Page 40 of Tossing the Caber

Before Laurel can cast about for something else to say, Beacon leans across the bench, putting a protective arm on the seat to box Laurel in. “Lushroot, I have something important you need to hear; I’ll only say it once, so I entreat you to listen closely.”

Rodney raises his eyebrows, unimpressed by the performance.

“You may not know this, but violence is strictly frowned upon in my profession, especially against civilians. Given that, it will be in both of our best interests if you never speak to, look at, or think of my husband ever again.” Beacon’s voice remains level and calm, but in his eyes burns a raging fire more passionate than any Laurel has witnessed in his defense.

If his father is afraid, it doesn’t reflect on his face, but unease shows in his body language. He takes one step back, then another, putting space between himself and the much stronger elf meeting his eyes with an uncompromising stare.

“Are we clear?” Beacon prompts.

Rodney curls his lip into a defeated snarl. He turns without responding and storms toward the house, slamming—and locking—the gate behind him. As if that would keep Beacon out if he were determined enough.

But neither of them intends to follow. Laurel doesn’t wish anything upon Rodney except the loneliness his bitter heart put Laurel through for the decades he spent in his father’s care.

Maybe, for Laurel, that’s the shape freedom has taken. A clean break.

Beacon strokes gentle fingertips along Laurel’s tail, still clutched in his ink-stained hands, then readjusts on the bench. “Let’s leave,” he murmurs.

“I’d say we should never return, but…”

“You won’t be forced to join me.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Laurel says, snapping Beacon’s wrist with his tail.

Beacon chuckles. “We’ll arrive from the west entrance, then. Fuck this town. It didn’t deserve you.”

Laurel rests his cheek on Beacon’s shoulder and closes his eyes. “Thank you, love.”

Humming, Beacon presses a kiss to the crown of Laurel’s head and doesn’t speak again until they’ve cleared the town’s limits.

By the time they make it around Lake Braeleigh and reach Tunbrae, Beacon’s hometown, Laurel is exhausted. Even riding the wagon hasn’t been enough to take off the edge from traveling.

He caught Beacon and his parents whispering about allowing him to rest in Tunbrae, then join Beacon and the rest of the team in Stehr’s Peak at a later time, and he had thrown a rather shrill fit. That put the topic to bed. Privately, Laurel wouldn’t have minded putting himself to bed, too.

Now that they’re approaching the Sure-of-Foot clan compound, Laurel will be allowed a night or two on a proper mattress, on a still frame rather than one that moves and groans and creaks with magic.

He’ll be far too wiped for sex, but he’s looking forward to cuddling his husband for more than six restless hours when the caravan pauses for the night.

First, Beacon warns, they’ll have to face his family.

“How bad can it be?” Laurel asks, mostly to see Beacon’s face go red.

“Don’t take me as ungrateful,” he hedges, “but if I could avoid being inside this compound for more than three hours at a time for the remainder of my years, I would.”

Laurel chuckles. “That sounds like an exaggeration.”

“It’s not.”

“You love your family!”

“I love my parents.”

“What about Melody?” Laurel presses, thinking of Beacon’s sweet cousin and her shy enthusiasm as she introduced her new wife. “You’re so kind to her.”

An anguished expression overtakes Beacon, and Laurel can’t help breaking into a full laugh. “You love your family,” Laurel insists. “They just annoy you sometimes.”

“Most of the time,” Beacon grumbles, but he stops arguing. “You’ll see when you get in there.”

The high walls of the Sure-of-Foot compound are visible in the distance. It’s late evening, and the stars are starting to blink in the vast, sun-bruised sky. By the time they pull up to the gate, it’s pure blue-black, celestial glittering out in full force.