Esar, Age 19

19 Years Ago

The ride back to Thaliron was completely different from the ride to Dhanlir. Both Esar and Thavis rode with the Ethereal Guard, so there was no need to stop at stations unless they needed to wait for the line to clear.

Thavis spoke animatedly about the plans for Dhanlir he’d been discussing with the hazel-eyed woman. “We’re not just going to rebuild. We’re going to create something that’s never existed before. A model town that will define the future of Nalla-Bidharac.”

Esar was still in a daze, but instead of being filled with dread, he was filled with awe. His dream had been wrong. People were alive who would have died if it weren’t for his dream.

“It’s about time you got your turn to be the hero,” Danthan said, sitting down next to Esar and reclining his seat. Danthan hadn’t changed much physically since the first time Esar had seen him, but he’d matured, somehow, taking on the responsibility of leading the Ethereal Guard as if he’d been born for the role. He’d adapted to fatherhood with the same natural ease, and not only when it came to his biological son.

“It doesn’t feel real. What I saw in my dream was different from what actually happened. The future isn’t charted out in the currents. It can be changed.”

“That’s what your mother says, too,” Danthan said. “Makes me kind of wonder what the point is of having your power in the first place. But I guess—you know, days like today—that makes it worth it, right?”

So his mother was already aware that their dreams were visions of a potential future, not something that would inevitably come to pass. Why hadn’t she taught him that when she was giving him his lessons? It struck a discordant note, but it couldn’t bring him down completely.

“Next time I’ll figure it out sooner. So there will be no chance for destruction,” Esar said.

“I’m sure you will.” Danthan yawned. “We’ve done our jobs for today. Now get some rest, kid.” He kicked his feet up on the seat in front of him and closed his eyes.

Esar couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t see much out the window in the darkness, and his forehead against the glass reminded him of the way the shisao felt when he wore the symbic apparatus. He probably owed somebody an apology for his abrupt departure from the lab.

It was a humid night in Thaliron when they arrived, the spirit of a recent rain still heavy in the air. Esar’s shirt clung to his skin as he trudged back home with his stepfather. Once again, a parlor light was shining through the window. His mother was up with Raen again, Esar guessed. But when Danthan peeked into that room, he turned back, making an odd face.

“Is that a friend of yours?”

Esar looked in to see a man sleeping on the sofa. He was taller, his face more mature, and the belt around his waist marked him as Devoted, but there was no mistaking him. Esar’s heart leapt into his throat, making it impossible to speak for a moment.

“He’s mine,” Esar croaked. “I mean, my friend.”

Danthan shrugged. “I’d better go let your mother know I’m alive,” he said. “Good night.”

Esar was alone, hesitating in the doorway, trying to swim through the whirlpool spinning in his head. Joy and apprehension, longing and desire, fear and hope all mixed together, and he was adrift in the gyre. He ought to leave, to go to bed. To let Kelsam sleep. In the morning, everything would be clearer, he could figure it out—

There was no way Esar could wait until morning. He tried to walk in silently, but the floor creaked under his foot, and he froze. Kelsam didn’t stir, and Esar moved closer, slowly and delicately, until he was within arm’s reach of the sleeping man.

“Kels?” he whispered.

Kelsam started, looked up at Esar, and smiled. “Whoops,” he said, sitting up and yawning. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

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How could he sound so . . . comfortable? Like it was completely ordinary for him to be here, so far from where he belonged, sleeping on the sofa in the Tresuan house. Esar couldn’t speak, he just hovered stupidly. This wasn’t a dream. Other people had dreams like this, but never Esar. It had to be real.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Kelsam said. “I guess my timing wasn’t so great, huh? But I didn’t want to leave without seeing you, so I waited, and waited, and here you are. Finally.” He grinned.

Esar practically fell upon him, wrapping his arms around Kelsam as tightly as he could. When he held on to Kelsam, the spinning world stood still, and Esar could breathe. It was the way he smelled, more than anything else. Like earth and leaves and a sky full of stars.

Kelsam returned the hug less forcefully, laughing. “It’s good to see you, too,” he said, leaning into Esar’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” Esar’s eyes stung as he let Kelsam go and sat down on the sofa beside him.

“It’s all right. Everybody’s been nice, your family got me dinner, I got to meet your little brother. And . . . I had a little more time to think.”

Esar wondered if he was sitting too close to Kelsam. But if he scooted away, that would draw more attention and make it even more uncomfortable. Not that it was uncomfortable, sitting so close to Kelsam that they brushed against each other with the slightest movement. And Kelsam didn’t scoot away, so . . . it was all right? Maybe?

“You heard where I was, then,” Esar said slowly.

“Yeah. So you made a breakthrough with that symbic thing, right?” Kelsam said.

“I don’t know. We’ve dreamed of the constructs before they broke loose plenty of times, my mom and me. It could have been that. Wasn’t necessarily the symbic apparatus.”

“Then it was you,” Kelsam said. “Whether that thing had anything to do with it or not, it was your power that made it possible.”

“I guess it is useful, sometimes.” Esar smiled, but his stomach twisted in knots.

“Are you tired?”

Esar shook his head. “But if you want to go back to sleep . . .”

“I had a nice nap. I’m well rested. I came here to see you, and I’m not going to lose my chance to mere sleep.”

That sounded . . . but Esar didn’t trust himself to interpret what that sounded like. He liked the changes he saw in Kelsam. It wasn’t just the muscle that years of working in the gardens had added to his frame, or the ways the lines of his face had sharpened and matured. The man who sat beside him now was far more at ease with himself than the teenager Esar had known. This was a man who knew where he stood in life and what he wanted.

Esar wished he knew what Kelsam wanted. He wished he knew what Kelsam saw when he stared back at Esar.

“So . . . the getch is blooming right about now, isn’t it?” Esar said, just to have something to say.

“You just missed it. It peaked about a week ago, and I was sweeping up the petals yesterday. So you’ve actually been paying attention to me rambling on about the gardens, huh?”

“Of course. It’s important to you. And that makes it . . .” How could he explain how it felt to read one of Kelsam’s letters? “I can feel how much it means to you. It just shines through everything. And it means so much to me, too.”

“Really?” Kelsam said. “I thought I was just sending you boring letters to help you get to sleep.”

“You’re never boring. It’s just—you put peace into your letters, and I need it so much—” It sounded silly when he said it aloud. Desperate, too. Esar looked down at the floor, and Kelsam didn’t say anything for a while.

“I think I knew that. I mean, I always wanted to write to you, even when I felt like I didn’t have a lot to say. I think I knew that you needed it.” Kelsam placed his hand on top of Esar’s, fingers falling between his to squeeze his hand.

“Thank you,” said Esar. He closed his eyes, turned his hand over to clasp Kelsam’s rough, calloused one.

“I never forgot about you,” Kelsam said.

“I know.”

“I mean . . . I never forgot about us.”

Esar felt the heat of Kelsam’s breath on his cheek, and he opened his eyes to see Kelsam leaning in close, a question in his gaze. Kelsam had been searching Esar, he realized, for the same things Esar had been searching for in Kelsam.

“I never wanted anything else,” Esar said.

Kelsam rested his free hand on Esar’s knee and kissed him. Esar returned the kiss with all the intensity and pent-up longing of four lonely years. When Kelsam pulled away after a moment, Esar wondered if he’d been too clumsy, too unpracticed in kissing, let alone anything else.

But there was nothing uncertain in Kelsam’s gaze. It was amazing just to be looked at in that way, to be desired, and it sent a shiver through Esar.

You don’t deserve this, said the voice in the back of his head. You don’t deserve him.

“Is something wrong?” Kelsam asked, his expression changing to one of concern.

“No,” Esar said. He was not going to let his doubts sabotage him, not tonight.

“Just for a second, you looked . . .”

“Overwhelmed,” Esar finished for him. “I’ve had too much on my mind today. You know how hard it is for me to stop thinking.”

“I think I can help you with that.” Kelsam seized him and kissed him again. “Is it working?” he murmured against Esar’s lips.

Esar held tight to him, his fingers slipping into the curls at the back of Kelsam’s head. “Almost,” he whispered. “Don’t stop.”