He croaked when Orin’s hold on him tightened to the point of pain, but it was the cough, then fit of coughs, that followed that had Tiiran suddenly on his feet again and released from Orin’s strong embrace only to have them both stroking, prodding, and poking him. Nikoly gently turned Tiiran’s head toward him, brows knit in concern at whatever he saw, his fingertips ghosting over Tiiran’s eye.
Orin put a hand to Tiiran’s chest. “Breathe in, kitten, and hold it for me, as long as you can.”
“Orin,” Tiiran complained, voice raw and rasping, his protest weakened by another cough.
Then Orin was kissing Tiiran’s temple too, quick, light kisses there, and then at Tiiran’s good eye and even his nose. “Tiiran,” he rumbled, accompanying Nikoly who was doing much the same, as if all they could do was murmur his name and kiss him.
“What are you doing here?” Tiiran didn’t like Orin in metal armor that was harsh to the touch. And Nikoly… Tiiran turned to him. “Why are you dressed as an outguard? Why are you here? You should go.” He pulled them both to him, but before he could burrow between them again, more coughs burst from him.
Orin smoothed Tiiran’s hair from his face until the coughs subsided, tipping Tiiran’s head back so their eyes met.
“I’m filthy,” Tiiran informed him, eyes and face stinging.
“You’re alive,” Nikoly returned bluntly, nestling in with his nose to the side of Tiiran’s face, rubbing the tip gently back and forth over Tiiran’s unbruised cheekbone.
Orin brushed his thumb over the corner of Tiiran’s swollen eye. “What did they do to you? Tell us, and we’ll find them for you.” He angled his head up, just for a moment, to address the guards on the floor around them. “Try it. I dare you.”
“Nothing.” The stinging increased but Tiiran was too thirsty for tears. “They did nothing to me. That was the point. But you shouldn’t be here.” He tried to tug on Orin’s mail, then glanced to Nikoly with a frown. “That wasmypoint. You should be gone. Why are you here?”
Nikoly looked up to Orin, then went back to adoring Tiiran’s cheek. “We’re here for you.” His hands were grasping at Tiiran but he kept his tone gentle. “We wouldn’t leave you, bee. Not ever.”
“A nonnegotiable condition of our involvement.” Orin’s tone was somehow vicious despite his tender touches to the side of Tiiran’s face. He focused on the palace guards again briefly, or so Tiiran assumed when Orin looked away from him and down the hall. He must have noticed the opened doors. “How did you come to be free?”
“They forgot about me, so I picked the lock.” Tiiran shut his eyes. When he reopened them, Nikoly and Orin were exchanging another look. Tiiran shook his head as if that would help them understand. “It was useful to be abandoned, but… but I wasn’t?” He stared at the two of them, his voice rising in his confusion. “You’re here forme?”
Orin hauled him up into his arms, leaving Tiiran to stand on his boots, but Tiiran collapsed against him and didn’t try to move. It was beyond foolish for them to have come for him but he couldn’t make himself say that. “I named it, Orin.”
The palm at the back of his neck felt like Nikoly, worried and gentle.
“Listen to him,” Nikoly said, that shaken, angry quality returning to change his voice. “He’s not making sense. I want him out of this place.”
Orin hummed in agreement. “Shall you check those cells, or shall I?” Nikoly didn’t answer, but Orin went on, “Fast, but not careless!” so Nikoly must have decided to be the one to check them. Metal clattered and clanged against stone, Nikoly perhaps kicking swords and knives out of reach of the fallen palace guards. Then Orin said, “Leave these ones to the others. Let’s go.”
Then he hefted Tiiran up into his arms with Tiiran’s back supported and his head against Orin’s chest as if Tiiran had fainted. Tiiran wasn’t sure he hadn’t. Still, he glared. “I can walk, Orin.”
“Let me do this. Please.” Orin looked at Tiiran in a way that made Tiiran’s heart race. Tiiran could have argued despite that, but was distracted by Nikoly with his swords out and his ferocious mask on again.
“I don’t understand,” Tiiran murmured instead, his heart thudding against his ribs when Nikoly passed them without meeting Tiiran’s eyes.
“There is still some danger, and one of us must carry you, so one of us must protect you,” Orin explained, already moving to follow Nikoly as he led them out. “He will do that for you even while believing that you hate him, Tiiran. Don’t fail to honor that.”
Before Tiiran could demand to know whatthatmeant, Orin called upward from the foot of stairwell. There was a friendly answer, but Nikoly still went ahead of Orin and Tiiran, weapons ready.
The next level was not as dark, with one window at the end of the corridor that had not been covered, so light and air streamed in. It was day, Tiiran realized with some surprise, and there were palace guards groaning on the ground their hands and ankles tied, and other palace guards also on the ground, unbound, making no sounds.
The doors to all rooms had been opened, and outguards, or possibly those dressed as outguards like Nikoly, were standing over the fallen palace guards. They looked to Orin when Orin appeared, although their attention did briefly dip to Tiiran.
“I don’t know how it’s going elsewhere, but it will help to keep these ones here and therefore unable to add to their numbers.” Orin spoke in the manner of someone in charge, so Tiiran asked him, “Is Captain Pash here?” and Orin and Nikoly went very still. Then Orin turned to one of the outguards and growled, “And find Captain Pash. He answers to me.”
Then Nikoly and Orin were walking again, up more stairs, past more outguards, before emerging into the fresh air and bright, bright sunlight.
Tiiran put his head down and squeezed his eyes shut when the light stabbed inside his skull.
“I have questions,” he croaked, tentatively cracking his eyes open at the sound of many voices and staring in astonishment at outguards and a crowd of well-dressed, if dirtied and dazed-looking, people rushing forward some distance ahead of them.
“I’m sure you do.” Orin pulled him up to nuzzle the top of his head. Tiiran was currently foul and smelly. Orin should know better.
Tiiran squinted but focused on Nikoly, who had one slender sword back in its sheath. His every step was graceful—and lethal, the way that the sworn guards of noble families moved. He hadn’t hidden that either. Tiiran had been oblivious, but told himself no one would have expected someone like that to copy books in the library.
