FOREVER KNIGHTS: #12 Primal Intent
RHYERS - She Knows Now

Marshall Manse, Mane Country

RHYERS

Rhyers awoke blearily. Hearing voices he recognized though it was hard to tell who. He blinked slowly. Fighting off a pounding headache. Putting a palm to his forehead he sat up and saw Bast standing shirtless in his chamber.

Ebony handing him a frilled shirt.

“What the hell is happening here?” Rhyers blinked hard trying to focus.

“She had her maids scrub your blood out of my shirt.” Bast held up the stained garment. “And she wouldn’t let me leave the house in her brother’s.” He nodded toward a blue shirt strung over a chair.

“Ebony?” He queried.

What is happening? Looking at his surroundings. He recognized a red tapestry on the wall.

I’m in my room at Marshall Manse. It took him a moment to recall that he’d directed Bast to bring him here. For the serum. To make my blood clot.

Rhyers reached to adjust his wig and found it absent. “My wig!” He lurched up. Giving Bast a betrayed look.

You were supposed to put it on me before bringing me here!

Bast pointed to the crumpled thing on the chair in way of explanation. “I did!”

“Then how?”

Bast’s pointing finger moved to Ebony. “Her! She insisted.”

Rhyers groaned and reached for his face. Frantically palming it and eying his hands. “Truly?”

You didn’t even do that? He was staring at Bast accusingly.

“I did!” Bast lifted his hands to show that his palms and the bottoms of his forearms were still tinged with the white oil.

“Then where is it?” Rhyers’ squawked.

Ebony collected the bottom of her dress and turned it for his view.

Covered in the white oil. She smeared it off with her skirt?

Her expression was dark. “Oh, I know now.” Her dark eyes turned to tiny angry slits.

Rhyers groaned.

“We have much to talk about, Bodin, Christophe, Rhyers, whoever you are!”

Bast gave a pained grunt and slowly eased from the room as he tugged the shirt over his head.

Coward. Rhyers thought bitterly. Don’t leave me with her.

“So, who exactly am I to call you?” She persisted.

He groaned and slapped the back of his hand to his forehead in an effort to make the pounding there settle.

“So?” Ebony quirked a black brow. “What else do I need to know about you?”

“I am not, nor have I ever been,” He slid his hand down his face enough to peer over his pinky. “A boy lover.”

“Oh, I’d gathered that was all part of the ruse. Along with that.” She pointed to the wig. “So, at exactly what point, did you intend to tell me?”

Never. He slowly slid the hand back up over his eyes.

“Oh, no you don’t!” She grabbed his hand and flung it away.

“I nearly died, Woman!” He flopped onto his stomach to avoid her accusing glower.

“Yes, and now you’ve recovered.”

“So, you see fit to torture me?”

“This isn’t torture…” She said threateningly.

As if she has something better in mind for that. He cringed and buried his face in the pillow.

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