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1.
Kal let himself be sold in a daze, obedient and quiet because he'd always been. He should have just let Marcus call him a whore; he shouldn’t have sulked about it, like they were really friends. Marcus didn’t even do it himself; he just waved a hand at Bruno to walk Kal down to the village and take the madam’s money.She deposited Kal in the main room of the whorehouse before Bruno had even gone, and then left him there once she’d changed the tag on his collar."Not so special now, are you?" Lodee sneered, the other local whores sizing him up like new prey. It had been barely a year since Marcus bought him and the whorehouse felt entirely alien even though it looked exactly like the one Marcus had bought him out of: cheap, gaudy curtains and threadbare furniture that had seen better days, softened by the lamplight and too much alcohol. The place was so small there was only one whorehouse in the village, the women across the room with the flimsy excuse of a curtain between them. Kal kept his head down and drank the sour, cheap wine someone poured for him.The judge's husband, the one who played handball with Marcus sometimes, paid for him first. Then one of the field hands, who told his friends he'd been saving up for a special occasion. Kal lost track of them after that, faces he knew from the bathhouse all blurred together the more he drank. It was a small mercy after all that Marcus had never let him drink, everything gone softer after three cups of wine.Every time the door opened, Kal looked for Marcus despite himself, like Marcus had changed his mind after all and decided he was too jealous to really punish Kal like that. But it never was, even if Kal kept looking the first night, and the second, and the third. The fourth night he drank enough to forget to look and Lodee cursed him out, one of Kal’s arms slung over his shoulder to stagger up the narrow stairs.“I’m sorry,” Kal said when Lodee eased him down to the thin, cold bed.“He's not worth all this, you stupid slut,” Lodee said, shoving a cup of dusty water at him.Kal saw him at the bathhouse a few weeks later and split away from Lodee and the rest before anyone could call him back."Master, I'm sorry," Kal said before Marcus could say anything, kneeling at Marcus' feet where he sat in their usual spot–what had been their usual spot. Marcus liked when he was pushy, and enthusiastic, and just a bit bratty, but Kal found he couldn't put it on anymore, not when he was also trying to hold the ragged pieces of himself together. "I'm sorry, just please buy me back," Kal said to his hands in his lap."Master?" a voice said behind him, and Kal's stomach dropped."Kallius, sit," Marcus said to the boy behind Kal, who padded into view to sit next to Marcus and unfold the pasha board he'd been sent to fetch. He was young, and blond, and his lip was freshly pierced in the same spot as Kal's. He frowned at Kal, and Kal felt like he was going to throw up."Marcus, please–" Kal said, small and desperate, making himself say Marcus' name for the first time, reaching for anything to make Marcus take him back.It was the wrong step; Marcus' face hardened. He waved a dismissive hand in Kal's direction. "Stop making a scene," he said. "Run back to where you belong."
2.
“It is you,” Marcus said to his back, catching Kal by the elbow as he fetched Lucian's drink from the theater's bar.Kal turned carefully, Lucian's glass of wine in his hand. Marcus still smelled the same, warm and safe and familiar. Kal glanced behind Marcus; Lucian would be angry if he thought he'd caught Kal flirting. "Marcus," Kal said carefully, saying his name to his face for the first time, strange in his own ears even though it had been almost two years since he'd worn a collar. "I thought you were in Aesica," he said, stupid."I was. Mother bought a saltworks, I'm here to manage it," Marcus said, glancing at the glass of wine in Kal's hand, the earrings in his ears. "You look–well." He still looked like a whore, Marcus meant."Friend of yours, Kallius?" Lucian said, making Kal flinch as he came up from behind and put an arm around Kal's waist, pointed. He took the glass of wine from Kal's hand, Marcus frowning."Lucian, this is Marcus," Kal said to his shoes, back tight with tension as the crowd hummed around them. Lucian's hand through his coat felt too heavy, the weight of Marcus' frown on top of it too much to bear."So you're the old master," Lucian said warmly, like he and Marcus were old friends.Marcus glanced at Kal. "A pleasure, I'm sure," Marcus said, in that tone he took when he was displeased but too polite to make a scene. "Kal, I owe you lunch at the very least after everything, if you'd care to–""My housekeeper is quite busy, I'm afraid," Lucian said before Kal could answer. Kal winced; Lucian wouldn't let him forget about that. "Come, darling, intermission's almost over," Lucian said, pulling Kal away. Kal could feel Marcus' frown on his shoulders as they went.Lucian kept a possessive arm across the back of Kal's chair as they took their seats back in his box, Kal careful to keep his eyes on his hands in his lap."I wondered what was taking you so long," Lucian said, conversational."I'm sorry," Kal said to his hands as the house lights went down.Lucian huffed a laugh and leaned towards him. "Hardly your fault. Your master's watching us."Kal glanced up and there was Marcus, frowning unhappily in his own box across from them. Kal's stomach twisted uncomfortably."Come here," Lucian said, twisting a hand in Kal's hair to tug him down to the floor between Lucian's knees. Kal went, hoping it would keep Marcus from doing something foolish to make Lucian angry, like sending Kal his calling card, or worse, trying to invite him to lunch again. "I want him to see who you belong to now."
3.
Kal's hands shook as he poured the big jug of wine into Marcus' cup, Marcus pretending not to see him. Julius had brought Kal to the theater for the first time since buying him from Marcus and Kal had been stupid getting his hopes up. Marcus hardly looked at Kal at all when they arrived, just enough to take in the black eye Julius had given him and decide not to see it. It had only been a few weeks since Marcus sold him to Julius and Kal had stupidly hoped for–something. For Marcus to look at him, for Marcus to say something to Julius, for Marcus to–something. Anything. Instead, Marcus pointedly did not see him, like Kal was just as invisible and disposable as Cyril and Florian had been."Watch what you're doing," Marcus snapped suddenly, making Kal flinch back. Kal had spilled a few drops of wine on his knee, clumsy and stupid with his shaking hands.Julius' hand caught him on his bad side, the side Kal could hardly see with the black eye. Kal dropped to his knees between them, careful to not spill the rest of the jug. Kal tried to get his breathing under control, panicking already at the thought of what Julius would do to him later behind closed doors; he tried not to think about it, tried not to think about Marcus deciding not to see him."Is that really necessary?" Marcus snapped at Julius."You said yourself he needed a bit of discipline. He's much more polite now, aren't you?" Julius said, shaking Kal by the hair. Kal needed to not think about anything or he'd make Marcus even more angry. On stage, the stupid, hateful romance went on; Marcus had always liked that one."Yes, master," Kal said, stupid and empty, his voice still rough from the last time Julius had put hands around his throat.Marcus finally did look at him then, annoyed and distant. He'd never given a damn about Kal.
4.
Kal pulled out the first gray hair he found, and the one after that, and all the ones after that, until there were too many for Marcus to not see. He’d known it was coming as soon as Marcus had his ear clipped, he just hadn’t thought it would come so soon. Kal wasn’t even thirty-five.Kal brought up Marcus’ breakfast the same as he had for the last ten years, ten years as Marcus’ housekeeper and now only the housekeeper and nothing else. The new boy stirred sleepily against Marcus in their bed–what had been their bed–in what had been Kal’s place. Kal set the breakfast tray down vindictively loud, dishes rattling as he scowled at Marcus’ bruising fingerprints all over the boy tucked sweetly against him, wearing Kal’s jewelry.“You’re in a mood again,” Marcus said as he pushed himself sitting.“I’m sorry, master,” Kal said, snide, handing Marcus his paper the same as he had for the last ten years.“Don’t,” Marcus snapped. The boy next to him stirred sleepily again at his tone. Eighteen or nineteen, the same age Kal had been. Impossibly young, impossible to remember being that young and letting himself believe all of Marcus’ stupid romantic nonsense. “You know I hate it when you do that.”“Yes, Marcus, I’m sorry, Marcus,” Kal said as he went back to the breakfast table, in the exact same stupid, obsequious tone Marcus hated.“Kallius,” Marcus said, dangerous. Kal poured Marcus’ coffee, jaw tight. Their hands brushed when Kal handed Marcus his coffee, the closest they ever got anymore. Marcus hadn’t fucked him since the morning after he bought the boy. Since Kal had snapped that they didn't need a houseboy and Marcus had told him he was free to pay his own taxes and dues if he didn't like it. With no trade and no family and nowhere to go, even with his ear clipped Kal was just as free at thirty-five as he'd been at fifteen, more trapped with Marcus than he’d ever been.
5.
Kal made his peace with it by the time Marcus arrived, that he'd taken his one chance to get away and lost it, and Marcus would never allow him another one. Sitting there in the cold gaol, listening to the patrolwomen who'd brought him in, Kal tipped his head back against the wall and wondered if Marcus would finally sell him, more trouble than he was worth. Or hit him. Kal almost wished he would. Better than the thought of Marcus keeping him forever with this between them.Marcus, when he arrived, had spun some story to himself. Kal could see that much as it evaporated from Marcus' face when, instead of arriving to find Kal anxious and apologetic about some terrible misunderstanding, Kal met his look evenly and didn’t stand. He'd had barely a week away from Marcus, enough time to get used to the absence of the collar, and Kal couldn't stomach the thought of letting Marcus pretend–whatever Marcus had told himself that put that worried, hopeful look on his face. That Kal had simply lost his way home, that he'd been kidnapped or led astray by some ruffians, some kind of stupid romantic nonsense that let Marcus pretend he would rescue Kal again and they'd go on as they had before, instead of Kal trying at all cost to get away from him. Kal watched all that flash over Marcus' face in the hard look he gave the gaoler as she brought the keys.Marcus said nothing to Kal, just snapped his fingers like calling a dog to heel. He watched Marcus look him over as he stood, dressed in Marcus' stolen waistcoat and trousers, his cravat, stockings, and shoes gone when they'd searched him first for a collar and then for a brand. Marcus didn’t say anything and Kal didn’t either, following him silently out to the carriage without his shoes, without all the pennies he’d run with. Marcus pushed him down to sit on the floor and said nothing, the silence heavy.At home, Marcus sat in his favorite armchair by the fire, frowning at Kal where he stood in the middle of the carpet. Kal met his look again, refusing to be the meek, submissive thing Marcus wanted him to pretend to be.Marcus picked something up from the side table and tossed it at Kal's feet where it splayed open. Handmaid , hollowed out and empty."I gave you everything you ever asked for," Marcus said finally, voice rough. "I rescued you out of that filthy whorehouse and I never raised a hand to you. And that’s how you repay me," he said, waving a hand at the evidence between them.Kal didn’t have anything to say to that, and Marcus didn’t want to hear it anyway. They looked at each other, the distance between them so much vaster than it had been a week ago.“Come here,” Marcus said finally, snapping his fingers.Kal swallowed and made himself keep looking at Marcus. His throat ached. "No," Kal said finally, his chin up.Marcus' face went even harder at that and there was going to be no going back, not when Marcus knew Kal wouldn't play along anymore. Marcus stood slowly. Crossed the space between them, stepping on Handmaid and breaking its spine. Standing chest to chest, they were closer to the same height than Kal had ever realized, now that he couldn't make himself pretend to be small and obedient anymore, now that Marcus had really seen him."You ungrateful whore," Marcus said, angry for the first time Kal had ever heard. Marcus fisted a hand in Kal's shirt–Marcus' stolen shirt–and shoved him face down across the desk, hard. Marcus' papers and an account book were scattered off the desk. Kal pushed himself up, trying to get away, but Marcus had always had the weight, and the reach, and the strength to do whatever he liked to Kal, he'd just chosen not to use it.Kal tried to swing an elbow back, angrier than he'd ever dared to be, but Marcus caught his wrist and wrenched his arm behind his back, holding him down hard. He was so much stronger than Kal, and Kal had known that from the start, had been so careful to never give Marcus a reason to force him, had always put on the stupid, simpering enthusiasm Marcus liked for fear of exactly this, but Kal was done pretending.He fought, tried to kick and thrash, but Marcus was too strong for him and in the end it didn’t matter whether Kal fought or pretended to like it. It had never mattered.After, Marcus pushed him to the floor like the rest of the trash swept from his desk and Kal, coward that he was, pushed himself as far from Marcus as he could until he was backed against the desk like that would protect him."I hate you," Kal said, traitorous hands and voice shaking.Marcus buttoned himself up, face hard. “I don’t care,” he said finally. “Go clean yourself up.”
+1
Marcus woke to the cold absence of Kal in their bed and reached for him before he was fully awake, groping towards the warm spot where Kal had been. Marcus came fully awake at the sound of Kal startling hard in the study, hands shaking as he fumbled his old silver cigarette case and it fell noisily to the floor."Are you alright?" Marcus asked, pushing himself sitting as he blinked groggily. He hadn't seen Kal smoke in years."I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, m–Marcus," Kal said, soft and very small, kneeling to gather up the cigarettes spilled across the carpet. He flinched hard when Marcus rolled to his feet and fumbled for his own dressing gown.Kal shivered away from him when Marcus stooped to help pick up the scattered cigarettes, shoulders hunched and face turned down like he was waiting to be slapped. "I'm sorry," Kal said again when Marcus handed him the cigarettes. Marcus stood to stretch his back and Kal stayed kneeling."It's fine," Marcus said, holding out a hand to help Kal up. Kal swallowed hard and turned his face away. "Really, Kal, it's fine. We don't have anywhere to be tomorrow, we can lie in. Titus and his fiancee won't even be here for another two days." They'd only just arrived that afternoon at Marcus’ family estate, Kal's first time back since he'd left with the annexation, so that he could do the engagement portraits for Marcus’ nephew and his wife. It was supposed to be a long holiday, Kal and Marcus arrived a few days early so Kal could arrange his easel and whatnot.Kal finally stood, his hand still shaking when he took Marcus' and allowed himself to be helped up. He shivered and said nothing, trying to hide the cigarettes in the cuffs of his dressing gown even though Marcus had just helped him gather them up."Are you alright?" Marcus asked, stepping close to put an arm around Kal's waist. Kal shivered against him, all vibrating tension even though he didn’t pull away. Marcus had anticipated–something, Kal having grown quieter that whole day prior as the carriage finally approached the estate.Kal nodded sharply, still refusing to look at Marcus. "Just dreams," he said finally, voice rough. “Stupid, I’m sorry.”"Oh," Marcus said. It had been three years since Marcus found Kal again, and he was still sometimes caught off guard by the depth of everything still between them that he’d never seen. “Can I touch you?”Kal all but sagged against him at that, his weight sudden and heavy. Marcus put arms around him, resting his chin against Kal’s shoulder as Kal tucked against him.“Do you want to talk about it?” Marcus said. The darkness felt close and pressing, familiar and strange all at once."You, selling me,” Kal said against his chest, small as Marcus tried to keep himself from flinching. “To the whorehouse. Or Julius. You, getting a new boy. You–" Kal's voice broke and he shook his head.“We can leave tomorrow for your mother’s,” Marcus said, holding Kal close. They’d planned to leave for Kal’s family in a few weeks, once the portraits were done. “You don’t have to do the portraits.”“It’s the price of–this, isn’t it,” Kal said without lifting his head. The price of their relationship, he meant. “I’ll be fine.”“It’s the price of my dower,” Marcus said. “I’d rather run a laundry than put you through this.” He pet Kal’s hair, chest aching.“You wouldn’t have–” Kal started, voice thick. “What would you have done if–if you’d known I was going to run?” he said, sounding like he was forcing himself to finish saying it.Marcus rested his cheek against Kal’s hair. Sighed. “I don’t know,” he said, honest. He’d thought about it obsessively in the four years after the annexation and still had no answer. “Tried harder to get your papers. Given you your papers, even if I couldn’t get them signed. I don’t know.”Kal took one deep, shuddering breath and then another, leaning heavily against Marcus as wracking shudders went through him. “I don’t want to talk about this,” Kal said. “I need–I need to not talk about this.”“Alright,” Marcus said, pulling Kal gently back to the bed. Kal let himself be folded back into their bed, shivering like he was fevered. When they were both settled, Marcus brushed Kal’s hair back from his face, frowning at him in the dark. “We can leave in the morning,” Marcus said. “We can leave now, if you want.”Kal shook his head on Marcus’ shoulder, pressing as close as he could and clinging tightly. “Just touch me. Talk to me, so I know it’s you.”Marcus closed his eyes, fingers in Kal’s hair. He sighed and started to recite the oldest translation of the Penelopiad he could remember, the one the pedagogue had set Kal to read all those years ago, the rhythms of it familiar and steady. Not a good choice, not for the nightmares Kal was having, but it was all Marcus’ memory supplied in the pressing dark. Kal relaxed against him anyway, the awful shivering tension slowly easing out of him. Marcus was most of the way to sleep himself before he felt Kal finally ease back into sleep, still holding desperately to Marcus like a lifeline.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Marcus felt strange before he even saw Kal, and should have known before he saw him. Marcus was supposed to have been overseeing the annual estate levy but found he couldn't make sense of his own writing, couldn't read the prior year's notes, and when he finished couldn't recall what he'd done or who he'd spoken to, only that he'd done it. He felt as though he must be drunk, but hadn't had anything to drink and didn't feel unsteady otherwise, except for the gauze of surreality.He forgot about it almost as quickly as the thought occured when he found Kal asleep on the divan in their apartment, in his favorite spot except he wasn't Kal. Or he was Kal, but too young and innocent, swimming in the tunic he'd had on that morning and all his jewelry gone except the collar, too big on his scrawny neck. Eleven or twelve at the most from the look of him.Kal startled awake too quickly for a child, sudden tense wariness at the sound of Marcus closing the door."I'm sorry sir–" Kal said, off the divan immediately with as much space as possible between himself and Marcus, back to the wall. "I didn't mean to fall asleep–master will need me for the rest of the laundry deliveries–""Kal, you're not–" Marcus started, taking a step towards him and disoriented himself."Master will charge you extra for your laundry next time if I'm late, mister, he won't like it if you don't let me go–" Kal started, all sudden childish, empty bluster. It was foolish threat and he knew it, by the look of him; he'd have been more likely to catch a beating himself if he was late than any customer getting charged for laying hands on him, but it was the only threat little Kal had."Kal," Marcus said gently. "You don't work in a laundry anymore. You live here now."Marcus watched Kal's eyes bounce around the room, quickly taking in everything as he took in how much he was trapped, a look Marcus recognized from older Kal but hadn't fully read that way before, and Marcus felt vaguely ill.Kal's whole demeanor shifted as Marcus went from hostile stranger to stranger who owned him, his eyes skittering around the room again. Marcus between him and the door, Marcus in control of his entire small life. "You bought me?" Kal said, very small."I–yes," Marcus said, because he had, at a loss for what else to say."I didn't steal that apple, master, I swear–""Kal, it's fine, you're fine, you're not in trouble," Marcus said, taking another step towards him with his hands out and trying to be gentle. Kal looked no older than Marcus' nephew Titus, all gangly skinny limbs and round baby face even though he looked underfed.Kal nodded sharply with his eyes down on his feet, suddenly much more still than he had been. No longer trying to talk his way out of the room, Marcus realized with a sick lurch; Kal when Marcus bought him out of the brothel had been flirty and canny and looking for a way out."Are you hungry?" Marcus asked, voice rough and unsure what else to do with a skinny eleven year old. "There's lunch."Kal perked up immediately at that, glancing up at Marcus through his lashes. Marcus thought, very far away from himself, that he wouldn't be able to keep Kal like this, but there wasn't anything else Marcus could do with him–he couldn't very well clip a child's ear and just send him on his way. Perhaps Marcus ought to give Kal to Titus, so they'd each have a friend their own age, or–"What–" Bruno said, cutting off that thought as he came in with the lunch tray."Kallius is a little indisposed," Marcus said, as though that encompassed the surrealism of finding a child where an adult ought to be."I can see that," Bruno said tartly as he set down the tray on the breakfast table. "I'll fetch him something decent from the kitchen boys," he said, and all but evaporated.Kal eyed Marcus and the tray of food, his tunic almost slipping off one skinny shoulder as his eyes flicked back and forth. "I worked in a kitchen before," Kal volunteered, offering it like a token in exchange for the food. "I never stole any apples and I can make coffee real good–""I know, Kallius, just come eat," Marcus said, lacking the fortitude to let a skinny child negotiate with him for food.Kal approached warily, sidling up as Marcus sat. Marcus busied himself with making a plate, unnerved by how much more slight and underfed Kal looked up close, all knock kneed with the tunic hanging off him. "That's yours," Marcus said when Kal finally got in arm's reach, handing him the little plate of bread, soft cheese, and the chicken from last night's dinner. Kal all but snatched it from his hands and stood at Marcus' elbow to eat, just out of sight and just out of reach as Marcus fixed his own plate."Over here," Marcus said, pulling Kal by the elbow over to where Marcus could see him. Kal startled hard at the touch, braced for something with his head down until Marcus' attention was off him again. Marcus didn't particularly care for having a child cringe from him like a kicked dog, or the way Kal inhaled everything on his plate like Marcus would snatch it from his hands at any moment; Marcus would have to do something about him if Kal didn't change back soon.Kal finished his plate before Marcus had so much as taken his first bite and then stood there silently with his plate in his hands, biting his lip. Marcus sat back in his chair, watching him. "You can eat more if you're hungry," Marcus said.Marcus didn't care one bit for the way Kal looked over the tray and then glanced at Marcus, weighing his options. Marcus' twelve year old nephew Titus would have taken the chicken drumstick or a pastry without blinking, but Kal clearly weighed up what he thought was for Marcus and what he thought he could take without being scolded. In the end, Kal took the heel of bread with nothing on it, watching Marcus' reaction.Kal flinched again when Marcus sighed, reaching over to put the pastry and drumstick on Kal's plate. Marcus sat back to finish his own lunch, unhappy."You don't do any laundry," Kal said after a while, watching Marcus' hands as he ate. Despite his age, Kal's hands were rough but the nails clean; from the hot wash water, Marcus guessed."No," Marcus agreed.Finished with his own food, Kal shifted from foot to foot, looking around the apartment. "Your wife's a lawyer? Or a pedagogue?" Kal asked, looking around at the books.Marcus laughed, shocked by how charmed he was. Kal smiled uncertainly, some of his baby teeth missing. He had shallow little dimples that he'd lose when he got older. "I'm not married," Marcus said."So you just read books and stuff?" Kal said innocently, looking around the apartment again."Something like that," Marcus agreed with a smile, charmed with little Kal warming up a bit. "I keep house for my sisters.""Huh," Kal said to that. He peered past Marcus out the window to the back courtyard and the noise of Titus playing with some of the helot boys. "I never seen a house so big.""Why don't you take the tray back down to the kitchen," Marcus said, casting around for something to keep Kal busy while Marcus figured out what to do with him. Kal snapped to attention once given a task. "And you can play with the boys in the courtyard after," Marcus said, just to make Kal happy. "But stay in the courtyard and mind Bruno.""Yes master, of course master," Kal said eagerly, without any of the snide annoyance he'd grow into later. He was all but vibrating with excitement when he carried the tray out, Marcus watching him go.Bruno brought Kal back up to the apartment before supper, a heavy hand on his little shoulder. Kal had been changed into a child's tunic, but he'd also acquired dirty knees, a split lip, and a bloody nose."He was fighting some of the kitchen boys," Bruno said."What about?" Marcus demanded. He'd meant to find Neeltie or Apollonia to figure out the Kallius problem, but the time had seemed to pass in no time at all, a jump from one moment to the next.Kal scuffed his dirty bare feet on the carpet, none of his wary but eager deference from before. "Nothing," he said, shoulders tight as he glanced sideways at Bruno."Go fetch dinner," Marcus said to Bruno with a flick of his hand, to get Bruno out of there. Bruno left with a sniff.Marcus looked Kal over, lost with what to do with him. If Titus was caught fighting, he'd have his horse or his books or his marbles taken away until he learned better, but Kal had nothing to take away and Marcus was reluctant to cane his palms like the pedagogue. "You can't pick fights every time you're out of sight," Marcus said."You didn't buy me for the kitchen," Kal said, little voice vibrating with anger.Marcus' ears rang like he'd been slapped. "What?" he demanded, sure he hadn't heard the implication right. Kal glanced at him, eyes red and body tight with fear. "Who told you that?" Marcus demanded, angry and disgusted that the rest of the household could think he'd do such a thing to a child. Because–he hadn't bought Kal for the kitchen, but it was a different thing entirely for someone else to inflict that on Kal as a child, his little shoulders braced for what he thought Marcus was going to do to him."Nobody," Kal said, shrinking away from Marcus like it was true.Marcus grabbed him by the wrist to keep him where he was. "Who said it?" Marcus demanded again, resisting the urge to shake it out of him."Nobody," Kal said desperately, trying to jerk his hand out of Marcus' hold before thinking better of it. "Nobody told me nothing, I'm sorry, I'm sorry master," he said, ducking his head with his voice shaking. He was so small, Marcus standing over him.Marcus released him like he'd been scalded, suddenly realizing how he must look to Kal; looming, threatening, and angry."What did you do to him?" Bruno demanded, coming in with the dinner tray."I–nothing," Marcus said, backing away from Kal like he'd been caught at something. Caught at exactly what Kal was afraid of, absurd because it was true, Marcus hadn't bought him for the kitchen, but Kal hadn't been a child then–"Get him out of here," Marcus said, casting around for some way to deal with Kal's fear of him. "Take him to Jellis and Neeltie, just get him out of here.""Please don't sell me," Kal said before Marcus had even finished speaking, desperately afraid of him and just as desperate to not be sold again. "I'll be good, master, please, I won't–nobody said nothing, I'm sorry–"Bruno put a hand on Kal's little shoulder and pulled Kal against him, scowling at Marcus. "What did you do?" Bruno said again."Nothing, I'm sorry," Kal said even though Bruno had spoken to Marcus, his lip quivering as he hid his face against Bruno's side. Kal clung to Bruno like Marcus was going to go after him, like Bruno would protect him. "I can–I can lift a whole load of laundry by myself, and iron the nice shirts without burning, and, and I never get lost making deliveries–" Kal said, shivering against Bruno's side as he cast around for anything to make himself useful."That's not–" Marcus started, ill."You didn't buy him for a valet," Bruno said like a slap across the face.Kal woke to the sound of Marcus retching, sitting on the side of the bed with his head between his knees. Kal rolled himself sitting and pushed himself across the bed to Marcus.Marcus flinched away from him like he'd been struck, taking a deep, shuddering breath as he shivered away from Kal's touch. "Are you ill?" Kal said, getting up to fetch a damp cloth from the washbasin."No–yes–" Marcus said, head in his hands as he tried to calm his breathing. He flinched again when Kal brought the cloth back and touched his forehead."You haven't got a fever," Kal said, although Marcus was drenched with a cold sweat."Just a bad dream," Marcus said. He wiped his face and neck with the cloth but leaned away when Kal sat beside him."Should I light a lamp? We can sit up for a bit," Kal offered, at a loss.Marcus shook his head, his breathing a little steadier. "Were you afraid of me? Before?" he asked, very quiet."Yes," Kal said, honest. "Of course I was."Marcus made a small sound, hands tight on the damp cloth. "But not now?" he said, almost fearful."No," Kal said. Put a hand on Marcus' shoulder, light and tentative. Marcus shivered through his nightshirt but didn't pull away this time. It came in waves sometimes, when Marcus rethought something from before, saw himself suddenly different, as though he occasionally discovered a mirror that reflected himself differently. Kal didn't always know what to do with it, unsure what new or old piece of Marcus he was seeing now.Marcus finally leaned towards him, tentative in the dark. Kal pulled him back down to their bed and wrapped himself against Marcus' back, stroking his arm and shoulder until Marcus' breathing evened again.