Guarded (11 page)

Before Volos could quite melt with pleasure, Berhanu dumped more water over his head to rinse away the shampoo. Then he patted Volos’s back. “My turn!”

More water sloshed out as they both turned around.

As much as Volos had enjoyed being bathed, he enjoyed bathing Berhanu even more. It was a wonderful excuse to touch him, to examine him not as a combatant or a patient but as a man. He had wide shoulders dotted with a few freckles, which Volos would have liked to lick. The knobs of his spine were still too prominent, but his skin was soft, and the nape of his neck looked so tender and vulnerable that Volos nearly bit through his own lip.

Volos spent a very long time cleaning Berhanu’s hair, gently working out the tangles with his fingers. Not that Berhanu minded— the sounds he made were positively obscene.

About the same time that the water cooled, Volos’s empty belly growled, making Berhanu laugh again. “I guess your stomach cares little about your outsides being clean.”

With a slight tangle of limbs and considerable splashing, they climbed out of the tub. Volos gasped when he saw that Berhanu’s cock was as erect as his own. Berhanu licked his lips and gave Volos one of his long, unreadable stares before shaking his head and grabbing a towel. “We’d better eat before the queen sends for me.”

There was enough food to feed a small army, and even though most of it had cooled to room temperature, it was delicious. Berhanu ate slowly, no doubt mindful of his still-recovering digestive system, but in the end he managed to down quite a lot. Volos ate like a starving wolf— albeit one with relatively good manners.

They had just finished their meal when a knock sounded at the door. Volos answered it, not especially surprised to discover the thin-faced duo from earlier in the day. “Her Majesty requests the presence of her guest,” said the bearded one.

Unlike Volos, Berhanu wouldn’t have noticed the singular
guest
, but he put up his hand when Volos tried to leave with him. “This is bound to be long and tedious, Volos, and I don’t need you to translate. Stay here.”

Volos set his jaw. “I’m your guard.”

“I know. But if she decides to do away with me, even you can’t stand up to a palace full of soldiers. I’ll be fine.” He gave Volos a stern look. “Stand down.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Volos replied, feeling like a sullen child. But then he hastily added, “Wait!” and trotted to the washroom. He returned a few seconds later with his scabbarded sword, which he held out to Berhanu.

“That’s generous of you. But I can hardly lift it in my current state.”

“You’re a warrior. You ought to look like one.”

Berhanu gave him a strange smile as he took the blade.

****

Volos had experienced far too much idleness lately. He wasn’t used to it and didn’t like it. There was little in the bedchamber to keep him busy, and he had the feeling he wouldn’t be very welcome were he to prowl the palace halls. He paced instead, staring out the windows where darkness hid the gardens, and examining the details of the tapestries on the walls. On close inspection, one of them turned out to depict couples— and threesomes and foursomes— in a bewildering variety of sexual positions. Volos looked at that one for a long time, which was probably a mistake. Two well-built men in the lower right-hand corner were happily sucking each other’s cocks. One of them had long dark hair.

Even though the bath was long over, Volos’s dick had never quite softened all the way. Now it perked back up, and a pleasant little twinge in his ass reminded him of the previous night. Gods. With a sigh of resignation, Volos closed himself in the washroom and dropped his trousers. He sat on the edge of the tub while he stroked himself, and when he thought of Berhanu marking his shoulder with his teeth, Volos came.

****

Berhanu returned very late. He weaved slightly as he walked, perhaps from the exhaustion that was plain on his face. Perhaps from the wine that scented his breath. He slammed the chamber door behind him and staggered to the room with the table, where he found some leftover ale. He swallowed it in one long draught.

Volos hovered.

Then Berhanu slammed the empty tankard onto the table, snarled, and swept the tankard aside. It clattered loudly against the floor. “Fucking royalty!”

“Is she not—”

“Oh, she’ll come around. But not until after I spend days talking myself in circles and making all sorts of promises. It’s a power thing. Prove you have the upper hand by stringing the other party along until he wants to strangle you.” He unbuckled the sword and hung it over a chair back. “Not that I’d be able. I couldn’t strangle a newborn kitten right now.”

Volos made a face, and Berhanu grimaced. “I don’t strangle kittens, Volos. It’s a
saying
. Gods, I hadn’t realized you were the savior of animals too. Is that what I am to you? A fluffy little puppy, maybe? A baby bunny?”

“No. You’re a prince.”

This time, Berhanu shoved a plate to the floor. It shattered. Then he stomped over to Volos and stood so close that they almost touched. “A
prince
? A precious little bundle of blue-blooded titles. The living embodiment of your patriotic fucking duty.”

Fuck. “A man!” Volos yelled at him. “That’s what you are to me.” The living embodiment of his deepest desire.

And of course Berhanu kissed him. There was no tenderness to it, just a bruising invasion that tasted of wine and ale. Volos’s scalp hurt where Berhanu gripped his hair. But then Berhanu grabbed one of Volos’s hands and pushed it to Berhanu’s groin, where the hardness of his cock was very evident. “A man like this?” His voice was deep and raspy. “You want a man like this?”

“Yes. Please, yes.”

This time, some of their fine borrowed clothing might have been torn— Volos wasn’t sure. What he did know was that very soon he was naked and bending over the thick mattress with Berhanu pounding into him with all the ferocity of a winter storm. Volos was thankful for the friction of the smooth bedcovers against his cock, but even more thankful for the heat that filled him. The massive bed squeaked as they shook it; their skin slapped together and their lungs labored. When Berhanu angled himself just right, setting off colored lights behind Volos’s closed eyelids, Volos swore in Wedey, Kozari, and a smattering of other tongues as well.

He moaned when Berhanu pulled out of him.

This time at least Berhanu met his gaze. “I’ll go wash up,” said Berhanu. “And then I’ll go to sleep. I have hours of talking to look forward to tomorrow.”

“All right.”

Volos wasn’t really tired. But he went to bed when Berhanu did and lay beside him in the huge bed, listening to him whimper slightly in his sleep.

****

Chapter Eleven

The next several days dragged by. Berhanu spent long periods of time in conversation with Queen Draga, returning to his room for meals and brief rests. He didn’t tell Volos much about what went on in those meetings, although he did say he was optimistic about a positive outcome in the end. But in the meantime he alternated between foul moods and despondent ones, and Volos got only brief glimpses of his spirit and humor. While Berhanu’s physical state gradually improved, Volos imagined that underneath the healing skin was a thick layer of jagged glass grating painfully over heart and nerves.

Volos spent most of his time caged in their chambers, although one afternoon a smiling guard took him for a long tour of the palace. She showed him the grand public spaces such as the throne room and ballroom, and she even allowed him to see the more pedestrian areas where the guards trained.

“How does it compare to your home?” she asked.

He’d never really thought of the castle as home— it was just the place where he lived. “The training space isn’t much different.”

“I suppose we all need the same things, more or less.” She cocked her head slightly. “You sound like a Kozari but you’re from Wedeyta.”

“Some of my family was from here.”

“Ah. Well, you should consider this your home too, then. You’d be welcome here.”

“Thank you.”

She found cloaks for them both and took him on a tour of the gardens.

When Volos and Berhanu were in their room together, they fucked. Three, sometimes four times a day. Each time, Berhanu took him brutally, so they were both raw when they finished. He saved his gentle touches for the bath and for just before they fell asleep. Volos took whatever Berhanu gave him and was thankful for it, but he gradually realized that it wasn’t enough. Which was stupid. Less than a month ago he would have been thrilled for any crumbs of Berhanu’s affection. But now he’d become a glutton, always hungry for more than he received.

They had been at the palace for a week— and Volos was beginning to go slightly mad from confinement— when Berhanu returned to their chambers looking more relaxed than usual. “She’s finally agreed,” he said as he unbuckled Volos’s sword from his hips. “She’s going to tell Mudedye that unless they cease their hostilities with us, she’ll cut off trade with them. And they can’t afford that because they’re landlocked.”

“So it’s the outcome you hoped for?”

“Yes. Mostly. I had to agree to a few concessions. She wants better prices on some of the goods we send them, and she wants a monopoly as our only supplier of linen and pearls. It’ll drive up the costs on our end and people will grumble, but the people who buy those goods can afford to pay more for them. We’ve made some mutual compacts of defense support, which I think will please my father as much as the queen. And she’s going to come visit us in the spring. It’ll be the first official delegation from Kozar since the war. The entire Wedey nobility are going to be thrilled about that.” He gave a wry smile. “Queen Draga has some marriageable nieces and nephews, and she’s not averse to creating some Wedey family ties.”

“That’s wonderful! You’ve saved… gods, you’ve probably saved thousands of lives.”

Berhanu shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t feel very heroic. Although anyone who can survive three days of Kozari equinox ceremonies probably deserves a fucking medal.”

“You’ll have to make sure the king has one struck for you.”

“Yeah,” said Berhanu with a sigh. “Look. She’s going to do some goodbye thing in the morning. She wants you there. And then she’ll be giving us a private carriage and escort all the way to the border. She’s promised me there will be no more problems from the Juganin.”

“Do you believe her?”

“Yes.” He sat on a chair to take off his boots, then wiggled his toes as if they were cramped. “Now that my presence here is more official, she’s arranged a reception tonight. There will be a lot of Kozari there in their very best clothes, and tons of food.” He glanced at Volos, then away. “And dancing.”

“Oh.” Volos had attended similar events at the Wedey castle, but as security rather than a celebrant. Everyone always seemed to drink and gossip too much, but they seemed to enjoy themselves.

“Will you come with me tonight, Volos? Please?”

“Of course. It’ll be my privilege to guard you.”

Berhanu made a sour face. “Not to guard me. Come as a guest. Have some fun. Get a chance to chat with more of your— with more Kozari before we leave.”

“I don’t think someone like me is meant—”

“Oh, fuck that! You’re a hero how many times over? You’re a better man than all the Kozari and Wedey nobility put together. They should be thrilled to have someone of your quality attend.”

Volos’s chest warmed with the unexpected praise, and he had to look down at the floor. “I’ll come,” he said.

“Good. Because I’ve already asked them to bring you something to wear.”

****

If left to his own devices, Volos would have stayed close to the walls of the huge room. Instead, Berhanu had dragged him right into the center and everyone was staring openly at him. He wished he were smaller. He wished the clothing he’d been given weren’t quite so gaudy. He wished he were back in Wedeyta, sweaty and bare-chested, crashing a wooden sword onto someone’s head.

Berhanu presented him formally to Queen Draga. Volos attempted to fall to his knee, but Berhanu wouldn’t let him. So Volos made an awkward bow instead, which the queen gracefully accepted.

Then they got to sit at a long table with an elaborately inlaid top. Berhanu was seated right next to the queen, and Volos beside him. Although the seating order might or might not have been according to Kozari rules of etiquette, it served the handy function of sandwiching Berhanu between the only two people in the room with whom he shared a language. And it made Volos feel more comfortable, although that had probably not been the intent.

Dozens of people lined their table and several others. Everyone was so brightly dressed and chattering so loudly that they reminded Volos of a flock of parrots. But they were well-fed parrots, with servants bringing them plate after plate of delicacies. Queen Draga must have spoken to someone about Berhanu’s somewhat delicate constitution, because his portions were very small. Volos, on the other hand, was given enough to feed a dragon.

During the meal, the queen engaged Berhanu in small talk about things like roads and crops, and although Volos suspected the prince had little interest in these topics, Berhanu managed to be witty and engaging. Volos said very little, although he appreciated Berhanu’s occasional attempts to include him in the conversation.

When the mountains of food were gone, Queen Draga stood. The room went instantly silent. “My dear guests, thank you for joining me tonight. I am delighted to present to you His Highness, Prince Berhanu of Wedeyta. He is accompanied by Volos Perun, a man whose heroic feats honor his Wedey and Kozari forebears.” She spoke in Kozari, of course, which meant Volos leaned close to Berhanu’s ear to translate. The nearness of the prince’s face was terribly distracting— Volos wanted to kiss those cheekbones and smooth his thumb along the dark brows.

Everyone clapped politely after the queen’s introduction, then listened with various degrees of interest as she gave a longish speech about the importance of setting aside past differences and growing peace between the neighboring countries. She said that, together, Wedeyta and Kozar would prove a force too powerful for any other nations to challenge. And so forth. Volos whispered his translation into Berhanu’s ear, and Berhanu sipped slowly at some very fine wine.