Date: Mon, 12 Sep 2016 05:37:11 -0500
From: Kody Boye <boyekody@gmail.com>
Subject: His Touch of Ice - Part 48

DISCLAIMER:

This is a work of fiction, and contains scenes of graphic violence and
explicit male/male sex. If you are not of the legal age to read this, or
are uncomfortable with this sort of content, please turn back now.

HIS TOUCH OF ICE (The Ice Men, Book 1) is copyright © Kody Boye. All
Rights are reserved.

______________________________________________________________________________

Venturing beyond Guy's flat was completely unnerving. With word having
spread of the impending exalting ceremony in which Elliot Winters' son
would become prince and take a mate, I was under near-constant scrutiny
everywhere I went. Walks outside were met with looks, glares, sometimes
spiteful deceit. Those who worked inside the home would do anything to
avoid me and flat-out ignored any questions posed. The only one who
appeared to give me even the slightest consideration was Amadeo—who,
upon our rare encounters, would give pause to speak to me.

The night before the ceremony—during which time Guy had departed to
alternate corridors to abstain from physical contact—I wandered into the
downstairs kitchen and found Amadeo drinking what appeared to be a glass of
wine, his eyes lost in the thunderstorm taking place outside.

I cleared my throat, wincing at a bark of thunder, and tapped my fist on
the doorjamb. "Sir?" I said.

He turned his head to look at me. "Jason," he said.

"Can I come in?"

He gestured at me with a wave of the hand. "Would you like something to
drink?"

"You don't know the half of it," I said.

He pulled the stopped bottle from the opposite counter and lifted, awaiting
my approval before pouring me a glass. "How have you been?" he asked as he
slid the glass toward me.

"Better," I said. Amadeo watched me lift the glass to my lips and
drink—probably more than I should have at once, considering my low
tolerance, but I didn't care. I slicked the back of my hand over my lips
and forced a smile. "Sorry."

"No need," he said. His chest rose and fell, as if struck with the loss of
air. The glass of wine returned to his lips shortly after. "You appear
troubled."

"Not very often you're put in a situation like this."

"But you agreed."

"Yes," I said. "I have."

There wasn't anything to say in regards to my decision. Freedom of choice
expressed many latitudes—to do good things, to do bad things, to do
things that walked along the neutral boundary erected only in the minds of
those individuals who wished to seek fit the notion of right or wrong. For
most people, my decision would've been seen as a complete denial of self. I
saw it as a liberation.

"Amadeo," I said.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Did you feel this way when you were made into a Kaldr?"

The man's lips pursed, lifting the fan-shaped spread of facial hair along
his chin. Contempt wasn't an emotion I often saw on the Spanish man's
face. Rather, his confidence came in his subtlety. The way his lips were
held, the way his jaw was set, the way his eyes were always direct and
unfaltering—now, though, he appeared just as I imagined I did: lost,
confused, and completely alone in the world.

Since I didn't expect him to respond, I lifted my wine to my lips and let
my eyes stray to the window, in an attempt to see just what it was he'd
been looking at before I'd entered the room.

I saw it clearly—almost plain as day: the moon, not yet full, but
nearing its total completion.

"Of course I was scared," Amadeo finally said.

My eyes returned to the man's face. Upon it rested relief, spelled clearly
in his softened eyes and his lightened expression.

"I wasn't nearly as fortunate as Guy's father when it comes to past
history," he said, refilling his glass of wine and leaning forward to face
me head-on. "Whereas Elliot fled to eventually find the Americas due to
invasion, I arrived due to conquest."

He took a grand sip from his glass, as if to placate himself of any guilt
that might've come from opening the closet and bringing out the old
skeletons. "I won't go into details," he said. "All I'll say is that,
during the height of the Aztec empire, I arrived with a number of other
Spaniards and set into motion the events that history now knows as the
Spanish conquest."

"You were with—"

"Cortez himself," Amadeo nodded. He finished the wine and then started for
another, but stopped when he couldn't keep his hand from shaking. "Long
story short: I participated in one of the most horrible events in human
history, was so wracked with guilt that I could barely stand it, and fled
through Central America until I eventually found the Norwegian Kaldr
settled along the east coast."

"But pilgrims didn't arrive until—"

"One-hundred years later. Yes. I understand."

"But if there'd been Europeans in the New World before the Pilgrims,
wouldn't it have been—" I paused when it hit me. Amadeo's somber smile
only further solidified my notion. "It wouldn't've even mattered," I said.

"Because the Kaldr would not have wanted anyone to find them," he said. He
stopped the bottle and set it to the side. "I don't feel it necessary to
discuss my transformation, if that is all right. It's personal to
everyone."

"I know. Don't worry."

"But yes—I was afraid. Deathly so, in fact. But my condition wouldn't
have allowed me any other choice. I fell ill, was on the verge of death,
and was saved by Elliot Winters on the night of the great moon. That is
that."

I nodded. Setting my feet on the floor, I pushed myself off the stool and
backed away from the counter. "Thank you for your time," I said.

"You need not be worried, Jason. Guy is a good man. I'm sure you already
know that."

"Yes sir. I do."

"Don't hesitate to ask if you need anything. I want this to be as
comfortable as possible."

"Thank you."

Amadeo bowed his head and spun to return the wine to its shelf.

While I made my way out of the kitchen and back toward the stairs, thoughts
of Amadeo's past continued to haunt me.

I'd been given a choice.

Though love—or, at least, what I assumed was love—had bound Elliot
and Amadeo, it had been death that had forced upon them the necessary
choice.

I closed my eyes.

The stairs creaked beneath my weight.

Outside, the light rain pattered on.

I sighed.

Nothing was holding me here.

I had a choice.

When I stopped to consider how many people hadn't, it only solidified that
I was staying for the right reasons.

I couldn't be afraid now.

This was my future.

____________________________________________________________________________
If you enjoyed this installment of HIS TOUCH OF ICE, consider emailing the
author with your thoughts or donating to him via Paypal at
boyekody@gmail.com. You can also download the novel for free on Smashwords,
Amazon Kindle, or any other major eBook retailer, or buy the Audible
version online via Amazon.com. You can visit the author online at
www.kodyboye.com.