Kingsbane

Chapter 31

Grayson chuckled as Siva came out from behind Siofra's dressing screen in his festival attire. "Believe it or not, this is my least flamboyant formal wear." He sighed, placing his silver coronet on his brow. As he did so, it was like he'd also put on a veil of grief. "I won't be able to come back until morning. I'll be drugged heavily so..."
"I'll be here." Gray assured him, forcing himself to rise from the chair he'd been occupying despite the painful ache in his bones and the heaviness of his fatigue. With shaking hands he removed the king's head piece and neatened his mussy hair. "You know, I left my family so I wouldn't have to see them make the same face you're making now."
"Sorry." Siva mumbled, plastering a heart-wrenching fake smile across his face.
Grayson replaced his coronet to his head, making sure it was straight.
"You don't have to grin like a deranged Barbie, just don't break down in the middle of your own shindig. Okay?"
"Got it."
"Good." Taking him by the ruffle on the front of his shirt, Gray pulled the taller man down to his level and placed a kiss on his jaw. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Should I come back in ten?" Rafferty inquired from the doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest and eyebrows raised.
Grayson released his shirt, and stepped backed a little, blushing. Siva couldn't resist. He hooked the boy with one arm and with a totally dramatic flourish, dipped him low and stuffed his mouth with tongue. Rafferty lit a cigarette, unfazed.
"I'll see you soon." The Fae whispered into Gray's neck before righting him and slipping past the General, disappearing down the corridor.
Immediately, any semblance of health he'd been portraying dispersed. The ache in his bones practically had him limping as he returned to his chair, avoiding the bed altogether, knowing if he laid down he might not rise again. His body was heavy, but at the same time his limbs felt like soggy Twizzlers and he could only image how ghastly white his face must be.
Rafferty stalked across the room to the window where he flicked ashes out into the night. "I'm impressed." He breathed, removing his jacket and rolling the sleeves of his shirt up above his elbows.
"With what?"
"With the way you put on such a show for Siva. You don't even have Glamour and you faked it better than he did." Raff explained, "I was sure I'd have to drag his ass downstairs, but you managed to get him dressed and going on his own. Wish we could keep you around. He'd be a lot easier to deal with."
"Will he be okay?"
"I want to tell you 'yes'." The man sighed after a long pause. "But, there's little comfort in a lie if you already know it's a lie, right?"
"You had a Bane once, though, didn't you? And you're still here."
"Sometimes I wonder." The General muttered, taking a few puffs of his cigarette before continuing on a smoky exhale. "It's a miserable loss. I think it is probably the cruelest thing Father Faery has ever done. This curse has ruined my entire life, taken everything away from me. That woman tore me to bits, and yet I still can't quite chase her out of my heart even though it was never rightfully her's to begin with. It's been one-hundred and twenty-two years, and she still plagues me."
Grayson looked down at his hands and let out a weary sound. "I never wanted to do that to him. I wish I had just gotten in my car and drove home that day instead of walking around like a damned fool."
"It's not your fault. Siva asked for it by spending so much time in your realm. I'm sorry. I guess I'm not very good at cheering people up."
"No, you certainly are not." Avalbane agreed, coming into the room looking disheveled. A patched-ladden bag hung over her shoulder and her dark hair was falling loose from her braid. Her cheeks were flushed and she seemed a bit winded. Rafferty immediately went to her, only to be brushed aside.
"My apologies Grayson." She huffed, setting her satchel on the bed and coming to stand before him. "I had to run out and find more trelfis root. The idiot in the kitchen let the mice get to the last of theirs."
Taking his chin in her delicate hands, she looked at his eyes and took his pulse in a smooth, well-practiced way. Rafferty returned to his smoking, but watched her movements from the window with a sullen look on his face. "He going to be okay?"
"What did Siva do to you today? The fool." She ignored Raff's question and began sifting through her bag. "I specifically told him not to push you too hard. And look, he's run you absolutely ragged."
"I'm okay." Gray lied, "He took me swimming. To the cave you played in as kids."
"Not the most romantic spot." She stated, seeming unable to find what she searched for in her frazzled state.
"You and I spent quite a few romantic evenings there." Raff grumbled.
"That was the folly of youth. Hold this, please." Handing Grayson a little wooden bowl, she began to throw an assortment of herbs and berries into it. "Siva is old enough to know better. Make yourself useful."
Rafferty accepted the bowl and began to smash the ingredients together with the rounded utensil she handed him. It was obvious he'd done it quite a few times before. "Did you mix Siva's elixer as strong as you did last night?" He inquired around the last but of his cigarette.
"No. Siofra told me she had to knock him out last night rather than sleep with him. He was wild, she said. I couldn't do that to her a second time." She replied, retrieving a pitcher of water from the nightstand and pouring a little into the bowl that Raff was still mashing. "There." Plucking it from his large hands, she brought it over and presented it to Grayson who sniffed it and cringed. "I'm sorry. It's bitter, but you will have to bear it."
He didn't argue. Instead he took it like a shot, throwing it to the back of his throat and swallowing before his tongue had the misfortune of tasting it. It worked for the most part, what little he did have to savor was reminiscent of Lysol and it burnt his throat like a strong whiskey. It did, however, take effect almost instantly.
"Thanks." He murmured, his lips tingling and his pain ceasing.
"It should keep you comfortable."
As she gathered her things, Gray noticed Raff watching her again, with a sad, longing look that made even his now muddled mind jump to conclusions. When she turned to go, he looked as though he were about to call out to her, but decided mid-thought not to. Instead, he simply crossed the room and swept her out the door.
"What are you doing?" She hissed, slapping his hands away as they attempted to pin her in place. "Don't give me that look."
"How much did you hear?"
"I didn't hear anything I didn't already know. You still can't let her go. It's not a surprise to me."
"For Faery's sake, woman, you seem to hear everything, yet you listen to nothing." He snarled. "She is a disease, don't you get it? She's a sickness, a parasite in my soul. I can not get rid of her no matter how I try. Do you understand?"
"I do." She whispered, turning from him. "I seem to have the same problem."
"Avalbane!"
"Good evening, General."
He wanted to scream at her, throw himself at her feet. He wanted to beg her to save him, to heal him, but mostly to forgive him. Sadly, he knew her well enough to know that she had long ago hardened her heart to that idea. "Goodnight, Butterfly."
The nickname struck a cord, he could tell by the way she picked up her pace, but it did nothing to stop her going. With yet another sigh, he returned to the bedroom, hoping Gray had heard none of his little outburst.
It was a wasted concern. Grayson was too busy battling a profusely bleeding nose to care about his romantic dysfunctions. Blood gushed between the boy's fingers, staining his shirt, and wetting the floor. There was so much of it, Raff actually began to panic.
Grabbing the nearest fabric, which happened to be a lace table cloth, he removed Gray's hands and tried to staunch the bleeding. Gray's arms fell limply to his sides and his head lulled.
"Damn it." Removing Gray from the chair to save him from falling forward onto the floor, he supported his weight and tried to keep his head tilted back. "Grayson?"
"General? What's the matter?" A passing servant inquired, peeking around the doorway.
"What's happened?"
"Go get Avalbane. She just left. Say nothing to anyone else, understand?"
"Yes." The woman nodded and hurried off down the hall.
"Hey, kid, wake up." No response. He shook him a little, patted his cheeks, even pinched him. Nothing roused him. His heart began to race. "Come on, Grayson."
Was he going to die? He was still breathing, but it was a shallow, labored effort. Of course, that could be due to the immense quantity of blood gushing his nasal cavities. Images of bloody battle flashed like lightning throughout his mind. As he held the boy there, blood warming his arms, he saw the faces of every other who had died in his grasp. It dug up feelings long buried and he may have begun to lose his sense, had his sweet butterfly not come fluttering in.
"What happened?" Avalbane hissed. "I was gone for two minutes! Two minutes!"
Rafferty didn't say anything, merely handed Gray over to the healer and then stood staring blankly down at them. Without hesitation, Avalbane pinched the bridge of his nose and with a flash of light she forced his ailing blood to clot. "Wake up." She demanded, running a thumb across his brow, calling forth his consciousness. "Grayson."
He opened his eyes only for a moment, but that seemed to satisfy her. "His body is breaking down." She whispered, hefting him onto the bed and removing his soiled shirt. Quietly, she cleaned the blood from his face, doing the best she could to wipe it from his hair. Next she searched for bruises, wondering where else he might be bleeding and then began to feel around his abdomen. His liver and his spleen were both enlarged, the pressure of which was no doubt, at the very least, uncomfortable.
Sighing, she pulled the comforter over him, knowing he did not wish to be healed. When she turned back to Rafferty, her traitorous heart gave a leap. He was slumping over the windowsill, back to her, his bloodied shirt discarded at his feet. The light from the low-burning candles licked across his bare skin, illuminating the deep paths a whip had long ago blazed there.
"A General who can not stand the sight of blood, should retire." She whispered, coming to stand beside him.
"And a man without a purpose should die." He countered softly.
Without asking permission, she touched his arm and sent a soothing warmth into him, assuaging his malcontent as she so often had throughout their lives. It was a touch just like this one that had first coaxed him from the shadows, and it was that touch alone that still kept him in the light.