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Even worn down from captivity, Ryneth wasn’t small. Only a few inches shorter than Daven, all lean lines and underfed muscle, and still far too light in his arms.
And he was fuming beautifully.
“Now, where were we?”
“Put me down,” Ryneth hissed. He kicked with his feet, but Daven didn’t miss the way Ryneth was breathing hard, clearly tired now that the IV was no longer feeding him fluids.
“Not yet. Let me show you around first. Here’s the kitchen.” Daven pushed with his boot against a door and marched him through the wide room, not intending to stop here. “Whatever you need, you take it. Whatever you want, you ask me for. There’s coffee, fruit, a stacked fridge, and fresh tigano delivery every morning. Next, the bathroom. Heated stone and a pressure-pool for two.”
“I don’t want your pool,” Ryneth rasped, his head hanging low as he watched the polished tile pass beneath them. “I want to walk. Let me—oof.”
Daven hiked him higher, ignoring the struggle as he turned back into the main corridor. Nothing would take this moment away from him. “Guest suites. Storage. A library you’ll never use. And my study.”
“Come on, drop me now. You know as well as I do that I don’t belong here. I have work lined up.”
“You belong where I put you,” Daven rumbled, carrying him farther down the hall. “Tomorrow, you come with me to the Academy.”
Ryneth twisted hard in his arms. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
Daven tightened his hold when Ryneth kicked again. “Keep fighting me like that and I’ll carry you straight through the front gates in my arms.”
Ryneth glared up at him, breathing harder now. “You’re insane.”
Daven smiled. “That’s not a no.”
“That was absolutely a no.”
“We’ll see how brave you are in the morning.”
Ryneth made a rough, disbelieving sound. “I can’t afford a place like that.”
“You think I’m charging you tuition?” Daven laughed under his breath.
“I didn’t finish more than middle school.”
Daven’s amusement faded. Ryneth said it like he was expecting to be mocked. He hated that. Hated that Ryneth said it like a confession instead of an accusation. Hated more that the Academy had never deserved boys like him in the first place.
Not because Daven cared about schooling. Half the Academy was stuffed with idiots who had tutors to breathe for them. The place had never deserved boys like Ryneth.
“In Düren, places like that are for the elite,” Ryneth muttered. “Not people like us.”
Daven’s grip tightened without permission. Every time Ryneth said something that belonged to Düren instead of Helion, that restless hum under his skin sharpened as he carried him toward the end of the corridor. “Then tomorrow will be educational.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Daven. I’m not one of your rich boys.”
“That,” Daven said softly, tightening his grip on him as he reached the end of the corridor, “is exactly what everyone is about to argue about.”
Ryneth’s heel clipped the edge of a pedestal, nearly sending a decorative piece skidding across the floor. He twisted harder, reckless, kicking, scraping, knocking into anything he could reach.
As they reached the end of the hall, the air grew warmer, the scent of opium thickening with every step. With a forceful shove, Daven opened the final door. “And this”—his grip tightened—“is the only room you actually need to remember.”
Ryneth’s head hung low, but Daven felt him suck in a breath when he saw the massive glass walls and the silver-silk bed.
Daven lowered him onto the mattress.
