Tributes

Chapter Thirty Two

Luke sat on the stone floor of Tyreol's bedroom with tears running down his face. Tyreol paused, taking in the scene. The young man who Luke had decided to save was rubbing some paste on to Luke's arms. The cheetah spot-like scars were red and swollen. Separating from the mind link of the trees hurt, both mentally and physically. Luke hated it so much, but the longer between melding, the more stress on his body. Luke smiled bravely at the other man, gently coaxing him to keep applying the healing ointment.

"Oh, Luke," Tyreol murmured, moving over.

Luke glanced over but quickly looked away, wiping his face with the back of his free hand. The young man continued cleaning out the ports, no doubt at Luke's instructions. He was careful and throughout. Good, the last thing Tyreol wanted was for Luke to deal with an infection.

In the forest groves, the tree keepers would have bathed Luke in mineral water to clean the holes out and keep from infections. It didn't work well. Most spore carriers residing in the hidden groves dealt with infected ports. The trees had 'melding' with them was not the cleanest thing in the world, and they were rarely kind with not using infected ports either. The life of a spore carrier was not particularly pain-free. At the castle, they cleaned them with purified water and then put a healing paste made from honey and bark to help with the inflammation.

The process still hurt, however. Luke's first time, he screamed so much. Tyreol remembered feeling it pulse through his chest. The trees remembered his anger well. They never should have sought to claim one of his.

"Are you okay, precious?" Tyreol asked, cupping the back of Luke's head and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

"Never stops hurting, even now," Luke sniffed but smiled bravely. "I'll be fine."

Tyreol petted his hair. The truth was, Tyreol had failed to keep his boy safe, and now he would be in pain the rest of his life. And people wondered why Luke was the one who got more leeway than his other tributes, youngest or not. Not enjoying the feeling of helplessness in his chest, Tyreol mirrored the human on his other side and cleaned out Luke's other arm.

Luke whimpered but letting him. The quicker this was done, the quicker the pain faded. The human finished first. His hands wrapped Luke's arms up in bandages skillfully, apparently skilled in first aid. Luke flinched but held still. This was needed.

"Why didn't you ask for Helian or one of the healers to come to do this?"

"Fin said there was an infection in the infirmary at the moment, so it wasn't safe for me with open wounds," Luke explained his voice soft but no new tears were running down his cheeks. Tyreol grumbled unhappily. It was a valid concern, but he didn't like it regardless. "Helian's busy somewhere, as is Airean. So Edmund helped me instead."

"Thank you, boy," Tyreol didn't look at the human but catch the movement of the young man nodding in the corner of his eye. Edmund didn't speak, not missing how Tyreol was not really acknowledging him. Tyreol's hands were soft with Luke. As much as he would whip the younger immortal's backside to pieces, should the situation arise, he would never inflict pain on his youngest immortal tribute's ports.

"Are your legs okay?" Tyreol checked, glancing down.