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At the wall of Chastillon’s room, was hung a map of the world. Vask and Patran were less considered, while great attention was on the land of Vere and Akielos, whose names were written in veretian conjugation. Damen cringed at the familiar names in that style, remembering how the entire war had born over his father’s request of having Delpha back in his possession. Apparently, the veretians wanted more.
When the door opened, he snapped his head from the map: Laurent, tight clothes and composed as if they didn’t come from a long journey of travel, entered his chamber, owing it with his presence. He reserved a mildly interested look at what Damen was doing.
“It used to be one kingdom, once,” he said, as he took his seat in the armchair and gestured at Damen to place himself in front of him. On the table in the middle was still placed the remaining of Damen’s meal. If Laurent had eaten, he had done it separately.
Damen expected Laurent’s sentence to be only a warning about Vere’s ambition towards Akielos. Instead, Laurent continued, “It’s been said that the people of the Artesian Empire were blessed by gods. They have powers beyond our comprehension, which allow them to build without effort, travel between walls and heal even the deadly wounds with only their minds.”
His eyes hadn’t left Damen once as he sat down. “Their knowledge is mostly lost these days, but something remained, or so it is said, in the blood of Vere’s royal family.” Laurent took a glass of water and observed it as it was of his mostly interest. “We call it the Skill.”
The Skill. Damen repeated the word in his mind, trying to get a hold of it. Such a nice denomination for something so twisted as mind-control.
“We have similar legends in Akielos,” he said instead. “They said the Artemisian empire coexisted with Dragons, which they could communicate with and share a special bond. When Dragons went extinct, the Artemisian empire fell, but the ability to communicate with nature remained in some people.” His mother’s lineage, the one that created Akielos.
“I’m not surprised that a barbaric country like you took only the most basic of power,” Laurent said.
“And yet it was this barbaric power that resist yours,” Damen bit back. “Probably because it isn’t tainted by a desire to overpower those that cannot defend themselves.”
If the collaboration wasn’t starting in the best way, Damen didn’t care. He had been clear that his desire to help Laurent sprout from the necessity of defending Akielos from the Regent’s plot. He had no love for Laurent, nor he’d forgotten how much Laurent had hurt him. How much was still hurting him, since the barrier that separated him from his Wit partner still stand.
But he wouldn’t tell Laurent that, not after his talk about the Wit being stronger than the Skill.
If Laurent had been moved by Damen’s speech, he didn’t show it.
“I can image that your lack of imagination brings you to believe the Skill can be used only in one way,” he said, calmly. “And I won’t lie, it has its benefits. But it is much more than that.”
“Such as?”
“Pressing on preexistent emotion, you can increase it beneficially. Even better, you can let people restrained from their fear and worries, and that will allow them to reach their full potential.”
It was what Auguste had done, Damen realized. He didn’t force Akielons soldiers to escape, or to kill each other, but he’d increased his own men’s abilities in order to succeed.
“Making someone believe that they could do a thing and they may just be able to despite all the odds,” Laurent continued. “Most of the Skill had been lost for centuries, but just imagine how we can do with that. If we can convince someone that he would live instead of die, so the body would be convinced to repay itself.”
There was a strange glint on Laurent’s face, one Damen had never seen before, which was both surprising and scaring. It was the first time Laurent was truly interested in something, not as a means to reach his gain, but as actual, genuine interest.
Laurent noticed it too, noticed that he was letting a piece of him out, so he said, “Of course, I don’t feel guilty to use the Skill in the conventional method. If someone attacks me, I will order him to stop.”
Take the knife
Damen had noticed it, the cutlery the attendants had carelessly left in his tray. He had no intention to use it, for the moment, and he hated that Laurent was ordering him to only test him. In a swift movement, he grabbed it by the hilt and then stabbed the table. The blade swung back and forth by the strength of the hit.
“Don’t,” he said dangerously. “I’ve already proved to you that I can repel your order. Next time you order me a knife in my hand, you wouldn’t like to be able to stop what would come next.”
Laurent nodded, as if he expected it. “In the future, there will be a time when you’ll take that knife willingly to use it. I expect it and I assure you I will use any means to stop you. But now that you clarify your position, I expect you to behave.”
Damen nodded, because what else could he do? What Laurent couldn’t gain with the Skill, he got with his brain and his clever plan, just like he’d done with Torveld.
“My uncle can’t control an entire army. He isn’t as good, and he hasn’t been trained,” Laurent continued, as the entire conversation about the knife and their inevitable fated future confrontation hadn’t happened. “But neither I was. It is entirely possible he used the Skill to impose some orders on some soldiers, to carry out at the most beneficial moments for him and the worse for us. I’m not sure I would be strong enough to counterattack it.”
The admission of weakness was made in an impersonal tone. But Laurent was practical, so he couldn’t afford to overestimate himself to create a valuable plan.
“I guess Govart was one of them.”
Laurent rose his eyebrow. “My uncle didn’t need the Skill to have Govart obeying him. It’s far more probable he hit one of my guards. His ones are already loyal.”
“What can I do?”
“The Skill can’t do what the Wit does. You proved that you can feel when we use the Skill and counterattack it. I want you to use the Wit and search for any sign of my uncle’s tampering. Open your mind to any interference you see and report them to me.” Then, he gestured at the maps on the table. “In the meantime, you said you know the area.”
Returning to the army after months of captivity was refreshing for Damen, but it also made Leone’s absence aching more. He was used to his comments, his remarks, his help. It was a part of his soul that he couldn’t access anymore. The absence was even more dominant when Damen, following Laurent’s orders, opened his spirit searching for the Regent’s tampers.
Despite it, Damen was still competent enough. Laurent seemed to consider his pieces of advice. Gaining the men’s trust was a little bit complicated and Govart’s behavior didn’t help. It was one of the first things Damen said to Laurent: his men and his uncle’s men fought and Govart didn’t do anything to prevent it. Laurent had to intervene before the situation precipitated.
“Govart follows orders. Just not mine.” It was Laurent’s comment, but in any case, he seemed convinced enough of the necessity of some sort of intervention on his part.
“That’s all?”
“No. There’s another thing.”
“Go on, then.”
Damen sat down in front of him, but he didn’t speak. They weren’t any more in the private quartier in Chastillion, men were all around the tent. Instead, he reached for Laurent’s mind. Laurent let him.
I don’t know if the Wit allows me to see orders made with the Skill. If any men received it, they may consider it a part of themselves. I saw the order because I have the Wit
In his mind, the Regent’s order had been like a stone felling in a lake. But others might consider it no more than salt, melting in their soul.
Have you tried on Huet?
Damen looked at Laurent, surprised.
Yes. As you said, I started with your own men
You noticed something?
No
Then you probably can’t. I used the Skill to order him to do something stupid but harmless
Now Damen was annoyed.
You could have warned me
It would defy the entire purpose of proving your Wit, don’t you think?
As much as he hated it, Damen couldn’t deny that it had been an effective way to prove what the Wit could do compared to the Skill. It was also worrisome, because despite their agreement Damen didn’t trust Laurent to remain coherent to it, if Damen didn’t prove himself useful.
But I noticed something
Laurent raised an eyebrow.
Aimeric
What about him?
He has a barrier inside himself, just like the one you put on me. I think it’s the Regent. I don’t think he has the Wit, so he definitely didn’t notice it and it shouldn’t be a barrier to cut off a Wit partner
Laurent’s expression remained impassible. Damen didn’t expect him to be regretful of Leone’s whereabouts, but the unfairness still hurt. Laurent kept his spirit steady, no one emotion left free.
What the barrier is blocking?
I don’t know. I hypothesize that it’s preventing Aimeric to reach some of his memories. I can’t grasp it, so he definitely can’t either. Maybe your uncle gave an order and hid it behind a wall until the time come
Laurent pondered on the situation.
Interesting
Then, he said, “Aimeric is Guion’s third son. You know Guion? It was the Ambassador in Akielos. He’s also Fortaine’s lord.”
Damen remembered him. “And his son is part of your guard?”
“It seemed so convenient, don’t you think? Putting as mole the son of one of my uncle’s trusted men. It’s exactly the person to look more.”
But then, in his mind, he said, keep searching, I’ll have Jord keep an eye on Aimeric
Then Laurent put up another map for Damen to illustrate. It was going to be another long night.
But Damen didn’t mind: talking with Laurent made Leone’s absence more bearable. For now, it was an agreement that worked.
They had their first disagreement the day after Govart’s demise. Since Laurent had stated that Damen could argue with him as long as they did it in private, Damen did just that. Despite the tiredness of the daily drills, he felt enough energy to sit down with Laurent and protest.
“You can’t do that.”
“Do what?”
Laurent’s ignorance sounded false. Laurent hadn’t protected himself with his barrier during the day, and Damen suspect he’d done that to test Damen too. Damen had felt more and more Laurent’s pressure over the men, his orders during the thrill.
Damen just looked at him. “They won’t grow into decent soldiers if you cheat. They need to be able to do things on their own, not being ordered to.”
You complained that I didn’t resolve things with Govart with the Skill Laurent’s eyes were on Damen’s face, intently. “Why are you complaining now?”
Damen had been surprised to see Laurent straightforwardly dealing with Govart, and not only because it’d revealed Laurent’s ability with the blade. Damen had been sure it would be something more subtle, a kind of order given with the Skill that would have brought Govart’s demise. Instead, it had been a mixture of Laurent’s scheming mind and his own capability.
“I didn’t actually complain about it.” Damen’s reservation had been more inclined to Govart’s rage at being humiliated, and the way Laurent had conned it. “But that’s the point. You said you wanted the men to respect you, and they now respected your strength after the show-off with Govart. You have traits that’ll make them love you, but if you just order them, they won’t learn. And they won’t appreciate you and they’ll move as soon as someone else will order them something else.”
“I don’t have the time!” Laurent’s rage was there, but controlled, hid behind a wall. “I earn two weeks for them. They’re not enough. Not for them, and not for me.”
Damen understood that, but his mind refused to consider forcing someone against his will, without even consenting to it, a suitable way to train an army.
Besides, don’t tell me you haven’t ever used the Wit to order animals
Actually, yes. I asked them to aid me
Laurent wasn’t unreasonable. Unreadable, most of the time, but it was guided by his brain so Damen could talk him into consideration.
“During the battle of Marlas…” Laurent's rigid posture said to Damen that he had to walk really, really carefully in the next word. “Veretian were pushed to their best. But they weren’t orders, not entirely. It was something more… subtle.” He eyed Laurent. “Like you did with Torlveld.”
Laurent held his breath. “Auguste was a natural. He was strong with it. I haven’t been trained, and I’m not… as good. I can’t do that with so many men, and they still need to feel something for me to intervene.”
“If you don’t try, you’ll never know.” Damen didn’t say that Laurent had been strong enough to create a barrier impossible to break. It hadn’t been an easy feat. “You won’t be able to order men in battle as you do during drills in any case.”
Laurent didn’t confirm or negate it. But the next day, during training, Damen didn’t perceive any orders from him. But he felt something: it was only a faint sensation, like a brush of finger from a lover. In Damen’s opinion, it was still too controlled, too impersonal, but it was similar to Auguste’s feeling.
Men around Damen were tired, but then calm fell upon them, relaxing them, convincing them that they were able to do more.
Men around Damen were attracted to Laurent, and now that attraction was pushed a little, turned into admiration, and comprehension.
Slowly, Damen saw the king Laurent could be, with his abilities and his Skill, and it was, begrudging, a wonderful vision. And a completely spontaneous one: Laurent hadn’t touched him with his mind.
“Let me,” Damen said, as he and Laurent observed the lonely horse, the very same that had left days before with the messenger.
Slowly, he opened his spirit as he approached the horse. He accepted Damen’s touch with much grace; since the beginning, Damen had tried to befriend the animals in the camp, a habit of his. One could never be sure when and if they would need bizarre help. So the horse recognized him.
Damen caressed his neck and asked mental questions at the same time. Horses were simple creatures, but smarter than most. Even if they couldn’t grasp the complexity of the human world, they’re used to it enough to be able to describe events in detail and understood even more precise questions.
When Damen returned to Laurent’s side, he nodded. “They killed your messenger. I don’t doubt it was the Regent’s doing, but the soldiers didn’t wear any crest. The horse’s return was probably a warning: they wanted you to know that your message didn’t go through.”
Laurent’s eyes were still on the horse and he didn’t say anything, so Damen followed his own line of thoughts about the reason. In his opinion, it would be more beneficial to hide it, making Laurent believe that his message had reached the target and twisting to understand why no answer would arrive next. Unless… He looked at Laurent’s intent expression and, with his spirit still open, he could perceive the idea forming below the golden hair.
“They want to separate you from your men. You can’t let them.”
Laurent looked at him but, surprisingly didn’t have a remark and didn’t shut Damen out of his mind. “Do you speak will all animals?”
“Technically, but not all of them answer.” Damen was surprised by the question and wondered if Laurent was trying to find a way to use the Wit more than having Damen as his watchdog for the Regent’s plot. “Insects are too simple-minded so it’s hard to make them listen. And birds are pricky.”
“And reptiles?” Laurent asked: his tiny smirk gave Damen the impression that he’d been able to read Damen’s not-so-kind opinion of him. “Don’t answer, I already know.”
“I think we’re safe.”
Damen was about to open his spirit to control where the guards following them were moving away from the tavern, when Laurent grabbed his hands. Damen halted: Laurent didn’t wear Nicaise’s earrings anymore, but it had been a strange night. A strange day. Laurent seemed kinder, more approachable than usual. More human – and Damen’s body reacted accordingly.
“I want to try something,” Laurent said. Can you use the Wit to pinpoint the soldiers?
Yes
He knew better than to ask for an explanation. Damen opened his spirit, let it wander until he identified the soldiers: they were four, and their eagerness made them bright for Damen to separate from the rest. They were like hounds during hunting season.
Suddenly, an image formed in his mind. It was the messenger Laurent had met, walking in the street of Nesson. It looked a lot similar to the one that was brought from the brothel to the tavern; then the messenger walked again, turned to the street of the brothel, passed the door and then again. But he
“I saw him!” One of the guards yelled. “He went that way!”
Damen couldn’t see them, but he perceived them. He perceived that they were running around like sheep guided by the guard dog.
You planted a fake vision in their mind
I wasn’t sure I could
It won’t work, they’re splitting up. Two of them are coming back
Wait
Another memory, this time of Laurent and Damen going in another direction. The two guards followed that imaginary idea. From the tavern’s roof, they could see the men moving from one street and another without noticing they were running in a circle, trapped in their mind. Damen didn’t know if being amazed or disgusted by it. It was dishonorable. But also bloodless.
Will they run in a circle until they die?
My Skill will fade out sooner or later
But he didn’t look so sure – everything Laurent was doing was more an experiment, and it was spurred from Damen’s presence.
“Maybe we should put them to more use.”
Laurent eyed him. “Interrogate them? We know they’re my uncle’s.”
“But they may know something else about his plan.”
Damen wondered if the idea grew out of his necessity to keep Laurent safe or because he despised seeing the men like that. Laurent nodded: he, too, understood his doubts.
“You won’t like my interrogation.”
It was said in a nice tone, as if Laurent hated the Skill to be perceived as a twisted thing, but he didn’t have any chance but to use it like that.
Do you intend to penetrate their minds?
“Penetrate?” You start to talk like a veretian. Then, Yes, if my uncle didn’t block them
Damen would have beaten them until they wouldn’t have talked. Begrudging, he admitted he was starting to admire the Skill and the advantage it gave.
“I do think it’ll be better than mine.”
Despite understanding Laurent’s decision to wait for the revolt, Damen was unease. He couldn’t sleep, concerned that the revolt would break out before they could intervene. If Laurent was wrong, the Prince’s Guard might be able to defeat the insurgent alone, but it would leave their army crippled and weakened to face the subsequent ambush the Regent had prepared against them.
His spirit wandered on the sleeping camp, so he noticed immediately when something was awry, the eagerness of some men, the firing up of their soul, like dogs in heat. The kind that couldn’t be stopped. He rushed to wake Laurent.
They didn’t talk: their soul was somehow connected after sharing their thought, and even in the dark Laurent understood. He was ready immediately and followed Damen outside the tent.
It was barely sunrise and the camp was still mid-asleep. No doubt the rebels wanted to take most of the others by surprise, but it didn’t work quite well because most of the Regent’s men had no intention to participate against the prince. It wouldn’t have been like that a few days before.
“What’s going on?” Laurent asked, sauntering towards his soldiers.
His attitude was calm, focused; with the sun glinting at his shoulder, his golden hair shone and his entire figure, already dressed with the armor, looked ethereal. Like a king, Damen thought to himself.
The thought appeared in his mind before perceiving Laurent’s tug. It wasn’t directed at him, but he felt it anyway. His Skill swirled around the men, pushing their devotion, their pride of being prince’s soldiers. The ones that opposed it, he pressed more on the guilt button. Even if they didn’t backward from their decision, they felt ashamed about betraying the prince.
It was glorious, Damen thought. Laurent was very different from Auguste, but the power Damen perceived was the same.
The battle that broke out was swift and brutal and didn’t end well for the rebels.
“Aimeric was involved too,” Orlant argued. “I saw the little snake in their company. He revved people up. Just look at Lazar.” He turned to Jord. “You were the one ordering me to keep an eye on him. You suspected him too.”
Jord tilted his head to Laurent, who sat down impassibly at his desk, inside his tent. “I did. With me, though, he hadn’t shown anything.”
“Of course! He’s sweeting on you and at the same time he speaks poison to the likes of him.” Orlant turned to Huet for support.
Damen was surprised the three soldiers had gut enough to discuss so freely in Laurent’s presence, and more so that Laurent let them. But his Wit didn’t perceive anything: the men were still wrapped in their feelings to the point Laurent didn’t need to push on their feelings anymore. They were proud men, even more proud now that they had actually fought for their prince, and that was the result. But the moment Laurent would speak, they would accept any of their decision.
That was more or less the birth of Laurent’s pack.
Besides, the real conversation took place in Laurent’s mind.
Do you think we can fall into my uncle’s trap
Yes. You saw your pack – your men. You’re seeing them right now. They’re yours. Gave them a battle, a real one, and they will be ready for the border
Damen missed Leone in his mind, but the lingering feeling of the lion remained in his mind. A battle to defend their pride was exactly what the men needed. In his wild thoughts, Damen would never imagine seeing veretians as a lion pack, and yet there he was, pushing for them to defend their territory.
I’m not sure I can do the same thing I did for the revolt. We’ll probably need to split, and I will be moving. My Skill… hasn’t been proven so much
I can help you, as I did at Nesson. Use the Wit to direct you
He’d done it before, with animals. Guided by Laurent, he guessed it wouldn’t be impossible to do the same with people. It would be strange, to take Leone’s role and let Laurent in charge.
That… will be useful
Then Laurent shifted his position, barely, and that was enough for the men to stop. “Aimeric is not to be touched, for now,” he said. “The traitors were defeated, and that’s enough for now. Let him think we don’t know about his treason and let's see his next move.”
The three men nodded. When Orland and Huet left, and Jord was the only one who remained, Laurent said, “Can we focus now on the real battle that awaits us?”
During the revolt, Laurent hadn’t pulled Damen’s mind. It wasn’t necessary and, maybe, Laurent didn’t trust himself or Damen enough to risk it.
During the battle, Laurent didn’t have a such reservation. Damen felt clearly the pressure of Laurent on his entire soul, just like over the men around him, and they were galvanized to fight more, better, braver. Damen didn’t perceive it as an intrusion, but as a helping hand. He was a good – a greater warrior, and being reminded of it just stimulate him. He embraced the feeling like it was his own.
Only when the battle ended in a victory and Damen had the time to breathe, to think, he realized what that feeling really meant. It was like with Leone.
Damen and his Wit partner hadn’t participated in war, Marlas was long forgotten when Damen became friends with the lion. However, they had faced fights together, in hunts or during contests. Leone had been at his side and his mind at the same time, lending Damen his animal features. Damen could be stronger, faster, and more precise thanks to their connection. He didn’t just feel like a lion, he was a lion.
Laurent’s connection worked similarly, improving Damen’s natural talent to its maximum extent. For the first time since Leone’s disappearance, Damen hadn’t found his absence so heart wrecked. The guild he felt was temperate by the happiness Laurent was spreading around, the men cheering his name.
So the Wit and the Skill weren’t so different after all.
It was one kingdom once.
Laurent appeared fine after the battle. Like a consummate warrior, he gave orders around, his armor still shining and spattered with blood. He didn’t rest until he was sure the camp was arranged in the most efficient and tidy manners, that the wounded and the dead, very few in both cases, were taken care of. Damen did his best to help, feeling that something was off. Laurent’s Skill, so pushed to the outside, was now swirling inside Laurent, as he was pushing himself in the same manner he did with men not long before.
Only once they were safe in the tent, Laurent let himself go. Damen wasn’t sure if it was deliberate or he just reached his limit, but he fell unceremoniously on his knees, his Skill completely disappeared and he grabbed his head with both hands.
Damen was immediately at his side. “Laurent, are you…?”
“What do you think?” Laurent snarled. “Go call Paschal.”
Not even when he was drugged Laurent had lost so much control. When Damen reached for him with his Wit, he felt the head-splitting pain that was radiating from his mind. It wasn’t the normal tiredness of the battle, but something that came from the Skill itself.
Damen rushed to Paschal. When he returned to the tent, Laurent had somehow managed to move and now sat sloppily on his chair, sweating, cheek red. But he wasn’t feverish, not yet. He glared at Paschal, who didn’t look at all surprised or concerned.
“You know what you need.”
“No, I… There needs to be another way. I can’t… Just give me a sleeping potion.”
Paschal didn’t falter. “It won’t work. You pushed yourself too much, I told you it would happen.” Then, kinder, “a dose won’t do much damage. But if you resist, you won’t be able to function anymore.”
“Fine, then.” It was a growl, the defeat of a wounded lion. Paschal nodded and left, so Laurent reserved his attention and rage at Damen, “Well? Attend me.”
Damen had learned enough than ask if Laurent was in such a foul mood. But he reached for him with the Wit, in the same way it would do with a scared animal, and Laurent let him. When Damen had finished helping him undress, Paschal returned with a cup with a green and warm liquid, which Laurent drank slowly, each sip a stab.
“I gave you the minimum dose,” Paschal said, “Tomorrow morning you will be better.”
“No, I won’t,” Laurent replied, his word harsh. “Not the way I should.”
Damen found out the truth behind Laurent’s words the next morning, when Laurent woke up. Damen hadn’t noticed it, at first, which was strange because he had his spirit roaming free. Then, he focused specifically on Laurent’s mind and he found it blank, as if no one was ever there.
Laurent, he tried, with no reaction at all.
Then Laurent looked at him, seeing the baffled expression on Damen’s face and scoffed. “Ephedra.”
It should have been an explanation, but Damen didn’t understand. “It was the medicine Paschal gave you yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“But-”
“Ephedra is technically a calming herb, but it has the unexpected side effect to block the Skill entirely.”
“Entirely?” Damen repeated, feeling stupid. He knew drugs could affect the Wit, because it affected the brain: when Laurent’d given him chalis, his access to Leone’s consciousness had been foggy during his fight with Govart. But he’d never lose hold of it.
“Did I stutter?” Laurent replied. He hadn’t stood up from his bed yet and he’d clearly be in bad humor.
“But it will come back?”
“Maybe.” Laurent looked about to puke. His eyes were on Damen, as he was battling inside himself if spoke again. Then, he said, “A not trained Skill user could burn himself if they’re not careful, especially if their Skill is particularly strong.”
Damen thought about it, remembering that, in his young years, he had the same problem, and when he used too much the Wit, the result was a weekly headache.
“Not many papers survived about the Skill, and my uncle was very careful to hide what it was beneficial to him. He always said that ephedra is useful to keep the side-effect of the Skill under control, but it isn’t true. It blocks it. Prolonged use of it may erase the Skill completely.” Laurent’s face was like stone. “After Marlas, he’d been given ephedra to me every evening.”
“But you haven’t-” Damen stopped. He re-thought better at his assessment. “You mean your Skill was even stronger in the past?”
“Possibly. My father never saw the utility to train me, so it was wild when I was younger.” Finally, Laurent stood up. “When I started to finally use the Skill consciously, most damages had already been done. And I don’t know how much more will take for the ephedra to take my Skill permanently.” He gritted his teeth. “I shouldn’t have exploited the Skill so much. At that point, there was no other choice.”
Laurent let his cold aspect fall and Damen could see his desperation, without having any need to read in his mind. He was only half because of the Skill absence. The other half was because of Damen’s presence: he wasn’t supposed to see his weakness.
“Here. I gave you the means to defeat me.”
“If years of ephedra hadn’t prevented you to use the Skill to improve an entire army, I doubt that a cup now will stop you for long,” Damen said, sincerely.
He didn’t feel in any way to taunt Laurent; he knew what he meant by being cut off from a power you lived with, he felt that absence every day since Leone had been stolen from him. And Laurent had shared a personal story with him, which Damen wanted to respect.
Laurent’s expression didn’t improve. “But it could stop me long enough. I need it if we want a chance to defeat my uncle.”
“Are you sure?” Damen smiled. “Then you should peek outside.”
The men, without any input, had started early working on their drill. They were Laurent’s pack thought and thought now, with or without the Skill.
Laurent recovered the use of the Skill in time for their arrival at Ravenel, which was providential.
Despite the fatigue that had brought him to use the ephedra, he immediately put the Skill back to work. Damen was careful to keep him under control, to avoid the burning up he felt a little bit guilty of since he drowned in that power during the battle too, but not as much for Laurent to become angry at his intervention.
Laurent’s ability and the Skill navigated them during the meeting with Touars, Guion and the others and helped the army during their arrival at the destruction of Breteau. Damen was the most affected by it, since it was Akielons’ fault, and he admitted Laurent’s soothing touches were more than welcoming. Laurent knew that there was the Regent’s hand behind all this and Damen appreciated that he tried to temperate any hate towards Akielos.
But there was a limit to the Skill’s success. “We need to go. Finding the actual response of this attack.”
Damen observed him. “Have you done with Aimeric?” It didn’t want to be so aggressive, but Laurent didn’t seem to mind much.
I tried to break my uncle’s barrier, but to no avail.
Do you think your uncle hid his plan behind it?
No, because otherwise, Aimeric wouldn’t know either Laurent’s expression darkened. I suspect it was something he doesn’t want me to know. But I suspect what is it, and it’s nothing I can do about it
That’s all you did?
“No.” Laurent didn’t elaborate, but didn’t raise his barrier either. Damen, however, didn’t press.
Saying it wasn’t tempted by the Akielon army would have been a lie. No, all of Damen’s body tremble with excitement, his part animal was all instinct to run to his pack. But then he looked at Laurent and remembered Leone’s warning about a wayward, alone lion, which was Laurent at this moment.
Damen didn’t have in himself the gut to abandon him.
“Can you do again what you did in Nesson?”
Laurent’s eyes moved just a little in surprise. He didn’t expect Damen to stay, or he didn’t expect Damen to want the use of the Skill? But then he looked at the army. “Not the entire army.”
“And the scouts?” Damen asked. “The army won’t come here entirely, but they will send people to check there aren’t traps or hidden enemies.”
“If you can individuate them with the Wit, I think so.”
They moved from such a visible position, hiding in a providential nearer cave. Damen took Laurent’s hands and opened his spirit, letting Laurent surf on it. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed Laurent’s touch on him. After losing Leone, he felt, even more, the absence of the other. Laurent wasn’t Leone, of course. He wasn’t his long-life partner, he was an enemy, a begrudging alley, but… he was also the only human being Damen had even shared his Wit with.
It created a tie Damen couldn’t negate.
Four scouts were around, and Laurent ordered them not to see them. To just go, because there was nothing to see. The scouts passed nearby, fast, without sparing a second glance at the surrounding.
“I think it’s clear,” Damen said.
He took off his hand from Laurent’s a little bit faster, and closed their connection. He’d become better at hiding his true self despite Laurent’s presence in his mind, but he couldn’t risk it. Laurent was becoming fast a too much important part of him.
He felt the absence inevitably, so he closed his barrier not to be a forced to face it.
That was the reason he missed the fifth scout until it was too late to use the Wit.
“In my culture, it is customary to reward for good service. There is something you want?”
“You know what I want.”
“I am not going to release you. Ask for something short of that.”
But Damen wasn’t thinking about his freedom. Of course he wanted it, but he was confident he would obtain it once the situation with the Regent would be enough resolved. He wasn’t going to correct Laurent, though.
“Remove the barrier?” he said then. “The one you put between me and my lion?”
Laurent looked at him, surprised. He didn’t ask which barrier, they were both aware of it. But then, he appeared regretful.
“I don’t know if I can.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t plan for it.” Laurent looked at the fire. “You know I’m not enough trained with the Skill. When you pried my memory, I only think of a way to shut it out. I asked for it and my Skill reacted. That’s all. I didn’t notice its presence until you pointed it out.”
“You always acted as if you were fully aware of it.”
Laurent smirked, but it was a sad expression. “Can’t have my enemy see my weakness. Better he believes I know.”
And now he was admitting it. Because he didn’t consider Damen an enemy anymore? Damen didn’t know how to take the confession, as the sadness fell through him. There was the distinct possibility that he could never recover his relationship with Leone and that was crushing him.
“I tried to destroy Aimeric’s barrier, but with no avail,” Laurent went on.
“It is possible it’s because Aimeric’s is your uncle’s.”
Laurent nodded. Without advice, he took Damen’s face in his hands and concentrated. The pull of his mind was immediately recognizable as he slammed, useless, against the barrier. It stood steady, despite Laurent’s efforts.
“If I’d been trained properly…” The regret was so sincere in Laurent’s voice that Damen couldn’t fathom him for it.
That’s why he immediately moved the attention away. “There is something else I want. Don’t try to use me against my own people.”
He would take Leone back, sooner or later. But he has other members of his pack to protect. Laurent shouldn’t be a part of it but, somehow, he’d become one.
Their captor’s horses were chatty. Damen used the Wit to talk with them during their transport. They seemed to like their owners just enough because animals didn’t have the same morality as humans, but Damen was confident enough that they didn’t have to restrain to talk with him.
Did they attack a village? Yes, probably, we travel far south, unusual
Where are we going? Up the mountain, their camp.
How many men? Fifty, all male
Damen had expected Laurent to use the Skill to untangle them from their situation, but fifty men seemed too many for him too. He hadn’t used it when they were captured when Damen had counted eight, but Laurent’s mind worked differently from Damen’s. They were looking for those men, so perhaps Laurent was waiting for something to happen, or for someone to meet.
It was only when Laurent didn’t stop the punch in his face that Damen understood: Laurent was too tired to use the Skill.
He should have understood it before. Laurent had utilized the Skill all day, first to ward off the Akielon soldiers and then to try to free Damen from his barrier. And, before that, he’d used it for days after their arrival at Ravenel. And since he refused the ephedra, there was nothing to stop him from overextending himself.
The moment Damen opened his mind, he perceived the split-brain headache Laurent had, to the point that he admired how the man could still stand and appear perfectly healthy.
Unfortunately, that meant that they couldn’t expect any mind control to entangle them from his mess. Damen, his arms still tied behind his back, couldn’t counterattack. Besides, they were too many for a full battle. With the Wit, he reached for the horses and the other animals around. If he could convince them to help Laurent and him… They just needed a diversion, something to get free and escape. The men took their horses, so they were ready to help them, but alone they weren’t enough and Damen couldn’t risk losing his only means of escape.
But then, the boss of the bandit touched Laurent. In a manner that didn’t hide anything of his interest and what he would do. Damen lost completely his hold on the animals, too focused on the current danger, too angry that someone had dared to touch Laurent.
Dare to touch his-
A roar pierced the silence and Damen, for a second, was sure it was only in his mind, those moments of his life shared with Leone that had allowed him to become a lion himself, before he remembered that his connection with Leone had been severed.
But the roar was real and a second later a lion jumped out of the brush, jumping over the boss and tearing him away from Laurent. Laurent fell on the ground, eyes wide as the lion pin the man on the ground with his pawn and chewed his throat until he stopped moving. When he turned his mared head, fangs and mouth bloodied, the other men, despite their weapons, retreated a little.
Damen took advantage of the situation and smashed his body to the nearest opponent, then used the sword to free himself from the restraint. He grabbed it and took a still-shocked Laurent to his feet to cut his ropes too.
Laurent was easy to recover once free and, when finally, the men seemed ready to fight despite their boss’ death, he was ready, a stolen sword in his hands.
They were outnumbered, despite the lion’s presence, but before a full battle broke out, the camp was invaded by vaskian women, led by Halvik. Only at that moment, Damen realized the extent of Laurent’s plan to defy the Regent’s move.
But there wasn’t time to think about it now, not with a fight in front of them. He and Laurent fought well together, protecting each other’s backs. But it was strange, for Damen, seeing Leone – of course it was him, Damen would recognize him even without their bond – fight with them without being able to perceive him.
Once, during a battle against bandits, people had told tales about Damen turning into a lion. They had been dismissed by his father as an illusion created by Leone’s presence, but Damen knew differently: his bond with Leone was so strong he had become a lion too.
Now, that bond was blocked and Leone was just like any other comrade. It was painful, but Damen would take it over not having his partner at his side anymore.
When his last opponent fell, Damen conceded himself the privilege to look at Leone. It was a blank state, as he wasn’t even there, unable to reach him with the Wit. But Leone was looking at him, recognizing him, and words in his mind didn’t need to show the happiness of their encounter.
“It was real… I didn’t think…”
Laurent’s voice was stunned, almost childish. He fell on his knee, sword lost, right before Leone. Damen swallowed, unable to reach Leone, to warn him not to arm Laurent. The last memory of Laurent and Damen’s relationship in Leone’s memory was the flogging before Laurent had separated them. Damen wouldn’t be surprised if Leone would tear Laurent’s throat open as he did with those men. Damen himself had had similar thoughts before.
But when Laurent lifted his arms, Leone slowly bowed his, letting Laurent pet his mare.
Vaskian’s tent was so little Damen and Leone were plastered one to another, but Damen didn’t complain. After everything he’d gone through since Kastor’s betrayal, there was nothing comfier, more reassuring than his partner’s steady breath and heartbeat. Leone seemed satisfied in having Damen’s head hidden in his mare.
When Leone had been a pup, Damen always slept with him, keeping him on his chest and his head in the curve of the neck. Then Leone had become too big for it, but they still indulged in cuddling sometimes.
When Laurent joined them in the tent, he found them curled in one another’s. They moved to make his space, but Damen felt a little bit embarrassed. He didn’t want Leone to leave, but it was entirely possible Laurent didn’t want him there. He could almost picture Laurent’s comment: I already bear you as a giant animal in my tent.
Instead, Laurent watched Leone with the same incredulous interest he’d show in the field and Leone stared at him, immobile, as there was no one other places he should be.
“This is Leone,” Damen decided to introduce them. “My Wit partner.”
“I gather that much. Of course you chose someone as bulky as you.” But the tone was somehow affectionate and, when he took off his mantle and joined them, he did it with care. Leone moved as he expected Laurent to lay between him and Damen, something Laurent accept with grace.
Not so much Damen. “We can-”
Laurent cupped Damen’s head with his hands. “Stay still.”
The touch of Laurent’s mind was immediate. Like before, he reached for the barrier. But this time his maneuver, despite the evident fatigue from the battle and the previous days, was precise and decisive. Damen felt the barrier cracked, first a small slit, then a full crevice. Immediately, Leone’s spirit was again present.
“I haven’t realized,” Laurent said, “that he was real. I thought it was a construct of your mind. I’m sorry. It was probably…”
Laurent’ didn’t end the sentence as the barrier crashed down.
Brother
Leone’s tone could be perceived as indifferent, but his relief was clear in Damen’s mind
I thought I could never… hey, wait a minute, haven’t told you to stay with Nik?
I don’t abandon my pack leader
I have so much to tell you
I know. I have some insight from my time with heart-of-the-pack
A tug, and Damen realized Laurent was still in his mind. Damen had never tried to have Leone, or any other animals, communicate with another human being, but because they’re deaf to the Wit. Laurent, with his Skill, could maybe…?
“Can you hear him?” he asked.
Laurent was surprised by the question. “Not… directly. I think.”
Damen tried to create a link between the three of them: something easy, since Leone was again a part of him and Laurent had been in his mind before.
The prince is… an ally now. Things are a lot more complicated in Vere now and I…
I know
Leone’s attention was all on the connection between Damen and Laurent, who hadn’t torn his gaze off from the lion. Then, his eyes widened.
Hello, lioness
The commotion broke Laurent’s icy expression and he threw himself against Leone’s belly, brushing his face on the fur. There was a sort of protective stance in Leone’s attitude, even before Damen had the chance to tell him about everything that had happened. The fury Damen had proved against the bandits’ boss was the same that had brought Leone to attack him.
Because that man had dared touched their pack.
Our lioness
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