Thar and his group of mortals dispatched of the few demons that had been unable to run away so fast that D’Argen had yet to ready another arrow. He was distracted.

“Fifty steps out, then return if nothing,” Thar called out the order.

The mortals around him acknowledged him with nods and then all darted off. Thar, however, remained. His ice took him to the canyon ground not too far from D’Argen. Instead of going to him, or even looking at him, Thar knelt near the dead body. He touched their neck to check for a pulse, then yanked the arrows that were inside their body.

“Thar,” D’Argen dared to finally breathe out his name. “You’re here.”

Thar did not look at him as he folded the dead mortal’s arms on their chest and then bent lower. He only looked at D’Argen once he hoisted the body in his arms and stood up.

“Tell Acela the rumours are true. We have been chasing down that group for over a month now,” he said and turned to walk away.

That…

That was it?!

D’Argen rushed his steps to catch up to Thar. As soon as he had a hand on the man’s arm, Thar stepped away and finally faced him properly. With a glare. D’Argen took a cautious step back. The air around him felt so cold that his breath misted in front of his face.

“Thar. It’s me… do you…”

“D’Argen, right?” Thar asked, his glare not softening and his voice so cold. “You are here to deliver a message?”

“I… uhh…” D’Argen hesitated. There was no recognition in Thar’s eyes. There was no… only now that he knew how Thar felt about him, now that he knew what Thar looked like without feeling that way, did he realize that in his other memories, Thar had always loved him. Now… now it felt like he was looking at a complete stranger. And that stranger probably considered him less than the demons he just slew.

“Yes,” he firmed his words and tried to straighten his back. His hand was itching to hold a new bottle and his throat was too dry. “Do you have someone named Riss in your company?” D’Argen asked, trying to recall the woman’s full name.

Thar looked over D’Argen’s shoulder. D’Argen quickly turned to glance over, but saw nothing. Thar was not looking at him for some reason. D’Argen shifted to be in the man’s eyeline twice before Thar finally stopped looking away.

“Riss? Her mother asks for her. From Haruba. Haroti.”

“Hotori,” Thar corrected him before D’Argen could butcher it again. “Yes. What of her?”

“I have a letter.” D’Argen drew out the letter like it was some sort of shield. When Thar’s eyes landed on it, he felt like he could take a slightly deeper breath.

“This way.” Thar motioned with his head and continued his earlier walk.

Barely a dozen steps out and two of the mortals from before joined them.

“Caught one more, but the rest slipped away,” one of them reported and eyed D’Argen. “It’s still that same one as before. The blonde. She is leading them.”

Thar hummed in reply.

“There was less this time too,” the other reported. He made a show of circling D’Argen and eyeing him from head to toe at least three times. “Maybe we can finally catch up to them and finish them off this time?” he jogged to walk beside Thar, probably dismissing D’Argen as unimportant.

Thar once more hummed.

Another two dozen steps through the winding canyon and three more mortals returned and reported much the same. By the time they made it to a small cave, there were a dozen mortals. Another three were already waiting for them at the cave.

“We found Mayan,” Thar announced and deposited the body from his arms gently onto the ground. “Riss. Your mother has a message for you.”

D’Argen took his cue and turned to the woman that was looking at him. She was the only one of the three who did not get up to greet the others or look at the body.

“What is it?” she asked and motioned to D’Argen. “Come here, I can’t get up yet.”

“Actually, since you are here with a message, you may as well take her home.”

D’Argen did not realize the words were meant for him until Riss started swearing up a storm at Thar.

“I can still fight!” she finished off.

“Not on that leg, you can’t,” one of her companions came up behind her and forcefully pushed her down when she tried to get up.

“I can still shoot my bow. You need an archer. You need my eyes,” Riss argued.

“We have talked about this,” Thar’s voice softened when he spoke to the mortals in a way that D’Argen intimately recognized.

“We are almost done here. Go home. Heal. We’ll find you when we get back,” another of the mortals from their group said. “We can make do without your bow for now.”

“Oh? And if they pierce you with those poisoned tips? Is that how Mayan fell?”

“It was a trap. Mayan was close to death when—D’Argen, was it?—when D’Argen tripped it. Your mahee? Is it sound?” the man who spoke started circling D’Argen slowly.

“Speed,” D’Argen replied on automatic. “Riss. Your mother is worried for you.” D’Argen finally remembered his task and handed her the letter. “I can take you home in a day. Bring you to the best healers in Evadia. You will be up and running in no time.”

A subtle shake of the head from Thar had D’Argen hesitating. As Riss opened the letter to read it, D’Argen finally looked her over carefully. Her leg… there was no running for her again. There was no blood, but the twist of her knee and ankle both were unnatural. How she was not screaming in pain was a wonder.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

D’Argen was subtle when he nudged her boot with his own and she did not respond. That was how. D’Argen had seen what paralysis could do to a mortal. He had seen how many warriors it sent into the bottle when they could not fight anymore. But he had also seen the fake limbs Upates and his artificers had made recently. She would not run, but at least she could walk. Eventually.

Once Riss was done reading the letter, her eyes were wet.

D’Argen did not know what Acela had written, but the scent of her mahee was still stuck to the paper.

“Will you go home?” one of the mortals asked, his voice soft.

Riss nodded and brushed under her eyes quickly though no tears had fallen. Then she hesitated and said, “But you still need my bow.”

“I can take you home and be back before next sunrise,” D’Argen said with a confirmation. When she looked at him skeptically, he patted his folded up bow by his hip. “I may not be as good a shot as you, but my eyes see a lot too.”

Riss seemed convinced even if the others did not. Especially Thar.

“Can you carry her the whole way?” one of the mortals asked. Another started packing a bag. A third unpacked another bag and took out scrolls of paper.

“Anybody want to send messages home?” he asked and shook a small jar of ink. The rest went up to him so he could pen their responses.

Without hearing the man, Thar was suddenly right beside D’Argen. “You do not have to return,” Thar said.

“I know. I want to,” D’Argen replied with a smile. Thar’s gaze did not soften as D’Argen had hoped. Instead, it turned even more skeptical than earlier.

D’Argen, however, knew that Thar loved him. More than a comrade in arms, more than a Never Born loved another, and more than the mortals that travelled with him now. D’Argen would find a way to bring that back. So many of the mortal stories talked about love and how it solved so many of their problems. For D’Argen, it usually caused more than it solved. Still, this was one love he was willing to fight for. He wanted it back.

Once Riss and the letters were ready, D’Argen picked her up carefully and left the cave. He would find the others easily. Running Riss back to Evadia took all his willpower to run slow. It was easier, knowing the white that awaited him if he sped up too much, knowing that she would get hurt if he ran too fast, but his feet were itching to turn back to Thar. His mahee was singing.

Dropping Riss off at the healers in Evadia with strict instructions for someone to find her mother and bring her in was easy. Dropping off the letters from the others for them to find their way to their families was even easier. Waiting for Acela to think over his words as he told her of the demons he encountered was so hard. He wanted to jump out her balcony to run back to Thar.

“If you could—”

“I promised I’d go back,” he interrupted her when it sounded like she would give him new instructions. “To Thar. His team. They are a warrior short.”

Acela did not look convinced. Nor did she look happy. D’Argen eyed the crystal decanter on her desk and the amber liquid inside it. Acela noticed his eyes and smoothly picked the bottle up and put it out of sight.

“Go,” she said.

D’Argen grinned and ran before she could change her mind. As the master manipulator, Acela did not realize how easy it was to manipulate her sometimes.

He ran without stopping, turned the world such a light grey that his teeth started aching from clenching his jaw so tight, but he made it back to the canyon. Thar and his group had not left the cave yet. Some of them. When D’Argen walked in, he was greeted with two raised swords and Thar’s cold presence.

“Stand down,” Thar ordered the mortals, even though they had both seen D’Argen before. “That was fast.”

“I am the fastest thing in all of Trace,” D’Argen boasted.

Thar hummed and looked away.

So, it was not his powers that had impressed Thar in the past. D’Argen had no clue what made the man fall in love with him in his other memories. He could not recall a time when Thar looked at him with such disinterest before. Even when they first fell. The first time D’Argen had turned his blade on mortals, Thar was there to comfort him afterward. But D’Argen did not know the reason why. There was no answer in either set of memories.

“Where are the others?” D’Argen asked.

One of the mortals pulled out a skin and when he opened it, the scent of wine filled the cave. D’Argen was able to ignore it easily only because he did not like the taste of wine.

“Scouting ahead. Making a new camp. We were waiting on you, not sure how long it would take,” the man spoke between sips from his skin. After a moment, he corked it and threw it over to his companion who drank as well. The woman lifted the skin to D’Argen, but he shook his head and looked away. At Thar.

Thar was watching him carefully.

The look was not one of love, but D’Argen was not completely blind.

“May we speak a moment?” D’Argen asked, a horrible idea coming to mind. The reason why Thar had never confessed his love was because he knew D’Argen would not return it in the physical aspect. It was not something that ever interested him. It was, also, the only thing D’Argen could think of at the moment.

“There is not much privacy here,” Thar responded.

“We’ll give you two some time. Get some fresh air,” the woman said and grabbed her companion, dragging him and their swords out the cave before Thar could protest. D’Argen made sure to stand between Thar’s eyes and the two mortals to help that along.

Once alone, D’Argen hesitated. Did he just… drop his pants and lay down? No. That was ridiculous enough to make him grimace.

“What is it?” Thar asked in the long silence.

“Do we know each other?” D’Argen asked, out of nowhere.

Thar seemed surprised for a moment before his expression smoothed out again. “I know of you,” he answered, his words slow.

“But… look, I know this is weird to ask, but have we… have the two of us ever—I mean, I know… uhh… you see, I have this feeling that we’ve… known each other for a long time. More than just us falling to this realm, I mean. Not like all the others, more like… uhh… closer…?”

“Is this some strange new form of wooing?” Thar asked after D’Argen’s stuttered words.

D’Argen blanked out. He had been thinking about it, yes, but had dismissed the thought as ridiculous. Yet now, to be accused of it and—

“And if it were?” D’Argen asked, ready to bite the bit. He would hate himself for it, he would question his own sanity, but if it could bring Thar closer to him.

“This is not exactly the time. Or the place.” Thar now looked amused. Not what D’Argen had intended, but it was better than that cold exterior.

“A different time and place then?” D’Argen asked, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. Why was he so desperate for this anyway? It would be… strange. It would not be the first time D’Argen had slept with someone, but he knew from experience that it was not—

“No,” Thar said, his voice firm.

D’Argen was thrown back for a moment. Then he noticed the dirt under his nails. His hair was a mess. He had not bathed in days. He had not washed his hair in longer. He probably looked horrible, if his smell alone was anything to go by. There was nothing attractive about how he looked now, to be able to grab Thar’s interest. He knew, from his other memories, the people that Thar had been lovers with. Mortals, mostly, but some of the Never Born too. Tassikar had been so beautiful, always clean and neat. Lemysire too, always dressed in the latest fashions and the most beautiful silks. There were others too, a long list that made something inside D’Argen clench tight as he thought of them. They were, also, all different.

But there was one thing he knew they all had in common. They had been the ones pursuing Thar and Thar had not turned any of them away.

D’Argen could just… do that.

Somehow.

He firmed his resolve and stepped closer to where Thar was sitting, trying to remember how Cana walked with a sway of her hips and how Tassikar smirked and his eyes glinted. Barely a step away, Thar stood up as if to meet him.

D’Argen flinched.

Thar reached out and though he did not touch him, his cold hand hovered a breath away from D’Argen’s cheek. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “I do not know why you are doing this or what you hope it will accomplish, but do not force yourself to do something you do not enjoy. Ever.” A moment of silence, then Thar dropped his hand and stepped away. “You are welcome to hunt with us, if that is still your wish.”

With those words, Thar walked past him and out of the cave.

D’Argen felt his knees weaken and then—

How did Thar know that about him?