The Errant Prince (7 page)

Tamsen didn't reply to that, standing up instead. He took a step forward, stumbling in the direction of the kitchen. He nearly fell, and Myron jumped up, worried the effects of the falcine powder hadn't quite worn off, or that it was exacerbating the effects of the alcohol.

"I'm fine," Tamsen said, regaining his balance at the last. He attempted to swat Myron's outstretched hands away but missed by a fair few inches. He stared solemnly at Myron's hands, wrinkling his nose. "Mostly."

Myron laughed, glad he hadn't drunk enough to impair his own balance. He turned, smartly offering Tamsen his arm, recalling the etiquette lessons that had been drilled into him when he was younger. Strange, they'd never covered how to deal with a drunken prince. Tamsen cracked a smile, though, and took Myron's arm. He hesitated then, staring at the room in puzzlement.

"Where are we headed?" Myron prompted, though he was pretty sure Tamsen had forgotten what he'd planned to do.

"I don't recall," Tamsen said, his brow furrowing. He swayed, leaning further against Myron.

"How about bed?" Myron suggested.

"Bed, sure," Tamsen agreed. He turned toward his bed, apparently forgetting that Myron was in the way. Myron unhooked their arms, grabbing Tamsen to steady him when Tamsen tumbled into him. Tamsen grabbed the front of Myron's shirt. He stayed upright—barely—and ended up far closer than Myron had expected, a scant few inches between them.

"Hi," Tamsen said, a small smile quirking up the corners of his mouth. His cheeks were flushed again—still?

"Hi," Myron said, returning the smile easily.

He saw it coming from a mile away and despite knowing it was a bad idea, he let Tamsen close the space between them. He hadn't kissed anyone in so long, and Tamsen… Tamsen was getting to him more than Myron had realized. He wasn't anything like what Myron had expected.

Tamsen kissed him gently, sweetly, as though afraid Myron would shove him away or that he might miss. Myron hesitated—he wanted nothing more than to pull Tamsen close and kiss him more ardently—but his hesitation was enough for Tamsen to pull away, and Myron hadn't drunk enough to completely ignore the reality of the situation.

"Sorry," Tamsen said, attempting to disentangle himself from Myron. He didn't look at Myron, and it didn't take a genius to see that he was embarrassed.

"Don't be," Myron said, not letting Tamsen go despite his attempts to twist free.

Tamsen stopped and frowned at Myron. "What?"

Myron laughed, amused by how
annoyed
Tamsen sounded at that. "Don't be sorry you kissed me."

"Why not?" Tamsen demanded. "You ov-obviously didn't want me to."

Myron had to squash the urge to kiss the petulant look off of Tamsen's face. He was tempted, and Tamsen was willing… "I don't do casual, your highness. Tamsen."

"Ah," Tamsen said. He hesitated, looking away, and Myron braced himself for something stupid to come out of Tamsen's mouth. "It wouldn't have to be."

That, Myron hadn't expected, but he wasn't foolish enough to believe it was true. "You're a prince, Tamsen."

"Not for much longer," Tamsen argued, his voice getting louder. "I won't be marrying any Sumiran princess."

"And after you've sorted that all out, what will you do?" Myron asked gently.

"Come back here," Tamsen replied promptly. He paused, his face falling as he realized what that implied. "Right."

"Exactly." Myron smiled sadly. "It's a firm rule. Come on, let's get you to bed."

"How firm?" Tamsen asked, but he obediently went when Myron started to guide him toward his bed. "No, no, forget I asked that."

Myron considered it anyway; he'd instituted the 'no casual' rule after the third time he'd been approached for a novelty bedding. He didn't think Tamsen was after that—who would he brag to, for one, and he didn't seem the sort, for another.

"How about this, your highness—"

"Tamsen. You said it before, you can say it again," Tamsen said, sitting down heavily on the edge of his bed. He nearly toppled over, just barely staying upright.

"Tamsen," Myron repeated. "How about, once you get your title and arranged marriage business sorted out, you come find me." Myron leaned in, adding in a lower tone, "and I'll show you what practical uses I put construct magics to." Tamsen's eyes widened slightly, and Myron sealed the promise with a kiss.

Tamsen returned the kiss enthusiastically, tasting of whiskey. Myron dragged it out, debating again why he was resisting. Tamsen was so willing, so eager—and so drunk, Myron was reminded when Tamsen lost his balance and fell back to the bed.

Myron stifled a laugh, licking his lips. They still tasted of Tamsen, and he forced himself to step back, to not join Tamsen. He focused instead on getting Tamsen properly to bed, instead of all the thoughts of what he could do with Tamsen in said bed.

Tamsen protested a bit when Myron removed his boots and stuffed him under the covers. The protests faded quickly, however, and Tamsen was asleep before Myron was halfway across the cottage, his soft snores filling the room. Myron finished the whiskey in his cup, and then took a few minutes to tidy up their dishes before returning to his pallet in front of the fire. He settled into bed filled with a pleasant warmth that had little to do with the whiskey.

*~*~*

Myron woke first the next morning. He slipped outside, leaving Tamsen tangled in his blankets. He spent an hour doing practice drills, working up a sweat with his sword. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Tamsen watching at one point, but he'd disappeared by the end of the rotation.

When he was finished, he cleaned up by the well, dumping a bucket of water over his head to cool off, and then headed inside. Tamsen was seated at the table, looking like he could use another full night's sleep.

"Good morning, your highness," Myron greeted cheerfully. That earned him one of Tamsen's familiar scowls, and Myron would miss those.

"Am I mistaken, or did I actually manage to get you to use my name last night?" Tamsen asked, curling his hands around his cup of tea.

Myron laughed, sitting down and helping himself to the tea, pleased Tamsen had set out a second cup for him. "What else do you remember from last night, Tamsen?"

Predictably, Tamsen flushed. "Enough."

"Did you remember my offer?" Myron asked, mostly to see if he could get Tamsen's skin to turn a deeper red.

"I do," Tamsen said, scowling at him. "Are you taking it back?"

"No," Myron said. He shoved his damped hair from his forehead, giving Tamsen a slow smile. "Just making sure I don't have to repeat it."

Tamsen smiled a little, looking down at his cup of tea. He was quiet for a moment before saying, "I don't really have much for you to do today."

"I thought we were going into town?" Myron asked, confused. He'd been sure that was what Tamsen had said.

"
I'm
going. You're staying here," Tamsen said. He sighed, crushing the heel of his hand against his forehead. He spoke up, the words slightly muffled. "I don't want to explain your presence, honestly. There's going to be enough gossip about me leaving, but leaving with a member of the King's Guard?"

"Oh," Myron said. He hadn't thought of that, and Tamsen did intend to return, so he'd care what the villagers were saying about him.

It could also be a ruse, with Tamsen angling to get a head start on running off. Given Tamsen's behavior the previous night, however, Myron doubted that was the case. Tamsen seemed set on returning to Rishaw, even if he wasn't happy about it.

"Help yourself to anything in the pantry. You're also welcome to any of my books, though please don't cast anything inside the house," Tamsen said. He glanced at the bookcases on the other side of the room pensively. "I can recommend one or two books if you want something specific."

"I'm sure I can find something," Myron said, wondering why Tamsen seemed so nervous. "Can you pick up some travel supplies? I don't have much in the way of food left, and your pantry doesn't have much that will travel well."

"What? Oh, we won't be traveling." Tamsen sighed. "I'm sorry, I meant to tell you that. I'll shift us there."

"Really?" Myron asked, his eyebrows raising. Shifting was a difficult spell to master. To shift halfway across the country… Well, there was little chance any of the King's Guard would have caught Tamsen previously. Myron was lucky Tamsen hadn't wanted to leave his cottage.

"That can be one of your spells, if you want. I imagine it would be useful," Tamsen said. He drank the rest of his tea and stood.

"It would be," Myron agreed. He stood, too, planning to walk Tamsen to the door. "How long will you be?"

"A few hours. You can start worrying if I'm not back by mid-afternoon," Tamsen said, giving Myron a smile.

"So noted," Myron said, returning the smile. He wished he were going along, but to insist was definitely the wrong move. Tamsen fetched his hat and headed out, nodding to Myron as he left. Myron waved, watching until Tamsen was out of sight of the front window before returning to the table to eat his breakfast.

Myron spent half an hour poking around Tamsen's cottage. He tidied the dishes and checked out the books. Most of them were on magic, all topics that went far above his mediocre level of understanding. He gave up on the magic books, picking out a book of poetry instead. It turned out to be love poetry, and Myron mulled the idea of reciting love poems to Tamsen.

Perhaps one day. He didn't doubt that would fluster Tamsen well and thoroughly.

He started getting antsy as the afternoon progressed. Myron tucked the book back into its spot and wandered around the cottage again. He headed outside when the contents of the cottage didn't hold his attention and took to wandering the garden and meadows around the cottage. He was on his third circuit when he saw Tamsen approaching, his straw hat immediately marking him despite the distance.

Myron cut across the yard to meet him, returning Tamsen's wave. "How'd it go?"

"Fine," Tamsen said, shrugging as Myron fell into step beside him. "Waiting for me?"

"I got bored," Myron admitted, earning an eye roll. "Most of your magic books are too complicated for me."

"I could have picked some for you," Tamsen said, pausing on the path to stare at his cottage. Myron stopped alongside him, waiting for a cue. Tamsen sighed, rubbing his forehead, just below the brim of his hat. "Rafi will be here in the morning."

"Do you want me to hide in the woods when she arrives?" Myron asked, only half-joking.

"No, but it's probably better if we go today," Tamsen said, grimacing. "It's not like I'd sleep tonight, anyway."

Myron didn't disagree, falling into step beside Tamsen when he started for the back of the cottage again. He didn't pause when he entered the cottage, heading straight for his bed. Myron left him to it, moving to gather up the few belongings that had escaped his pack. He rolled his cloak, attaching it to the top. He contemplated changing, but he was as nicely dressed as he ever got while traveling, and he didn't exactly have anything nicer.

He did fish out the badge marking him as part of the King's Guard, fixing it to the front of his shirt. He rarely wore it while he traveled; people were far more willing to impart information when they thought him a simple traveler.

Turning toward Tamsen, Myron was unsurprised to find him changing clothing. Tamsen had an impression to make, after all, given he'd been away for seven years. Myron watched unashamedly as Tamsen shucked his shirt. He'd missed Tamsen changing pants, but he enjoyed every scrap of bare skin he got before Tamsen covered up with a crisp, white shirt.

The clothes weren't up to royal standards, but they were cleaner and nicer than the clothes Tamsen had worn around the cottage thus far. There were no patches or visible repairs, and they fit Tamsen well. Myron didn't pretend he hadn't been staring when Tamsen turned around, tugging a formal jacket into place. Myron grinned when Tamsen scowled half-heartedly at him.

"Let me shut things down in here, and then we'll go," Tamsen said, not acknowledging Myron's blatant staring.

Myron left him to it, picking up the blankets making up his pallet and putting them back with the other blankets on Tamsen's bed. When he turned around, he found Tamsen had banked the fire. As strange as the woodless fire had been, it was even stranger not seeing it burn. Tamsen was working on pulling down other spells around the cottage, spells that would break without his presence to feed them.

He paused, turning toward Myron. "Bring your things outside. I'll do the shift there so Rafi won't have to deal with cleaning up the inside of the cottage if I screw up."

"That's reassuring," Myron said, giving Tamsen a grin to take the sting out of the words.

Tamsen rolled his eyes, tugging his hair loose. He started rebraiding it, pulling down another spell from the rafters as he did so. Myron left him to it, grabbing his pack and sword and heading outside. He belted his sword into place and swung the pack over his shoulders.

He had mixed feelings about leaving. On the one hand, he was getting to see a shift spell and was avoiding a weeks-long trip to Rishaw, during which anything could happen. On the other hand, he was losing weeks of time he could spend alone with Tamsen. As if summoned by Myron's thoughts, Tamsen stepped out of the cottage. He pulled the door shut, forcing a smile as he walked over to where Myron stood.

"Ready?" Myron asked.

"As I'll ever be," Tamsen said. He offered Myron his arm, his smile softening into something more genuine. "Don't forget I still owe you two spells."

"Oh, I intend to cash those in," Myron said, threading his arm through Tamsen's. "Where are you shifting us to?"

"The palace. The fewer people I have to deal with, the better," Tamsen said, looking none too thrilled about having to deal with any people at all. "Don't let go of me until the spell ends completely, or you may lose something."

Myron didn't ask what that meant—his imagination and horror stories of shifting gone wrong filled that in for him. Tamsen's magic flared to life, bright and sharp as it swirled along Myron's skin. Tamsen tugged him closer, and Myron went, closing his eyes against the too-bright light that encompassed them. The ground slipped away beneath his feet, and Myron clung tighter to Tamsen's arm until it suddenly returned, firm and solid beneath him.