Page 8 of By Mistake
"There's a wife-beater I'd like to have a private conversation with."
"Splendid.Lead the way."
Three
Andrus walked home slowly, exhausted and sore.He hadn't been able to find steady work, as usual, but he'd found stables to muck, dishes to wash, and shipments to load and unload.Every muscle in his body screamed from the agony of being pushed too far, and his stomach was eating a hole in itself, but there was also money in his pocket.An inner pocket, where no footpad or well-paid servant sent to rough him up would easily be able to reach—if they noticed it at all, thanks to the magic he'd placed on it, over hours of careful, measured work to make certain there was no mistake.
If he was caught using magic, it would be all over, but the money was important enough to take the risk, and so he'd done it.Months ago now, so it would need to be renewed soon, but that was a problem for later in the week.
For the present, he had money enough to buy some necessities and maybe even one or two splurges, like fabric if he got lucky with the scrap bins.Or he could go to the second-hand shop and buy new shoes!Well, new for him, but anything was better than his single pair on the verge of falling apart once and for all.
He hummed as he walked, tenuously happy for the first time since that awful day in the market.
It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he'd likely see Oresti at some point this evening.He didn't come every day, but he came most of them, sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes long enough to share a meal.Andthe stubborn bastard kept bringing him more food, and he'd had more firewood delivered than Andrus even knew what to do with.
His pride chafed at needing so much help, at accepting it, but he also actuallysleptwhen he was full and warm and not worried to death about everything.He was still going to be on the streets soon, but until then, he'd live in the most comfort he'd had since well before his parents died.
The house came into view, and he quickened his step, eager to be cleaned and fed and ready should Oresti appear.Not that he was stupid enough to think anything would come of this…arrangement or whatever it was they had…but he had been infatuated with Oresti for ages.Was it so awful of him to enjoy the man's company, his attention, for as long as possible?He wasn't a fool.Eventually Oresti would get bored, or distracted, or permanently called away, and that would be that.Or Andrus would finally be thrown out on the streets, his family home claimed by Lord Jackass, and Oresti wouldn't bother to find him.
No, he wasn't going to ruin his good mood.Shoving away all the miserable thoughts and fears for the morrow, he looped around to the back of the house and let himself into the kitchen.
Where he was greeted by the sight of a beautiful basket on the kitchen island.Had Oresti picked the lock to leave it inside?Andrus huffed.Of course he had.Brat.
Curious and more excited than was smart, Andrus removed the cloth covering the contents—and didn't notice when it slipped from his fingers as surprise took him.Wine, and not a cheap bottle either, but the kind of good wine he'd never had in his life but which his parents had talked about sometimes with longing in their voices.All Andrus drank was cheap beer on the rare occasion he could justify the purchase.The only glass of wine he'd ever had had been cheap and sour.
Nestled in the basket around the wine was also a block of cheese, a beautiful loaf of crusty bread, jars of olives and pickles, a cut of dry cured ham, and a box from a bakery he'd never heard of.
Andrus's face went hot.Why would Oresti give him something like this?This was the sort of basket one brought along to spend an afternoon with their lover in the park or by the lake.This was acourtingbasket, and there was no way in the world Oresti wanted to court a loser who couldn't take care of himself properly and cried over dropped turnips and mud-soaked bread.
He couldn't help but linger on the fantasy, though.Walking arm in arm with Oresti through Magnolia Park, enjoying the food as they relaxed and talked, maybe sneaking off to a secluded area to steal a few kisses.
May as well dream about being a royal prince, if he was going to spin fantasies of absolute nonsense.
Sighing, he took the basket into the pantry, and got out what he would need to make a simple dinner, rice with vegetables and mushrooms, a couple of slices of bread that he decided to be extravagant with, adding butter and toasting them with cheese.
He'd gotten about halfway through the meal when the dreaded ringing came from the front door.Of fucking course Farthing couldn't leave him alone for one night.Sighing, he set his food on the stovetop to keep warm and then wended through the house to the front door.The bruise from their last encounter was long gone, thanks to Oresti, but Farthing would probably be giving him fresh ones because the man could not take no for an answer and was certain that assault would get him his way where money and threats did not.
Andrus was lucky that all Farthing had done so far was knock him around.If he ever decided to simply take what he wanted, there wasn't much Andrus would be able to do to stop him.The only thing that had protected him so far was Farthing's own ego, which wanted Andrus to give up, give in.Surrender, helpless and hopeless and afraid.
He'd be waiting forever, because Andrus would slice open his own guts and die lying in them before he gave in toanythingto do with Farthing.
Yanking the door open, he glared, but before he could begin their usual exchange of hostilities, Farthing lunged forward, catching him full in the face, shattering his nose and sending him crashing to the ground.
He was still lying prone, reeling in pain, when Farthing yanked him up by his blood-soaked shirt and shoved him into the nearest wall.One of the worst things about Farthing was that he was absolutely beautiful.Moon pale skin, night black hair, pale silver-green eyes, a willowy frame that belied a surprising strength.Unfortunately, like so many other beautiful things, he was poisonous to the touch.
"How did you do it?"Farthing snarled."How!If you seek to play games with me, boy, you will find yourself the loser."
"I don't—" Andrus sobbed as Farthing jostled him, sending fresh pain shooting through his nose, his entire face.His eyes were blurry, and he couldn't breathe properly, could only taste blood."I don't know what you're talking about," he finally managed, though the words came out garbled and he wasn't remotely certain that Farthing had understood them.
Farthing let him go to collapse on the floor, then knelt in front of him."Lies.There's no way you just 'don't know what I'm talking about' when you just paid thousands of sels for your neglected taxes.Tell me how you did it, or I'll just buy the fucking house when it goes to auction at your death."
Andrus laugh-cried."I spent my whole day washing dishes and moving sacks of flour, Farthing."He coughed and spat blood."I haven't paid for anything but food, like usual.My biggest aspiration was to buy some fabric scraps for new clothes or maybe a new pair of secondhand shoes.What are you on about?"
A hand fisted painfully tight in his hair and yanked his head up."Tell me the truth."
"I am!"Andrus said, and screamed as Farthing backhanded him, collapsing on the ground in his own blood, holding his hands gingerly over his aching face, trying not to cry because that made it all worse.
Farthing loomed over him, and Andrus did not like the look on his face one bit.He'd always been frightening, but usually it was negligible, something Andrus could grit his teeth through as he pushed back against Farthing's threats.Right now, he was terrified to the bone.If Farthing only killed him, that would be the closest to kindness that Farthing had ever come.
