Chapter 25: At His Command — The Key of Oslov

Volume 10: The Trip to Harbour

Chapter 25 At His Command

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

“You’re a shirker, Tilrey Bronn,” Gavril said.He was pacing the length of the cell, arms crossed and eyes bloodshot as if he hadn’t slept a wink. He skirted the mattress pad, where Krisha lay with his back to them and a blanket pulled over his head, seemingly dead to the world. He stalked back to Tilrey. “You told me this was all for Gersha. But you’ve been one of them the whole time, haven’t you?”“Yes.” Tilrey didn’t like wearing the coverall that Gersha had given him. It made him feel anonymous and—though he supposed this was hypocritical—a little demeaned after years in the jerkin that connoted his high-Laborer status.He made up for it by holding his head high. “I don’t have time to defend my beliefs or allegiances to you, Gavril. No one’s asking you to join the revolution. What I do need is your solemn promise to leave here, return to Placid with Krisha—like you were already planning to do, right?—and keep your mouth shut about everything you’ve seen here.”The sergeant snorted. “Solemn promise? That’s gonna go over real well with your Fir Egil. He wants to put me through the wringer till I betray the Republic, too. Which will never happen.” He stopped to fix Tilrey with a dramatic stare, every feature on his handsome face conveying martyrdom. “He’ll never let me leave here alive.”“Well, in that case, you’ve got nothing to lose, do you? Why not give my way a try?”“Because principles,” Gavril spat, and began pacing again. “You may not care about betraying Oslov, but I do.”“I care a lot about Oslov.” Gersha had warned Tilrey that Gavril would be stubborn. “But what if I told you we’re not betraying it, just making it truer to the principles you care so much about?”Gavril shook his head, muttering something that sounded like shirker bullshit. “We’re Drudges. Not my business or yours to decide how Oslov should be.”“Maybe not. But wouldn’t you like a version of Oslov where Krisha could come home and live with you, so you wouldn’t have to stay here for him?”At this point, Krisha rolled over and popped his head out of the blanket. “Wouldn’t go back to Oslov if I could,” he announced. “Fuck that cold. I’m going to inherit a house here.”“Right, right.” Tilrey returned his eyes to Gavril. Without the sergeant’s cooperation, he’d never be able to make his case to Egil. “Sergeant, you’ve served Oslov faithfully all your life. Wouldn’t you like it to do something for you for a change?”“Shut your trap for a second. Blah blah blah, all day long, both of you.” Krisha sat up and propped his elbows on his knees, glaring at them both. “This is the stupidest argument I ever heard. Gavi, just tell the head shirker what he needs to hear. If he wants intel, give it to him. Whatever it takes for him to let us out of this mess.”Gavril turned a scathing blue gaze on his lover. “I could never betray my brothers- and sisters-in-arms.”Tilrey cleared his throat. “You’d be surprised how many of those brothers and sisters are already with us.”They both ignored him, Krisha throwing Gavril’s belligerent gaze right back at him. “So you won’t betray a single precious Oslov soldier, but you want to betray me?”“The shirkers won’t hurt you. It’s me they want.”“Nah. But I—I—” Krisha opened his mouth, then stopped.“You what?” Gavril looked murderous.After a quick glance at Tilrey, Krisha started again: “I want—” He moved his mouth this time, but no words came out.Tilrey caught his eye, understanding. “Tell him, Krisha.”“Tell me what?”At last the words broke from Krisha in a flood: “I don’t want you to die here because of your stupid fucking loyalty! I want you to come back and live with me.”He eyed Gavril as if expecting a rebuke, shoulders hunched and head lowered, but Gavril just stared sullenly at the wall. Krisha went on, speeding up: “I want Fir Linnett to die, and then the house will be all ours. We’ll take his bedroom with the feather bed. I’ll tend the stables, maybe raise horses for sale, and you can do whatever you want. Maybe you can learn to cook like Jack. Or we can hire him to stay and cook for us, if he’s not too rich from his own inheritance. Whatever. But I want to sleep with you every night, and I never want you to touch anybody but me, and I want you to stop going on about stupid fucking Oslov. Oslov can never suck your cock like I do. It’s just snow and ice and a bunch of pretentious dicks in tunics getting buzzed on sap and making stupid rules. It’s not worth anybody dying for, ’specially you because I love you, and if you try to do something that stupid, I’ll kill you myself.”Out of breath, sweat beading on his brow, Krisha halted and swiped his face with his sleeve. “That’s what I want.”After a long moment, Gavril muttered, “You could’ve just said.” There was a new note in his voice, a distinct hint of capitulation.Tilrey rose to his feet. Nothing he could say would be a tenth as persuasive as what they’d just heard. “Well, Sergeant? Are you still determined to play the martyr?”Gersha bristled at the sight of two officers helping Tilrey out of the little ground-car. He sped across the grass and tried to offer his shoulder, but Tilrey was already making good progress on the crutches.“I want to see Egil next,” he said, shaking off Gersha’s hands as the car purred back down the road. “I asked them to take me to him, but they said I’d have to walk because it wasn’t ‘official police business.’ It’s as bad as Redda here!”“I don’t know where Ranek is, but we’ll see him at dinner. You need to sit down now, love, you’re pale. Come. Come.”With much coaxing and fussing, Gersha got Tilrey over to a bench under a wide maple, where he settled them both and offered some water. Tilrey did look pale, but a feverish flush appeared on his cheeks as he waved the canteen away and said, “Gavril’s going to cooperate. He’ll go back to Placid with Krisha and disappear there. We’ll tell Albertine he was killed when the Rogues attacked us on the road. I’ll work out a good story, trust me. We can tell her the truth about you hacking my tracker. You thought I was defecting, so you came after me—irresponsible, but you’re infatuated with me, and you’re allowed one slip-up. Eventually you caught up with me on my way back from Malsha’s, and—”“Rishka, please.” Gersha had been busy propping the crutches more stably against the tree. Now he wound an arm around Tilrey’s waist and turned him so they faced each other. “Don’t overstrain yourself. We’ve got time to work these things out.”“But we don’t.” Tilrey’s eyes were febrile. “Every day we’re away, Albertine gets more suspicious. We can say the Rogues chased us deep into the woods, and that’s how I got hurt. But the Duke’s guardsmen have no reason to back us up. We could bribe them—”“Actually, the guardsmen might very well back us up, if the Duke instructs them to.” Gersha repeated what Ranek had told him about the secret communications between Duke Dalziel and the True Hearth. It felt good to have knowledge that Tilrey would find of use, even if they never actually needed to use it.Tilrey listened intently, relaxing a little against Gersha’s arm. “No wonder Duke Dalziel doesn’t want a garrison of Oslov soldiers in Bettevy. He’s playing a dangerous game, trading with us and selling secrets to our enemy.”“Our enemy?” Gersha didn’t hold back an incredulous laugh. “Sweetheart, we are the enemy.”“You know what I mean.” Tilrey looked straight at him, those bright eyes narrowing. “You’ve only been here for what, a few days? How did you change your allegiance all of a sudden, Fir Councillor? I keep wondering if they’ve drugged you.”Gersha dropped his eyes. “Don’t call me that. It’s not who I am.”“How do you become another person so quickly, though?” Tilrey stroked Gersha’s knee, making his skin prickle through the coverall. “When we got here, you were afraid even to step outside. Now you don’t want to go home?”“It’s hard to explain,” Gersha said.He hadn’t told Tilrey yet about being kept in a swinging cage and pelted with pebbles, about learning to be likable, about watching men bleed out and being sure he was the next to die. Safe inside these walls, wearing this ugly coverall, he might as well have died in the forest and been reborn—as an Oslov, but a better kind of Oslov. One who’d given up his old, imprisoning privileges in exchange for new, intoxicating freedoms that he could enjoy with the person he adored most in the world.He cupped his hand over Tilrey’s and faced him again, tears clouding his vision. “Why would I want to return to a place where I’m expected to give you orders, and you’re expected to bow your head and obey? Where everyone thinks our bond is based on lust and convenience, and I’m just ‘infatuated’ with you? Things are different here, Rishka.”“Yeah, they’re certainly different.” Tilrey sounded impatient. “When we go back to Redda, we can work on making Oslov a better, fairer place, if that’s something you’re suddenly enthusiastic about. Believe me, I’m for it. This settlement, though—it’s not the goal, Gersha. It’s a tool in a larger struggle. It’s not self-sustaining, and it was never meant to be. As we’ve both seen, it still has prisons and interrogations, and for us, it is a prison. We need to go back where we belong and—”“We could get married, Tilrey.”“What?”Gersha had to lower his gaze again. His face was blazing, his chest and throat tight with the feelings he knew were spilling over in his eyes. “It’s permitted here,” he said, staring into the emerald grass. “It’s official. You could be my . . .”The word “husband” got trapped in his throat. He shook his head, suddenly terrified of the look he might see on Tilrey’s face.When Tilrey spoke again, though, he didn’t sound annoyed, only bemused. “I didn’t know that was something you wanted.”“I didn’t either. It wasn’t something I could even imagine. But now I know it is possible, somewhere—here—it’s all I can think about.” Gersha peeled Tilrey’s hand off his knee and clasped it, hard. “I want to be joined to you, officially, in front of everybody. I want everybody to know. So no one will ever look at us again and see a Councillor and a kettle boy.”After a moment, Tilrey went lax and rested his head on Gersha’s shoulder. That was what finally loosed Gersha’s tears.They sat there, hands and bodies entwined, Gersha shuddering a little. At last Tilrey said, “I’ve never thought of marriage that way, to be honest. Practically all the men who ever fucked me were married, and a lot of them hated their wives’ guts. It was a duty, not a choice.”“Your parents didn’t hate each other. When your mom talks about your father, it’s obvious she was madly in love with him.”“So she says. It’s easy to idealize a dead man. But what about your parents, Gersha? They had a love match, and they were miserable.”Gersha had been trying not to think about his parents. “That’s different. It was more lust than love in the end. My dad was weak, and my mom was sap-drowned. They weren’t anything like . . . well, like us.” The weight of Tilrey’s head on his shoulder gave him courage. “We’ve been together seven years. We’ve stood the test of time.”“Have we?”Gersha’s breath caught. “What happened at home—it doesn’t mean anything here. It’s over.”Tilrey lifted his head again and forced Gersha to meet his gaze. “Is that why you want to stay here? Because we can just erase the version of the past where I’m a traitor and you reject me? Pretend it never happened?”“It’s not like that.” But maybe it was, just a little. It was so much easier to sweep it all away than to face it.Behind them, a crystal-sharp female voice asked, “Am I interrupting a private moment?”A few moments ago, Gersha would have been irritated by the interruption, but now the sight of Celinda was a welcome distraction. She dashed over and hugged Tilrey before he could try to stand. Tilrey went rigid with his arms at his sides, face utterly blank, as if he were too startled to reciprocate.Celinda laughed. “Think you’re seeing a ghost, Rishka? Well, you certainly look good, except for that little mishap.” She gestured at his cast.He just stared at her. “Egil told me you got away. But I didn’t know you were here.”Celinda grinned in a way that struck Gersha as deliberately provocative and a little flirtatious. “In the flesh.”“Wearing a coverall with your hair in a sensible bun.” Tilrey scowled as if her teasing annoyed him. “I never thought I’d see that.”“Still mad at me? We’re on the same side now.” She turned to Gersha. “You have to understand, the last time Tilrey and I saw each other, I was, uh, playing a bit of a charade. Pretending to be a shirker to entrap him into a confession. Only I wasn’t actually pretending, was I?”“Layers on layers,” Tilrey muttered.“And he didn’t fall for any of my blandishments.” Celinda gave Tilrey’s shoulder a playful tap. “You should be proud, Gersha. It took a long, long time to turn this one into a shirker. He didn’t want to betray the Republic because he saw it as betraying you.”Gersha’s and Tilrey’s eyes met for a second before Tilrey looked away, his cheeks reddening. “Well, you haven’t changed, Celinda. Much as I’d like to sit around and reminisce, I need to talk to Egil.”“I was actually just coming to tell you he’ll see you now.” Her smile became all sweetness as she fetched the crutches from against the tree. “See that building across the way, with the big curved window in front? I’ll walk you over.”As Tilrey hauled himself up, Gersha rose, too, ready to help him across the green. But Celinda said, “Not you. I came to find you, too, for a different reason. Wait here.”Gersha protested, but Tilrey was already hobbling across the grass, his strong biceps making him surprisingly fast and agile. “This needs to be just me and Egil,” he said, turning back. “Classified stuff, so to speak. Be here when I get back, okay, love?”On the last word, he caught Gersha’s eye. Something passed between them that Gersha couldn’t name, and he sank obediently back down on the bench.He watched Celinda walk Tilrey to the building and open the door for him, feeling as if an invisible tether connected his chest to the disappearing form. Stretching it didn’t break it, but it hurt. He knew Tilrey’s efforts to persuade Ranek would end in disappointment, but he had to let him try anyway.Celinda’s words had surprised him. Tilrey had hinted that his participation in the True Hearth had been reluctant at first, but Gersha had dismissed that as an excuse. After all, you couldn’t just be a little treasonous. Besides, Tilrey was the one with the motive to rebel, the one who’d been nearly crushed by the system, over and over, in ways Gersha still cringed to think about.Had Tilrey really hesitated because of him, while Gersha, who had a vested interest in the system, had turned traitor in mere days? No wonder Tilrey could barely believe it.Was Tilrey right in what he’d said earlier? Had Gersha resigned himself to his fate so easily because, on some level, he wanted to escape into this world of green? He’d hated the coverall at first, hated the sameness, and yet, and yet—“Reunited with your true love, and here you sit brooding.”Gersha did his best to glare at Celinda. He hadn’t been able to dislike her since he witnessed her patience and gentleness with the woods-clan girls, and even her teasing was growing on him. “I tried to tell him to hold off. But he has it in his head that he can persuade Ranek to let us go home like nothing’s happened.”“Maybe he can.”He shook his head. “Don’t joke about that.”“Why wouldn’t Tilrey be able to persuade him? Because Ranek is—was—an Upstart?” That mocking smile was on her lips again. “That’s never stopped Tilrey from convincing you to do things, has it?”A blush stained Gersha’s cheeks. “That’s different—you should understand. What did you want me for, anyway? Tilrey wants me to wait here.”“At his command, eh?” Celinda winked. “Oh, you can wait. But when you’re done here, I’ve got somebody who wants to see you before dinner. She says she needs to make sure we’re not hurting you.”“Peony?” His heart leapt—but how could she already be here?“Peony.” Celinda rolled her eyes, but he knew she wasn’t really annoyed. “She came before we even got the message to her. Waylaid one of our foraging teams in the woods and demanded to be taken to you. Let me tell you, that girl is a handful.”Egil asked, “Off the painkillers now?”“The heavy ones, yes. My brain’s quite clear.” Tilrey settled himself in a chair across the conference table and propped up his crutches. He faced the interrogator’s cagey dark eyes, remembering all the times they’d matched wits before, first in the Int/Sec cell and then in the empty apartment where Egil had attempted to give him an education in Dissidence. “Gersha told me all about the treason he committed for you last night,” he said. “Or should I say the treason you extorted from him?”Egil smiled thinly. “Gersha isn’t a child. He knew exactly what he was doing, and I paid a hefty price for it. Your sergeant could have been a valuable resource, but I’ve promised not to touch him.”“He’s not a resource, he’s a man. An innocent bystander.” Tilrey didn’t let his gaze waver. “And I’ve secured his pledge to keep quiet about this place. You’re going to allow him to defect and disappear into Resurgence the way he originally planned. Then you’re going to let us go.”Egil opened his mouth, but Tilrey went on: “It’s the only way. A massive search for Gersha would end badly for the Southern Hearth.”“Ah, but what if the search proceeds in a different direction? What if the Duke tells Albertine that Gersha went north to find you, toward the town of Senjy, and vanished there?”The misdirection might work, Tilrey had to admit. For all his doubts about Egil’s morality, the man’s steely determination got things done.Most of the time—because even Ranek Egil had his moments of weakness and miscalculation. Tilrey happened to be well informed about one misstep in particular, the one that had landed him here. “I met a friend of yours from Int/Sec,” he said. “A bright young Raised named Bors Dartán.”Ranek blinked a bit too hard. “Poor kid. How was he?”“Unpleasant and very dogged and dogmatic. I believe he was the one who got you arrested?”“I know. An error of judgment on my part.” Ranek’s eyes wandered almost wistfully around the room. “Hubris, perhaps. He seemed so naïve, so receptive, and he is Irin’s cousin. I thought I could turn him.”Tilrey allowed himself a cold smile. “I made a little error of judgment with Dartán myself. He’s cleverer than he lets on. He ended up ratting me out to Gersha.”“I was wondering how Gersha found out.” Egil propped his head on a hand and regarded Tilrey sidelong. “I didn’t think you’d be naïve enough to confess to him in a romantic fit of frankness.”“Oh, I haven’t been naïve for a long, long time, Ranek.” Tilrey wasn’t sure he’d ever used Egil’s first name before, but now it felt natural, just as holding his gaze did. They weren’t an interrogator and a prisoner anymore, or even an Upstart and a Laborer. They were comrades-in-arms, and he wasn’t going to be the one who took orders anymore.“We’re on the same side,” he continued, “and I think you’ll find it’s in everyone’s interest for you to allow us to leave and continue our work in Redda.”“Of course we’d like your work to continue. I said so yesterday. But it’s too risky, and this settlement survives by minimizing risk. I can’t depend on your sergeant’s word.”“I vouch for him. He has a very strong motivation to disappear. There’s something more important, though, Ranek—something you don’t know about. It could change the course of the revolution, for good or ill, and if you keep us prisoners here, you may spend your life wondering whether you could have steered events instead of falling victim to them.”The interrogator sighed. “I know you’re a political strategist now, but enough of the vague crap. Do you have a card up your sleeve again? Lay it on me. This better be good.”Tilrey prayed to everything green that it was good enough. “Before I came here, as I think you know, I spent time with the exile—Malsha Linnett. And he gave me some very interesting, if incomplete, information.”*It took nearly two hours for Tilrey to emerge. When he did, Gersha, who’d been watching the glass-fronted building, jogged over to offer his help.He had every expectation of being rebuffed, so he was surprised when Tilrey gave him one crutch and slung an arm over his shoulder, looking gray and a little drained. “I want to sit down again.”Gersha found a bench in a bay on the building’s flank, where bees buzzed among tall purple-headed flowers. “Maybe I should go get the chair.”“No! I just need to catch my breath.” Tilrey leaned back against the building, catching both Gersha’s hands in his. “Then we have to start packing and prepping, because we’re leaving tomorrow.”Gersha nearly pulled away. “We’re—what?”“Don’t argue with me, sweetheart. Please.” Tilrey closed his eyes. “I just came from a long and rather acrimonious debate. I won, but barely, and I can’t face any more of that right now.”“With Ranek? He said yes?” For a wild instant, Gersha wondered if Tilrey could be delirious. But he seemed rational, just exhausted. “How on earth?” he asked—and then wanted to take the words back, because somehow they’d sounded like an accusation.“I’ll explain everything soon enough, love, believe me. I’ve made Ranek a promise, and I’ll need your help to carry it out.” Tilrey’s fingers tightened around Gersha’s. “We’re in this together now, aren’t we?”He made a promise. He made a deal with Ranek that involves me, and I don’t even know the terms. For an instant, Gersha’s throat was choked with injured pride, but it made no sense to protest. He wanted to leave, didn’t he? Of course he wanted to leave. To go home. As long as they went together, he would go anywhere.He didn’t like having arrangements made for him, behind his back. But as he absorbed this new reality, he couldn’t help feeling a sneaky swell of joy at his lover’s triumph. Gersha might be good at quoting Whyberg and giving speeches, but Tilrey was the real politician and always had been. Was it so bad to admit that to himself?If only he could feel more enthusiastic about leaving.After a long moment, he squeezed Tilrey’s hands and raised them to his lips for a kiss. “We’re in this together.”

“You’re a shirker, Tilrey Bronn,” Gavril said.

He was pacing the length of the cell, arms crossed and eyes bloodshot as if he hadn’t slept a wink. He skirted the mattress pad, where Krisha lay with his back to them and a blanket pulled over his head, seemingly dead to the world. He stalked back to Tilrey. “You told me this was all for Gersha. But you’ve been one of them the whole time, haven’t you?”

“Yes.” Tilrey didn’t like wearing the coverall that Gersha had given him. It made him feel anonymous and—though he supposed this was hypocritical—a little demeaned after years in the jerkin that connoted his high-Laborer status.

He made up for it by holding his head high. “I don’t have time to defend my beliefs or allegiances to you, Gavril. No one’s asking you to join the revolution. What I do need is your solemn promise to leave here, return to Placid with Krisha—like you were already planning to do, right?—and keep your mouth shut about everything you’ve seen here.”

The sergeant snorted. “Solemn promise? That’s gonna go over real well with your Fir Egil. He wants to put me through the wringer till I betray the Republic, too. Which will never happen.” He stopped to fix Tilrey with a dramatic stare, every feature on his handsome face conveying martyrdom. “He’ll never let me leave here alive.”

“Well, in that case, you’ve got nothing to lose, do you? Why not give my way a try?”

“Because principles,” Gavril spat, and began pacing again. “You may not care about betraying Oslov, but I do.”

“I care a lot about Oslov.” Gersha had warned Tilrey that Gavril would be stubborn. “But what if I told you we’re not betraying it, just making it truer to the principles you care so much about?”

Gavril shook his head, muttering something that sounded like shirker bullshit. “We’re Drudges. Not my business or yours to decide how Oslov should be.”

“Maybe not. But wouldn’t you like a version of Oslov where Krisha could come home and live with you, so you wouldn’t have to stay here for him?”

At this point, Krisha rolled over and popped his head out of the blanket. “Wouldn’t go back to Oslov if I could,” he announced. “Fuck that cold. I’m going to inherit a house here.”

“Right, right.” Tilrey returned his eyes to Gavril. Without the sergeant’s cooperation, he’d never be able to make his case to Egil. “Sergeant, you’ve served Oslov faithfully all your life. Wouldn’t you like it to do something for you for a change?”

“Shut your trap for a second. Blah blah blah, all day long, both of you.” Krisha sat up and propped his elbows on his knees, glaring at them both. “This is the stupidest argument I ever heard. Gavi, just tell the head shirker what he needs to hear. If he wants intel, give it to him. Whatever it takes for him to let us out of this mess.”

Gavril turned a scathing blue gaze on his lover. “I could never betray my brothers- and sisters-in-arms.”

Tilrey cleared his throat. “You’d be surprised how many of those brothers and sisters are already with us.”

They both ignored him, Krisha throwing Gavril’s belligerent gaze right back at him. “So you won’t betray a single precious Oslov soldier, but you want to betray me?”

“The shirkers won’t hurt you. It’s me they want.”

“Nah. But I—I—” Krisha opened his mouth, then stopped.

“You what?” Gavril looked murderous.

After a quick glance at Tilrey, Krisha started again: “I want—” He moved his mouth this time, but no words came out.

Tilrey caught his eye, understanding. “Tell him, Krisha.”

“Tell me what?”

At last the words broke from Krisha in a flood: “I don’t want you to die here because of your stupid fucking loyalty! I want you to come back and live with me.”

He eyed Gavril as if expecting a rebuke, shoulders hunched and head lowered, but Gavril just stared sullenly at the wall. Krisha went on, speeding up: “I want Fir Linnett to die, and then the house will be all ours. We’ll take his bedroom with the feather bed. I’ll tend the stables, maybe raise horses for sale, and you can do whatever you want. Maybe you can learn to cook like Jack. Or we can hire him to stay and cook for us, if he’s not too rich from his own inheritance. Whatever. But I want to sleep with you every night, and I never want you to touch anybody but me, and I want you to stop going on about stupid fucking Oslov. Oslov can never suck your cock like I do. It’s just snow and ice and a bunch of pretentious dicks in tunics getting buzzed on sap and making stupid rules. It’s not worth anybody dying for, ’specially you because I love you, and if you try to do something that stupid, I’ll kill you myself.”

Out of breath, sweat beading on his brow, Krisha halted and swiped his face with his sleeve. “That’s what I want.”

After a long moment, Gavril muttered, “You could’ve just said.” There was a new note in his voice, a distinct hint of capitulation.

Tilrey rose to his feet. Nothing he could say would be a tenth as persuasive as what they’d just heard. “Well, Sergeant? Are you still determined to play the martyr?”

Gersha bristled at the sight of two officers helping Tilrey out of the little ground-car. He sped across the grass and tried to offer his shoulder, but Tilrey was already making good progress on the crutches.

“I want to see Egil next,” he said, shaking off Gersha’s hands as the car purred back down the road. “I asked them to take me to him, but they said I’d have to walk because it wasn’t ‘official police business.’ It’s as bad as Redda here!”

“I don’t know where Ranek is, but we’ll see him at dinner. You need to sit down now, love, you’re pale. Come. Come.”

With much coaxing and fussing, Gersha got Tilrey over to a bench under a wide maple, where he settled them both and offered some water. Tilrey did look pale, but a feverish flush appeared on his cheeks as he waved the canteen away and said, “Gavril’s going to cooperate. He’ll go back to Placid with Krisha and disappear there. We’ll tell Albertine he was killed when the Rogues attacked us on the road. I’ll work out a good story, trust me. We can tell her the truth about you hacking my tracker. You thought I was defecting, so you came after me—irresponsible, but you’re infatuated with me, and you’re allowed one slip-up. Eventually you caught up with me on my way back from Malsha’s, and—”

“Rishka, please.” Gersha had been busy propping the crutches more stably against the tree. Now he wound an arm around Tilrey’s waist and turned him so they faced each other. “Don’t overstrain yourself. We’ve got time to work these things out.”

“But we don’t.” Tilrey’s eyes were febrile. “Every day we’re away, Albertine gets more suspicious. We can say the Rogues chased us deep into the woods, and that’s how I got hurt. But the Duke’s guardsmen have no reason to back us up. We could bribe them—”

“Actually, the guardsmen might very well back us up, if the Duke instructs them to.” Gersha repeated what Ranek had told him about the secret communications between Duke Dalziel and the True Hearth. It felt good to have knowledge that Tilrey would find of use, even if they never actually needed to use it.

Tilrey listened intently, relaxing a little against Gersha’s arm. “No wonder Duke Dalziel doesn’t want a garrison of Oslov soldiers in Bettevy. He’s playing a dangerous game, trading with us and selling secrets to our enemy.”

“Our enemy?” Gersha didn’t hold back an incredulous laugh. “Sweetheart, we are the enemy.”

“You know what I mean.” Tilrey looked straight at him, those bright eyes narrowing. “You’ve only been here for what, a few days? How did you change your allegiance all of a sudden, Fir Councillor? I keep wondering if they’ve drugged you.”

Gersha dropped his eyes. “Don’t call me that. It’s not who I am.”

“How do you become another person so quickly, though?” Tilrey stroked Gersha’s knee, making his skin prickle through the coverall. “When we got here, you were afraid even to step outside. Now you don’t want to go home?”

“It’s hard to explain,” Gersha said.

He hadn’t told Tilrey yet about being kept in a swinging cage and pelted with pebbles, about learning to be likable, about watching men bleed out and being sure he was the next to die. Safe inside these walls, wearing this ugly coverall, he might as well have died in the forest and been reborn—as an Oslov, but a better kind of Oslov. One who’d given up his old, imprisoning privileges in exchange for new, intoxicating freedoms that he could enjoy with the person he adored most in the world.

He cupped his hand over Tilrey’s and faced him again, tears clouding his vision. “Why would I want to return to a place where I’m expected to give you orders, and you’re expected to bow your head and obey? Where everyone thinks our bond is based on lust and convenience, and I’m just ‘infatuated’ with you? Things are different here, Rishka.”

“Yeah, they’re certainly different.” Tilrey sounded impatient. “When we go back to Redda, we can work on making Oslov a better, fairer place, if that’s something you’re suddenly enthusiastic about. Believe me, I’m for it. This settlement, though—it’s not the goal, Gersha. It’s a tool in a larger struggle. It’s not self-sustaining, and it was never meant to be. As we’ve both seen, it still has prisons and interrogations, and for us, it is a prison. We need to go back where we belong and—”

“We could get married, Tilrey.”

“What?”

Gersha had to lower his gaze again. His face was blazing, his chest and throat tight with the feelings he knew were spilling over in his eyes. “It’s permitted here,” he said, staring into the emerald grass. “It’s official. You could be my . . .”

The word “husband” got trapped in his throat. He shook his head, suddenly terrified of the look he might see on Tilrey’s face.

When Tilrey spoke again, though, he didn’t sound annoyed, only bemused. “I didn’t know that was something you wanted.”

“I didn’t either. It wasn’t something I could even imagine. But now I know it is possible, somewhere—here—it’s all I can think about.” Gersha peeled Tilrey’s hand off his knee and clasped it, hard. “I want to be joined to you, officially, in front of everybody. I want everybody to know. So no one will ever look at us again and see a Councillor and a kettle boy.”

After a moment, Tilrey went lax and rested his head on Gersha’s shoulder. That was what finally loosed Gersha’s tears.

They sat there, hands and bodies entwined, Gersha shuddering a little. At last Tilrey said, “I’ve never thought of marriage that way, to be honest. Practically all the men who ever fucked me were married, and a lot of them hated their wives’ guts. It was a duty, not a choice.”

“Your parents didn’t hate each other. When your mom talks about your father, it’s obvious she was madly in love with him.”

“So she says. It’s easy to idealize a dead man. But what about your parents, Gersha? They had a love match, and they were miserable.”

Gersha had been trying not to think about his parents. “That’s different. It was more lust than love in the end. My dad was weak, and my mom was sap-drowned. They weren’t anything like . . . well, like us.” The weight of Tilrey’s head on his shoulder gave him courage. “We’ve been together seven years. We’ve stood the test of time.”

“Have we?”

Gersha’s breath caught. “What happened at home—it doesn’t mean anything here. It’s over.”

Tilrey lifted his head again and forced Gersha to meet his gaze. “Is that why you want to stay here? Because we can just erase the version of the past where I’m a traitor and you reject me? Pretend it never happened?”

“It’s not like that.” But maybe it was, just a little. It was so much easier to sweep it all away than to face it.

Behind them, a crystal-sharp female voice asked, “Am I interrupting a private moment?”

A few moments ago, Gersha would have been irritated by the interruption, but now the sight of Celinda was a welcome distraction. She dashed over and hugged Tilrey before he could try to stand. Tilrey went rigid with his arms at his sides, face utterly blank, as if he were too startled to reciprocate.

Celinda laughed. “Think you’re seeing a ghost, Rishka? Well, you certainly look good, except for that little mishap.” She gestured at his cast.

He just stared at her. “Egil told me you got away. But I didn’t know you were here.”

Celinda grinned in a way that struck Gersha as deliberately provocative and a little flirtatious. “In the flesh.”

“Wearing a coverall with your hair in a sensible bun.” Tilrey scowled as if her teasing annoyed him. “I never thought I’d see that.”

“Still mad at me? We’re on the same side now.” She turned to Gersha. “You have to understand, the last time Tilrey and I saw each other, I was, uh, playing a bit of a charade. Pretending to be a shirker to entrap him into a confession. Only I wasn’t actually pretending, was I?”

“Layers on layers,” Tilrey muttered.

“And he didn’t fall for any of my blandishments.” Celinda gave Tilrey’s shoulder a playful tap. “You should be proud, Gersha. It took a long, long time to turn this one into a shirker. He didn’t want to betray the Republic because he saw it as betraying you.”

Gersha’s and Tilrey’s eyes met for a second before Tilrey looked away, his cheeks reddening. “Well, you haven’t changed, Celinda. Much as I’d like to sit around and reminisce, I need to talk to Egil.”

“I was actually just coming to tell you he’ll see you now.” Her smile became all sweetness as she fetched the crutches from against the tree. “See that building across the way, with the big curved window in front? I’ll walk you over.”

As Tilrey hauled himself up, Gersha rose, too, ready to help him across the green. But Celinda said, “Not you. I came to find you, too, for a different reason. Wait here.”

Gersha protested, but Tilrey was already hobbling across the grass, his strong biceps making him surprisingly fast and agile. “This needs to be just me and Egil,” he said, turning back. “Classified stuff, so to speak. Be here when I get back, okay, love?”

On the last word, he caught Gersha’s eye. Something passed between them that Gersha couldn’t name, and he sank obediently back down on the bench.

He watched Celinda walk Tilrey to the building and open the door for him, feeling as if an invisible tether connected his chest to the disappearing form. Stretching it didn’t break it, but it hurt. He knew Tilrey’s efforts to persuade Ranek would end in disappointment, but he had to let him try anyway.

Celinda’s words had surprised him. Tilrey had hinted that his participation in the True Hearth had been reluctant at first, but Gersha had dismissed that as an excuse. After all, you couldn’t just be a little treasonous. Besides, Tilrey was the one with the motive to rebel, the one who’d been nearly crushed by the system, over and over, in ways Gersha still cringed to think about.

Had Tilrey really hesitated because of him, while Gersha, who had a vested interest in the system, had turned traitor in mere days? No wonder Tilrey could barely believe it.

Was Tilrey right in what he’d said earlier? Had Gersha resigned himself to his fate so easily because, on some level, he wanted to escape into this world of green? He’d hated the coverall at first, hated the sameness, and yet, and yet—

“Reunited with your true love, and here you sit brooding.”

Gersha did his best to glare at Celinda. He hadn’t been able to dislike her since he witnessed her patience and gentleness with the woods-clan girls, and even her teasing was growing on him. “I tried to tell him to hold off. But he has it in his head that he can persuade Ranek to let us go home like nothing’s happened.”

“Maybe he can.”

He shook his head. “Don’t joke about that.”

“Why wouldn’t Tilrey be able to persuade him? Because Ranek is—was—an Upstart?” That mocking smile was on her lips again. “That’s never stopped Tilrey from convincing you to do things, has it?”

A blush stained Gersha’s cheeks. “That’s different—you should understand. What did you want me for, anyway? Tilrey wants me to wait here.”

“At his command, eh?” Celinda winked. “Oh, you can wait. But when you’re done here, I’ve got somebody who wants to see you before dinner. She says she needs to make sure we’re not hurting you.”

“Peony?” His heart leapt—but how could she already be here?

“Peony.” Celinda rolled her eyes, but he knew she wasn’t really annoyed. “She came before we even got the message to her. Waylaid one of our foraging teams in the woods and demanded to be taken to you. Let me tell you, that girl is a handful.”

Egil asked, “Off the painkillers now?”

“The heavy ones, yes. My brain’s quite clear.” Tilrey settled himself in a chair across the conference table and propped up his crutches. He faced the interrogator’s cagey dark eyes, remembering all the times they’d matched wits before, first in the Int/Sec cell and then in the empty apartment where Egil had attempted to give him an education in Dissidence. “Gersha told me all about the treason he committed for you last night,” he said. “Or should I say the treason you extorted from him?”

Egil smiled thinly. “Gersha isn’t a child. He knew exactly what he was doing, and I paid a hefty price for it. Your sergeant could have been a valuable resource, but I’ve promised not to touch him.”

“He’s not a resource, he’s a man. An innocent bystander.” Tilrey didn’t let his gaze waver. “And I’ve secured his pledge to keep quiet about this place. You’re going to allow him to defect and disappear into Resurgence the way he originally planned. Then you’re going to let us go.”

Egil opened his mouth, but Tilrey went on: “It’s the only way. A massive search for Gersha would end badly for the Southern Hearth.”

“Ah, but what if the search proceeds in a different direction? What if the Duke tells Albertine that Gersha went north to find you, toward the town of Senjy, and vanished there?”

The misdirection might work, Tilrey had to admit. For all his doubts about Egil’s morality, the man’s steely determination got things done.

Most of the time—because even Ranek Egil had his moments of weakness and miscalculation. Tilrey happened to be well informed about one misstep in particular, the one that had landed him here. “I met a friend of yours from Int/Sec,” he said. “A bright young Raised named Bors Dartán.”

Ranek blinked a bit too hard. “Poor kid. How was he?”

“Unpleasant and very dogged and dogmatic. I believe he was the one who got you arrested?”

“I know. An error of judgment on my part.” Ranek’s eyes wandered almost wistfully around the room. “Hubris, perhaps. He seemed so naïve, so receptive, and he is Irin’s cousin. I thought I could turn him.”

Tilrey allowed himself a cold smile. “I made a little error of judgment with Dartán myself. He’s cleverer than he lets on. He ended up ratting me out to Gersha.”

“I was wondering how Gersha found out.” Egil propped his head on a hand and regarded Tilrey sidelong. “I didn’t think you’d be naïve enough to confess to him in a romantic fit of frankness.”

“Oh, I haven’t been naïve for a long, long time, Ranek.” Tilrey wasn’t sure he’d ever used Egil’s first name before, but now it felt natural, just as holding his gaze did. They weren’t an interrogator and a prisoner anymore, or even an Upstart and a Laborer. They were comrades-in-arms, and he wasn’t going to be the one who took orders anymore.

“We’re on the same side,” he continued, “and I think you’ll find it’s in everyone’s interest for you to allow us to leave and continue our work in Redda.”

“Of course we’d like your work to continue. I said so yesterday. But it’s too risky, and this settlement survives by minimizing risk. I can’t depend on your sergeant’s word.”

“I vouch for him. He has a very strong motivation to disappear. There’s something more important, though, Ranek—something you don’t know about. It could change the course of the revolution, for good or ill, and if you keep us prisoners here, you may spend your life wondering whether you could have steered events instead of falling victim to them.”

The interrogator sighed. “I know you’re a political strategist now, but enough of the vague crap. Do you have a card up your sleeve again? Lay it on me. This better be good.”

Tilrey prayed to everything green that it was good enough. “Before I came here, as I think you know, I spent time with the exile—Malsha Linnett. And he gave me some very interesting, if incomplete, information.”

It took nearly two hours for Tilrey to emerge. When he did, Gersha, who’d been watching the glass-fronted building, jogged over to offer his help.

He had every expectation of being rebuffed, so he was surprised when Tilrey gave him one crutch and slung an arm over his shoulder, looking gray and a little drained. “I want to sit down again.”

Gersha found a bench in a bay on the building’s flank, where bees buzzed among tall purple-headed flowers. “Maybe I should go get the chair.”

“No! I just need to catch my breath.” Tilrey leaned back against the building, catching both Gersha’s hands in his. “Then we have to start packing and prepping, because we’re leaving tomorrow.”

Gersha nearly pulled away. “We’re—what?”

“Don’t argue with me, sweetheart. Please.” Tilrey closed his eyes. “I just came from a long and rather acrimonious debate. I won, but barely, and I can’t face any more of that right now.”

“With Ranek? He said yes?” For a wild instant, Gersha wondered if Tilrey could be delirious. But he seemed rational, just exhausted. “How on earth?” he asked—and then wanted to take the words back, because somehow they’d sounded like an accusation.

“I’ll explain everything soon enough, love, believe me. I’ve made Ranek a promise, and I’ll need your help to carry it out.” Tilrey’s fingers tightened around Gersha’s. “We’re in this together now, aren’t we?”

He made a promise. He made a deal with Ranek that involves me, and I don’t even know the terms. For an instant, Gersha’s throat was choked with injured pride, but it made no sense to protest. He wanted to leave, didn’t he? Of course he wanted to leave. To go home. As long as they went together, he would go anywhere.

He didn’t like having arrangements made for him, behind his back. But as he absorbed this new reality, he couldn’t help feeling a sneaky swell of joy at his lover’s triumph. Gersha might be good at quoting Whyberg and giving speeches, but Tilrey was the real politician and always had been. Was it so bad to admit that to himself?

If only he could feel more enthusiastic about leaving.

After a long moment, he squeezed Tilrey’s hands and raised them to his lips for a kiss. “We’re in this together.”

Chapter End Notes

I think it was De_Borah who reminded me that Gersha needs to apologize. Anyway, thank you, because he sure does! (I thought it was in this chapter, but it’s actually the next one. And possibly various future chapters. :) )The next chapter will be a long one with maybe a bit of fluff in it. :) I think the whole story is going to top out at 100k words, but there are a lot of loose ends to tie up! I understand now why SFF novels are so huge. :) Thank you for reading, kudo-ing, commenting! I love it. <3

Chapter End Notes

The next chapter will be a long one with maybe a bit of fluff in it. :) I think the whole story is going to top out at 100k words, but there are a lot of loose ends to tie up! I understand now why SFF novels are so huge. :) Thank you for reading, kudo-ing, commenting! I love it. <3