Serene gulped and offered: “I like a man with spirit?”
Golden hesitated, then allowed himself a small smile, and allowed Serene to approach and touch the fingertips of his gloved hand.
“Come away,” Luke murmured.
“Nooooo,” Elliot wailed. “I won’t. I won’t. You’ll have to kill me. This is better than a play.”
“It’s not a play,” Luke said quietly. “She’s our friend, and she loves him, and they could die. Let them have a moment.”
He hooked his arm around Elliot’s neck and dragged him away. Elliot did not fight, because stupid Luke had a point, as he so often did, and he had ruined the entertainment by pointing out it was reality.
The trolls and the enemy humans were waiting in the woods. The harpies were above, wheeling in the sky, and Luke was close to him, close and warm, but he was going into battle as surely as Serene and Golden were. He might not be close or warm for long.
Elliot had wanted magic to be real, he thought, as he had thought a thousand times. Maybe just a little less real than this.
The lurching, dismayed sensation in the pit of his stomach was not at the thought of reality or mortality, but because Luke had grabbed Elliot and flown up into a hut in a tree.
Elliot gave a manly yell of terror, and then stumbled back across an earthen floor. It was the first time he had been inside a harpy’s home, he thought, and it was fascinating in the ways it was like a nest and in the ways it was like a house, woven twigs but with a roof, packed earth at the bottom of the nest. For some reason, it was not quite as fascinating as Luke’s blue eyes in the shadowy hut, or the rapid rise and fall of his chest.
“I’m sorry. You’re right, we do need you for the treaty, and I don’t mean to disrespect that or you, but you’ll be in danger down there and you can’t help until the fighting is done. I’ll tell Celaeno you’re here—”
“Good idea,” said Elliot, who had no aspirations toward being savaged for trespass by enraged harpies, and who also had to concede he was not much use in an actual battle.
“—I’ll tell any harpy I see so they can consult with you and you won’t be stuck here if I get killed—”
“Luke!” Elliot cut in. “I already said good idea! Please don’t talk about getting killed!”
“What? Oh.”
Luke looked truly surprised that Elliot might be concerned about Luke’s potential impending demise. Then he smiled, a small smile, as if the most important thing about Luke’s potential impending demise was that Elliot might be concerned.
Luke was so terrible and impossible. Elliot had no idea how to deal with him. He rumpled his hair and tried to explain why being put in a safe treehouse was all right by him.
“I don’t actually want to be on the field of battle. I wouldn’t be any help, and fields of battle are horrible places. That’s why they’re called fields of battle instead of fields of licorice, or . . .” Elliot could hear himself babbling, much worse than usual, and gave up. “Try not to die, Luke. Okay?”
“I always do,” murmured Luke, which was a blatant lie. “I’m sorry,” he added, and Elliot did not think he was sorry about lying. “This isn’t meant to be disrespect either, it’s just that I am—and you’re so—”
Despair went through Elliot, like a cold wind through winter-bare branches. He’d been trying, so hard, and now he’d said something wrong, right before Luke might die, and he had literally no idea what it was.
“I’m so what? Are you actually about to insult me right before you go off to war? Oh I don’t believe this, you loser—”
He did not get out another word past “loser,” because Luke crossed the floor, took Elliot’s face in his hands, and kissed him.
Wow, Elliot thought. Wow, Sunborns are very grabby.
Men of action and not words, Elliot supposed. Well, it wasn’t like that was a huge surprise.
Elliot was really trying to keep thinking, though he might have lost the ability to do so coherently. He reminded himself forcefully that Luke was not very experienced, and he should be careful, or gentle, or pull away, or something. Except he didn’t do anything of the kind, and Luke was, no surprise, a quick study.
He kissed Luke back, hands sliding through Luke’s soft hair, Luke’s wings draped warm around his shoulders. He felt tense and scared and safe all at once, in the calm place in the middle of a lightning storm.
He was full-on making out with Luke Sunborn, in a house in the sky over a battlefield.
Oh, God damn it, the battle, Elliot realized, and felt honor bound to step back and remind Luke there was a war on.
“Oh,” said Luke, sounding dazed, and then: “Oh. I have to go.”
“No, really?” Elliot asked, trying to be normal and sounding cranky, which was close enough. “Do tell.”
It was a good effort, Elliot told himself. He should be very proud of himself for restoring the status quo.
“Wait,” Elliot called out, as Luke was turning to go.
Actually Elliot was an idiot who ruined everything, always. He ducked past one of Luke’s wings and took hold of his leather shirt in one fist, held him pressed against the wooden frame of the doorway and kissed Luke hard on his startled mouth, with despair and fear and tenderness. Luke kissed him back, as if he had an answer for all Elliot’s questions. His hands would have shaken, if he was not holding on so hard.
Then he let go. He pushed Luke right out of the harpy’s nest and sent him wheeling down to the battle below.
It was nothing, Elliot told himself. Battle ardor. Battle fever. Battle emotional stuff! People did things in battles they wouldn’t necessarily do otherwise, on account of the adrenalin and fear of death. It didn’t have to mean anything.
Elliot sat up in his eyrie, listening to the sounds of battle below, then stood up quickly at the sound of wings.
It was Celaeno, not Luke. Elliot felt betrayed by the universe.
“Luke left me here so I would be safe during the battle,” he explained. “Are Luke and Serene all right? Did we win? Do you need me for peace talks?”
“We are victorious, but I have not seen Luke or his comrade,” said Celaeno. “And you are welcome in my nest at any time, as you are the chosen partner of my nestmate’s son.”
Ah, yes. Elliot had forgotten about that particular demented lie of Luke’s.
“Partner, sure,” Elliot said. “Totally. So, peace talks?”
“The trolls have agreed to talk with us,” said Celaeno. “They trusted in a group of humans who are strange to us, and who carried strange weapons that did not work. If they had worked, I fear today might have had a different outcome.”
“Could you take me down?” Elliot asked. “Could you take me down right away?”