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This meeting at the Havenwrath party might account for the peculiar familiarity Thomas had felt when he’d first seen Cameron.
Not wanting to force the conversation, Thomas yielded and turned his focus toward unpacking and sorting his box. While he could not distinctly remember this winter solstice event, the encounter did not seem “insignificant,” as Cameron had starkly labeled it.
On the contrary, to Thomas, it seemed important. Not only did Cameron remember it well—the place, occasion and other atmospheric details—he remembered what Thomas hadsaid. Something within that meeting had left an impression on Cameron. Strong enough for him to intentionally arrange a bonding contract with Thomas several years later?
When Thomas had asked why he’d petitioned his fathers for this arrangement, Cameron had reasoned that Thomas might, quote, “at least have interesting things to say.”
That answer made more sense now.
Thomas wouldn’t press the conversation, lest he create undue stress and pressure for Cameron. Nonetheless, he wantedto keep this close to his chest and tucked away within himself. A small but weighted truth to contemplate and examine in his private musings.
Chapter Eleven
By his third week in the Ashford estate, Thomas had fallen into a comfortable routine. Most importantly, he noted, he no longer wished to erode into a cloud of dust.
Breakfast was usually brought to him in his room at first light. He assumed this to be an order from the lord of the manor, who likely didn’t want to be bothered with entertaining him so early in the morning. Thomas didn’t mind, though.
He enjoyed the tranquil ease of his slow, isolated mornings. Wiggling his feet into the velvet, fur-lined slippers he’d been provided, then donning his heavy matching robe to sit at the bistro table beside the window. He especially liked taking in the dreary, rain-soaked mornings through the glass while eating his warm, buttered and freshly baked muffin.
The bagged blood in the crystal goblet was… difficult. Increasingly, something in it made him nauseated. He shut his mind off and forced it down, though, because at least the taste of it was lovely (and unquestionably Cameron). It was a ridiculous mental hurdle he simply needed to get over.
Sometimes Cameron had errands, which he always attended to immediately following breakfast. When he didn’t have errands, they’d spend an hour or two together in the upperlibrary, sorting and chatting about whatever grabbed their attention. Sometimes they’d work in a comfortable silence, the only sound being the gentle pitter-patter of raindrops littering the circular window or the ghostly howl of the wind sweeping through the hills.
In the afternoons, Thomas would spend time in the lower library. Recently, he was readingCrime and Punishmentby Fyodor Dostoevsky. Another complex work of fiction with a plotline centered on revenge. Thomas sincerely commiserated with the book’s protagonist, Raskolnikov, and his desire to kill the pawnbroker for the betterment of society as a whole.
How much less suffering would occur in the southwestern realm if my elder father were dead?Thomas pondered. Surely enough to justify disposing of him entirely? Enough to absolve Thomas of the murderous and hypothetical crime itself?
Thomas had the will, but no way.
“Oh, what’s this?”
On one particular morning, Thomas reached the bottom of his storage box and found another box. This one was wooden, a perfect square, embellished with ivory stone designs around its sides.
Cameron glanced over from his position by one of the shelves. He was organizing a row of books there. “I had forgotten about that. It’s a chess set.”
“A chess set…” Using both hands, he carefully set the box before him on the floor, then lifted the top. The set was made of coral and black marble. He picked up a coral knight, examining it. The piece was smooth and weighted in his palms, and thestone’s natural swirls and veins gave the entire set a textured and beautiful finish.
“This set is stunning,” Thomas marveled, picking up another piece. “Why in heaven’s name is it in the bottom of this box?”
“Because no one wants to play,” Cameron said. He held a book in his hands and was casually flipping through its pages. Today’s cardigan was a deep mustard color with wooden toggles. Quietly, Thomas loved the way this man dressed. He had the body and stature of a Viking king but the stylish sensibility of a contemporary. A well-read sort who drank Italian coffee and had eclectic musical tastes. Cameron was always handsomely, comfortably tailored, whether he intended to leave the estate or not.
“I used to play with my mother—she taught me the game,” Cameron went on. “After she and Father left, I played with Rachelle, Lennon and the house staff occasionally, but after I beat them all mercilessly one too many times, they refused to play against me anymore.”
Thomas turned the black queen over in his hands. “I’ll play with you. Shall we set up a game tonight? After dinner?”
Cameron paused, clearly surprised by this offer. “Yes, we can do that…” He grinned, turning his attention back toward his book. “I must warn you, though, I’m very good.”
“Then I’ll look forward to the challenge.” Thomas set the queen back inside her designated spot within the velvet interior, then returned the lid and set the case aside. Quietly, he was feeling even more waifish than usual today. He was due to feed from the glass goblet, but wasnotlooking forward to it. “Is there another box that you’d like me to tackle today?”
Cameron gestured with his chin. “You can look inside this one here, at the edge of the carpet. I pulled it out for you in case you wanted to unpack it. We’re getting deeper into my father’sstrange knick-knacks, so I have no idea what’s inside. Probably nothing of interest.”
“How can you say that when I’ve just exhumed a stunning chess board? This room is a veritable treasure trove.” Thomas stood gingerly and stepped over the neat piles of papers, books and files to reach his new assignment.
“I beg to differ,” Cameron said, smiling. His grin suddenly faltered. “Are you alright today, Thomas?”
“Perfectly fine, thank you.” On his knees, Thomas opened the box and found it full of small books and trinkets. He reached inside and removed one book. The cover had an illustration of two gnomes with pointy red hats. One held a murderous-looking axe. “You mean to tell me that you have no interest in learning, quote,How to Survive a Garden Gnome Attack? You would dismiss such esteemed knowledge?”
Cameron groaned. “Oh God. How embarrassing.”
