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Technically the estate belonged to Tharkay, but he seemed to treat it as a functional clearing house for anyone who had the slightest interest in bothering Laurence. Laurence spent most of his time out on the estate, talking to Temeraire about his radical political ideas. He was retired. He thought he deserved some peace and quiet.
“This is your problem Laurence,” Roland said, cheroot clamped firmly in the corner of her mouth, stomping through the mud after him when he was on one of his long walks through the woods at the edge of Tharkay’s property. “You’re too damn polite to everyone.”
Laurence snorted. Only Jane would think the primary flaw of his career as an aviator was being too polite.
“Most people just want to be friends with Temeraire,” he pointed out, not slowing down. If Roland wanted to bother him, she could keep up.
“Well, he is trying to get elected to the commons, god help us all,” she said. “And eating you out of house and home with the amount of letters he writes to academics up and down the continent.”
“It’s Tharkay’s house,” Laurence said. Roland looked at him, but he had no idea what she was trying to communicate. He thought she didn’t realise how the scar made her different to read.
“You seem awfully comfortable regardless,” she said. Laurence shrugged.
“Tharkay extended his invitation indefinitely,” he said. “Temeraire likes him. There’s few other places I could make sure he was accommodated and happy.”
“It wasn’t a criticism, Laurence,” Roland said. “It’s damned lucky you have Tharkay. Even if you wanted to put him in a covert, Temeraire’d have half the dragons in open rebellion within the week.”
Laurence rather thought that was underestimating Temeraire’s powers of persuasion.
“Temeraire and Tharkay are friends,” he said. “It makes sense Tharkay would allow his friend to be comfortable and happy on his property, just like any other house guest.”
That was maybe stretching the limits of propriety, since Temeraire was hardly any other house guest, but Roland knew as much about the rules of propriety as Laurence did about flying to the moon, which was nothing. He’d probably get away with it.
“And I know you’re trying to change the subject, you know,” he added. “You’re hiding out here because you don’t want to deal with the Admiralty.”
“Tch,” Roland grunted, and stopped to plant one foot on a tree root and smoke her cheroot grumpily. “Bleating sheep, all of them. I spend my whole life making sure I am free of men, and now they benight me at every turn. Present company excluded.”
“I’m flattered,” Laurence said, smiling. Roland puffed away at her cheroot.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” she said, but he could see the corner of her mouth twitching in humour. It had been a long several years, and the return of Roland’s prickly but fierce friendship had been a surprising balm.
“Do you have plans for dealing with them, the Admiralty that is?” Laurence asked, when Roland finished her cheroot and crushed it beneath her boot and they resumed their tramp along the farm track.
“Captain Little is helping me draw up some plans to have dragons do some kind of government work, helping repair bridges the French set alight, that sort of thing,” she said.
“How is Little?” Laurence asked. It was a cold but bright day, and as they emerged from the small wood, the sun shone over the hill and made everything seem haloed in light. Laurence had seen every part of the world now, the plains of Africa, the red dirt of Australia, and he would give up none of it for it had all been with Temeraire, but there was no sight greater than an English hill under sun.
“Hmm,” Roland said. “Fine, though it’s always damned hard knowing what’s going on in his head.”
“Are he and John?” Laurence asked, and then immediately regretted it.
“Granby?” Roland raised an eyebrow. “No, I think they broke years ago. Why? I thought Granby was at the covert in Scotland, trying to get that feral beast he calls a dragon to not set her fellow compatriots alight any time she gets out of temper.”
“Oh, uh, he is, I think,” Laurence said. “His last letter said he was getting new orders soon, but I didn’t know what they might be.”
Roland grunted.
“I hadn’t heard any news, but I haven’t seen a real aviator in months, it’s all paper-pushers at the Admiralty,” she said. “But we’ll be wanting to make an example of that fire-breather. It’s a feather for our cap having her, even with the war over. If he can ever get her to behave.”
“She is devoted to him,” Laurence said, trying to scrounge up some generosity for Iskierka.
“Hmm,” Roland said, clearly not convinced. “I’d tell you to try and help him talk some sense into her, since you seem to manage it with Temeraire half the time, but then I remember the other half the time you’re committing treason or something.”
Laurence smiled, glad she could at least joke about it now. “If there’s a trick to making Temeraire do something he truly objects to, I haven’t found it yet,” he said. “Half the time he’s right, and the other half of the time he sees the fault before I do.”
“Oh, I know he’s got you firmly wrapped around his claw,” Roland said. “You’re damned lucky Tharkay lets you stay here, otherwise you’d be out on the street with the money you spend on jewels for him. Worse than a man with his mistress.”
Laurence felt himself blush, and looked away to disguise it. Every aviator indulged their dragon, it was hardly shameful, but it was revealing to have it described as a man with his mistress. Temeraire was by far the most important person in his life, dragon or no, and would be for as long as they both lived, hopefully a long time.
“Let’s head back to the house,” he said eventually, and Roland followed him when he turned. “Tharkay should be back from town now.”
It was late afternoon as they approached the front lawn, and Tharkay’s staff had started to light the lamps in the house. It blazed with light, reflected off the sheen of Temeraire’s scales. He was half-curled up the steps of the house, his head resting on the top step. Tharkay sat next to him, resting his chin on his hand while he listened to Temeraire. Over the years, Laurence did not know exactly when, Tharkay’s face had ceased to be inscrutable and had become, to Laurence, as easy to read as an open book. He was gently happy, at peace listening to a dragon on his front step. Laurence’s dragon. Part of him felt a deep well of joy at that. Tharkay’s affection for Temeraire was different than Laurence’s, but no less strong. Temeraire deserved the affection of every sensible man.
“And that is why Halley was able to determine it was the same comet-,” Temeraire was saying, when Laurence stopped at his huge shoulder and put a hand on his warm scales.
“Darling, I’m sure Mister Tharkay does not need a second education in the movements of the heavens,” he said gently. Temeraire turned quickly to twine around him, his sensuous body embracing Laurence.
“Laurence! We were wondering when you would return,” he said happily. “And Tharkay was asking about my recent correspondence with the masters at Greenwich. I couldn’t not share if he asked. That would be impolite.”
“Quite, my dear,” Laurence said, smiling up at Temeraire’s big golden eyes. “Even so, it’s getting late. Why don’t we let Tharkay retire for dinner?”
Temeraire nuzzled up against him, purring in agreement.
“So long as you come to my pavilion afterwards,” he said, with a little jealousy. Laurence laughed and put a gentle hand on Temeraire’s face, feeling the long filaments of his whiskers.
“Of course darling,” he said. “I’ll come and have tea with you, it’s warm enough.”
Temeraire murmured happily, and finally disengaged from him. Tharkay and Roland had watched this with faint amusement.
“Are we dressing for dinner?” Laurence said. Tharkay and Roland hadn’t had formal upbringings, but Tharkay was a lord now, with a grand house, and Laurence thought he should encourage them to make the effort, if at least infrequently.
“Not precisely,” Tharkay said. “But I was going to change. Travel from town was a little muddy.”
Roland huffed. “I’ll put on a clear pair of britches at least. Laurence, if you put on a cravat for dinner I will drown you in your soup,” she said, already going into the house.
Tharkay looked at Laurence and raised an eyebrow.
“I suppose we’ll have to forgo the soup course,” he said drily, and followed Roland into the house, leaving Laurence to snort in amusement to himself.
Tharkay kept few servants, and Laurence certainly wasn’t grand enough, after years of campaign and hard travel, to keep a valet. He changed before dinner on his own, leaving off the cravat but he did change into a more formal coat. The informality of the majority of his friends and peers was never going to rub off entirely. There was something about being in England that made him feel it more acutely. In Australia or the Americas, there had been something of the newness, the challenge, of being overseas that made him feel like he was in a new element. In England, in a grand house that could have easily been his father’s or a different lord’s, there was something deeply rooted in him that returned to the comfort of formality.
Tharkay’s house had a formal dining room, but Laurence had never seen it. All the meals had been served in a drawing room on a small table by a door to the terrace. Today the doors were left open so they could watch Temeraire eating his own dinner, as fastidiously as any society matron.
For all Tharkay’s eccentricities, he knew the value of a good cook, and the meal was excellent. They drank port at the table, since Roland was neither a lady nor interested in retiring, and told familiar stories of their exploits and adventures. Laurence always thought he would eventually reach the bottom of the well when it came to Tharkay’s stories, but the man always had a novel tale of his life to offer up. It was a most pleasant experience, sipping port and picking at a lovely meal, listening to a story that had adventure, humour, and Tharkay at the centre of it. He felt full, of good food and friendship and the gentle feeling of contentment, when he went out to say goodnight to Temeraire.
The night was warm, and Laurence rolled up his sleeves to cool down a little. Temeraire’s dark scales got the light of the fire pit that burned in his pavilion, glittering a little. Laurence came up to his side and put a hand against the curve of his shoulder, Temeraire’s dark scales glittering a little in the light of the pavilion’s fire pit.
“Good evening darling,” he said. Temeraire lifted his head.
“Did you have a good dinner Laurence? Tharkay said Admiral Roland goes back to London tomorrow,” he said.
“That’s right,” Laurence said, coming around so he could stroke his whiskers affectionately. “I’m sure she’ll come say goodbye to you before she leaves.”
“Some of the longwings in the London covert have been writing to me,” Temeraire said. “Or, well, their captains have been writing but I’m fairly sure they’d been writing honestly. I was wondering if we’ll be able to visit London soon.”
Laurence hummed, mostly to give himself a moment to think. “I’m not sure darling,” he said. “It would be difficult to find lodging in London, and Tharkay has been very generous with allowing us to stay here as long as we need. Perhaps if you’re successful in the election to the House of Commons?”
Temeraire rumbled, the sound he made when he was mildly disgruntled.
“Tharkay says it may be some time before the lawyers can determine if a dragon can be an MP, even though I don’t know why I need a lawyer to say I’m intelligent when my letters to parliament make that very clear!”
Laurence petted his neck firmly, trying to offer some comfort.
“For men who are used to a certain world, it can be a challenge to open their mind. I’m sure they’ll come around darling.”
Laurence didn’t think of himself as a radical by nature, but he realised now that he had a mind more open than perhaps most men. It was not his nature, but it was not in man’s nature to fly either and Temeraire had made that possible for him. It was also Temeraire that made radicalness possible.
“If we can’t go to London,” Temeraire said. “We should have some of our friends come to us. Tharkay has the space.”
Laurence smiled. “We can’t impose on Tharkay too much,” he said. “We are still his guests.”
“But most of our friends are also Tharkay’s friends,” Temeraire said reasonably. “Will you please ask him? I know Lily and Immortalis and all the others are trying, but their captains don’t really understand why they want to write letters, and most of them can’t even read!”
Laurence tried to stroke Temeraire’s neck gently. It was hard for him to be so much at the forefront of thinking sometimes.
“I shall ask Tharkay,” Laurence said gently. “But you must prepare yourself for him to refuse, or to put conditions on visits. It may not be possible to accommodate many dragons at once, especially heavy-weights.”
“I am sure he will be reasonable,” Temeraire said. Laurence was pretty sure Temeraire defined reasonable as whatever agreed with Temeraire’s thoughts and opinions, but he didn’t voice the thought. Instead, he curled up closer to Temeraire, letting himself rest his head on Temeraire’s scales. He would go inside the house in a moment, to the well-apportioned bedroom Tharkay had given him, but for now he wanted to stay with Temeraire, watching the stars slowly reveal themselves in the dark blanket of the night sky.
&&&
Roland left just after they all broke their fast the next day. One of the medium-weight dragons from the London covert came to fetch her and her luggage, the captain a red-cheeked jovial man, with a Somerset accent so strong Temeraire looked at him quizzically every time he spoke. It took all of Laurence’s hard-worn forbearance not to laugh, and he mentally filed away a note to himself that Temeraire swiftly needed an education on all the sorts of man England (and, he supposed, Wales, Scotland and Ireland) could produce. If Temeraire was serious about his efforts to join the government, and he certainly seemed serious, then he would need to know not just all the types of dragon he might represent, but all the types of person as well.
“Look after yourself Laurence,” Roland said, when Tharkay’s staff were loading up her small amount of luggage. It seemed Tharkay had deliberately hired for unflappability, or perhaps they were inured from exposure to Temeraire, since none of them even blinked at loading luggage into the belly netting of a Yellow Reaper rather than a carriage.
“I always do,” Laurence said. Roland snorted, and clasped his hand tightly.
“Temeraire,” she said, in a raised voice, so Temeraire could hear her from where he was curled up. “Make sure you keep him out of trouble.”
“It is not my fault that Laurence is so capable in locating trouble,” Temeraire said primly, one eye on the Yellow Reaper. They’d exchanged greetings, and Temeraire had asked for news from the London covert, but most Yellow Reapers were incurious and phlegmatic by nature, and this one had most shared news of various captains’ romances, which so profoundly disinterested Temeraire as to nearly put him to sleep.
Roland laughed, and clapped Laurence on the shoulder one last time. “You know, whenever I’m annoyed with the world, I’m always glad to know you have a dragon just as difficult as you are,” she said. Laurence snorted. He knew Roland’s sense of humour when he heard it.
“Take care Roland,” he said. She smiled at him, her scar pulling it at the side, and turned to shake Tharkay’s hand.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” she said. Laurence doubted she even called the prime minister “my lord”, let alone anyone she considered a friend. “Take care Tenzing, don’t let these two run all over you.”
“My pleasure, Admiral,” Tharkay said, inclining his head slightly, his mouth twitching in a smile.
Roland wasn’t one for belaboured goodbyes. She turned smartly and pulled herself onto the Yellow Reaper’s back, clipping herself in by her belt.
“Come along, Captain Yandle,” she called to the captain, currently chatting with one of Tharkay’s staff. “I haven’t got all day.”
“Yes, sir,” he said quickly, and scrambled up after her, a lot less elegantly. “Let’s go Leonia, we’ll be back in London by suppertime.”
In the great flapping of wings and inflating of air sacs, Laurence did not hear whatever Leonia said, although she appeared untroubled by the luggage or audience of servants watching her take off. He and Tharkay watched as Leonia climbed, until Captain Yandle and Roland were only small specks on her back.
“I hope Roland’s departure is not too much of a blow to you,” Tharkay said evenly, when Laurence finally looked away from the distant dragon.
“I beg your pardon?” Laurence said in surprise. He wasn’t sure what Tharkay meant.
Tharkay clasped his hands behind his back. “I mean only that you will be alone here,” he said. “As my guest, it would be remiss of me to not provide for your entertainment.”
That was stretching the requirements of hospitality to their limits. Laurence didn’t believe he could, in truth, be called a guest. It shamed his honour, a little, to realise he was more of a hanger-on, but he prided himself on not letting his pride get in the way of the truth. He was a hanger-on, to Tharkay, to Temeraire, since he had not yet found a niche for himself.
“I’m not so well-bred I need to be entertained at all moments,” he said, trying not to sound prickly. He’d thought Tharkay would have categorised himself as one of Laurence’s friends, after all they had experienced together, but he couldn’t force the man to call himself a friend if he didn’t wish to. “You have a beautiful parcel of estate, and I haven’t yet seen every corner of it.”
“I dare say you know the estate better than I do,” Tharkay said. “But please don’t restrain yourself from inviting guests to join you. It is my wish that you and Temeraire feel at home here.”
Temeraire had returned to his pavilion, and was scratching away at one of his sand tables, a clerk, paid for by Tharkay, copying down what he wrote to paper. Laurence watched him, thinking of everything Tharkay had extended to him and to Temeraire over the last several months. Laurence wouldn’t do anything to displease him.
“If it will make you feel better, I’ll happily write to some friends in the Corps,” he said. Tharkay’s expression was placidly unreadable.
“My home is open to your friends Laurence,” he said. “Will you dine in the house tonight? I am speaking with some tenants this afternoon.”
Tharkay always meticulously informed Laurence of his movements, politely asking about his plans as if Laurence had any occupation. He was a man of leisure, living on a friend’s charity, without future prospects. He made himself smile.
“I am sure your cook is one of the best in England,” he said. “And I may have been a corpsman, but in the Navy we knew never to turn down an opportunity for a fine meal.”
Tharkay nodded elegantly. “Just so,” he said, with a small smile. “Please tell Temeraire he may call on any of the clerks in the house.”
With that, Tharkay went to walk into the house, and Laurence was left at loose ends once again.
He sat with Temeraire for a time, helping Temeraire choose the language for the recent pamphlet he was writing, and proof-reading Temeraire’s draft letters to this Benthem fellow, who Temeraire seemed awfully interested in and whom Laurence largely found impenetrably confusing. He found a great deal of Temeraire’s more philosophical correspondents completely opaque, but was made to feel a lot better about it because, as far as he could tell, none of them were smarter than Temeraire.
Temeraire seemed to sense his mood, and asked him a great number of questions, fretting over the placement of commas and the meanings of specific words. Laurence did his best to keep up, because he never wanted Temeraire to worry about him, and gamely offered opinions on whatever on earth a panopticon was.
“Do you think we should go flying tomorrow?” Temeraire asked, when they’d send the clerk away with the drafts. He nosed against Laurence’s back affectionately, and Laurence smiled, petting the scales between his eyes with the palm of his hand.
“I’d like that darling,” he said. “We’ve had fine weather, and if we leave early we might reach the sea and you could have a swim.”
Temeraire never turned down a chance to swim, and they made plans for the next day. Laurence left Temeraire to his lunch and took his own casually on the front steps of the house.
Maybe Tharkay was right. Maybe he was lonely. Roland had visited ostensibly to get Tharkay’s expert contributions on dragon diplomacy,cbut having her around had reminded Laurence of the benefits of good conversation with a friend who was not a dragon.
He ended up spending the afternoon surveying the estate, getting dragged into the manual labour of helping some tenant’s repair a fence, and then alone on a long walk.
And when he went back to his room to change before dinner, the thought was still on his mind. Maybe this exile to the English countryside didn’t have to be an exile. He smiled ruefully at himself in the mirror. He was so used to thinking of his life as one of exile. It felt difficult now to move beyond that way of thinking.
“I have been thinking about what you said,” he said to Tharkay at dinner, when they had moved beyond summarising their days and complimenting the food.
Tharkay looked up, raising an eyebrow. Laurence always found his eyes easy to trust.
“About speaking to some of my friends,” he added, when Tharkay didn’t speak more. “You may have been right, that I haven’t been as social as I could be.” He chuckled self-deprecatingly. “Perhaps it’s been difficult to move beyond the years of exile.”
Tharkay’s expression didn’t change. “I thought England was where your heart was, captain,” he said. Laurence shook his head.
“I’m not a Corpsman anymore, old friend,” he said. “I think Laurence is fine. Considering everything we’ve done together, you might stretch to Will, if your honour allows it.” He smiled, trying to share the joke, however weak with Tharkay. The corners of Tharkay’s mouth twitched in a small smile that warmed Laurence more deeply than any man’s laugh would have.
“Maybe I’ll save it for a special occasion,” Tharkay said dryly. “My home is open to any of your guests. Please don’t hesitate to extend the invitation.”
“Yes,” Laurence said, keeping his tone light. “But are you open to any of their dragons? Most of my friends are Corpsmen, you understand.”
Tharkay looked over his shoulder at Temeraire’s pavilion visible through the windowpane, and then back at Laurence. “I still believe it a great honour to have a Celestial a guest in my home,” he said. “All dragons are welcome here. I don’t think any grand home in England would be more welcoming, or more understanding of their needs.”
Laurence coloured a little as he realised how poor his assumption had been. There was hardly a more dragon-experienced man in Europe, let alone England, and Tharkay obviously took hospitality seriously, perhaps because he had not had a fixed abode for so many years. Of course he would not balk at hosting a guest’s dragon, because he did not consider a dragon a man’s pet or curiousity, easily set aside. He knew that dragons were intelligent, capable, independent.
“I was thinking of writing to Captain Granby and extending the invitation to stay for a short while,” he said. “Perhaps over the summer. Hosting Iskierka may prove a challenge.”
Tharkay merely sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. His expression was thoughtful, keen, the same expression Laurence had seen on his face when he explained particular customs, or explored a brilliant plan.
“There have been some interesting advancements in fire-proofing recently proposed to the Royal Society by a young man of Kolkata extraction,” he mused. “I found them promising, but wasn’t sure how they could be tested. This seems a fine opportunity. If you write to Captain Granby and I will write to Mr. Sarkar and we might kill two birds with one stone, if you will.”
Laurence blinked. He hadn’t even considered Iskierka visiting might be a benefit, and Tharkay had a solution ready to offer, as if he’d prepared for any eventuality.
“I’ll write to Granby tonight,” he said. Tharkay nodded, and then changed the subject to Temeraire’s correspondence, which carried them the rest of the evening before Tharkay retired for the evening and Laurence went to sit with Temeraire.
It was late when he went into the house, but he sat up by lamp light to write a note to Granby. He spent a great deal of time on it, only to come out with a short note that barely gave Tharkay’s address, extended the invitation to visit, explicitly including Iskierka. He didn’t put any ink to his feelings and uncertainty about the future, or Temeraire’s campaigning work. Granby was a born Corpsman. He probably couldn’t even imagine a life away from coverts.
Instead he signed the note with his best wishes for Iskierka’s health, asked Granby to pass on his hellos to former crew members and division mates, and signed it William Laurence, no captain.
Tharkay took Laurence’s post with him when he went into town the next day. Laurence had taken the opportunity to add a note to his man of business in London, and a note to his jeweler, with an order for a cuff set with pearls. He tried to counsel himself with financial good sense, but Roland had been right, in her way. He didn’t consider any expense spent on Temeraire a poor investment.
He spent the day aloft with Temeraire. They sighted a courier on the horizon, but it didn’t change course towards them and soon disappeared. When they reached the beach, Temeraire deposited him on the shore and dove into the water happily, scales glittering.
Later, Laurence took off his shirt and joined Temeraire in the water, splashing and diving and letting Temeraire buoy him up when he grew tired. He left his slight-damp coat off on the return and it made the journey bracing and enlivening.
He didn’t notice at first, but as Temeraire began his leisurely spiral down to the estate, he caught the shape of a dragon curled up in front of Tharkay’s home, which quickly focused into the familiar red horned body of Iskierka. She reared back onto her hind legs as she recognised Temeraire and crooned excitedly.
“Granby, come see!” she said. “Temeraire and Captain Laurence are back!”
Temeraire snorted, and said quietly, “I did not realise she would be here.”
Laurence patted his neck as Temeraire landed neatly, folding his wings in. “I didn’t know either, my dear. I only sent my letter to Granby this morning.”
Temeraire helped him dismount, and Laurence hastily pulled on his coat. His hair was still damp from the sea, and he probably hadn’t looked so disheveled since Australia. He was still trying to do the buttons up on his coat when Granby strode out of the house, one hand running through his hair.
“Laurence!” he said. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
They clasped hands, Granby’s grip firm and calloused.
“It’s good to see you friend,” Laurence said. “But I’m surprised. I only sent my letter this morning.”
Granby coloured a little, never able to hide his expression. Everything feeling he had always showed on his face.
“I think Tharkay caught the post courier just as he was taking off,” he said. “And Iskierka and I were in London, not Scotland. I was expecting we’d have to fly straight home, the London covert doesn’t have the space for my girl, so your letter was a piece of luck.”
“I’m glad I could be of help,” Laurence said. “Were you in London for new orders?”
“Of a sort,” Granby said. “Strict instructions I’m supposed to take some damn leave.”
Laurence laughed. Asking an aviator to take leave was a struggle under normal circumstances, and Iskierka’s general lack of discipline made it even harder for Granby.
“Well, Tharkay is a piece of luck for all aviators everywhere, I think,” Laurence said. “I’m happy to share the luck around.”
Granby looked over his shoulder at Iskierka, currently trying to ingratiate herself with Temeraire. “I’m going to need it, with this one,” he said. His gaze was fond, and Laurence could tell he couldn’t muster the level of annoyance that Iskierka probably deserved.
“What did she do?” Laurence asked, familiar with the aviator predisposition to underplay draconic pranks.
Granby ran another hand through his hair, freeing parts of his queue. “Nearly killed a Yellow Reaper in division exercises. The surgeon thinks they’ll recover, but their captain’s pretty ticked off at me. And the others don’t precisely want to try division maneuvers with a dragon that half-killed its division-mate,” he said.
Laurence raised an eyebrow. Iskierka was nipping at Temeraire’s heels, clearly trying, unsuccessfully, to goad him into playing.
“No, I can’t imagine it creates camaraderie,” Laurence said drily. Granby sighed.
“No one’s said it outright to me yet, but I think the leave is to buy time to figure out what to do with us,” he said, looking in Iskierka’s direction. Temeraire had pinned her and was pretending to ignore her, loudly observing the weather. “She’ll do what I ask if I talk to her beforehand, but whenever something happens suddenly, she follows her instincts. And her first instinct is usually to set something on fire.”
Laurence reached out to grip his shoulder. Granby had waited so long for a dragon of his own, was a first rate aviator, and, despite everything, loved Iskierka deeply. He didn’t deserve all the trouble that came from it.
“Tharkay said to me you can stay as long as you need,” he said, when Granby turned to look at him. “And his hospitality has no fault. Some shore leave will do the two of you some good.”
There was a loud thump as Iskierka escaped Temeraire’s hold, and then the shrill sound of her success.
“I beat you!” she crowed, dodging Temeraire’s annoyed swipe at her. It hurt Temeraire’s dignity to chase after her, and he immediately turned his nose up, trotting away pointedly.
“See if I let you inside my pavilion now,” he said, and curled himself under its eaves to visibly sulk. Iskierka didn’t have Temeraire’s regal bearing, but she curled herself up some distance away, looking the opposite way and putting her snout in the air. Laurence laughed under his breath, and Granby chuckled along.
“Come on old friend, has Tharkay offered you a room yet? I can show you around the place, if he isn’t available,” Laurence said, dropping his hand from Granby’s shoulder.
Granby nodded. “He told me he had some business this afternoon,” he said. “But he offered me a room across the hall from yours.” He still had his boyish smile, even after all this time, and grinned at Laurence. “I suppose you thought retirement would get you free of meddlesome lieutenants?”
“Any officer worth his stripes knows the value of a good lieutenant,” Laurence said. “Come, Iskierka will be fine here, I’ll show you the grounds.”
Granby traipsed happily through the woods with Laurence, sharing gossip on former crewmates and division members. Harcourt was on dragon-back again, child happily in tow, and most of those who had served on Temeraire had found berths on other dragons. There was a new clutch of Longwing eggs which every woman in the service was falling over themselves to get to. Granby was naturally gregarious, and had been living in coverts essentially since birth, so his contacts in the service were wide ranging and well-informed, and it took some time before he ran out of news.
Finally, he turned to Laurence, who had made appropriate noises through the great torrent of information, and raised his eyebrows. “Well,” he said. “How is retirement treating you? I thought you’d be married with a clutch of children by this point.”
Laurence snorted. “I think dragons have given you a poor understanding of how long children take to produce,” he said. Granby’s face coloured, and the sudden realisation of why else Granby might not know much about the production of children hit Laurence hard in the back of the head. He coughed, and continued on, trying to keep his voice level. “Besides, I don’t have marriage on my mind. I have no occupation, no fixed abode, I rely on the charity of my friends, and perhaps a woman willing to overlook my many deficits exists, but none that I know of who would be willing to play second fiddle to a dragon.”
Truth be told, Laurence hadn’t considered marriage in a long time. But he didn’t want to embarrass Granby, and pushed on with the conversation. He knew Granby was still wary, and perhaps a little embarrassed, that Laurence knew something of his nature, something Granby seemed to consider private information. Laurence wished Granby had trusted him, but the only way to demonstrate that now was to show that Laurence still considered him a firm friend. He turned his smile on Granby.
“I’m only a retired former captain past his prime now,” he said self-deprecatingly. “You’re a young up-and-coming captain of the country’s only fire-breather. I’m sure there are many young men happy to make your acquaintance.” As he said it, he realised that made it sound rather mercenary, and hastily attempted to correct. “That is to say, have you not considered a firm commitment? Perhaps Captain Little?”
Thankfully, Granby didn’t seem offended. “Augustine? No, we broke years ago. We’ve been friends for a long time, but we were always going to take separate orders. We’ve known men who had lovers on their crew and it always ended badly, so I tried to stay off Immortalis.”
Laurence didn’t know precisely what to say to that. He knew the idea of lovers among the crew was a concept the Longwing captains had to contend with, but it had never occurred to him. He grabbed onto the only conversational thread he could think of.
“Is his name truly Augustine?” he asked. Granby snorted.
“Don’t tell him I told you. I think even Immortalis calls him Little,” he said. He looked at Laurence thoughtfully. “Most people don’t like to, uh, bring it up,” he paused. “Being an invert.”
Laurence could feel his cheeks turning red. He wasn’t someone who naturally spoke his feelings aloud, but he was making an effort. “If you want me to not, I can stop,” he said.
Granby’s face was also nearly flaming red, but his jaw set stubbornly. Unlike Laurence, Granby never backed down from a difficult topic.
“Don’t stop on my account,” he said. “It’s refreshing.”
“Traditionally,” Laurence said, trying to keep his tone light. “When a Navy Captain’s officers are promoted, or become Captains themselves, he enquires whether the officer has considered marriage or needs any introduction to society. I put a few officers forward that way, before I met Temeraire. Although I don’t think I’d be much help in your circumstances.”
Laurence didn’t even have the faintest idea where one went to meet fellow inverts. He’d known men in the Navy who had, perhaps, preferred the company of other men, but he’d never quizzed them on it. Granby snorted.
“No, I think that’s accurate,” he said. “Although,” he added thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’d face the same obstacles you mention.”
Laurence looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“A...partner,” Granby said diplomatically. “Not wanting to play second fiddle to a dragon. It’s not as common among Aviators, but plenty of men of my persuasion have lovers who are married. I suppose some of the women do too, though we tend to move in different circles. It isn’t legal for us, and the pressure for marriage is great, so a great many of us marry and... find companionship elsewhere.”
Laurence felt his eyebrows climbing up his forehead apparently without his intervention.
“Surely that produces more grief then happiness,” he said, trying to be diplomatic.
Granby shrugged. They had made more progress through the wood, and the late afternoon sun was cutting through the trees, catching Granby’s hair, the epaulettes of his aviator’s coat, falling in yellow bands of light over his face.
“You’d be surprised,” he said. “Some of the wives know and are quite happy with the arrangement. A fair few of the men have equal affection for their lover as they do their wives, and feel as happy with a man as they do with a woman.”
Laurence stopped walking, and Granby took a few paces before he realised Laurence wasn’t following him and looked over his shoulder.
“Is that possible?” Laurence asked. “A preference for both?”
Granby’s brow was furrowed in confusion, and then smoothed out when he realised what Laurence was asking. “I should think so. Not for me, you understand, but Augustine says he could probably happily marry a woman, if he found the right one. Some say it’s partial inversion or something like that.” He shrugged. “I’m not really interested in the philosophy or what have you, but I’ve known plenty of men who seek out men and women much the same.”
“Well,” Laurence said, since he didn’t know what else to say and, he could admit to himself, was rather shocked. “More things in Heaven and Earth, I suppose.”
Granby shrugged. “As you say,” he said, and then obviously attempted to change the subject. “Has Temeraire had any luck with his dragon election campaign? I assume not since he’s not Prime Minister yet, but I wouldn’t put it past the government to keep that under their hat.”
“Er, no,” Laurence said, taking a couple steps to catch up and then keeping pace alongside Granby. “But apparently Parliament is considering an inquiry, and there may be a hearing in the high court, though the major impediment seems to be Temeraire not fitting in the building.”
That made Granby laugh, and they talked happily about Temeraire for the rest of the walk, which carried them all the way back to the house and to their rooms to change for dinner.
Granby dressed in traditional aviator wear - a coat with no neck cloth, his tanned neck and throat completely on display - and Laurence eschewed a neck cloth to avoid looking like a horrible prude at dinner. It was just the three of them, Tharkay joining them from his business, and on the lawn, Temeraire and Iskierka.
They exchanged normal pleasantries about the food and the wine, and Granby entertained by telling a long, active story about growing up in coverts. Tharkay didn’t laugh, but he did smile several times, and Laurence could tell he was amused.
Finally, they were just picking at the last shreds of the food, and Tharkay folded his hands in his lap.
“I received a reply from Mr. Sarkar, the man interested in fire-proofing techniques. He should be able to reach us within the next two days,” he said.
Granby raised an eyebrow. “This the man who wants Iskierka to try and set things on fire? She’ll be delighted.”
“Your chance to contribute to the progress of science,” Laurence said to Granby. “Maybe she’ll get something named after her.”
“If Mr. Sarkar is braving the flames, I rather think he should name it after himself,” Tharkay said, and Granby gestured his agreement.
“Naturally,” Laurence agreed. “But if he discovers enough, surely something can be left to Iskierka.”
“What can be left to me? Are you done eating yet Granby? I finished ages ago,” Iskierka interrupted, craning her neck so she could see through the open doors.
Granby quickly stood, giving both Laurence and Tharkay an apologetic look. “A captain never sleeps,” he said, and stepped through the open doors, both hands up to Iskierka. “Darling, I was just coming,” he said. “Laurence and Tharkay and I were talking.”
“But when you talk inside I can’t talk with you,” Iskierka said peevishly. Tharkay looked at Laurence sardonically.
“Was Temeraire also once this attached?” he asked. Laurence smiled, looking out the door to where Temeraire was watching Iskierka and Granby.
“He still is, in a way,” he said. “He’s maybe not as vocal as Iskierka, but Celestials are supposed to live a long time. Maybe he’s finally becoming wise.” He pushed himself to his feet. “I better go out and see him, or he’ll get jealous of Iskierka and we’ll never hear the end of it.”
Tharkay put a hand up. “I wouldn’t dream of keeping you.”
Laurence reached a hand out, like he could pull Tharkay up from his chair. “Won’t you join me?” he asked. “I know Temeraire loves your conversation.”
He dropped his hand when Tharkay stood, and then followed him out down the steps, to where Granby was talking to Iskierka, stroking her neck, and Temeraire was curled up at the edge of his pavilion.
Granby looked up, smiling broadly. “Iskierka is telling me I haven’t provided nearly enough entertainment,” he said. Temeraire huffed audibly.
“Some of us are not blood-thirsty animals, and are perfectly happy reading books or writing correspondence,” he said. Laurence went over to him.
“Come darling, what’s this?” he asked. Temeraire turned to nudge him with his nose affectionately.
“Iskierka wants Granby to demonstrate his fencing,” he said. “She is very prideful of the fighting he has been doing in Scotland.”
“I have been training in Scotland, not fighting,” Granby said. “But my fencing has improved. C’mon Laurence, what do you say to a bout? I can’t imagine you’ve been keeping fighting fit, maybe it’ll do you some good.”
Laurence laughed, and put his hands up. “Surely it’s an unfair match, an old retired man against an aviator in his prime,” he said. “Besides, I don’t have my rapier.”
Tharkay had settled on the steps to the house, and said, with drol amusement, “I can happily send a servant to fetch it from your room.”
“And you’re not that old,” Granby said. Temeraire nudged Laurence again.
“I wouldn’t want Iskierka to say she has the best captain,” he said, in what Temeraire surely thought was a whisper but was loud enough that Laurence saw Granby snickering in response.
“Alright, alright, I surrender,” Laurence said. “Tharkay, would you send someone for my sword?”
He saw Tharkay smile, and go into the house. Granby had his own sword in a bundle in Iskierka’s harness, and drew it.
“You’ve been practicing in Scotland?” Laurence asked, when Granby walked out to a flat bit of the lawn and made a few practice passes.
“We’ve been grounded for a month or so,” he said, his gaze flicking guiltily over to Iskieka. “It’s a good way to pass the time.”
To Laurence’s surprise, Tharkay returned alone, not with a servant, and carrying Laurence’s rapier himself, still wrapped in its protective travelling leather.
Tharkay held it out and Laurence’s fingers brushed his briefly as he took it.
“Thank you Tenzing,” he said. Tharkay raised a single eyebrow.
“What does the winner recieve?” he said.
“I’m not sure,” Laurence said. “I’m not a betting man. Are you wagering something Granby?”
Granby had set himself up a few paces away, his rapier held up. “I can still remember you implying aviators had no honour, but let’s say the honour of the Corps, shall we?”
Laurence snorted, and held his own sword up, Tharkay taking a step back to where Temeraire and Iskierka watched with interest.
“You’ll hold that against me for the rest of my life, won’t you?” he said. “Temeraire, you’ll have to tell us when to begin.”
“I don’t see why, since the French never announced they were beginning,” Temeraire said with a sniff.
“Darling,” Laurence said, and Temeraire relented.
“Alright. You may begin. I hope you win Laurence,” he said. Laurence tried not to let his amusement show. Granby was openly smiling, hardly giving the fight some dignity, but then again, two grown men crossing swords for the amusement of their dragons was not particularly dignified to begin with.
Granby lunged, and Laurence parried him, keeping his feet moving. He hadn’t had a strict aviator’s dual in quite some time, and Granby was more recently practiced. Laurence made a few exploratory passes, letting Granby parry him away.
“This is not very interesting yet,” Iskierka said audibly, and Temeraire shushed her. They came in close enough, swords meeting, that Laurence could see Granby smile in response.
“Maybe you are old, getting slow eh?” Granby said playfully, and then disengaged, Laurence’s riposte sliding past him. Laurence didn’t try to taunt back, focusing on keeping his breath. They tested each other a little more, just passes back and forth, no contact, and then Granby clearly decided he wanted Iskierka to think it was interesting, and lunged more forcibly, bearing down with his weight when their swords met.
“Yes Granby!” Iskierka cheered. Laurence grunted, breathing hard, feeling his hold buckling under the pressure. Their eyes didn’t meet, both of them focused on their swords. This was only a play fight but both of them had fought for their lives, or more accurately, for the lives of their dragons, before. Sword-fighting on dragonback was not honourable or dignified, because both combatants knew they were fighting to protect the greatest love of their life.
Laurence began the disengagement, knowing Granby had the upper-hand for a split second, and then used the momentum, Granby surging forward, to hook his foot around Granby’s ankle and bring them both crashing onto the grass.
“Oof,” Granby grunted loudly, both of them trying to keep from spearing the other on their sword. Laurence managed to pull himself free, but then Granby grabbed him and rolled, a forearm pressed over Laurence’s chest, and then they were just wrestling, swords forgotten on the grass, grappling with each other, half laughing, half breathless.
“Not very - oof - honourable, Lieutenant,” Laurence said, grunting when Granby put an elbow in his stomach.
“I’m a Captain now,” Granby managed, as they rolled again.
“This seems rather silly,” Laurence heard Temeraire say, and Tharkay said something unintelligible in reply, because Granby had kneed him in the thigh, and pinned him against the lawn with the weight of his whole body.
Granby grinned at him wildly, shaking some of his loose hair out of his face. He was flushed, his cheeks warm and his eyes bright, and a shiver ran up Laurence’s spine, a sensation he’d experienced before but had never had a clear reason for. Granby licked his lips, and Laurence felt some clear answers drop clearly into his mind. Granby was handsome, and his body was pressed against Laurence’s.
Laurence swallowed, his mouth very suddenly dry. Granby’s thighs worked around his legs, the muscles visible through his breeches. Laurence had instinctively put his hands up, holding Granby away from him, one of his hands pressing against the flat of Granby’s stomach, another around the flexing muscle of his forearm. He felt like his palms were warm, as if he was too close to Iskierka’s flame.
“I believe I have the upper-hand, Captain Laurence,” Granby said, settling back on Laurence’s legs. “Do you concede?”
“You have disarmed me,” Laurence said, not removing his hands. Granby laughed, his flushed face bright with victory.
“Should have held onto your sword,” he shot back. In a sudden absence, he scrambled off Laurence and leaned down to offer Laurence his hand. It took Laurence a moment to recover, but then he put his hand in Granby’s calloused one and was pulled to his feet. Granby gripped his hand once, and then let it drop.
“You’ve let yourself get rusty,” he said playfully. Laurence managed to put a smile on his face, despite the waves of emotion breaking over him.
“Iskierka will be proud of you,” he replied. Granby’s smile, if possible, got even wider, and he turned over his shoulder to direct it to Iskierka.
“What do you think of that darling?” he crowed, opening his arms to carefully embrace her horned head as she nuzzled him. “Entertaining enough?”
“I do like it when you win,” Iskierka said smugly. Temeraire huffed.
“Your captain would not have won if he had not cheated,” he said, craning his neck so he could press his nose against Laurence’s side. “My captain does not cheat.”
Laurence petted Temeraire’s snout gently. Temeraire had learned, over the years, that it was not always possible to win, but his pride in Laurence came from a place of love and he liked to see him victorious.
“That is not quite true darling, but I am grateful for your faith in me,” he said. “Well done Granby.”
Granby had crossed the lawn to pick up both of their swords, and held Laurence’s out to him.
“Maybe I can convince you to practice with me,” he said. Laurence took the sword, and went to recover its wrapping from Tharkay.
“I’m retired now,” he said, hoping he kept the bitterness out of his voice. “Perhaps I can leave being fighting-fit to those actually fighting.”
Iskierka lay down, pillowing her great horned head on her front paws. “There is no one to fight anymore,” she said, with almost comical despondence. “Granby says we cannot fight the French anymore, for they are our friends now.”
Laurence tried to keep his amusement off his face.
“I am sure there will be much work for the Corps, even without an ongoing war,” he said. “And many opportunities for honour and glory.”
“I hope so,” Iskierka said. Granby reached over to pet her neck affectionately.
“Don’t be down, darling,” he said. “Mr. Tharkay has arranged for you to test setting things on fire while we’re here.”
Iskierka immediately perked up. “Oh, that will be lovely,” she said, and Laurence had to put a hand over his mouth to hide his brief laugh. He leaned back against Temeraire, taking comfort in his presence, and sighed. He was blessed with good friends and a better dragon. Worrying was merely borrowing trouble, and anything he felt, any challenge he faced because of that, he and Temeraire could face together.
&&&
The next day brought bright, sunny weather, and Laurence took a long moment of selfish self-indulgence to lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, thinking about the previous evening. Living here, in Tharkay’s house, was likely Laurence’s first true period of honest relaxation and idleness, and he was realising that not constantly fearing for one’s life gave one’s mind a great deal of space to consider other things. Such as the feeling of Granby’s body over his, the flex in his thigh muscles, his body under Laurence’s hands.
Laurence did his best to ignore his body’s reaction to the direction of his thoughts, and eventually forced himself out of bed and down to Temeraire’s side, trying to find some distraction. Temeraire was fretful and a little anxious, likely because of Iskierka’s continued nagging, and Laurence read to him from his old, comforting favorite, principia mathematica. Temeraire liked to work through the proofs in the sand table as Laurence read, and he did his best to follow along. He’d long ago come to terms with the idea that his dragon was smarter than he was, and considered it a mark of good character that he encouraged it. A good soldier, or seaman, knew the capabilities of those around him.
Iskierka was not easily kept on the ground, and Granby took her for a long flight before lunch, and then returned flushed from exertion. Laurence felt himself blush and tried to focus more on reading aloud, not allowing his mind to wander from the familiar words.
For all his efforts, he kept trailing off and Temeraire kept having to nudge him alert, to pick up the thread of a proof when he had dropped it. With one ear, he listened to Granby talking to Iskierka, beseeching her in low tones to listen to Tharkay’s requests and to be gentle to Mr. Sarkar, who was arriving the next day. Eventually, Laurence had to give up reading and closed the book when he reached the end of a proof.
“I’m sorry darling, I’m all six and sevens,” he said.
Temeraire looked at him nervously. “You aren’t ill, are you?” he asked. “You’re very red.”
Laurence swallowed, and tried not to laugh hysterically. Temeraire had a supernatural way of ferreting out Laurence’s thoughts practically as he thought them, and a significant part of him wanted at least a moment of interior privacy. “It’s nothing, my dear. I just didn’t sleep well. I’ll go for a walk and I’ll be right as rain,” he said.
“Alright,” Temeraire said, settling down. “But if you’re not better tomorrow I’ll tell Tharkay to send for the doctor.”
Laurence patted Temeraire’s side. “Of course, my dear,” he said.
He was nearly at the edge of the woods when he heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Granby catching up with him.
“Mind if I join?” he called, when he was a few paces away, a hand up. “Iskierka’s settled in and there’s only so many times a man can explain that fire is dangerous before he needs a break.”
Laurence swallowed what felt close to a scream. Could a man not find some peace and quiet in his retirement? He nodded, and smiled, when Granby fully caught up to him.
“I’m afraid I won’t be fine company, I didn’t sleep well,” he said. Granby dismissed this with a wave.
“I don’t need conversation,” he said, and fell into step with Laurence.
They walked in companionable silence for a little while, until they had to pause to let Laurence work a stone out of his shoe, and Granby finally spoke.
“I’ll admit I have a question,” he said, while Laurence emptied his boot.
“Hmm?” Laurence said, hoping to disguise the brief current of fear that went through him. He was sure Granby had not noticed his blushes or shivers during the sword fight, but he had to admit to himself that he was not as practiced in the reading of men. Perhaps Granby was more insightful as a consequence of the clandestine nature of his previous relationships? Laurence felt like he was an inexperienced novice at sea again, learning to walk with the pitch of the waves and terrified that someone would discover he was not all he pretended to be.
“Are you truly intending to stay retired?” Granby asked.
Laurence tried not to visibly sigh in relief. “Temeraire has occupations enough to satisfy me,” he said. unbending from righting his boot. “And my career with the Admiralty is concluded.”
Granby hummed, in a tone that implied he did not fully agree. “Tharkay has a nice place, I have to admit, but you can’t be intending to stay here forever?” he said.
“I suppose that rather depends on Tharkay’s preference, not mine,” Laurence said. Granby made a frustrated noise and turned on him, his jaw working.
“Damn this,” he said. “Will, can I be frank?”
Laurence had never known Granby not to be frank, or to ask permission before being so. He stopped in his tracks and looked at him.
“Go ahead,” he said eventually.
“We’re worried about you,” Granby said firmly. “Hiding away on Tharkay’s estate, not seeing anyone, just accepting when the Admiralty gave you your discharge. It’s not like you.”
“We?” Laurence asked.
“Your friends,” Granby said, raising a hand in frustration. “Me, Roland, Harcourt. Temeraire’s crew.”
“Temeraire doesn’t have a crew.”
“Fine, Temeraire’s former crew,” Granby said. “You have friends in England, Laurence. You aren’t in exile.”
“I didn’t think I was,” Laurence said.
“You’ve been Tharkay’s guest for half the year, Laurence,” Granby said. “And you wrote to me for the first time yesterday.”
Laurence felt his face colour. Maybe it was true he hadn’t kept up with his correspondence like he should have, but that was hardly cause for concern. Or this earnest intervention Granby was apparently in the middle of.
“I didn’t want to trouble you,” he said.
“Laurence, I went to South America for you! I’ve flown half the known world! Getting your letters isn’t trouble,” Granby said. Laurence had obviously pricked his temper.
“You didn’t do all that for me,” Laurence said stiffly, looking away. His life before Temeraire had been one of service, to the Navy, to his men, to the crown. Becoming an aviator had complicated that, to say the least, but he could not stomach the idea that affection to one man was a greater purpose than the benefit of many.
Granby put his hand on Laurence’s shoulder, and pulled him around. Laurence had nowhere to look but Granby’s face.
“Laurence - damnit, Will - you know I did,” he said. His hand on Laurence’s shoulder was warm, holding the curve of his shoulder tightly. “Don’t retreat from it.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Laurence said, because he didn’t. He wouldn’t importune Granby with urges he could well resist. It was his responsibility to hold himself back from something Granby would not wish.
Granby made a frustrated noise, and shook Laurence’s shoulder gently. “I have never known you to be a deliberately stupid man,” he said, and then, before Laurence could protest, brought himself closer and pressed his mouth against Laurence’s in a firm, unmistakeable kiss.
Granby’s lips were dry, chapped at the edges by a life at high altitude, but his kiss was soft, gentle pressure against Laurence’s mouth. He held it for a moment, his hand still holding Laurence’s shoulder, and then pulled back, his expression serious.
“You were the best captain any man could have wished for,” he said, quietly because their faces were so close together. Laurence could feel the air disturbed between them by his words. “But I am not your friend because you are a fine captain or a good aviator.”
“A friend?” Laurence asked, wetting his lips, unable to look away from Granby’s eyes.
Granby smiled. “I wouldn’t presume to anything else,” he said, and it was almost shy. Laurence looked at his mouth, the softness at the centre of it.
“And if I gave you leave to presume?” he asked. He could feel the hot blush of his face. He suspected his whole body was red with embarrassment, nervousness, the sick flush of fear.
Granby’s hand on his shoulder tightened briefly. Laurence looked only at his mouth.
“Sometimes,” Granby said, and then swallowed. “Men like me. We say ‘a particular friend’ if we don’t wish to put too fine a point on it.”
The only sound around them was the woods, the breeze moving through the trees.
“And men who are as comfortable with women as with men?” Laurence asked, finally meeting Granby’s eyes. He was smiling.
“They say the same,” Granby said.
This time it was Laurence who moved first, but Granby caught his meaning and they kissed again. Granby’s free hand went to Laurence’s other shoulder, holding onto him tightly, and Laurence gasped when Granby opened his mouth and Laurence tasted the inside of him, felt the slide of his tongue against his own. It was like the first flight on dragonback, like seeing the ground falling away and knowing you no longer needed it, that you were to never again be a creature of the ground.
&&&
That evening, after a stilted, nervous dinner, Laurence paced back and forth in front of his door, his mind racing. What was the protocol in this situation? Should he go to Granby’s room? Did he wait for a sign from Granby? Had Granby given him a sign that he, in his ignorance, had missed? He turned on his heel and looked at the door, as if staring could manifest answers to his questions.
Someone knocked on the door, and Laurence jumped. His face went hot as he blushed deeply. Why was he blushing? No one could see him. The knock came again, this time more tentative, and Laurence jumped forward to open it, revealing Granby in his shirt sleeves.
“Hello,” Laurence said abruptly, his face flaming. Granby smiled.
“Hello,” he said. “I thought I’d better come to you.”
“Uh, would you like to come in?” Laurence asked. He opened the door further, and when Granby passed him, his shoulder brushed against Laurence’s chest, enough to send a shiver over the surface of his skin. He had never felt like this before, as if his skin was merely a thin film over a roiling storm.
Granby sat on his bed and leaned back, his shoulders standing out as he braced himself on his hands.
“It might be easier if you closed the door,” he said gently. Laurence was reminded of how Granby had helped him in his first months as an aviator. They hadn’t been friends. Granby hadn’t even liked him. But he had extended Laurence the charity of his knowledge and competence. He was doing the same now, in a different way.
Laurence closed the door, but didn’t take his hand off the handle.
“I haven’t the slightest idea what I’m doing,” he admitted. “I keep thinking I’ll say the wrong thing and it’ll blow up in my face, like one of those Chinese rockets.”
“Laurence,” Granby said, and then corrected. “Will. I know this may not not be a circumstance you’ve experienced before, but, in my circles, it’s not uncommon for two friends to pursue a liaison and part as friends. I’ve suffered worse than some kisses and an enjoyable evening.”
“I was hoping it might not be something you suffer through,” Will said self-deprecatingly, crossing the room. Granby’s shirt has an open neck, and Will could see the faintest shadow of his chest hair. When he was within reach, Granby reached out to him and took his hand, his thumb pressing firmly into the centre of Laurence’s palm.
“I don’t doubt you’ll rise to the challenge,” he said, and then smiled. “It’s like flying. Once you try it, you’re never the same.”
Laurence snorted. “Maybe I’ll be suffering your sense of humour,” he said, and when Granby pulled on his hand, he let himself be drawn closer, until he almost had no choice but to bed and kiss Granby’s mouth, still open in laughter. Laurence had never thought of romance, or even of physical intimacy, as something to laugh about it. It had only ever been a painful choice, an excruciating failing. He’d never had what Granby referred to - a liaison among friends.
As they pulled apart, Granby exhaled and Laurence felt his body react as if it wasn’t his own. One breath and he felt like he was on fire.
“Granby,” he said, and then paused as Granby reached up to cup his jaw, holding him in place.
“Maybe you should call me John,” he said, and pulled Laurence in again.
Granby kissed him, holding his face gently, letting Laurence push into the kiss, growing bolder by the minute. Granby slowly fell back, leaning further and further back on the bed until he was on his elbows and Laurence had one knee up on the bed over him, their bodies brushing against each other.
“John, I need you to lead,” Laurence said, surprised at how breathless he sounded. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Granby curled up into him, pressing his face against Laurence’s chest and letting out a frustrated groan. “I don’t wish to rush you,” he said, flopping backwards, catching himself on his elbows. “If all you want is to kiss here, nothing more, I’ll be content.”
“I-,” Laurence said, looking down at Granby’s face. He was flushed, his cheeks pink and eyes bright, and, as Laurence watched him, his mouth opened slightly, his tongue wetting his lips. Granby was offering him a path back from the cliff edge, a dignified retreat from a leap into the unknown. Laurence swallowed. He didn’t want to balk, not now. He wanted to run at the drop, knowing it was coming. Now was no time to turn away. “We can rush,” he said, and then more certain. “I want to rush.”
“Oh thank god,” Granby said, with real feeling. His hands immediately went to the fall of Laurence’s trousers, and Laurence jerked in surprise, losing his balance and his arm going out from under him, collapsing on top of Granby, both of them grunting as the air was knocked from their bodies. Granby’s hands didn’t slow down, releasing the ties of Laurence’s trousers and then his hand, warm and calloused, palmed the length of his prick, sliding and then gripping, so intense and jolting Laurence had to close his eyes and breathe carefully.
Granby kissed him then, and carefully manhandled him onto his back, their mouths sliding together clumsily. Every kiss felt intense, spurring something previously unknown deep inside Laurence’s body. He didn’t want them to stop. They were pressed so close together, Granby’s shirt riding up his chest, and Laurence took the chance to feel his bare skin, the muscles of his stomach that led down to his hips, and the obvious shape of his prick in his trousers. Even just the glancing touch of his hand made Granby gasp, and grip Laurence’s cock more tightly, stroking him again and again. The sensation was overpowering, pulling him towards his peak, but he didn’t want this to end without having touched Granby properly, without having reciprocated.
The fall of Granby’s trousers took a moment of embarrassed fumbling, but Granby didn’t intervene, he seemed just as affected by Laurence’s unsure grasp as Laurence was by Granby’s confident hands and warm, open kisses.
“Ah, oh god, Laurence, Will,” he said, as Laurence carefully, painfully aware this was a new first in his life, stroked the hot, soft skin of Granby’s prick. All of Laurence’s focus was on Granby, the way he groaned as Laurence gripped him tighter, and then he choked, his prick jerking in Laurence’s hand, his spend coating Laurence’s fingers and staining both of their trousers. “Ah, sorry, fuck,” Granby said, still catching his breath, shakily braced on one arm. “Give me a moment.”
Apparently it was just a moment. Granby didn’t even give him time to speak, just stroked Laurence once firmly, from the root to the tip of his cock, and then bent over, pushing his shirt up, and took the head of his prick into his soft, wet mouth.
“Ah!” Laurence jerked all over, part in surprise, part in true reaction. It felt like nothing he’d experienced before, the warmth of Granby’s mouth, the tight sucking pull of his lips, and when Granby stroked him again he couldn’t hold back any longer. His body took him tumbling over the edge, his prick spending in Granby’s mouth.
After a moment, Granby sat back, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and swallowed.
Laurence stared at him. He felt like he’d been hit hard in the head. Granby winked at him, and then laughed.
“Not bad?” he asked, a little smugly, and then Laurence laughed too.
“John, I-,” he said, and Granby rolled over to lay down next to him, as casual as if they were lounging at a covert. Laurence could see his softening cock at the opening of his trousers, and the stains of his spend.
“Not everything a friend does for you is a hardship, Will,” Granby said.
“I just - there’s no obligation, I don’t want you to feel-,” Laurence started, and then Granby cut him off with a wave.
“Out of anyone, I can understand that,” he said, with a fond smile, touching Laurence’s shoulder with his own. “A captain’s commitment is always to his dragon. I’m not quitting the Corps.” He casually tucked himself away, apparently without embarrassment. “I’d like to think, after everything, we could share this and stay friends.”
Laurence swallowed. “You are always my friend, John,” he said. Granby smiled at him.
“Good then, we can make some more mess later” he said, and then laughed when Laurence’s face flamed bright red.
&&&
Granby slipped out of Laurence’s bed later than evening, and then the house was all abuzz the next morning with Mr. Sarkar’s arrival, and his overburdened carriage of experimental fireproofing materials. Iskierka was ecstatic over this sudden increase in attention she was paid, and found Mr. Sarkar’s exclamations over her powers of fire production more flattering than any debutante had ever enjoyed a compliment to her dress.
Mr. Sarkar was a tall, slim man with close-cropped hair and a large waxed jacket, more like a groundskeeper than a man of science. At rest, his face was grim, but when he realised Iskierka could talk he became animated and laid out all his various cloths and treatments on the lawn, explaining each in turn. Granby attended, as a sort of translator between Mr. Sarkar’s technical questions about temperature and intensity and Iskierka’s instinctual understanding of all things flame.
Even Temeraire could not contain his interest, and sat with Iskierka, asking questions and interrupting Mr. Sarkar with his thoughts. Laurence watched this with some amusement from Temeraire’s pavilion, making an attempt on a letter to Harcourt. Granby had been right. He had been avoiding letters to his friends, and he was trying to rectify the mistake.
“Mr. Sarkar seems to be enjoying himself,” Tharkay said, from behind him, and when Laurence looked over his shoulder, Tharkay was leaning against one of the pillars of the pavilion, his hands behind his back.
Laurence smiled, and turned to give Tharkay his full attention. He felt in better spirits than he had felt in weeks, perhaps longer. Tharkay had been right, it had done him good to have Granby visit. He blushed slightly, when he realised Tharkay probably hadn’t understood in what way he was right.
“I don’t think he’s ever had a more willing participant in his experiments,” he said. On the lawn, Mr. Sarkar clapped when Iskierka produced a single finger of flame. Tharkay chuckled.
“I suppose one must respect his enthusiasm,” he said, and crossed to sit next to Laurence, letting his legs hang down over the side of the raised platform.
“Fire-proofing must be a lonely occupation,” Laurence said, raising his eyebrows. “I can’t imagine he convinces many others to test out his materials, but Iskierka’s ecstatic.”
“As long as she’s ecstatic at the fire-proofing and not my lawn,” Tharkay said dryly. Laurence waved a hand, falsely dismissive.
“You can afford it,” he said. Tharkay snorted, which Laurence took as agreement.
For a long moment, they sat in companionable silence, watching Iskierka and Granby enthusiastically set about the experiments, with Temeraire’s officious input.
“You are glad, to have Granby visit,” Tharkay said, after some time. Laurence supposed he meant it as a kind of question, even if it hadn’t been phrased that way.
“I am,” he said. “I’m grateful for your suggestion. It was well meant and, as ever, you understood the way of things long before I caught up with you. John all but told me I was being a fool and should stop shutting my friends out. Thank you.”
Tharkay inclined his head, but said nothing. Laurence leaned back against the pavilion’s pillar, letting his head fall back. He was used to Tharkay’s quiet, the way he chose each word deliberately. Very different from Granby, who felt his way through the world.
“I’m glad I could be of assistance,” Tharkay said smoothly. Laurence shook his head. Tharkay never let anything show. Laurence had just admitted his own wrong, and thanked Tharkay for his intervention, and he wasn’t crowing or smug, merely coolly pleased. Laurence had seen Tharkay after great victories and difficult defeats, and he was always able to adapt easily and quickly, letting nothing show.
Before, perhaps, Laurence would have found that frustrating. But now he knew that it was just Tharkay’s nature, his preference to hold his thoughts and affections close, like a gamester with his cards. In many ways Laurence found it easier than with others. When Tharkay did express himself, openly and clearly, it was rare and precious, and Laurence held it closely to heart. Upon reflection, his most powerful memories were usually focused on Temeraire or Tharkay. He still remembered the perfect moment of clarity when he had seen Tharkay’s face after his rescue, the way it had cut through the thick layer of pain and suffering and misery, like a single candle illuminating darkness.
Laurence looked at Tharkay, his cool exterior, knowing the passion and loyalty and kindness that hid underneath it. No, nothing like Granby, who let his strength of feeling rest easily on the surface of his skin, but more similar than at first glance. Laurence was lucky in his friends.
“You’re always of help to me Tenzing,” he said. “I am grateful for everything you have done for me. I hope you understand that.”
Tharkay’s nose flared, and his jaw visibly clenched, but he didn’t respond. Laurence didn’t push him further. It seemed impolite to force him to speech. Eventually, Tharkay stood and took his leave with a terse goodbye. He paused, for a second, with his hand on Laurence’s shoulder, but then strode up to the house and Laurence didn’t call after him. Not long after, Granby came over, laughing about Iskierka nearly setting a carriage on fire, and Laurence was distracted.
&&&
Mr. Sarkar soon joined them in familiar informality at dinner. He would often use the evening meal to report on the success of his experiments, with Granby’s amused narration about Iskierka’s antics. Whereas Laurence had previously found that days passed in a beige milieu, now each day felt bright and his interest in everything, from Temeraire’s campaigns to Tharkay’s growing library, returned. His awareness of his own self, especially his body, returned in a powerful rush, as if arousal was what opened the floodgates to hunger, tiredness, the pleasant sensation of having worked hard, a hundred other things that Laurence had forgotten he could feel.
In the evening, he and Granby would sit with Temeraire and Iskierka, reading or telling stories, and sometimes, when they walked back to the house, Granby would kiss him in the darkness, the house lit up like a beacon.
After a week of Mr. Sarkar’s experiments, Granby begged Iskierka off for a day, and they went flying to the coast together, no harnesses or crew, just themselves tied to their dragon’s neck chains, trusting they would not fall. Iskierka and Temeraire bathed in the sea, hunting fish and sunning themselves on the rock shore, and Granby and Laurence explored the coastline.
They found a small cave set into the cliff face, shadowed but dry, and Laurence surprised himself by reeling Granby in for a stolen kiss, his lips warm despite the cool air of the cave. So far, Granby had initiated each of their physical intimacies. It was John that always came to Laurence’s rooms, John that always reached out for him when they could catch a private moment. He didn’t seem to mind, but when they pulled apart in the cave, Laurence could see Granby’s pleased expression, even in the low light.
“Temeraire will wonder where we are,” he said, but didn’t move, only leaned back against the cave wall, looking at Granby.
Granby grinned. “Iskierka can keep him busy,” he said, and moved in closer. His body was lithe but strong, the sort of strength aviators prized, the well-muscled shoulders and arms. Laurence let his hands rest on Granby’s arms, feeling the firmness himself, as Granby leaned in, bracing himself against the cave wall.
They may have lost track of the time, Laurence only able to think of the way kissing Granby made him feel, the sensation like his skin was too light, as if he was full of light or air. They were both startled when the light at the cave mouth suddenly disappeared, and Temeraire’s huge face could be seen at the opening.
“Hello, Laurence have you gotten lost?” he called out anxiously. Laurence pulled away from kissing Granby, both of them gasping. He was flushed and, awkwardly, aroused, and had to scramble to put himself in view of the cave mouth.
“I’m here darling, Granby and I were just exploring,” he said, trying to fix his shirt, which was all out of sorts. Behind him, he heard Granby snicker.
“You were in there for some time,” Temeraire said doubtfully. Laurence straightened his cuffs, and stumbled into the sun, blinking in the light.
“It was a very interesting cave,” he said, hoping Temeraire didn’t ask about his red face or disordered clothing.
“It’s only that it was getting late and I thought we better return to the house. Tharkay will be wondering where we are,” Temeraire said. Iskierka immediately objected to leaving, as she was having a good time largely left to her own devices on the beach, but Granby and Laurence agreed that the sun was starting to dip low in the sky and they should fly home. Laurence was grateful for the opportunity to cover up the state of his clothes by blaming it on flying.
Granby was one fine form at dinner that evening, regaling Mr. Sarkar with stories of being an aviator, neatly editing out the parts of the war that had been horrifying or unpleasant or was still an Official Secret. Laurence felt like he leaned towards Granby’s smile the whole evening, like a flower turning towards the sun. He made eye contact with Tharkay, over the wine at the end of the evening, and could only smile ruefully, as Granby laughed throatily. He was sure his feeling was obvious, and surely a man as subtle as Tenzing would have noticed. Tharkay nodded once, a clear signal from him, and Laurence dipped his gaze, privately pleased. From Tharkay, that was as good an endorsement as he was likely to recieve.
&&&
It was a delightful reprieve. Laurence knew it could not last, and after two weeks of heady indulgence, like a magicked version of shore-leave, Granby sat next to him in Temeraire’s pavilion and handed him the letter he’d been reading. It had the Admiralty’s seal, and Captain Little’s signature.
“New orders,” Granby said, with a bit of a sigh. On the lawn, Iskierka was blowing fire at sheet Mr. Sarkar had hung from a wooden pole and treated with more of his magic formula. The flames licked at it, but it failed to catch fire, and Iskierka made a disappointed grumbling sound. Laurence let his eyes skim the orders. Little had been deputised to oversee re-assignment of dragon’s in the South East, and Roland had approved his request to send Iskierka to the channel covert, less than a day’s ride and only a few hours by dragon to London.
“You’ll be taking your leave soon then, I expect,” Laurence said, after a moment, handing the orders back. He tried not to let his disappointment show on his face. John was still an aviator. He had his orders.
Granby leaned over to bump their shoulders together. “Don’t sound so grim. You can always come visit. The covert’s only a few hours as the dragon flies,” he said.
“I suppose you’re right,” Laurence said. “I’ve been letting myself be a man of leisure. I really should be setting myself to find some sort of occupation. I can’t live on Tharkay’s largesse forever.”
Granby’s face implied he didn’t believe him. “I wouldn’t say that,” he said. “I don’t think it’s a trouble to him.”
Laurence frowned. “Tharkay’s always been a private man,” he said slowly, unsure how to explain his sure conclusions to Granby. “I’m sure he would be glad to have his lawn and privacy returned to him.”
Granby looked doubtful, but Laurence merely looked back out into the lawn, where Iskierka had finally succeeded in setting the sheet aflame and Mr. Sarkar was using a bucket on a long pole to douse it in water.
“Lord, I better go deal with that,” Granby said, getting to his feet. He looked down at Laurence, his expression hidden in shadow. “Can I call on you tonight?”
Laurence flushed. He doubted he would ever master the art of talking about these matters without embarrassing himself. He nodded, not sure what else to say, and Granby smiled at him, a shared joke tucked into the corners of his mouth, and bounded down the pavilion steps, already shouting at Iskierka.
Granby announced his new orders at dinner that evening, to Mr. Sarkar’s audible disappointment. Tharkay seemed not to be surprised at all, and merely thanked Granby for his visit, and Iskierka’s contribution to Mr. Sarkar’s experiments.
Over the wine, Laurence could feel Tharkay’s gaze on him, as if he was being watched for something, Laurence knew not what.
Mr. Sarkar retired first, and Granby went with him, begging that he would have an early morning and thanking Tharkay again for his hospitality. Laurence, trying not to blush, stayed at the table, Tharkay watching them both with his dark eyes.
“I am sorry Captain Granby will be leaving us,” Tharkay said, sipping his wine. Laurence tried to hide behind his own glass.
“It was bound to happen eventually,” he said. “It’s been a pleasure to have him visiting.”
“I’m sure,” Tharkay said, with a gentle incline of his head. Laurence coloured, catching the implication. He hadn’t fooled himself that anything happening within Tharkay’s house could escape his keen gaze, but he had hoped they’d been discreet, at the very least. “I shan’t keep you,” Tharkay said eventually, after a moment of silence. He put his wine glass down on the table, and raised his eyebrows. “Captain Granby will likely appreciate the help packing for the journey.”
“Uh, yes,” Laurence said, his face growing warmer, and then stood. “Goodnight Tenzing,” he said. Tharkay rested his hand on the table, each movement perfectly controlled, his jaw held tightly.
“Goodnight Laurence,” he said, and then Laurence lost his nerve and left the room, catching a final glimpse of Tharkay alone at the table, as the door closed behind him.
He hoped his blush went down a little before he knocked on Granby’s door, but it came rushing back when Granby opened the door with his shirt off, a big smile on his face.
“What took you so long?” he asked, as Laurence stepped in quickly and closed the door behind him.
“John, what if someone else had knocked on the door?” he asked, even as he let Granby get in close and untuck his shirt. Granby only laughed.
“Who else could it have been?” he asked, pushing Laurence up against the door. “Am I supposed to be getting other gentlemen callers?”
Laurence couldn’t help but smile. “No,” he said. “I just thought-”
“I don’t know what you thought,” Granby said, sliding his hand against Laurence’s bare stomach. “But I thought tonight’s my last night here, and we could say goodbye properly.”
Laurence shivered a little as Granby pulled them more closely together, their hips fitting against each other. “What did you have in mind?” he asked. Granby’s smile turned into a grin.
“How do you feel about buggery?” he asked.
John had to talk Laurence through it, because, regardless of how Laurence felt about it, this was new territory for him. John could be a good teacher, when he wanted to be, and Laurence was very motivated to learn, not least because every time John touched him, he felt like he’d been doused in Iskierka’s flames. He’d never in his life been physically intimate with a single person for long enough to begin to understand the habits of their body, and he’d had the vague assumption that the heat, the desire, faded with time. He’d been wrong. Even sitting next to John on the bed, practically pulling off their own breeches, was unexpectedly but powerfully attractive.
“John-,” he said, as John laid back on the bed, completely naked, stretching out to grab oil off his bedside table.
“You can watch me,” John said, pulling one knee up. His cock was hard up against his stomach, but he didn’t stroke himself, instead reaching around with two oiled fingers and sinking them slowly into his arsehole. Laurence swallowed, his mouth feeling dry. John turned his head to smile in Laurence’s direction, his eyes slightly glazed. “It’s - ah - better if I do this part myself.”
Laurence wasn’t even touching Joh anywhere, and he still felt as if his skin was too tight, as if the heat he felt couldn’t be contained. John’s fingers twisted, and Laurence watched as he bit his lip, holding in a muffled gasp.
Carefully, feeling like he was approaching something astounding, Laurence pulled himself alongside Granby, until he could bring their mouths together, feel Granby panting against his lips. His cock dragged against Granby’s thigh, a maddening tease. All his life his body had been a tool, a practical instrument, and it was only in the last weeks he had begun to think of it as a vessel for pleasure. Granby groaned into their kiss, and then shifted away, removing his fingers and pulling Laurence over him.
“Here, I’m ready,” he said, guiding Laurence into position. He was flushed all the way up his chest, and breathing hard, and Laurence felt intoxicated, hypnotised, watching his chest rise and fall. John grinned back at him. “Push harder than you think, I’ll be fine,” he said, and pulled encouragingly at Laurence’s arm. Laurence blushed even harder, but obliged, and then made a very undignified sound when he slid home, overcome at the sensation of John tight around him.
“God,” Laurence said tightly, his teeth clenched together. It was overwhelming, but he had the vague impression he should let John direct.
John’s head fell back and he laughed, looking up at the ceiling, the vibrations moving through his body making Laurence groan pitifully. “Ha,” John said, a little vaguely, like he was having trouble focusing. “I thought you’d like it.”
John’s heel slid up the back of Laurence’s leg and then tucked into the curve of his lower back, urging him forward. Laurence moved, at first carefully, and then more confidently, sliding into the intoxicating grip of John’s body. He couldn’t hold himself back. John arched, pulling Laurence with him, until they were pressed together, bodies sweating against each other, moving in a constant rhythm, riding the edge of the pleasure. Around him, John was tight, hot, his body clenching down with each thrust, and Laurence could feel himself reaching his peak, an intensity that consumed him. When he closed his eyes, the back of his eyelids were red.
“John,” he said, trying to maintain a drop of composure. John was tightening up in sudden bursts, like body clenching down and then releasing, and it was pulling Laurence closer and closer with every moment.
“Yes, yes, come on,” John said, in a quick breath. He reached between their bodies, grabbing and stroking his own prick, moaning loudly. “William, come on.”
Laurence stopped trying to hold himself back, and let himself tumble over the edge, feeling the sudden intense clench of John’s body as he also reached the edge, spilling over both of their stomachs, reaching as high as his chest.
John was smiling, madly, like he couldn’t hold it in.
“Told you you’d like it,” he said, mid-laughter, and Laurence couldn’t help but laugh along with him, pulled in the undertow of John’s good humour.
&&&
Eventually, the morning came, and, with it, Granby’s mad rush to prepare himself and Iskierka to leave. Of course, he had not packed, or prepared Iskierka’s harness, and Laurence and Mr. Sarkar, and, eventually, Tharkay were all press-ganged into helping. It was Granby’s familiar quick and impassioned way of doing anything and the rush made Laurence forget that he was even sad for Granby’s leaving until it was mid-afternoon and Granby was checking the straps on Iskierka’s specialised harness for the final time.
“I will not be so far you have any reason to be a stranger,” John said, as they embraced. Laurence shook his head, smiling.
“Yes, you have taught me my lesson about keeping up with my correspondence, and I will write to the covert master about finding space for Temeraire,” Laurence said, gripping Granby’s shoulder firmly. “Give my regards to Little and the rest.”
“I will,” Granby said.
Tharkay stood a respectable distance away, far enough Iskierka wouldn’t accidentally stab him with one of her horns if she turned suddenly, but not so far he would appear to be keeping his distance.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Tharkay,” Granby said, bowing shallowly. Tharkay’s mouth twitched up in the corner in a thin smile.
“You are always welcome, Captain,” he said, inclining his head. “Thank you for your company.”
Granby had said his goodbyes to Mr. Sarkar earlier, a good distance from Iskierka’s chosen spot for taking flight, and promised to invite the man to present his findings to the Admiralty. Mr. Sakar considered that a significant victory and was busy packing up his experimental materials to return to his studio in London, armed with the new evidence of his flame-proofing’s success with Britain’s only fire-breather.
“Oh, wait, Laurence, I nearly forgot in all the rush,” Granby said quickly, and reached into his jacket to pull out a slightly bent letter. “This came with my orders and I didn’t catch it was for you till this morning. Looks like it’s from Roland.”
“Hm,” Laurence said, flipping over the letter to see the Admiralty’s seal closing the fold. “Thank you.”
“No trouble,” Granby said, and nodded to them both before grabbing one of Iskierka’s harness straps. “Alright darling, let’s go.”
Iskierka began to flap her wings, and Laurence quickly backed up, giving her more space, watching Granby scramble up her side until she was in the air and Granby slowly began a small figure in the sky and then just a dark smudge on her back as she wheeled south, letting off a jet of flame as a salute, goodbye, or, perhaps, just for the joy of it.
Eventually, when Iskierka was a tiny dot on the horizon, Laurence let his gaze fall. He tapped the letter in his hands against one fist, and then tucked it into his jacket. He could read it later.
Tharkay waited not that far away, hands clasped behind his back, but Temeraire was more determined to claim his attention and slinked over quickly, nuzzling his head up against Laurence’s body.
“I am sorry,” Temeraire said, in a tone that he clearly thought was discreet but was too loud to be truly private. “But I am glad Granby has gone away.”
Laurence laughed lightly. “Why is that darling?” he asked, stroking Temeraire’s whiskers. Temeraire sniffed.
“Humans are very strange about it, I understand that, and I have been very patient about you and Granby sneaking away to breed, but I am glad to have you back,” Temeraire said primly. Laurence felt his face flame red hot.
“Uh, my dear, this isn’t a subject one discusses in public,” he said, trying to keep his voice under control. Temeraire looked at him suspiciously.
“I know Laurence, but it’s only Tharkay here,” he paused, and then seemed to look even more closely at Laurence. “You’ve turned very red.”
“Uh, just too long in the sun my dear,” Laurence said, trying to cover up his blush furiously. “My time is all yours now.”
“Good,” Temeraire said with satisfaction, and Laurence followed Temeraire back to his pavilion desperately trying to avoid making eye contact with Tharkay, too embarrassed to do anything else.
He was able to forget his embarrassment as Temeraire provided plenty of distractions, easily keeping his attention until the evening meal. It was an odd return to their quiet table of two, without Mr. Sarkar’s reports on his experimental progress or Granby’s easy good humour, and Laurence found Tharkay even more restrained and reserved than usual. He tried not to push at him. Tharkay was allowed his moments of reserve, just as every man was. Laurence could understand having days when you wanted to speak to no one, even your friends.
As the meal came to an end, Tharkay took up his wine glass and looked out the windowed doors. “Shall we take our drinks outside?” he offered. “I find the nights have grown rather warm.”
Laurence agreed with alacrity, and they took their wine glasses out to the terrace, looking out over Temeraire’s pavilion where he was still enjoying his evening meal.
“Very few men could claim such a draconid view,” Laurence said, hoping to give Tharkay an opening to speak. He merely hummed in agreement, and Laurence let the matter drop.
The terrace was lit by torches, and, in the companionable silence, Laurence finally had a spare thought for the letter Granby had given him. Tharkay seemed enmeshed in his own thoughts, and Laurence did not feel too rude for taking the letter out and breaking the seal under one of the torches, the better to catch the light.
It was, indeed, from Roland, and began in her typically brusque way.
Laurence
Our boys in the Foreign Office have managed to cock up just about every one of the recent attempts at diplomacy with dragon-invested nations. I’ve convinced them to try a new tack, and we want you back. I told them to make you a Captain but apparently you’re a hero of the invasion or some such nonsense and they’re offering you a commission as an Admiral.
I told them you won’t take it unless Temeraire agrees. Tell him the Prime Minister has offered to meet him privately - or as privately as you can meet a 100 ton loudmouth of a dragon - to discuss dragon emancipation. Between us, Temeraire can probably ask for more. They’re desperate to repair relations with the Americans, and the last ambassador’s dragon nearly ate the Foreign Secretary.
Discuss with Temeraire and respond at your convenience. You’ll need to report to London for orders. The covert master in London will accommodate you.
Yours,
Roland
Laurence folded the letter up in shock, speechless for a long moment. Temeraire would leap at the chance to make his case for dragon emancipation. Laurence’s occupation and livelihood had been restored to him in one fell swoop.
When he looked up, he realised Tharkay was watching him. His face was partially hidden in shadow, the light of the torch flickering over his features. It reminded Laurence of the many nights they had spent in conversation over the years, in every corner of the world. After Temeraire, it was perhaps only Tharkay that was the true constant in his life.
“Tenzing,” he said slowly, thinking to tell Tharkay of his news. Tharkay cut him off.
“It is unnecessary to reassure me,” Tharkay said plainly, and Laurence looked at him in confusion.
“I’m sorry?” he asked. Tharkay turned to look out over the lawn, bracing his hands on the stone. Laurence could see the tense shape of his shoulders, his arms locked tightly.
“I believed there was an understanding between us, that had grown over our many years of acquaintance. After the many tribulations of our years together, had we not reached a place of companionship, of partnership, of connection? Together, in this place, I thought we might continue in the same vein of companionship. It is clear to me now that was foolish, that I let my own desires colour my perception of the world around me. I led myself to the impression that restraint from yourself was a sign of desire for a connection that was not--” Here Tharkay paused, and let his head fall forward. Laurence, caught up in this sudden outpouring of words from a man so normally reserved, took an aborted step forward.
“That was not what?” he asked. Tharkay raised his head and his eyes, warm in the torchlight, met Laurence’s. Laurence had thought Tharkay could hide every emotion, that he would never betray anything he did not deliberately show. He had been wrong. A deep, painful anguish showed on his face.
“Romantic,” Tharkay said, very quietly. Laurence stared at him.
“Tenzing,” Laurence said. “I had no idea.”
Tharkay’s mouth twisted. “I did not think I had been particularly subtle. You live in my home, for god’s sake.”
Laurence couldn’t help but let out a bark of surprised laughter. He immediately regretted it. Tharkay did not look like a man who could suffer laughter at his expense, even if only in surprise.
“I am in earnest,” Laurence said, stepping closer, until Tharkay had to turn to face him. “I had no idea. You kept this all from me.”
Tharkay looked at him for a long moment, as if he could ferret a lie from him just through his gaze. Laurence didn’t look away. The planes of Tharkay’s face were entirely familiar to him, such common ground he no longer found it remarkable. That had been his error, to think that Tharkay was unremarkable, a sturdy pillar at the centre of Laurence’s life. It had allowed him to miss the signs. That Tharkay had buried them deep was no excuse. Laurence knew Tharkay better than any other in the world, excepting Temeraire. He should have known.
“I have been forced to conclude it is not a lack of interest in my sex, or in affection, but in me,” Tharkay said, his pride clearly wounded. He moved slightly, as if to turn away, and Laurence could not risk that he would leave, that their chance to speak in the open might end. He reached out and grasped both of Tharkay’s hands firmly.
“That couldn’t be further from the truth,” Laurence said, with real feeling, gripping Tharkay’s hands. “Tenzing, you have been the only constant in my life. When I could remember nothing, not even Temeraire, it was your face that brought me back to the land of the living. Please never think you are lesser in my affections than any other.”
Tharkay tugged at his hands ineffectually. Laurence knew he was capable of withdrawing if he truly wished, and did not let go.
“Captain Granby-” Tharkay said, and Laurence shook his head.
“John is a friend, a dear friend, who opened my eyes to matters of my own self that had been unknown to me. But what we have is friendship, and nothing additional to that,” he said. “Tenzing, you said it yourself. I live in your home.”
Tharkay shook his head. “I won’t have you speak out of a sense of obligation-” he said.
“Oh, for god’s sake Tharkay,” Laurence said, unable to keep his frustration in. He released one of Tharkay’s hands and reached inside his jacket, where he had stashed Roland’s letter. He pushed it into Tharkay’s hands. “Read this. I have no obligation to you, or to anyone, to say anything, except perhaps to give my love to Temeraire, which I have never considered an obligation. When have you ever known me to speak solely out of obligation?”
Tharkay unfolded his letter and his eyes moved rapidly as he read. “You have a very advanced sense of manners,” he said carefully, as he read.
“Manners be damned,” Laurence said. He grabbed Tharkay’s shoulders firmly, and kissed him. At first, Tharkay seemed too surprised to respond, but then surged forward, putting his arms around Laurence and propelling them back against the stonework of the terrace. His mouth was soft, his lips gentle, but Laurence felt the kiss as a full-body sensation, completely enveloping him.
“Are you sure?” Tharkay asked, when they finally drew apart to breathe. Laurence reached up to cup Tharkay’s cheek in his hand, and tried, fruitlessly, to catch his breath.
“I have never been more sure,” he said.