Chapter 162: Manor

Nua's navigator walked them through the lost path. The lack of assassins and surprise enemies allowed the group of travellers to get to Elysium without any problems. This time, with Rowan in their company, Syryn let his guard down and traversed through the path relatively stress-free.

The navigator took them to one of Elysium's several well-known rifts. And from there, the group headed to Syryn's home.

"I've missed this place," Syryn said as he stood outside the gates of his manor.

"Would you consider moving if I presented you with a better alternative?" Rowan asked as he shifted the strap of Syryn's travel bag over his shoulder.

To have his little lover living in a house gifted to him by another man caused Rowan's jealousy to spark.

"No, I like it here," Syryn replied.

Red had left the couple at the gate. Milky and Navi were at his heels as they rushed towards the kitchen. Travelling was fun but Red found himself missing the manor and its occupants.

"Come home with me," Rowan turned to the teen.

Syryn felt a smidgen of embarrassment. Rowan's invitation was for a very specific and unspeakable purpose.

"When?"

"After a short rest here. Greet your housemates, snack a little, and then we leave."

Syryn nodded and looked away. Was he really going to throw off the yoke of his chastity? No one could stop him now, not even Traxdart!

"Come on, Ryn," Rowan called to him from the gate. "Alka and Salem are waiting for you."

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Coming back home was a bittersweet feeling. The relief of returning to familiarity and safety was marred by the absence of Magnus. They'd escaped to Nua for a change of pace but the trip had been disastrous from the start. Syryn was reminded again of Utsui, his first loss of this life time. All of Syryn's decisions had led to their culmination in the avian's death. Somehow, it was mostly his fault.

"You look gloomy," Alka commented. "I heard about the attack at Nua. What did the demons want with the place?"

Syryn shook his head, gaze fixed on the liquid in his cup - buckwheat tea, piping hot and fragrant.

"I wonder about it too," he replied. Why would Traxdart aid the iron claw tribe? Who reached out to whom? Demons never took the short end of any deal. The iron claw tribe would have given up their lifeblood to gain the aid of not one but three strong demons. It was too bad for them that Syryn had been around.

"Syryn?" A new voice joined them.

The teen turned around in his chair and smiled at Salem. The blonde alchemist had stress lines that hadn't been there when Syryn had left. The always put together Salem was looking a little haggard and tired out.

"What happened to you?" Syryn asked.

"It's the brats you sent," Alka chuckled. "They're taking his life. Neiro and Blaze are both crushing on Salem." The plant mage smirked at the pretty blond alchemist. "Right, Salem?"

The alchemist's tired eyes regarded Alka with subdued interest alight in his gaze, subdued but still there. Syryn was shaking. What had happened in his household when he was away? He looked between the two of them but the ambiguous energy had dissipated.

Lucien was away checking on his undead creations while Rowan remained a mute spectator in the conversation. Syryn looked to the blond anti mage but he wasn't a member of the manor and he didn't understand the dynamics of the relationships that prevailed at the manor. Syryn's need to gossip was shooting up his blood pressure. Where was Qairu?!

Alka gracefully poured a cup of tea for the tired alchemist.

"Syryn, I thought you were leaving for a month," Salem said as he brushed back a few strands of blond hair from his face. His long blond hair was draped over his shoulders, lending him a languorous air. Tiredness be damned, Salem was still eye candy.

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"Why? Did my early return disrupt something in the works?" The teen blurted out.

Salem's expression remained unchanged. "Whatever gave you such an idea, Syryn?" He smiled while blowing on his tea.

The teen looked at Alka who was just as nonchalant. "Alka, are you still seeing Qairu?" Syryn bluntly asked.

Rowan who had been a picture of boredom cracked an eye open.

"No," Alka clamped up after spitting out that single word.

"Since when?" Syryn gaped.

"Since the day he got engaged," Salem answered for Alka.

Syryn didn't even register the burn on his tongue as he gulped the hot tea. The tea that Alka had served was very hot.

"To whom? I thought you two were-"

"Qairu is a ruthless bastard," Alka spat out. "His ambitions come before his loyalty to me."

But why aren't you telling me the whole story? Syryn's heart cried out.

"Did you at least get the seed from him?"

Alka nodded. "It's already germinating in a pot."

"What seed?" Rowan who had been silent this whole time finally asked. It was like he had a bullshit radar.

"A tree I've been wanting to grow," the teen went for a casual and vague answer.

"What tree?" Rowan was a bloodhound that had caught the scent of something troublesome. His piercing blue gaze was fixed on Syryn.

"Why are you so nosy?!" And that had been the wrong thing to say. He had all but confirmed the anti mage's suspicions that Syryn was up to no good.

"Salem, you seem like a responsible person. What tree is Syryn planning to grow?" The blond asked his blond counterpart.

"I wasn't told anything about it," Salem replied. He had been helping Alka germinate the seed and knew exactly what was growing in the pot.

It was Rowan versus Syryn's friends. The anti mage folded his arms and looked at the three youngsters that were doing their best imitations of innocence.

"Lucien," Rowan called out when he spotted the redhead skidding on his socked feet across the corridor outside the kitchen door.

The child stuck his head in and beamed. "You called?"

"Is Syryn growing a special tree in the house?" The anti mage flashed a handsome smile at the star-struck Luci.

"Yes! A corpse tree!" He answered with all the enthusiasm of a child wanting to please his favourite adult person.

The smile on Rowan's face hung on despite the shock he had been given. "Thank you, Luci."

"You're welcome!" The child singsonged and went back to sliding on his socks over the smooth wooden corridor.

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