“What did the poor wall ever do to you, eh?” Markus asks with a faint hint of levity to his voice. He’s trying to tell a joke, but it’s falling flat. Loran can barely even understand his words, let alone the tone – his whole being is consumed with the knowledge that he almost hit a lord!

  And not just any lord, but the heir of a Great House….

  …And the man who has just freed him.

  When the words do register, he looks over to where he was pounding on the wall.

  His knees buckle. If not for Markus quickly shifting his grip to Loran’s elbow on one side and Orion’s speedy intervention on the other, Loran would have ended up sprawling on the floor.

  He’s damaged the wall – made dents in the plaster and leaked blood all over it. A lord’s wall.

  I’m dead! he murmurs to himself. He only realises that he’s spoken aloud or projected it strongly enough mentally for others to hear when Markus replies.

  “It’s not that bad,” he reassures. Placing the hand not currently supporting Loran, on the wall, Markus smooths out the dents. Even Loran’s blood rushes together into a small ball which Markus…makes Loran’s own body reabsorb?

  The stinging pain of his knuckles is the next to go, the wounds healing like they never existed, the blood streaking them also being absorbed by his own body. Perhaps Loran should be angry that Markus is still so easily able to manipulate his body even though he’s free but frankly, the terror has washed his anger out of his body, leaving only a weak-kneed numbness once more.

  “See? No evidence. It never happened.” Markus smiles at Loran and the former-slave thinks that maybe he should smile back, but he can’t make his lips form the expression.

  Markus’ smile fades and he studies Loran for a moment. “Come on. Let’s get you outside with everyone else. We can talk through what’s got you punching walls there.”

  He turns like there’s no question that Loran will disobey. The former-slave knows that he shouldn’t argue. He might be free, but damaging a lord’s property is a serious misdemeanor nonetheless. If not for Markus’ kindness, he’d be paying some of those silver coins in his pouch to the steward right now – and thanking the man if it was the only cost.

  But yet….

  “And what if I don’t come?” he asks, his tongue deciding now is a good time to start working.

  Markus pauses and turns his head.

  “Well, we could go somewhere else, if you prefer,” he answers calmly. “I can ask Pevril if there’s a room we could borrow if you don’t want to go back to the suite he’s lent us either.”

  “No, I mean…what if I don’t want to go anywhere? With you.”

  What are you doing? Loran asks himself desperately. He’s not even angry at Markus, at least not much. Yet he’s taking it out on the one man to have shown him mercy.

  The way Markus’ expression falls a little makes Loran feel like the scum of the earth – like dirt on the bottom of his mast- Markus’ shoes.

  He sees Markus swallow and close his eyes for a moment. When they open again, they’re full of calm resolve, the brief hint of hurt that had been there a moment ago cleared away. Over the Bond, Markus’ side is impenetrable. Artemis, Orion, and Trouble are watching with wide eyes but they don’t move a muscle.

  Loran’s heart rises into his mouth. What’s Markus going to do? Send Loran away? Order him enslaved again? Break the Bond? Break the Bond and then reinstitute the previous Bond?

  What he does isn’t anything Loran expected. Namely, nothing.

  “If you no longer want to be part of the pack, that’s fine,” he tells Loran calmly, almost emotionlessly. “You’re free – you can do what you like. And even if you want to stay with us, if you want to take some time by yourself to process things, that’s fine. What’s not fine is when processing your emotions leads you to hitting a wall so hard you split your knuckles and fracture three of your bones.”

  “...I fractured bones?” Loran asks in a small voice after a moment of silence. Markus nods. “Oh.”

  He casts his eyes down to the ground, the wind taken out of his sails by Markus’ refusal to take offence, by his only boundary apparently being Loran not actually hurting himself. “I’ll come with you,” Loran says, his mouth moving almost without his permission. “To join the others.”

  Markus raises his eyebrow in question.

  “Are you sure? Don’t come just because you think I want you to. Come because you want to.”

  And it’s that consideration and the way Loran can feel that Markus means it that convinces him it’s a good decision.

  “I’m sure,” he replies, his voice firmer than before. Markus eyes him for a long moment, then nods and turns away again silently.

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  Artemis and Orion press close to Loran as they start walking again.

  You’ll stay, yes? Artemis asks, sounding the closest to pleading that Loran has ever heard her. You’re pack.

  “Don’t pressure him, Artemis,” Markus commands calmly from up ahead, without turning around. “I suspect he’s had enough of other people making decisions for him.”

  Loran swallows as that statement hits him like an arrow to the chest. Does he…. Can Markus…understand? Somehow? Surely not. But yet…?

  Artemis falls back, feeling a little abashed. Loran reaches out a hand to her and pulls her close again.

  “I don’t want to leave you,” he murmurs quietly to her, aware that the man ahead of him can probably hear him anyway. “It’s just….” He sighs and cuts himself off. He doesn’t know what he wants.

  Returning to the rooftop garden is both a gratifying and an overwhelming experience. Markus is clearly not the only one who felt his emotions and Loran is soon surrounded by worried beings, those who shared the basement with him the first to press close to him.

  “Give him some space,” he hears Markus’ voice order with a hint of exasperation. He’s grateful for it – his own tongue has thickened in his mouth again and prevents him from asking for himself. But he does try to send his appreciation down the Bond between him and the others – their concern soothes a fear he hadn’t realised he had: that perhaps they only liked him when he belonged to Markus.

  He strokes and caresses the beasts around him, soothing himself as much as he soothes them. He’s surprised when the samurans each rub cheeks with him in the way he’s seen them do with Markus – he hadn’t thought he warranted such affection. The tumultuous emotions within him settle a little – not gone, but a little easier to deal with.

  With the ebbing of his fury, and the fear he now realises underlay it, he is forced to acknowledge that he treated Markus very inappropriately. Not only because he is a lord, but also because he’s been the only decent master Loran ever had, and the only one to even consider freeing him, let alone actually do it.

  Swallowing, he pushes himself up from the sitting position he’d almost fallen into. The beasts crowding around him yield to his desire to leave their circle – they’re far calmer now that his own emotions have settled too. His feet feel like clay once more, but he forces them forwards.

  Markus is fiddling with something, but Loran doesn’t get a good enough view before it vanishes from his hands to work out what. He doesn’t dare lift his eyes to meet Markus’, shame running through him.

  “Loran?” Markus invites gently.

  “I…” He swallows and tries to force his tongue to work. It can’t really have doubled in size and weight! “I…didn’t thank you. For freeing me.”

  “It’s OK. I didn’t do it for gratitude. Anyway, you’re the one who freed yourself.”

  That has Loran staring up in surprise.

  “...What?”

  “It was your loyalty to our companions that earned you the coins, and it was your choice to use them to buy out your service contract,” Markus points out. “And you’re the one who survived long enough to get to that point anyway. I reckon my own role in the whole affair was relatively minor, all things considered.”

  Loran can only blink, his mouth hanging open slightly as he tries to understand Markus’ reasoning. Then he closes his mouth and swallows. He could argue that Markus is the one who chose to give him enough to buy out his service contract, and he’d be right but…so is Markus.

  Unexpectedly, the feeling that maybe he wasn’t just given his freedom, but actually earned it helps. Makes all the pain and fear and awfulness of the last two years feel like it actually meant something.

  “I…I never thought about it like that,” he confesses quietly. Markus shrugs.

  “That’s fine.” He flashes a grin. “That’s what I’m here for – to give another perspective…or be a listening ear if that’s what you need.” The grin dies away and the Bond makes it very clear he’s being entirely serious.

  Loran considers the offer for a long moment. And it is an offer, not a lightly-concealed command. And then he considers whether he dares take Markus up on it. Abruptly, he realises he wants to. There are too many thoughts buzzing and whirling around his head – it would be good to have someone to help sort them out with him.

  He’s lost the habit of actually dealing with his emotions – if he had ever had it in the first place. Reject, bury, and deny has been his method for the last two years. Perhaps even longer than that. But now…now the lid has been blown off and he can’t put it back on.

  And Markus has consistently proven that he sticks to what he says….

  “Will you…will you use anything I say against me? To trap me? To…to hurt me?” He barely gets the words out. He’d never have dared ask that question of another master, knowing that even the question would have invited reprisal. But Markus isn’t his master, and Loran has faith in him.

  Markus looks at him solemnly.

  “I promise, I won’t use your words against you in any way. And if you want, I can put a Seal around us so only you and I can hear what you say.”

  Loran considers it for a moment and then nods briefly. A moment later, the sound from around them is deadened.

  It takes a lot longer for him to find his words, not even knowing where to start in the maelstrom inside him.

  In the end, it’s Markus who prompts him.

  “Would you like to talk about why you were so angry that you were punching a wall? Or perhaps about the reason for that deep sense of fear I also felt?”

  Loran doesn’t feel up to exploring his rage, not yet, but perhaps having a way forward would help him feel more settled.

  “I just don’t know what to do,” he confesses. “I have so many choices. I…I don’t know what to choose…how to choose any more. I…what if I’ve been a slave so long I can’t choose things for myself anymore?”

  And that’s the root of his fear, he realises. He’s seen so many people turned into shells; what if he’s become one of them without even noticing?

  Markus hums, but doesn’t seem concerned.

  “You only got that collar off your neck an hour ago, Loran,” he points out. “Give yourself a break. And how can you say you can’t choose? You’ve been choosing all this time. Between obeying orders and being punished, yes, but it’s still a choice. And what about in the basement? You chose to speak to Alyna. You chose to try to convince her to let you free. You chose to throw yourself to Dexil rather than him take another of our companions. You chose to force your way through pain to make an escape.” His voice is sympathetic, the expression on his face is almost painfully compassionate. But Loran can’t look away. “Perhaps you’re getting a bit overwhelmed with options, but it’s not because you can’t choose.”

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