Wolf’s Cub

Chapter 1

Author's Note: My thanks to Thyme for her outstanding editing and advice with this story, and to Christian, for providing inspiration and opportunity.

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Michael strode rapidly through the ground floor of the tower.  Reaching the narrow stairs, he began the long ascent without breaking his stride, merely altering his steps to adjust for the vertical nature of the surface he traversed. In his room at the very top of the high tower, Colin watched his friend’s approach in his scrying glass.  He glanced over to the bed where Rafael still slept and sighed. It was time to awaken the boy and begin the painful questioning, much as he wished he could let him rest longer and recover.  He’d held off the interrogation this long only by assuring Michael that he would know if there were anything they could have done during the long hours before dawn, after he had retrieved the exhausted, injured Rafael who’d been distraught when he realized Dominic had not reached them. He had resorted to medicating the boy to get him to sleep.

Colin walked over to him now, his long robes whispering softly as he moved. “Rafael, awaken. Michael is almost here.”

The twin awoke at once, instantly alert. He’d been trained well. Both of the boys had been. Colin knew by the disappointment on Rafael’s face upon waking that his mind had automatically reached out for his twin, and once again, had been unsuccessful.  He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he said in his calm, measured voice. “Dominic may be....”

“Dead.”  Michael stood in the doorway, his handsome features bleak.  The twins looked so much like him, but without the harshness that loss and worry had carved into his face at too young an age. Except for their eye color, the twins were carbon copies of Michael, Colin thought, Michael as he used to be. When Suzanne and Adam were alive.

Michael came into the room and went over to Rafael, who struggled against his fatigue to stand. Michael accepted his bow, but Colin was pleased that Michael then pulled his younger son into a tight hug.

“Tell me what happened,” Michael invited, as he sat on the edge of the cot and pulled the boy down to sit next to him. He kept an arm over the boy’s shoulders for comfort. Rafe leaned against him. No one who saw him thus would ever recognize him as the cold Assassin, Colin thought, watching father and son interact so lovingly together. Of course, neither he nor Michael would ever let an outsider close enough to see them so vulnerable. 

“Do you think Nic...do you think he’s... dead?” Rafe could barely whisper the last word, but he forced himself to ask the question as he looked from Michael to Colin and then back at Michael, trying to gauge their expressions, read their thoughts. Of course, there was nothing to read. No one was better than these two men at hiding their emotions and thoughts. By some imperceptible sign, Michael passed the question to Colin to answer.

“No, he isn’t dead,’ Colin said decisively. “I haven’t seen anything in my scrying yet, but I was able to see the men you were with, and especially the man who took Dominic. He is a Metamorph, as you already know, but more than that, he is a pack leader, and of the wolves. He would no sooner harm a young person than cut off his arm.”

“But he would cut off his arm if it would aid the pack or if he believed the arm had brought harm to the pack,” Michael said bluntly. Rafe looked disbelieving, but Colin nodded.

“He’s right, Rafael. The Metamorphs exhibit many of the traits of their animal forms even when in their human form. They see that as their strength and I don’t know that I disagree. So yes, if he believed that Dominic harmed the pack, this Metamorph, as the Leader, would act decisively. Yet, we can take comfort from the fact that unlike the humans, he won’t permit his pack to act with cruelty, or unfairly–at least, not in a way which they would see as unfair.”

“We harmed one of his people. We didn’t mean to but we did and it made him very angry,” Rafe told them. He explained, as quickly and succinctly as possible, what had happened even though Colin had already seen much of it in his scrying glass. They both questioned him closely. 

“How exactly did you escape?” Michael asked. “I felt the echo of your pain when the wolf struck you–it was a disabling blow. I drew as much of it away from you as I could, but still, I had expected you to be unconscious for hours.”

“Thank you, sir, I believe you drew more away than you realized, as did Nic. He and I had kept our mind-link open for communication purposes, and the blow came so suddenly, I didn’t have time to shield Nic–or you. I came to in less than thirty minutes but I could not sense Nic then. My head was pounding pretty badly but I did have enough energy to feign death believably a short time later when I heard the other wolves arrive and I realized that they thought I was dead. They assumed that their leader had killed me in retaliation for their comrade’s injury. They were shocked to see that, quite frankly, as they couldn’t imagine how he came to be hurt, but they put it down to ‘mind-twister’ magic. They left me behind in the hope that the government guards would be satisfied upon finding my body and not pursue them further.”

“How did you avoid the guards?” Michael asked.

“I cast a disillusion spell. When they showed up, I tried to think, what would Nic do, and then I did that.”

“Which was?” Michael asked, with an edge of impatience in his voice.

“I made myself appear to be a diseased wolf carcass.” Rafe looked slightly embarrassed. Colin and Michael looked at each other and were hard pressed to hide their amusement. The older twin excelled at creative solutions to problems, although Colin had helped Rafael brush over exactly how Dominic had attracted and held the attention of the wolf leader. There were some things a father did not need to hear.

“Did that work?” Michael asked dryly.

Rafe smiled slightly.  “Very well. They didn’t come within ten feet of me. Since it was night, they didn’t wonder at the lack of flies. They just gave up, deciding that there must have been a skirmish and the wolves lost. Once they headed back to Breslin, I sent my message to Colin and he aided me in teleporting home. I was so intent on getting a message to you that I did not dare make any more attempts to reach Nic. I’d hoped that he’d be here when I arrived.”  The regret that he wasn’t was plain on the twin’s face. Colin looked to Michael to reassure Rafael but his friend’s green eyes were looking off into the distance, his expression somber, no doubt thinking over every bit of what they’d been told. So, he offered the comfort that was needed.

“You made the right choice, Rafael. One of you needed to get back to us. Dominic sent a partial call but his message was broken off. I have been unable to establish a link with him at all and if I cannot, I do not know that you would have been able even with your twin link, not in your weakened state. He may well have been trying to reach you instead of us. That would be like him. But wherever he is now, and whatever kind of shape, I sense that he has depleted his energy completely and cannot respond to us.”

Michael turned his attention back to them. “I have that same impression. I received a partial contact last night after receiving the pain from you–and sometime later there was a drain of energy.”  Colin was surprised; Michael had not mentioned that previously. ”Based on what you’ve told me, I don’t believe now the drain came from you, so it must have come from your brother. But why?”

He then went back over every minute of their mission, focusing especially on the guards’ pursuit of the twins and the appearance and behavior of the Metamorphs, on through to the time that the twins became separated after they had attacked the one wolfman. Finally, Colin put up his hand, stopping Michael from pursuing yet another line of questions.

“We’re going in circles now and Rafael is in need of nourishment. I suggest we let him break his fast while you and I discuss how best to respond to these developments.”

Rafael was hungry but he would rather stay and help with a plan for getting his twin back from the wolfmen. One look at his father, however, was enough to make him obey Colin without delay, once Michael gave his assent, of course. Michael was ready to explode and Rafe knew it would take all of Colin’s calming power to sooth his father when he was like this. Accepting a nod from the Royal Assassin and a smile from the Advisor, Rafael quickly left the room.

With a wave of his hand, Colin closed and secured the door. Michael huffed out a laugh.

“Keeping others out or me in?” he asked, raising a slim dark eyebrow.

“A bit of both,” Colin admitted. He watched as his friend began to pace back and forth, criss-crossing the diameter of the circular room.   Michael was not a tall man, only five nine in his stocking feet, but his body was like tempered steel, hard, perfectly defined muscle beneath the smooth covering of golden skin. There was leashed power in his every move. When he was still a very young man, Michael had trained to be a dancer. The third son of a second son in the Royal line, there was no reason why he could not pursue the arts, his parents felt. But, in Michael’s fourteenth year, his father Jerad ascended to the throne, his brother, King Aaron, dying in his oldest nephew’s arms, a victim of poison, they believed. It was then that Jerad’s older sons, Adam and Benjamin, took on the traditional roles as First Prince and Assassin.

Soon it became apparent that the royal families of all three kingdoms of Terrafyn were under attack from some unknown enemy.  Michael, who’d apprenticed in the Second Kingdom, married his first love, Suzanne, youngest daughter of Queen Alicia, when he was only fifteen, as there was an urgency to secure the throne. She was pregnant with his children when he was summoned home to take his position as Assassin – Benjamin having died in an attack against Jerad and Adam.  Jerad died a short while later from wounds sustained in that attack and Adam ascended to the throne then, with his youngest brother, the dancer, as his Assassin.

In the following years, there were twelve attempts on King Adam’s life. Ten against Queen Alicia.  In the Third Kingdom, there were multiple attacks against what had once been the most numerous of the Royal families. There were reports of massacre after massacre until only one small baby, Mellisande, an infant girl, was left. She was brought to the First Kingdom by the survivor of her Royal Family’s Priestly Order, the Advisors. He was a young Druid named Colin. Barely alive, he had collapsed at King Adam’s feet one cold autumn day and begged sanctuary. Less than a year after he arrived, Colin held a weeping Michael as they buried Adam and Suzanne.  As the last remaining members of the royal families, the two men went into hiding with the three children, Mellisande, Dominic and Rafael.    

That had been sixteen years ago. Michael hadn’t cried since. They fled to a small, unknown island in a corner of the First Kingdom. From the beginning, Colin had thought there may well be others with royal blood alive still, but it was not safe to seek them out as it wasn’t safe for them to let it be known that they were alive, not yet. Michael was grimly determined to keep the three children alive, and together, while they trained them in their people’s ways, teaching them the skills they would need to survive and reclaim their heritage. Only then would Michael go forth and seek vengeance, his right and duty as the Assassin. He would do it for all three Royal Families, he’d vowed on the graves of his wife and brother. 

What hadn’t been known to the populace as a whole was that all of the Royals had been what they  now called “mind-twisters,” and what they themselves called telepaths, the royals all having varying degrees of skill and talent. Those in the First Kingdom, where most of the sea-faring cities were located, excelled at illusions, mental telepathy and related skills. It enabled their rulers to be excellent negotiators and diplomats. 

The Royals of the Second Kingdom, which was located in the plains, had been best at telekinesis. They were excellent marksmen, skilled at hunting and at war–which led to them being able to enforce peace, predictably enough. They were good at building too, and could make tall towers and glorious castles. Much that seemed impossible was easy when you could move objects with your mind.

The Third Kingdom’s Royals, Colin liked to say, were the intellectuals of the three. They were the healers, the teleporters, the scryers. They worshiped Terrafyn and all of its creatures. Their land was in the forests and the mountains, leading out to the wide expanse of Ocean on the other side of their Kingdom.  Third Kingdom Royals had a hunger for knowledge and used their skills to travel and learn. Many of their second and third children trained as Druids and became Advisors to those who ruled over the people of their land.  They were the meekest of the three families, although in many ways, they were the most powerful, for they had the ability to affect the world around them.  This included power over the wind and rain, the sea and earth. It just did not occur to the average one of their kind to use their skill to attack. They rarely even used it to defend.

When Michael and Colin found themselves with three children to protect, and faced with an unknown enemy of seemingly limitless cruelty and resources, they put their knowledge together. They turned their backs on the Kingdoms they’d previously seen as the duty of their people to rule and protect. Michael had learned much about the Second Kingdom’s skills from Suzanne’s family, and he’d rejoiced to see that her sons had inherited her powers. Colin had been a younger son of a King and he had a full measure of his Third Kingdom power, as did his charge, Mellisande. 

What Colin and Michael discovered over the years was that the powers of all three Kingdoms, possibly due to intermarriages such as Michael’s, were latent in all three children. Moreover, now that they knew to look, they found vestiges of each type of “mind-twister” power in themselves as well. It just took training to bring it out. So, as they trained the children, they trained themselves too. They  also taught the children the history of their peoples, and most of all, they taught them to be secretive about their power and about who they were, but to be proud also.

The first ominous sign for them that the enemy they faced was bigger than a single foe was when new laws appeared a few years after the massacres. The Authority appeared, taking control of the Governments. The stewards went from being tradesmen who brought the commoners’ concerns to the attention of the Royals, to bullies who paid the wages of guards. The guards’ main task seemed to be the oppression of the people. The Metamorphs, who had lived in peaceful co-existence with humans when the Royals were in charge, were hounded and harassed until they fled deeper into their mountains and woods, coming out only to trade for necessities. Some of them grew wilder over the years, with the lessening contact with civilization; others died out due to the lack of access to medicines and other attributes of civilization that they’d grown used to.

While the Metamorphs were barely tolerated by the new regime, the “mind-twisters” as the telepaths were called, were vilified by The Authority. Rumors were spread about their practices; devil worship and human sacrifice were said to be among their most common activities. Most ironic of all, they were blamed for the murders of the Royal families. 

Colin and Michael had retreated to an island far off the shore of the First Kingdom, where rocky shoals made access by boat almost impossible. Here they’d lived and trained in peace, venturing into the wider world only when Colin’s scrying revealed another telepath in need of rescue. Usually it was a young teen, just coming into his or her powers, and the family would be torn between protecting their child and putting the whole family at risk, or turning the child in to certain death in order to save the rest of the family. Sometimes they sent the child away, “for his own good” or “to fend for herself” but such a child had little choice but to turn to whoring in one of the many taverns in order to survive.

Dominic and Rafael had been on a rescue mission with another of their group, Fen, when the government guards had given chase. Dominic and Rafe had sent Fen and the new boy off to the pre-arranged teleport site while they lured the guards away.

Colin knew just how much the responsibility for all these young people weighed on Michael, how much he worried that one wrong decision could spell the end of their people. But, the fastest way to a wrong decision was making one while in the grip of anger...or fear.

“You must let go of your fear, my friend. The boys did the best they could, as they always do.”

Michael looked at Colin.  “Was the new boy part of a ploy to capture Dominic?”  His hands were fisted at his sides, his voice hard. Colin knew that if he were to answer in the affirmative, that boy who was all of thirteen would be dead before night fell.

“He was not,” Colin answered, glad that it was the truth, wondering if he would have told Michael if it wasn’t. This man standing in front of him, this man who would kill a boy without a second thought if he’d put any of them at risk, but especially if he’d put the twins or Melli at risk–did he know him any more?  He sighed.

“Michael, the boy is exactly what Fen believed him to be. A distant cousin to the Second Family. As such, he is a relative, distantly, to your boys. I sensed no deceit in him. Heartache, yes. He’s lost his family after all. All because they caught him tossing bales of hay for the fall harvest.”

That got a reluctant grin out of Michael, who added, “Tossing without touching them, you mean.”

“Naturally,” Colin’s smile was a rarer sight even than Michael’s. “Sit down, Michael. If you will calm your mind, together we will try to find your elder son–rogue that he is. I’m sure that he’s safe but up to some mischief.”

“What if....”  Michael’s eyes were as lost looking as they’d been on that long ago day when he’d buried his brother and his young wife. Colin walked over to him and opened his arms, surprised but pleased when his friend walked into his embrace and laid his dark head down on his chest.

“I can’t lose him, Colin.”

“You won’t, Michael. I won’t let it happen,” the Advisor promised.

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Lycan carried the boy over to his alcove and carefully set him down on the pallet of furs. He ordered Kaden to build the fire up higher. For all that he’d been sweating during his efforts with Bran, the mind-twister’s skin felt cold to the touch now.  Lycan felt helpless as he gazed down at the still form. He had no idea how to help a mind-twister. For that matter, he wasn’t at all sure if he even needed help. Perhaps he was just exhausted and needed rest? Somehow, this did not seem like an ordinary sleep to Lycan.

“He looks ill,” Bran said, echoing Lycan’s own thoughts. He’d been so intent on the boy that he hadn’t been aware of his best friend’s approach. He turned, startled. “You can stand?”

“I feel fine,” Bran assured him. “Even that bit of pain in my joints that I always get this time of year, it’s gone from the leg he fixed. I wonder if I can get him to fix the other leg, too? Once he’s rested up, that is.”

Lycan turned his gaze back to the young mind-twister. The dark eyelashes looked like a smudge of soot from the fire where they rested against the pale cheeks. He reached out his hand and brought the back of it to the damp forehead, half expecting a fever. But no, he was cold. Like death.

Suddenly angry, he picked the boy up and shook him.

“Do not feign death! You are too sly to die!” he shouted. He could feel the shock of his pack. Bran’s hands came down on his shoulders.

“The lad needs rest, Lyc...let him sleep.”  He gently took the boy from Lycan’s arms and carried him over to a different sleeping area, closer to the fire.

He heard Bran call two of the younger members of the pack.

“Kaden, Jan, come, sleep now. This cub is cold, he needs the pack to warm him.”    

The two young men, barely out of childhood, stopped the play wrestling they’d been engaged in to the exclusion of all else, and quickly obeyed Bran. Next to Lycan, his word was law in the pack.  They shed the loose clothing the pack affected when they traveled as men, handy because it didn’t tear when worn over wolf limbs and was easily shed for fast runs. Morphing to their wolf forms for warmth, they settled on either side of Nic. Noting how uncomfortable the tight leather breeches Nic still wore felt against his skin, Kaden shifted back briefly to undo the laces and pull off the offending garment.

Seeing the naked young man undressing the mind-twister, Lycan felt a flash of anger. He almost reached out and cuffed Kaden, but the boy was already shifting back to wolf form and snuggling close to the boy and his wolf friend, more than half asleep.

“He meant only kindness, not lust,” Bran whispered softly. “Let them keep the boy warm for now – he’s in no condition for your attentions – yet.”

Lycan looked sharply at his old friend.  He almost spoke sharply to him, but instead turned away and strode back to his pallet, to lie down alone. Bran left him to his thoughts for a while, but soon enough was peering in the alcove, some meat and bread in hand.

“Hungry? Someone told me the meat was good tonight.”

Lycan looked at his friend’s weather-beaten face and remembered how it felt to see him lying so still on the ground.  He’d felt so angry at the boys then, for hurting Bran, but now this one had exhausted himself healing him. Lycan was confused by his feelings.

“Why did he do it? Did he think I would kill him if he didn’t heal you?”

“No, I don’t think he was afraid of you, Lyc. I sensed no fear in the mind that called me. He is a leader–much as you are. Can’t you sense it too?”

Lycan looked at the sleeping boy–the same boy who’d looked up at him with mischief in his face as his lips closed around his member. His face was pale, his brow creased even in sleep. But Bran was right, despite his youth, it was the face of a leader.

“He said he ran away because of duty–what could he have meant?” Lycan looked to Bran for an answer as that puzzled him. “Why would he run and leave his brother behind as he did? He started to ask me about him when he woke but he immediately switched his question to asking about you.”

“If he left his brother behind to face your wrath,” Bran spoke slowly, trying to piece together what had happened when he’d been unconscious, “I don’t believe it was out of cowardice, or lack of caring for his brother. Those two were like one heart in two bodies. You saw how he turned to defend his brother against me–no thought for himself then, even though you had him in your clutches. But the other one seemed to be the one who decided to attack and this one threw all that he had into it. I think it was the other one who told him to go–and he did so because it was his duty. He had to get somewhere, I suspect, maybe reach their people. There was some reason those guards were trying to stop them. Weren’t you surprised to find two mind-twisters out and about, Lyc?”

Lycan nodded, thinking back to what the boy Nic had said. They were hunted for wicked sport, sport that was taken too far. What had he meant, and why did the Government hunt them if they hadn’t broken any laws? Now that Bran pointed it out to him, the two boys had not acted as two young cubs–the entire time this evening, they’d been behaving like seasoned wolves scouting out enemy territory.  Even to the point of seeking allies among other outsiders. They may not have known that Lycan and his men were Metamorphs, but they seemed to have known they were not Breslins.

“I will question him in the morning,” Lycan decided.

“Assuming he is awake by then,” Bran pointed out. Lycan frowned. He did not want to think about what he’d do if the young man were not recovered from whatever ailed him by then. The pack would be moving on at daybreak.

Several hours later, Lycan found himself staring at the ceiling of the small alcove that served as his sleeping area. The others had all fallen asleep long since, except for the men assigned to the watch. They alternated between their wolf and man forms throughout the night, one of each for each shift, keeping the fire tended and ensuring the safety of the group.

Lycan was ready to go relieve one of the watch, since he wasn’t getting any rest anyway, when he “heard” a faint cry in his mind.

Wolf..., wolf..., where are you?

Lycan knew that voice; he’d heard it in his head before. He got up and walked over to the pallets where Kaden and Jan had curled up next to the mind-twister. Now the two young male wolves lay next to each other and the boy clung to the outside of the pallet, shivering.

Wolf, wolf, come to me, help me.

He didn’t think twice. He picked up the half-frozen figure and brought him back to his pallet. He pulled off the shirt which was soaked with the boy’s sweat. He must have had a fever after all, Lycan thought, and that is what made him move away from the wolves’ warmth. Once the fever broke, he was cold and damp in the night air, even with the fire so close. Lycan considered shifting to his wolf form to warm the cold figure in his arms, but decided against it. His nude human body, with its light covering of gold hair, was surely warm enough. He didn’t consider how much his decision was swayed by how good all that cool skin felt next to his. He just knew that there was satisfaction in the voice that purred in his head now, as Nic burrowed close, his face tucked into the space between Lycan’s neck and shoulder, his legs entangled with the wolfman’s.

Nice...very nice....so warm...mm good.  

The thoughts were like small sparks. They didn’t catch fire and blaze like the energy had when Nic had healed Bran. They were like tiny flames that showed you the fire wasn’t completely gone, but it was a long way from giving off any heat. The type that would need careful tending if it wasn’t going to die out altogether. Lycan was good at that type of nurturing. He’d seen his pack through many a harsh winter. He sent back some thoughts of warmth and safety, nothing that would strain the sparks, just enough to keep them going.

Just before he dozed off, Lycan thought he heard the voice softly murmur, mine.

And he was fairly sure that if it did, he may have sent the thought back, yes, mine.

************************************************

Michael allowed himself the comfort of Colin’s strong embrace for all of three minutes, wishing he had the courage to....

To do what, he mocked himself as he gently pushed back from that one refuge that he’d allowed himself these past sixteen years. Risk losing the one friend he had in this harsh new world? Risk alienating this incredible man who’d stood side by side with him when their old world had fallen apart and everything they’d known and been taught to trust failed them?

Michael ran his hand through his tangled hair–should get Melli to cut it, he thought absently–and moved away from Colin’s warmth, over to the large open window that overlooked the sea.

“We need to join minds with Rafael and try to locate Dominic. Do you think we should return to the area where you found Rafe?”  Feeling composed enough again to look at Colin, Michael turned back and met that cool, gray-eyed gaze.

His sons had their mother’s eyes, beautiful deep violet eyes that reflected their every mood, just as Suzanne’s had. Lovely Suzanne, with her ash blonde hair and gemstone eyes. They’d been children when they met. Younger royal children, they’d both been indulged, but where Michael had used that indulgence to win permission to study dance, his life’s passion then, Suzanne had used hers to win Michael. The beautiful dancer from the First Kingdom. She had her mother bring all the finest dancers in the three kingdoms to her court, and wanting to study with the best, Michael came too. When their parents thought it wise for them to marry and have children, neither thought to disobey. They were young and love came easily when you were fifteen.

Michael loved his twin sons as much as he loved dance, and he loved Suzanne for bringing them into the world. If his passion for her was a bit lacking, she never knew. She was the apple of the King’s eye, certainly, and King Adam gave into her whims as much as her own parents ever had; he was so pleased to have youth and happiness in his court. Suzanne stayed untouched by the worries that increasingly weighed on Michael as he labored to keep his brother safe. Until the day when he had to choose between his children and his wife, when the assassins made it into the royal chambers.

Michael still could hear the screams as he tried to be in three places at once, Adam yelling at him to save the babies while he saw to Suzanne, the two of them fighting off a team of professional assassins while hampered by babies and an hysterical woman. What hadn’t been known to the public was that Suzanne had been pregnant again. The assassins stole three lives from Michael that day, taking the daughter that they longed for. As he held Adam in his arms, Michael had lied to him for the first and only time in his life, assuring his beloved brother that he had saved Suzanne and the babe, that they would be fine. Suzanne had already died but Adam never knew. He left Michael with a smile on his face, his blessing on his lips.

If it had not been for Colin then, Michael was fairly sure he would have gone insane. Colin convinced him to delay his vengeance, and to get the children to safety first. Skeptical at first that the tall, quiet druid would be of any real use other than as a babysitter, Michael had his eyes opened when the tall robe garbed man stood on the shore at the edge of the First Kingdom and called up a gale that blew a small yacht to them.

Colin also sent a storm that sunk the ship of the men who tried to follow them.

As Michael looked at him, mouth hanging open in shock, Colin had given a self-deprecating shrug.

“I’ve kept it in a small, sheltered bay nearby after sailing here in it. I thought we might need it again someday.”

Sailing is much easier, Michael had discovered, when you have a weather mage with you.

They sailed until they came to a small island that was only accessible with Colin’s careful navigation through the rocky shoals. Michael, who’d been raised to think most highly of his own peoples’ skills, and secondly of the talents of the Second Kingdom, the Third Kingdom trailing a distant third, came to reconsider what he’d been taught. If it had not been for the skills and knowledge of this quiet man from the Third Kingdom, they never would have escaped the assassins sent after them nor would they have survived the early years in their refuge.

Michael had been trained to dance and to kill. Neither of those skills came in very handy on the island while the children were still toddlers. Together, the two men built a house, and later Colin’s tower. They found that the neighboring islands were peopled with very primitive natives and they engaged in trade with them, with Colin offering simple medicines in exchange for fish and other food. As their teleporting skill grew, Michael made trips back to the Kingdoms to try to uncover what, and who, had been behind the attacks against the Royals. But, when he returned from one such trip to discover that Colin had taken ill and there had been no way to summon him, he discontinued the trips, telling himself he’d wait until the children were grown.

He couldn’t risk the children...or Colin.

Michael wasn’t sure when it had happened that his feelings for Colin had changed. He just knew that they had. It was a very different feeling from what he’d felt for Suzanne, certainly.  Then, he had been a child and had felt a child’s infatuation. Now...now he felt the love a man felt for a life partner. He recognized the attraction on a physical level the first time he watched Colin stand before a storm and control its strength with his mind, his tall, slim body swaying in the wind like a beech tree. But the night he’d returned from his spying trip and a tear-faced Melli had met him with the news that Colin was sick, so sick they couldn’t wake him–he knew that the gray eyed druid owned his heart in a way Suzanne never had.

But, Michael never would tell him. The children and he needed Colin far too much. He couldn’t risk losing any more. So, friends was what they would stay, and it was far more than he’d thought he’d ever enjoy again on that terrible day his world had ended.

Still, times like this, when fear clutched at him, and Colin’s arms wrapped around him, he’d give anything to be able to lift his head and press their lips together. Anything...but his sons’ safety. Or Mellisande’s home. Or Colin’s friendship.

Damn. Time to get back to work.

“Should we summon Rafe or try on our own first?” 

Colin sighed. Sometimes he wished he had the nerve to probe Michael’s thoughts. What was he thinking when he went silent for so long?

“Let us wait for Rafael, and then we will try,” Colin suggested. The two men stood together and looked out over the water.

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