Koray turned away from him without further word, long braid swaying across his back. Sorin followed after him, reluctant to let Koray out of his sight. "So what are you planning to do today, necromancer?"
"Ghosts," Koray said. "Most of them must wait until spring when other necromancers can come assist, but there are still many I can purify alone. I may as well get started since there is nothing we can do about what we discovered last night until Neikirk returns."
Sorin reached out, unthinking, to run his fingers over the streak of white in Koray's hair. "Just have a care, necromancer."
"I don't need coddling," Koray snapped.
"I know. It's not coddling. It's caring." Koray scowled at him, but his cheeks were dusted the faintest pink as he stalked away.
A soft chuckle came from behind Sorin. "You have your hands full with that one, Sorin. I do not believe I have seen you work that had for affection since you were fourteen and attempted to court Winesta."
"That's Lady Winesta now," Sorin said with a grin. "The young temptress has become a grand lady, and I hear she rules her castle by the sea with a fierceness that would put mine to shame. A pity she has retreated from court these days. She would have been of great assistance."
Cerant smiled. "However did you come to be besotted with a necromancer?"
"I am not besotted," Sorin said. "He's beautiful and challenging. What is not to find appealing there? But besotted? I think you overstate things."
"Challenging, is it? I think that is a clever way to say that he is completely unimpressed with you, and that must drive you mad." Cerant laughed when Sorin rolled his eyes. "So tell me all that I have missed over the past ten years, my friend." He threw an arm across Sorin's shoulders and led him to the Cathedral, into his office.
Sorin tensed at the threshold, but all signs of violence—every touch of Angelos, even—had been removed. It hurt, seeing Angelos so effectively removed, Cerant already sliding into the role, but castle life had never been about lingering over what was dead and gone. Say farewell and keep going. Lingering only created more dead.
They settled at a round table in the corner, and filled their cups with mulled wine from a pitcher. "My priests—I cannot believe they are my priests—have been telling me many troubling things. Did my brother leave anything undamaged?"
"Unfortunately, I do not think so," Sorin said. "Angelos and I did the best we could, and of course our men helped us, but it is hard to completely thwart a king who will remove any head he pleases, and there was no one to take our places should we have fallen victim to that fate. I am glad that is behind us. If we can just solve the mystery of these new demons and perhaps route the usual assortment, life might be pleasant for the kingdom for the first time."
"I wish I had come home sooner," Cerant replied, staring into his wine. "I thought it for the best that I stayed away. I had done enough harm, even if I never intended it."
"I wanted to look for you every day, but I did not have the authority. I don't know that it would have done any good in the end. To defy your brother would have required bloodshed and there's already been too much of that. I wish the price of your return had not been Angelos and Alfrey, but they would be happy to know you have returned." He smiled and added, "Though I wish I could have seen their faces when they learned you were meant to be the next high priest. Poor Angelos would have retired to bed for the entire day, to know he had to endure training you in divine matters all over again."
Cerant smiled crookedly. "We were both terrible students as boys, but I don't know many boys who are good students—especially when one is the crown prince who can get away with anything and the other an orphan with no respect for authority. How did we wind up here?"
"Only the Goddess knows," Sorin replied and finished his wine. "But I think people are more encouraged to have you as priest than king."
"I think people are tired of weak kings," Cerant said. He looked around his office. "I thought it would feel stranger being here and not in the keep itself … but as much as I longed to be home and doing what I was born to do, this feels more right. Perhaps we all needed drastic change."
Sorin nodded. "I think it is a sign of how desperately change is needed that, minus a rough start, people are mostly accepting of having a necromancer—and now an alchemist—in their midst. But then, Neikirk was not here long—"
He broke off as Cerant's face shadowed, wincing at his own blunt reminder that Neikirk had ridden off into danger and would not be back any time soon. Sorin refused to consider that Neikirk and Emel and the others would not return at all. Eager to change the subject, he fumbled for a new topic and said, "So what are you planning to do today? I believe the feast to welcome you home is being held tonight since it was disrupted last night. People are desperate for a reason to have fun, especially after all the recent tragedies."
"I have to prepare for the ceremony of mourning this afternoon," Cerant said with a sigh. "My first truly official act as High Priest, since morning ceremonies really don't count. In the meantime, I am going to get better acquainted with my new role and my priests."
Sorin nodded and rose. "Then I will leave you to it, High Priest. I have duties aplenty to attend myself. I'll see you at the ceremony of mourning."
He made his way quickly through the Cathedral and back to the keep. In the great hall, one of the knights looked up from his meal with a grin. "If you're seeking the High Necromancer, he was last seen wandering about the west wing. I think someone said he was in the Princess Chambers."
"Thank you," Sorin said, but though the temptation to go see Koray was strong, he did have work to do and so he settled into it.
Work was severely hampered without Emel at his side, and Sorin missed him all the more. Perhaps the men felt his absence too, because they were far more quiet and obedient than normal. Even their good-natured ribbing was largely absent while they worked through drills and helped with cleaning the keep.
Sorin finally called a halt half a mark before the ceremony of mourning so they would have time to get cleaned up and properly dressed. Leaving them to it, he finally retreated to the castle to track down Koray.
He headed for the west wing, but was not surprised to find the Princess Chambers empty. It took only a few minutes to find Koray instead in an empty guest room. Back when Cerant's father had still been on the throne, the castle had always lacked enough space for all the people who crowded into it. Since Rofell had taken the throne, fewer and fewer had visited the castle each year, willing to take the higher risks of their remote estates rather than endure Rofell.
Sorin lingered in the doorway, oddly content to watch Koray work. Neikirk's words, his strange explanation the night before, rose to mind. Neikirk was correct: Koray was a priest, a dark priest who healed and guided the dead. Strange the notion had never occurred to him before, when it seemed so suddenly obvious.
It was a pity Koray had braided his hair, but that was an entirely selfish complaint. Sorin had no idea why a man as ruthlessly practical as Koray kept his hair so long, but he would never complain. Running his fingers through it whenever Koray left it down had become one of his favorite things to do.
The smell of incense wafted about the room, a scent he had always associated with the priests before but that had become irrevocably bound to Koray. He sensed that if Koray ever left—because if he wanted to go he would and not even the Goddess would stop him—Sorin would still think of Koray whenever he smelled it.
More than a month had passed since he had encountered Koray in the woods and taken him to the castle. That did not seem time enough to grow obsessed with someone, but Sorin was not certain what else to call it. Besotted. He grimaced at the word, the memory of Cerant's teasing tone. He was not besotted.
Koray finished chanting and seemed to slump for a moment. His eyes still shone violet as he slowly opened them, the last of the light fading away as he turned to scowl at Sorin. Just once, Sorin wished Koray would look happy to see him. He didn't have to look excited or overjoyed, but happy would have been nice. "What?"
Stifling a sigh, Sorin replied, "I came to see how your purification was going and to let you know the ceremony of mourning is in about half a mark. Stop glaring at me, necromancer, unless you want me to kiss you."
"How does glaring lead to kissing?" Koray demanded.
"Because you seem determined to neither take what you want nor ask me for it, so I like to think your glares are a poor attempt at requesting what you want," Sorin replied with a grin. "Do correct me if I'm wrong, necromancer." He stepped into the room and walked slowly toward Koray.
"That is not—" Koray broke off, still scowling.
Sorin cupped his chin, tilted his face up, and said, "If you want to say no, necromancer, then say it. I'm not going to force a man." He fervently hoped Koray wouldn't say no. He held his breath and let it out in a soft sigh when Koray's scowl eased the barest bit.
Bending, Sorin kissed him, tasting ale and fresh bread and the sharp, bitter flavor of Koray himself. Kissing Koray was becoming one of his greatest pleasures, and each one made him hungrier for more, to see if the rest of Koray tasted as fine as his mouth, to learn the noises he made when lost in passion, to see his face when he found release.
There was always something that held him back, though. Some undefinable thing between them that kept him from going as far as he would like. Well, not entirely undefinable. He was never entirely certain just how invested Koray really was in all their kisses, in whatever they were building.
Sorin shoved the doubts away, determined to enjoy what he had. He slid his fingers over Koray's soft hair, along the folds of his wool robes to wrap his arms around Koray's waist and pull him closer. Koray's arms twined around his neck and Sorin swore that each kiss exchanged was tenfold better than the one before.
He licked his lips as they drew apart, barely biting back a groan at the dazed, unguarded look on Koray's face. Diving back into the kiss, Sorin lifted Koray off his feet and held him as close as he could, longing for a bed and the time to enjoy it.
But the sudden ringing of the cathedral bells reminded him that there was a funeral looming. Men were dead and his only thoughts were of bedding Koray. Sometimes Sorin thought he merited the contempt to which Koray so often subjected him.
Setting Koray back on his feet, Sorin turned and led the way out. In the cathedral, he kept to the back so that he could easily slip away if he must. On the altar, Cerant looked at home in the long, flowing, formal purple robes of the High Priest. His smooth tenor recited prayers and sang hymns with all the ease that Angelos had possessed. If anyone doubted the king was meant to be High Priest, Sorin did not see how those doubts could continue to linger.
He turned when movement caught the corner of his eye and silently slipped out of the Cathedral to join the grim-looking paladin who had beckoned to him. "What's wrong?"
"More of those white demons were found. Three of them, but already dead. The bodies are being brought to us and should be here soon. I thought you would like to know, High Paladin."
"Yes, thank you," Sorin said and sighed as the paladin left again.
"Do you think they were killed by that demon who helped us before?" Koray asked from behind him.
Turning to face him, Sorin shrugged. "I don't know. If so, I'm still not certain what that means. Demons are a crooked lot."
"Necromancers have always been thought evil, too."
"Yes, but necromancers are human and clearly not guilty of the things that have always been laid upon them," Sorin said, swallowing bile as foul memories rose up. "I was born the bastard son of a baron, necromancer. He could not claim me or pass his title on to me, but he did take care of me from what little I can remember. We were attacked on one our seasonal journeys here to the castle. Though we had many a fine paladin accompanying us, the demons slaughtered my family and everyone with us. I lived only by chance. I remember the things those demons did. I remember everything a demon has done since then. You are not going to convince me that demons are redeemable or that they might want to be."
Koray's mouth tightened and any warmth in his eyes faded away. "So be it, My Lord High Paladin. Be stubborn and stupid, you're good at that."
Sorin started to snarl an angry retort to that because he was damned tired of being maligned even if he was aware it was all Koray knew how to be, but then he head the guards cry out and realized the demon carcasses had arrived.
He did not know what they would tell him—if they told him anything—but better to feel he was doing something rather than arguing futilely with Koray, or worrying about Emel and the others. Not bothering to look at Koray again, he strode off to meet the cart.
Koray waited until Sorin was occupied with his evening duties and then headed for the kitchen to obtain food for travel before making his way to the stable. The stable hands looked at him in surprise, but obediently prepared him a horse. "Is the high paladin accompanying you?" one of them asked as he brought Koray's horse to him.
"No," Koray said. "If he tries to fuss and come after me, tell him I have been doing the Goddess' work alone for many years and am still quite capable." The stable hands laughed and nodded. "Be careful, High Necromancer. Try to make it back before dark and have an extra care if you don't. Go with the Goddess' protection."
Startled, Koray could only nod before riding out, pulling up the hood of his cloak as he reached the inner gate. The guards let him by easily, but the guards of the outer gate gave him yet another admonishment to be back before dark—unlikely, as dark was less than a mark away and it would take him that long to reach the woods and find the oak tree. Why he was so certain the demon would be there, Koray did not know, but it felt right and the Goddess definitely was leading him in that direction.