Chapter 9: The Brother

Heldon stirred, feeling warmer and more comfortable than he ever had. A heaviness draped over his side, anchoring him to the bed. If it wasn’t for the pounding headache in his temples, and dying of thirst, he would’ve laid in bed forever.

Heldon opened an eye and spotted a nightstand he didn’t recognize. The tavern.

His pulse cranked up, fully awake. The heaviness on Heldon was actually a tan arm. The blood froze his heart into a glacier.

He didn’t!

Inch by inch, Heldon slinked out from under the well-toned arm and out of the bed.

Even though he had no shirt, he still had his pants on. Good. His hair was loose, swishing across his lower back as he looked for his things. He saw his shirt, his saber, and his boots near a wooden armchair in the corner of the room.

Tival lay shirtless, exposed in the bed. Heldon could make out more than a dozen violent scars ripping through his muscular back. By comparison, Tival’s lax face was impossibly peaceful, his thick eyelashes resting on his high cheekbones.

Heldon slept with Tival.

Heldon tried to remember…

***

LAST NIGHT

Heldon sat beside Tival on a barstool, his head leaning on his hand which was propped on the bar.

“In all my travels, and I’ve traveled a lot, I’ve never met someone as…confusing you,” Tival said, voice warm like honey.

Heldon pulled a face.

“I’m not confusing. You’re just…bad at reading me. That’s your problem.” Heldon slurred his words, noticing his glass was empty.

“I thought I read you just fine in the carriage, till you ran out of it like it was on fire. I don’t know how you see me.” Tival smirked and wiggled his stupidly thick eyebrows.

Heldon lolled his head, scoffing…well…ok. Maybe he did freak out a little back in the carriage.

An idea flashed through his head – impulsive, reckless, and daring.

Everything he usually wasn’t.

Heldon swerved his upper body upright and hoisted himself from his own barstool to perch himself in Tival’s lap. He eased himself down, drilling his eyes into Tival’s.

The open look of shock on his bronze face was worth his vulnerability.

“I think that you’re my envoy, and you shouldn’t leave me behind.” Heldon’s heart still lay swollen and wet in his chest at the thought of Tival going off to that werewolf estate without him.

“Who said anything about leaving you behind?” Tival blinked, concern darkening his features. “Is this about the werewolf estate? Is this why didn’t you didn’t even speak a word the whole time?” Tival called him out, guessing too close to the source. Heldon thought he had been right about Tival, that he couldn’t read him. But maybe he was wrong.

Like he was playing a card game he was going to lose but had already bet everything he had.

“I’m not a knight, I’m just a negotiator.” Heldon looked away, fighting the sour taste rising to the back of his throat. He couldn’t tell if it was real, or just the consequences of speaking his weaknesses.

Tival took Heldon’s chin in his hand and dipped it down.

“Humans tend to define themselves by their professions, don’t you think it’s a bit limiting? Don’t you want more?” Tival purred beneath him and all he wanted to do was to kiss him deeply in the middle of this crowded tavern.

“Yeah.” The room tilted and he swayed. Tival steadied him.

“Then, I won’t let anyone stop you from going where you want. Especially if it’s with me.” Tival’s smile revealed his fangs. Now that Heldon could really see them, they weren't as long as a typical vampire’s but still sparked danger. He wanted to run his tongue across their points.

Instead, nausea punched him in the stomach, and he hopped off Heldon to run outside to retch.

***

His skin flushed crimson from his neck to the tips of his ears.

Heldon did the only thing he could do – grabbed his shirt and his boots and ran. His heart beat like a rabbit’s in his neck as he tugged everything on and raced down the stairs of the tavern. If he got home now, maybe he could pretend it never happened.

He was no sooner out the door when a familiar face stopped Heldon dead in his tracks, hair flinging.

“Hel, you got a lot of expl—what happened to your neck?! Where’s your jacket?” Erik, in full dress blues, beckoned from the road, cobalt eyes buzzing like hornets. The early morning sun gleamed off his brother’s gelled hair.

He did not have the energy for this.

“Erik, just…don’t. I’m going home.” Heldon had a hand to his head and one out to placate his brother. He knew his brother was going to berate him, but he just wanted to be home when it happened.

“Are you hungover?! What happened at Opalgate? Did a vampire feed on you? Sun forbid one mark you, or your days of being a negotiator are finished.” Erik exclaimed.

“No vampire marked me. I…it’s a long story that I’ll tell you about if we leave now.” Heldon emphasized the word now with a shout. He tried to pull his younger brother along with him, but Erik shoved him back.

“Who are you running from?” Erik sometimes knew Heldon better than he knew himself.

As if on cue, Tival bolted out of the Tavern with his hair sticking up and his shirt misbuttoned. Tival dodged the strong morning light, ducking under a tree for the shade. He scanned the street until he found what he was looking for – Heldon.

They locked eyes like someone sewed a thread between them.

A breeze blew between them, floating Heldon’s long hair.

“Your hair is down…” Tival blinked, lips parted, transfixed on Heldon. “Why did you run? I can explain, please.” Tival’s voice pitched high as if injured.

“I…” Heldon’s reply caught in his throat because the sun dappled Tival golden and green just like when they first met. “...don’t—I can’t remember it,” Heldon murmured. He felt cracked open and exposed, like a broken treasure box.

“Who in the infernal are you?” Erik’s diamond-shaped magic mark glowed on his neck when he pointed at Tival. Tival’s eyes blanked, and he turned to his brother.

“My name is Tival Acera. I’m a drampire, an illegitimate son of a vampire lord and a dryad priestess, and appointed to be Opalgate’s envoy. I don’t trust my half-sister, but I trust a brunet I met just recently. ” Tival responded in an empty tone. It frightened Heldon, because Tival was a private person and in one sentence he revealed some deep secrets about himself.

“Erik, stop that!” Heldon yanked his brother’s arm down, but he just shoved him aside again.

“What did you do to my brother?” Erik used his magic again.

“Nothing I haven’t done before," Tival half shrugged, "or wouldn’t do again.” Tival deadpanned. Heldon wanted the earth to open up and bury him. Was he just some casual fling to him? A game?

“This is a huge invasion of privacy!” Heldon yanked his brother’s arm, knocking him a bit off balance.

“What is my brother to you?” Erik spoke every word like a stone thrown into a lake.

“...a captivating weakness,” Tival answered. Heldon couldn’t breathe, his lungs burned like hot iron.

So, that's all he was to him. Heldon was such a fool for expecting more. His throat swelled wet.

“You filthy night-loving handler! My brother is not your feeder.” Erik’s voice could melt glass and Heldon shoved his brother down to the grass.

“He’s not and never will be my handler. And I don’t need you fighting my battles for me! This isn’t even a battle,” Heldon yelled, blinking back pricks of tears. Then Shrai came out of the tavern.

“Oh, now this is juicy,” Shrai grinned.

Erik was temporarily distracted and Heldon pulled his brother up.

“I have to tell you something about father, but not out here!” Heldon’s blood charged through his temples. Erik dusted himself off and he followed Heldon around the corner before his magic wore off on Tival.

“You owe me an explanation about Opalgate, and why there is another horse in our stables!” Erik demanded, blue eyes dark.

Heldon had forgotten about the new horse.

Heldon explained everything that happened in Opalgate to his brother, excluding the magic forest healing, Tival leaving him, Tival kissing him, Tival holding him, Tival sleeping, just sleeping, with him.

His heart wrenched down, small and hard.

“So, you’re telling me Ryce, who by the way is Lord Dastris’ confidant, killed our father? They’re still in Opalgate, they’re due to leave tonight.” Erik’s blue eyes darted the way he did when he was planning something intricate.

“How do you know that about Ryce, and how do you know they’re leaving tonight?” Heldon asked.

“Janz wrote to you, concerned that you may be in Opalgate during their peace talks. Your best friend had good reason to be concerned. He said he’d be headed back to Kalent soon.” Erik admitted to opening and reading his personal mail, but Heldon gave it a pass.

Janz, his best friend, was coming back after two long years. If anyone could help him to make sense of the sticky tangle of his life, it’d be him. Maybe he could even help him train with his new shield…wait.

“Erik, you are not thinking about going to Opalgate.” The hairs pricked up on the back of Heldon’s neck.

“We have two horses now, but we still need to leave by noon to ambush Ryce in the forest before he reaches Steelpoint territory. We’ll need to pick up some stakes, crucifixes, holy water, and torches.” Erik began to actually list things as a part of his incredulous plan and Heldon smacked him in the chest.

“We can’t go up against them! I barely survived my first attack, and Ryce played that vampire for a child! You even just used all your magic today!” Heldon’s eyes blew out wide in terror.

“I’ll finish what you started, just like I said I would before you left. You can’t stop me. So, you can either come with me or stay behind and feed your new handler.” Heldon’s headache throbbed again, his brother could be such a nail in his foot. Though he was right, he couldn't stop him; they couldn’t use their magic on each other.

Heldon knew why his brother was this difficult though. It was because Erik didn’t trust him to protect their family after their father was killed. Heldon would be affirming those fears if he let his brother go alone.

Heldon’s mind flashed to a memory of crimson eyes burning through his own, claws tearing through his hair, tongue sliding on his neck, fangs pricking on his pulse point. No air flowing in his lungs. No hoping for rescue.

Heldon’ couldn’t let that happen to his little brother.

“Fine, I’m in, but if we survive this, you’re apologizing to Tival. He saved me and look, see? No bite marks.” Heldon held out his bruised throat and Erik huffed, irritated.

“I’ll apologize only because you got us another horse from that lecherous scumbag, Garrett. I know that something happened between you and that drampire. If he tries anything again, I’ll stake him. No one disgraces our family.” Erik cracked his knuckles. Only his brother could be so close to saying something thoughtful but twist it into something thoughtless.

He didn’t envy the woman his brother would marry.

“Ok, let’s just go home. I need to wash up.” and Heldon couldn’t face down Tival right now. He didn’t know where to start, he didn’t know what to say. There was so much he had to ask and tell him that it dammed up in his head like a murky sludge.

But Heldon was crystal clear on one thing – he wasn't inviting Tival to their family suicide mission.