Hyacinth by Elle Porter

Author:Elle Porter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Elle Porter
Published: 2022-01-27T02:30:28+00:00

When Leon hunted, he started at the mouth of the river that parted the forest. He followed the path alongside the riverbank, snatching a bit of dried reed to chew on. His bow tapped against his back with each step until he entered the forest and tiptoed into the brush.

It was the morning of the solstice festival. Part of him was irritated that Finn volunteered his contribution—Leon wasn’t an expert hunter by any means. But Finn’s pleading eyes, his folded hands, had done enough to convince him. After all, one kill would be more than enough to feed the village.

The air was heavy and familiar, and despite the path being his regular hunting route, Leon had the distinct impression that he was meant to be standing in the forest at this exact point in time, where the sun was just setting the leaves aflame with morning.

A rustle nearby caught Leon’s ear, and he turned his eyes in the direction of the sound before he edged through the brush. He should have seen signs of a deer, but nothing.

Then he heard laughter, low and ale-worn.

Leon crouched lower and parted the long branches of a bush. His gasp was lost to the wind.

The ground at the base of a tree had been covered with a quilt, and a portly man was seated with his back leaned against the trunk, his eyes half-lidded. Leon vaguely recalled the man’s name—Martin—and that he had worked at the Adelson’s farm for years.

But the aging farmhand wasn’t what made Leon’s heart race. Seated in front of Martin, face forward, was Finn. His own gentle laughter mixed with the older man’s as he held out a bottle of wine and asked, “More?”

“Of course,” Martin murmured, gazing at Finn as if he were the north star itself. He drank straight from the bottle as Finn stood and removed his clothes. “Gods, you’re pretty,” Martin said, wiping a stripe of wine from his lip as Finn stood naked above him.

Finn hummed, then tilted his head down toward the man. “What are you waiting for, my dear?”

“Right, right,” Martin said, setting the bottle aside and reaching for his trousers.

Fiery possession burned in Leon’s chest, and he wanted to dart from the brush and interrupt, put an end to whatever was happening. But he kept still and silent, helpless as he watched the man he’d been pining for straddle the aging farmhand.

Leon finally turned away, closing his eyes as if that would mute the sounds of pleasure. Finn’s moans had been a velvet bath to his ears, but now it was the screech of crows in a barren field. And Martin, with his drunkard grunts, pawing at Finn like a mule in the dirt.

“Yes, yes,” Finn said, and Leon darted from the overgrowth in the opposite direction.

If they’d heard him, they made no indication, and Leon ran until he only heard the rustle of leaves in the wind.

He hardly remembered killing the deer, his mind in a fog. He must have nocked his bow, but the sight of Finn on top of another man burned in his brain.

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