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Silver was dreaming. He knew it was a dream, teetering on the very edge of sleep, but he chased after it greedily. He was running. He was running so fast that he was leaping over cliffs and ships and houses, laughing, practically flying. The wind tangled in his curls, a chill blew under his nightshirt, making goosebumps rise up his legs and back.
And then he yelped and cringed away. Something icy had just pressed against his calf.
“Your feet!” Silver hissed. Beside him, Madi let out a petulant whine.
“I'm cold!” Thomas had slid in bed behind Silver. Even though he was patently wearing his shirt and breeches, he'd still somehow managed to carry the winter chill right under their blankets.
“Go to James, he's always hot as a furnace!”
This elicited a dirty snigger from Thomas, even as he pressed a freezing nose into the crook of Silver's shoulder. Silver should have pushed him away, but instead chuckled in spite of himself while his spine tingled with shivers. Madi grumbled and pulled a pillow over her head.
“Can't,” Thomas said, his breath warming the spot where his nose had been. “He's out.”
“But it's five in the morning!”
“Actually, it's nearly seven.”
Madi groaned and rolled out of bed, dragging the warmest blanket with her.
“Hey!” Silver wailed in protest.
“Might as well get up,” Madi said curtly and walked out of the room, the blanket trailing behind her. Even half asleep and grumpy, she looked like a queen wrapped in a cape.
Thomas huddled closer to Silver under the bedclothes, sliding his arms around his middle. His hands radiated cold through Silver's chemise, making goosebumps bloom on his chest and turning his nipples into hard pebbles. No matter how much Silver tried to rearrange the remaining blanket, the bed was becoming chillier by the minute.
“Where the fuck's he gone anyway?” Silver whined sleepily. “And why are you so cold?”
“We went out to see the harbour. The ice is getting incredibly thick.”
“Hmm, more customers for us, then.” The last time the harbour had frozen over, many ships had been trapped there. Bored and cold sailors had flooded the Spyglass Inn for days and they'd made a killing in profits.
“People were playing on the ice,” Thomas continued, “and James and I realised it had been a long time since we'd been skating, so…”
“Skating.” Silver turned the word around in his mouth, trying to twist his brain around it.
He'd seen people skating a couple of times in London, at the frost fair. He remembered the delighted looks on their faces. He also remembered sharp steel blades, and blood, and crying children and broken limbs.
He flipped over abruptly to face Thomas. “What?!”
Thomas chuckled, his face insufferably happy and fond. He didn't have time to answer before Madi padded in again, yawning. She threw open the shutters and Silver was briefly blinded.
“Who's doing what?” Madi asked. She smelled of charcoal after having got the fire going in the stove downstairs.
“Thomas and James want to go ice-skating!” Silver told her, sitting up in bed, blinding light be damned. He heard the tone of his own voice, that of a child ratting out a sibling to his parents – and promptly ignored that train of thought.
Madi's face wrinkled into a nonplussed expression. “Why?”
“So that he and Thomas can break limbs and end up like me, no doubt.”
That seemed to cast a sufficiently sober tone over the room. Silver didn't much like playing this card, but neither did he like the cold dread that was churning in the pit of his stomach.
“You know, I don't think I'll ever end up like you,” Thomas said thoughtfully. “I'll never have that much hair.”
Silver elbowed Thomas in the ribs and cast about for his crutch. He'd hoped that Madi would turn stern and quickly put an end to this foolish notion, but she merely looked bemused.
“What is it like, skating?” she asked.
“When done well? It feels like flying.” Thomas gave her a dazzling grin. “I used to skate every winter when I was a boy at Eton. And I'll have you know, John, that I never broke anything.”
“Probably because back then you weren't a brittle old man,” Silver muttered, pulling on his clothes.
Thomas gave an exaggeratedly outraged gasp. “I'll have you know I've skated many a time since then, too.”
“In any case, John, they are both grown men capable of making their own decisions,” Madi said as she worked oil into her braids.
“And, dare I say it, James and I have a few years of wisdom on you.”
Madi glanced at him, her eyes flicking up and down him critically. “You have a few years on us, but your wisdom has yet to be proved.” Then her lips quirked lightly, and she turned back to getting ready for the day to come.
The inn was packed. Silver had never been more grateful for the help they'd employed over the winter, and spent the morning charming customers to keep them in good spirits rather than doing anything too physical. The winter wasn't kind to his sore body, after all. Madi oversaw breakfast preparations, regal as always. From time to time, she sent a twinkling smile Silver's way, and he started to forget that he'd woken up cross.
When the mid-morning lull finally came, Thomas excitedly invited Silver and Madi outside, a pair of the dreaded skates in hand.
“I've something to show you,” he told Silver, “that'll definitely change your mind.”
“I doubt it,” Silver grumbled, but he still couldn't help reaching for his coat.
The frozen harbour was eerily beautiful. Snow had fallen during the night and piled up along the banks. Ice, thick and dark, glistened under a hazy sun. And people from all walks of life hung around the frozen water. Children with sleighs, people with skates, grown men skidding around and playing with corks and hooked sticks, rich merchants and sailors and urchins alike.
Silver spotted Flint and swallowed reflexively.
Flint was skating as though it were as easy for him as running. Easier, in fact. He glided effortlessly on the ice, hands elegantly folded behind his back, his coppery ponytail flying up behind him. He noticed Silver, Thomas and Madi looking at him and sent a crooked smirk their way, before skating off again.
Fuck.
“Did you teach him that?” Silver asked Thomas, his voice coming out deep and husky.
“Me?” Thomas scoffed; he could barely take his eyes off Flint either. “You know James. Self-taught in practically every field.”
“And excelling at everything,” Silver murmured.
“It nearly tempts me,” Madi said, “to know what it feels like, on the ice.”
Silver turned to her, pulling a face. “Not you too, Madi. You're supposed to be the wise one.”
“Sometimes, wisdom is trying new things, even if they seem risky.” A playful smile lit her face, and while Silver really didn't want to see her injured, he also couldn't come up with a single argument to discourage her.
A cork skidded into Flint's path. Silver's heart leapt while he stood there frozen. Time seemed to slow down, yet he could do nothing at all.
Flint saw the cork at the last moment and he tried to veer around the tiny obstacle. But he stumbled and skidded; his arms flew out as he tried to find his balance. After a brief struggle he landed hard on his arse and slid to a halt. He just sat there for a moment, legs spread in front of him, a dazed look on his face.
Silver only breathed with relief when Flint's face turned stormy. He couldn't have hurt himself badly if he was scowling like that. Flint glared around him, looking for someone to murder. Silver also scanned the people messing about on the river until his eyes fell on a pair of young dock workers holding hooked sticks and wearing amused expressions.
“Sorry grandad,” one of them called out.
Oh fucking hell.
“Can we have our cork back?”
Flint glowered and snatched the cork off the ice before carefully getting back up onto his skates. Silver could feel, from the goosebumps shooting up his back and the excited gallop of his heart, that this was far from over. Part of him was horrified at the prospect of Flint facing people down on ice. But worse still – another part of him really wanted to see what Flint had in store for the obnoxious dockers.
“You think you know how to handle a hockie stick?” Thomas burst out next to Silver, giving him a start. “Give us a stick and you'll see if these old men can't teach you a lesson!”
Silver tried to grab the back of Thomas' coat and Madi made to take his arm, but Thomas moved too fast. By the time they reacted, he was already making his way out onto the ice. When he'd put his skates on was anybody's guess, the sneaky bastard.
“Great,” Silver moaned, half covering his face with his gloves. “Now they can get beaten up by a mob of dock workers. On the ice.”
Madi rubbed a soothing hand along his back, but she also pressed closer to him, tension filling her body. Silver thought she was shivering, and wasn't sure whether it was with cold or nerves. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they watched Flint and Thomas discuss the game with the two dockyard boys.
“They will be fine,” she told him, though it sounded like she was trying to reassure herself.
“First to score three points!” Silver heard one of the men say, pointing at hats and gloves representing the two goals. The other man provided Flint and Thomas with sticks, a smug expression on his face.
And then they were moving. It was soon obvious from their awkward stances and graceless moves that the youngsters hadn't had much practice with skates. Thomas and Flint, on the other hand, weaved around them with practised ease.
Silver just stared, barely breathing, but not out of fear. The two of them looked incredible together, practically as incredible as they looked during other activities. Silver's mouth dropped open when Flint pushed one of the dockers with his shoulder, sending him falling on his backside. The smirk on Flint's lips, the sly look he shot Thomas, sent Silver's blood rushing south.
Madi gasped as Thomas knocked the cork away from one of the youths' sticks, appropriating it in one move, dribbling it deftly before shooting it into the opposite goal. Flint flashed Thomas a smile, shifting position to wait for their opponents' next move.
“Unless my eyes deceive me, they are looking quite… competent,” Madi said.
“Competent, yes,” Silver replied absently. “That's a word for it.”
Madi twisted to look up at him, and smirked knowingly. “Are you drooling, John?”
Silver merely chuckled in response. He was transfixed, and growing envious now. How good would it feel to dash along the ice, like Flint was doing now, facing off a pair of idiots ripe for their comeuppance? Silver could imagine the cold wind on his cheeks, the heat of Flint's body beside his and Thomas' long hands holding his elbow as he taught him how to move on ice. Now he knew why Madi was so tempted to try this out.
The game drew on, attracting a small crowd of onlookers. There were quite a few boys from the dockyard watching, but also children, some of the inn's guests, and even a couple of old men who commented that, in their day an age, they used to do much better than that.
Even though they ended up scoring a goal, the dockers had no chance. Flint was a beast, heavy and powerful, fearlessly diving forward, daring them to stay in his path. Thomas was nimble, catching each of Flint's passes with ease. He scored the second goal too, but Flint was the one to end the game. He barrelled between the boys, dribbling the cork, a familiar feral snarl on his lips, then shot it hard into the goal.
“All right, fair enough,” Silver heard the boys say. They shook hands with Thomas, who smiled kindly and suggested teaching them a move or two if they wanted. They'd never take him up on it, but it was exactly what Silver expected from him.
Flint, on the other hand, turned to Silver and Madi and sent a wild, victorious grin their way. It was all Silver could do not to moan aloud. He wondered how it was possible that the harbour could remain frozen, when he burned with such lust.
“It will soon be time to prepare lunch,” Madi told him, prodding his arm with a finger. “Tell them to hurry on home if you plan on doing… anything else.” With that she grinned wickedly and left Silver standing at the edge of the harbour, trembling with repressed lust.
There was no time for anything else, much to Silver's chagrin. He did manage to get Flint alone, clinging to his clothes and devouring his mouth in the little library on the ground floor of their inn. Flint had Silver pinned against the wall and his burning hands up Silver's shirt when luncheon guests piled in and Madi gave the door a thump to signal that they had to make themselves look decent.
Silver spent the rest of the day distracted. Some distractions were not new: the longing for Flint's mouth, and Thomas' hands, and Madi's skin, buzzed pleasantly through his body. He made himself be patient, as he always did, and smiled and let his charm steer conversations with complete strangers. Another distraction, new and strange, also filled his thoughts. The yearning for speed.
It had been long since Silver had lost his leg, and he'd learned to live with it. He no longer despised his body as he had when the injury had first occurred. He was strong, his shoulders and back broad, his arms powerful. He'd worked his good leg until it was strong enough for him to be able balance on it and even to hop around if need be. But the freedom and elation of running was a thing he could only dream of. Seeing Flint and Thomas whizz by on skates was a bittersweet reminder of this fact.
As the evening wound down to a lull and the staff started cleaning up plates and glasses, Flint strode up to Silver with a mysterious smile on his lips.
“We're going back out on the ice,” he told him. “And this time you and Madi are coming with us.”
A protest bubbled up in Silver's chest but died in his throat. There were dozens of reasons why Flint's idea was impossible, and yet Silver couldn't help but agree. The glint in Flint's eyes was too inviting not to follow.
The harbour was quiet. Stars glittered above them.A bright full moon sat in a clear sky, its pale light making the snow drifts glow. Flint reverently put down a chair at the edge of the ice and told Silver what it was for.
“This is the most insane idea you've had in a long time,” Silver said. And yet he hadn't rejected it outright.
“I'm having second thoughts,” Madi called out. She'd been fitted with skates and had just stepped out on the ice with Thomas. Her body was bent in a tense position, trembling with the effort of keeping her balance.
“Don't, my dear, you're doing very well.” Thomas crooned at her, taking both her hands in his and helping her find her balance.
Silver wasn't sure how long he stood there watching them, if it was minutes or an hour. Either Madi was a fast learner or Thomas a brilliant teacher – perhaps both. After quite a few awkward starts and stops and near-falls, Thomas had Madi moving on the ice. He swirled around her in what looked like a dance. Madi's soft laughter bounced off the ice back to Silver's ears; he broke into a misty-eyed grin.
Flint's hot fingers stroked the back of Silver's neck, and Silver looked up to find him also smiling fondly at Madi and Thomas. Then his eyes flicked down to Silver. “Your turn,” he said firmly.
“It's madness,” Silver protested with a chuckle.
“I've seen it done. I promise, I won't go too fast. You'll be safe.”
And when Flint promised him something, Silver tended to believe him, nowadays. With one last great sigh, Silver inched onto the ice and lowered himself onto the chair. He noticed Madi looking their way curiously, then Thomas twirled her around and she gave a little shriek.
“If I get injured,” Silver told Flint, “you and Thomas are to carry me around in a litter.”
Flint guffawed, holding the chair firmly so that it didn't skid while Silver settled on it. “All right.”
“I mean it. Without your shirts on.” Silver shifted to get his balance, gripping the seat of the chair hard.
“Really? In the heart of winter?” Flint slowly started pushing the chair forward, his skates scraping the ice. The chair glided in front of him smoothly on thoroughly waxed legs. Silver hooked his foot over the stretcher to keep it from dragging on the ice.
“Yes, covered in oil,” he mumbled, though he was losing track of the conversation. Butterflies were fluttering in his stomach in a mixture of excitement and anxiety. This could still go horribly wrong.
“Well, would you look at that!” Thomas called out, grinning broadly.
Madi was catching her breath, leaning against him for balance. Her face brightened into a dazzling grin when she saw how well Flint's idea was working. Silver couldn't help grinning back, even as Flint picked up speed.
They swept past Madi and Thomas, a chill wind blowing up Silver's hair. They were going faster and faster, skating as far as they could down the harbour. Silver couldn't wipe the grin off his face, even as he shivered with the thrill of danger. He could feel the heat coming off Flint's hands behind his back and couldn't help thinking that together, they'd always been more. They'd always been invincible.
That was when Flint stumbled. Silver felt the jolt, the accidental shove sending him hurtling towards one of the iced-in ships. His stomach felt as though it was dropping from the top of a cliff. He flung out his good leg and dragged it on the ice to slow himself down. Flint cursed behind him and snatched at the chair in a desperate attempt to bring it to a halt.
They bumped sideways into the heavy hull, making both wood and ice creak under the blow. The chair flew out from under Silver as his shoulder hit the hull, and he smacked down onto the ice. He tried to catch his breath, laying on his side and staring up at Flint. Flint had his back pressed to the hull and was gripping the empty chair in his hands, a horrified expression on his face.
Laughter bubbled up in Silver's belly. This was perhaps the most ridiculous thing they'd done since he'd suggested lowering the anchor to swing the Walrus about, and Flint had fucking listened to him.
Flint shook himself, dropped the chair, and moved to kneel beside Silver. “You all right?”
“Yeah,” Silver gasped between giggles. His shoulder ached a little where it had connected with the hull and then the ice, and his back was going to be sore for days. Somehow, at the moment, he didn't care.
“Hey! What're you doing to our ship?” someone shouted from the deck high above them. Silver saw faces peering at them.
“Boarding it so we can steal it away!” Flint barked back at them. There was an edge to his voice, a threat that reminded Silver of days long past.
The sailors on board guffawed, and Silver's laughter redoubled until he was wheezing for breath. Flint grinned at him, gently cupping his face in his hands. Silver's chuckles died down, hot tears spilling over his cheeks.
Thomas came skidding towards them. “Always getting into trouble, I see,” he said merrily.
“You know him,” Silver said, gesturing towards Flint, who slowly drew back and stood up. “Can't help himself.”
Madi arrived behind Thomas, slow and awkward without his help. “Everything all right?” she asked.
“I think so,” Silver said, wiping his eyes. He dug his fingertips into the great wooden hull and dragged himself up onto his knee.
“Well, aren't we lucky,” Thomas commented, and caught Madi's arm just in time to stop her from falling on her face.
“Mr Silver, if I may?” Flint said with an elegant flourish towards the chair, which he'd placed beside Silver.
Silver managed to climb back onto the chair again with Flint's help. “Next time I'll use my crutches so I can steer it better,” he told Flint.
“Next time?”
“Yes. And you can find a way to put skates on it, so it goes more smoothly.”
Flint chuckled delightedly and pushed Silver forward again, much slower than before.
Thomas and Madi followed, skating beside Silver at a leisurely pace. Silver looked up at Madi, who smiled down at him and reached for his hand. Silver grasped it, not caring quite as much about keeping his balance now. Their gloved fingers twined together. Thomas slipped behind Silver and Madi, and the chair moved forward a little faster. Silver glanced behind him to see that Thomas had wrapped an arm around Flint's waist and was pushing the chair with his free hand.
It must have been a strange sight, this creature with four heads and odd-numbered legs – some of them wooden – moving along the ice. Yet Silver didn't care how strange it looked to others. His belly glowed contentedly, his face burned from the cold air whipping his cheeks, and his heart still pounded from their adventure.
He could run again, after a fashion. Not away from anything, not by himself, but that didn't matter. The thrill of speed was within his reach. All he needed was a little help.