Page 104 of Blood of Wolves

Náli wanted to shove him away.

Wanted to drown in those dark eyes, so much warmer than the cold, white waters of the well into which he needed to descend.

In a low voice, Mattias said, “Can you even stand?”

Náli looked to Klemens. “Leave us.”

Klemens nodded, and he and the others left, too well-trained to goggle or question.

The door closed with a quiet click, and then it was only them, the crackle of the fire, and Náli’s too-quick breathing. This was the way it always was between them, these moments coming quicker, closer together. Náli had the sense they were hurtling toward a breaking point, and that he would be the only one to break, that Mattias would stand steadfast, and infuriatingly distant forever. Always touching, and yet so far out of reach.

“Here we are,” he said. “Again.”

Mattias sighed out slowly through his nose. “Do you think I can’t tell how tired you are?”

“Do you think being tired negates my responsibilities as Lord of the Fault Lands? My obligation to represent my house in front of my king?”

Mattias’s hands tightened a fraction; his gaze flickered down to look at them, and he forced them to lighten, no longer pressing with the pads of his fingers.

“Oh, bloody–” Náli slapped his hands down over his, and heard Mattias take a short, sharp breath through his teeth. “Look at me.”

Mattias held still a long moment, before his gaze finally lifted, wary through the screen of his lashes – and caught out. In this moment, his expression was that of a boy who’d been found tumbling a noble’s daughter in a hayloft; the gaze of someone who thought he’d done something very wrong.

Náli’s heart squeezed. But he squared his shoulders and firmed up his voice. “Not just any sort of man can join the Guard. It takes a strong one to pledge his life to a lord – especially one as difficult as me.”

“My lord–”

“Let me finish. I know you’re not a coward. But I know that you prize propriety and duty above all else.”

Mattias’s expression twisted with pain, not so readily hidden, now, and Náli felt something break inside himself. Oliver had been right. Náli had tried to deny, had tried to pretend that Mattias felt nothing for him, because it was easier that way; the sting of rejection didn’t hurt as badly as the knowledge of requited love that could never be realized.

He swallowed, and pressed on, voice shaking only a little. “I know that you will never act in a way that you fear will dishonor the legacy of the Dead Guard – in a way that will dishonorme.”

Mattias’s throat worked, and it looked painful.

“I think – well, I’m beginning to think, that because you can’t protect me from my fate, nor from my responsibilities, that you will instead protect me from myself. You coddle me, Mattias.”

“My lord, I’m only–”

“Trying to keep me safe? Yes, I know. But you are preventing me from being involved in the decision-making of this kingdom. And the kingdom can’t remain safe unless I use my power. I am the keeper of the dead, and you would lock me away and smother me in blankets, and–”

“Someone should!” Mattias burst out, surging to his feet. He locked both hands overtop of his head, on the ridge of his tight braid, and paced back and forth. “The king, the princes, the other lords – everyone wants to use you, and use you, until you’re nothing but a – a husk – until you–”

“Die early?” Náli said, with a rueful grin. They’d had this conversation before, but he felt steadier now, more in control of it.

Mattias froze, and whirled on him, expression horrified by his bluntness.

“It’s what I’m supposed to do, Mattias,” he said, softly. “It’s what I was bred for. Like my father before me, and my grandfather before him, and so on, and so on.”

Mattias was breathing hard, as if he’d been running. “It shouldn’t be that way.”

“But it is. My job is to use my magic in the best service to Aeretoll. Your job is to scrape me off the floor when I fall, feed me soup, and make sure assassins don’t come for me at night. It is not your job to tell me where to go, who to meet with, or force me to rest when I am needed elsewhere.” He said it patiently, because his chest was warm and full of love, heartstrings stretched tight with longing. Something about his talk with Oliver, about flying, had helped him see that railing against the inevitable was only causing him more pain.

“My job,” Mattias echoed, chest still heaving, gaze withdrawing. “Yes…yes, of course. My job.” He bowed his head. “I’m sorry, my lord. I shall endeavor to–”

“Matti.”

His jaw snapped shut, teeth clicking together.

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