Aureate Fates

41

                              IMMORTAL MOON

            —DREW—

The palace was awake, even in the red hours following midnight. War wasn't exactly something one slept through.

The bone-chilling words spoken by Delphinia still replayed themselves over and over.

Kill them all, the Oracle had told Erik and Marisol once the two had returned from their meeting. But Drew had suggested something different.

Without their dictator and front three-hundred men, Zardan would fall. The army would retreat without those two resources. Verskyia would be saved.

The first three-hundred soldiers were the most loyal, fiercest men. Trained at unimaginable capacities, in extreme conditions. They wouldn't desert their task unless their leader called for it—or they were dead.

So, Verskyia did not have to kill them all. Just three-hundred men with green armbands. Drew tried every avenue of justifying mass murder, even of an enemy militia.

Zardan had no hesitation murdering a defenseless boy in the library, he thought. Weren't those grounds for war?

Drew still couldn't believe Poe's eternal absence. He remembered when they had been young together. Holding childish grudges. His father, Arlo, could barely move when the news was delivered to him a few hours ago.

The door to his workstation creaked open, stone sliding against stone. A scent like cinnamon filled his nose, and he knew it was Reese before ever seeing him.

"It's not safe to be down here," Reese said, stalking in like it was noon on a brightly lit day. "Not with the guards compromised."

"You're here," Drew pointed out, shrugging, looking at the mechanism in his hands. He needed three more screws. Preferably copper. "Same rules should apply to you."

Reese grabbed a stool and sat, leaning against the counter that Drew worked at. "Now I'm here, because like a very beautiful ghost, you seem to escape me."

The screw flew from Drew's hands at Reese's smooth words, made of sweet sand and crashing waves. He was sure his ears were on fire.

He saw Reese's amused smile as he bent down to retrieve the fallen metal. Drew extended his palm, expectantly, eyes still trained on what was on his worktable.

He couldn't quite bring himself to meet Reese's colorful emotions. They were loud, and filled with the type of thing that would intimidate a vibrant flame.

His palm was empty after a few moments. Reese simply would not relent. Would not give him the screw.

"Look at me," Reese beckoned, taking a step closer. Drew could feel his heat. He could have held onto it for eons.

Slowly, Drew turned his face up to meet his. Reese's brown eyes were void of any humor, and instead, resembled something like concern.

"You're frightened," Reese said, gaze hardening as he reluctantly handed Drew the screw.

He wouldn't allow himself to dwell in his guilt or his sorrow, or in the fact that the gleaming palace that had saved him was now being threatened with a thousand sharp swords.

Drew swallowed. Tried to breathe. "You're not?" The last notch of his voice cracked. His fingers shook, and he quit the screw, setting it aside frustratedly.

Maybe he had become too tired to think.

"Easy, lovely," Reese tried gently, a slight grimace on his face. "Sit with me." He pulled out another stool.