Page 6 of Blessed

“You also seem hungry, my love,” he murmured, and smiled when Mil mumbled under his breath, though clearly meaning to be heard, that he wasfucking starving and Arden knew it. But Mil watched Mattin eat the slice he was given and then discreetly lick his fingers clean before he sank his teeth into what was left of the stone fruit. He was nearly growling.

The juice went everywhere, down Mil’s chin and between his fingers. Mattin found himself studying his cup of tea again and fighting not to squirm when the pit was discarded and Arden tugged Mil to him by his shirt collar to kiss him with their mouths open. A kiss that made Mil groan. A kiss Mattin could taste on his own tongue, still warm from Arden’s hand.

“Not fair,” Mil complained quietly when the kiss was over, as if he were in Mattin’s place.

Arden kissed him again. Mattin thought it was meant to be soothing. Mil did not seem soothed. Mattin certainly wasn’t. He should not have lost himself in thoughts of them. They were happy as they were.

He excused himself shortly after that, resolving that from now on he would spend a day of rest after his fevers in his room, and then another day hiding in his office in the library so that he wouldn’t forget himself at their table again, or ruin the seats of any more of his pants.

He also resolved to stay far away from peaches.

He had never even especially cared for peaches. Perhaps he really wasn’t getting enough to eat. He should work on improving his meals whenever he next had the time.

The time never came. Arden and Mil, together and separately, had taken to bringing Mattin along with them on various errands around the palace and then apologizing for it as if wasn’t Mattin’s duty and pleasure to help them.

“We wouldn’t want to keep you from anyone, Sass,” Mil said once while watching Mattin nibble bits of toffee that Mil had apparently purchased at a spring fair in the capital.

“If you have anywhere else to be, Keeper Arlylian…” Arden had said, quietly polite, while asking for Mattin’s help in choosing tea blends for his sister and then insisting Mattin take some as well for his trouble. It was not trouble for Mattin to be around either of them. Not in the sense Arden meant.

If there was any trouble, it was in trying not to embarrass himself simply because they were kind, or smelled good, or shared the soft intimacy of their mornings with him as if trying to confuse him. A sitting room with a small table and a cozy fire was not like the comfort of a nest, nor did it hold the passion of one, but it felt so, sometimes, and Mattin was finding it more and more difficult to tear himself away.

Part Two

He traveled to the Arlylian territory to visit his family at the end of summer and was glad for the chance to see his loved ones, and to clear his head away from the palace and the confusing, maddening, wonderful royal couple. He even stayed longer than his usual visit of a few weeks so he could witness a cousin’s hand-fasting. The festivities were merry and the wine plentiful enough that Mattin could look on the happy pairing without too much of an ache in his chest. But truthfully, he’d been ready to return home before he’d even unpacked his trunks upon arrival.

The voyage down the river to the capital was endless, the weather too wet and cold and then too hot. Mattin got to his room in the palace late at night and slept past the time when he should have gone to meet with Arden and Mil over breakfast. But, having been gone, he had nothing to bring to them, and since his movements were slow with exhaustion, he decided to save his energy for the work sure to be waiting for him on his desk in his office. He likely hadn’t been missed anyway. Another Master Keeper would have sat in on the council meetings and could have answered Cael’s questions.

The assistants were pleased to see him, although they kept trying to offer him meals and tea despite how Mattin insisted he was still queasy from his oddly rough boat trip. He accepted the tea at least when his mouth felt dry as a bone, but then it was so hot that he had to wait until it was cool and the bitterness kept him from having more than a sip.

The fever hit him hard that evening, when he was the only one, or hoped he was the only one, left in the library. He staggered outside, probably not locking the doors behind him, and made it to his room only because the path was familiar.

He shook and moaned and ached for three full, horrible days, waking up more than once in his makeshift nest on the floor by the bed, trying to take comfort in gloves and a cushion and a cloak that only smelled like him and Blessed-wet and the oil that he’d reached for when his wet hadn’t been enough.

He kept to his room the fourth day despite the gnawing in his stomach, his throat constricting whenCaelwas the one to knock on his door and ask if he was well.

One could not leave Cael of the Rossick on the other side of a closed door, so he answered, begging her to wait while he dressed. But that or the rawness of his voice must have alarmed her, because she ordered food for him without asking, and left a message for him with the meal tray, to come and see her the following day—and, if possible, to visit with the king and his husband sooner than that.

The note also suggested that, if not possible, Mattin ought to visit them sooner anyway.

Mattin had never been in the king’s rooms in the evening hours but didn’t think Cael’s words should be ignored. He bathed several times, cold scrubs at first, and then a longer soak in hot water after he’d eaten. His hair was in two simple braids, which had taken most of his strength, and he wore a heavy robe and pants. Putting those on had taken the rest of it.

He gave the guards at the king’s door at wary look but they didn’t indicate he ought to turn around and go back to his room, so he forced himself to keep walking.

Arden was probably disappointed with him for the unexpected time away. Mattin was supposed to have been gone three weeks at most but then had spent an additional half a week in his room. He must have been needed, and though Mattin took a bit of vicious pleasure in being the only librarian the king relied on, Arden and Mil should have been able to work with his temporary replacement. Perhaps whichever Keeper had been chosen hadn’t understood Mil and Arden the way Mattin did.

Which was a horribly presumptuous thought to have as he was about to step into their private quarters unannounced after disappointing them. He cleared his throat loudly to give them some warning, and then said, “I’m sorry, but Cael told me I ought to come see you,” as though his heart wasn’t racing and his cheeks weren’t flushed.

They were at their table, at dinner, in undershirts and pants and not a single piece of armor. Much like they were in the mornings, only they looked far more tired in the glimpse Mattin got before they were both up out of their seats and ushering him to the seat at the table closest to the fireplace. Their hands were big and very warm and pressed to him in many places for several confusing, torturous moments.

They were hale and healthy, and Mattin was almost grateful they were too busy fussing to notice how he could not look away from them. They did not seem to have the same opinion of Mattin’s appearance that he had of theirs, but they couldn’t be expected to have missed him as he had missed them.

Still, Mattin did wish for a moment that they thought him beautiful, or at least would not speak of how horrible he must look.

“What did they do to him?” Mil asked Arden above Mattin’s head. “Hasn’t eaten in a week, I’ll bet.”

“I ate today,” Mattin objected, feeling very silly for speaking at all when they both ignored him.

“Probably his first real meal since he left home,” Arden replied to his husband, then sat down to study Mattin closely.

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