I Married the 'Mad' Heir

Ch 38: The Cookie Taste

They went back into the room. It was quiet and cool after the brightness outside. The heavy curtains were half-drawn, leaving the space in soft, grey shadow.

Abel walked straight to the bedside table. He placed his wooden horse down carefully, making sure its legs were steady. Then he went to the large bed and pulled back the thick duvet and sheets on one side. He held it up, looking at Orion expectantly.

Orion smiled a little. He took off his soft robe and hung it over a chair. He slipped off his shoes. In just his trousers and loose shirt, he slid into the space Abel had made for him. The sheets were cool against his skin.

As soon as Orion was settled, Abel let the covers fall. Then he immediately moved closer. He turned on his side, wrapped a big arm around Orion’s waist, and pulled him in until their bodies were aligned. He buried his face in the curve of Orion’s neck, his nose pressed against the skin there. He inhaled deeply.

”You smell nice,” Abel murmured, his voice muffled against Orion’s shoulder. ”Like outside. And trees. And... you.”

Orion relaxed into the hold. He let his head rest back against Abel’s chest. He could feel the steady thump of Abel’s heart against his back.

”It’s because I was outside,” Orion said softly.

”Mmm,” Abel agreed, nuzzling gently.

They lay like that for a few minutes, just breathing together in the quiet room. Orion could feel the lingering tiredness in Abel’s muscles, the slight tension from the treatment slowly unwinding.

”Was it very bad today?” Orion asked finally.

Abel sighed, his breath warm on Orion’s neck. ”The buzzing machine was loud. It makes my teeth hurt. The man put sticky things on my head again. And he asked me questions.”

”What kind of questions?”

”Silly ones. What year is it. Who is the king. What do two apples and three apples make.” Abel’s tone was flat, bored. ”I told him five apples. He wrote it down. He always writes things down.”

”Did he give you the medicine?” Orion asked. He hated the bitter tonic they made Abel drink. It made him sleepy and dull for hours.

”Yes. It tasted bad. Like dirt and old leaves.” Abel tightened his arm a little. ”I don’t like going there.”

”I know,” Orion whispered. He wished he could stop it. But the Duke insisted.

Another moment of quiet passed. Orion thought about the men in the yard. Their faces. Their stories.

”Those men we met,” Orion began slowly. ”Aster. And the others. Do you... does anything about them feel familiar? From before?”

He felt Abel go still behind him. The nuzzling stopped. Abel lifted his head from Orion’s neck. He was quiet for so long Orion thought maybe he hadn’t understood the question.

Then Abel’s voice came, small and confused. ”No. I don’t remember them.”

He said it like it was a simple fact. Like saying the sky is blue.

Orion’s heart squeezed. It was a physical pain, sharp and sudden, right in the center of his chest. He had known it was the answer. He had seen the lack of recognition in Abel’s eyes. But hearing it said out loud, so plainly, was like a punch. All those stories. All that loyalty. All that love from those men... and Abel didn’t remember any of it. It was gone. Wiped clean.

Orion closed his eyes, pressing back against Abel to hide the sting in his own.

But then Abel spoke again, his voice thoughtful now. ”But I liked them.”

Orion opened his eyes. ”You did?”

”Yeah.” Abel shifted, rolling onto his back but keeping one arm around Orion, holding him close against his side. He stared up at the canopy of the bed. ”They felt... solid. Like good trees. Or strong walls. They looked at me... nice. Not scary. Not pity.” He frowned, searching for the words. ”And when the big one—Jax?—when he looked like he wanted to cry... I felt like I wanted to hug him. To make it better. Isn’t that strange?”

Orion swallowed past the lump in his throat. ”No. That’s not strange.”

”And Friend-Aster,” Abel continued, his tone brightening a little. ”When I did the hand thing. It felt right. Like my hand knew what to do even if my head didn’t.” He turned his head on the pillow to look at Orion. His golden-brown eyes were clear and earnest. ”I want to be friends with them. Can we? Can they come visit?”

Orion reached up and touched Abel’s cheek. ”I think they would like that very much.”

Abel smiled, pleased. Then his expression turned serious again, his brow furrowing. ”Orion?”

”Yes?”

”If... if Friend-Aster came in here right now... and took my horsey...” Abel pointed to the wooden toy on the nightstand. ”I don’t think I’d get angry. I think I’d just be... confused. Maybe a little sad. But not mad.”

He said it like he was confessing something important.

Orion understood. For Abel, anger was a simple, hot emotion. It flared up when he felt threatened or when Orion was hurt. Possessiveness was tied to Orion. But his toys? His things? He didn’t have that same fierce attachment.

”That’s okay,” Orion said softly. ”It’s just a toy.”

”But it’s my toy,” Abel said, as if explaining it to himself. ”And he’s a friend. So... it’s confusing. My head gets fuzzy with this stuff.”

”You don’t have to figure it all out now,” Orion reassured him. He traced the line of Abel’s jaw. ”Just knowing you like them is enough.”

Abel caught his hand and kissed his palm. Then he turned fully onto his side again, facing Orion. He studied Orion’s face in the dim light. His eyes dropped to Orion’s mouth.

Slowly, he leaned in and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to Orion’s lips. It was sweet and chaste. He pulled back an inch, his nose almost touching Orion’s.

He blinked. ”You taste like cookies,” Abel announced, surprised.

Orion couldn’t help it. A laugh bubbled up out of him, short and genuine. The heavy feeling in his chest lightened a fraction. ”That’s because I ate cookies.”

Abel gasped, his eyes going wide. He looked utterly scandalized. ”Without me?”

”You were at your treatment!”

”What kind?” Abel demanded, propping himself up on one elbow. The subject of his missing cookie share was clearly of grave importance.

”Oat biscuits. Ginger ones. Some shortbread.”

Abel’s lower lip jutted out in a spectacular pout. ”I like ginger ones.”

”I’ll save you one next time,” Orion promised, smiling up at him.

”Next time?” Abel’s pout vanished, replaced by curiosity. ”You’re going to eat cookies with them again?”

”Maybe. They invited me to visit. To the training yard.”

Abel considered this. He laid back down, pulling Orion close again so they were nose-to-nose. ”Can I come?”

”If you want to.”

”I want to.” Abel nodded decisively. ”I want to see where my new friends are. And I want a cookie.” He thought for another moment. ”Will they teach you to fight? Loren said he would teach you.”

”He was joking, I think.”

”But what if he wasn’t?” Abel’s eyes were serious now. ”What if you learned? Then if someone tried to push you again, you could...” He made a vague punching motion with his free hand.

”I have you,” Orion reminded him softly.

Abel’s face fell. ”I wasn’t fast enough last time.”

”Hey.” Orion cupped his face. ”That wasn’t your fault. And you’re here now. That’s what matters.”

Abel searched his eyes, then sighed. He nodded, accepting the words but maybe not quite believing them yet. He kissed Orion again, slower this time. Less chaste. When he pulled away, he smiled a little.

”Still taste like cookies,” he whispered.

”Do you like it?”

”Mmm. I like it when you taste like things. Like tea. Or honey. Or cookies. It means you’ve been having treats. That’s good.” He nuzzled Orion’s nose with his own. ”You should have more treats.”

Orion’s heart felt so full it ached. This man. This beautiful, broken, endlessly kind man. He didn’t remember his past, his glory, his friends. But he remembered how to care. He remembered how to love.

”Being here with you is a treat,” Orion whispered back.

Abel’s smile softened. He looked suddenly very young and very tired. The energy from the cookie investigation was fading. The long day and the draining treatment were catching up to him. His eyelids grew heavy.

”Stay right here,” Abel mumbled, his words slurring slightly. ”Don’t go.”

”I’m not going anywhere,” Orion promised.

Satisfied, Abel tucked his head under Orion’s chin, his breathing already deepening. Within minutes, the steady rhythm of sleep took him.

Orion lay awake, held securely in Abel’s arms. He listened to the even breaths. He felt the warm weight of the body wrapped around him.

Outside this room, the world was complicated and cruel. But in here, in this bed, it was simple. There was just Abel, and his cookies, and his new friends who felt like strong trees, and his unwavering need to keep Orion close.

Orion closed his eyes. He focused on the sound of Abel’s heart. On the scent of cedar and warm amber that clung to his skin.

He would save Abel a ginger cookie tomorrow. And maybe, just maybe, he would ask Aster if those fighting lessons were a real offer.