Rise: A Gay Fairy Tale (5 page)

As the torch returned to full strength, Rion commanded, “Take if off.”

The Outsider reached up, but hesitated, his fingers frozen in midair. Then his shoulders drooped and he hunched into himself even further as he snatched the cap from his head and dropped it to the floor.

Rion couldn’t stifle his gasp, which echoed through the mask. In the torchlight, the man’s hair glowed like the embers of a fire, each strand seeming to shine with color. It was unlike anything Rion had ever seen.

“I know.” The man’s voice was ragged. “It’s…”

Only one word came to Rion’s mind.
Beautiful
.

“Hideous,” the man finished.

Rion blinked behind his mask. Yes. Yes, of course it was hideous. What he been thinking? The man was repellent in every way. No matter if his hair was the color of the deepest sunsets. “Clean yourself.”

The Outsider slowly peered over his shoulder and turned. Rion’s breath caught in his throat. The same burnished hair was sprinkled across his lean, muscled chest, and gathered in a thatch at his groin. And nestled there was a long, thick cock that made Rion’s loins tighten. The others he’d frightened away over the years had been boys. But this Outsider was every inch a man.

Rion watched through the crack in the door as the man scrubbed and rinsed himself. The Outsider’s pale skin was soon reddened, but he didn’t seem to mind, and his shivering had ceased. A gasp escaped the man’s lips as he poured a cup of water over his head, darkening his red locks.

Rion shifted uncomfortably beneath his cumbersome cloak and resisted the urge to press his hand against his swelling, traitorous shaft. The Outsider was clean now, his skin gleaming. In the faint light, Rion thought he could make out freckles dotting the man’s thighs. He wondered what they would feel like under his fingertips…

Enough!

He tossed clean breeches and a tunic into the cell and yanked on his thick gloves. “Face the wall.” The Outsider did as he was told and Rion collected the man’s clothes to burn.

“My name is Jack. If I could only explain?”

Rion opened his mouth and closed it again. He was so surprised by the question that he couldn’t think of an appropriately terrifying response. He tossed the pot out of the cell, where it landed with a deafening
clang
without needing to be amplified. He snarled, “Shut your mouth or I’ll slice out your tongue!”

Slamming the door behind him, Rion twisted the key in the lock. He stalked away to go dress and figure out what to do with his incredibly troublesome prisoner.

There was only darkness. As the minutes—
hours?
—passed, he could barely make out a line of faint light under the door. With no window, Jack had no idea what time it was. He huddled in the corner, body aching and mind spinning. What was the giant waiting for? The few who’d made it to the castle in Jack’s lifetime had quickly returned after being frightened away or beaten. At this point Jack welcomed that outcome if it would put an end to the waiting.

For a desperate moment, he wondered if he might stand a chance of rescue. He startled at his own harsh laugh echoing on the dank stone. Who would even know he’d gone? Certainly not his family. Perhaps the baron’s foreman might notice his dung hauler was absent from the fields, but Jack would just be replaced without another thought.

The only one who might know of Jack’s desire to climb the beanstalk was Adair, and he’d likely long forgotten. Even if he hadn’t, it mattered not. Jack had ceased being of any importance to Adair years ago.

There was a faint thump from somewhere nearby, and Jack opened his eyes. The strip of light remained below the door, and after a moment, a shadow crossed it. The giant coming to teach Jack a lesson? This selfish beast who hoarded his treasure—who was he to keep Jack locked up? Why should Jack just sit back and wait as always? What did he have to lose?

It was time to take his fate in his own hands.

The element of surprise was the only weapon Jack possessed. As the key scraped in the lock, he leapt to his bare feet. He was tired of being the plaything of others. He would take charge of his destiny this time, or die trying.

As the door opened, Jack sprang forward and slammed full body into his captor, driving him to the floor. Blinking, he stared down at the beast. No, at the
man
. For he stood only a few inches taller than Jack. He realized that a grotesque mask and some kind of huge cloak gave him the illusion of a terrible countenance and great height, but it was only that—an illusion. This devil was far from a giant!

After a stunned moment, they grappled for dominance. Jack hammered with his fists, the man’s leather mask making it difficult to injure him. The devil roared, and Jack’s ears rung as the noise reverberated around him.

They rolled and wrestled. Jack reached blindly for anything he could employ as a weapon. His fingers brushed the iron pot he’d used earlier to clean himself, and he grasped for it desperately as the false giant straddled him. Lunging, he grabbed the pot and swung it up against the side of the man’s head.

As his captor toppled over and slumped to the floor, motionless, Jack was partly trapped beneath his body, and he shimmied out, kicking himself away. The beast didn’t so much as twitch, and for a moment panic shrieked in Jack’s veins. God, he didn’t want to
kill
the beast.

Heart thumping, Jack crawled over, the pot still in hand lest he need to brandish it again. It was hard to tell under the heavy cloak, but the man’s chest still seemed to rise and fall. Curiosity getting the better of him, Jack yanked the man’s mask from his head.

Breath stuttering in his chest, Jack took in the most beautiful face he’d ever seen.

A strong jaw and high cheekbones sculpted the handsome features. His nose was straight, his lips plump and ripe. He had dark, slightly curling hair kept short that brought to mind a cherub, and stubble covered his chin and neck. Jack wondered what color his eyes were.
With a face so fair, he must truly be the devil
. Jack reached for him, but snatched his hand back before touching. What was he doing?
Run!

Murky sunlight swallowed by the gray gloom of the castle showed Jack the way back to the portal. At the edge of the opening, he knelt and peered down at the tip of the stalk. Seeing the distance he’d leapt churned his stomach. He needed a rope.

He glanced back the way he came, but all was still
. What if he needs help? What if he dies?
There didn’t appear to be other living souls in the castle, or Jack thought they would have come running at the earlier cacophony.
What am I going back to?
He thought of Inga and swallowed thickly.
Nothing. I’m going back to nothing. A debt I can’t repay
.

For too long he’d been at the mercy of others. For too long he’d meekly accepted his fate. He needed to find the treasure. He would escape not only the castle, but the valley far below.

And the devil would help him.

Chapter Four

Rion woke to find himself tied to a bare bed on a thin mattress in the corner of a small, windowless room. After a moment’s disorientation, he recognized it as the dungeon.

Locked in my own dungeon
.

Shame coursed through him, and tasted bitter on his tongue. It was followed closely by fury. This was his thanks for not throwing the Outsider out of the portal and skewering him with the damn beanstalk. Then terror ripped through him. He was discovered. His disguise was stripped from him. After generations of guarding the treasure and keeping the tale of the giant alive, he had failed. He didn’t know whether to scream or weep.

He struggled to organize his thoughts. Where had the small bed come from? Likely the old servants’ quarters down the hallway. It was barely big enough to hold him, and didn’t have tall posts like the other beds in the castle. But it did have a knob on each corner to which the Outsider had bound Rion’s ankles and wrists.

His head throbbed and his throat was hoarse. He wasn’t used to talking, let alone roaring and shouting. Movement from across the room caught his eye. Turning his head he sought the source of it, taking in the dank walls and the bare floor. He went rigid when he saw his cloak in a heap, and he lifted his gaze to find the Outsider watching from the corner, his deep blue eyes cautious and…curious?

Rion roused completely, bucking up and growling. A small knife rested in the man’s belt, and Rion recognized it as his own dagger. Tugging desperately with his legs and arms, the ropes chafed his skin and he realized he was indeed firmly bound to the bed. He pulled and yelled, using his full body strength to try to rip himself free—to break the wooden frame and do whatever it took to get loose of his restraints. But to no avail.

Falling back on the mattress, he glared at the Outsider, who kept his distance and spoke with an attempt at authority that didn’t quite ring true.

“Tell me where the treasure is.”

“Never.”

“Tell me where it is and I’ll go. I only require a small amount.”

“Over my dead body, you worthless, thieving scum.” Rion spat to punctuate his sentiments.

“Then we are at a stalemate.” The Outsider took a breath and blew it out, rubbing a hand over his shining hair, which drew Rion’s gaze despite himself. “What is your name?”

Rion shifted his head and stared at the ceiling, lips compressed.

“Truly, you are not much of a giant.”

Rion roared, but it sounded ridiculous even to his own ears without his mask to amplify the sound.

The man took the knife in hand and put steel in his voice, as if mimicking someone else’s fearless commands like a child at play. “Tell me!”

Rion growled low, but didn’t jerk against his restraints further. There was no use, and it was humiliating to struggle before this Outsider. He decided on a different tact, closing his eyes and yawning widely. “I think I’ll have a nap.” For a moment there was only silence, and then quick footsteps and cold steel against Rion’s throat. He jerked open his eyes.

The Outsider’s arm trembled, his nostrils flaring. “I’m the one in charge.
Tell me your name
.”

Considering he was being held captive in his own home, Rion felt a strange flicker of sympathy at the man’s desperation. He relented before he could think better of it. “Rion.”

“Rion.” The Outsider straightened up and returned the knife to his belt. “As I said before, I’m Jack.”

“Such a pleasure to meet you, thief.”
Jack
. It was an annoyingly pleasing name. He glanced down at Jack’s feet, now clad in Rion’s own slippers, although they were clearly too large. “I see you’re making yourself at home. I’d fetch you a warm cider, but I’m rather indisposed.”

“Your home is cold and drafty.” Jack frowned. “With all your riches, why do you not live in more comfort?”

Rion clenched his jaw. “My apologies if the accommodations aren’t up to your standards, thief.”

“I am not a thief. One cannot steal what is hoarded in greed.” However, his voice wavered, as though unconvinced of his argument.

“You’ve stolen my shoes and now my feet are bare and chilled. What else are you going to steal, Outsider?”

“I need the treasure. Just some of it. I’ll only take what I need.” He bent to the cloak and examined it.

“Stop! Stop at once!” Rion strained against his bonds once more, but it was useless. He watched the man at his task, and again Rion’s gaze was drawn to the Outsider’s orangey-red hair. It looked fine and soft, and Rion wondered what it would feel like to touch it just once.

But the Outsider Jack ignored him, and approached with the cloak. Rion tensed as he neared, but Jack only spread the heavy wool over him, tucking it securely around his feet and chest. Wary, Rion didn’t know what to say, and stayed silent.

“As I was saying, I only need a small amount. It would be nothing to you. I promise.’

Rion laughed. He had not been trained since birth to guard the family legacy to give up the secret so easily. “Well, if you
promise
, of course I’ll tell you immediately.”

Exhaling in obvious frustration, Jack turned on his heel. At the door he glanced back. “I’m going to find the treasure with or without your help. In the meantime, I hope you’re comfortable.” He slammed the door behind him, and the key scraped in the lock.

Going slack against his rough bonds, Rion stared at the dark ceiling, breathing deeply to remain calm.

Bested by an Outsider
.

He was a disgrace to his family. They’d dedicated their lives to protecting the treasure and teaching him to do the same—yet here he was, at the mercy of a corrupt and depraved intruder. This man was a filthy creature. An immoral animal. Yet there was something about him that shook Rion at his core. He had to admit the sight of his firm body reawakened Rion’s dormant desires. His blue eyes were like the depths of the clearest lake, and
that hair
.