Bee Among the Clover (125 page)

Aron tugged the tunic on over his head, his expression thoughtful. “Does this mean that you won’t train me anymore?”
Roman hesitated and then shook his head. “I gave you my word.” He knew how much it meant to Aron to have a goal to work toward, to have meaning to his existence beyond merely serving in Wulfgar’s bed. He supposed it was the same with him. When he was teaching, he was somehow more than the boundaries assigned to him.
That answer didn’t appear to make Aron feel better. Roman knew it was going to be difficult for Aron; he did not seem to be solitary by nature, and there really was no one else in Wulfgar’s hall he could commiserate with. Maybe he’d find somebody among the visitors to the king’s hall. At least while they were here. Roman tried not to let how much the idea of Aron turning to another bothered him show.
Roman picked up the new collars, which were made of gold-chased silver links instead of the leather and steel that they normally wore. He wasn’t sure if Wulfgar had wanted to put them on himself or not. Nor was he sure if they should take out their leashes. They hadn’t used them so much in the mead hall because Aron chafed at the idea and they really weren’t necessary, but this was a special occasion, and the thane seemed eager to show them off.
Trying to put the breach between them out of his mind, Aron finished dressing. He might not like what he was, but he wasn’t going to embarrass Wulfgar by being petulant in front of the king and the rest of the thanes. He had too much pride for that, however much he felt like curling up and forgetting the whole of the world existed right then.
Thankfully, and Aron never would have thought he’d say that about Wulfgar, the thane returned then, flinging open the flap of the tent and striding in, a wide grin on his face, quite apparently having been in his cups at the feast, though he didn’t seem drunk, just boisterous and in fine spirits.
The sight of the two of them awaiting him, clean and dressed in their new finery, made the grin on Wulfgar’s face grow. “My treasures. You look perfect.” The thane then cocked his head and shook it with a chuckle. “Almost perfect, it seems. Come here, Roman, and bring those collars.”
Roman smiled at the thane, moving over to him and handing him the collars that Wulfgar had commissioned for them. Aron bit the inside of his lip, hating the jealousy that reared up. He wished Roman would smile at him in that manner. Wulfgar motioned Aron over as well, and he obeyed, standing still as the thane removed their old collars and tossed them down on top of the furs. Aron didn’t watch as the thane clasped the first one around Roman’s throat and took a kiss from the slave’s lips.
Wulfgar turned to Aron then, putting the new collar on Aron and kissing him as well before stepping back and admiring them. He must have been pleased with what he saw, because he nodded and gestured to the bed.
“Get your cloaks,” Wulfgar said, and as they moved to do so, Aron saw him go over to his saddlebags and pull out two new leashes, tooled with an intricate design.
Aron’s pride bristled at the sight of them. His jaw tightened, and he looked away as he swung his cloak over his shoulders while Roman did the same. This was not how he wanted his first foray into the king’s hall to take place, at the end of a leash like a prize hound.
Still, he lifted his chin when Wulfgar approached and let him clip the leash to the new collar, which felt strange around his neck. He was used to the heavier, stiffer leather and steel collar; this one was more delicate, lighter, and it was taking time to get used to.
Wulfgar ran a finger across their cheeks in turn, giving a smile and a nod before stepping back and proclaiming them both “
absolutely
perfect.” “Come then, there’s much entertainment to be had.”
The air outside was crisp and carried the smell of more snow to come. The thane led them through the camp, pausing to wave or speak with the occasional passerby, though it seemed to Aron that most of the thanes were still at the king’s hall. Once they reached the keep, Wulfgar paused just inside the entrance. Aron didn’t know why he was waiting until he risked a glance up through his lashes and saw the attention they had garnered. Realization set in: Wulfgar was letting everyone take a good look at his “treasures” before leading them over to the bench that had been assigned to him. Aron squirmed inwardly at the assessing gazes, but after the humiliation of his first foray into Wulfgar’s hall, this was nothing.
Because he was a cousin to the king, Wulfgar’s bench sat just off the dais. The thane nodded to King Eadric before resuming his seat, Roman on one side and Aron on the other.
Roman kept his eyes on the floor, but Aron couldn’t resist the urge to take it all in. After all, when might he ever have the chance to dine in a king’s hall again? It was as grand as he could have imagined; everything seemed to glitter and glow, and he was actually relieved to see that Wulfgar was not the only one who was prone to showing off his slaves, as several of the other thanes had companions dressed in equal finery at their sides. Some were women, some young men, but all were clearly slaves or thralls as well. Aron made sure to keep his expression respectful; the last thing he wanted tonight was a punishment. He was determined to enjoy this treat, because he was sure the thane had intended it as such.
His good intentions were tested sorely when Osric leaned over with a leer, ale foam on his beard. “So what manner of entertainment are your pets going to provide us with tonight?”
Before Aron had a chance to even turn and glare at the battle-lord, however, Wulfgar handled it for him. The thane smirked at Osric, shaking his head and setting one hand on Aron’s thigh, the other toying with Roman’s hair. “The king has provided the entertainment for the evening, Osric. Any entertainment these two provide will be for me and me alone.” Aron grinned, for once not minding the casual remark about his duties to Wulfgar. In fact, he was of half a mind to kiss the thane.
Ignoring the muttering Osric made, Wulfgar reached for a cup of ale, pressing it into Aron’s hands. Aron thanked him genuinely, seeing the flash of pleased surprise before the thane turned to Roman, drawing him closer and reaching for a piece of sugared fruit. Aron’s mouth went dry at the expression of pleasure on Roman’s face when he opened his mouth and took the treat, and he was grateful all over again for the mug of ale, swallowing down half of it in one gulp.
The air in the hall was boisterous and celebratory, loud and bawdy jokes tossed about, raucous laughter ringing off the cavernous walls. The thane drew Roman’s much smaller, slimmer form into his lap, offering another piece of the fruit and then leaning down, tongue flicking out to lick off the bits of crystallized sugar that clung to his pouty lips. Aron stared down into his empty mug when the slave made a quiet sound of pleasure, wishing he did not have such reactions to Roman.
Wulfgar noticed Aron’s sudden quiet, and Aron was startled when the thane drew him firm against his side and dropped a kiss to his lips. “Don’t pout, boy, however delectable you look when you do.”
Aron met Roman’s gaze for a brief instant before looking up at Wulfgar and nodding, a small smile curving his lips. He was determined to enjoy this evening and forget about Roman. He flashed Wulfgar a grin as he poured him some more of the ale and focused his attention on the jugglers instead of Roman perched so comfortably on the thane’s lap.