The roses would not care about Tiiran’s answer. Tiiran hesitated anyway. “What doyouwant? No outguard serves forever.”
Orin straightened with a glance toward the garden’s entrance, as if he had roses on his mind too.
“True. Many go back to their homes, if they have them. Or to their spouses who do not wander for a living. Some used to join the Palace Guard.” The disdain in Orin’s voice for that option made Tiiran smile a little. “Others swear themselves to a noble family—often for better pay but also often for more danger—or get work as private guards for merchants and traders. None of those seem places that would welcome me.” He didn’t appear to notice Tiiran’s surprise. “I don’t think I’d mind swearing myself to a noble family that I felt wouldn’t waste my blood or my life, but there’s few of those around, and most of them would take me far from the capital. The capital is where I most like to return to, these days.”
“Why wouldn’t they welcome you?” Tiiran demanded, growing sharp. “You’re smart and well read, and you think about things in ways others don’t. And… I know nothing of your sort of fighting or of weaponry, but I have no doubt you are accomplished there too. And you’re kind as many are not, even with me.” Tiiran twisted his mouth but it had to be said. “You should be welcome anywhere.”
Orin tipped his head up, then said, very softly, “The gardeners have left the vines to grow over the garden walls. Without care, flowers will overtake the palace and the palace will be prettier for it. But roses have a tendency to draw blood.”
Tiiran didn’t understand flowery speech or riddles. “Orin.”
“Most outguards do not read poetry in their spare time.” Orin didn’t raise his voice. “I’m odd to many of them too. Oh, they get along with me. They like me,” he assured Tiiran, looking at him again at last. “Many people like me in a specific way, at specific times, when they have specific needs. But you’re right, I can’t hang around the guardhouse forever.”
Tiiran’s heart beat quickly again. “Do you want a spouse? Spouses? More than lovers, I mean.” Obviously, Orin had lovers. Other people were not that foolish.
Orin looked down at him for what seemed a long time. “Unlike in my younger days, I rather like the idea of coming home to someone. My family was right about having a home, it was just that theirs is not mine. I’m odd to them as well. Any family I’d have for myself would have to accept that and I don’t know if anyone would, if I may continue being honest with you.”
“‘Coming home,’” Tiiran softly repeated the phrase. “To more than the barracks, then? To a room in the palace? You could work in the library. There’s no rule saying assistants must be younger than the Master Keepers. It’s just tradition, and perhaps because they’re easier to boss around. Or… maybe we’ll get a good ruler at last, and you wouldn’t mind serving them here, if the capital is the place you are most fond of.”
“Trying to keep me close?” Orin pressed gently. “You’ve nothing to worry about there, fire-heart.”
Tiiran had another breath full of roses. “I like seeing you too, Orin. It’s better when you’re near.”
Orin made a sound, an exhale more than a word, then spoke with obvious care. “Elaborate, kitten. Please.”
That would require putting a name to the tangle, which Tiiran certainly would not attempt with Orin right in front of him.
Someone walked out of the garden. From their clothes, a noble. They visibly startled at the sight of Orin, his size or his sword frightening them before they recovered and hurried away. Many nobles were jumpy too. Tiiran really should remember that and try to be more patient with them. But the reminder was irksome, for it also meant that Orin here, at night, armed, would only alarm more people the longer Orin lingered.
Tiiran put his head down. “You don’t need to take me the whole way. It’s a long walk back for you, and the start of a long journey. I’ll get food, I promise.”
“You’re being reasonable,” Orin replied, taking his time to do so. “I’m proud of you, but saddened, for I will miss you while I’m gone.”
He said it easily but Tiiran didn’t actually think it was easy to say. It wouldn’t have been for him, anyway. But Orin was a little braver—a lot braver—and forgiving of Tiiran’s many faults.
Tiiran nodded to himself, running his tongue over the chip in his tooth before looking up again. “What you said earlier… thereissomething I’ve wanted.”
“Oh?”
Orin must have taken a step, because he was suddenly closer. Or maybe Tiiran had. Tiiran didn’t mind either way, though he had to put his head all the way back to keep Orin’s face in sight.
Tiiran frowned for another moment, then was a ninny and a coward because he had to drop his gaze before he made himself say the words.
“Could I hug you?”
His heartbeat did not cover the sound of what he would swear was tinkling laughter from somewhere beyond the garden wall, or at least a bell decorating some tree the fae loved or left as an offering to encourage the fae to grant a wish.
Orin said nothing for long enough for Tiiran get twitchy.
“I’ve never embraced anyone as the others do when they say goodbye. People hug farewells even after just a tup in the stacks.” Tiiran said that crossly, because a tup in the stacks might have been easier to ask for. There was nothing personal about that. “But I’d like to. I’d like to try that. Iwantto try that. With you.”
“Come here, kitten.” Permission was granted, Orin’s voice quiet and rough. Tiiran could still feelkittenvibrating through Orin’s chest when Orin took the step first and put his arms around him. Tiiran forgot to open his arms in return, but after a moment of stunned discovery that Orin was indeed solid and warm, shifted to get his arms out from between them. He squeezed the second he could and Orin laughed, but it was choked, so Tiiran didn’t mind. “It’s my honor,” Orin murmured over the top of Tiiran’s head, talking like Nikoly did, though Tiiran didn’t mind that either.
Orin’s body was giving in interesting ways. He’d be comfortable to sit on, Tiiran decided, flushing hotly. He turned his head to rub his cheek over Orin’s gambeson, which was not soft, though Orin’s chest would serve perfectly well as a pillow if the need should ever arise. Orin rubbed circles over Tiiran’s back and that was good too, creating and dispelling shivers. His hands felt huge. Tiiran shuddered a little but didn’t pull away.
“Should I hold tighter?” he wondered, voice muffled by wool.
“Do whatever you like to me.” Orin’s words traveled through him and Tiiran was glad his face was hidden and his mouth crushed against the gambeson so Orin wouldn’t see him blush or hear him moan. He continued to stroke up and down Tiiran’s back. “Whatever you like,” Orin said again. “I promise I won’t mind.”
