Free Guarded by Kim Fielding Page B

Volos?”
    Although nothing was funny, Volos laughed. “I had no alternatives.”
    Berhanu didn’t say anything else. But he shifted a little closer so his shoulder just barely touched Volos’s. And for some reason Volos couldn’t discern, that small contact was enough to calm him and send him into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.
    ****
    For two more days they healed. Berhanu spent a lot of time sleeping, curled up in bed with the blankets pulled nearly over his head, his breathing slow and steady. On Mato’s recommendation, Volos made sure Berhanu ate small but frequent meals. When he wasn’t eating or sleeping, Berhanu paced the upper floor cautiously, sometimes holding on to the walls for support. He spoke very little. But at night he always managed to position himself with some part of his body just barely touching Volos: foot against foot, shoulder to shoulder.
    Volos paced too, although he kept himself outside of Berhanu’s orbit. His wounds were mending well— they itched like mad but no infection had set in, and he was regaining his full range of motion. Mato smiled and told him he’d collected some impressive new scars.
    After dinner on the second day, Berhanu set down the bowl of stew he’d been eating. It was a little watery because he couldn’t yet handle rich foods, but it contained good meat and nice chunks of vegetables. “We have to go,” he said.
    Volos would have preferred to wait a few more days, but he nodded. “All right. In the morning.”
    “I can’t wait—”
    “The road is too dark. I don’t want to trip over something and break my neck.” Didn’t want Berhanu to collapse in the night, far from help.
    Berhanu bristled. “Since when do you give me orders?”
    “My job is to get you safely to Queen Draga, Your Highness. I will fulfill that duty even if it means tying you up and carrying you over my shoulder.”
    After staring incredulously at Volos for a moment, Berhanu barked a short laugh. “You’re a stubborn bastard, aren’t you?”
    “If I wasn’t, we’d both be dead.”
    They shared the bed in silence that night, Berhanu’s leg touching Volos’s.
    Mato brought them food and waterskins in the morning, but as the three men stood downstairs in his grandparents’ house, he looked worried. “Are you sure you won’t stay a little longer?”
    “He’s restless. He has a mission to fulfill.”
    “And so do you.” Mato sighed. “Take care, Volos.”
    “I will. And gods, I don’t have the words to thank you for what you’ve done. You’re a true hero, Mato.”
    Mato blushed and ducked his head, but he was smiling widely. When he looked up again there was a gleam in his eyes. “Maybe someday you’ll return for a visit. You’re always welcome here.”
    Well, that was an odd sort of thing— to know there was a little village in Kozar that Volos could call home, if he wanted. The knowledge glowed warmly in his chest. “Thank you.” He reached into the pocket of his cloak and pulled out a heavy purse, which he held to Mato.
    Mato took the purse, weighed it in his hand. “This is far too much.”
    “It’s not nearly enough. Besides, he can afford it.” He jerked his head in Berhanu’s direction.
    Berhanu glared. “Stop gossiping with the innkeeper. It’s time to go.”
    “What is he saying?” Mato asked.
    Volos allowed a grin to tug at the corners of his mouth. “He’s saying he’s an impatient fool.”
    Mato laughed as he tucked the purse into his clothing. And then he grabbed Volos’s head and tugged him down for a hard and passionate kiss. Volos was taken by surprise. For a moment or two, he permitted himself to be lost in the delicious sensation of another man’s lips against his, another man’s tongue entering his mouth. When he pulled away, he was slightly breathless and Mato’s lips were reddened.
    “Safe journeys, Volos,” Mato said. Then he turned to Berhanu and executed a deep and graceful bow.
    Berhanu looked as if he wanted to tear