Wings (14 page)

what cruelty they impart.”

Anyar looked up at him, disbelief large in his expression. “I will not be the cause of war,

sir. I am not worth that.”

“You are worth that and more, my boy. The army needs something like this to stir them,

get them ready to attack.”

“But Nazar did nothing during the time we were held captive. Surely if they wanted

war—”

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Tanyan snorted. “They probably were only recouping their military numbers. They will

resume hostilities, and you will see, my boy. They will suffer for what they did to you, especially

the prince.”

“But, sir—”

The commander leaned forward and laid silencing lips over the younger man's, kissing him

thoroughly before reluctantly leaning back.

Anyar looked dazed, and Tanyan smiled and stroked his cheek. “You are my responsibility

now, Anyar. I will take care of you. You will see. Rest now; you need more sleep. I will see to

this; you need not worry.” He straightened with a smile, then left the room with a last lingering

look, closing the door softly in his wake.

Anyar put shaking fingers to his lips.

Why had Tanyan's kiss done nothing for him? No rush of passion, no desire to be closer to

the other man, nothing. Where had the need and want of a year before gone?

The answer was obvious, though he wished fervently for it to be otherwise.

Someone else held his heart.

* * * * *

come over him as he watched the grim faces of the soldiers, many of them glancing at him

sidelong as he walked by. He did not know if they were blaming him or seeing him as a martyr,

but his own heart rejected both.

For the sake of one man, this war did not need to be. He did not agree with Tanyan's

assessment of the situation. The Nazarians had not attacked any Melanian territory during the

forced truce. They would have had the upper hand with Melan's commander under their thumb,

yet all they had done was enforce peace.

Anyar did not wish to be the cause of that peace failing.

But he could not bear the thought of returning to slavery. The humiliation and pain of his

time with Vanyae were etched deeply into his mind and heart, and yet—

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For that short time, there had been something else, something…special between them.

Something more. Almost friends, lovers, companions. If only it could be that way forever. If he

knew that to be true, possible, he would return in a moment, never to leave Vanyae's side.

But that was only a foolish wish, a fantasy.

Returning would only destroy any illusions utterly as his master punished him for his

escape.

There could be no returning to what was, and at that moment, he could see no future,

certainly not with Tanyan, who he could only hurt.

* * * * *

were high on both sides, but especially between Tanyan and Vanyae, who sat staring at each

other in cold silence for long moments before either would deign to speak.

It was Tanyan who finally broke the silence.

“Will you give way before us? Otherwise there will be battle.”

Vanyae gave a grim smile. “I will not hand my country over to you.” He paused, let his

voice sink to a gentler tone. “Do not do this. There can be peace between our peoples given half

a chance. Do not lose lives for little gain.”

“You yourself have made this so. You and your actions.” Tanyan's voice held nothing but

hatred.

“If I gave myself to you, surrendered myself, would you cease this attack?” Vanyae's voice

was weary and toneless. “Would that give you the revenge you seek? Would that heal Anyar?”

Tanyan sat back in his saddle, stunned by the offer.

This was nothing he had expected.

He stared into the other man's eyes and saw only truth. In that moment he knew that the

prince loved Anyar. This was why the boy grieved. Tanyan's eyes hardened, his hand clenched

over the pommel of his sword.

Anyar was
his
. Had been his from the beginning.

This enemy had no part of that.

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“If you give yourself over, I will call off the army. There will be truce.” He felt the

eagerness in himself, the need to eliminate this rival, this embodiment of all he hated of Nazar.

Vanyae nodded, only that, and dismounted despite the pleas of his men to reconsider.

Vanyae ordered them into silence, then removed his armor piece by piece until he stood

unprotected before his executioner.

Without perceivable reluctance, he came before Tanyan and slowly knelt upon the ground,

his proud neck bowed, waiting for the kiss of the sword.

Tanyan dismounted, drawing his blade, eyes alight with fervor.

It was then they heard the faint cry. Recognizing that young voice, both Vanyae and

Tanyan turned, watching in confusion and concern as a figure flew from the fortress, black wings

rising into the morning sky.

Anyar came before them, stumbling at his landing, incredulous eyes taking in the scene

before him, the obvious implications.

“How could you?” he breathed, staring at Tanyan disbelievingly. “I thought you a leader,

not a murderer. Is this all there is? We kill them; they kill us?” His eyes swept all the men before

him, landed on Vanyae's kneeling figure. “Can there be no more than this?”

The prince and he stared at each other for long moments, and tears rose up in the younger

man's eyes before he turned back to his mentor.

“There will never be peace until someone has the courage to step forward and make it so.

This man offers himself to stop the bloodshed, yet you will perpetuate it.”

Tanyan took a step toward him, pain in his expression as the young guard backed away. “I

do this for you, Anyar.”

“I will not be the cause of a death! Any death! This will not be in my name!” Anyar's voice

broke. “You do not do any of this for me; you do it for yourself.”

He backed away another step, wild pain in his eyes. “I will not be a part of this. You will

not
use me; no one will ever use me again!”

His wings spread, and he leapt…

Anyar kept flying straight up, massive wings swift and determined…and suddenly Vanyae

knew.

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Vanyae gave a sharp sound, almost a cry of denial, then stood and flung open his own

wings, launching into the air in pursuit.

Tanyan could only stand there, shocked. Once again the look on his enemy's face had said

it all. Whether the prince knew it or not, he loved the boy with all he was.

Tanyan knew then, as he remembered Anyar's behavior since their escape, that the boy felt

the same.

And now…

He motioned to his men to follow as he took to the air. He now knew what Anyar was

doing but could not stop it. He could only watch—and await what could only be a tragic

outcome.

Anyar felt his breath becoming harsh with effort as he went higher. This was farther than

he had ever been, and he knew now why the instructors gave them such stringent warnings. The

air grew thin, his senses beginning to swim. Still, he strove, eyes on the clouds above, so very

close that it seemed he could touch—

He faltered a little, thought he heard a faint shout from below, but kept his attention on his

destination, his purpose. It was quiet here; there was only his breath, the rush of air past his ears,

and the rhythmic beat of his mighty wings. His heart pounded in his chest, harder and harder as

his lungs sought air that was increasingly scarce.

This was the answer. This was the way out of everything. If he took his own life, then he

could not be used. Not by Vanyae, not by Tanyan. No one could say that he was the cause of a

war. He did not have to make a choice between his people and the man he loved—

A tear streaked across his cheek as the thought took form, a thought he could no longer

deny.

He loved Vanyae. Stupidly, unbelievably, completely. It made no sense, and yet it simply

was. There was no future in it, no hope. He could not go home; he could not go back to where his

heart wished. There was nothing.

He gasped as his lungs spasmed; his senses whirled, so that his wing beats faltered—then

simply stopped.

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He felt himself fall, felt the wind and the sense of utter freedom.

As his mind fell into darkness, he smiled…

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Chapter Nine

Vanyae sat on the windowsill and stared out at the rain with unseeing eyes. The weather

suited his mood perfectly, and he leaned his forehead against the glass, relishing its cold comfort,

closing his eyes in weary resignation.

The door opened and closed softly, but he did not bother to open his eyes. He knew those

footsteps well, and he did not flinch or startle as his father laid a powerful hand on his shoulder.

“You need to rest, my son. You do not eat nor sleep. You cannot go on this way.”

The prince leaned back, letting his father take his weight for long moments, wanting for

that time to feel like a child again, like everything would be all right if his father said so.

The king stroked his hair gently, feeling the need in his son for something simple and

clear, easy to understand.

They stayed just so for some time, taking comfort from each other's presence.

“Your men ask after you,” the king finally murmured. “They are concerned.”

Vanyae nodded vaguely, too weary to answer the unspoken question of when he could

return to his life.

He took his father's hand and kissed the back of it, drawing a deep breath.

“Soon, Father. Tell them 'soon.' Not just yet. It takes time.”

The king nodded sympathetically, not pushing. He tugged his son up to his feet.

“You
will
sleep. You cannot continue this way, and it does no good to be so weary. You

cannot function, Vanyae. Do this for me, if not for yourself.”

The prince nodded numbly and allowed his father to guide him across the room to the vast

bed.

He stripped off his clothes with the king's help, his movements slow and worn, like one

without life. At last he lay back, slowly and stiffly. Carefully.

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Veslan covered his son with the thick covers and tucked him in. Ensuring that there was

water by the bed and that the fire was stoked for the night, he laid a last kiss on Vanyae's

forehead, then quietly left the room with hope that the morning might bring better things for

them all.

Vanyae lay unmoving, but tired though he was, he could not seem to shut off his mind, and

he sighed with weary resignation. Sleep would not come to him yet again.

A faint sound from beside him made him freeze, his eyes flying open. He turned

cautiously, almost holding his breath.

It came again, a faint murmur, a whisper of sound from parted lips.

He leaned over, trembling fingers rising to trace beloved features, hope flaming in his

heart.

Golden eyes slowly fluttered open, dazed and confused. They finally focused on Vanyae,

and he held his breath, hoping…fearing that they would hold hate or disgust or—

Instead tears rose to make the gold shimmer, and Vanyae moved closer, his hands framing

the younger man's face, gentle lips kissing away the wetness as it began to trail down pale

cheeks.

“Vanyae…” The voice was faint and hoarse. “Master…”

The prince smiled, though his lips thinned with the effort to control all he felt.

“No, Anyar. Not master. Lover, companion, friend—all those and more, but never master

again. You are not slave but beloved.” His own tears rose, and Anyar's fingers touched them in

wonder.

“How…?” Anyar licked his lips weakly. “I died.”

Vanyae shook his head, bending to kiss those lips. “I caught you, my love. We both fell.

We hit some trees. You struck your head, and the physician was worried you would never wake.

It has been almost two weeks.”

Anyar blinked dazedly, trying to understand. Only then did he see the splint and bandage

on the prince's right wing.

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The sudden concern in the younger man's face made Vanyae's eyes lighten briefly. “I broke

my wing.” At the horror in his lover's face, he spoke soothingly. “It will heal well, they say. Do

not fret, little one. I will be fine.”

Anyar subsided, though he let shaking fingers touch the bandage, as though to assure

himself.

Vanyae caught Anyar's eyes with his own. “I have not left your side, my love. I could not.”

He swallowed hard. “I have been such a fool, Anyar. Treated you so very badly. I did not

understand what I had, what I felt. Please forgive me. Please stay.”

The desperation in his voice touched Anyar deeply, and he laid his fingers on the prince's

lips to halt the flow of words.

“The war?” This most important of topics made his breath quicken.

Vanyae gave a chastened grimace.