Guarded (12 page)

At very long last, the formalities were over. Servants hurried in to take away the tables, while a troupe of musicians filled one end of the room and began to tune their instruments. Queen Draga smiled at Berhanu. “I am afraid I must only watch. An old injury prevents me from participating. Please, will you choose your partner for the first dance?”

There were many handsome men and beautiful women in the room. Volos looked around, wondering which one Berhanu would pick. He was startled when he realized Berhanu stood directly in front of him, hand out. “Dance with me, Volos. I’ll let you lead.”

Volos felt his face grow red. “I don’t really know…”

“Then I’ll lead instead.” Berhanu grabbed his hand and dragged him to the center of the floor.

Members of the nobility no doubt spent many hours receiving dancing instruction. Volos had not. In fact, his only previous experiences consisted of drunken revels at firesides and in taverns, when the steps were more like rhythmic stumbles than anything else. But Berhanu grinned charmingly, wrapped an arm around Volos’s waist, and quietly gave him instructions as they moved.

Probably Volos was fooling himself, but he felt so wonderful in this embrace that he imagined he didn’t look too much an idiot.

“Very good,” Berhanu encouraged. “Think of it like fighting. You always know how to move your body so well when you fight. You’re naturally graceful, Volos. I don’t know how you manage it when you’re so big. Now, pretend we’re fighting… only slowly, and to a beat.”

Volos obeyed. And it turned out Berhanu was right— as long as Volos didn’t try to think too hard about what his body was doing, he managed to move with a modicum of grace.

“Wonderful!” said Berhanu. “You’re amazing.”

Volos smiled at him. “Some might say it’s the man who teaches an ox to dance who’s more amazing.”

“You’re no ox. You’re a dragon, right?”

Before Volos could think of an answer, the song ended. A tiny woman with blonde hair in a gravity-defying arrangement glided up to them. “May I have the next dance, Your Highness?” she asked.

Berhanu apparently didn’t need an interpreter for that. He nodded regally and took her hands.

As Volos attempted to make a dignified journey to an unobtrusive corner, his way was blocked by a man who was as tall as he was— maybe even a bit taller— but much more slender. He was in his mid-thirties and dashingly handsome, with a square jaw, sparkling green eyes, and sand-colored hair. He had a small crescent moon and stars tattooed near one eye. “Will you dance with me, sir?” he asked.

“I’ll probably step on your feet.”

“No, I was watching you with your prince. You were beautiful. Please?”

Volos couldn’t refuse without giving offense. He smiled wanly and nodded.

The music started up again, the man grasped Volos’s waist, and they began to move together. “My name is Klemen,” said the man. “Of course, I know your name already.”

“Shouldn’t I call you by a title instead?”

“Oh, I’d rather you wouldn’t. It always makes me think of my father when someone does that. It makes me feel old.” He had dimples when he smiled.

“Then Klemen it is.”

“Excellent! Have you visited Kozar before, Volos?”

Volos winced. “Um, during the war…”

“Oh. Of course. You hardly saw us at our best, then.” He frowned slightly. “I fought as well.”

“And it doesn’t bother you to dance with me?”

“It bothers me… but only in a delicious sort of way.” Klemen waggled his eyebrows to make his meaning clear.

Allowing himself a small smile, Volos said, “I see.”

“Oh, but you could see much more, my dear, if you wanted. Give me a bit of time and I can whisk you away. I know where there are quiet rooms.”

Once upon a time, Volos would have been both flattered and aroused. He would have eagerly joined Klemen in a deserted palace nook, and they would have fucked until neither of them could walk straight.

“Thank you,” said Volos. “But I can’t.”

“You don’t fancy men?”

“I do. But…” He didn’t know how to express this. Although he and Berhanu had been having a lot of sex, they weren’t truly lovers. Berhanu used him to work out his frustrations and anxieties and as a way of reclaiming his body after the mistreatment by the Juganin. Volos understood that. And he was happy to provide that service. He was. But by all the demons in the third hell, he was pretty sure he’d allowed himself to fall in love with the prince.

“I’m sorry,” said Volos. “But I can’t. I have… obligations.”

His gaze must have momentarily strayed to Berhanu, because Klemen nodded. “I see. He is more than your dance partner.”

“No. I mean… I’m his guard and… and…” Gods, what had happened to his tongue? “And I can’t,” he finished lamely.

“A pity. But you can dance with me at least, can’t you? Seeing as how your prince is otherwise engaged.”

“Of course. I’d like to.”

So they danced. Klemen was very good at it, and he was patient when Volos was clumsy. The song ended, Berhanu switched to an older man with a very straight posture, and Volos remained with Klemen. He remained for the next song as well, and then the next. Nobody else tried to cut in, so either Klemen was the only one interested in a Wedey guard or he was subtly motioning others away. Berhanu, on the other hand, had a different partner for every song. He must have danced with nearly everyone there except Klemen— and except Queen Draga, who watched from a padded chair near the musicians.

The musicians took two breaks, during which people pressed wineglasses into Volos’s hand. Then Klemen captured him again, and by the end of the evening, Volos was doing most of the leading, much to Klemen’s delight. They spoke of boots and weapons and terrible food— soldiers’ talk— and it didn’t matter that they’d fought for opposite sides. Klemen laughed easily, told jokes, shared little anecdotes about various places in Kozar. Volos felt comfortable in his presence.

But as the hour grew late, Volos glanced across the room and saw Berhanu dancing with a pretty young woman. Berhanu smiled at his partner, but Volos could see the strain and fatigue in his face. The prince was moving a bit too slowly for the beat, his footsteps slightly unsteady.

“I’m sorry,” Volos said, pulling away from Klemen. “I have to go.”

“You won’t reconsider my offer? I’ve had such a good time with you tonight.”

“I have too. But I can’t.”

Klemen bent in a courtly bow. “Then thank you for a lovely evening. I hope you return to Kozar soon, Volos. For pleasure instead of business. And when you do, please come stay with me at my villa.”

“Thank you.” Impulsively, Volos gave him a quick hug. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

Instead of going to Berhanu, Volos hurried across the room to where the queen sat, chatting with an older man and sipping from a goblet. Volos dropped to his knee before her.

“Oh, you need not be so formal with me,” said the queen, waving her hand. “Are you enjoying the evening?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you. But… I beg your pardon, but Prince Berhanu has been through… quite a lot lately. I think he needs to rest.” Not wanting anyone else to understand, he spoke in Wedey.

She looked over at Berhanu. He still danced, but he was staring at Volos and Queen Draga, his eyes narrowed.

“You are right, of course,” said the queen. “Please forgive me for failing to notice.” She stood and made a motion with her hands, and the musicians stopped at once. She spoke loudly in Kozari. “I am afraid the hour is quite late and I must retire. Thank you all for your attendance.”

It must be nice to be queen
, Volos thought, as the guests immediately filed toward her to pay their respects. Berhanu limped over and stood near her, nodding slightly at everyone, while Volos took a position directly behind his prince. He wished he could have offered Berhanu his body to lean against.

It took forever for the guests to disperse, and then Berhanu spent a few minutes chatting with the queen about the following morning’s arrangements. But Berhanu said nothing at all to Volos as a servant led them back to their quarters.

Even when they were alone again, Berhanu began to undress in silence. His expression was stony.

“Do you need anything?” asked Volos. “I can ask a servant for some food. Or maybe you’d like a bath or—”

“I don’t need anything.”

“All right.” Volos sat on the edge of the bed to take off his boots. His feet were a little sore.

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself,” Berhanu said quietly.

Volos smiled at him. “I learned to dance.”

“That duke or whatever he was seemed appreciative.”

“I suppose so. Is there something wrong with that?”

Berhanu had been in the middle of untying his belt, but he stopped and lifted his chin. “He wanted to fuck you.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure he wanted me to fuck
him
. But I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Kozari custom frowns on sex in the middle of the dance floor.”

Berhanu stomped over, barefooted, and pointed his finger in Volos’s face. “But you wanted to!”

“No. I didn’t,” Volos replied honestly. He didn’t understand why Berhanu was so upset, but then there were many things about the prince he failed to understand.

After making a rude sort of noise, Berhanu whirled around and stalked to the washroom. He spent a long time in there, doing gods knew what. Meanwhile, Volos stripped off his fancy attire and put on plainer clothes. He stood staring at the small mountain of clothing and other things he and Berhanu had recently acquired. Were they supposed to leave the things here, or were they expected to take them back to Wedeyta? If the latter, how in the third hell were they supposed to get them there? Would someone at the palace be giving them luggage?

Volos was still puzzling over these matters when Berhanu emerged from the washroom. He was completely naked and he’d combed his wet hair back from his face. He’d gained back a little weight already, thanks to the palace’s variety of good foods, but he was still far too thin. The scars were evident on his pale skin, and the marks and scabs where his left nipple had been were especially nasty-looking. “I’m going to bed. If you want to go off in search of your duke, you can. I doubt anyone here will murder me in my sleep.”

“He’s not my duke. And I’ll stay here.”

“Of course. You wouldn’t dare abandon your duty.”

Volos wanted to strangle him. “It has nothing to do with my sense of duty.”

“Right.” Berhanu sat heavily on the bed but didn’t cover himself. “Did you know you never call me by name? You say ‘Your Highness’ when you’re being sarcastic, but that’s it. Even when we’re fucking you don’t use my name.”

“I’m sorry. Berhanu.”

The prince shook his head irritably. “Is it out of excessive politeness? Because I’d think we’d be past that by now. Or is it out of disgust?”

“Disgust? Why would I be disgusted?”

“You saw them. The Juganin. You saw me tied up and begging, and you saw them rape me.”

Gods. “And I told you already. I’ve seen them do it to others. They did it to me, again and again.”

“Right. But you didn’t need someone to come running to your rescue, did you? No, you’re a hero. Volos the Dragon, who breaks free of the prison. Who kills eight enemies single-handed.”

“I’m just a man,” Volos said thickly. Before he could add anything he’d regret, he went into the washroom. He took as long as he reasonably could in there, hoping that Berhanu would be asleep when he came back out.

But he wasn’t so lucky. Berhanu sprawled naked atop the bedcovers, looking disturbingly like a sacrifice. His face was turned toward the washroom and he tracked Volos with his gaze. Volos stopped in his tracks, unwilling to get closer to the bed and hesitant to remove his trousers.

“Do you want to fuck
me
?” asked Berhanu. And before Volos could answer, he flipped over, raised himself on all fours, and waggled his ass slightly. “Is this what you’ve been wanting?”

Volos’s mouth was desert dry. He
did
want that, but he wouldn’t have it. Berhanu was too damaged right now— psychologically, if not physically.

Angered at Volos’s silence, Berhanu got off the bed. He stalked closer. “What’s wrong, Volos? A poncy Kozari duke is good enough for you but I’m not?”

“Are you
jealous
of him?” Volos asked, slightly incredulous.

“You danced with him. All fucking night.”

“But you were busy. And I never thought…”

“What?”

“I never thought it would matter to you.”

“Matter? We’ve been sleeping with each other every fucking night. We’ve been… I know every inch of your body, inside and out. I know every one of your scars. I know the way your face goes all soft for a moment and you make a surprised little gasp when you climax. I know the taste of you. How could it not matter?”

Volos felt exactly like he’d been whacked in the face by a wooden sword. He blinked quickly and tried to make sense of his thoughts. “I didn’t realize…”

Berhanu’s face hardened. “You thought I was just using you. And you allowed it because it was your damned
duty
.”

“I told you! This has nothing to do with my fucking duty! It never has.”

“I hurt you. I bent you over and I fucked you raw. I marked you. And you liked it, didn’t you? The Juganin twisted and warped you and now you get off on being used.”

Volos’s roar was equal parts anger and frustration. He surged forward like a wave, driving Berhanu backward with the force of his body until Berhanu’s legs hit the mattress and he fell back. Volos landed on top of him and pinned his wrists to the bed. He could kill this man so easily. He could snap his neck, bash his face to bloody pulp, pummel his chest until his ribs were nothing but splintered bone.

Volos kissed him on the forehead instead.

“I let you fuck me like that because it was all I thought I could have from you,” he said, his voice as raw as his nerves. “And I
did
get off on it because it was you, and so it was
good
. It’s the most I’ve ever had, Berhanu.”

He was far too close to crying. He released Berhanu’s wrists and lifted himself off the limp body. And because he was still caged in their quarters, he walked into the washroom. He didn’t light a lantern. Moonlight shone softly through the window, making the porcelain and marble glow. He sat on the edge of the tub with his face in his hands.