Page 40 of A Queen and Her Knight

Diego kissed it.

The End

We Could Be Heroes (or Cousins)

Posted as part of a charity event in 2023

Set sometime afterHis Mossy Boy

Summary: Zarrin reaching for Ian with his grasping (loving) hands. Gen.

Ian had only just arrived home after work when he turned to face north and frowned. Martin would have said something about his “Spider sense,” a reference Ian understood enough to roll his eyes at but not enough to argue over. Martin was trying to get him into comics, insisting that if Ian was going to have a secret identity, he should learn the lore.

Although then Martin had stared into the distance for a moment before mumbling something about how he’d end up “fridged” if Ian became a hero from a comic. Which was a reference Ian didn’t get even a little. When he’d tried dropping it into conversation, Schmitty had grimaced, so Ian resolved to look it up whenever he had the chance, which basically meant when he remembered and Martin wasn’t around.

Martin wasn’t around at the moment, but Ian was currently more interested in the presence in his territory.

All of the land around Everlasting, including the Preserve was Ian’s territory, in a sense. But Ian was concerned with the land in his name on all legal documents, land that butted up next to the state park, which meant lost or nosy hikers crossed over into it all the time.

This was different. Not ‘Martin Dyer passed out beneath his tree, ready to propose marriage’ different, but remarkable enough to have Ian leaving the house without doing much more than removing his badge and gun and dropping them in the kitchen. Martin would make a face if he found them there later, but hopefully Ian wouldn’t be out long.

He moved toward the disturbance in a straight line, growing as large as he could in his clothes without ruining them, wanting to cover the distance quickly.

The trees were not alarmed. No fleeing deer crossed his path. But the birds sang and the wind whispered of…something. Not in words. Never in words. Hints and teases, excitement without the smug pleasure that had heralded Martin’s arrival into Ian’s world. NotHe’s here.

Something new.

It’s time.

Ian didn’t hear as wolves did. It wasn’t a heartbeat that made him stop, it was the awareness of how close he was to the state park and then Zarrin’s gentle, husky voice addressing one of the trees.

“My, aren’t you handsome?”

Ian waited until he was his usual size and form before he continued forward.

Zarrin Xu stood several yards ahead, one hand resting lightly—not lightly—on a redwood only a few hundred years old. A baby, in redwood terms. Zarrin leaned in, lips moving in a whisper that Ian couldn’t hear but he knew what was said anyway.Mine.

Zarrin wasn’t wrong. He just also wasn’t entirely right. Though the tree didn’t mind, either way.

“There you are,” Zarrin called out as Ian drew closer, as if they didn’t see each other nearly every day, even if only in passing.

“Zarrin,” Ian answered carefully, then realized Zarrin was keeping to that side of the redwood because he was staying on the state park side of the border separating it from Ian’s property. He must have entered Ian’s territory just a step or two to get Ian’s attention and then returned to that spot to wait.

He’d knocked. Joe had probably told him to do that.

Ian crossed his arms. “Bit far from the mansion, aren’t you?”

Zarrin rolled one wrist in a vague gesture. “I like a walk sometimes. Especially now. Is this why you walk so much?”

“Who says I walk?” Ian asked it but knew the answer: Martin. Azar would have kept it to herself, more because that was her habit with things that she thought her parents would dislike. Martin would have spoken of it because he was Martin, open and soft and warm.

Zarrin gave Ian a knowing, surprisingly sharp, glance. “They don’t speak, but I can hear them,” he said instead of bringing Martin into the moment. “Do they speak to you?”

Ian shrugged. “Not in words.”

Zarrin straightened, impossibly tiny next to that redwood and barely reaching Ian’s shoulder. “Are they talking about me? Are they… happy?”

The insecurity in his voice was starkly evident. Ian heaved a sigh and tried looking away, but even if the trees didn’t chide him, Joe or Martin would have. “Happyis not an emotion for trees. But they aren’tunhappy.”

---