them. Kalai might never have been through anything as terrible as what had happened to Tauran, but he knew a thing or two about pity. Tauran seemed to realize as much.
There was a rawness in the air, a vulnerability. Kalai wanted Tauran to know he intended to keep the exposed parts of him safe, that he wasn’t about to let Tauran fall.
“I can’t figure out if I was just blind.” Tauran’s hand shook again when he ran it through his hair, tugging loose the band holding it back in the process, but he didn’t seem to notice. “I was young, careless. Happy. The whole world at my feet. The next day... disaster. Andreus was my commander. I trusted him. I trusted all of them without hesitation.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think anyone was aware of what the rebels had been plotting behind the scenes. Suddenly, everything was just... chaos.”
“The Battle of the Broken Wings,” Kalai whispered, cautious not to push too hard. “What did Andreus want?”
Tauran shook his head. “I think he was delusional. He had voiced unhappiness with Falka’s way of running the guard in the past, but I didn’t think he would... I respected him. Trusted him. And now a part of me is glad he’s dead. Fuck.”
Kalai stroked Tauran’s wrist, thumb rubbing slow circles over the beat of his pulse.
“I need... some time,” Tauran said, brushing a strand of hair back from Kalai’s forehead.
Kalai nodded. “Take as much as you need.” He lay down again, his head on Tauran’s shoulder. Tauran’s arm around him felt like a fortress. “I miss Leyra,” he said, after a moment’s pause. “It’s weird not having her around.”
“I’m sure I could convince Falka to let you come by the tower,” Tauran said. “I certainly wouldn’t mind you taking her off my hands for a few hours.”
Kalai smiled. “Still a menace?”
“Oh, yes.” Tauran ran his thumb along Kalai’s arm. The air felt lighter without the memories of dead dragons adrift in the room. “What did you do today, all by yourself?”
“I wasn’t all by myself, for once,” Kalai said. “One of Falka’s men came by to pick up some translations.” He left out the part about the temple documents and the scrawled mentions of theft. It could wait until Tauran was in a better state. Instead, he said, “I found this strange note with what seems like a poem or riddle written on it and underlined in red ink.”
“Oh, yeah?” Tauran raised his head a little. “What does it say?”
Kalai pushed off the bed, his body cool where he had been pressed against Tauran’s side. He fetched the note from downstairs and brought it back up. Stretching out on his front on the bed, a pleasant tickle rolled over his skin when Tauran’s hand found its place at the small of his back. Kalai read the note about the dragon mother out loud.
Tauran frowned. “That sounds foreboding.”
“Any idea what it might mean?”
“Maybe just an old children’s tale?”
Kalai turned the note to show him the underlined text. “Then why is it written so urgently?”
“I don’t know.”
“There are numbers on the back,” Kalai added. “I think they’re years.”
Tauran took the note from him and flipped it over. “1134? That’s, what, 292 years from now?”
Kalai shook his head. “Not by the Sharoani calendar. 1134 is in four Kykarosi months.”
“Well,” Tauran said, handing back the note. “I’ll keep my eye out for a massive fire-breathing dragon in four month’s time.” He was quiet for a moment. “I asked Roric about the creepy rug.”
“Yeah?” Kalai placed the note in his pocket.
“Roric knows just about everything that goes on in the guard, and he hasn’t heard of anything strange happening here.”
“He’s your commander,” Kalai said. “Maybe it’s classified?”
Tauran barked out a laugh. “Nothing’s classified between me and Roric. Trust me. That guy’s as much of a wild thing as I used to be.” He rubbed Kalai’s back. “Hey.”
“What?”
“You saved my sanity, tonight. Again.” The corner of his mouth quirked, banishing the last of those haunted shadows from his eyes. “You were right about the massage. Thanks.”
Kalai shook his head. “It’s the least I can do. Besides, I liked it. It was nice.”
“Yeah, well.” The mischievousness returned to Tauran’s gaze. “Maybe you can do it again, sometime.”
When Tauran curled a finger under his jaw and drew him in, Kalai leaned into the kiss with a quiet hum of pleasure. “I’d like that very much.”
* * *
Two weeks passed with nearly the same daily routine. Tauran