Elven Treasure 2

 

Jason's Fortune

Though Jason Rampling is glad that his brother Mark has found
love with Dorian Fairchild, he longs for a boyfriend of his own. One

day, an accident in the woods propels him into a strangely
anachronistic world where he is cared for by Graylin Stonetamer, a
mysterious young man who studies magic and seems to know

quite a bit about Jason, Mark, and their family history. Something
about him even reminds Jason of Dorian, though he can’t quite

explain what.

While he searches for a way home, Jason finds himself falling for

Graylin, who eagerly returns his passion. Yet as the two grow
closer, Jason begins to suspect that Graylin is keeping a secret

that may make it impossible for them to build a life together.

Genre: Alternative (M/M or F/F), Contemporary, Fantasy
Length: 23,784 words

JASON’S FORTUNE

Elven Treasure 2

Cassandra Pierce

EROTIC ROMANCE

MANLOVE

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

 

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JASON’S FORTUNE
Copyright © 2012 by Cassandra Pierce
E-book ISBN: 978-1-61926-911-8

First E-book Publication: July 2012

Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

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Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com

 

Letter to Readers

Dear Readers,

If you have purchased this copy of Jason’s Fortune by Cassandra
Pierce from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you.
Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy

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DEDICATION

For my fellow Siren authors Hanna Hart, Rachel Clark, and Diana

Sheridan. Thanks for all your support and suggestions, as always!

 

JASON’S FORTUNE

Elven Treasure 2

CASSANDRA PIERCE

Copyright © 2012

Chapter 1

“Look,” Wyl Silverhand said with a smirk. He pointed past a

clump of fragrant honeysuckle. “Your human is back.”

Graylin looked up from the delicate agrimony tendrils he’d been

sorting through. Though he tried not to show any reaction that would
give Wyl fodder for teasing, Graylin felt his heart stall in his chest.
Sure enough, the human they’d spotted for three days in a row had
returned, walking in and around the tangled vegetation that twisted
and bloomed on the opposite side of the stream. In the past, he’d
carried a book or a map with him, and the two of them had watched
while he surveyed the land and made markings on the paper. He
seemed about their own age, in human years at least. The contrast
presence of writing materials suggested that he might be a student,
like them. Yet what lessons could he learn from walking in the forest?

The human remained oblivious to their presence, of course, which

made it easier for Graylin to stare. He never tired of gazing at the
human’s well-defined cheekbones, the midnight-black hair he wore
short, unlike the men in their own community did, and the graceful
limbs he kept encased in long sleeves and coarse blue leggings.
Graylin had noticed the way those same leggings gave way to the seat
of his breeches, too, the strange material worn and faded so that it

Jason’s Fortune

9

seemed to melt around his lean hips and other, more private areas of
his body. He hoped Wyl hadn’t caught him staring at such things, but
he doubted he could be so lucky. Wyl noticed everything.

Today, the human was walking around pushing an odd, stick-like,

metal object in front of him. As he slid it over the ground, his face
took on a faraway expression, as though he were dreaming. Two
strange cylindrical objects covered his ears. Graylin had never seen a
display quite so odd.

“What is he doing?” he asked Wyl, standing and moving closer to

the stream to get a better look. “What is he carrying with him? Is that
an aye-Pod?” He pronounced the unfamiliar word slowly and
carefully.

Wyl laughed. Graylin noticed that his collection bag lay empty at

his feet. Master Freme would be angry about that. “Don’t be daft.
iPods are no bigger than the palm of your hand. That’s the point.
They’re easy for the humans to carry.”

“How do you know so much of iPods?” Graylin asked with a

scowl. Such gadgets were unknown among his people. They had none
of the strange substance, which he heard others call electricity, to run
them with, anyhow.

“I know because I have seen them. The last time I sneaked into

the human village, I even pinched one and tried it out. It sent a terrible
cacophony between my ears. But after a moment or two, I liked it.
The Hall of Learning would be a much better place if everyone had
them.”

“Master Freme would never allow that.” Such talk unnerved

Graylin, though Wyl never shied from discussing forbidden things
and planning mischief. “You ought to stop sneaking into the village,
you know. If he finds out, he will forbid us altogether from leaving
the Hall without him.”

Wyl’s cheeks reddened. “Master Freme does not need to hear of

everything I do. And how would he, anyway, unless someone tells
him?”

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Cassandra Pierce

“He won’t know, I guess,” Graylin said, lowering his gaze back to

the agrimony.

“Good.” Wyl brightened. “You wouldn’t want him to ban me.

Because you can come with me next time.”

“I don’t know.” Graylin fidgeted, uncomfortable with the idea of

walking freely among humans, perhaps pretending to be one of them.
Their ways were so strange, from everything he’d heard. Some of
them possessed violent tempers, virtually unknown among the elven.
Yet their world also contained many wonders, he was sure—among
them the male who had captured his attention.

In fact, that very human had now paused at a particular spot only a

few yards from the stream, running his strange device over and over a
certain clump of weeds.

“What is he doing?” Graylin asked.
Wyl thought for a moment before answering. “I suspect he’s

reading the earth. Humans don’t have magic, of course, so they must
use many odd devices. No doubt some sort of sound is coming out of
those bits on his ears.” He shook his head. “Pitiable fools, aren’t they?
They cannot make their gold—they must hunt along the ground for it,
like swine searching for truffles.”

“That is a rather unkind remark,” Graylin retorted. His face grew

hot. “They cannot help who and what they are.”

“Indeed not,” Wyl agreed, though his smirk never wavered. “We

are prisoners to our names as well as our natures. You and I are proof
of that, Stonetamer.”

Graylin sighed. The truth Wyl spoke of weighed heavily on his

mind each day, and more so now that Inspection Day was fast
approaching. The two of them would represent many generations of
Silverhands and Stonetamers in front of the entire Hall of Learning,
and as yet they had little or nothing to show for their illustrious
heritage.

“I suppose we are,” he admitted.

Jason’s Fortune

11

Together they watched the human lean his device against his

thigh, take a tiny book from his breeches pocket, and jot something
down. Presently he wandered off into the overgrown forest. Before
long, he had disappeared from view.

A sudden clapping sound startled them both from their reverie.

They turned at the same time to find that Mynogan Freme had come
up behind them and whipped his hands together for the express
purpose of startling them.

“You two gentlemen have overstepped your bounds,” he snapped,

his regal face taut with impatience. He spoke with genteel
moderation, as he always did, but Graylin suspected he longed to
shout at them or perhaps even shake them. “May I inquire why? I
specifically ordered you not to approach the stream.”

“We had no choice,” Wyl argued. “The best flora grows in this

spot and no other. Can you not smell the wild mint? ’Tis the water
that strengthens the stalks.” Turning his head slightly, he offered
Graylin a discreet wink. Luckily, Master Freme did not seem to notice
the bawdy wordplay.

“We didn’t breach the barrier,” Graylin said.
“See that you do not.” Freme’s long fingers rubbed the bridge of

his aquiline nose in frustration. “Since you are already here, I will
allow you to continue—this once. Now collect what I asked you to
and get back to the Hall to study. I shall be grading your choices and
examining you on the properties of each plant later.”

He stepped back to supervise, folding his arms. Grumbling, the

two young men got to work. Crouching, they gathered sacks of
toadflax and hogweed, plucked vibrant poppies and sharp thistles, and
dug up mandrake and orris roots.

“I still wonder what that human was looking for,” Graylin

whispered.

“Something more valuable than this rot,” Wyl twisted an angry

fist around the mouth of his bag and cursed. “Why can’t we spend our

12

Cassandra Pierce

days hunting for better things? Things we could get from the village,
for example.”

Graylin smiled. “Like iPods?”
“Perhaps.” Wyl’s grin returned. “You say we are here because of

tradition. Perhaps ’tis time we made our own tradition.”

“Hush, Wyl. Master Freme will hear you.”
“Come on. You don’t enjoy this any more than I do. You’re not

even good at it! Freme loses his breath carping at you! How many of
his precious bolt heads must you break before he gives up trying to
teach you?”

Graylin blushed. The constant loss of glassware in Freme’s

instructional laboratory had become a continual source of
embarrassment to him. “I shall tame it by and by. That is my name,
after all—Stonetamer.”

“So your grandfather was good at such tasks. Mine was as well.

Why should that determine what we do today?”

“Because it’s the way we have always done things!” Cheeks

flushing, Graylin bent to the task and pulled off two flower heads
much more forcefully than necessary. From the corner of his eye, he
noticed the vegetation swaying in the distance. The human was
moving around again. Graylin longed to cry out to him, to meet his
eyes, to wave at him. Yet the unseen barrier between their worlds
would keep them forever hidden from his sight.

* * * *

Jason felt his skin prickle, as if an insect had skittered across the

back of his neck while he was looking down at his metal detector. He
put his hand to the spot, but he fortunately found nothing unpleasant
beneath his collar. It must have been the breeze, or perhaps the stray
tendril of a plant.

Next, he was sure he’d heard a noise—almost a murmur of voices,

carried on the summer air from far away. He looked up and squinted

Jason’s Fortune

13

into the thicket behind him and then turned to the bubbling stream on
his other side. Yet he spotted no one in either location.

Maybe the solitude was affecting his mind. As much as he loved

the Sidwell estate, and never tired of exploring its grounds even after
more than a year of residence, he had to admit there was something
creepy about the overgrown, primeval forest that surrounded the
house and the manicured lawns. He could see why the people in
earlier, more superstitious centuries had called the place Seidweald,
the enchanted wood. He also understood why they might have been
eager to bury their worldly treasures in a haunted place few of their
contemporaries would dare to dig up.

Sadly, his research and hunting hadn’t turned up anything worth

fetching a shovel for. Even his new metal detector, which he’d put
such faith in, had lighted on only a few bottle caps and an old pair of
scissors, probably lost in a gardening mishap long ago. Now he’d
wasted another two hours and had nothing to show for it but muddy
boots and a rash on one wrist, the result of either insect bites or acidic
plants. His mouth felt dry, and he longed for tea. On the other hand,
he was in no hurry to head back to the house, where Mark and Dorian
were waiting.

The two of them had been at it again all morning—flirting,

touching, and speaking to one another in soft, playful tones Jason
found more than a little cloying. Though he had to admire his brother
for keeping the romance going after living with Dorian for eighteen
months, he wasn’t sure how much more of the love fest he could bear
to watch. He didn’t feel jealous—at least, not on a conscious level.
Throughout his four years at Cambridge, he’d steered clear of
relationships with either gender and concentrated on his studies. Now
he had his degree in hand, but he was still alone. Jason couldn’t
decide whether that should make him relieved or concerned.

Slinging his metal detector over his shoulder, he set off for home.

Sure enough, Mark and Dorian were in the dining room, clearly
having just rolled out of bed, coffee and toast spread in front of them.

14

Cassandra Pierce

They leaned together, Mark’s arm slung across the back of Dorian’s
chair, their lips almost touching as they talked. Jason cleared his
throat as he came into the room and took a seat.

“There you are,” Mark said, leaning back from Dorian without the

slightest trace of self-consciousness. “Did you manage to locate the
lost columns of Stonehenge in the garden yet?”

“I found a few things,” Jason said with a deliberate air of mystery.

He wasn’t exactly fibbing, after all. Bottle caps and scissors surely
counted as “things.” At least some of his pre-law classes were coming
in handy. “Nothing I’m ready to talk about yet.”

“Well, that does sound intriguing,” Dorian said.
“I don’t see why it’s so hard to believe,” Jason retorted. “Those

gold coins Uncle Edwin stashed—he must have found them
somewhere. Why couldn’t there be more?”

“I don’t think they came from the ground,” Mark said, exchanging

a glance with Dorian. “And I don’t think you’ll find any others. Still,
no harm in looking, if you enjoy tramping about in the dirt.”

The arrival of Anthony, their only servant, with fresh tea and

warm croissants for Jason thankfully ended that topic of conversation.

“Dorian and I were talking about going to London for dinner and

an excursion. Want to come along? There’s a new club I’ve been
hearing about, and I want to check it out.”

“I don’t know,” Jason said. He wasn’t surprised that Mark wanted

to take his lover out on the town. The earl had been buying Dorian
expensive clothes all winter, replacing the strange hippie-like garb
he’d shown up in. For his part, Dorian was happy to promenade
around the estate like a peacock in designer feathers. No doubt they
were eager to show their happiness off to the world—or to the gay
scene in London, at least.

“It’s a mixed club,” Mark said quickly, as if sensing his thoughts.

“Not everyone there is gay. You won’t be uncomfortable, I promise.”

“That’s not it. You know I don’t care who people love. Loud

music and drinks, though…it’s just not my scene.”

Jason’s Fortune

15

“Come on. You’ve been through worse at university, surely.

Besides, we never really celebrated your graduation properly.” Mark
stared at his brother, who remained unconvinced. “Tell you what. We
can stop at some bookshops, and you can buy whatever you want.
Maybe you’ll find something to help with your treasure hunt…or
some of those guides to getting into law school.”

Jason bristled. “All right. I’ll come along, but only if you stop

sounding like Mum. I told you, I haven’t made up my mind about
becoming a solicitor yet. I want to take some time off to enjoy the
estate.”

“No one is forcing you. It can’t hurt to plan ahead, though,” Mark

pressed.

“That’s just it. I don’t want to plan anything yet. I want to enjoy

myself for a bit. All my life, I’ve been shuffled from one expensive
school to another without even a moment to breathe. It’s different for
you—you don’t have to work at anything, now that you’re an earl
with Uncle Edwin’s stash of gold, and Dorian to help you spend it.
What do I have? Not a single bloody moment to myself.”

Mark sighed. “I have a right to worry about you, don’t I? As the

earl, and as your older brother, I’m responsible for your future.”

“The hell you are. I plan to make my own way in the world, thank

you very much.”

“Why not leave this discussion for later?” Dorian suggested. Jason

took the opportunity to cram his mouth full of breakfast pastries
before he said something unkind. His brother had a way of pushing
his buttons, no matter how hard he tried to remain calm. “Right now,
the only future we should talk about is this club we’re going to
tonight. I’m looking forward to it.”

Jason rolled his eyes as Dorian and Mark exchanged a love-struck

smile. “Think I’ll go and have a bath,” he announced.

* * * *

16

Cassandra Pierce

The club was more or less what Jason had expected—loud, awash

with flashing and rotating red and blue lights, and filled to every
corner with men. Though Mark had said the place catered to a mixed
crowd, Jason saw very few women, and in truth, he felt no interest in
them anyway. As he always had at school, he watched the men. These
blokes seemed different from the shy scholars and insecure
undergraduates he’d known at college. These men were bold,
forceful, not the least bit ashamed of their bodies and eager to flaunt
their moves on the dance floor. Some danced without shirts, sweat
gleaming on the curves of their hard-muscled torsos. Jason found
himself stunned by their beauty and the raw force of their passions.

“So,” Mark asked in a guilty voice, “do you mind if Dorian and I

dance?”

Jason shrugged. In truth, he was eager to be rid of the lovebirds

for a while so he could explore the place on his own. “Go ahead. I can
take care of myself.”

“Just sit at the bar and get a drink. No one will bother you.”
“Don’t worry. I can handle it.”
Mark still looked worried, but Dorian dragged him off before he

could say anything else. While they moved off onto the floor, Jason
seated himself at the bar and ordered a lager. He didn’t really want it,
but it gave him an excuse to sit quietly for a moment and observe his
surroundings while he pretended to drink.

For a few minutes, he watched Dorian and Mark twist around in

the middle of the crowd. Dorian moved with a grace and finesse he
had never seen before. He was surprised that his brother showed some
impressive moves, too. When had the morose and unwilling Earl of
Sidwell become such a party animal?

While he was absorbed in the scene before him, a man approached

the bar and sat down next to him. The bloke was probably in his early
thirties, good looking, with spiky dark-blond hair and bristly whiskers
around his lips. Somehow the contrast made them look sensual. Jason
shivered.

Jason’s Fortune

17

“Don’t like your drink?” the guy asked in a rough-edged accent

that told Jason he was a city dweller, not an academic. “You’ve
hardly touched it.”

“It’s fine.” Jason shrugged. The guy’s eyes roved over his

shoulders and down his back, sizing him up. He didn’t feel offended.
Quite the reverse—he felt kind of turned on. “Not much of a drinker
in general. Big dinner.”

The guy smiled. “Want to dance some of it off?”
“Uh…” Jason hesitated. Flirting with a man was one thing.

Dancing with one was a different matter.

The man seemed to understand. “Never been here before, have

you?”

“Actually, I haven’t,” Jason confessed.
“Ah, new blood. How do you like it so far?”
“It’s a bit…overwhelming.”
“Can be at first. Not to worry, we were all in your boots once.

Nervous, are you?”

“I guess you could say that.”
“Well, then, why not jump in with both feet? No better place to do

that than the dance floor, right?” The guy winked. “I’m not a bad
dancer. Might teach you a thing or two…on the floor and off.”

Jason glanced around discreetly. His brother and Dorian were

nowhere to be seen. They wouldn’t know or tease him for what he
was about to do. And he was burning with curiosity. “Well, all right.”

“I’m Ted,” the guy said.
“John,” Jason lied. He left the beer behind. They got up and

walked onto the crowded floor together. Ted hadn’t lied—his dancing
was smooth, energetic, and undeniably masculine. Jason enjoyed
watching him. Suddenly he spotted his brother and Dorian dancing
nearby. They didn’t see him, totally focused on each other.

The song blaring from the speakers ended and faded into another.

He saw Dorian and Mark go into a clinch as the music got slower.

18

Cassandra Pierce

Ted moved in and danced closer to him, too. Soon his hand came to
rest lightly against Jason’s waist.

Jason didn’t pull away. Next, he felt the man’s palm slide over his

rear end.

“So, John…want to step out of here for a while?” Ted asked. He

winked. “I can make that first time memorable, too.”

Now Jason did panic. “Uh…sorry. I came with someone. Have to

wait for them.”

Ted’s smile never faded. He stepped back as the song ended. “All

right, then. I understand. Maybe next time.”

Yeah, Jason thought. To his own surprise, he felt open to the idea.

“Maybe,” he murmured.

After giving him a mock salute, Ted drifted off into the crowd.

Jason experienced both relief and disappointment as he vanished. He
made his way back to the bar.

Soon Mark and Dorian returned.
“What did you do while we were gone? Anything exciting?” Mark

asked innocently. Clearly, he hadn’t seen anything.

“Nope. I just sat at the bar and watched.”
“We can go,” Mark said. “It’s getting late, and I’ve seen enough.”
Jason figured they wanted to get back to their big feather bed. He

didn’t blame them. He wished he was going home with a partner,
too—Ted or someone like him, he realized with a start.

The three of them walked to the parking garage and picked up

their car. Dorian and Mark held hands in the front seat as they pulled
out.

In the back, Jason leaned back and pretended to sleep. His hand

rested on the bag containing the history books he’d purchased from
the shop. Thinking about sex would get him nowhere, he decided.
Enough of that. He would sneak out early to dig for treasure.

Jason’s Fortune

19

Chapter 2

That night, while he tried to fall asleep, Jason sensed someone

watching him. As irrational as he knew his actions were, a few times
he even sat up and turned on the bedside lamp, predictably finding
nothing and no one. Finally, he managed to drift into a strange,
restless condition that didn’t relieve his anxiety. He had the sensation
of leaving his bed and traveling as if by magic, a spirit on the summer
wind. The stars glistened around him as he floated through the sky
and alighted in the forest, not far from the path he had taken with the
metal detector.

Moist blades of grass tickled his bare feet as he walked on, trying

to get his bearings. Dressed only in his pajama bottoms, he soon
found himself in a clearing, surrounded by trees. A few meters ahead
of him lay a moonlit pool of water. This, he assumed, was where the
stream he had walked along that morning emptied and replenished
itself. Over the high-pitched buzz of insects, he heard the bubbling of
the current.

Soon the water stirred and eddied, as if some unseen force pushed

it upward. Unafraid, Jason moved to the bank and watched as a figure
rose out of the water to face him. It turned out to be another man,
about his own age, with long blond hair and a beautiful pale body that
shimmered bare and pearly in the moonlight. He stood thigh-deep in a
pool of fragrant water that glistened around him like a sheet of glass,
the balmy breeze barely stirring its placid surface.

Jason stared, mesmerized by his stillness and the sheer perfection

of his nakedness. Not a word passed between them, but they

20

Cassandra Pierce

communicated with perfect clarity. When the man in the water
beckoned, Jason stripped off his pajamas and waded out to meet him.

They reached toward one another, tentatively at first, and then

with more confidence. Soon their hands roved over damp but warm
flesh, starting at chest level and gradually sliding lower. At the same
time, their faces leaned together and met in a delicate kiss.

The stranger’s lips were soft and sweet, tasting of the fragrant

summer forest and the clear night air. Jason had never kissed a man
before—but then again, his subconscious reminded him, he wasn’t
really kissing one now, either. He was dreaming—wasn’t he? Either
way, he didn’t think anything had ever felt so right or so inviting. He
wanted more.

Without breaking the kiss, Jason let his fingers drop to the surface

of the water. There, he closed them around the stranger’s cock and
stroked the rubbery foreskin. He heard the other man’s breath catch in
surprise, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he shut his eyes and reached
for Jason’s cock.

Jason might not have had any real experiences with other men, but

after many years of practicing on himself, he knew what a male body
liked. Tightening his grip, he milked the other guy gently, pointing his
cock at a downward angle until the swollen tip bumped against
Jason’s. The other man, his mouth trembling against Jason’s,
mimicked the movements on Jason’s shaft.

They jerked each other slowly at first, then with increased fervor.

After only a few silken strokes from the stranger’s fist, Jason’s balls
tightened and heat rushed to his groin. Though his inner voice again
reminded him that he was dreaming, the sensations seemed so real
that Jason could have sworn he really had left his bed and drifted out
of the house in some way he couldn’t explain.

Just as he was about to release his seed into the moon-kissed

water, the stranger’s body went rigid and pulled back. At first, Jason
thought he was losing control as he, too, rushed toward climax, but he
soon noticed fear sharpening the man’s clear gray eyes.

Jason’s Fortune

21

“I cannot,” he whispered. “It is forbidden.” His fingers slid from

Jason’s cock a moment later, leaving Jason gasping and unsatisfied.

And then, just like that, Jason found himself back in his bed on the

estate, his body aching for the pleasure denied him. Moonlight
streamed through his open casement-style window, and the scent of
the forest filled his senses. The same drone and buzz of summer
insects tickled his ears.

Quickly, he closed his eyes, trying to recreate the pool and the

stranger in his mind as he reached down and sated his lust with his
own hand. Never had he experienced a dream so vivid, or one that had
affected his emotions so sharply. Only after he had slumped back into
his pillows, exhausted, did he realize that his pajama bottoms were
nowhere to be seen.

* * * *

In the morning, Jason showered and dressed before he headed

downstairs for coffee, intending to get an early start. He hadn’t slept
well after his vivid dream about the mysterious man in the water, his
mind racing with curiosity about what it all meant. Maybe he was
finally coming to terms with a repressed, or perhaps merely hidden,
aspect of his sexuality. That didn’t bother him too much—obviously,
the time had come for his subconscious to accept the fact that, like his
brother, he preferred the intimate attentions of men. Though his
mother probably wouldn’t be pleased, any more than she was when
Mark had come out of the closet, Jason didn’t anticipate any huge
existential crisis on the horizon for him.

Still, the question remained—why had the dream-man’s touch

seemed so real to him, arousing him as if an actual hand had closed
around his straining flesh? The thought that there might really be
something to the old superstitions struck him as ludicrous, of course.
Yet Jason couldn’t shake the bizarre impression that his journey into

22

Cassandra Pierce

the forest his ancestors had considered haunted, or at least enchanted,
had changed him in a way he couldn’t quite define.

Still, a more likely explanation might be that he was losing his

mind. Did balminess run in his family as well as a liking for men?

On his way down the hall toward the grand staircase, he passed

the room Mark and Dorian shared. From behind the door came the
unmistakable sounds of an erotic interlude in progress. Quickly, he
moved on, embarrassed by the moaning and rustling. Didn’t those two
ever tire of one another?

To his relief, he found that Anthony had already prepared coffee

and even a plate of kippers with butter. Jason downed a hasty meal
and then pulled on his coat and Wellie boots. The weather looked a
bit gray, but he had no intention of skipping an entire day of treasure
hunting. How Uncle Edwin had come across the gold coins he’d left
Mark remained a mystery, especially since no one had been able to
date them with any certainty. Mark had suggested that the coins had
been designed and struck by one of their ancestors, who had created
his own currency for some eccentric purpose. Jason was inclined to
agree, but he remained convinced that the grounds held other, much
older treasures as well. His research into Anglo-Saxon hoards found
elsewhere in the district only made him more certain.

His metal detector waited for him by the front door. Grabbing it,

Jason headed out into the woods despite the slight drizzle and chilly
breeze. This time, he didn’t bother wandering down some of the
smaller paths that led from the house into the thick screen of ancient
trees beyond. Instead, he headed for the stream.

He walked for what seemed like an hour as the shadows shifted

around him and the sun skidded from view behind the tangle of black,
twisted branches. He could see why the more impressionable minds of
the past might have found the area unnerving, even frightening. Yet
somehow, the closer he got to the water, the less gloomy his
surroundings became and the warmer the air grew. The rain slowed
and then, to his relief, stopped altogether. By the time he readied his

Jason’s Fortune

23

metal detector and lowered its nose to the ground, he felt overdressed
in his jacket and boots.

On either side of him, the stream’s path twisted and wove through

the trees and tangles of brush, seeming to go on for miles. If the pool
in his dream existed, it certainly didn’t lay nearby. Jason decided to
walk for a while and see where he ended up. As long as he stayed
next to the bank, he reasoned, he couldn’t get lost.

After fitting the headphones over his ears, he switched on the

machine and started his search anew. He wasn’t sure how far he
walked, wrapped up in his thoughts and enjoying the unexpected
warmth.

At the same time, he got the oddest impression that someone was

watching him—from the other side of the stream, perhaps. More than
once, a flash of movement in the bushes off to his right, across the
water, caught his eye. When he would stop and investigate, he found
nothing unusual. Jason dismissed these interruptions as tricks of his
imagination, or perhaps the flitting of a bird or forest mammal—
preferably a small and harmless one.

Maybe he should turn and go back, he decided after another hour

or so had passed. Though the weather remained pleasant, he sensed
that he had strayed a long way from Sidwell Manor. He’d located
nothing resembling the pool from his dream, and the ground there
seemed rocky and uneven. Slipping and twisting his ankle that far
from the house could prove perilous. Though he’d brought his mobile
phone, he doubted it would work out there.

Just as he pivoted and started back the way he had come, his metal

detector started beeping loudly. Scarcely able to believe what he’d
heard, Jason turned around and went over the same spot again.

The detector beeped again, indicating something buried at the

edge of the stream. An excited sweat breaking out on his forehead,
Jason set down the detector and took a small garden trowel from his
coat pocket. As he knelt to dig, he cautioned himself not to get his
hopes up too high—for all he knew, he’d discovered a long-lost

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Cassandra Pierce

fishing lure with a metal tip. Still, he had a good feeling about this
one.

By the time he finished digging, Jason was covered in sweat and

dirt, and the muscles in his arm burned with pain and exertion. None
of those discomforts mattered a bit to him as he crouched beside the
hole he’d made, looking down at a small bag made of severely stained
and worn leather. Opening it, he shook the contents into his open
palm. A thick, heavy ring tumbled out, clearly a man’s. Though age
and grime had obscured its surface, a few rubs of Jason’s fingers
uncovered an R engraved on the front in elaborate scrollwork—quite
probably the signet of a Rampling long dead. His heart beat faster
with pride and exhilaration. Nothing Anglo-Saxon about his find, but
it was certainly a valuable antique and had most likely belonged to
one of his ancestors.

As he was about to slip the ring back into the pouch and transfer it

to the safety of one of his pockets, Jason heard a slight rustling off to
one side. His eyes scanned the opposite bank of the stream. Again he
saw nothing, but he couldn’t ignore the prickling along his scalp and
the quickening of his pulse. Someone was tracking him, ready to steal
whatever he found. Who was it? A person from the village? A
transient?

Clutching the tiny leather sack in one fist, Jason got to his feet. He

slid the ring onto the middle finger of his left hand for safekeeping.

What happened next he couldn’t quite comprehend, much less

anticipate. Out of nowhere, a man’s arm appeared, seeming to
materialize out of the air. Long, grasping fingers darted toward the
ring, closing around it and attempting to wrench it from his finger. To
whom the fingers belonged, or where the rest of the arm’s owner
might be, Jason had no earthly idea. Whoever or whatever the thief’s
identity, his first instinct was to protect his hard-won prize.

Whipping his hand away, Jason lowered his shoulder and plowed

forward, surging in a traditional rugby-style tackle he’d learned to
execute at school. Though he still couldn’t make out a figure, he

Jason’s Fortune

25

quickly found himself the center of a blur of movement. He and the
other person hit the ground, a strong pair of arms wrapped around
Jason’s body. Jason fought back hard, landing one blow and then
another on the blighter’s face. The two of them rolled beside the
stream, the thief’s desperate grasp lunging for the ring from every
possible angle. Finally, Jason managed to see whom he was fighting.
The bugger seemed to have materialized out of nothing, though of
course that was impossible—wasn’t it?

As he struggled with every ounce of energy he had, Jason tried to

memorize details to tell the police later. The guy’s attire seemed as
bizarre as the way he’d arrived on the scene—a loose white shirt,
brown knee-length pants, and an old-fashioned striped waistcoat with
large, shimmering buttons. On his feet were knee-high wool stockings
and buckle-topped shoes like the actors wore in pirate movies. His
unkempt chestnut hair hung down into his face, but every now and
then it would fall to the side and reveal the man’s bright silver eyes.
The first time Jason looked fully into them, he froze for a moment,
startled by the unusual color. The thief used the momentary
distraction to jump up and run for the stream—taking Jason’s ring in
the process.

As he jumped up to follow, Jason was sure he heard voices and

the sounds of people hurrying toward them. Oddly, he still couldn’t
see anyone, and the noises seemed to come from someplace far away
in the forest.

The thief’s outdated shoes hit the water as he leaped into the

stream and raced for the opposite side. The moment Jason did the
same, it felt as though he slammed into some invisible barrier. His
own boots slipped on a rock as he lost his balance, and he barely had
time to utter a curse before he pitched forward. The frothy water,
along with the slime-covered rock, rushed up to meet Jason full in the
face. Then everything went dark.

* * * *

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Cassandra Pierce

The next thing Jason knew, he was back in the same pool of water

with the same beautiful blond man standing beside him. Once again,
both of them stood naked, their arms extended until their hands rested
on each other’s hips. The rest of the world, and all he had just been
through, seemed distant and hazy. Jason began to wonder if he had
ever left the place at all. Perhaps waking, following the stream, and
finding the ring had actually been the dream.

Only one thing appeared different. This time, the sun gleamed

above them, warming the water and causing lazy tendrils of mist to
rise around their bare bodies.

“The water will heal you,” the stranger said in response to his

unspoken question. “Try to become one with it.”

Impulsively, Jason tightened his grip on the man’s smooth, cream-

colored hips and drew him closer so that their cocks brushed together.
Both of them were hard, he realized right away. “I would rather
become one with you,” he joked.

The man’s delicate features creased with worry. “’Tis forbidden

for me to spend my life force in such a way.” His body shivered as
though he were trying, and failing, to pull away from Jason. “The
master says I need every shard of energy my body and spirit possess if
I am to pass my test. He says I have come too far to lose everything
now.”

“The master?” Jason repeated, blinking. “Are you a slave?”
“No!” The young man looked startled. “I am an apprentice.

Master Freme is my adept.”

“Your adept? What does that mean?”
“Never mind.” Delicate, gold lashes dropped onto a perfect pale

cheek as the stranger shook his head. He moved closer again, the tip
of his cock nuzzling Jason’s. “In any case, ’tis only I who am
forbidden to enjoy such release. No rule I know of prevents me from
giving it to you.”

Jason’s Fortune

27

“Last night, you didn’t,” Jason said. He stifled a moan as those

soft, graceful fingers slid around his shaft and tightened slowly. “You
turned away too soon.”

“I have had time to consider the matter since then. Besides, last

night you were not in need of healing. This morning, you are.”

Jason started to answer, but his words melted on his tongue as the

man began to stroke his cock. He kept his hand just below the surface,
sliding his fist along Jason’s shaft inside the soft cocoon of liquid
warmth.

“Become one with the water,” the stranger said, drawing a bolt of

pleasure from Jason’s balls to his bulging cockhead. “Let it heal you.”

“I–I can feel it. Yeah,” Jason whispered as the guy’s hand moved

back up his shaft. Though he wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed
to heal from, exactly, he had no problem enjoying the treatment.
Another downstroke and the first stirrings of orgasm gripped him. He
tried to hold off, wanting to enjoy a few more moments of those
sweet, soft fingertips rubbing his nerve endings while his nuts swelled
with a buildup of seed.

“You will grow stronger now. My touch will assist you.”
“No doubt about that,” Jason managed to gasp, just as a hot flood

of pleasure roared through him. A torrent of seed flowed over the
stranger’s hand, only to dissolve into the balmy current around them.
Closing his eyes, Jason tipped his head back and let the sunlight warm
his cheeks and forehead.

* * * *

Moments later, Jason awoke to find himself stretched out naked in

an unfamiliar bed. His face felt swollen, his jaw tender. The mattress
beneath him shifted, lumpy and uncomfortable.

A man with shoulder-length, blond hair bent over him, adjusting

his pillows and covers. The coarse, brown shirt he wore hardly looked

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Cassandra Pierce

appropriate for a hospital, but apparently he was serving as Jason’s
nurse.

“Where am I?” he demanded, raising his head a little.

Immediately he dropped onto the pillow as a searing pain tore through
his skull. Who are you? And where are my clothes?”

His makeshift nurse leaped back in shock, apparently noticing for

the first time that Jason had opened his eyes. When Jason saw his
face, he, too, gaped in astonishment. The man from his dreams stood
right in front of him.

“I know you,” Jason said.

Jason’s Fortune

29

Chapter 3

“No. No you don’t,” the blond man insisted, backing away.
“I do,” Jason said. “I saw you. You were in my dreams. Twice.”
“Wait here,” the man said. Trembling, he rushed from the room.

Jason managed to sit up and look around, confirming his earlier
suspicions. No way was he in hospital. This was someone’s house—
and a pretty run-down, outmoded house at that. The place seemed
spotlessly clean, but he saw no wallpaper or carpets, no telephone on
any wall, and candles and oil lamps replaced electric lighting.

A frightening thought struck him. Had he been kidnapped? He

was the brother of an earl, after all. He doubted an attack and
abduction could happen right on his own property, but at the same
time, stranger things happened every day.

While he considered a strategy for escape, the blond guy returned.

With him walked a tall, striking man who appeared to be in his early
forties, with aquiline features and hair so white-blond it gleamed like
a metal headdress. That illusion, combined with the unique robe he
wore, which featured an embroidered dragon on the left side and a
majestic lion on the other, made him resemble a medieval knight…or
wizard.

To Jason’s relief, the imposing figure bent down toward Jason

with extreme courtesy and respect. He even smoothed a gentle hand
over Jason’s forehead. Jason became aware of a tender spot above his
left eyebrow, presumably where something had struck him.

“The herbal compress has worked wonders. Well done, Graylin,”

he said to the younger man. “Your patient has fortunately suffered no
other ill effects from crossing the stream.” He paused and shook his

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Cassandra Pierce

head, pursing his lips in wonder. “Most irregular, to say the least,” he
murmured.

“What are you talking about?” Jason demanded.
The older man straightened up, as if he had not expected to be

overheard. “Do not trouble yourself. The man who attacked you has
been punished and your goods recovered. That is all you need to
know, though I must add my personal apology for his behavior. My
leniency contributed to his transgression, and for that, I am deeply
sorry.”

Jason felt more confused than ever. “Who are you?”
The man pressed his palm to Jason’s forehead again. “As I said,

you need not trouble yourself with such details. You suffered a head
wound, and therefore, we must be cautious. I recommend no strain on
your mental abilities until you are completely healed. In the
meantime, Graylin here will see to you. I shall return as needed.”

Pivoting on his heel, he swept from the room with a regal swish of

his robes. Jason stared after him, more confused than ever, as the one
called Graylin returned to his side.

“Should I get you something?” he asked eagerly. “Dandelion tea,

perhaps?”

Jason winced. “That sounds foul, if you want the truth.”
“What can I do for you, then?”
“To start, you can answer the questions your friend refused to.”
Graylin swallowed. “Master Freme is not my friend! He would be

outraged at the very suggestion!”

Master? Jason recalled that word from one of the dreams. He

recalled another, too—adept. What did it all mean? Was this some
kind of weird school—for martial arts, perhaps, or a New Age retreat
for homeopathic medics? If so, why did the students wander his
brother’s estate committing robbery? Their outfits suggested a
Shakespeare festival. Could they be involved in the performing arts?

“Well, what is he to you, then?” he asked, fishing. “You seem to

take his orders—that much is clear.”

Jason’s Fortune

31

“Of course. I am his apprentice—but nothing more.”
Apprentice—a trade school, then. For what peculiar trade, he

would figure out later. Jason shifted around on the uncomfortable
mattress, preparing to get to his feet, only to be reminded that he was
in no position to go anywhere. “Er—my clothes seem to be missing,”
he said. “I don’t suppose you know anything about them.”

Graylin nodded. “They became wet, bloodstained, and dirty from

your fight with Wyl. But we’ve measured you and are getting some to
fit right now.”

Wyl…so that was the name of the miscreant who had attacked

him. Jason filed that information away mentally as he tucked the sheet
around his waist and sat up with an effort. “How about explaining
what happened? I do remember thumping some bloke in the woods
after he tried to steal from me, but beyond that…nothing.”

“That was Wyl.” Graylin sighed and nodded. “He wanted to claim

your treasure. Thought it would save him some time with Master
Freme. He didn’t want to make the gold himself, so he planned to
melt your ring down and pretend to transform it at the appropriate
time. At least, that is what I assume his motives were. Master Freme
has confined him to his room, and no one has been allowed to speak
to him since we apprehended him.” His pale cheeks flushed dark-red.
“Wyl is not a bad sort, once you get below the surface, but he does
tend to do as he pleases. And studying does not please him.”

Jason didn’t understand much of that, but then again, he didn’t

really care about these young guys and their petty squabbles. He was
more concerned with finding out just what kind of predicament he
was in. “So where am I, exactly? Where is this place?”

“Don’t worry. You’re closer to Sidwell Manor than you know.

We shall return you there as soon as you are well. All of this will be a
distant memory to you…rather like the sort of unpleasant dream that
fades away by midafternoon.” Graylin looked a little sad as he
conveyed this information. Jason suspected he knew more about the
exact nature of those dreams than he was letting on.

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Cassandra Pierce

“So you know I am from Sidwell Manor. Has anyone contacted

my brother? Or Dorian?” He saw a flicker of understanding, and then
evasiveness, in Graylin’s unusual silver-blue eyes. “You know
Dorian, then? Dorian Fairchild?”

“I know of him,” Graylin said.
“Well, someone needs to come and pick me up. I appreciate your

taking care of me, but…” Jason sank back, suddenly dizzy.
Apparently this Master Freme had been right about the stress factor.
“Just call my brother at the estate and tell him Jason needs him. He’ll
send a car round. He’ll make it worth your while, if you know what I
mean.”

Graylin ignored him. Instead, he went to the sideboard and

brought forward a huge mug that looked like it had been handmade on
a potter’s wheel. “Drink this. The ingredients will help your
headache.”

Skeptically, Jason tasted the concoction. It tasted spicier than tea,

but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. After only a few swallows, he began
to feel heavy and sleepy. Handing the cup back to Graylin, he
slumped down into the bedding. He was vaguely aware of another
warm compress on his skin, swabbing the injured place on his
forehead.

Just before he slipped from consciousness, he saw Graylin bend

down. Jason pretended to be asleep as Graylin kissed him gently on
the lips.

“I will make sure you are safe,” Graylin whispered.

* * * *

Another person stepped into the doorway. Graylin jumped up and

turned around, his face flushing with heat.

“That isn’t a good idea.”
“Be quiet, Wyl! You don’t know what you’re talking about!

Besides, this is all your fault!”

Jason’s Fortune

33

“It’s my fault he is injured. I can’t deny that. You pressing your

lips to his is entirely out of my control, though.”

“Master Freme told me to take care of him,” Graylin said,

knowing that his defensive tone would serve as an admission of guilt.
“I must do anything necessary to heal him from the wounds you
caused.”

Wyl crossed his arms and leaned in the doorway. “Don’t get

attached to him. You’ll be making a mistake.”

“I guess you would know about mistakes,” Graylin shot back.
“So I tried to steal some old crud he’d dug up from the ground. He

hurt himself by giving chase. I didn’t cause him to fall, though Freme
will punish me all the same. You can gloat then.”

“I have nothing to gloat about. I am amazed he could cross the

stream, though. I thought—”

“The spell doesn’t work when they’re unconscious. I had

suspected as much, but now we have proof. If you ask me, we should
carry him back out there now and leave him on the other side.”

“No!” Graylin blurted. “I mean, er, he isn’t well yet.”
“You’re making a mistake,” Wyl said again.
“Anyhow, why are you out of your room? I thought you were

ordered to remain there until further notice.”

Wyl shrugged. “He wants to see us both in the oratorium. I wish

now that I had kept the iPod so I could stop up my ears.”

Graylin looked back at his patient, sleeping peacefully under the

narcotic sway of the dandelion tea. “I cannot leave him,” he said.

“You can and will. The Master has spoken. Now come with me.”
Reluctantly, Graylin followed Wyl down the corridor and into

Master Freme’s oratorium. Their adept sat waiting for them in his
favorite chair, a throne-like seat with a high back made of polished
wood and carved with rows of interlocking ciphers. He rose when his
apprentices entered the room.

“I am sure I need not reiterate what a disappointment the two of

you have been to me as of late,” he growled. Graylin hung his head,

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Cassandra Pierce

but Wyl maintained a defiant pose that was sure to irritate their
master. “Two moons from now, the Inspection will be upon us, and
neither of you has been able to transform so much as a droplet of
quicksilver. Instead, you waste your time and inner energy spying on
humans and circumventing my orders. Frankly, I am tempted to
dismiss both of you and apprentice you to the bricklayer instead. Then
you will learn the value of true labor and the worth of intellectual
endeavor.” He stopped, waiting for them to respond.

“We beg your pardon, Master Freme,” Graylin said. “We behaved

foolishly and irresponsibly. I promise to do better and try harder in the
future.”

Beside him, Wyl sniffed and shrugged. Graylin did not have to

look up to know he was rolling his eyes.

“See that you adhere to your vow,” Freme snapped. “Both of you.

And now let us discuss the matter of this human. I am sure I need not
elaborate on the danger you have exposed us to. No human has
breached this community for hundreds, perhaps thousands, of years.
His presence puts our very way of life in jeopardy.”

“But we couldn’t leave him to bleed into the stream!” Graylin

piped up, a nervous blush suffusing his entire body. “He could have
drowned, even. Who can say how long it might have been before the
earl or Dorian found him?”

Freme ground his teeth. “Let us not speak of Dorian. His example

is hardly one to follow. As it happens, though, I agree with you to the
extent that it was our duty to save the younger Rampling brother from
serious harm, especially as ’twas Wyl who caused it. And, in an odd
way, I suppose we should be grateful that his antics revealed the
weakness in our barrier. I shall set to work on repairing the oversight
immediately.”

Finally, Wyl spoke up. “What will you do with the human, now

that he has seen us? We can hardly allow him to go back and tell the
others what he has discovered. The next thing you know, they will all

Jason’s Fortune

35

be trying to get past the barrier, and one of them might eventually
succeed.”

“The earl’s brother will tell no one what he has seen here,” Freme

said, “because he will not remember. The apothecary and I will begin
working at once on a potion to clear all thoughts of us, and our
community, and this Hall of Learning, from his memory forever.
Meanwhile, we shall care for him as best we can. Remember, too, that
human ways are not our ways. I would advise you both to do nothing
to adversely affect your performance on Inspection Day.”

Graylin looked away as Wyl covered his mouth to stifle a snicker.

“We will not disappoint you, Master,” Graylin said in a choked voice.

“See that you do not. In fact, I have decided to conduct my own

examinations of both of you before we all embarrass ourselves in
front of the Goldmaker. I suggest you devote the rest of this afternoon
to private study. You, Wyl, may return to your room and open your
books there. Graylin, you may continue to tend the human, but see
that you are enriching your mind while you remain beside him.
Tomorrow morning I shall question both of you about every line you
read.”

Graylin and Wyl glanced at each other. Wyl’s eyes did not betray

even a hint of anxiety. “Yes, Master,” the two said in unison.

* * * *

Jason woke to find three young men staring at him. All wore the

same odd outfits as Graylin, and all had blond or light-brown hair cut
in strange pseudo-medieval styles.

“He looks more like us than I expected,” one of them observed.
One of his companions laughed. “Did you expect him to sport two

heads and four arms?”

“I thought perhaps he might be bigger,” the third youth ventured.

“My mother once told me that humans were giants, crushing
everything in their path as they walked.”

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Cassandra Pierce

“She said so to prevent you from sneaking into their village. She

wanted to scare you, and you were gullible enough to fall for it!”

“Who are you?” Jason asked groggily. The three leaped back just

as Graylin had done. This sure was a jumpy group.

“I am Yonas, the apothecary’s apprentice,” said the tallest of

them. “Meldrad is studying with the glassblower, and Devad is
learning to be a bonesetter.”

“No need of that, I hope,” Jason said. He moved his limbs one

more time just to be sure. “I don’t think I have any broken bones.”

The three of them giggled but stopped when Graylin rushed into

the room carrying an enormous book wrapped together with several
colorful ribbons and strings. “Get out of here, you three!” he shouted.
“You’re not supposed to be bothering him! He needs to rest!”

Grumbling, the group shuffled out, and Graylin forcefully closed

the door behind them. Returning to the bed, he ran a hand over
Jason’s forehead. Jason felt hardly any discomfort this time. “You do
seem better. My poultice helped. The bruise has almost faded away.”

“Uh, yeah. The drink wasn’t too bad, either. Knocked me out like

a light.”

“That was the effect I hoped for. Master Freme says rest is the

best thing where a head wound is concerned.”

Jason nodded. Freme might be the most unconventional doctor

he’d ever had, but something about his manner had seemed
trustworthy. Graylin’s pewter-colored eyes seemed to reflect genuine
concern, too. He wasn’t concerned anymore that he had been
kidnapped, though he didn’t plan to let this little game of theirs go on
too much longer. Mark would be out of his mind with worry,
assuming he’d bothered to get out of bed with Dorian at all that day.

“I want to thank you for taking such good care of me when you

didn’t have to. On the other hand, I don’t think of you as a stranger. I
feel like I already know you…very well.”

Graylin’s body tensed. He turned away and busied himself with

setting up a chair near Jason’s bedside. “That is impossible.”

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37

“No. It isn’t. I told you. You’ve been in my dreams. Twice. We

stood in a pool of water together. We touched one another.” Jason
paused and swallowed. Recalling the details of that dream brought up
a wave of emotion he wasn’t sure he could deal with right now.
Without warning, his body began to ache for Graylin’s gentle,
intimate touch.

“You were injured. You were hallucinating.” Graylin picked up

the huge leather-covered book and spread it open on his lap. From
what Jason could see, it looked like it was all written by hand, though
the language seemed to consist of strange symbols and cursive
lettering he couldn’t decipher.

“What is that book?” he asked, deciding to abandon the subject of

the pool for now. Already his cock had begun to throb between his
legs, distracting him.

“’Tis called The Book of Elements. I must learn it by heart as

quickly as possible—Master Freme is not satisfied with my progress
so far.”

Jason had no idea what he was talking about, but he played along,

a trick he’d learned while taking difficult courses in college. “I know
what it’s like to study something you don’t like. I got used to that at
Cambridge.”

Graylin squinted with confusion. “That is your place of learning?”
“You’ve never heard of Cambridge? What about Oxford? My

brother went there—for a while, anyway.” When Graylin looked
blank, he pushed on. “Well, yeah, they are places of learning. Among
other things, I guess you could say, though I was focused only on the
learning part.”

“Are they bigger than this place?” Graylin asked.
“Much,” Jason said. “Each of them is a whole city, almost entirely

populated by students.”

“Entire cities of students?” Graylin’s eyes widened. “Do any of

them study alchemy? Did you?”

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Cassandra Pierce

“Alchemy?” This time, Jason gaped in wonder. “Uh…no. My

mother wants me to become a solicitor, but I’m more keen on going
into history now that I’ve finished my degree.”

“And then what? You will become a History Master yourself?”
“I’d rather not. Teaching doesn’t appeal to me. I’d prefer to do

some research of my own. There’s a long, rich past to tap right in this
county, and for that matter, right on our estate. My brother wouldn’t
like it, of course. He’s become fanatical about his privacy lately, ever
since he became an earl. I don’t quite know what to make of him.”

“I don’t have a brother,” Graylin said wistfully. “Most families

here produce only one child.”

“Glad my parents didn’t feel that way, or I wouldn’t be around.”

Jason laughed, but it made his head hurt. He stopped and lay back.
Graylin looked down at him with intense concern.

“Should I fetch Master Freme?”
“No way! I mean, no. I’m fine. I want to get up, in fact. I think it

would help me recover.”

Graylin’s eyes widened. “I’m not sure that would be a good idea.”
“Well, I think it is,” Jason said, getting up. This time, he didn’t

care that the sheet fell off and left him naked. The huge book nearly
dropped from Graylin’s hands as they began to shake. Quickly, he got
up, set the book aside, and brought over a bundle of cloth instead.

“We prepared these garments for you,” he said. He held them out,

but Jason noticed with secret enjoyment that he was staring at his
body.

“Thanks.” Jason shook the bundle out and found yet another old-

fashioned, hand-stitched outfit. This was some weird group of people.
To hell with writing a history of the county. He could write an entire
book about this bunch if he wanted to. They lived in a perpetual
Renaissance faire. It struck him then—were they one of those
historical reenactment groups who tried to recreate village life for
tourists? If so, they sure got into their roles. How far was he from
home, anyway? He’d never heard of this kind of attraction anywhere

Jason’s Fortune

39

near the estate. Maybe it wasn’t open to the public yet. He’d have to
ask Mark later.

Feeling foolish, he stuffed his limbs into the ridiculous hose and

tunic and bent to pull on a pair of cloth slippers with pointed toes.
Speaking of Mark, he really needed to call home and let them know
he was all right. Maybe they would know where he was and could
pick him up.

“Where’s my mobile phone? It was in my coat pocket. Don’t look

at me like that. It’s time to drop the pretense. This is serious. Where
are my original clothes?”

“I don’t know. Master Freme took them.”
“Right. I think I will have a word with him after all.” Jason

charged for the door. His head thumped painfully, but he didn’t care.
He was off to tell the so-called Master Freme he’d had enough of this
silly game.

“Please don’t.” Darting in front of him, Graylin blocked the door

and held up both hands. Jason was unable to stop himself from
stepping right into his embrace.

The next thing he knew, Graylin’s arms wrapped around him.

Their mouths hovered only a whisper’s breadth from one another—
just like in the dream.

Then Jason tilted his head forward and enclosed Graylin’s lips in

his own.

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Cassandra Pierce

Chapter 4

Clinging together, the two of them stumbled back into the room,

ending up on the narrow bed Jason had been using. There they kissed
for a few minutes, their lips growing bolder until their tongues began
to explore, teasing and tasting.

Eventually, Graylin’s forehead creased with worry. “I must tell

you something, Jason.” He moved back and let his hands drop from
Jason’s shoulders. “What you said before—about knowing me from
somewhere. It’s true. I have been in your dreams.”

“I know.” Jason nodded. “I’m not quite sure why or how you did

it, but I knew I hadn’t imagined that.”

“You experienced more than a dream. I must beg your

forgiveness.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. I enjoyed every minute of

your…hypnosis, or whatever it was.”

“You don’t understand. I am not supposed to use magic on

anything but inanimate objects, like stones and plants. Yet from the
first time I saw you by the stream, I couldn’t help myself.”

Jason frowned. “What are you talking about? What do you mean

by magic?”

“The magic I possess—the same as all my people do, to various

degrees. Mine is said to be strong, though I never believed that until I
used it to visit your thoughts while you slept. ’Twas only meant as a
harmless prank. I didn’t mean to become so…carried away.”

“Yes…the night before I came here. I remember.” Did he ever,

Jason mused. Already the front of the pants Graylin had given him

Jason’s Fortune

41

was straining as his cock hardened at the thought. Reaching down, he
discreetly loosened the ties that substituted for a zipper.

“What you saw—what we experienced together—those were

more than dreams. We were together in a way you can’t understand.”
Graylin set his jaw in a determined expression. “Maybe that’s why I
can’t direct my magic toward making gold. I’m too distracted by
you.”

Jason tilted his head, puzzled, but he decided not to get into

anything too deep. So the guy was a little weird. He was also really
cute. Some logical explanation must exist for the strange connection
between them. “Well, for right now, this is the only kind of magic I’m
concerned with,” he said, running his hand over Graylin’s codpiece.
Graylin caught his breath when Jason squeezed the hard evidence of
his desire. Then he covered Jason’s hand with his own.

“Again, I apologize. Things are not as they seem with me. I am

not permitted to…expend my energies in that way. I must conserve all
of my spirit for Inspection Day. Ademus the Goldmaker is coming to
review my progress with Master Freme. Master Freme is most upset
with my lack of progress, you see. I cannot take the chance on making
things worse.”

“I see.” Jason lay back on the pillows, astonished. So Graylin’s

questions about alchemy at Cambridge hadn’t been idle conversation.
He really believed in that stuff, right down to the enforced chastity of
alchemists that Jason had read about in his history seminars. He didn’t
have the heart to tell the poor guy that the entire field had been
discredited and supplanted by the advent of legitimate chemistry in
the year 1600 or so.

Graylin looked over at Jason, tears brimming in his eyes. “Then

you understand why I cannot…not even in the dreams. Sometimes,
when imagined pleasures grow too real, the body follows in ways we
cannot control.”

Jason reached up to brush the first droplets from his cheeks as

they fell. “I do hear what you’re saying. But think about it this way.

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Cassandra Pierce

You say nothing you’ve done so far has worked for you. That means
you haven’t been able to make gold, right?”

“Yes. Master Freme is most displeased with me…and with Wyl,

too, though that is entirely his own fault.”

“Well, maybe you’ve been going about the whole thing backward.

Maybe what you need is not to pen up all your energy, but to let it
out, you know? After all, if one thing doesn’t work, maybe it’s time to
try the opposite.”

“That is, in fact, a sound alchemical principle.” Graylin pursed his

lips in thought, and it was all Jason could do not to raise himself and
kiss the ruddy little bud they formed. “I must admit that your theory
may have merit.”

“I know it does,” Jason said. “I always find that when I can’t

concentrate on something, or I feel stressed out, letting off
some…uh…steam really helps, if you catch my meaning. I can’t tell
you how many times I had to go that route when exam time rolled
around at Cambridge.” He grinned. “You know how it goes with
theories—you have to try them out to be sure.”

Jason slid his hand forward until his fingers closed around

Graylin’s own stirring cock. He heard Graylin’s breathing grow
shallow with tension and felt his thigh muscles constrict with need.

“That’s magic, too,” Jason said. “A different kind.” Graylin didn’t

object as he untied the laces at the front of his trousers and reached
inside. Jason was gratified, though a little unnerved, to discover that
his cock felt exactly the way it had in the dreams, right down to the
rubbery foreskin that drew back from the mushroom-shaped tip. He
stroked his fingers up and down the shaft, delighting in the way the
plump veins rose under his touch. “Don’t you think?”

“’Tis wondrous,” Graylin agreed breathlessly. “I can see why

Master Freme would warn us of the potential for peril. Surely
anything so pleasurable must be dangerous, too.”

“I guess that’s true. I think the biggest danger, though, is of losing

your heart to someone who doesn’t appreciate it.”

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43

“Has that happened to you?”
“No...but then again I’ve never tried. Maybe I’m not as brave as I

think I am.”

Graylin’s eyes moistened anew. “I think you are brave. You are

also beautiful, Jason.”

“I’m not.” This time Jason blushed.
“Yes, you are.” Graylin paused, shifting his hips to make his cock

move in Jason’s hand. “Jason…have you ever actually done this
before?”

“No… I mean, only in dreams. But you know about those already.

I guess it’s safe to assume you haven’t, either.”

“Indeed I have not.” Graylin scowled. “What should we do? If we

know so little of the actual mechanics, I mean. I doubt the Book of
Knowledge could offer us much assistance.”

“I can just about guarantee that it wouldn’t. I suppose we could

follow the dreams as best we remember them. I mean, it would be as
good place as any to start.” Jason propped his head on his free hand,
keeping the other tucked into Graylin’s breeches. “I guess the first
thing we should do is take off our clothes.”

“All right. That sounds eminently practical.” Extracting himself

from Jason’s grip with obvious reluctance, Graylin stood and shyly
started undoing his tunic.

Jason got up as well and joined in undressing him. “Let me help.

And you can give me a hand, too.” He winked.

Graylin nodded and began tugging down Jason’s breeches as well.

Secretly, Jason was relieved and grateful for the assistance. Even
though he’d had them on less than twenty minutes, these old-
fashioned clothes did not come off as easily as polo shirts and
designer jeans.

Finally, the task was accomplished and the two stood beside each

other, as nude as they had been in the dream. It was even better,
though. Jason didn’t think he’d ever seen anything quite as beautiful
and perfect as Graylin’s body. His skin was smooth, his body nearly

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Cassandra Pierce

hairless except for a tiny golden patch of flaxen curls around his still-
swelling cock. Comparatively, Jason felt like a caveman, though he
sported no more than a dusting of hair on his chest and a scruff of
charcoal-colored pubes. Graylin didn’t seem to mind at all, though.
Instead, he seemed fascinated.

“You can touch me if you want,” Jason suggested. Nervously,

Graylin started stroking his body, starting with the fine hairs around
his nipples. Before long, he had skimmed his way down and was
touching Jason’s cock. Apparently the heat rising from Jason’s groin,
or perhaps the rawness of his circumcised shaft, startled Graylin. He
started to pull away, but Jason guided his hand back into position.
“Don’t be afraid. You won’t hurt me. Do it just like in the dream.
Remember?”

“I do.” Graylin swallowed. He tightened his fingers, encircling the

rigid cylinder of flesh. Jason did the same to him. Soon they were
tugging and caressing each other, this time without the interference of
the water flowing around them. Jason even used his thumb to polish
the radish-red tip poking out over Graylin’s foreskin.

“Maybe we should get back on the bed,” Jason suggested. As they

clambered onto the mattress, Jason reached out and guided Graylin
into a kneeling position. Crouching in front of him, Jason slowly
lowered his mouth to Graylin’s cock.

Graylin gasped and squirmed, threading his fingers through

Jason’s hair.

“That feels…wonderful,” he whispered in awe.
Jason paused, leaned back, and looked up at him. “Why don’t you

try it, too?”

Again guiding Graylin’s movements, Jason pivoted around so

they lay in a 69 position. They began slowly at first, and Jason
suspected that Graylin was still concerned about hurting him.
Eventually, though, he grew more confident. They picked up the pace
and let their natural passions guide them.

Jason’s Fortune

45

Limbs entwined, they swallowed each other down without shame,

fear, or inhibition. Graylin appeared to love every moment of it.
When he finally came, his eruption only seconds behind Jason’s, he
did not seem the least bit concerned about squandering his energy.
Jason was pleased that his improvised technique had worked to
perfection, and that his common sense had dispelled that quaint but
inhibiting notion. He had yet to hear of a case in which repression did
anyone any good. They rocked together, sweating bodies pressed
tight, wrapping their mouths around each other, sucking and licking
away the sweet droplets of cream.

As far as making gold…Graylin would just have to live with the

disappointment shared by every alchemist who had ever lived, that
such a feat simply wasn’t possible no matter how much personal
sacrifice was involved.

Mutually sated, they curled up and dozed, their bare skin warm

together. Jason slept better than he had in a long time, his arms around
Graylin’s shoulders and Graylin’s arms around his waist. He still
didn’t know where he was, exactly, or who these odd people were
who had allowed one of their own to attack him and then taken him
in. Still, he could figure all that out later. For now, he was content to
enjoy the moment.

* * * *

Evening shadows slanted across the room as Jason woke and

slipped out of bed. Careful not to rouse Graylin, he crept to the door,
opened it, and poked his head out. A few young men were milling
around in the hall, wearing the peculiar garb he’d now gotten used to.
The roughly hewn wood floor was covered with rushes. What a
bizarre place this was!

Ducking back inside, he pulled his own clothes on and then made

his way down the narrow corridor. The passersby had disappeared,
allowing him to steal away unnoticed. He felt a bit guilty leaving

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Cassandra Pierce

Graylin alone, but the time to take action was now long past. When he
figured out how to get home, he was sure Graylin would accept his
invitation to come along. Deep down, he was probably as eager to
leave this odd community as Jason was.

Unsure what he was looking for, Jason began opening every door

he saw and peering inside. One led into a clean but bizarre sort of
washroom, with jugs and basins of water instead of sinks and stalls
that featured wooden seats with holes instead of ordinary commodes.
Most of the other doors fronted primitive rooms that looked a bit like
classrooms, of a sort—perhaps the sort his ancestors had attended in
preindustrial times. A few of the chambers contained shelves and
tables holding more of those oversized, leather-covered books like the
one Graylin had been reading. No doubt they were fakes, created for
the purpose of entertaining whatever tourists would eventually
wander into this make-believe world, but he marveled at the
workmanship that had gone into the replicas. Some of them looked
more convincingly medieval than the ones in his university’s
archives.

The last door on the left offered a surprise. The man he knew as

Master Freme stood in the middle of a pantry, of sorts, gazing at a
row of earthenware vessels bearing parchment labels in that same
antiquated handwriting he’d seen in Graylin’s book. Before he could
make a hasty exit, Freme turned and stared at him, his silky brows
lifting on his forehead.

“I see you have recovered. So much for Graylin keeping you quiet

and restricted to one room. What can I do for you?”

“Just one thing. I want to know what this place is, and how I got

here. And I want my mobile phone back so I can call my brother and
have him pick me up.” And Graylin, too, if he’s willing.

“I can return your device, but it will do nothing for you here.”
Freme approached the shelves and opened one of the jars, from

which he removed the mobile phone and the ring, which had been
cleaned to reveal a gorgeous silver signet bearing his family initial.

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47

Freme handed both to Jason, who slipped the ring into the inside
pocket of his tunic and turned the phone on. He watched the display
flash and fade immediately. No reception. He could have guessed.

“All right, so calling won’t work.” He shoved the phone into a

different pocket of his tunic. “Then take me to the nearest road and
I’ll start walking, unless you have a car I could borrow. I’d be happy
to pay you back for the gas and the rental.”

“We keep no such devices here,” Freme said smugly.
“How do you go places, then? Horses? Bicycles? I’ll take

anything. My brother will be worried about me. I need to let him
know that I’m alive—and it wouldn’t hurt to let a professional look at
this head wound you keep talking about.”

Freme sniffed. “My diagnosis is more accurate than any

professional from your world could ever make, and the poultice that
Graylin mixed for you will prove far more effective than any of their
supposed cures. It is also admirable that you wish to ease your
brother’s mind. However, we never leave our settlement except on
foot, and at present, I cannot permit you to do so. The sky is growing
dark, and you are in no condition to set out alone.”

“I’m fine, and I’m not afraid of a little walking. A car will pick

me up eventually, or my mobile will start working.”

Freme shook his head. “I want to monitor your progress for a

while yet. Let us speak of it again in the morning. Meanwhile, you
may join us in our evening meal.”

“Yeah, some food would definitely help me recover.” Jason’s

stomach rumbled. Many hours had passed since he’d eaten.

They were interrupted by a ragged panting sound. Jason looked

around to see Graylin rushing into the room, obviously having dashed
down the hall in pursuit of him. At first, he was too cowed by the
sight of Master Freme to say anything.

“I am pleased you could join us,” Freme said in an arch voice.

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Cassandra Pierce

“Forgive me, Master Freme—I fell asleep,” Graylin choked out

between pants. “Over my book, I mean. I was studying, as you
directed.”

“No doubt you were. No matter. Graylin, take your new friend,

and let him assist with the supper preparations. Perhaps keeping his
idle hands busy will set his mind at ease. Nothing too strenuous.”

“Yes, Master Freme.” Graylin and Jason exchanged a meaningful

glance. Then Graylin motioned for Jason to follow him. “Do you
think he suspects anything?” Graylin whispered as they walked down
another long hallway.

“So what if he does?” Jason replied. “You told me yourself—

you’re not a slave.”

“Not in the way you mean. But I am a Stonetamer by birth.

Learning the trade is my destiny.”

Jason had no response for that. Did Graylin regret what they had

done? He hoped not. Yet he didn’t dare to ask, just in case the answer
might be too painful to hear.

They ended up in a large kitchen, appallingly primitive, yet

fascinating from an academic perspective. This had to be the most
historically accurate recreation village in Britain, he was certain. How
could he have missed hearing about it?

“This is amazing,” he said, shaking his head at the immense

fireplaces and iron cookware hanging from the ceiling. “You people
thought of everything.”

Graylin looked puzzled as he moved to wash his hands in one of

the large basins on the counter. “We must eat.”

“Right.”
Soon they set to work dicing and peeling an enormous quantity of

turnips, beetroots, carrots, and potatoes. A few other young men
assisted with the cooking. Some were rolling dough and chopping
apples. Two huge bread ovens filled the room with an almost
oppressive heat. Gallons of stew boiled over long beds of red-hot

Jason’s Fortune

49

coals set into the stone floor, the cauldrons suspended from an iron
rod propped on stakes.

Jason had been wondering why the kitchen seemed so unusual and

realized that it wasn’t just the cookware. “Don’t you have women to
help you cook?”

Overhearing him, the other kitchen helpers giggled and Graylin

blushed. “The females of our community attend their own school on
the other side of the village. Mixing with them is not permitted until
our marriages are arranged. Generally, that does not happen until
much later in life.”

“Oh yeah?” Jason laughed, though he did feel a slight pang of

jealousy at the thought of Graylin finding an arranged bride, even if it
was just for show. “Bet you’re looking forward to that,” he joked, to
cover his discomfort.

Graylin’s expression soured. “No. Not at all, actually.”
“No? Why not?”
“I do not wish to take a wife. I doubt I ever shall.” Graylin

returned to the basin and washed his hands again. “Come. The meal
will be ready soon. We must take our places in the dining hall. This
way.”

He pointed to an arched stone passageway that led to a set of

closed double doors. As they walked toward the doors together, Jason
reached out and squeezed Graylin’s fingers. He was reassured when
Graylin squeezed back.

50

Cassandra Pierce

Chapter 5

“Sing that song again,” Graylin whispered as they lay in Jason’s

narrow bed after dinner. His fingers traced an abstract pattern over
Jason’s bare chest. “It sounded spectacular. I don’t know any other
way to describe it.”

Jason grinned, but Graylin’s serious expression never faded.

“Where I come from, that’s pretty standard party entertainment.
Nothing special.”

He’d begun to feel more comfortable with his surroundings the

moment they had entered the great dining hall and lined up by the
benches with the rest of the students. Master Freme and a couple of
other older men took places at the high table, just as the dons did at
Cambridge. The vegetarian meal had proved surprisingly tasty, the
bread fragrant and flavored with apples. Dessert had consisted of
blackberries, pot after pot of honey, and a weaker version of that
accursed dandelion tea. At least the drink hadn’t made him sleepy this
time. On the contrary, he hadn’t felt so energized in years…especially
after dinner, when the students gathered in the center of the room to
dance in a circle and sing. Jason had no idea what a stir he would
cause when he responded to a simple request to teach the group a
song.

“No,” Graylin insisted. “I thought it was quite special. Like you.”
“I still can’t believe you’ve never heard of The Rolling Stones,”

Jason said in wonder. This was some isolated community, all right.
The suspicious look on Freme’s face when he’d begun to sing said
more than the alchemy master’s harsh words ever could. And the way
the mysterious Wyl had eyed him moments after they’d finally met,

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51

only made him more convinced that it was time to go. The sojourn
into the make-believe past had been fun, but he was ready to go back
to the electronic world.

“There are many things I don’t know about where you come

from,” Graylin said. “Please tell me more.”

Jason had hoped he would say something like that. “I’ll do better

than tell you. If you come back to the manor with me, you can hear
plenty more songs. Rock and roll, jazz, rap, anything you like.”

“Do you have an iPod?” Graylin asked eagerly.
Jason laughed. “So you don’t know what rock music is, but you

know about iPods?”

“Yes. Wyl told me about them.”
“Well, actually, I do have one. I’ll show it to you as soon as we

get to my brother’s estate. In fact, I’ll buy you one of your own.”

“Really?” Graylin’s hand moved lower, sliding over Jason’s torso.

Soon his fingers closed around Jason’s hard cock. Jason caught his
breath and sparks of desire shot through his body. Pearly pre-cum
oozed from the tip and moistened Graylin’s fingers, as though his
cock were drooling for attention.

“Sure. We can do other things besides listen to music, too.”

Turning onto his side without dislodging Graylin’s hand, Jason began
to massage Graylin’s balls. Graylin moaned. “In fact, there’s a lot I’d
like to show you…teach you. I think you can learn at least as much
from me as you can from Master Freme. Practical things. Like how to
please your boyfriend.”

“Is that what we are? Boyfriends?”
“It’s as good a term as any.” Apparently, he’d stumbled on

another word considered too modern for Freme’s enclave. The
dedication of this community’s founders and technical experts was
truly amazing. “There are others, of course. Partners. Lovers.”

“Lovers,” Graylin repeated. “Does that mean we are in love with

each other?”

“I guess it could mean that.”

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Cassandra Pierce

“I’ve never been in love…so I don’t know what it might feel

like,” Graylin confessed. “How can one be sure?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been in love either…at least, I don’t

think I have. I suppose it might feel something like this.” Leaning
over to kiss the soft flesh between Graylin’s throat and shoulder,
Jason tightened his grip on his balls. Graylin shuddered with pleasure
as Jason worked his way down and applied a series of tongue-kisses
on the sensitive plane between Graylin’s hipbones. Slowly, he circled
his way to his jutting erection.

“I…hope it does…feel like that,” Graylin gasped as Jason covered

his shaft with his lips and dipped down. “I think…I would enjoy
being in love.”

While Jason sucked him to a pleasure apparently so intense it

made Graylin’s words trail off in a howl, he reached down and
brought himself off with one hand. He kept the other hand on
Graylin’s pulsing balls. Graylin had a point, he reflected. If this was
what being in love felt like, he hoped it lasted forever. He was almost
sorry he had waited so long to find out—but at the same time, he was
glad he had waited for Graylin.

Afterward, they curled up together, content and tranquil. The

lumpy mattress no longer bothered Jason.

When he was almost asleep, Graylin patted his thigh. “Sing now,”

he urged. “I’d rather hear your voice than the iPod anytime.”

“All right.” Though it seemed ironic to sing about a lack of

satisfaction when he was more content than he had ever been, Jason
carried on softly until Graylin’s eyes closed. Then his voice trailed
off, and sleep overtook him as well.

* * * *

In the silver of early morning, a powerful banging commenced on

the door. Graylin jumped up in Jason’s arms just as the door flew
open and Wyl entered.

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53

“Well, well, what’s been going on in here?” Wyl inquired with a

laugh.

“What does it look like?” Jason asked without moving from the

bed. He didn’t care that he was only one-third covered. “We spent the
night together. Something wrong with that?”

“Posh. I don’t care,” Wyl said. “In fact, I’m not surprised at all. I

always knew Graylin was a tricky one beneath the surface. But I don’t
think Master Freme would approve.”

“I think Master Freme needs more excitement in his own life.”

Pointedly, Jason pretended to scratch his cock through the blanket.
Wyl’s expression changed when the outline of his hard-on rose
against the coarse fabric.

“I doubt he would agree. In any case, Graylin needs to come with

me. Freme says we must start preparing for the Inspection. Dress
yourself, and meet me by the oratorium straight away.”

Still grinning, Wyl turned and let himself out again.
Jason watched Graylin leap out of bed and hastily snatch up his

clothes. “What is this Inspection everyone keeps talking about? Some
kind of test?”

“Yes. A most important exam that may determine our futures,”

Graylin said nervously, pausing to wash his face and wet down his
hair in the basin on the sideboard. “I must demonstrate the ability to
turn an ordinary mineral substance into gold. I should have read the
book last night instead of…well, instead of sleeping.”

“We all need our sleep,” Jason said, stretching out against the

pillows. “Why is this so important to you, anyway?”

“As I told you, I am a Stonetamer. I am the last of the line. Wyl is

the youngest of the Silverhands. We must keep the tradition alive.”

“So you actually know people who can make gold?” Jason asked

skeptically.

“Oh, yes. My grandfather could, though he died nearly a century

ago. My father was learning, but he burned himself while tending the
athanor—the furnace—and never recovered.”

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Cassandra Pierce

An unpleasant tingle snaked down Jason’s spine. “It killed him?”

he asked, astonished. With a heavy sensation in his chest, he thought
back to the gold his Uncle Edwin had stashed on the estate, which
Mark had recovered soon after inheriting the title. Surely his uncle
hadn’t been involved with these people in some bizarre swindle? Was
this a way to melt down Anglo-Saxon treasure to prevent the
government from seizing it for a museum?

“Yes,” Graylin said. He had finished washing up and was now

putting on his clothes. “His unfinished task was left to me. Wyl and I
must learn to provide gold for the community.”

“I want to see this oratorium for myself,” Jason decided, climbing

out of bed with a new sense of determination.

“Very well. But hurry. Wyl is waiting.”
Jason nodded and reached for his rumpled tunic.

* * * *

They met Master Freme in a small room filled with more of the

oversized antique books as well as a few articles of furniture,
including a chair covered with the most fascinating set of artistic
carvings Jason had ever seen. This, he supposed, was the mysterious
oratorium. A plain wooden door at the back of the room presumably
led to the alchemical laboratory where the strange and possibly
criminal acts involving precious metals took place.

He didn’t have much time to wonder about that, however. Once

he, Wyl, and Graylin had assembled, Freme pulled back a floor-length
curtain, and a man who appeared older than the earth itself stepped
forward. His bent body was draped in a luxuriously heavy robe, its
surface adorned with the same odd symbols as those carved into the
chair, and he leaned on a thick walking stick that looked as though it
might double as a cudgel should the need arise. The man raised his
wrinkled face to each of the young men in turn, his watery, blue eyes
glinting with a touch of menace.

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55

“I trust things will go better this time, Mynogan?” he asked Freme

without looking around. “I would hate to think I journeyed all the way
from the village for a repeat of last season’s disaster.”

“We have two excellent apprentices here, Master Ademus,”

Freme said, shooting Jason an icy glare. “They have been studying
every day from first light to last. They will do much better this
Inspection.”

“Only two?” The old man squinted up at Jason. “This man is not

an apprentice? No—my eyes are not what they used to be, but I can
see that he is not one of us.” The parchment-like skin crinkled in
sudden horror. “By Mercury, Mynogan, have you shared our secrets
with a human? This is an outrage!”

“Jason is here only to assist us,” Freme quickly reassured him.

“He suffered grievous wounds, and I decided to let the apprentices
cure him. As you can see, they have achieved admirable success.
Graylin mixed the poultice and the restorative tea himself.”

The old man sputtered. “Tea. Poultices. These are nothing

compared to the true art. To render gold, an alchemist must be skilled
and disciplined in body and mind alike.” He squinted across at Wyl
next. “Wyl Silverhand. I see you have not been dismissed yet. Your
grandfather apprenticed with me, you know. He learned enough to
leave my service, but his gold was never considered of sufficient
quality to present to the earl—or anyone else, for that matter. As for
your father, he had no talent at all. A complete waste of my time. I
hope you have not inherited his indolence.”

Wyl blushed. “’Tis said the talent grows stronger by skipping a

generation, Master.”

“I hope so, for your sake and mine. I am old and long for my rest.

One of you must soon take my place as the Goldmaker. After a
hundred years it is long overdue. To produce enough gold for one
coin is as painful as death now. I fear another season of transmutation
will be the end of me.”

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“We shall not fail you, Master,” Freme said in soothing voice that

took Jason by surprise. Freme appeared genuinely to care for the old
man.

Ademus shuffled over to question Graylin next. “And you, the last

Stonetamer. I trust you have taken to heart the precepts set forth in the
Book of Knowledge.”

Graylin swallowed. Jason watched the pale flesh of his throat bob

and swell and longed to lean over and kiss his tension away. “I have
done my best, Master.”

“Have you? Meet my eyes—I want to see for myself.” When

Graylin did not comply at once, the old man thumped his stick on the
floor. “You will do as I say, apprentice!”

“Yes, Master.” Slowly, Graylin lifted his head. The moment he

looked into the wizened face, Ademus exploded in fury.

“This is an utter disgrace, Mynogan!” he shouted. “This man is

not pure of heart or body! What sort of instruction are you giving
these young men? I have spent my entire life in the strictest form of
chastity. To be a master alchemist, nothing less is required—as you
should know all too well.”

This time, Freme was the one to blush deeply. “I understand your

words, Master Ademus, but surely there is some mistake. Both my
apprentices have honored the requirements of their chosen
profession.”

“They have not! I suggest you confer with them before I waste my

time conducting an Inspection that one of them, at least, cannot
possibly pass.” Ademus banged his stick on the ground. Jason
suspected he would rather have swung it at each of them in turn. “And
now I would like to go to my room. This audience has been far too
trying for a man who has endured as many centuries as I have. I
should like some dandelion tea and a blackberry tart with honey
brought to me at once.”

“Yes, Master. I shall see to it myself.” Freme gave the old man a

respectful bow and offered his arm. As he escorted Ademus from the

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57

room, he turned to the three young men and shot them a glance
sharper than a poisoned dagger. “Wait here until I return. We have
much to discuss.”

“Yes, Master Freme,” Graylin and Wyl said in unison. Graylin

was trembling in fear. Wyl was grinning.

“Well, that’s settled,” Wyl said when they were alone. “We’re in

for it now. And you know what that will mean for Jason.”

Jason scowled. What was really going on here? Were they

planning to kill him? “I don’t know. Tell me.”

“He’s going to slip you an amnesia potion.” Wyl crossed his arms

and leaned in the doorway. “You know too much, Jason. You will tell
others about this place. Freme wishes you no harm, but he’s planning
to wipe your memory. I saw him looking up the recipe myself last
night after dinner.”

“No!” Graylin protested, his hands snapping into fists. “I know he

spoke of it earlier, but those were just words! He wouldn’t do such a
thing.”

“Why wouldn’t he? He didn’t want Jason here in the first place.

Now he’s going to fix it so Jason goes back to his old life and his own
world, and forgets you. You’ll have to forget him, too. A Stonetamer
must be married to his work, not another man, however sweetly he
sings after dinner.”

Graylin tried, and failed, to swallow a heartbroken sob. He

reached for Jason’s hand, and Jason squeezed his fingers with more
reassurance than he really had a right to offer.

“I don’t want you to forget me, Jason. I don’t want to forget you

either, not for a hundred thousand bushels of gold coins.”

“I don’t want that, either,” Jason promised. He felt his own throat

tighten with emotion.

“It’s inevitable, don’t you see?” Wyl shook his head in frustration.

“Unless…”

“Unless what?”

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“I think you two can get away if you leave right now. Freme will

be busy with the old man for a while—no one else knows of his
anger. They will assume you’ve gone out to collect fresh plants for
your lessons. When Freme returns, I’ll tell him you went back to your
room to get your book. Go now—out to the forest. Don’t waste a
moment!”

Graylin’s fingers tightened around Jason’s hand as the two of

them looked at one another. Trusting Wyl was not the best option, but
what choice did they really have? Freme could return any minute.

“Let’s go,” Jason said.

* * * *

The two of them slipped from the Hall of Learning and out into a

cobbled lane. Jason stared in astonishment. Around them lay an active
and fully populated village, the buildings and costumes entirely
faithful to an England of at least three hundred years ago. Jason saw
no horses or other animals, though. People pulled their own carts and
wagons and traveled on foot over the dark-cobbled streets. It was the
most amazing reenactment he had ever seen.

A few of the passersby paused, looking at him oddly. Jason met

their stares evenly, unwilling to seem as though he were intimidated.
Only then did he realize that no one around them appeared to be a
tourist or guest from the modern world.

“They never see strangers. They are curious about you,” Graylin

explained. “But we can avoid them. This way.” Graylin ducked
behind a modest-looking thatched structure. Behind it, a path
extended from the barrels to the deep, rich forest—hopefully the same
forest that backed the Sidwell estate.

“Come on,” Graylin said. The two of them took off at a quick jog

and were soon well into the woods. They avoided the threadlike path
that the villagers had worn down over time. Instead they struck off
through the tangled bushes and weeds and fought their way through a

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59

less-traveled area. Their progress was slow and difficult, and the
burning sun soon exhausted Jason.

“How far are we from my house?” Jason asked, breathing harder

than he found comfortable. He looked around, hoping something
would strike him as familiar, but nothing did…though it didn’t seem
entirely new to him either.

“Still a fair distance,” Graylin confessed. His face took on a

strained look. “May we rest for a bit?”

“Good idea.” In truth, Jason felt he needed a break, too. So much

had happened in such a short span of time that he felt exhausted.
Graylin didn’t look much more enthusiastic than he did, as he
slumped on the grass and propped his head in both hands. “This
whole thing must be really hard on you,” Jason said, stretching out
beside him. “Thanks for coming with me, though.”

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to forget alchemy

and Master Freme,” Graylin said, dropping to the ground with a thud.
“Yet I cannot. My responsibility to my family weighs on my mind.”

“You said your father had died in an accident,” Jason said,

plucking some grass and twirling it in his fingers. “Is your mother
alone now?”

Graylin nodded. “It seems likely she will remarry, though thus far

she has not expressed any desire to do so. She is young yet—barely
one hundred of your human years. Perhaps that is the reason she
values her independence.”

Jason’s brows lifted, but he said nothing. Had Graylin just said his

mother was a hundred years old? “You have no siblings?”

“People marry late in my community. Most marriages are not

arranged until both parties are upward of six decades or more. So it
was with my parents. I was their only child, so it remains up to me to
protect her. I have not been able to do so from the Hall of Learning.
Six years, and I have not yet satisfied Master Freme.”

“He sounds like he’d be difficult to please.”
“Yes,” Graylin agreed.

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“He’ll be furious when he discovers us gone, won’t he?” Jason

asked, suddenly worried. “He’ll chase after us.”

“I think I can take care of that, at least for now.” Standing,

Graylin walked in a circle around Jason, murmuring to himself. Jason
started to ask why, but Graylin motioned for silence. Finally, Graylin
raised a hand over his head and let it drop, as though he were hurling
a handful of sand into the air. Jason’s eyes widened as what looked
like crystallized dust flew over their heads.

The dust hardened into a kind of nearly transparent dome, forming

a clear barrier between the two of them and the outside world. All
Jason could see was a light, misty film clinging to the rounded
underside of the makeshift firmament.

“What the hell is that?” he asked, stunned. Graylin returned to his

place on the ground, looking pleased with himself.

“I can do some kinds of magic. I only have trouble when Master

Freme watches me. I think he intimidates me.”

“I’m sure he does, but…what I just saw isn’t possible.”
“Not in your world, perhaps. In mine, the uncommon is common.”
Jason placed his palm on the underside of the dome, which

seemed to hum in response. Some kind of force field? “I just don’t get
what’s going on here.”

“Understandable. Your world is very different from mine.

However, all you need to know for now is that this”—Graylin
indicated the sphere around them—“will misdirect Master Freme if he
does come looking for us. At least, it should do so for a few hours
while we rest. Eventually, he will decide to cast a spell of his own and
the dome will cease to protect us. I’m not sure how long we have.”

Jason gaped. It was beginning to seem like things really did work

to a different theory of physics in Graylin’s world. He touched the
dome again. The mist curled around his fingers, but the barrier
remained intact. “We need to talk about this whole magic thing.”

“May we do so later?”

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61

“Of course.” Jason got to his knees and massaged Graylin’s

shoulders. Graylin grinned and looked up at him.

“May I show you some more magic?”
“Sure,” Jason said.
Graylin closed his eyes as if concentrating. He tossed up another

handful of sparkles. When they came down, the two of them were
naked, wrapped in a warming, reddish-pink mist. Their clothes lay in
two neatly folded piles beside them.

Jason looked down at his bare skin, amazed. “How did you do

that?”

“A simple spell,” Graylin said, blushing. “I can do that one

because Master Freme never asked me to show it to him. I never got
nervous about it.”

“I should hope not.” Jason was bewildered, but he decided to go

along with things for the moment. He and Graylin settled side by side
against the grass together. Performing two spells had given Graylin
confidence. He kissed with a fervor and a decisiveness that had been
missing before.

“I want you to take me,” he said. “Not just the way you did in the

dream. You know.” Graylin’s fingers stroked Jason’s hard cock,
directing it toward his spread thighs.

Jason paused. He wasn’t sure of the exact machinations. He didn’t

want to cause Graylin pain, and he suspected he would. Yet this dome
was so warm and peaceful…things were so different here. There was
nothing to be inhibited about.

“From what I’ve read…uh…we ought to get some lube. You

know…something slippery.”

“I don’t need magic for that.” Graylin slid his mouth around

Jason’s cock. He sucked him until he was slippery with spit and
aching for release. Then Graylin turned onto his stomach and opened
his legs.

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Chapter 6

Jason took a deep breath and slid into Graylin’s body. It was a

little difficult at first, but the heat inside the dome kept them both
relaxed and their flesh warm and supple. The sweat on Graylin’s
buttocks provided extra slipperiness to ease his way down.

Nothing had ever felt so right, Jason thought as he sank his cock

in halfway. Still, he was worried about causing Graylin discomfort, so
he paused to massage the pale skin of his taut buttocks. On his hands
and knees, Graylin moaned and shifted his body enough so that Jason
could push himself the rest of the way in. Graylin’s inner muscles
rubbed his shaft like a fist as he started rocking back and forth. He
could feel every nerve ending in his cock and balls ignite and smolder
as the pressure of an unrealized orgasm built in him.

Wishing to pull Graylin into the flames with him, he dipped one

hand between his lover’s thighs and began to stroke him off, keeping
time with each lunge of his hips.

Within moments, Jason had pumped his way to a shuddering

climax that turned his body inside out. At just the right moment,
Graylin went rigid, he tilted his head back, and they came together in
the sweltering cocoon of the dome. As they slumped to the ground,
Jason felt his veins flood with the sweet nectar of complete physical
satisfaction. Magic was real after all, he decided. It existed in many
different forms.

Afterward, they turned to face each other, coated in sweat and

heady masculine musk. Jason playfully licked Graylin’s nipples. His
skin tasted spicy, like wild mint. “I love the taste of you,” he said. “I
never imagined it would be like this. I don’t know what took me so

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63

long. I only know that when I saw my brother and Dorian together,
things…clicked. I wanted that same kind of love for myself.”

“Dorian…yes,” Graylin said, his eyes taking on a faraway look.

Jason remembered his reaction the last time Dorian’s name had come
up. He stopped tantalizing Graylin’s body, propped his head on one
hand, and grew serious.

“Tell me what you know about Dorian. Please. It’s important to

me.”

Graylin eyelids fluttered. “Why?”
“Because my brother is in love with him. If there’s something he

and I should know…well, I want you to tell me.”

“Very well. I suppose there are many things I should tell you.”

Graylin sighed. “You have realized by now that I am not human. Not
in the way you are, at least.”

Though the words were difficult to say, Jason swallowed and

forged ahead. “I’m beginning to understand that, yes.”

“Well, neither is Dorian. He wandered from our world into that of

your brother. At first, it was a game to him. He planned to come
home, but their love proved too strong. I doubt Dorian will ever return
to us. He has changed too much. Our ways are no longer his. His
people are your brother’s people now.”

Jason scowled. What Graylin was saying made no sense at

all…and yet it was the only thing that did seem to fit the facts as he
knew them. He knew Mark had met Dorian out in the forest, though
the significance had escaped him at the time. His eccentric outfits and
distinctive speech patterns were other clues. “So you mean Dorian is
some kind of…uh…”

“Elf,” Graylin said with a nod. “We call ourselves elven, though

history has given us many names in many languages. We have existed
long enough to become the basis of legend. Yet the truth of our
existence is known to only a handful of humans.”

“The old legends,” Jason whispered, thunderstruck. He had

studied and laughed over such tales himself…how could he have been

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so blind? The answers had been in front of him the whole time, right
down to the proverbial pot of gold. The only difference was that these
elves did not find their gold. They manufactured it. Dorian had
brought some to their estate. Uncle Edwin hadn’t stashed it at all.
“What about the gold Dorian brought my brother?”

“That was produced by Master Ademus. The elven have paid a

tribute to your estate for many centuries in exchanged for the lord’s
protection. We will continue to do so...assuming there is someone to
create more.”

“So Mark knows about you? And my Uncle Edwin did, too?”
“Your brother knows what Dorian has told him. The earl himself

has never passed into our world. No human has. Your ability to cross
the barrier came as a complete surprise to all of us. That is why
Master Freme was so angry and why he wants to destroy your
memories of me.”

“I won’t let that happen.” Jason set his jaw. He and Mark had a lot

to talk about when he got home.

“I don’t want it to happen, either.” Graylin’s wide, gray eyes

turned toward him. They grew moist with unshed tears. “We have
kept our worlds separate for a thousand years. Surely it cannot be so
wrong to connect them.”

Jason sat up. “We should get moving. My brother and Dorian will

hide us. We can decide on a plan of action then.”

Graylin nodded. He waved his hand in an arc above them, and the

dome disappeared. A fresh, summer breeze replaced the humid, sex-
scented air that had enveloped them. Reluctantly, Jason picked up his
clothes and started to put them on.

“You might want to wait a moment before you do that,” Graylin

said, a touch of his old humor returning. He winked. “Trust me.”

“All right,” Jason said uncertainly. He stood, holding the clothes

in both hands while Graylin scooped up his own garments and took
off toward the trees in a charming sprint. Jason followed, smiling as

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65

Graylin’s smooth, white buttocks twinkled in the afternoon sunlight.
Soon he lost sight of him behind the leaves and branches.

When he stepped through a row of shrubs and into a clearing,

though, he stopped and gaped in amazement.

“The dream,” he said aloud, too surprised to keep the discovery to

himself. “I saw this in my mind.”

The pool from his dreams glittered before him, with Graylin

submerged to the waist and waving. On the bank, he saw Graylin’s
clothes, neatly folded. Beside them lay Jason’s missing pajama
bottoms.

“Yes,” Graylin called, motioning to him. “I have been here a few

times, collecting samples for Master Freme. My subconscious
supplied the background for the dream and transmitted it to you. I
thought we might refresh ourselves before continuing,”

Dropping his own clothes on the ground, Jason stepped into the

water. Everything, right down the flowers edging the rocks, looked
exactly as it had in his dream. Even the temperature of the water was
the same. Graylin held out both hands as Jason waded out to meet
him.

“You said this place would heal me,” he said, threading his fingers

through Graylin’s. “You were right. I feel as though I’m a completely
different person than the man who had those dreams. But I think it
was more than some enchanted pool that changed me. I think it was
being with you.”

“Perhaps I have finally achieved some small success in alchemy

after all,” Graylin said with a shy grin. “Perhaps you were my first
transmutation.”

“You have certainly transformed my heart,” Jason said.
“And you have done the same for me. I think there might be an

alchemist inside you, too, Jason.”

“Could be.” Bending forward, Jason touched his lips to Graylin’s.

Their kiss grew deeper and more intense until Graylin tugged his
mouth away.

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“We must continue on our journey. Master Freme is probably

tracking us by now.” Graylin stroked Jason’s cheek and then began to
swim toward shore.

“Good point.” Sadly, Jason ducked under the water and frog-

kicked back to the bank as well. As he picked up his clothes and
retrieved the missing pajama pants, he cast a final glance over the
tranquil and unspoiled spot. He doubted he would see it again. But
with any luck, he wouldn’t need to slip into a dream to be with
Graylin.

* * * *

They trudged on for what seemed like forever. Graylin began to

worry more and more about Freme following them. Every rustle in
the brush, every strange shadow, made him nervous. Jason soon
began to share his anxiety. He only hoped they were heading in the
right direction.

Finally, they heard the sound of water trickling over rocks. When

he squinted, Jason could just glimpse the silvery stream through the
thicket of brambles and wines.

“There it is,” Graylin said, pointing. “The border between my

world and yours.”

“About time,” Jason sighed in relief.
As they got closer to the water, he was shocked to see his brother

and Dorian walking around on the opposite side, a few meters
upstream. Mark was holding the metal detector, which Jason had
completely forgotten about in all the commotion, while Dorian was
examining the overturned earth where he’d dug up the ring.

He clutched Graylin’s arm in excitement. “They came to look for

me,” he said.

“It appears as though they have some help.” This time it was

Graylin’s turn to stare. Just behind Dorian and Mark stood none other
than Wyl. He was chattering and gesticulating to Mark, though Jason

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67

couldn’t hear anything he said. He doubted Wyl was confessing his
own prominent role in the misadventure.

“Who knows what tall tales he’s feeding them,” Jason said in

disgust. “We need to go over there and tell them what happened.”
Boldly he stormed into the water and started crossing the stream.
After only a few steps, he stopped short as if he’d run into an invisible
wall. “What the—?”

“You can’t cross,” Graylin explained. “The barrier works both

ways for your kind.”

After trying and failing again to move forward, Jason attempted to

call to his brother. This, too, had no effect on Mark, though Dorian
turned and stared straight at them.

“Jason! How did you get over there?” Dorian shouted, while

beside him, Mark looked utterly bewildered. Obviously he could see
or hear nothing. Wyl’s expression was unreadable, at least to Jason.
“Graylin Stonetamer—what is your part in this?”

“Is that Jason? Tell him he scared the hell out of me!” Mark ran to

Dorian’s side. His head moved back and forth, his eyes obviously
scanning the stream, but he gave no sign of recognition. “Jason!
Where the devil are you?”

“He’s fine,” said Dorian. “We have to get him back across.”
“I’m trapped?” Jason pounded on the force field with both fists.

He could see nothing holding him back, but neither could he take
another step forward.

Graylin came up beside him. “You were unconscious the first

time. Master Freme says that’s what made the difference. It’s the only
explanation.”

“You mean…?” Jason clutched the barely healed wound on his

scalp. “No way. Not that again.”

“It’s the only way I know of.”
“What’s going on now?” Mark cried, his voice edged with

frustration. He grabbed the sleeve of Dorian’s black silk shirt. “Why
can’t he come over?”

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Shuddering with resignation, Jason let his hands drop to his side.

Bending, he picked up a rock and handed it to Graylin. “Hit me over
the head. Knock me out.”

Graylin reeled in horror. “Jason, no! I could never hurt you!”
“You have to! While I’m out cold, carry me over to Dorian and

Mark. They’ll take us both to the house.”

“Do it, Graylin,” Dorian shouted. “He can’t get across otherwise!
Wyl stepped forward next. “Do you want me to come over there

and do it for you? I will if you want me to,” he called in a jaunty
voice.

“No,” Graylin said miserably.
Jason held out the rock, and Graylin took it from him with shaking

hands. Next, Graylin closed his eyes and Jason squeezed his shut, too.
Then he felt a sharp, sudden pain at the back of his head, and
everything went black.

* * * *

Morning at Sidwell Manor dawned sunny and warm, not at all

gray and wet as was usual for England. Jason interpreted the
favorable weather as a good omen.

He turned over and found Graylin asleep next to him. His body

was relaxed, but Jason noted that his face was not entirely peaceful.
He knew the guilt of deserting his home, his studies, and his mother
wore heavily on Graylin’s elven mind and heart. Mark had sensed it,
too, though Dorian’s critical glances had probably had more to do
with his going easy on the questioning. The earl was furious about all
the worry Jason’s disappearance had put him through, naturally, but
Jason sensed he was also jealous. After all, Jason had seen and
experienced the elven world Mark had only heard about through
Dorian.

When Graylin’s clear eyes opened and met his, Jason felt his heart

melt all over again.

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69

“How was your first night in my world?” he asked.
“Comfortable,” Graylin said, squirming deeper into the soft

flannel sheets and tangle of thick blankets. “I like being here.”

“Good—because I like having you here.”
Graylin’s brief smile turned into a worried scowl. “I am not so

sure your brother feels the same way.”

“Oh, I’ve learned over the years not to worry about my brother’s

moods.” Jason stretched out beside Graylin and stroked his fingers
down the groove in the center of Graylin’s silky back. “He takes
everything too seriously.”

“But he is the Earl of Sidwell,” Graylin said, his voice catching in

fear. “He is your lord as well, brother or not.”

“Good grief, don’t say that in front of him, or his head will swell

even bigger than it already is. He’d love to be in charge of everything
around here, true enough, but I’m not about to give him that
satisfaction. Don’t worry, beheading unruly serfs went out of style
centuries ago. Not even Mark would want to bring that tradition
back.”

“But he was clearly displeased when you returned here yesterday.

I feel fortunate that he allowed me to remain at all.”

“You’re my guest, and don’t forget it.” Jason bent down to kiss

Graylin’s neck and shoulders. His hand closed around Graylin’s cock,
and he was gratified to feel the shaft harden instantly. The round tip
moistened with anticipation. “I already told you—I want you to stay
for a long time.”

“I’d like that,” Graylin murmured, his own fingers mimicking

Jason’s. Soon they were stroking and pleasuring one another, wrapped
in the protective warmth of Jason’s bed. They writhed together in a
mutual release, breathing hard and sweating.

Someone pounded on the door. “Up and at ’em, lovebirds!” Wyl’s

raucous voice assaulted their ears. “Breakfast awaits! The lord of the
manor has summoned us!”

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“Ugh.” Jason sank back and groaned. He was hungry and ready

for coffee, but another self-righteous lecture from his brother at the
table didn’t appeal to him at all.

Twenty minutes later, washed and dressed—with Graylin

fidgeting in some of Jason’s modern clothes—the two entered the
dining room. Anthony stood beside him, wielding a silver coffeepot,
while Dorian and Wyl were seated on either side of him.

“The food here is wonderful,” Wyl said, polishing off his plate

and holding it up. “Another helping, Uncle Anthony, if you please.”

“Uncle?” Jason darted lifted brows at Mark. “You mean Anthony

is….”

“An elf,” Wyl answered. “You can say the word. It’s not an insult,

though Uncle has probably forgotten that after all these centuries
among humans.”

“Indeed I have not forgotten my origins,” Anthony said stiffly. “I

beg your pardon, my lord.”

“That’s all right,” Mark said. “Might as well explain the situation

to Jason.” He grinned. “It’s a doozy, trust me.”

“You and Anthony are related?” Jason repeated.
Wyl nodded. “He’s my uncle—of a sort, anyway. You see,

Anthony’s brother Aelwyn was my great-grandfather. The old coot
would be about four hundred now—was he older or younger than
you, Uncle? I always get confused.”

“My brother was exactly one year and three months older than I,”

Anthony replied with barely concealed annoyance. “We have not
spoken since the seventeenth century.”

“Good lord,” Jason breathed.
“Yes, well, if he’d had the sense to come and live on the estate

with you, he might not have turned into the village curmudgeon. He
still complains about you taking his best cloak with you when he left.”

“Indeed. The cloak was mine. The material rotted away in the

middle of the nineteenth century, or I would have you carry the old
rag back to him when you leave us.” Anthony moved over to refill

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71

Wyl’s plate. When he had finished transferring a large quantity of
fluffy scrambled eggs, he straightened and scowled, patting his
pockets.

Clearing his throat, he held out his open palm. With a theatrical

sigh, Wyl dropped an ornate pocket watch into it. “Your sleight of
hand skills may impress Master Freme,” Anthony said smugly, “but
rest assured, they are not welcome in this house. You will leave the
objects here as you found them.”

“Nothing impresses old Freme,” Wyl said with his mouth full.

“Especially not our friend the Stonetamer here. You can count on a
thrashing when you get back, Graylin. He would thrash Jason, too, if
he weren’t the brother of an earl.”

“No one is going to be thrashed,” Mark said. “Still, the question is

a legitimate one. What are you planning to do, Mr.—
ah…Stonetamer?”

“He’s going to stay with me,” Jason said. “I told you yesterday.”

His head began to throb. Graylin’s blow had been enough to knock
him out, and it had left a fresh bruise. Much as he didn’t want to see
Freme, he could have used another poultice for his aching skull.

“You would do that, Graylin?” Dorian spoke in a quiet, serious

voice. “You are prepared to leave everything behind?”

“You’ve done it,” Graylin replied in a defensive tone.
“Yes. I knew in my heart that Mark was worth giving up my old

life for. Not everyone could make the sacrifice that Anthony and I
have made, though.” Dorian’s eyes met Anthony’s, and a look of sad
understanding passed between them. “Once one has left the elven
world, returning is both physically and emotionally strenuous. The
longer we remain on this side of the barrier, the more difficult it is to
be as we once were.”

“Graylin and I want to be together,” Jason said. “I love him, and

he loves me. You can appreciate that, Mark.”

“And I want you to be sure you know what you’re doing—you,

too, Graylin.”

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Cassandra Pierce

Wyl stared at Graylin. “What about your duty to become the

goldmaker?”

“I am not a goldmaker.” Graylin’s cheeks flushed a fiery red.

“You know as well as I that I have no skill at transforming anything.”

“You do have magic,” Jason said. “I’ve seen it.”
“Well, Master Freme will never let me take that job for myself,”

Wyl said bitterly. “He doesn’t trust me.”

“Perhaps you should work on becoming a man he can trust,”

Anthony said, holding up the pilfered watch. He dangled it by its
chain for a moment before snapping it into his waistcoat pocket. “I
shall refill the coffeepot, my lord,” he told Mark before marching off
into the kitchen.

“Anthony has a point,” Jason said. “You’ve attended the Hall of

Learning, same as Graylin. Why can’t you finish the alchemy course
and take his place?”

“I shall…one day. Meanwhile, what about your mother?” Wyl

asked.

Graylin slumped a bit in his seat, his face paler than usual. He

took his duties seriously, Jason thought again. Wyl probably had no
idea how those very issues wore on Graylin’s mind…or perhaps he
did and simply enjoyed tormenting him.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Jason suggested. He got up and held out his

hand to Graylin, who took it and stood. He still didn’t look happy.
“We both ate too much. Besides, I want to show you some more of
the estate.”

They left the house without speaking and headed down to the back

garden.

“Your mother will be all right,” Jason said as they passed the

bubbling fountain Mark had restored. The steady pulse of the water
usually made him feel relaxed, but today he found it jarring rather
than soothing. “You said yourself she was likely to remarry. She’d
want you to be happy. And in spite of what Dorian said, I don’t see
why you can’t visit her whenever you want. I guess it’s different for

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73

Dorian. He didn’t have much family. No one he really misses,
anyway.”

Graylin sighed. “Dorian always was a bit different. The whole

village knew that.”

“He’d have to be a little batty to put up with my brother.” Jason

said and laughed. He squeezed Graylin’s fingers. “I’m glad you want
to stay. I want to give you so many things…show you everything my
world has to offer. You won’t believe how much there is to see. The
iPod is just the tip of the iceberg.”

“What is an iceberg?” Graylin asked.
“See? This is going to be amazing for both of us.” Jason pulled

him close and the two kissed for a long, lust-filled moment. Finally
Jason broke it off. “We’d better go in. Mark will go insane if we do
something improper outside.”

On the way back to the house, Graylin stopped to pick up some

smooth, dark spheres off the ground.

“Horse chestnuts,” Jason said. “Some people make necklaces out

of them. I think they’re only good to throw at older brothers.”

“Actually, they have many uses. We can make a variety of

poultices from them. Master Freme showed me how. I can show you,
too, later.” Eagerly, Graylin filled the pockets of his borrowed jeans
with a handful of them while Jason watched with amusement.

The moment they reentered the house, Jason could sense that

something had changed. Though the entire household had occupied
the breakfast room only moments before, he saw no sign of anyone
except Anthony, who waited by the front door with his usual dour
attitude.

“Where is everyone?” Jason asked.
“Your brother awaits you in his study, sir,” Anthony replied with

a slight bow. “Both of you, that is.”

“Now what?” Jason wondered aloud. Graylin offered an endearing

shrug. “All right, then. Let’s get this over with.”

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Cassandra Pierce

The two of them crossed the hall and entered the study without

knocking. Jason was surprised to see not only Mark, but Dorian and
Wyl all standing in front of the bookcases, clearly worried.

“What are you—” Jason started to say, but the last words faded on

his tongue. Someone occupied Mark’s enormous desk, he realized.
Someone he hoped he’d never see again.

Beside him, Graylin gasped. “Master Freme,” he whispered.

Jason’s Fortune

75

Chapter 7

Jason, Graylin, and the others stared, speechless, as Master Freme

raised himself to his full, imposing height. His silvery-blue eyes
flashed in anger and his long, white-blond hair seemed to stand on
end with the force of his emotion.

“Your unbridled passions have caused my people endless trouble,

Jason Rampling,” he snarled. “You were our guest, but you abused
our hospitality most shamefully. First, you corrupted my pupil. Then
you disrupted our entire way of life. Finally, and worst of all, you
robbed my community of its most precious resource—our
Stonetamer.” Freme paused to glare at Dorian. “We could get along
quite well without this idle dreamer, perhaps, but Graylin’s talents are
sorely needed. In time, I could have taught him skills that would
sustain us for centuries!”

Bristling, Jason stepped between Freme and a trembling Graylin.

“You seem to overestimate the effectiveness of your teaching. All you
ever did for Graylin was make him feel useless and inadequate. With
me, he does magic all the time—that’s because I make him happy
instead of afraid. I honor his gifts instead of belittling them. I focus on
what is beautiful about him, rather than dwelling on his flaws. You
have plenty of those yourself, you know.”

“Jason, stop,” Mark said, but Jason ignored him.
Freme did not seem the least bit intimidated. “Nonsense! I am

quite sure you have enjoyed your time with Graylin, and he with
you—that is not in question. Yet what is a few decades, or less,
compared to the traditions of our ancestors, stretching back two
thousand years, to the times of Stonehenge and beyond? You may not

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agree with my methods, most likely because you do not understand
them, but rest assured that my way is the best and only way. History
has proven that. And I stand by my belief that Graylin must conserve
his strength, not squander it on a brief dalliance.”

Jason tensed, ready to argue, but Graylin pulled him back.
“Stop it, Jason, I beg you! I’m sorry, Master Freme, but I can’t do

what you want. I can’t perform alchemy. For six years, I have trained
and failed every time. That’s a fact.”

“You will certainly be remembered as a failure if you give up

now,” Freme snorted. “And if you choose to stay here with these
humans, your powers will wither and fade, useful only for party tricks
to amuse your new friends. If that prospect appeals to you, then in fact
you might as well stay. You are obviously not fit to live among the
elven, and your lack of ambition makes you useless to us. That
includes Master Ademus, your mother, and me.”

Graylin stared at his former mentor, his cheeks and forehead

reddening as his temper flickered to life. His lips parted to draw in a
deep breath, and his silvery eyes darkened to a hard iron-gray. Jason
and the others watched as a smoldering reddish-gold glow began to
emanate from his body. Soon Graylin planted his feet against the
floor, clenched his fists, and tilted his head back. An eerie ululation
issued from his throat, as though he were falling into a trance or a
seizure.

“Graylin!” Jason cried in panic, starting toward him, but Dorian

grabbed him by the arm and held him back.

“Wait,” he cautioned, his own eyes fixed on Graylin. “He’ll be all

right in a moment.”

As they watched, Graylin seemed to grow calm and recover

himself. The glow subsided gradually, and the sound in his throat
faded. When he lowered his chin and blinked at them again, his eyes
had returned to their normal coloring. Yet something in his face
seemed different. Jason saw the change, though he doubted anyone
else did.

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77

Slowly, Graylin slipped his hands into the pockets of the jeans

he’d borrowed. When he drew them out and opened his fists,
everyone gaped in amazement. The five horse chestnuts he’d gathered
earlier had transformed into gleaming nuggets of pure gold.

“And that, my friends, is alchemy at its finest,” Dorian said with a

smile. “Well done, Graylin.”

In truth, Graylin appeared more astonished than anyone. He barely

reacted when Master Freme rushed forward to embrace him.

“You are indeed worthy of the name Stonetamer,” Freme

announced, his voice tight with emotion. “You are a man of talent and
passion alike…the two essential traits an alchemist requires. I cannot
say I am as surprised as your friends here—I knew from the
beginning that you were destined for a glorious future.”

“But you just told me I wasn’t worthy of a place in the

community,” Graylin protested, still looking down at the gold in his
hands. He couldn’t quite seem to believe it, either. “You called me
useless and without ambition.”

“And how else was I to goad you into revealing the true nobility

of your nature? Apparently Jason is not the only one here who fails to
understand the methods of a dedicated instructor. In any case, the
matter must be settled now, and quickly. You must return to the
community with me—and Wyl, too, I suppose.” Freme glanced with
barely disguised annoyance at Wyl, who flashed him a defiant glance
in return. “You must complete your apprenticeship by demonstrating
your skill in front of Master Ademus and then take your rightful place
among us as the stonetamer.”

Once again, Graylin seemed near tears. “But what of Jason?”
“If Jason truly cares for you, he will not hold you back from doing

what you were born to do. Graylin, I must confess something to
you—something I have not spoken of for nearly half a century, since
Master Ademus commanded me not to. At that time, I was his
apprentice, and it was thought that perhaps I would become the

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community goldmaker. Yet I failed him—in much the same way he
considers that you have failed me.”

Graylin swallowed. “You mean you…did not remain pure of heart

and…body?”

“I am afraid I did not. I loved, just as you and Jason have. Master

Ademus discovered my transgression and told me I could never be
more than an adept—teaching others to avoid the very mistakes I
made. I did not challenge him. I enjoyed teaching, and besides, in the
end, my feelings were not strong enough to inspire any fight in me.
Certainly they were not strong enough to give me the courage to flee
everything I had ever known, as you did. To this day, I disagree with
Master Ademus on that one point. In my view, ’tis the sacrifice, and
not the avoidance, of temptation that refines a man’s character, much
as our magic refines baser substances into gold.”

“I wish I had known this before.” Graylin’s voice dropped to

nearly a whisper.

Freme shook his head sadly. “You were not ready to hear it

before. You were an apprentice then—a boy. Now you are ready to be
a man—an adept, a master in your own right.” He held out his hand.
“Come back with me now.”

“No!” Jason cried, finally shaking off Dorian’s restraining grasp.

“He’s going to stay here! We had our future planned!”

Graylin turned to Jason, his tears falling freely this time. “I’m

sorry, Jason. This is what I was meant to do. My mother and all the
Stonetamers who came before me have expected it since my birth. I
will not abandon you, though. I promise I will visit you—and listen to
the aye-Pod, even.”

“No,” Jason said weakly, suppressing a sob of his own. The

promise was an empty one. They all knew it. “Don’t go, Graylin,
please.”

“He must, and you know it,” said Freme. “Wyl, come forward.

Everyone else stand back.” He drew a corked flask from his robes and
held it out. Inside the glass, brief flashes of light winked inside a puff

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79

of swirling smoke, as though the vessel were filled with a cloud of
fireflies.

When he uncorked it, thick smoke and bright white light

dominated the room. When it faded after a moment or two, he,
Graylin, and Wyl were gone.

A single gold chestnut remained on the desk. Jason picked it up

and found that it felt warm against his fingertips. Mark and Dorian
rushed forward, both to see the memento and to put comforting arms
around Jason.

“Are you all right?” Mark asked with genuine concern.
“Yes,” said Jason, forcing himself not to shake. Never had he told

such a bald-faced lie.

“You’ll get past this.” Dorian gripped both of Jason’s arms as if

he expected him to collapse. “There are certain things in this life we
all have to accept. Destiny is one of them.”

“Destiny…yes. He’s doing what he was meant to do,” Jason

repeated, his tongue and lips numb with pain. Dorian had a point.
Graylin had a right to follow his destiny, and so he had.

What Jason’s might be, he had no idea.

* * * *

Over the next few days, Jason’s life continued, sad and colorless.

The gray, wet weather returned, and his heart felt like a lump of ore in
his chest. He tried everything to distract himself from the constant
pain that tormented his body and mind, including reading the books
he’d bought in the city and even mailing away for information on law
schools. Nothing seemed to work for long. By nighttime, the old
agony returned, keeping him from sleeping or even joining Mark and
Dorian at the dinner table. To their credit, they seemed to understand
and let him be. Jason appreciated their consideration. They probably
sensed that watching them together would be enough to send him
round the bend.

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Cassandra Pierce

On the morning of the fourth day since his return, Jason finally

picked up the clothes he had worn at the Hall of Learning. Earlier, he
had kicked them under his bed, having no desire to open a fresh
wound by even looking at the elf-fashioned garments again. He
supposed the time had come to make a decision about them, though
whether he should wash them or burn them, he couldn’t decide.

Either way, he had to empty out the pockets. In one he discovered

his cell phone, working again, and from the other he drew out the
signet ring he had dug up by the stream. In all the commotion, he had
nearly forgotten about the only genuine treasure he had ever
uncovered.

At last, he had found something positive to occupy his mind.

Trudging downstairs, he located Anthony.

“Anthony, clearly you’ve worked here a long time—much longer

than I ever suspected, at least. Do you recognize this ring at all?”

Anthony took the ring into his palm, turned it over a few times,

and nodded. “That is the seal of Charles Rampling, your ancestor. A
younger brother of the earl at the time. He moved to the Colonies in
1774, I believe. I packed his trunk myself. We never saw him again.”

“Why do you think he would have buried his ring by the stream?”
Anthony sighed. “I am afraid there was a touch of scandal

associated with his leaving for America. It turned out that he had been
carrying on a liaison with a member of the…ah…community.”

“The elves, you mean.” Jason’s jaw tightened. So much for

distracting himself.

“I do. A young woman by the name of Ixa. I never met her, but all

who did said she was nothing less than enchanting. I suppose he left
the ring there for her to remember him by. Presumably she was
supposed to come and take it back with her.”

“So they never saw each other again,” Jason said sadly. For some

reason, the story of Charles and Ixa’s breakup hurt almost as much as
remembering his own.

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81

Anthony’s thick, white brows shot up on his forehead. He dropped

the ring back into Jason’s hand. “I beg your pardon, sir—that is not
what I meant to imply at all. No—Miss Ixa accompanied him to the
Colonies, as they were known then. She must not have had time to
retrieve his trinket before she set off after him.”

“Really? That’s amazing.”
“Indeed, sir. We can only hope they lived a long and happy life

together. For all I know, Ixa may still be alive. We are an
extraordinarily long-lived race, you know.”

“Yes,” Jason said. Anthony withdrew. Jason put the ring on his

finger and wandered out into the garden. So Charles and Ixa had
given up everything to be together, he mused as he dropped to the
ground beside the fountain. Dorian had also forfeited all he had to be
with Mark. Yet Graylin was not willing to do the same for Jason. The
thought opened an entirely fresh wound in his heart.

Thinking of all the years he would never have with Graylin, all the

songs he would never be able to teach him, and all the places they
would never go together, Jason wept.

Suddenly, he felt a strange heat rise from the pocket of his jeans.

The sensation was so intense that it quickly grew painful. Bewildered,
he reached in and pulled out something that most certainly hadn’t
been there before, a solid gold chestnut.

Moments later, he looked up to see Graylin shimmer into position

in front of him. He had to be hallucinating, Jason thought. His
heartbreak had finally driven him round the bend.

“You look like you’re about to faint,” the Graylin-mirage said.

“Please don’t. Making myself invisible is another little trick I learned
since I went back with Master Freme. I can only do it for a few
minutes at a time, but it’s a useful skill, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I—but no. This isn’t real. I shouldn’t give in to this fantasy

by talking to you.”

Graylin shook his head. “It’s real enough, Jason. I’m back. And

I’m staying. I can’t tell you how sorry I am for putting you through

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what I did for the last couple of days. It wasn’t any easier for me. But
I had to make things right. I hope you can understand that—and
forgive me.”

He knelt down on the grass and extended his hand. Jason reached

out and tentatively accepted it. His flesh felt warm and solid. Not like
a dream—not even like the dreams that took place in the healing pool.

“But what about the village?” Jason asked, his mind racing at

impossible speeds. “Your duty? Your mother?”

“’Twas my mother who insisted I return, once I explained the

situation to her. She says I deserve my happiness as much as she
deserves hers. In time, she plans to marry again. She is not at all
lonely—in fact, she enjoys being courted. She is fine without me, it
turns out.” He laughed, that old humor creeping back into his bright,
silvery eyes. “I underestimated her.”

“And the goldmaking?”
“In the past few days, I have created enough gold to last my

community for decades. There is a special stash to pay tribute to your
brother and the next three earls who come after him, whoever they
may be. I then convinced Master Freme and Master Ademus to train
Wyl to take my place. The competition was good for him, as it
happens. He is following Anthony’s advice and becoming a man
Freme can trust. Only yesterday, he transformed a pebble into colored
glass—and it wasn’t something he had pilfered, either. No, they will
all do very well without me. I will visit from time to time, of course.
Perhaps Dorian and Anthony will come with me. Anthony’s brother
would still like to see lim. It’s been three hundred years since they
have shared a good, cleansing argument!”

“I felt like it was three hundred years since you left me,” Jason

said. Unable to contain himself a moment longer, he broke down
weeping.

A stray tear slid down Graylin’s face as well. “I know. I must

warn you, though—Master Freme would not allow me to bring the
Book of Knowledge with me. I will not be able to learn any new

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83

magic here. He also warned me that my goldmaking powers will fade
while I remain in your world. Something about the change in energy
on this side of the stream. Soon I will be able to transform only small
objects…party tricks, as he called them, and eventually nothing at all.
However, I was willing to give that up for you. You are worth much
more than gold to me, Jason.”

“Like I told you—we don’t need potions. And I don’t need

treasure. I only need you.” Leaning forward, Jason wrapped him in a
tight embrace. Their lips crushed together, greedily devouring each
other after so many days of starvation.

“I thought the earl frowned upon public demonstrations of

untoward behavior,” Graylin said when at last they broke apart,
breathing hard.

“The earl will have to adjust to many new ways of doing things,”

Jason said.

Just then, the sun broke through the silvery, English clouds and

showered bright, golden sunlight over their entwined forms. That was
the best kind of alchemy, Jason decided.

THE END

WWW.CASSANDRAPIERCE.COM

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Cassandra Pierce has been a fan of Gothic literature for most of

her life, even studying the origins of the genre in college and graduate
school. Before long, she got the urge to create paranormal romances
of her own and is now hard at work on the third Darkisle novel
(among other projects). When she is not writing, she teaches English
(including a course on Vampire Lit) at a small New England college
and is active in a charity that rescues and rehomes abandoned pets.

Read more about Cassandra’s upcoming books at

www.CassandraPierce.com, and visit her on Facebook!

Also by Cassandra Pierce

Siren Classic ManLove: Elven Treasure 1: The Enchanted Earl

For all other titles, please visit

www.bookstrand.com/cassandra-pierce

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com