Nicholas stared at William’s back walking beneath the shade of evergreens. The vexatious medic had avoided conversation for over a day, ever since the affair in the hot spring. Moments Nicholas couldn’t get off his mind. William’s heat, his shivering skin, even that damn scent of disinfectant that somehow followed him here. The man stirred a ravenous craving within Nicholas that nothing could snuff out, further coaxed by his prolonged silence. Even when he spoke of vicious fun, recounting tales of horror, William kept silent. He didn’t offer the fae a glimpse. He wanted those eyes upon him. Always. It was utterly sickening.

“Are you certain that you know where you are going?” Charmaine asked from where she clutched William’s side.

The two were almost inseparable. Though Nicholas knew the humans huddled to share warmth and assist in their minor injuries, his irritation didn’t fade. He wanted his hands on William instead. Clutching those strong arms, sliding nimble fingers along the scars of his back and clutching his waist. Nicholas’ fingers flexed, recalling the intoxicating sensation that drove his mind wild. Evoking reactions similar to the other day, a moment of panic or anger set upon normally calm features, that was the fun of the game.

“Did you not hear our stories the other evening?” Arden replied from where he led the group. His voice broke Nicholas of his stupor. “Faerie changes constantly. How do you suppose we survive in lands like that?”

“Answer the damn question.” Charmaine earned a raised brow from William, though he said nothing. The two were fed and remained crabby. That appeared to be a normal state for humans.

“We do not seek locations. We seek items or people,” Nicholas explained. He got Charmaine’s gaze, but not William’s. He stifled a snarl.

“People carry familiar scents that we can track. It is easy out here where there is little else to smell than sulfur,” Arden added.

And musk, Nicholas thought. Even after their bath, a musky aroma lingered. The Deadlands liked to mark its territory.

“Among one of your cities would be more difficult,” Arden continued. “And we attune ourselves to the sound of items we carry. A music box who’s song we hear when we truly listen and leads us home.”

“If that is true, why can’t any of you find Fearworn?” Charmaine asked. “He must have a scent or an item someone knows to follow.”

“Do you honestly believe Fearworn doesn’t have spells to cover all that?” Arden scoffed.

Charmaine spoke momentarily with William then meandered forward to join Arden.

“Can you sense how far we are from the army?” she asked.

“Tonight may be our last evening alone in the woods,” Arden replied, and the two fell into further discussions. Mostly Charmaine asking about more specifics on how fae track. This gave him a chance to speak with William alone. And he took it.

The medic didn’t give Nicholas the attention he craved when he settled beside him. Their companion’s whispers and crunching of snow beneath William’s boots kept them company. Nicholas’ gaze swept over William’s paled complexion, the one that remained dark since the hot springs. He struck a chord, unintentionally. An unusual situation for he typically struck chords on purpose. He wanted to agitate William, but he wanted the medic to fight, not crumble into this shell. A place of silence and disinterest that stole that fight from his eyes. Nicholas could not lie, William was interesting. Defiant. Vexing. And hiding more than he let on.

“Do you wish to know where the men are, who touched me last without my consent?”

William let that slip. He regretted it. Nicholas didn’t. He kept prodding that armor, watching the cracks grow along the seams. Every knick brought him closer to victory, to flames growing hotter and he wanted them to burn together.

“Why not take this chance to leave?” Nicholas asked, attempting to strike up conversation. William walked a little faster. Nicholas matched his pace. “You spoke of mortals drafting their military. You did not join of your own volition. Why not take this opportunity to escape? Have your friend lie that you died during the attack and go home.”

He received it; attention. A glimpse from the corner of William’s eyes, then shifted away.

“This will be a repeat of the village. I will continue speaking, regardless of you ignoring me,” he said, taking a chance to shuffle closer.

William huffed and moved forward.

“Your family must miss you,” Nicholas added, knowing that got William to react before. “You can see them again.”

“You understand nothing,” William replied. A flush crept along his neck to his cheeks that had nothing to do with the cold. “What happens when the Generals ask you and Arden what became of me? The military will learn the truth and I will be labeled a deserter.”

“And that is bad?”

“Yes. Fae have their oaths, so do humans. I’ll be hunted down and hanged for abandoning the kingdom, for going against that damn treaty. Deserting will be the reason I never see my family again.”

“Then don’t see them. Run. Live wherever you please.”

William scoffed. “Like I said, you understand nothing.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“Why?” William ran a hand through his hair, huffing. “Why are you bothering me?”

“I told you, you’re interesting.”

“I wish I wasn’t. I wish you’d find another way to placate your boredom.”

“How unfortunate for you that you are stuck with me.”

They fell into silence. Not what Nicholas wanted. Fae were easier to converse with. They always wanted to. Always waiting for a moment to strike. Fae liked the game, the pressure and the rush of causing discomfort. Humans did not share such beliefs, which was a huge reason they were normally so boring. They cowered too quickly or got caught in webs of lies with ignorant smiles on their faces. They didn’t dodge as well as William.

“You care about them, your family?” Nicholas asked.

“Of course. They’re family.” William cast a pitiful stare his way “Right. You don’t care about yours.”

“Of course not. My siblings have attempted to murder me on numerous occasions.”

William stopped, so did Nicholas. The medic donned a wide-eyed expression, then pinched his lips together. “I should have expected as such, but why?”

“To take my place. As a Shade, I am the right hand to my father, who they rightfully assumed to be more difficult to kill.”

With furrowed brows, William started walking again. Nicholas kept to his side.

“And they want to kill him, too, for what reason?” he asked.

“To become Lord of Darkmoon. That is how titles are passed. Whoever kills the previous Lord takes their place. In fact, that’s how one of my older brothers was named.”

William’s perplexed expression stated Nicholas needed to elaborate.

“Solomon, named after the previous Lord of Darkmoon.”

“Are all of you named after someone your parents killed?”

“Exactly!” Nicholas clapped, excited that the mortal had caught on so swiftly. “Oh, mortals have such boring reasons for naming their children, after an ancestor or frivolous meanings. My father disemboweled a Nicholas foolish enough to make a deal with him during the initial years of the Collision and thus that name passed on to me!”

William didn’t appear to find the tale as interesting as Nicholas. As a child, he asked his father to tell him the story of how he got his name many times. Though Laurent didn’t always share, the moments when he did were a joy. Back then, he viewed his father as the best trickster the realms had ever known and envied such talents. By now, he had come to despise them.

“I cannot comprehend the strange ways fae think,” William muttered. “Naming their children after those they killed is…odd.”

“As if humans are not any more odd,” Nicholas argued.

“And what do we do that you consider odd?”

“I have an endless list, but for starters, you claim us cruel and yet live in a world where you deny others the very world around you. Food grows on your trees and in your fields, but there are those claiming those trees to be theirs, so others cannot eat the fruit. Houses sit empty, unused, but people sleep in the cold and stifling heat. This does not happen in Faerie. You eat the food you find. You live in the empty houses or build your own. My father may lord over Darkmoon but any fae may build a home and call it their own, so yes, I find mortals odd.”

William’s shoulders slumped. “I won’t deny that I find it odd, too.”

“Another thing we have in common.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“And then there are the medics trained to heal but they take lives instead.” Nicholas smirked when William cracked his neck to the side. He never missed Nicholas’ true intentions. “Do you find that peculiar as well?”

“Speak your mind honestly, you rat bastard,” William growled.

“You complain of fae killing others yet you’ve killed humans before, haven’t you?”

“A bold claim.”

“That you can easily lie against, but you let it slip.” Nicholas leaned in. He caught the scent of pine and snow, the essence of winter itself settled atop William’s skin. He wore the chill like armor, settled into the deep jade of his eyes. “The men who hurt you, you slayed them yourself, didn’t you?”

William maintained an emotionless expression best, better than any could ever hope. A blistering storm that Nicholas wanted nothing more than to challenge. To break.

“Were they the only ones? Come now,” Nicholas purred. “No one is listening.”

“Why do you want to know?” William stopped only to grasp the neckline of Nicholas’ blouse. He gripped so tightly the lining nearly choked a breath from the fae. “Hoping to lie to the Generals that I am a murderer so they can arrest me?”

“No, I just love getting a reaction out of you.”

His eyes darkened and he shoved Nicholas aside.

“Find someone else to get a reaction out of,” William snapped, then hurried after Arden and Charmaine. The two had gotten further ahead than either realized.

Nicholas held out his hands and spun in a dozen circles. “There is no else here as fun as you.”

“Then spare me until we return to camp where you can find another there.”

“I doubt there is anyone in this world as entertaining as you, my wicked.”

William turned on him. His brow wrinkled like an old hag’s leathered neck. “Your wicked?”

Nicholas grinned. “My wicked.”

“I think the fuck not.” He walked faster.

Nicholas cackled. He skipped ahead of William, walking backwards so they were eye to eye. “What ever is the matter? The pet name is rather fitting for you, don’t you agree?”

“I don’t want a pet name from you.”

“But I like it and you don’t, which gives me more reason to use it.”

“You are fucking insufferable,” William growled and that fed into the spark that raged into a flame in Nicholas’ chest. He had the medic’s undivided attention and relished in it, but he hadn’t the opportunity to conjure another response. A pressure like he had never felt carried over the wind, faster and faster. The trees creaked and cracked, bending at odd angles against the gale. Sulfur and musk stole the senses.

Nicholas released a slow, excited exhale. “He’s here.”

A shroud of darkness moved ever closer. That shroud encased the forest. Lightning shrieked through the mist, aggressive and blinding. Out of that darkness, a fae approached. Tall and long limbed with eyes of vicious violet. He held out a hand, nails like daggers. Monsters burst forth from the cloud. His voice, smoother than silk, carried over their growls, “You have something that belongs to me.”

Calix Fearworn had found them.