badly he didn’t think anything would help. But to be fair, the tea he’d had before Dragon started on the dressing hadn’t had time to work properly yet. And who knew how long the herbs they’d brought with them would need to last?

There weren’t that many willows of the type they needed growing in these woods, so they hadn’t been able to find much more bark since they left Lexin.

Dragon just shook his head and prepared another mug. He stirred in a generous portion from their precious stash of honey, then handed the mug to Bear. “Drink it. I still have chamomile and sage, and there’s plenty growing wild around here. I can use that.”

Bear obediently gulped the tea, trying not to grimace at the bitterness cutting through the sweetness of the honey. It might taste awful, but it eased his pain enough to let him sleep, which was more than any of the sweeter herbs could manage.

A few minutes later Dragon returned to the blanket with an earthenware pot full of the rabbit stew that had been simmering while he changed Bear’s dressing. “Can you sit up? You need to eat.”

“Yeah. Give me a second.”

Setting the empty mug down, Bear rolled onto his side. He pushed into a sitting position, his good leg curled close to his body and his injured one stretched out in front of him. His head swam, but he dug his fingers into the ground at his side and forced himself to remain upright.

When he thought he could move without falling over, he handed Dragon the empty mug. Dragon dipped it in the pot to fill it and handed it back without comment, but the sharp gray eyes missed nothing.

He leaned over the pot and scooped stew into his mouth with a clean, flat piece of wood, watching Bear the whole time.

He reached for Bear’s mug after he’d drained the last of the broth from the bottom. “Here, I’ll get you some more.”

Bear shook his head. “No.”

Dragon’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve had my fill, and there’s still some left. And you need to keep up your strength. So if you’re just saying that because—”

“I’m not. I promise.” Bear hunched his shoulders beneath the blanket still draped over him. Mother, he was cold. “My stomach’s kind of unsettled. I’m afraid if I eat too much I’ll be sick, and we can’t afford for me to lose anything I’ve eaten. I’m already weak, and we don’t know how far we still have to go.”

The suspicion melted from Dragon’s eyes. Setting Bear’s mug beside the pot, he rose onto his knees and moved close enough to press his body against Bear’s side. He wound both arms around Bear’s shoulders and laid his cool cheek against Bear’s hot one. Bear turned his head to nuzzle behind Dragon’s ear, breathing in the scents of sweat, wood smoke and herbs. It smelled like comfort and safety. Like home.

Bear hoped he survived long enough to make a
real
home with Dragon.

Don’t think that way. You’ll make it. You have to.