A Ghost's Wish [MxM]

27. A Guest

Oliver didn't continue speaking but nudged his horse forward.

The snow was thick, but the large Glacier Tundra stallions were not impeded by it. Oliver and Draco rode in the forefront of Oliver's soldiers.

Oliver had carefully gauged Draco, who was riding next to him. He had wondered if his fluctuating emotions and enraged moments had driven him away.

Draco glanced over and caught Oliver staring at him. "You're looking at me like you want to apologize." He said with a chuckle.

Oliver pursed his lips. "I had exposed something... unsavory."

"That would be the last word I would use," Draco smirked. "Besides, you have never seen a Lyrell lose themselves to anger. It can be quite monstrous."

There was a harrowing truth laced in his words, and Oliver felt it in his bones. He knew he never wanted to see this man, with blood-red eyes and enticing fangs, suddenly become enraged... but being monstrous was something that captivated his train of thought.

His sullen mood had suddenly shifted to intrigue, wondering what other beastly characteristics Draco Lyrell had.

Oliver rubbed his eyes, trying to clear his mind from the thoughts. "Dastardly old ghost," he chastised himself.

When he wasn't paying attention, Draco reached up and took his silver hair in his hands. He pressed his lips along the long strands.

Oliver jumped when he felt the light pull. When he turned, his face was somewhat flushed. Draco grinned. "A coin for your thoughts?"

Oliver felt his breath get caught in his throat. He could never tell Draco what he was thinking. "No. Not enough coins in the world for that."

He urged Boreas to move faster, creating more distance between the two.

Perhaps the shameless one was him, not Draco.

They made it back to the manor in the next day's early morning. There were many cheers when their group entered the compound. It didn't matter if they were servants or soldiers; they waved and called out to Oliver.

Draco was surprised to see this level of enthusiasm. He knew how hated Oliver was in the capital, but in Wynter, he was a beloved figure.

Oliver called over Timothy as he dismounted and helped Cora down. Timothy bowed low. "Lord Oliver."

Timothy was a stubborn servant and refused to exclude using titles. After months of arguing with the older man, Oliver had given up on trying to change his habits. "Draco and Cora will be our guests for the winter."

Timothy was quick to realize that both guests were injured and that they did not have many belongings. He nodded. "We will set up rooms and necessities to make their stay comfortable."

Cora tugged on Oliver's cloak. "Can our rooms be close to yours?" Her bright red eyes pulled at his heart.

He patted her on the head. "Of course. No one else resides on my floor, so you two will be welcome company."

Cora jumped with excitement, and Timothy couldn't help but be warmed by the interaction.

At first, Timothy didn't trust Oliver, but he had rapidly proven himself to the people of Wynter. He showed strong leadership, taught others with patience, and revealed a tenacity to care for his family and land.

Oliver never acted like a 20-year-old man. Instead, his nature had been carved out of discipline and war. His mind followed the path of a great General at the forefront of countless battles. When Oliver concentrated on something perplexing, his aura would shift and become sharp and commanding. Even Timothy, who has been fighting for a generation, felt compelled to bow in front of him.