Page 40 of The Villains of Winter

Elliott simply repeated, “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Do you cry after your mothers together, is that it? The rest of us have our mothers and therefore we can’t comprehend your bond?” Lucien interrogated. “Are you erratically in love with him?”

“He’s my best friend.”

“How many times have you fucked him?” Lucien demanded at last, blunt and intrusive, underlining his words in an unsubtle, increasing anger. “Was it raw between you two? Why else would you do this to yourself?”

Elliott didn’t care if his friendship was difficult to understand because it was affectionate, James was his best friend. That’s all. “You’re irate over nothing.”

“You must be sleeping with him if you’re willing to die for him,” Lucien remarked. He was exactly the kind of person who would only risk himself for someone if he slept with them. “Are you aware that everyone knows you two sleep together? That you share a bed?”

People knew, but not many asked about it. It wasn’t the sort of thing Baneburians openly talked about. Roslyn referred to James as his special friend in a respectful and considerate hint of letting Elliott know it was safe to talk about him with her.

Elliott and James drifted to sleep before their heads even hit the pillow. There was nothing sexual or romantic about it.

Nevertheless, Lucien referred to James as the Queen of Bithynia, an epithet of Julius Caesar who was repeatedly accused of homosexuality with King Nicomedes IV of Bithynia. In the words of a consul, Julius Caesar was ‘every man’s wife and every woman’s husband.’ There were several politicians that attested to Julius Caesar’s homosexuality in mockery, and Cicero went even further to claim Caesar lost his virginity to the king. ‘The virginity of the one sprung from Venus was lost in Bithynia.[10]’

However, James was not Julius Caesar.

Even if college men like Lucien viewed him that way.

The grisly truth was that no one in town knew that Elliott, James, Knox, and Finch were related to a man’s murder. That the reason Elliott went to bed with people was because of night terrors and graphic images of horror that he caused in the manslaughter. Everyone knew they were there. Most people assumed they witnessed the murder, and let the killer escape. A hit and run. They didn’t know they caused the death. Elliott could never let them know the truth.

Lucien composed himself. “Do you know what power you could’ve held as an elector instead of painting planets at least?”

I wanted to be a drummer. Elliott was tired of the senior elector scolding that Elliott should’ve been with him and followed in his footsteps. Lucien had always wanted Elliott at his side, even when they were young. Lucien tried everything to convince Elliott to be with him.

However, Elliott saw right through him.

Lucien wanted to be endorsed by orphans, financially disadvantaged people, and the working class of Banebury. It would’ve polished his charitable image and sanitized his history of manipulation of young college girls. He hoped Elliott liked men so that Elliott could be the harmless, fun peer to lure in more girls.

Lucien wanted to be a politician one day. He wanted to be elected the governor of Connecticut.

James’s grandfather had been the former governor of Connecticut. James had denied Lucien any affiliation.

Lucien was the sort of man to burn it all down, if he could not have what he wanted. Elliott denied him an alliance. Therefore, he was gratified to lead Elliott to death.

Elliott examined the trail of trampled footsteps where years of sacrifices were led on sacred grounds. Not many had made it this far north to the mountain range of Marlborough.

The path was outlined in commemorative wildflowers–arrowheads, bluets, fireweeds, harebells. He counted the hawks in the sky, the spotted geese flying south for open water, the paths lined with meadowsweets, milkweeds, and sundrops. The snowfall dusted the tops of his feet towards the flat plains ahead.

A river snaked through the mountain range, half-frozen with baby rabbits and juniper berries that reminded him of Kitty. It bled his heart.

Lucien broke into his thoughts. “Do you grasp that you’ve now given up your chance at a future–?”

Elliott bared his teeth. “James won’t be killed. That’s all that matters.”

Lucien rolled his eyes at his naïvety. “James Wilde ruined his life once, it’s only a matter of time before he ruins it again. He’s even ruined your life this time.”

Lucien believed James utilized Elliott for the clean image of friendly relations the working class to appear like a humanitarian. It was what Lucien had tried for years.

“Leave him alone.” Pine needles peppered the heavy river bed. Elliott concentrated on that instead of the tears prickling the corner of his eyes. James didn’t ruin my life. I did.

Lucien halted in his tracks to speak to Elliott. “I could’ve saved you, if you’d asked–”

“Why do you care what happens to me?” Elliott demanded at last, and Lucien’s ears tinted bull red.

“He’s the scourge of the earth.” Even though Lucien sounded composed, his neck muscles went taut. “You will never see him the way I see him.”