Forever Moore (Forbidden Love #2) Read online

  “You’re putting words in my mouth. I didn’t say that.”

  “But is it untrue?” Orien asked.

  “Only because I miss my mother and I am trapped in my room. Otherwise…well, it might be quite nice here.”

  Orien nearly stumbled backward, not having expected such a declaration. Living as far from society as they did was not for everyone. He knew it was not the life for Ansil, but the thought that he didn’t hate it made him soften more toward the boy. “I’m taking you out. Not far, but for some air. Don’t run. Don’t scream. Keep your hood over your head. If you disobey me, I’ll kill you. Slowly.”

  Ansil looked up at him, his blue gaze holding Orien’s in a strange way…and then…and then his mouth curled into a gentle smile.

  “You’re smiling when I threaten to kill you?”

  “You won’t kill me. I’m smiling because you’re taking me out. You won’t regret it. I promise I’ll be good.”

  Somehow Orien knew he would. “Let us go,” he said curtly.

  Ansil followed excitedly behind him. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, a coat and boots were there for him. Of course the boy would need his boots. How that had slipped his mind, he did not know.

  Ansil was quick with the boots and then the coat, which was too large for his slight frame. It drowned him, and Orien bit back a smile.

  Ansil pulled the hood up and followed Orien through the house and out back. The moment he stepped outside, he let out a great sigh. It was full of joy, but that joy was like a knife to Orien’s chest, the blade made of guilt. He was keeping the boy locked away. Denying him simple pleasures such as fresh air.

  When they stepped into the yard, Ansil threw his hands in the air and twirled in a circle, laughing. “It is wonderful, Orien! Thank you.”

  Orien couldn’t find his voice, was not sure what to say or do, so he just watched…and felt. Christ, he could feel Ansil’s glee radiate from his small body just from being outside.

  “May I run?” Ansil asked. “My legs could do with a good stretch.”

  Unable to find his voice, Orien simply nodded. Ansil sprinted, running large circles around him in the snow, which was coming down slightly harder now, but it did not seem to bother Ansil. Orien found himself spinning, his eyes following Ansil’s every move as he ran and kicked and laughed as though the simple run was the single most wonderful moment of his life.

  Had Orien ever felt that kind of joy? He had been held captive before as well, once when he had been on a job and gotten captured. When he broke free, he did not act as Ansil did. He wasn’t sure he was capable of that pure elation.

  Ansil stopped, bent over, his breath coming out in quick puffs that Orien could see in the cold air. “I apologize. I know it must seem foolish—”

  “No,” Orien cut him off. “It does not.” In that moment, there was a part of Orien that envied the little lord.

  “Thank you.” His cheeks were as red as his lips, but Orien did not know if it was because of the run or if he was blushing.

  “Your skin…it’s pale like the snow.” He wished for the words back—Ansil’s skin should not matter to him—but that was not possible.

  “That is what they say.” He turned his back to Orien, likely uncomfortable with Orien’s words. A male should not say those things to another. Ansil, still facing away from him, asked, “We do not have to go inside yet, do we?”

  Yes. “No. We can walk a short while, but we must stay close to home.” Home? This was not Ansil’s home. “And if we see anyone, you must hide. If they see you, I will have to kill them.” He knew it would be the most productive threat he could issue. Ansil was kind…innocent. He would not want the blood of another on his hands.

  The boy turned, looked down. “I understand.”

  Orien’s guilt only grew.

  As they walked together, the silence weighed heavy on Orien, like packed snow. Typically, he valued silence, but in that moment it felt wrong, made his skin itch. “It is inappropriate…the way you lie with Thalia.”

  “What?” Ansil shrieked. “I have not lain with her. I would never. I…” His eyes darted away.

  He what? Orien wondered. “In polite society, she would not be permitted in your chamber at all.”

  “But we’re not in polite society, are we?” Ansil snapped back. “Please do not take her away from me. I would never touch her. She is…she is the only true friend I have here.”

  It was then that Orien realized the knife was still in his chest, Ansil’s words having twisted it. He was denying Ansil too much. “I will allow it.”

  “Who is your truest friend, Orien?”

  He was still not accustomed to hearing his name on Ansil’s tongue. “Gaius. I would trust him with my life. Outside of that, Valkyrie.”

  “Your horse?”

  “You sound surprised. Surely you do not think me the type to have many friends. Valkyrie is loyal and strong. She is a warrior and has been by my side, fought by my side, for many years.”

  “Well, I think that’s sweet.”

  Orien wrinkled his nose. “There is nothing sweet about me, Little Lord.”

  “I think that’s what you want others to believe. Maybe you believe it yourself, but I do not think it’s true. Maybe I am foolish, though.”

  “You are not foolish.”

  Ansil’s eyes glowed, and his face split into an ear-to-ear smile. “That means you believe yourself sweet?”

  “I do no such thing,” Orien replied, surprised to realize he was smiling as well. “I’m just saying you are not foolish.” He had threatened to kill innocent people. How could the boy think him sweet? “What do you do with your carvings?” he asked in an attempt to change the subject.

  “Nothing yet. They fill my chamber at home. I would like to sell them at the market, but it is not proper for me to do so.”

  “Would you? If you could?”

  “I do not care what is proper or not, Orien. It is my hobby, my love. I also enjoy birdwatching and…well, plants and trees and natural gemstones—nature in general. Oh, and reading! Doc has allowed me to peruse some medical journals, which are quite interesting, though some of the details turn my stomach. And Thalia always brings me adventure stories.”

  “You enjoy a great many things.”

  The blush returned to his snowy skin. “I apologize. I’m sure you do not want to hear of my silly interests.”

  But he did, and for the first time in Orien’s life, something scared him. His interest in Ansil, his curiosity and the way he saw Ansil, frightened him because he longed to know more. “It is fine, Little Lord. We should return home, though.”

  Ansil nodded, sadness playing off his soft, gentle features.

  They walked back to Thornwell in silence. They did not see anyone on their way back to Ansil’s room. When they arrived, the boy stopped, put a hand on Orien’s arm. “Thank you for today. It…it means more than you will ever know.”

  Orien gave him a nod. “I will bring you out again soon, Little Lord.”

  Ansil stepped inside, and Orien closed the door, feeling the echo of it inside him.

  14

  Ansil

  Thalia finished drawing Ansil a warm bath, using the heat from the hearth, as he paced the length of the bedchamber, certain he’d soon wear a path in the floorboards. Orien had promised to take him into the woods again today so he could choose his own branch from an aspen tree. Orien had been impressed with the hawk carving he’d finished last night, though that had been made of pine, and when Ansil mentioned different types of wood, Orien promised to let him choose one to his liking.

  He figured he might die of boredom if he could not make good use of his brain and hands. That had always been his way. His mind could concoct all sorts of ideas and stories, but if he could not move his limbs in a useful manner as well, he might wither away.

  He was reminded of the time he and his mother visited the village apothecary to assess damage from a great storm that’d blown through the te
rritory. While his mother had spoken to Hyram, the owner, of emergency provisions, Ansil had helped gather supplies that had fallen from a damaged display. Oils, spices, herbs, and healing stones lay scattered on the stone floor as villagers formed a line outside the door, hoping to have their remedies and treatments dispensed in a timely manner. He gathered the items in groups and placed them in a more logical order to help Hyram, but he also did not want to overstep. He had always been able to see things from a methodical and aesthetic point of view rather than in sums or quantities, and his mother said he might use it to his advantage some day.

  What was his advantage in this case? Surely it was so he would not lose his mind.

  “You are restless today,” Thalia remarked with a smirk as she tested the temperature of the water. “More than usual.”

  “I cannot help it,” he replied. “Orien will be taking me outdoors again.”

  As Thalia scrutinized him further, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment; he’d likely sounded childish.

  “You are fond of him,” she stated as he glanced out the window for the hundredth time.

  “Who?” His head whipped back, his pulse spiking.

  She arched an eyebrow.

  Could she tell how much he enjoyed Orien’s company? How his eyes sought him out at the window, how his ears listened for him in the hall? How his pulse pitter-pattered when he was near? Surely it was because of his confinement to these four walls for far too many days in a row.

  Ansil made a frustrated sound. “He is my captor.” And he needed to continue reminding himself of that fact.

  “For good reason,” she replied, affixing his towel on a nearby hook.

  “What reason?” But he knew the question was futile. Still, he could never stop wondering if Thalia knew the exact details of his captivity.

  “I told you, Orien is a good man. If he feels he needed to take you away from your home, it was with good intentions.”

  Frustration bubbled up like it always did, tempered only by the same old struggle to believe Orien. He didn’t want to like him—admire him, even—or anyone else in this house, for that matter. But he couldn’t help himself.

  He’d grown to care about Thalia and Doc, and even Arya and Gaius, though they did not interact as much or as freely. Cadence had begun making his favorite desserts, and sometimes he forgot he was being imprisoned. Likely that was dangerous thinking.

  “Is there anything else you need?” Thalia asked as she made to leave the room.

  “No, thank you.” As soon as the door was locked behind her, he breathed a sigh of relief. Not because he wanted to be alone, but because Thalia had become a friend, and being immodest in front of her didn’t feel right, especially after Orien had questioned his intentions. Besides, Ansil’s needs had been tended to his whole life, so it felt refreshing to fend for himself.

  The warm water felt soothing to his muscles, and the rose-scented soap smelled nice. Every noise he heard in the hallway made him hyperaware. He imagined what might happen if Orien were to breeze through the door right then. It made his prick come alive, and shame bloomed across his cheeks. He should not have such thoughts about Orien, nor any other man, for that matter. He could not bear the disappointment if his mother were to find out about his deviant thoughts. He had already put off finding a suitable girl to marry. He presumed when the time came, he might choose someone he felt a friendship with, like Thalia. He would be nervous about performing in the bedroom, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

  He toweled off and dressed himself in a clean tunic and breeches that Doc had delivered to him after he’d been moved to this room. He did not exactly miss his royal clothing, except they were less itchy than the rough cotton he now pulled against his skin.

  Once he was finished with his bath, Thalia returned with a new book from Doc, but he was too impatient to read, staring out the window instead. When he saw Herry bring Valkyrie out of the stable, his heart sank. Orien apparently had a planned ride today, which meant he would have to wait for his return.

  He sank onto the bed, moping and feeling sorry for himself, until he heard Orien’s heavy footsteps in the hall and then his chamber door shutting as he entered his own room. His cheeks heated yet again as he imagined Orien arriving in the middle of his bathing.

  A brisk knock on their adjoining door startled him. “You may enter.”

  As Orien swept through the room, he presented him with a red apple, and Ansil’s heart leaped. “Thank you.”

  He figured it was his consolation gift for not being able to walk with him today, so he drew in a breath, attempting to temper his reaction.

  “We are set to ride into the woods on Valkyrie today,” he said, and Ansil stilled. He had not expected that news. “It would be a speedier trip, and then you could spend the afternoon carving in the solarium instead of your room.”

  Orien obviously did not trust him on his own horse, and he supposed he understood it, but regardless, joy budded in his chest, making his voice unsteady. “I…I would like that very much.”

  Ansil followed Orien out the door. At the bottom of the stairs he was presented with the same cloak with the large hood he suspected was not only for the crisp winter air, but to hide himself should they be spotted in the woods.

  They greeted Gaius on their way to the stables, and a strange look passed between the men. Gaius did not seem to approve of Orien taking him on a ride, and for a split second, he feared Orien would change his mind. But Orien appeared not to heed his silent warning as they strode past him to where Valkyrie was waiting.

  Herry sneezed as he provided Ansil a boost onto the saddle, and he wondered again why the man chose to work in the stables. Perhaps he didn’t have a choice. But that didn’t seem to ring true. The man appeared to enjoy grooming the horses and was always in good spirits with Dimitri, the other stable hand.

  Orien sank down in the saddle behind him, and Ansil was reminded of riding through the forest bound and gagged; his gut roiled momentarily. But feeling Orien’s size and heat behind him on the horse created all new sensations this time around. And as Orien’s hands wound around his waist to grab the reins, he felt safe and protected.

  As they trotted along the path away from the manor, Ansil turned his head, hoping he was out of earshot of Herry as he asked a question. “Why does he work with animals if they make him so miserable?”

  “Are you referring to the hay making him sneeze?”

  Ansil nodded. He felt Orien shift in his seat, and he was afraid he had insulted the man. It took Orien a moment to respond as he cleared his throat. “If someone or something were to forbid you from doing what you love most, would you be able to stop doing it?”

  Ansil considered how much he had yearned for his carving knife when it’d been taken from him, and his stomach constricted. “Ah, I see your point.”

  They fell into a comfortable silence on the ride, Ansil enjoying the solid pressure of the other man against him as he listened to the birds chirping. He lifted his gaze to the canopies of the trees, noticing other woodland creatures that he easily spotted from his perch at the window.

  The crisp atmosphere of the forest likely made his cheeks pink, but he loved drawing the fresh air into his lungs. He noticed how Orien chose not to remain on the designated path as they trotted through the woods. It made the ride feel almost clandestine, but he did not question it aloud.

  “I noticed a thicket of aspens on an earlier ride,” he said low in Ansil’s ear, making him shiver. “If my memory serves me well, we should come upon them soon enough.”

  After another minute, Ansil pointed in excitement when they came across the copse of trees, the branches bare save for several yellow leaves that had hung on through the colder months. There were even more aspens than they had near the castle grounds, and this made Ansil giddy, though he didn’t know why exactly. Maybe because he always enjoyed the look of the sparse white bark and the oval leaves that appeared to shimmer during the autumn months.
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  Orien brought Valkyrie to a halt and helped Ansil dismount, and then they trudged around bushes to the trees.

  Ansil chose branches which appeared thick and sturdy enough, then watched in fascination as Orien brandished a long blade from his waist and began whittling away at them. He wanted to help but knew Orien would never relinquish control of the piercing object, especially out in the woods.

  Once satisfied, Ansil helped carry the wood to the satchel hanging from the saddle.

  “Why do you prefer aspen wood?” Orien asked as he offered Ansil a boost onto the saddle.

  “It is stronger than basswood but less so than walnut,” he replied as Orien situated his weight behind him. “It is of a softer variety useful for whittling details and made of a lovely grain that can be polished easily.”

  “I see,” he said, reaching around him for the reins, and they began a steady trot. “Besides birds, what other sorts of things have you carved?”

  “I’ve made a harmonica and a flute for the chambermaid’s children,” he relayed with some pride. “They were not perfect, but once they were polished, they worked well enough.”

  “Do you play an instrument?” he asked.

  “No, I do not have any sort of musical talent.”

  “Nor I,” Orien replied with a chuckle, and Ansil looked back to smile warmly at him. Their gazes met and held for an elongated moment, and Ansil felt a rush of warmth flood his veins.

  Suddenly there was a noise on the path ahead, and Orien’s entire body stiffened. He made a noise, some sort of whistling command, and pulled sharply on the reins. Valkyrie veered off the trail and galloped through the trees as Ansil’s heart kept time with the horse’s hoofs. Another command, and Valkyrie swerved behind a large fallen tree trunk with the ground uprooted, which shielded them from view.

  The Huntsman placed his hand solidly over Ansil’s mouth, his arm encircled his chest, and he pulled him tightly against his body. “There is a solo rider on the path. If you in any way attempt to alert him, I shall slit your throat.”