They left early the next morning. Arlo’s light guided a cart pulled by Jack and Diane through the dark city. In the back, Tsuto and Orik sat, feet and arms bound. It was a stipulation insisted on by the guards — neither would be freed from their bonds until they were at least thirty kilometres from the city.

  Arlo figured that meant the first night.

  A shadow crossed their path. Coradiel pulled up, and Arlo lifted his staff, shedding light on the person before them.

  “Shalelu?” Coradiel demanded.

  “Aye,” the elven ranger said. “I heard you’re heading north to Turtleback Ferry. I want in.”

  “Any particular reason?”

  “Personal ones,” Shalelu stated simply.

  “We could use the aid in the wilderness,” Arlo pointed out, glancing at Coradiel. “Our food won’t last all the way there, not with four mouths.”

  “Well, sounds like we need each other.”

  “What of Sandpoint?” Coradiel demanded.

  “Safe enough for now. I highly doubt any goblins will try anything in our absence. Not with the kind of devastation we wreaked upon them.” Shalelu climbed into the back of the wagon, settling down beside Orik. “They sprung you for the Black Arrows?”

  “Yeah,” Orik said, leaning against the side of the wagon.

  They began moving again, Coradiel slumping in his seat.

  “I don’t like this,” he muttered.

  “We do need her,” Arlo insisted.

  “I know.”

  They passed through the dark city, weaving between guard patrols on their way out the southern gates.

  The sun rose before them as they followed the road east. Farmlands passed around them, with workers already in the fields harvesting the last of the year’s grain. Arlo drew his new Cloak of Resistance around himself as they travelled onward — even with the sun rising, an early-winter chill was heavy on the air.

  It wasn’t until they stopped for a short lunch break that he allowed his disguise to fade. Tucking his Hat of Disguise into his bag, Arlo ignored the incredulous looks from Shalelu and Orik. Only Tsuto seemed unsurprised by the revelation.

  “And here I thought you were dead,” Shalelu said as Arlo bit into some dry bread.

  “Only mostly dead,” Arlo said, staring at a farm nearby. It was rather distant from the city; probably the last farmhouse they’d see for a long while. From here out, it would be true wilderness.

  “Ameiko helped me resurrect him,” Coradiel added.

  Tsuto stiffened at his sister’s name. He’d refused the meal Coradiel offered to him, keeping his mouth glued shut. Shrugging, Coradiel moved on to Orik, who happily accepted the meal his captors provided him.

  “You’ll have to eat at some point,” Coradiel said, glancing back at Tsuto.

  “I need to use the toilet,” Tsuto said. “Either someone will have to help me, or you remove my bonds.”

  “Go in your pants.”

  “Arlo!” Coradiel stared at the amurrun, aghast.

  “What? I’ll just magic the crap away. He’ll be fine, and it reduces the risk of him running.”

  Tsuto stared at him steadily. Arlo stared back, unmoved. A minute later, Arlo waved his hand.

  “[Prestidigitation].”

  “I… uh… I think I’ll hold it until tonight,” Orik said, looking between Arlo and Tsuto.

  “Come on,” Coradiel sighed, helping Orik up. They vanished into the brush.

  “You’re… a lot more vicious,” Shalelu said, turning to Arlo. “I can’t believe resurrection would mess with someone’s personality this much.”

  Arlo grunted, finishing his bread. He rose and headed off the road to take care of his own business, leaving Shalelu to guard their prisoner.

  “It’ll take us a week and a half to get to Turtleback Ferry.” Shalelu drove a stake into the ground with a grunt. “We can really only expect eight hours out of the horses; they were fresh today so we could go a bit longer, but tomorrow, we shouldn’t leave until well after sunup.”

  Coradiel glanced up at the sky. Grey clouds rolled across the azure depths, and a strong wind made his own tent ripple in the grass. Turning his head, he found Arlo staring skyward as well, his fur billowing in the gust. The amurrun pulled his hood up, and vanished into the afternoon. Why he felt the need to vanish was beyond Coradiel. His resurrection had clearly affected him more than Ameiko could have guessed. A single potion wouldn’t cure the amurrun.

  Coradiel turned back to his own task. A third tent went up. It would be tight sleeping for Tsuto and Orik, but the two would have to deal with it. Even now, Tsuto was staring at the two as they worked. Orik had gone off to gather firewood, at least as best as could be found around these parts. Arlo… Coradiel wasn’t sure what Arlo was doing. Probably laying magic traps around the campsite to alert him of danger.

  Shalelu headed out not long after Arlo left. Coradiel was left alone with the other aiuvarin for nearly an hour of uncomfortable silence. Tsuto just sat through it, staring at the paladin. His wrists and legs were unbound now, the rope coiled in Arlo’s bag. Yet Tsuto had made no attempt to escape, nor any attempt to help set up the camp.

  “Break camp.”

  Coradiel jumped as Arlo reappeared beside him. The amurrun held out a slender wand and tapped it on the ground.

  An opaque blue bubble grew around them. Forty feet across, the sphere encompassed the entire campsite, cutting it off from the elements.

  Coradiel stared around himself in wonder. A heat stone sat in a small depression, offering a place to cook food. Three small rooms were separated from each other by collapsable walls, each with a pair of bedrolls within them. There was even a tiny paddock near the entrance for the horses.

  Overhead, he could still see the clouds rolling over them, but the wind didn’t touch them within the hut. It wasn’t the fanciest place Coradiel had ever seen, but it was an incredible display of magic.

  “I had someone prepare an expedition pavilion, but I made it in a wand form,” Arlo said, tucking the wand away. “It’ll last until I leave, and I can create it once a day.”

  Coradiel turned back to his tent, and began dismantling it. He’d have no need for it during this quest, it seemed. A small smile crossed his lips. This was more like the Arlo he knew, making sure everyone was comfortable for the night.

  He watched as Arlo waved another wand toward the entrance. It seemed the amurrun had done well for himself in Magnimar despite the barriers in his path. He certainly was more prepared for the journey than Coradiel was — the paladin had been more focused on provisions and healing items.

  “Hello?” Orik’s voice came clearly through the barrier protecting them. “What-”

  Coradiel opened the door, motioning for the man to come inside. Orik’s eyes widened as he took in the structure, and he dropped a full stack of wood on the floor.

  “You mean I didn’t have to go get firewood?”

  “I guess not,” Coradiel said. “Come on, help me get the horses in here.”

  Within two hours, everyone was warm, well-fed, and cheerful. Even Tsuto broke a little and spoke a few words to Orik, who replied in a jovial manner.

  Through it all, Arlo stared from his seat beside the hut’s entrance. Coradiel kept trying to include him, but the amurrun rebuffed every attempt. It didn’t feel right, joking, laughing… living.

  An arm wrapped around his shoulders. Coradiel rubbed soothingly, watching Shalelu reenact a goblin hunt for Orik. Rain poured down over their heads. Lightning competed with the ambient light within the hut. But inside, the world was warm, dry. Arlo would even say comfortable — far more comfortable than sitting outside would be.

  They could see all around them. There would be no one sneaking up on them tonight. Still, Arlo played with his new Ring of Sustenance uneasily. Ameiko had warned him it would take a week before he’d feel the effects of it. He needed the ring to work now. It would cut his rest times down to two hours instead of eight. He’d be able to protect the camp much easier.

  “Tell me what’s wrong,” Coradiel said quietly.

  Arlo shrugged helplessly. He couldn’t describe what he was feeling — he’d never been good at explaining his depression before. The amurrun had thought himself cured when he entered this world, yet it seemed the disease had followed him even here.

  “It’s not you,” he said finally.

  “What’s not me?”

  Arlo shook his head. “You’re not responsible for this,” he tried. “I just… I don’t want to be around people right now.”

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  He could hear the paladin’s hurt. Yet that was exactly what Arlo needed. He needed time to himself, time to recuperate… if one could recuperate from dying and being resurrected.

  But he just leaned into Coradiel. He was betraying himself. But that was better than betraying the man who had brought him back.

  His spell was ticking. He would be well rested in five hours and thirty eight minutes, so long as he didn’t have to fight anything while on watch. And he would be the only one on watch, a lonely sentinel against the storming night.

  But a hand touched his head. Ran through his fur. Massaged his scalp and stroked his ears. From somewhere deep inside, Arlo rumbled.

  “I lost you. Again.” Coradiel’s voice crackled. He cleared his throat, a loud staccato in Arlo’s ear. “I… I would have given anything… to hold you like this again. And now I have you. But it’s not you. It’s not the sarcastic bastard I know.”

  “How?” Arlo tensed slightly. His head tilted, looking up at Coradiel. “How was I… why am I alive?”

  “Ameiko took you to a priest of Iomedae. I was beyond hope. The Deer told me time was up, that I was too late. And I believed him like an idiot.”

  “A priest resurrected me?”

  Arlo wasn’t stupid. Magic existed. But only in the arcane sense, right? Even Ushara’s magic… it was just another form of chanting words in the right order; long-winded spells in the guise of prayers.

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  But what if they really were prayers? What if someone was listening?

  What if someone actually thought him worthy of being brought back?

  The thought terrified him. His life already hinged on the success of a mission he had no idea how to complete. To have yet another being deciding whether he deserved to live or die… it pissed him off.

  “A cleric,” Coradiel specified. “She brought you back.”

  Emotions roiled through the amurrun, crashing like the rain pouring around their hut.

  “Why did you do it?” he whispered. “It’s only going to hurt more when they catch me again.”

  And it would be when. Arlo couldn’t hide his whole life. Eventually someone would find him. And he’d be dead. He’d already proven he couldn’t fight off the entire Pharasmin church.

  A hand turned his head. Lips brushed against his, slow, tender. Thunder crashed in the distance… or was that his heart pounding in his ears? Every time he tried to pull back, every time he tried to give Coradiel space, the aiuvarin pressed forward, until he was leaning over Arlo. Strong arms wrapped around the amurrun, holding him still at last.

  “I need you,” Coradiel murmured. “Without you, my life is empty.”

  Arlo gazed into those topaz orbs. Tears glistened. How many times did he have to hear it? Coradiel wanted him, loved him. Yet the pain was still there.

  “It hurts now, Arlo. I did things I never thought I would do, just to get you back. And I’ll do them again, and again, as many times as it takes for you to stay with me.”

  Arlo’s eyes lowered. He blinked the wetness away, yet there was more, always more.

  “Oh for Shelyn’s sake, just kiss him already!”

  Orik’s voice shattered their little world. Arlo scrambled back, eyes flickering guiltily. Orik and Shalelu were staring at the two of them. Only Tsuto was missing, though Arlo could see his bare foot through one of the curtains hiding a bedroom.

  “You dolt.” Shalelu smacked Orik.

  The man yelped. “What did I do?!”

  Thunder crashed. Lightning split the predawn sky.

  And Arlo sat alone in front of the hut’s door.

  His quill scratched quietly over his spellbook, writing out equations, drawing magic circles. A new spell took form before him, a spell that would upgrade the hat he wore. No longer would it cast illusions upon him, easily disbelieved by the perceptive. No, it would now change his actual shape, allowing him to adopt the appearance of anyone he desired.

  Setting his quill aside, Arlo blotted the ink dry. He stood up, working through the formula of the first spell he’d actually learned on his own.

  “[Alter Self].”

  He felt the icy brush of magic pass over him. Taking a deep breath, Arlo dug through Coradiel’s bag, pulling out a mirror. The amurrun lifted it.

  An angular face stared back at him. Tapered ears ran along long, dark hair. Topaz eyes looked over his reflection in amazement. The spell had worked. He had done magic by himself!

  A face appeared beside him in the mirror.

  “Not bad,” Coradiel murmured in his ear. “We should look to make sure you got the rest right.”

  Arlo dismissed the spell with a wave. Fur sprouted, ears shifted, his face pushed into a slight muzzle.

  “Is that a no?”

  The amurrun shrugged. He tucked the mirror back into Coradiel’s bag. Standing up, Arlo was caught by Coradiel before he could walk away.

  “Are you feeling any better today?” the paladin asked, scanning Arlo’s face.

  Another shrug.

  “Is there anything I can do to change that?”

  Arlo paused mid-shrug. Before he could stop himself, the amurrun held his arms out. Coradiel melted into them, embracing Arlo tightly. Shared warmth seeped between them. Arms tightened, crushing the two together, and Arlo sighed. His cheek pressed to Coradiel’s shoulder. A hand stroked his head, nails scratching an itch he didn’t know he had. Another rumble filled him, rising and falling with his breaths.

  “I feel empty,” Arlo admitted. “Like there’s no purpose to my life.”

  Soft fingers lifted his chin.

  “There is always a purpose,” Coradiel promised. “Sometimes you just have to look.”

  “Why Arshea?” Arlo asked suddenly. “Why Lymnieris, why Shelyn? Why so many?”

  “You do not pray to Sarenrae on the seas. You do not pray to Gozreh in a city. Each god has their own purpose. I pray to Lymnieris for his protection as I move from one part of life to the next. I pray to Shelyn whenever I need reminded that beauty does exist. And I pray to Arshea because they showed me who I was. They allowed me to be me.”

  “And they answer?”

  Coradiel slid the bracelet off his wrist. Arlo immediately felt his bangle grow colder — he could feel Coradiel’s was gone.

  “These are her answer,” the paladin said. “When I thought Ushara had slain you, Arshea granted me this bracelet to let me know you were still alive and safe. But I did not know until later. That’s what the gods are like. They work in-”

  “Mysterious ways,” Arlo grumbled.

  “Ways that might seem strange,” Coradiel admitted. “But I find that often, my prayers are answered. I am stronger in combat. Fear does not grip me. That day we fought through Misgivings, that was the first day in years that I hadn’t prayed to Arshea. She let me feel the terror of that building. I’ve prayed to her every day since, and now I’m as stalwart a companion as any you’ll find.”

  Arlo’s eyes closed. He held onto Coradiel, his mind whirling. He was an atheist. He didn’t believe in any gods… yet his life was irrefutable proof that they existed… At least, one of them did.

  If he was going to live in a world, a universe, where deities could affect daily life, Arlo couldn’t ignore their presence, even if he wanted to. And if he was going to pick a deity to watch over him, he could do worse than a genderfluid deity of love and sex.

  “Can you… teach me to pray?”

  Arlo lay back on Coradiel’s bedroll, staring up at the naked paladin. His own clothes were gone, his body was bare before Coradiel. It sent a thrill through him — there was nothing between them now. He hadn’t been this exposed to Coradiel since that first night in the noble’s townhouse.

  “The goal is to achieve release,” Coradiel murmured, kneeling over Arlo’s legs. “Sometimes that’s fast. Sometimes it’s slow. Sometimes it’s painful. Your heart says it’s wrong. But we do it because Arshea asks it of us.”

  “Why do they care?”

  “Because it shows we are happy. We enjoy ourselves. And that makes them happy.”

  Reaching down, Coradiel lifted one of Arlo’s hands and set it on his hip.

  “Now, tell Arshea something you appreciate about my body.”

  Arlo frowned, but left his hand where it was. A finger caressed lightly.

  “Isn’t that kind of shallow?” the amurrun pointed out. “I mean, I like more than just your body.”

  “And I appreciate that. Trust me,” Coradiel said with a soft smile. “Shelyn does teach-”

  “Wait… you use another deity to praise the first?”

  “I take wisdom from many sources. Shelyn teaches us that beauty can be internal as well as external. If it makes you more comfortable, you can tell Arshea something you feel is beautiful about me as a person.”

  Arlo’s eyes narrowed. “Are you just fishing for compliments?”

  “Yes, but also no,” Coradiel said. “This is how we pray to Arshea. For example…” Coradiel raised a hand. His thumb caressed around his nipple, and the paladin relaxed atop Arlo. “My breasts are small, but they are perfect to me.” His hand lowered, brushing over Arlo’s chest. “Yours are furry, fuzzy… the perfect place to rest my head.”

  “And… this is supposed to get me off?”

  “The act of sexual release is not the only goal of prayer. At the end, you’re supposed to feel good about yourself, and about your partner, if you pray with one.” Coradiel removed his hands, settling back on his legs. “Your turn.”

  Biting his lip, Arlo let his fingers run up Coradiel’s creamy side. He paused, his hands hovering over Coradiel’s chest.

  “Can-”

  “Go ahead,” Coradiel said before he could finish. “I’m a male. It makes no difference to me that my chest is an erogenous zone.”

  Arlo set his hand to Coradiel’s chest. He squeezed experimentally.

  “You…” Swallowing hard, he tried again. “Your heart… it’s so pure.”

  Coradiel chuckled lightly. He leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to Arlo’s lips.

  “Thank you.” His lips feathered against the amurrun’s. “Your body is a study in exotic beauty.” His fingers ran down Arlo’s body, coming to a rest over the amurrun’s hips. “Your fur is so neat. So coarse in some spots, yet so soft in others. I want to sink myself into you and never emerge again.”

  He pressed lightly against Arlo’s hips. Arlo gasped, his hips arching up into Coradiel’s touch. A soft whimper slipped from him.

  “Your hands… they feel so good…” he breathed.

  “Your lips… so delectable…” The paladin kissed him again. Teeth scraped lightly over Arlo’s bottom lip, tugging gently before sliding away. Arlo’s head lifted, chasing the fleeing mouth. He sagged a moment later, panting softly.

  It was too much. He needed Coradiel, needed the weight he could provide, the warmth… Reaching up, the amurrun tugged at Coradiel’s arms until the paladin was laying atop him. His hips rose, pressing his aching cock into Coradiel’s body. Arlo sighed, his body shivering as the pieces that made him up pressed together under Coradiel’s weight.

  “So warm… the perfect weight…” he breathed out. Hands reached down, resting over Coradiel’s butt. Arlo felt the paladin reciprocate the touch, and he lifted himself again, letting Coradiel grab him.

  Coradiel squeezed his globes, an appreciative murmur rolling from his lips.

  “Have I ever mentioned how much I love your butt?” he asked, squeezing again.

  Arlo nodded breathlessly. His eyes blinked heavily but he forced them open, gazing lovingly at the aiuvarin atop him.

  And suddenly, Coradiel was the one thrusting, slowly, gently. Arlo felt a slender length slip between his legs. He squeezed his thighs, and Coradiel moaned.

  “Arlo… Arshea as my witness, I love you.”

  Something hot and wet spattered under Arlo, and the amurrun tensed up. Lips crashed into his, biting, nipping, tugging. Coradiel reached between them, and his hand wrapped around Arlo’s cock. He stroked slowly, sensually, and Arlo whimpered again.

  His own hand reached down. Wrapping over Coradiel’s, Arlo stroked faster. His hips lifted, pushing his length into the hands even as he stroked faster, faster…

  He slammed his lips into Coradiel’s, a muffled cry buried in the paladin’s mouth as he came hard.

  Pulling back as Arlo collapsed, Coradiel smiled beatifically.

  “You just prayed to Arshea,” the paladin said. His hips gyrated, smearing Arlo’s spent between them. “Good boy,” he murmured.

  Arlo stared up at him, panting heavily.

  “It… it doesn’t matter… that we’re both… both male?”

  “Why would it?” Coradiel asked. “We showed our love for each other. We praised each other’s bodies as we found release. That is all Arshea asks. The specifics are up to us to decide.”

  “Aw, are you two done already?”

  Arlo stiffened under Coradiel. Trembling, his eyes widened as Coradiel turned his head toward the room beside them.

  “Feel free to join us next time,” the aiuvarin called to Orik.

  “Mmm, no thanks. I prefer the lady folk.”

  “Coradiel!” Arlo hissed. “What the fuck-”

  “Is that a problem?” Coradiel asked innocently. “I still love you, Arlo. If you’d rather I refrain from other sexual partners, I’ll do so. But I do feel Arshea’s love should be spread, not hoarded.”

  “I thought you only slept with one person at a time!”

  “Well yes, that has been my history. But mainly because my partners rathered I stick to just them. People are allowed to grow and change, and I occasionally find myself wondering what it would be like to pleasure two men at the same time.”

  “Don’t… don’t say it like that.” Arlo frowned. “It makes you sound like a whore.”

  “Is that a problem?” Coradiel asked again. “Tell me, what is it about a whore that would make them any less desirable?”

  “They… well… I mean-”

  “My body count is high. Does that make me any less desirable?”

  “No, but-”

  “I’ve given and received money in exchange for sex.”

  “But you’re different.”

  “How?”

  Beside them, they heard Orik snickering. Arlo wanted to yell, to scream at him to shut up. This was supposed to be a private moment. He didn’t want the whole hut to know Coradiel was upset with him.

  The paladin rolled off him.

  “You’re… you,” Arlo said lamely. “I know you.”

  “I was a whore. I spent a week in a brothel, letting men and women enjoy my body. It is a requirement for Lymnieris’ paladins that they serve those who serve them. It is also what made me realise I couldn’t make Lymnieris my patron. I enjoy sex, but the lifestyle was not for me.” Coradiel frowned at Arlo. “I would never accuse a prostitute of being lesser for pursuing that life.”

  He sighed quietly.

  “I will forgive your thinking. You have some demons within you that prevent you from understanding. But I will not tolerate that kind of talk again. Is that clear?”

  “Yes,” Arlo whispered. His mind spun. His body felt cold without Coradiel to keep him warm. “I’m sorry.”

  “Are you? Or are you saying that to get back on my good side?”

  Arko frowned, staring down at the cum drying on his stomach. Beside him, Coradiel dressed silently.

  “[Prestidigitation].” The stains cleared up instantly on both of them. “I am sorry I made you upset,” Arlo tried again. “I… I don’t understand. But I won’t speak ill of whores again.”

  “Thank you,” Coradiel murmured, buttoning his shirt. “You should dress. It’s getting light out.”

  Glancing up, Arlo confirmed that the sky was lightening. It would still be some time before it was bright enough to travel, and it was still pouring rain down, but Arlo rose anyway, dressing quickly.

  Minutes later, he was seated comfortably beside the heat stone, warming himself while preparing the day’s spells.