We had a surprisingly good time, and listening to the back and forth amused me more than I thought it would. If Verando won't tell me who he is, he slowly shows me through Marcus. I try not to focus on the cruelty that came with such a sentiment that Marcus was helping me get to know a past love was a new level of low I didn't think I was capable of. 

 I walk close to Marcus while Verando and Penelope take up the rear. Marcus is the life of the party, just like I knew he would be, and I begin to see precisely why he and Verando got along. The gray-haired man isn't nearly as outgoing in this sort of setting; while Marcus is louder and insists that his story be heard, Verando is likelier to downplay each tale. 

Sometimes, it is because of Marcus's embellishment, and sometimes, it is to lessen the impact of his accomplishments, which Marcus quickly points out. Marcus hogs no glory, everyone gets space in the warm man's stories while it seems like Verando is more inclined to remember the unfortunate parts. 

Much to Verando's disappointment, Marcus decides to delve into their childhood at Penelope's request. 

"So, how did this ray of sunshine meet tall, gray, and brooding?" she asks, stretching with a long yawn. I think I remember you saying you grew up together."

"Verando came to live with my family when he was five, along with his sister and brother. We lived in Spain, in a rather unfortunate town. My mother was a gentle soul; a lot of children's parents died, abandoned them, or were taken for servitude. She raised over thirty children before we lost her." He kisses a cross that dangles around his neck by a chain. 

Glancing over my shoulder, I steal a glimpse of Verando to see he's staring off into the woods, no doubt keeping his guard up in case of an ambush. While we'd conquered Ziduri, there was no telling who was on our side and who would act against us. 

"We had a band of friends; Verando was our ring leader. I'm not sure if you met Caspian-"

"He did." Verando mumbles, his lips pulling down in the corners.

Marcus waves him off, dismissing his poor mood. "We were ruffians if I had to put a word to it. Caspian, Marisol, Rhea, Temptrest, Randy, and I. The banditi were prevalent, but it was the only way to get work. It wasn't honest, but it put food on our table until the rest of us were gathered up." 

"Banditi?" Penelope cocks her head. 

Grimacing, Verando exhales at the story's shortcomings. "Banditi are members of the Mafia; they are crime lords and loan sharks. A debt owed is a life debt, but the pay was good. It wasn't all bad; we helped as many people as we hurt."

Now, it was Marcus's turn to roll his eyes as he casually combed his beard with his fingers. "You were always one to see the righteous side of the job," he agreed before turning his attention to me, guiding his horse over with his reins to bump his leg into mine. "What about you? What is it like growing up super wealthy? Parties? Jewels? I bet it was amazing."

My details aren't nearly as exciting. While it had been segregated, my life was mediocre in adventures. "My mother was amazing, raising us well. We never wanted much beyond the average desire for more attention or more travel. It wasn't nearly as fun as you'd think; most of every day was structured from as young as I could remember. There are a lot of rules with nobility, and the law is fundamental. You don't want to offend a trade partner or disrupt during court. 

I'd say the majority of my childhood was spent sitting very still and learning good etiquette."

Verando snorts, and I glower at him over my shoulder as he stifles the laugh with a slight cough. Penelope giggles as well, though Marcus seems to appreciate my nature. 

"Come on, there must have been something fun." Marcus encourages.

Considering this, I stroke the horse's mane slowly; I'd spent so much time thinking of the immediate past I'd forgotten most of my childhood. "Honestly..." I find myself laughing as well with a shrug, brushing off the discomfort of the memory. My pity for the warlord grows; this wasn't comfortable for me either, come to think of it. "I looked different than my siblings because I'm a Solomonari.

My father spent the majority of my childhood hiding me; I looked like a bastard son. It had become apparent at a young age that my interests were different. I preferred playing with my sisters rather than fencing or practicing my hunting. So.. no, I can't say there was much fun to be had most of the time. 

I suppose my best memory is cooking with my mother. I spent a lot of time with her, learning how to run the castle since I couldn't do women's work and wasn't welcome to tour with my father, nor did I wish to engage in masculine activities. We spent most of our days together until they sent me to the school. It was... startling.. to say the least." My words drifted off; I hadn't realized I'd begun on a tangent and given more than they'd requested. 

The group has fallen silent, misfits, all of us. 

"It's incredible you survived that school, Nicolas." Penelope shudders.

 Marcus takes my hand and kisses it dramatically, "I'd wed you; you could have been happily married off to me; maybe you still could?" He winks, belting out a laugh that makes me giggle despite nearly choking on the threat of commitment. "I'll show you some adventure and catch up on all the stuff you missed out on."

"If you're offering to marry him, he must not have gotten on your nerves yet," Verando says more to himself than out loud.

 Penelope surprises me with a laugh. "Nic? Get on your nerves?" It brings a small smile from our icy companion, and Marcus gasps. 

"Never. He's perfecto." He declares. "An angel, mi amour." He kisses my hand once more; I swear I could hear the rumble of a growl echo behind me. 

I roll my eyes and swat at him to stop, embarrassed because these people know me better than the outspoken man. I don't need him coming to my defense.

"Love is blind." Penelope scoffs. "Or just desperate. No offense, Nic."

_______________________________________________

 Learning about my friends is a nice side effect of traveling in a small group. Penelope lived in a rebellion town most of her life; despite her young age, she'd been a part of the uprising since she could shoot straight. While she had parents, she wasn't quite sure where they were since she'd run off with a caravan to travel with the resistance at the age of 12. She was now 18, at least that was her guess. 

 It's easy for me to forget that I'm young too, most days I feel like I'm ancient. I listen to them talk as night looms, and we hunker down with a fire. Dismounting our horses, I notice my former lover rolling his shoulders with a pained expression as he unloads the pack from his saddle. Leaning over the saddle as he hesitates, I note the tension in his back as he attempts to stretch it subtly. 

Biting my lower lip, I gesture to Penelope, "Can you do some work on Verando's shoulder? It's broken. I've only treated it once, but it could use some aftercare. Just take the inflammation out."

Verando eyes us suspiciously, and I give him a stern look. I see the flame burning in his gaze, and he is less than willing to participate in any healing measures. I'd throttle him if he dared to refuse, and he seemed to accept that, for he reluctantly approached without being asked. The lycan hearing was almost unnerving. 

Sitting cross-legged, he settles his eye on the fire as she pulls his shirt over his head, taking a moment to marvel at the wall of muscle in front of her. I never get used to seeing the scars across his chest and shoulders, the way that they twist and drag, marring the beautiful flesh. Every line of his arms is accentuated by the flickering light of the flame, making his eyes almost look translucent as they reflect back the variety of colors. 

 Penelope's hands hover very slowly; she places them on his shoulders, and for a moment, she looks terrified. The pale hands look tiny compared to the expanse of the lycan leader, and she swallows hard as she slowly trails them over the plains of his collarbone and shoulders. 

I couldn't make it out, but I think she's blushing. 

"Bite me, and I'll bite you back." She tells him half-heartedly as she places her palms carefully against his back, only to pause with a look of shock and concern at the mess of healed fractures and shakey bonds in the shoulder blade. "Oh my god.." she exhales, following each fault line in the defective blade. 

"I know. Just do what you can." I can see Verando is uncomfortable with us talking about his scars. My hand twitches to touch him, but I hesitate. Marcus is staring, I realize he hasn't gotten a glimpse at the price Randy paid for his leadership. 

"I had heard, but I hadn't seen..." He puts his hand over his mouth, blinking away the pain from his vision. "I'm so sorry, brother... I wish I could have been there to help you. Kavanza? Kavanza truly did this?"

"You should see the other guy." Verando flinches as Penelope carefully runs her palms up and down his shoulder blade, applying steady, warm pressure. He sighs in relief, "Fire mage.. useful for something, I suppose." Flicking his gaze up, he considers not answering Marcus for a moment before he nods. "Yes, he wanted to remain in Ziduri and was willing to kill anyone who threatened to take that away from him."

"And you assumed that should be you?" Marcus points out, shuddering at the thought. "You've always been a tough son of a bitch, Verando Mercer. No wonder these men followed you to the ends of the earth.. and Caspian.. so he's-"

Verando flinches, a snarl curling through his throat as he shoots Penelope a deadly glare. She ruffles his hair with an exhale of her own, "This is tougher than it looks! Sit still!" She warns him before narrowing her blazing yellow eyes towards Marcus. "Stop distracting him."

Bowing out, Marcus lays out our pack, and for the first time in weeks, we're back to sleeping under the stars. Holding out his arm, the Spanish man encourages me to join him, pulling me under his blanket and curling his arm around me. It's a shock just how fast the man falls asleep. 

I find myself drifting in and out as I keep my eyes focused on the flames. I'm mesmerized by the fire playing on the tanned skin and the heat radiating off my lycan pillow. Beyond the echo of the night, the crunch of distant snow falling from limbs, and the occasional owl, I'm only vaguely aware that Verando and Penelope are talking. 

"Why did you come?" He asks her, widdling a stick into a point with his knife as she trails those same nimble fingers over his back, determined to make some sort of difference. 

"Same reason you did. I love Nic; I want to help him. I don't love him like you do, but I deeply care about him." She sighs, shaking her head. "This shoulder is trashed, nothing feels the way it should, and your mobility is terrible. How the hell were you able to swing a sword? You'll be lucky if you even heal from this." 

"It's been through worse; as long as my wolf can walk, it will be fine." He mutters, avoiding the topic of me altogether.

"You do still love Nic, right?" Penelope grumbles. 

He doesn't answer, I listen to the rhythmic chipping of a blade against soft wood. 

"He loves you too, you know. You both need to grow a pair and communicate and maybe then we can stop this love triangle before someone actually gets hurt. Though I got to say, it'd chap my ass if my best friend was fucking the man I was interested in...." Her eyebrows come together as she focuses on a specific spot, pressing firmly with her palm.

 Verando flinches, restraining a sound of discomfort as a crunch makes me sick to my stomach. 

"I think that got it! Move it."

 He slowly rolls his shoulder, and I watch his face strain to hold his composure. "Fuucking hell! Verando gasps, gripping the point of his shoulder with a gasp of discomfort. "You don't have to torture me, woman!"

Impressed with her work, she nods in approval. "That looks better. I'm going to do a bit more. Maybe if we keep loosening this up, we can return it to somewhat normal. You'll need more treatments, and it seems the heat is helping you relax so that I can manipulate it. ." 

"For Christ's sake...Thanks.." His voice is low, followed by a deep sigh of relief. Much as she was playing with his insides, it was beginning to feel better. 

"I don't care for you, but I think I'm starting to understand," Penelope tells him, heating her hands and pressing them against the defective blade. 

Verando sighs in relief, relaxing into the heat, rolling his neck in silent appreciation. Her eyes watch his every moment, locked onto the way the coil of muscles moves smoothly under the skin. 

She glances at us, checking if we are asleep. "I want to help you. Any way I can." 

"I think we are a bit beyond help. He seems to have a new interest." Verando murmurs, the irritation evident in his voice. Her tangle of hair skirts against his shoulder as she leans over him, putting her weight into the massage, wafting the scent of lavender and citrus from her long tangle of loose curls. 

"With that attitude, yes. But you have to learn to let go. That's all he wants, Verando. He wants to know you, and you're doing that today, so why can't you just.. let him in?." The gentle accent is almost a plea, her nose dangerously close to his skin as she leans against him to apply pressure. He smelled surprisingly good, woodsy, perhaps cedar mixed with something else. 

He clenches and unclenches his jaw, bowing his head to give her access to his neck. My heart twinges; how I wish to do that for him. She works the sides of his neck, bringing a contented sigh from him. "God's woman.. where have you been all my life?" The groan makes her flush again, too sultry for her to respond to. "Everyone I love dies, Penelope. If what happened to Marisol happened to Nic... I don't think I would live through that. He's safer with Marcus." 

Swallowing, the youthful girl straightens to observe her work, mesmerized by the wall of man before her. In this sort of aspect, it's the closest she'd been to a man other than Frost. She and Frost had explored each other in their short time together, but nothing beyond the basics of sex. It had been just enough to get her hooked but not enough to give her any outlet for what to do with all this pent-up frustration. 

 "I hear you, but I'm also not blind. You haven't taken your eyes off of him. Do you truly think you can stomach him being with anyone else? You came on this trip because you wanted to make sure he was happy—but not too happy. You either need to completely back off and push him away or decide you want to fight for this. Nic is a big boy, he can handle himself."

"That's my issue. I'm not sure I'm okay with the fact that he can handle himself. I'm terrified of him, but... watching this.. is killing me. So what's the hook for all this 'help'? I'm sure there's a catch—always is. I don't have a firstborn to give you; he ran away."

"Show me," she tells him. Her voice is barely audible as she speaks, and I almost wonder if I heard her correctly.

Verando scoffs, rolling his eyes as he tosses the sharpened stick into the flames. "Show you? Show you what? I'm already shirtless, darling."

 His voice's a hint of amusement; I want to interrupt them and end this conversation.

Penelope's hands are still, and she slowly, timidly, kisses the base of his neck. "Show me this... lifestyle. What has gotten him so damn addicted to you? I don't understand; I want to see it myself."

They both go silent. "It's not something you can demonstrate verbally." 

"I think you know what I'm asking." Her voice is a whisper, muted by the crackling of the flames. "Don't act like the same thing isn't going on right across from us; I have lived a sheltered life, and whatever you do is something I've never encountered before. If you try and beat me, I'll castrate you, but I want to.. see? I've been told I shouldn't knock it until I try it."

The warlord chuckled, shaking his head at her boldness. He had to admit this was not the direction he saw this conversation going, but she'd intrigued him. He was also but a man, and not having a physical partner, coupled with watching me fornicate with a person he considered his friend, left him feeling more than a little pent up. 

"It's not like that. It's not beatings and humiliation. It's about trust; it's about control. I don't think you're ready for that." 

"Try me." She challenges him as he narrows his eyes at her.

"I'll think about it. Do you even find me attractive?"

"You're broken and a thousand. But yes. If you tell anyone I said that again, I'll castrate you."

Raising his eyebrows, he seemed less enthusiastic by the minute, considering her attitude towards him; the idea of training a new pet wasn't the most appealing given the circumstances. "Yeah. Can't wait to tie you down and teach you manners." 

The sarcasm drips from his voice, heavy in his words. 

My subconscious stirs, and I sit up. "What're you guys going on about?" 

"Nothing, love. Go back to sleep." The frown in his voice makes me shut my eyes, knowing I wasn't a part of this conversation. I settled back down, moving closer to Marcus, trying to drown out their voices, for I refused to believe this was anything but a nightmare. "I'll do it. But we tell no one."  

"Deal."

_______________________________________________________

I feel strange as we start our morning. I didn't sleep well last night, and I'm unable to place why. I remember Verando and Penelope talking, but I'm fuzzy on the details. Opting to quiz him on how his shoulder feels, he gives me short answers and spends most of the conversation avoiding my gaze.

 Marcus is groggy from aches and pains, and it seems my companions aren't really on speaking terms. We march in silence, eat in silence, and return to bed in silence. Once more, Penelope massages his shoulder, and I decide to do the same for Marcus. 

Attempting to make a joke, making light of our situation with older guardians, no one is in the mood for me. 

The last day of our trip can't come fast enough as the night drags on. Much to our collective relief, we are making a great time despite a storm following us, bringing some urgency to our travel. 

 Flurries start as we enter the edge of Novadari; Marcus takes our horses, handing them off to the stable hand near the inn we've booked for the night. It feels good to be out of the cold and get some hot food despite this being a fish town. While fish was not my favorite,  I don't find it nearly as offensive as red meat, and perhaps I can catch up on some much-needed protein here. 

The warmth seems to bring everyone back to life; we're in good spirits with idle talk and ignore the stares our large male friends gather from the locals.

We had not accounted for the fact that this town had not gotten its notice to liberate. So, to the common eye, I was walking around with a costly bodyguard in my silver-haired companion. Marcus is questionable, but Verando is so painfully a lycan that it's hard to ignore. Tensions run high with a slave sitting at a table with his perceived owners. 

I pull an older toboggan from my shoulder bag, and hand it to him. "Cover your hair. We're in hostile territory." I mutter as he pulls the hat on, though it does disappointingly little to hide his lineage with the startling eye color and physique. 

We couldn't hope to layer when he runs so hot; his muscles strain his thin shirt, and it's difficult to find sizes that fit him in elf clothing, considering they were a colder breed, much like magic users were. On the other hand, Marcus is bundled up entirely like I am. 

I take his hand and find that he's not ridiculously warm; I could only figure it was the suppression of his wolf.

"Tomorrow, I'll go secure us a boat," Marcus tells us, gulping his ale. "Maybe you can come with me, Nic? Show them the papers that Haryek gave you. I think it's best if Flames and Asshole over there stay behind. Magic and Lycans are still not widely accepted, and I don't want us getting barred."

The idea of them being alone together causes me a certain amount of discomfort that I'm not comfortable delving into. My lips part, yet Verando and Penelope are too busy muttering to each other to notice the insults from our older companion.

"Sure.. I'll come with you. Verando, can you scope out the town, and Pen, can you find us some more appropriate clothes?" My goal was to keep them busy, providing no time for mischief.

 Verando shrugs, leaning back into his chair only to regret his decisions and quickly sit forward again. Cursing through his teeth, he does everything he can to hide the amount of discomfort he is in. 

Penelope touches his shoulder, concern crossing her gaze as she palpates the tense muscle. "Let's treat you again tonight, okay?" she suggests. "It's been a long day; we should get some rest. Come on, I'll see if I can pop it back into place like last night."

That fast? They already wanted to go to bed?

"Lovely... Penelope and I will head off; let's meet here in the morning for breakfast?" He seems eager for her treatment, more enthusiastic than I'd anticipate for someone who hates to be touched as much as I do. 

Glancing back towards Marcus, I know I've picked my champion, but why do I feel I've chosen wrong? Perhaps it's because, for the first time, he isn't keeping his eyes on me as if he wished to take Marcus's place. Tonight, he seems willing to leave my side, to leave me to my devices with another man. "Goodnight." 

Marcus clears his throat, startling me as he touches my shoulder. "Something wrong?" 

"I just have a weird feeling," I tell him, shaking my head and taking a couple of bites of the remaining soup I have left.  "I'm sure it's nothing. Come on. I was promised a second attempt, and I need to work out some tension of my own. You can give me a massage." I tease him, pushing away from the table, blocking the image of the two skirting off together out of my mind.