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"But my birthday isn't for five more months," protests Terran.
Rab scoffs before tucking back into his stew. "Laddie," he says around a mouthful. "I think I know when yer birthday is."
Terran's brow crinkles, a soft furrow that instinctively you want to reach out and smooth away. "So do I," he says. "Seeing as how it's my birthday."
"Oh really? An' how much do ye remember of it?"
Terran opens, then shuts his mouth.
"That's what I thought." In the firelight, Rab's eyes gleam triumphantly. "Ye was just a wee bairn, but Eleanor was my firstborn! I remember like it was yesterday."
Jade's mouth quirks fondly. "You remember the cigars passed around, more like."
"Ho ho!" chortles Rab. "They were fine ones indeed: A gift of Don Guzmán, right from his private collection. Ye never forget a good Valorian, I always say."
From there, the former king embarks on a discourse about the comparative virtues of cigars and other vices, and the conversation wanders without Terran. Nobody but you seems to notice how quiet he has become; how his melancholy gaze lingers on his Mark, as it usually does whenever someone mentions his parents.
You feel a pang in your chest—for Terran, yes, but also for yourself; because neither of you knew your real parents, and what a terrible thing to have in common. Of the two of you, you're not sure who has it worse: Him, whose parents are dead; or you, who will really never know for sure.
Knowing or not knowing – in the end, it doesn't matter, you suppose. All that matters is that you found each other.
You sidle closer to Terran and whisper, "Hey." When he doesn't respond, you nudge him with your shoulder. "You good?"
He shrugs.
"You know, I never knew what day I was born on, either. Still don't." Sometimes, you've noticed, it helps Terran when you say out loud whatever thought's percolating through your brain, as if the sound of your voice could call his mind back from whatever faraway place it goes. Sure enough, the knot between his shoulders begins to ease. "Anyway, I don't get what the big deal is. It's just a day."
"I guess." He doesn't sound particularly convinced, however. "Chalky told me that I was born the same day as Gemma. I—always thought that meant something. Anyway, I never had any reason to doubt him." He glances down to inspect his dirt-caked fingernails. "Guess it must sound kind of silly now, huh?"
He sighs softly, and the sound goes right through you, rattling around in the empty spaces right between your ribs. You also know that hollow feeling. You know it all too well.
"I don't think it sounds silly," you offer. Would it be weird if you took his hand right now? Probably. Better to hold off. "It's not like you, or he, knew any better. He probably thought he was doing you a favor."
"Yeah." After a moment, he clears his throat. "So you don't know your own birthday, either?"
You shrug. "Never came up. It could be today, for all I know."
You hope Terran won't press further. Or maybe you hope that he will? Tentacular's tits, it's all gotten to be so confusing. For months, you've jealously guarded your past, changing the subject whenever anyone—but especially Terran—so much as thought about prying too close. But then the Snaerfelt happened, and Terran's brush with death, and the terrifying absurdity of it all… changed things. In you. It broke you open; it showed you just how small and lost you'd be without him. Now you find yourself acting in the craziest, most self-destructive ways—like taking the fact that you don't know your own birthday and throwing it to Terran like yarn to a kitten, hoping he'll sink his sharp teeth onto the string.
Terran suddenly brightens.
"So that means," he says, "your birthday could be the same as mine, right?"
The corner of your mouth quirks upward. "Don't see why not."
"Then it's settled." Terran nods decisively, though you can't see what it is that has been settled. You feel quite the opposite, in fact: as if someone has dumped the contents of your pack out on the ground for all to see. "From now on, we'll have the same birthday. We can be birthday bros."
You chuckle, strangely touched. Terran's such a goofball. That's why you—why you—No, you can't finish the thought. "Done."
To seal the deal, you offer up your fist. Terran taps it lightly with his own.
For a few heartbeats, you grin goofily at each other, letting the crickets carry on the conversation in your stead. You never thought your life could be like this. Traveling with friends, having a purpose greater than yourself. Getting your very own birthday. Memory after memory, stacking up like so much treasure in a vault. Every day by Terran's side feels like a new roll of the dice, and you're on one hell of a lucky streak.
Your luck's bound to run out eventually—it has to—but somehow, incredibly, it never does.
"I hope ye two are whispering about yer grand plans for celebrating my grandson's birthday." Rab's gaze bounces between the two of you.
"Our birthday," corrects Terran. "We've decided that, from now on, we have the same birthday."
Cheeks prickling, you lift your chin and glare defiantly at each of your companions in turn, daring anybody—especially Veronica—to laugh or poke fun or otherwise imply that Terran has made a mistake that he should take back. Thankfully, nobody does. However, there are a few traded glances around the fire, and Rab quickly ducks his head to hide a smile.
"It's like that, is it? Alright, then. Yer birthdays," he says, emphasizing the plural. "What would ye have us do?"
"Oh, uh." Terran lifts his hands placatingly. "You really don't have to do—"
"Poppletosh, darling," says Sylvando. "How about a cake? We could get one made in the shape of your face. Faces," he corrects himself, with a smug glance toward Veronica.
"Oh, how wonderful!" squeals Serena. "I know just where to get one made. There's a shop in Gondol—"
"No," says Terran before you can even open your mouth. "No Gondolia. Enough Gondolia." It might be just a trick of the firelight, but it looks like he might be blushing. Hard to tell with his face turned away from you, though. "We were just there, anyway."
"Serena, you're going to rot the teeth right out of your skull," chides Veronica. "I say we should exchange gifts. That's the proper way to celebrate a birthday."
"But there's nothing I want that I don't already have," demurs Terran.
He's lying, of course; you can read the guy like the night sky. Idly you wonder what it is he wants. A new sword, maybe? Some new duds? You remember seeing a sparkling vest that would match his complexion in the—
"Hey, I've got an idea," you say. "How about a night at the casino?"
Jade and Veronica roll their eyes, even as Terran beams. "Yeah, the casino! That's a great idea, Erik."
"Is it?" sighs Jade. "Is it really?"
You catch Terran's eye. He'll never insist; that isn't his way. But it's also true that when he can't speak, you speak for him. That's what partners do. And you take this whole partner thing very seriously.
"Of course it's what he—we—want," you say. "One night of fun won't kill you, princess."
Jade glares at you, and your jaw twinges a little, but you can't even care; because when Terran says, "I can't wait," and slaps you on the back, his hand lingers a second or two along the arch of your spine, and you can't help but feel like you just won the jackpot.
***
Through the casino sleazes a riot of color and noise. Everywhere you look, there are bursting lights, rattling machines, tokens jingle-jangling into the Jackpot Tower… the promise of riches ripe for the taking. Sweet Yggdrasil, but you sure do love yourself a good house of sin.
You inhale deeply, then let out a satisfied sigh. "Smell that?"
Jade wrinkles her nose. "You mean, the stench of stale sweat and liquor?"
"That's the stench of success." You slap Terran on the back. "Happy birthday, man."
He smiles. "Happy birthday."
Your heart swells. When you first met him, you never would have expected Terran to be the type to kick back at a casino, but then again, you never would've expected him to be the type to base-jump off a waterfall or drunkenly vandalize a public edifice, either. The guy just keeps on surprising you.
It makes you wonder what other surprises he might have in store for you.
The thought makes you feel a little hot around the shoulders. Or maybe it's from the way Terran's grinning at you right now, like he's been beguiled by a well-landed puff-puff. That dopey smile on his face suits him, you think, especially since you were the one to put it there.
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" shouts Veronica from the vicinity of your knees. "WHAT DID HE SAY? I CAN'T HEAR ANYTHING IN HERE."
"THEY SAID YAPPY EARTH BAY TO ONE ANOTHER," replies Serena, her hands firmly clapped over her head.
"'YAPPY EARTH BAY'? THAT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE."
Serena shrugs her shoulders as best she can while still holding onto her ears.
Veronica screws up her mouth peevishly and crosses her arms. "WHY MUST IT ALWAYS BE SO LOUD IN THE MOST HORRID PLACES?"
Serena nods sympathetically. "DOES ANYBODY ELSE SMELL ARMPITS?"
"Darlings," says Sylvando, appearing out of nowhere so suddenly that you might have fallen over if you didn't have Terran for ballast. "Just cover your mouths. You'll get used to the aroma in time."
"Holy—" you gasp, clutching your chest. "Where did you come from, Sylvando?"
"Backstage," he offers with a wink so saucy that you don't even register that his answer doesn’t make a lick of sense. "I wouldn't dare miss this birthday celebration, not for the world." He takes Serena's elbow with one hand and Veronica's hand with the other, then puffs out his chest, looking every inch the gallant knight. "Darlings, why don't we go find ourselves some fizzy drinks, shall we?"
At the promise of liquor, Veronica appears somewhat mollified. "FINE. BUT IT HAS TO HAVE REAL ALCOHOL IN IT."
"Of course, darling," he agrees.
"AND AN UMBRELLA."
"Obviously." Sylv shoots you a surreptitious wink. Good ol' Sylv. "Jade, darling—are you coming?"
Jade's eyelashes flutter, as if through herculean effort she is restraining herself—barely—from rolling her eyes. "Maybe they have some tea," she mutters under her breath in a tone that is still somehow cutting enough for you to hear over the slot machines.
"Good idea. Ye lot secure the drinks and I'll, ah, get us some tokens," says Rab, his rheumy eyes already fixed upon the bunny girl behind the token counter. He scurries off in her direction as fast as his little legs can carry him.
And then it's just you and Terran.
Finally, you remember to remove your hand from his back. Boy, it's a good thing he didn't seem to notice. That might have been awkward.
"So. Uh," you say, flexing out your hand a little, "Where to first?"
Terran scans the casino, a rainbow of color dancing across his cheeks. When he again looks your way, his eyes have crinkled into half-moons. He has Rab's smile, you notice; and it isn't a weird thought but a fond one.
"How about the poker tables?" he says.
"Sure. Maybe if you tell 'em it's your birthday, they'll let you sit at the high rollers."
His voice is hopeful. "You think?"
"Worth a shot. Go grab us some seats. I wanna check out the prizes real quick."
With a nod, Terran drifts down the stairwell and over to the tables.
Meanwhile, you saunter over to the exchange counter, feeling good, feeling everything. It's your birthday—apparently—and you're filled with the sense that nothing can go wrong, not tonight. Maybe not ever again.
Behind the counter on a high hook, a purple and pink waistcoat with gold trim catches your eyes. The tails remind you of Terran's road-worn duster, except fancier—fancy enough for a prince. Or a prince without a kingdom, in any case.
The vest also looks like it might fit snugly around Terran's frame.
Very snugly.
Wickedness skitters across your skin. Feeling absolutely no shame, you ask the bunny girl behind the counter, "Hey, how much does that waistcoat cost?"
"The Elevating Vest?" She checks the tag. "Ten thousand tokens."
Your eyes boggle. Well. So much for that idea. In your pocket you've got a whopping 46 tokens, so you won't be seeing Terran wear that vest any time soon. What a shame.
But maybe, whispers that wicked little voice inside, maybe you shouldn't be getting Terran clothing at all, if your real desire is to see him out of it.
It could happen. It is your birthday, after all.
"Thanks," you tell the bunny girl. You turn back toward the casino proper and are just about to make your way down the stairs when you spot Terran, deep in conversation with the bunny girl working the hundred-token table.
Your good cheer falters. The bunny girl is very pretty, with piercing eyes and hair the color of starlight. Intent on Terran's every word, she tips forward as she shuffles her cards, thus displaying her generous… watermelons to their best advantage.
Subtly, Terran's chin dips.
Pursing your lips, you descend the stairs. Who cares if Terran gets his flirt on? He's a big boy; he's allowed. After all, he's a virile man surrounded by beautiful women. Of course he's going to notice them. Of course he's going to want to flirt a little. You don't own him.
Still, as the bunny girl's hand lands on Terran's considerable bicep, a touch which he for some reason neglects to shake off, you grind your teeth.
Two can play at this game, you decide.
Eyes still on your partner, you approach the nearest bunny girl, who happens to be the one loitering near the Slime Quest slots. You're not entirely sure what you'll say to her, as flirting isn't exactly your strong suit. You haven't had much practice, really; back in the old days, charming people was always Derk's job, not yours. He was so good, he could disarm a whole army with just one smile and a couple well-placed puns. You'd trade both your daggers for even an ounce of that natural charisma right about now.
But you've got your own strengths, you remind yourself. You're easy on the eyes; you've got that cool and mysterious thing going on. And if Terran can flirt his way through a casino with you standing right here, well, then you sure as hell can give him a taste of his own medicine.
You can do this. Of course you can do this. Why wouldn't you be able to do this?
"So, uh." You smile charmingly at the rather buxom woman as you cast about for an appropriate opener. "You come 'round here often?"
The bunny girl tilts her head. "I work here."
"Oh, right. Right." You rub the heat from the back of your neck. "I meant, do you work here often?"
She frowns slightly. "Only every night."
"That's good," you offer.
"I guess? Pays the rent, at least."
She chuckles awkwardly, and you realize that this is a terrible idea, a horrible idea, the worst you've ever had; you should just Zoom back to Heliodor, grab Derk, and make him have this conversation for you.
Think, Erik. Think. What would Derk do? What would Derk say?
Well, first of all, Derk would be charming. He'd be complimentary. He'd smile that winning Derk smile, and he'd get her talking, preferably about herself.
You can do that.
"So," you begin again. "What's your name?"
"Lulubelle," she says.
"Nice name," you offer.
"Thanks." She gives you a dazzling smile that, for some reason, makes you want to find the nearest open slot machine and press your luck. "It's the only one I got."
"It's, uh—" How do you even compliment a girl? "—strong. Solid. All those L's, you know? Loo. Loo. Bell."
Her eyebrow quirks. "Yep."
Panic rises in your gut. "Lots of good Lulubelles out there," you continue.
"Yeah?" Her expression changes to one of mild interest. Very mild. "You meet many Lulubelles in your travels?"
"Sure," you tell her, offering her your most winning smile. You've got her now. "It's the name of our horse."
She eyes you for a long, devastating second. Then she inhales deeply, nostrils flaring, clearly summoning her strength from some deep-down reserve.
"That's nice," she says, in a tone that suggests anything but. "Did you need something, sweetie?"
"Ah, I, uh." As your cheeks burn like the innards of a forge, your eyes drift over to Terran again. He's waving you over. You could topple in relief. "Nothing, I guess. See ya."
You scamper toward him, painfully aware of the bunny girl's glare incinerating your retreating back. At least Terran didn't witness how hard you just flamed out. Your pride wouldn't have survived it. You'd have had to throw yourself under the feet of the nearest Lulubelle—it wouldn't have mattered which one.
But once again, Terran has saved you from your misery. He just keeps on rescuing you, over and over again. A guy could get a complex about that. A guy might already have a complex about that, you think somewhat sullenly. A guy might be totally, hopelessly arse over complex.
As you approach, Terran's shoulders sag. If you didn't know better, you might say he even looked relieved to see you. The sting of your bruised pride begins to subside.
"Erik!" he says with exaggerated delight. "There you are, partner."
He emphasizes the last word so strongly that even you catch what he's hinting at. Also, in case you didn't, he takes your hand, his fingers interlocking between yours like the teeth of gears, and pulls you not-so-gently flush with his side.
Stumbling a little, you pitch nose-first into his hair, where the scent of his soap and sword oil catches in your throat. Oh sweet Yggdrasil, Terran smells so good. The road hangs on him like it was meant for him and him alone. Immediately you forget all about Lulubelle and the Elevating Vest and even your own name.
Then you right yourself before Terran catches you snorting his hair, whereupon you'd contract the very first case of fatal shypox. "Hey."
"Erik, this is Bunny." Terran's grip is so strong you couldn't break it, even if you wanted to. You can't imagine ever wanting to. "Bunny, this is my partner, Erik."
Again, with the emphasizing of the word 'partner'. Though the word sends shivers down your spine, Bunny doesn't appear likewise affected; she simply quirks her mouth a little and offers a simple, "Charmed."
Then you brain manages to catch up with your ears. "Wait a sec. Your name is Bunny?"
"Mmm-hmm."
"You're a bunny girl. Named Bunny."
"That's right."
"That's—I mean," You look at Terran, who's still got that too-large smile plastered on his face. "You gotta admit. That's pretty funny."
She tilts her head. "How?"
"Because. You're a—and—your—" You shake your head. Too late, you realize you probably should've kept your mouth shut. "Nevermind."
Though Bunny's expression hasn't changed at all, you get the distinct impression that she is enjoying watching you squirm. "If you say so."
"Anyway," says Terran, "You were right, Erik. Bunny said she'd be willing to let us play the high-roller tables, just this once."
"Oh yeah?" You quirk your eyebrow at Bunny, the little hairs on the back of your neck still standing up in alarm over the way she was sizing Terran up like a platter of steak. "Why? What do you get out of it?"
She shrugs. "It's a slow night. Also, you're cute." She rakes her gaze over you, top to bottom. "Both of you."
She winks.
Heat floods your cheeks. You sputter helplessly for something, anything to say, but Bunny has disarmed you as skillfully as a veteran martial artist. Forget fatal shypox; your fate will be death by bunny girl.
At that moment, Rab returns with three satchels of tokens. Thank Yggdrasil for him, you think for perhaps the first time ever. Rescuing is a family business, it seems.
"Some for you." He gives a bag to Terran. "—An' some for you," he adds, shoving a bag toward your chest. You have to let go of Terran's hand to take it, and once you do, your fingers feel cool and stiff and oddly wrong. "An' some for me."
With your open palm, you test the weight of the satchel. "I notice you kept the biggest bag for yourself."
"Of course!" Rab's mustache bristles. "Someone has to manage the pursestrings, an' I'm the only one of our merry lot who's ever seen the right side of a treasury."
"That's not… exactly true," you point out.
"Let him be," says Terran, putting his hand on your shoulder. "Best we not have the temptation, anyway."
"Fine." You take a seat next to Terran. "But maybe we can ix-nay on the oney-may talk in front of—" Pointedly, you cock your head in Bunny's direction.
Rab waves a dismissive hand. "Ach, she's not listenin' to an auld man's blather. Are ye, lass?"
Fluttering her eyelashes prettily, Bunny gives a sweet, innocent smile that's just short of convincing. "Listening to what?"
Rab grins. "See?"
You shake your head. For all Rab's years of traveling the world and slumming it with the commonfolk, he can be surprisingly dense about the seedier side of people. It's a good thing you didn't have to look after him in Downtown Heliodor. The rats down there would've eaten him for breakfast. You might've been one of them.
"Deal us up, lass, if ye would," says Rab, and Bunny deals out the cards.
The three of you play round after round of poker. You win some, you lose some—well, mostly lose. In fact, you're soon all out of tokens, even the 46 you walked in with. You watch Bunny closely for any sleight-of-hand, but to your dismay, you can't catch her doing anything. Luck must just not be on your side tonight. Or maybe you're just a crappy poker player.
Nah, it's probably just luck.
Terran's on a bit of a roll, though. His own pile of tokens has grown large enough to spill into Rab's much more modest collection.
Considering the stacks on the table, Rab says, "Mebbe ye should cash out, laddie. Better to quit while ye're ahead."
"No way! He's cleaning up." You grab Terran by the elbow and egg him on a little. "You can't stop now."
"Luck always has a way of running out," says Rab.
"Not for Yggie's favorite little leaf, it doesn't," you counter.
As Rab's eyebrows shoot upward so fast they're in danger of flying clean off his head, you realize you might have just said more than you meant to.
"Full house," says Bunny neutrally. "Nicely done!" Her teeth flash, bright as the shine off a knife edge. "Are you ready for round number one of Double or Nothing?"
Terran nods.
She deals out four cards, then turns over a five of shields.
You inspect the card. You've been keeping a pretty close eye on the cards since you ran out of token, and you think you've sussed out a pattern in the Double or Nothing. Too bad you couldn't have spotted it while you still had tokens, but, at least you can still help out Terran.
Before Terran can reach out his hand, you lean close and whisper into his ear, so that nobody else can hear, "First card."
"What what what?" Sylvando's voice rings out over the din like a struck bell. "Do I spy our fearless leader getting a kiss for luck?"
You startle back, a flush spreading across your cheeks. Sylv, Serena, Veronica and Jade have formed a semi-circle behind you and Terran; you'd been so focused on the game that you hadn't even noticed they'd returned.
Also you hadn't realized just how close you'd been sitting to Terran. Over the course of the past few rounds, you've slid farther and farther into his personal space, until your shoulders touched. Just now, your nose was practically up his eardrum. From Sylv's perspective, of course, it must have looked like—like—Oh shit.
"What? That's not what—I—what I was—" You force a laugh.
"No?" Sylv gasps, a hand fluttering to his chest. "Then you were waiting for me to do the honors? Why thank you, darlings."
Before you or Terran say a thing, Sylv sweeps Terran off his stool. Twirling him in his strong, manly embrace, Sylv dips him as if they are dancing and—with yet another wink your way—plants an excessively animated and noisy smackeroo right on Terran's mouth. Sylvando even moans, the throes of passion loud enough to be heard from the rafters.
"There," he says, setting a dazed Terran back on his feet. "That's how we did it back in the circus. Good luck, honey."
Terran blinks the stars out of his eyes, then smiles and shakes his head. Honestly, you can't even be mad. You get it. You'd probably be grinning like a fool, too, if Sylv had laid one on you like that.
Sitting back down, Terran picks up the first card, per your instructions.
It's a ten.
"Stake doubled," announces Bunny.
Around Terran, your companions cheer, while you and he trade fist bumps.
"You've won 60 tokens. You can play Double or Nothing to try and increase that to 120 tokens," says Bunny. "Are you ready for round two of Double Or Nothing?"
Terran nods. As she deals out the cards, his eyes flick to yours.
You scratch your cheek with three fingers.
Terran doesn't make any outward acknowledgement, but you've been with him long enough to know that he gets the message. He reaches for the third card.
Before he can get there, however, Sylv's hand shoots out like a cobra and grabs his wrist.
"Ah-ah-ah, honey." He wags one finger. "Don't you need more good luck first?"
Sylv winks again—sweet Yggdrasil, he's going to lose an eyeball with all that damn winking—and you're torn between undying love for him and a desire to throttle him by his collar-poofs.
You meet Terran's gaze, seeking consent and also the reassurance that he's as embarrassed as you are by Sylv's presumption. Instead, the hope you spot there could stop a rampaging coralossus in its tracks. Your breath catches. A sweet ache blooms behind your ribs.
He wants this.
He wants you to kiss him.
And you… well, you've never wanted anything more badly in your life.
With a sheepish shrug, you swallow your heart back down your throat and lean forward—
—only to collide, nose-first, with Serena's elbow.
"GOODY!" she cries, clapping her hands together. "I'LL GO NEXT."
Taking Terran's cheeks in both palms, Serena kisses him. Deeply. Very deeply. She's really going for it, actually; she's putting her whole back into it, and everything.
Helplessly you watch as Terran melts—disintegrates—into her touch, and you can't even blame him, really, because it's Serena, of all people; she is the way people feel when they pet kittens, like, all the time. Also, you're pretty sure she just slipped him the tongue.
Then, just like that, she lets Terran go.
"Uh." Beet-red, he clears his throat. "Thanks?"
"YOU'RE VERY WELCOME. I'VE ALWAYS WONDERED HOW THAT IS MEANT TO GO." She tilts her head, considering. "IT'S RATHER WET, ISN'T IT?"
With a chuckle, Terran turns back to the cards, turning over the third one. Over his head, Sylv shoots you an apologetic shrug.
"Joker," says Bunny. "Stake doubled."
Your companions cheer; Serena especially looks smug.
"Are you ready for round three of Double Or Nothing?" asks Bunny.
You hope he'll say yes. You pray he'll say yes. You'd crawl across the belly of Mt. Huji naked, just to get him to say yes. Let me kiss you, your body cries out to his. Let me hold you and taste your mouth against mine.
"Yes," he murmurs.
Swallowing hard, you stand up and catch his gaze. You can't look away. You won't look away. This time, nobody's going to get between the two of you. This time, you're definitely going to—
—Veronica hops up on the seat you have just vacated, then elbows you out of range.
"MOVE IT, SHORT STUFF," she orders.
You throw up your hands in frustration as she leans forward to cup Terran's cheeks with her hands, just like Serena did.
For one moment of pure, crystalline dread, you're terrified that Veronica kisses just like her sister. Thankfully, however, she doesn't; instead, she draws her face close to Terran's and, cheeks flushing, rubs her nose against his.
"SABRECAT KISS!" she giggles.
Terran laughs. You can't help but chuckle a little, too. That was almost cute enough to make you overlook your annoyance at her muscling in on your take. Almost.
As she hops down off the stool, Terran looks at you meaningfully, and it takes you a second to realize that he's actually waiting for your signal to select a card.
You blink four times in quick succession.
Terran draws the fourth card.
"Stake doubled," says Bunny.
Terran nods at her to continue.
Bunny deals her cards, then turns over a queen of swords. With amusement dancing in her eyes, she inspects your motley crew. "Well? Who's next for a spot of luck?"
You and Jade exchange glances. She looks unsettled, like she plans to contest this. But she's basically his sister; she's not going to want to kiss him… is she?
You eye her biceps, her flexed forearms. You could probably take her, if it came down to it. Not in a fair fight, of course. But if you pounced on her right now, if you went straight for her shins, she probably wouldn't get her leg up fast enough to kick you in the—
"Ugh." Jade rolls her eyes fondly. "Just get over here."
She tugs Terran by the arm and gives him a brief, sisterly peck on the cheek. As she's pulling away, she ruffles his hair. He makes a noise of protest, but there isn't any heat to it; he seems kind of pleased about it, actually.
Laughing shakily, you rub the back of your neck. It's just a game, of course; and all this talk of luck is just silly superstition; but also if you don't get to kiss Terran soon, you might just grab the little umbrella from Veronica's drink and shank each of your companions with it in turn.
While you try to reclaim some semblance of calm, Terran looks to you for a signal on which card to select. You tap your ear twice. Terran turns over the second card.
"Stake doubled," says Bunny.
She deals out another round.
You narrow your eyes. It's down to you and Rab now, and good ol' Rab, sweet ol' Rab, dear ol' Rab who you love like your own grandfather—surely he knows; surely he won't stand between you and—
"Ach, come 'ere, ye big ol' bairn." He gathers Terran up in his arms and presses a rather tender kiss right to his still-mussed pate. "There ye have it. Just like the auld days."
Terran laughs.
It's… beautiful. Just. Beautiful.
His delight surges through you like electricity, like lightning, and suddenly you realize that you really are being completely ridiculous, aren't you? Because this is what you wanted to give Terran all along, this. Not a fancy waistcoat, not even a kiss. Just… Happiness. Family. To lift his burden and set aside the worries in his heart, if only for a little while. To surround him with love, with good cheer.
To give him back everything he has lost.
To give him everything you never had.
You're so lost in thought that when Terran clears his throat to get your attention, you've completely lost track of the betting game before you.
"Oh, uh." You stare at the cards. What part of the pattern were you on? You cough twice.
Terran reaches for the second card.
His eyes dart to yours. You can't help but notice how short his breath has become; how pink his cheeks. At once, you realize what he's thinking.
If he makes this card flip, then—you and he—
"Two of swords. What a shame." Bunny's musical voice betrays little amusement as she gathers the cards back up. With a rake, she tugs the mountain of tokens in front of Terran back toward her side. "Would you like to play again?"
For a moment, you can only watch, stunned, as your companions groan raucously and complain.
Then you laugh.
You laugh and laugh and laugh.
It really is a silly game. You shouldn't have gotten your hopes twisted up in something that's so obviously rigged and out of your control.
Besides, when you kiss Terran—and you're sure now that it's a question of 'when' and not 'if'—the right moment won't be something you'll want to leave up to chance. And you especially won't want to do it in front of an audience.
You'll wait for the right moment. You'll take your time.
You'll do it right.
"Better luck next time," you say lightly. "You guys play; I'm gonna get a drink. You want something?"
"Desperately," says Terran, shaking out tension out of his hands. He slides off his stool. "I'll come with you."
The two of you make your way to the bar.
"Too bad about the game," you offer.
Terran shrugs. "I guess Rab was right. Luck can't last forever."
Twin points of color spot his cheeks. At the sight, warmth pools deep in your belly. Clearing your throat, you ask, "So what'll you have?"
"Beer, I guess."
"Coming right up." You order two pints of house-brew beer and grab a table with Terran. Kicking your boot up on the table, you breathe a sigh of relief. The game feels faraway now, and farther with every second. "So? How's your birthday going so far?"
"Pretty good, I guess." He takes a sip of his flagon. "Wow, this is—" he coughs, "—fruity."
Curious, you take a sip yourself, then gag. "Goddess, it's like I just got punched in the face by a peach." You inspect the contents of your flagon. "This is beer?"
Terran shrugs. "I guess in Puerto Valor it is."
You stick out your tongue. "All that sun is addling their taste buds, I guess."
"Yeah. It's no sombai," agrees Terran.
You laugh. "Lucky for us. That stuff was rat poison. I had a hangover for weeks."
"I'm still finding chalk in my duster."
"They're never gonna let us into Phnom Nonh again, you know."
He shrugs. "It's a stupid place, anyway."
"Can't argue that." You contemplate taking another sip of beer, then decide against it. "Terran, I—" you begin at the same time that he says, "Erik—"
"You first," he waves you on.
"Well. Um." You inhale, trying to figure out the best way to say what's on your mind without getting too sappy about it. "I just wanted to say, um, thanks for the birthday, you know? I'm glad I found you, man." You run your finger along the rim of your flagon. "I'm glad that, of all the prisons in all the world, you happened to be tossed into mine."
He grins into his beer. The pink spots on his cheeks have turned into a full-blown blush, which makes your heart race and race.
"Me too," he says. "Erik, there's, um, there's something I've been meaning to, uh, talk to you about."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. It's that—well—you and I have been traveling together for some time now, and you see, I—um, well—I—"
That's when you spot a couple of armed men behind Terran talking to Lulubelle. Your stomach flops. You recognize those men: They're the Heliodorian guards who've been vacationing on the beach for the past few weeks. Usually they mostly ignore you, but if they're here now, with swords and full kit, that can only mean one thing.
"Hold that thought," you whisper. "Don't look now, but we've got company. Heliodor."
Terran's eyes widen. He starts scanning the joint for exits, which is even more suspicious than if he'd craned his head backward and hollered a personal greeting to the guards. He hisses, "We have to get out of here!"
"No time." The guards are drifting your way, cutting off your exit. Your pulse pounds. There's nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. They'll be upon you soon.
What do you do? What do you do?
One of them looks in your direction.
Panicking, you do the first thing that comes to mind: You grab Terran's cheeks in your hands, tug him close and smush your face against his half-parted lips.
With a noise of protest, he pulls back just enough to gasp, "Wha—"
"Shut up and do it," you whisper into his mouth, before reapplying your lips to his and tangling your hands into his hair to give your performance some added conviction. You moan a little, just as Sylvando did earlier, but for some reason it doesn't sound quite so exaggerated coming out of your mouth.
You aren't really kissing him, you tell yourself. Not really. It's just for show, a simple bit of misdirection to lead the guards away. It's just… two body parts, touching each other. Like a high five, or a handshake.
Yeah. A handshake. That's all.
Terran tentatively slides his fingers along your jaw, his touch so gentle that it makes your breath hitch. Sweet Yggdrasil. It's a good thing this is all for show, because if it weren't—if you were actually kissing Terran for real—you might combust into flames on the spot. Even now, you feel a little hot around the tunic laces.
"—if he really is the Darkspawn, dunno why he'd be in here," you hear one of the guards say.
"Guess even ancient evil needs t' let down its hair once in awhile. Oy, get a load of 'em lads," snickers another, though you can barely hear him over your galloping pulse. "Pawin' at each other like they's invented it."
Under you Terran tenses, and you find yourself stroking his hair in what you hope is a somewhat soothing manner. They're buying it, you try to tell him with your touch. Don't stop now.
Or ever, adds your heart in traitorous parentheses.
That's when you remember about Terran's Mark. With his hand cupping your cheek as it is, the guards are sure to spot it. Dammit. Why can't the guy ever wear gloves, like a normal person?
Quickly, you grab his naked hand and pull it against your belly, so that the guards won't be able to see.
In response, Terran makes a soft little moan that you feel more than you hear, and for a moment, you forget about the guards entirely; Yggdrasil help you, but all conscious thought flees your brain except how you can get this beautiful, broken boy kissing you to make that beautiful, broken noise again.
"Oy, you two!" shouts one of the guards. "This ain't no puff-puff hotel. Keep yer hands where Yggdrasil can see 'em."
They cackle and move on.
When you can no longer hear the clank of metal, you reluctantly let Terran go, breaking off the kiss. You sigh the biggest sigh you've ever sighed—a sigh that probably shook the roof tiles of the hot springs in Hotto. You're relieved, you think.
For his part, Terran looks half-asleep.
"That—" He shakes his head, as if dispelling a dream. "That was—"
"—For the guards," you inform him, and remind yourself at the same time.
"Oh." He licks his lips. Yggdrasil help you, he licks his lips. "You got anything else for them?"
"Alright," you say sternly, adjusting the semi in your breeches as discreetly as you can. "Let's not push our luck. We need to get a move on."
Coming back to himself, Terran nods. "I'll round up the others."
"Go. I'll keep watch."
Terran scurries back to the poker tables. Within seconds, the party has gathered its things and is headed up the stairs. He turns back to you as a signal to follow.
You canter up the stairs as fast as you can without looking suspicious about it. As you pass the guards, you point over one of their pauldrons and say, "Hey, look at the bar! Does that guy's hair look a little too perfect to you?"
"Oy! It does!" replies one. The guards clank towards the bar.
When you get up the stairs, Terran is waiting for you. The others have gone on ahead; you can just see the tip of Jade's ponytail as she turns the corner.
"I bought us some time, I think," you tell him, adjusting your daggers. "We should beat it, though."
Terran nods. But he doesn't move.
"Uh. Did you hear me?" There's an intense gleam to his eye, like he's thinking of rushing back and taking on the guards all by himself. "We should—"
You swallow whatever words you were about to say next, as Terran falls into you, crushing you to the wall, sealing his lips to yours.
His mouth is soft, hungry. He tastes like aggressive peaches and heat and something else, something peculiarly Terran. One hand slides into your hair, the other curls at your waist, and he holds you gently, so gently, as if you are a bird whose wings he is in danger of breaking.
He kisses like he's asking a question, and you are the answer.
After a few seconds, he breaks away. His lips are wet, shining. His mouth curves into a smile.
"Happy birthday," he says.
Then he pats your cheek and runs off to follow the rest.
You breathe in. You breathe out. You try to remember how to move your legs, how to blink, how to do anything but stand there and be kissed by Terran; but no action you could possibly take seems as important as that anymore.
One day, your luck will run out. One day.
But, you think as a smile dawns on your lips, not today.