Ink and Steel

Kit let his voice go low, but kept the banter in his tone for the sake of eavesdroppers. “It’s been a long time coming,” he said. “What does it entail? The overthrow of the Queen?”

“Nothing so dire,” the stag answered, just as soft. “Merely a little magic. Which you well began in song already, I wot.”

“Why now? Why not last year, or the year before?”

The stag arched his head, observing the musicians and Will both through the advantage of his wide-spaced eyes. “You’re reclaiming yourself at last. You show you are a man of loyalty, once that loyalty is won.”

“I wouldn’t be so hasty as to think so. I’ve never been known for choosing sides based on anything other than expedience.”

“Haven’t you? You’ve been careful not to choose, here, Sir Christofer. It has not gone unnoticed that you share your gifts between factions, and permit none of them, quite, to claim you.”

Kit caught himself chewing a thumbnail, made himself stop and tuck his hands inside crossed arms. “What can you offer me that Morgan can’t, or, failing that, the Mebd?”

“Freedom,” Geoffrey answered, the sunlight shining on the silver-gray patches where his antlers would grow come the fall. His wet nose quivered softly. “If you like.”

Kit felt Puck’s curious eyes on him when he reached out and eased the flower from Geoffrey’s hoof. He crushed it in his hand, satiny moisture and a violet stain, that vanished when he brushed the ruined remains on the raven’s-wing velvet of his doublet. “We’ll talk again,” he said, and nodded once before he walked away.

Leaning against a marble satyr, Kit folded his arms and watched Cairbre and the towering Amaranth show Will the esoteric fingerings of a silver Faerie flute. He covered a momentary pang of jealousy with an idle smile. Give him his glory: a poet in Faerie.Kit laughed silently. If Orfeo stole his lover back from the Faerie king, what does that make of me, having done the reverse?A moment before the fallacy sank in and his mouth twisted in bitter whimsy rather than humor.

That is to say, if I had any claim on him at all. Mayhap Annie can come steal him back from me, and keep the legend intact.He sighed and looked down at his hands. Most men are married,he reminded himself. It is the custom of the age. And what of you, Sir Christofer?

Ah, the unanswerable questions. He straightened and left Will there, slipping through the glass door to the garden. Gravel settled under his boots; the scent of roses overwhelmed the sticky, lingering perfume of the crushed blossom upon Kit’s skin. Kit turned his face to the sky, reveling in the warming sunlight. He recognized the step on the walk behind him and didn’t turn to face who came. A warm breeze lifted Kit’s hair; a warm hand followed it, stroking the nape of his neck.

“Wanton.” A whisper against his ear.

“Murchaud.”

“Sweet Christofer. Your friend has charmed the court already.” Kit bit his tongue on his first reply and forced his manner to calm.

“He’s for the ladies, lover.”

“Poor Kit, that he should disappoint thee so. And more fool he.” Murchaud knotted a hand in Kit’s fine, full hair and turned his head to kiss him on the mouth. Kit fairly burned with unexpected shame, knowing the embrace plainly visible from within the conservatory. Knowing Will would think Kit had abandoned him among strangers to go out to his lover.

A Prince’s licentious favorite. Ganymede, indeed. Even if he were so given, how could he ever believe thy love more than this travesty? Tom did.

Murchaud spoke against his ear. “You re thinking.”

“Aye.” Kit cast about for the plausible lie, hesitated. Drew back enough to look Murchaud in the face when he spoke.

“The Mebd.”

“Aye.”

“What do you think I owe her, Murchaud?” He turned as he spoke and strode slowly along the path, leading Murchaud among the roses and their lesser brethren.

“Aside from your life?”

“She’s got payment in service for that,” Kit answered. “And surely I owe your mother as much.”

“Aye.” Murchaud cocked his head to follow the flitting progress of an exaltation of larks. His right hand rested possessively on Kit’s elbow.

“Everyone pushes me in one direction or another, Murchaud. As if the whole world held its breath, waiting to see which way I’ll bend. And yet I feel I am not vouchsafed information enough to do so intelligently.” Kit kicked at the gravel.

They came beside a path of cypresses. Kit did not remember having gone this way before.

“And when you chose for England and her Queen, what details were you vouchsafed then?”