In Deeper Waters

by F.T. Lukens

He didn’t need to cry over odd boys who made him smile, then disappeared.

“I’m glad it was you because you’re still sniffling over that boy two days later.”

At least in Garrett’s stories Tal would be the hero, and not the villain he was so scared of becoming.

Who was this boy who valued sea glass the same as pearls and gold? Who was he to smile slyly and tease Tal and touch him casually and make his heart race?

She’d known about Tal even before he told her that he was attracted to the athletic squires and the beautiful ladies of the court and those who identified somewhere between.

How did the princess or the servant or the warrior always end up swooning in a lover’s arms? How did the right moment always find them between battles or after escape or right as the sun set? It all seemed ridiculous and farfetched and contrived. But he understood now—that moment of awakening, the heady rush of realization, and the beautiful ridiculousness of it.

He didn’t touch Tal unless he had to. He didn’t sleep next to him by the fire, opting to crawl as far away as possible and curl into himself. It was as if all the intimacy built between them in the shadows of the cove had disappeared once exposed to the inland sun. It hurt, and while on the surface Tal could attribute Athlen’s strange behavior to being in pain and away from his home, he couldn’t help but feel as if there was another reason lurking beneath Athlen’s forced smiles and distant stares.

“Can I touch you?” Tal asked, stepping closer. “Yes.” Tal wrapped his arms around Athlen’s shaking body and held on. “I’ve got you.” “I know.” His breath was cool on Tal’s neck. “For how long?” “Until you tell me to let go.”

Tal’s heart lurched. Athlen missed the sea. Tal was home in a castle made of stone.

“The world isn’t kind,” Tal said as Garrett held him at arm’s length, the flames of the torch flickering from the ground, casting them both in eerie shadows. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t be.”

Athlen’s smile trembled, and his eyes filled. “I want to be alone together with you.”

“You promised once”—Athlen’s lips grazed Tal’s cheek—“that you’d show me what the bed of a prince was like.” “I didn’t mean it like that.” Athlen smiled, coy yet fond, while he played with strands of Tal’s hair. “I did.” “Oh.” Tal’s blood thudded hot in his veins.

The alliance with Mysten through marriage had dissolved when the bastard daughter gave a resounding no to Garrett’s proposal and eloped with her handmaiden and her fencing instructor.

He was a prince of Harth. He was magic. He was loved by his family and by Athlen. He was the last mage, but he was not alone.