It wasn’t until they stopped for the evening that Til got the answers to his questions.

  A few more hours of riding brought them to a slightly larger village, one that was actually big enough to have a proper inn, where Noan got them a room. Just one, strangely enough.

  Noan led the boy up the stairs to one of the rooms, being clear in apparently reminding the boy to lift his legs enough to avoid hurting himself on the stairs. Til followed, his concern and curiosity warred for attention, mixing and swirling in the front of his mind like there was something he could actually do. Still, without knowing, he simply had to wait and see what had happened, what was going to happen.

  With some inkling that whatever it was was going to result in a situation, Til made Ray wait for them downstairs, leaving the babe with her just in case. He wasn’t certain, but it was better to ensure that they weren’t nearby in case the situation turned dangerous.

  Opening the door, Til finds Noan and the boy standing on opposite sides of the room; the boy remains blank, while Noan appears nervous. He gestures the knight in without taking his eyes off the boy.

  A transformation befalls the boy as Til closes the door.

  He blinks, then his face contorts in rage, his body going from lax to taunt with anger. Rounding on Noan, the boy seems to take up twice the space he did but a moment before, rage lighting up his eyes, visible in every inch of his form.

  “You used mind magic on me!” He bellows at the wizard, taking the smallest step back at the noise.

  “I did.” Noan agrees, without hesitation. He creeps a little more forward, regaining the ground lost, and continues, “I had to. I did it for your own good, for the good of your sisters, I promise you. They’ll be well taken care of in your absence-”

  The boy doesn’t care, shaking his head, his voice only barely quieter than a second before, “I want to leave, I need to get back to them. They must think I’ve abandoned them.”

  Noan creeps closer again, “You can’t, I know you want you, but you can’t-”

  “I can’t? I can’t? I’m going.” The boy snaps and, with a growl, adds, “There’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

  “I can.” Noan insists, his cloak flutters in a nonexistent wind, “And I will again if I have to. You don’t know the kind of danger you’re in.”

  “So what? I can deal with anything that comes my way, and I’m not about to leave my sisters to that. I’m not like you-” the boy spits, “-a monster stealing people from their home, abandoning children to some danger.”

  Noan looks hurt, the emotion flickering across his face before he recovers, “Only a monster to you. As long as you’re not there, your sisters will be safe. They’ll be better than safe soon. That woman from your village is taking them to the capital herself on a safer, more direct route. They should be there before us, and they’ll be well taken care of when they get there.”

  “I don’t believe you! Why? Why would you care?” The boy shakes his head, “You’re just saying that so I’ll trust you. You’re making things up, you stole me, the only thing like a parent my sisters had left!”

  “Look, please, it’s for your own good-” Noan tries.

  “No! I’m leaving, and I'm leaving now!” The boy tries to dodge past Noan, who tries to stop him.

  In a second, faster, faster than Til could blink, Noan was flung across the room like a ragdoll, hitting the wall, then the floor.

  Everything froze for a long breath. Til guessed this meant the kid really was Touched.

  He looks at Noan long enough to confirm he’s breathing before turning to the boy, “That’s why. You’re Touched, boy. And you’re dangerous without training. People are hunting you because you’re Touched, and they don’t care about your sisters. Yes, it was bad that we didn’t give you the choice, but your sisters will be safe, safer than they were at least. And we’re going to take you, and Ray, and the baby because they’re Touched too, along with the other kids all over the kingdom that have disappeared, and we’re going to get you somewhere safe, somewhere you can learn to control yourself, and learn to protect them.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “I-”

  “Just take a few deep breaths, I’m going to check that Noan’s alive, and we’ll figure out what to do from there. Okay?”

  The boy nods, and Til finds that Noan’s alive, and not even really hurt, just winded. He waves off the concerned knight once he’s upright.

  Once the boy, Willum, they discover, is calmer, they’re able to talk to him. Til takes the lead and explains to him, like he’d been told, of the disappearances and the other Touched children.

  Willum is understandably concerned about what it means for him and about how many others there are, or might be, who’ve disappeared, but Til doesn’t know anything about them. Noan only knows of the numbers, not the individuals.

  They do know that it’s mostly from smaller villages; any of the ones with a standing wizard seem to have been spared, though some of the children sent to the castle had disappeared off the trail. Noan thought that since no one was aware that Willum’s sisters were headed there, they would be safe.

  Finally, they descend, eat something, and introduce the two older children.

  They get along reasonably well, and even with Willum’s fear and worry constantly flickering over his face, he manages to pull a smile from Ray after just a few minutes.

  Then they have to figure out the sleeping arrangement. They can’t get another room, the inn having a few other travelers passing through, and though there are two beds, Willum refuses to share with either of the men, still rightfully distrustful of both. Ray agrees to share with him, and Willum is content enough, having grown accustomed to sharing with his sisters, leaving Til, Noan, and the baby to share the other bed.

  Til offers to take watch now that they’re in civilization, and thus more at risk from anyone targeting the Touched, but Noan refuses him, telling them that he’s put up a ward to alert them of anyone coming or going.

  Til doesn’t ask him why those wards wouldn’t have worked in the wilderness, but he does wonder as he waits for the others to get into the beds and get comfortable, putting it off himself for as long as possible.

  Without another choice, Til does his best to climb into the bed as carefully as he can.

  He’s all too aware that a man his size wearing the heavy armor he is could break the bed with a wrong move, add to that it's already occupied, and it'll take even less to break it.

  To his surprise, the bed holds, barely.

  The occupant, on the other hand, doesn’t.

  Noan slides against Til, nearly lying on him from the deep dip in the middle of the bed, forcing the occupants uncomfortably close together.

  Before Til has a chance to really think about it, or avoid thinking about it, Ray asks, “Are you really sleeping in your armor? I knew you kept it on when we made camp, but it was actually dangerous there. Here, the worst that can happen is the baby sneezing on you.”

  Then, equally unhelpfully, Willum props himself up to look over Ray and add, “I thought that was a myth. I didn’t know you knights really slept in your armor.”

  “I really thought that he would at least remove some of the outlet layers to sleep,” Noan mutters loud enough for them all to hear from where he was cuddling as well as he could against Til’s breastplate.

  Instead of responding to any of the individual statements, Til released a rumbling sound, smiling under his helmet at the laughter from the children.

  Once more, all too carefully, all too aware of how easy it would be for the bed to crumble away to dust, even though it had survived him lying down initially, Til stands again. As Til removes the outer layers without haste, leaving much of the armor still on his person, but less than before, he informs the others about the rules for clothing as a knight. One of the more important, to the honored at least, being the need to keep all skin covered in the light of day. Which really meant whenever other people were around.

  The table nearby is good enough as a staging place for his armor, close enough that he’d be able to get to it and throw it on at a moment’s notice, should the need arise.

  Hopefully, the need wouldn’t arise.

  Lying in the bed once more, this time only slightly less gently, Til finds the bed to be no bigger without his armor than with it.

  He tells himself it means nothing as Noan drapes himself across Til’s chest. He thinks that it’s not odd at all for the wizard to reach across his chest to grab his still armored hand. He tries to clear his mind enough to sleep, even though this is the least comfortable he’s been while trying to sleep in a bed in ages.

  Even sleeping in the wilderness had been better in comparison.

  All of that pales, though, to the way his mind stills as Noan lifts his hand, turning it this way and that. The scaled gloves didn’t, couldn’t come off because Til had nothing on under them. His chain shirt he hadn’t removed because, though they should be safe, Til didn’t trust that he wouldn’t need some kind of armor.

  Neither of these things seemed to be the source of Noan’s focus, and as Til tries not to move, he feels the man focus in on where his glove meets the heavy chain shirt.

  Even as Til tries to sleep, even as every hair on his body raises, apparently trying to feel even the hint of a breath of air from Noan, it’s not that easy.

  It can never be that easy.

  Because, as the wizard, the man in the bed beside him, examines that meeting point further, he finally breathes, so quietly that the children across the room wouldn’t hear, “I think I see some skin.”

  The words shocked Til, but it was the kiss on the band of exposed flesh that made Til shudder violently, and even after the other man’s breathing evened, Til thought of the feel of his lips against his bare flesh.

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