Page 60 of Edge of the Wild

When he was finished, far too soon – Erik looked forward to someday hence when Oliver’s hair was much longer, and could be braided up in a proper Northern style – he rubbed the excess oil into the back of Oliver’s neck – until he bent forward and offered the whole of his nape, sighing out the tension that Erik had seen between his shoulder blades.

In a small voice, he said, “I’m sorry to have worried you today. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Erik guided him back, until he leaned against the chair edge, between his own spread legs, so that he could put arms around him. Could slide a hand inside the opening of his dressing gown and pet over the smooth skin of his chest. Oliver shivered. “I wasn’t trying to – to embarrass you in front of anyone. Or treat you like a child.”

“This almost sounds like it could be an apology, with a little work.”

Erik snorted, and pressed his face down into the top of his head. “I’m not sorry I kept you from getting hypothermia.”

Olivertsked.

“But I am sorry if I caused you mortification.”

“I suppose I’ll have to be happy with that.”

Erik found a nipple, and traced it with his thumb until it tightened.

Oliver sucked in a breath. But then said, “Wait,” and stilled Erik’s hand with his own. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh.” Erik’s stomach tightened unpleasantly. “Yes, well, it’s fine if you don’t want, of course–” He withdrew his hand; sat back.

“No, not that.” Oliver stood and began pacing, tight circles between their two chairs, beads clicking faintly. He chewed at his lip. “I was thinking about what happened today. And last night, too. That sort of thing has never happened to me before – not before my last bout of marsh fever.” He paused, and turned a rather lost look to Erik. “I don’t know why it’s happening now, I don’tfeellike I’m coming down with anything, but something – something isn’t right.” He shook his head. “I’m worried this is a warning sign. That I might be getting sick.”

The tightness in Erik’s belly became a lurch of fear. “Shit,” he muttered, “I should never have dragged you–”

Oliver stopped him with an upraised hand. “You didn’t drag me anywhere. We’ve been over this, and the reasons I needed to come are still valid. Travel isn’t the issue. I was just thinking: I have a tendency to…deny when I’m getting ill.”

“You mean when you pass out in hot springs and nearly drown yourself?”

“Yes, that.” He rolled his eyes, and then grew serious again. Doubtful, again. “Olaf gave me a tincture. Something he thought I should use just in case. A blend of herbs and ice rose.”

Erik frowned. The ice rose had worked before – or else the ice bath had, or the fever had simply run its course. As strange as Oliver had been behaving, he didn’t relish giving him a hallucinogen.

“He said,” Oliver continued, “to put a few drops under my tongue before bed if I felt like I might be on the verge of a relapse. That it was better to try it preventatively, rather than risk spending a week laid up in bed.”

They didn’t have a week for that, Erik knew. But if Oliver should fall ill, he would do every single thing within his power to ensure that he was warm and safe in a proper bed, and had access to every kind of herb, medicine, or wild shaman cure possible.

But the thought of him falling to fever at Dreki Hörgr, in the wilds of the true Wastes, put a lump of panic in his throat.

“Are you saying you want to take it now? Tonight?”

Oliver hesitated, then nodded. “It’s not a matter of want. But I don’t want to risk being struck down in the midst of all this” – he gestured – “madness. I was far too much of a bother today.” He rolled his eyes again, and this time, Erik knew he was exasperated with himself. “Here I am, trying to prove myself to your people, and I’m swooning into lakes like a maiden in a story. Get me a corset and some smelling salts, why don’t you.” The last was said more viciously than was warranted, and Erik wanted to put arms around him again.

“Come here,” he said, and Oliver came. Allowed himself to be pulled down to sit sideways in Erik’s lap – with only minimal protest, of the sort that left Erik grinning, and cupping his jaw, turning his face so they were nose-to-nose. “Whatever you need to do, I want you to do it, and I will watch over you.”

Oliver twitched a small, wry grin. “You’re very big on promises and kingly declarations.”

“It’s a good thing I’m a king, then.”

The wry grin softened into something true…one that turned wobbly. “I don’t want to take that stuff. I hate feeling like I’m not inside my own mind. That I can’t defend myself.”

“You don’t have to defend yourself. Not while I’m here. I won’t let anything touch you.”

“Bold words.”

“True ones. So long as I’m with you, you’re safe.”

This earned a sigh. But then Oliver turned his head and kissed his palm, a soft press that left Erik’s insides shivering pleasantly. “Dumb king,” he murmured against Erik’s sword calluses.

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