Previously on Sanctuary Road: Casey turned to Simon. “And you and I? We need to talk.”

  Simon, eyes bleak, nodded. “Yes. I am... sorry.”

  “Mm.” He wasn’t sure that Simon needed to apologize, precisely, but he led Simon outside and around to the back of the garage, where they’d have privacy. “Normally, I wouldn’t demand answers, Simon, but I need to know you’re not going to be a danger to anyone. That outweighs your right to consent, I believe. Was that a flashback?”

  Simon just looked at him, jaw gritted.

  “Do I need to define flashback to you, or is that concept translating into your language?” He kept his tone gentle but firm.

  Simon jerked his head in a quick nod. He understood the term.

  “I know you don’t like to talk about rough shit in your past, but I need to know what the trigger was.” He couldn’t let this go. Too much was at stake.

  Simon growled out, “Grimalkins are very, very good at illusions. They use them violently. I lost a very good friend, Prince Iorge, when the grimalkin band we were hunting cast a glamour upon us. We believed each other to be the enemy. I realized it was an illusion because grimalkins don’t wear shoes, and I heard booted footsteps, but my shouted warnings didn’t dissuade Iorge from attacking me. He thought they were mimicking my voice ... and I chose my survival over his.”

  Fuck, Casey thought. That explained not only Simon’s recent actions but also a few things he had said in the past. He held his arms open, impulsively. Surely, with a confession like that, it was okay to offer Simon a hug.

  Simon stared into an unseen middle distance for a long moment, but he wasn’t resisting the compulsion to follow Casey’s direction — he was just momentarily lost in a past nightmare. Then, Simon recognized the offer for what it was and stumbled forward. Casey held him close, feeling the man’s wiry muscles tremble. Simon was so small. He could rest his chin on the top of Simon’s head without even stretching.

  In a soft, terribly quiet voice, Simon recounted, “I killed my closest friend that night, in an apple orchard, by a river. When I slashed his leg to the bone with my sword, the spell dissipated. I saw what I had done, and that he was bleeding unto death. He stumbled backwards into the water. His body was never found, but they declared him dead after a year... and I cannot imagine that wound was survivable. I never told anyone it was I who killed the prince. There was a time I would have welcomed any punishment that came my way, even execution, but I simply could not admit, even to myself, that I had chosen my life over his.”

  He did not know what to say to that, so he simply tightened his arms around the other man.

  Simon admitted, “I thought Tara was casting a similar illusion upon us. She isn’t an enemy, but in that moment, it didn’t matter.”

  “Simon, I’m so sorry to be blunt, but I have to ask. Are you safe around Tara? Is there a chance this could happen again?”

  Simon pulled an arm free from Casey’s hug and wobbled his hand back and forth. Maybe. “For the most part. I don’t feel a compulsion to attack her, but if the circumstances are right, I can’t guarantee there won’t be a repeat. Terror is a powerful thing, even for men of reason, such as myself.”

  “What can we do to help keep everyone safe?”

  “Make it an order that I can never strike her.” Simon looked Casey in the eye. “I know you do not believe in violating my autonomy, but the compulsion of your explicit words is truly powerful. Her safety should come before my consent.”

  “But you know I don’t want you attacking her. Isn’t that enough?”

  “Defying your implied wishes is painful, but can be done, especially if I can convince myself that there is room for interpretation, or something is in your best interest. I cannot fight a clear and direct command for more than a fraction of a second.”

  Casey sucked in a breath, held it for a second, then let it out slowly. “I hate this idea.”

  Simon looked up at him, calm now. “Sometimes, we have to do things we hate for the greatest good. I do not wish to hurt her.”

  He nodded slowly. “Very well. You must never physically harm Tara unless Avery or I revoke this order.”

  “You’re giving Avery the ability to countermand your word on this?” Simon asked. He sounded only curious.

  “Avery might be the first to know if she’s up to something problematic. He won’t put up with shit from anyone, even someone he’s crushing on pretty hard.”

  “You don’t trust Tara?” Now Simon sounded very wary.

  “She has an incredible amount of potential, but she is very angry and very damaged. A lot of who she becomes in the future will be up to her. Sometimes, people choose to heal. Sometimes they don’t. Rarely, they simply can’t, but that isn’t the case for her.” He ran a hand over his face. “Is that order enough to keep her safe?”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “It should be.” Simon’s sigh whispered against Casey’s skin, warm through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. “Thank you. I am very proud to call you a friend.”

  “I try. And, uh, sorry for manhandling you earlier.”

  Simon shook his head against Casey’s chest. “It was necessary.”

  Casey leaned back so he could meet Simon’s gaze. The elf’s green eyes looked lost. “Still. I promise you this: The only time I’ll ever knowingly use the geas is if your safety, or somebody else’s, is at risk.”

  The elf nodded. “Casey, I’ve never told anyone about Iorge.”

  “If you want to talk, I’m here, and I will listen. We have time now, I think, or we can do it later, or never. It is entirely up to you.”

  Simon sniffed inelegantly, and Casey realized the elf was struggling to hold back tears. He swallowed a couple of times before saying, “Iorge was a good friend, Casey. Perhaps the best I ever had. He was the king’s third son, but he was... not popular with his father, as his father did not believe him sufficiently masculine, and thus assumed he was neither honorable nor brave. In truth, he was one of the kindest, most honest, and most courageous men I’ve ever known. We met as children and found companionship with one another, for we had many interests in common.”

  “Was he a lover?”

  Simon leaned his head against Casey’s shoulder. “I confessed to him that I did not prefer women when he tried one time too many to match me with a courtesan; he was the only person I ever trusted with that secret. Then he told me that he dreamed of me, in his bed as men usually envision women. However, he was a royal and had little true privacy. Servants talk. I feared any improper behavior between us would have been revealed, and they would have condemned me for it. He was not in the king’s favor, and ... Yienry guessed at my attraction to the prince and warned me that Iorge lacked the power to protect us... Yienry guessed at my inverted preferences when I was very young; I never had to tell him.”

  “I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say.

  Simon ran a finger down Casey’s sleeve, tracing a stripe in the pattern of his t-shirt. The brief touch raised goosebumps on Casey’s skin. Had it been anyone else, he would have reacted with a kiss to that casually intimate gesture. Simon, perhaps realizing that he was close to crossing an unspoken line between them, dropped his hand. “He was sixteen when he died. I was fifteen. Perhaps, if we’d had more time, and as we grew older, and he came into the power of his title, we’d have found a way to be safe... had he lived, he would have become the heir. Both his older brothers were assassinated, and no matter his father’s opinion of him — Eastland requires that the throne pass to a male heir.

  “I was not averse to, well, romancing him someday. I loved him, Casey. But just before he alluded to his attraction to me, a smallholder I knew was left to swing for the ravens over accusations of inverted desires. The risk didn’t feel worth it.”

  “Fuck. You were just kids.” He’d assumed this was a recent tale. Simon was in his mid-thirties, so Iorge’s death had happened twenty years previously.

  “I’ve always regretted that I never kissed him.” Simon rested a hand on Casey’s chest. “Casey, I know you’re attracted to me. I don’t want to regret...” he paused and swallowed before saying, gaze intent on Casey’s mouth, “If something happens, I don’t want to regret.”

  Casey closed his eyes. Simon sounded like he was consenting, but that could be entirely caused by the spell. This wasn’t right. Yet, the man was warm in his arms. It would be so easy to show him everything Casey knew.

  “Simon,” Casey said, and Simon looked up.

  He pressed a kiss to Simon’s lips, mouth closed, but pressure firm. He thought perhaps that he needed to strike a balance between comforting the Simon of now and considering the possible reaction of the ‘real’ Simon when the geas was lifted.

  Simon’s eyes had widened in wonder when Casey pulled back.

  Casey tucked a stray lock of platinum hair behind one of Simon’s delicately pointed ears and said, “When you have the ability to say no, and if you then want to say yes, then I’ll be waiting. Consider that a promise.”

  His Gift was deeply approving, both of the kiss they’d just shared and his decision to wait. Every time he focused on Simon, it sang with joy, in ways he’d never felt before. He’d never experienced this strong of a reaction from it before. He’d wait forever, until the time was right.

  The elf relaxed into Casey’s arms, head resting against Casey’s chest. After a moment of uncertainty, Casey hugged him close again and pressed another kiss to the top of his head. Surely, holding him for a bit would do no harm.

  After a moment, Simon said softly, “What if when we break the spell, my feelings for you turn out to be an illusion?”

  “Then we’ll just be friends.” Casey let go of him suddenly. After a second in which he swallowed back a protest to the effect of, his Gift said they could be far, far more than friends, he added firmly, “And I’m not going to do anything that will damage that friendship.”

  Simon looked up at Casey with wide green eyes. Then, he glanced away, and in a low voice of confession, he said, “Nadria’s right; I never would have acknowledged my desires, even to myself, without the magic pushing me along. Now, however, I know what it feels like to fully trust another man, and to freely admit I am attracted. I don’t want to lose this feeling. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “Simon—”

  Simon interrupted him, with a wince at the pain caused by the geas. “—Being bound to you isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, Casey. What happens if we cannot break the spell?”

  Casey sighed. He didn’t have a good answer to that. In a soft voice, as gentle as he could make it, he simply said, “I don’t want a partner who isn’t my equal.”

  Simon looked sharply away, face gone pale and eyes narrowed to slits. He’d taken that as a rebuke, and the geas had struck.

  “I want you to be my equal. I promise you, Simon. We’ll figure this out. Together. As a team.” What he did want was a free Simon, gorgeous and brilliant, with that sly sense of humor, coming to him without any outside coercion.

  Simon looked back up at him, green eyes wide. “Equals. Yes.”

  Casey repeated, “I promise. Equals... or not at all.”