by James Erich
“You won’t be alone. Seffni had a fine militia, with well-trained, experienced men under his command. His generals will advise you.”
“If they know what they’re doing,” Sael said, “why not put them in charge?”
“General Meik will work as your top advisor,” Worlen snapped, beginning to lose his patience. “But you are the dekan. You will make the decisions.”
Chapter 20
KOREH was annoyed at being dismissed like a servant after risking his life—how many times?—to assure Sael’s and Geilin’s safety. And he was particularly annoyed at being separated from Sael after he’d given Koreh a look that clearly said, “Help me!”
But the food he was served in the kitchen was the best he’d ever tasted. Pheasant glazed with oranges and spices, then roasted, amazingly tender and sweet; strips of venison spiced with cinnamon and ginger and doused with a rich gravy; white bread with quince marmalade; all accompanied by a sweet white wine.
He could get used to this.
For a brief time he allowed himself to fantasize about living here, not as a peasant working in the stables, but as Sael’s nimen, eating like this every day, spending his nights in a soft down-stuffed bed, Sael wrapped in his arms.
But this was a fantasy—nothing more. The vek had made it clear Koreh was nothing more than a servant in his estimation, and even if Sael did have feelings for him, dekan did not marry servants.
When Koreh finished eating, Diven escorted him to the servant’s wing of the palace, where a bedroom had been made up for Koreh.
The room wasn’t much bigger than the room Koreh had shared with Sael and Geilin at the Burning Ghusat, but it was far cleaner. The bed looked comfortable, with the coverlet folded back to reveal the whitest linen sheets Koreh had ever seen, and a brass tub in the corner held steaming-hot water. When Diven saw Koreh eyeing it quizzically, he said, “We thought… sir… might enjoy a bath, after his long journey.”
Koreh found the uncertainty about how he should be addressed amusing. Diven’s servile manner seemed to be strained by the fact that he wasn’t used to treating commoners as guests. Koreh had heard it was very difficult to obtain even a position as a stable boy in a noble household. No doubt the staff here would normally consider someone like Koreh beneath their notice.
But after the wearying morning he’d had—even with Sael doing most of the work—Koreh felt he could use a bath. “All right,” he said. “Why not?”
He was a little concerned that Diven would stay and watch. Not that Koreh was at all shy, but what if the servant offered to wash him? Koreh had heard the servants bathed and dressed people in noble households. He wouldn’t know if that was simply the way things worked around here, or if the old man was just being perverse. Fortunately it didn’t happen. Diven merely pointed out the towel hanging on a brass stand near the tub and then excused himself.
“If sir would like his clothes laundered,” the man said on his way out, “sir may place them outside the door.”
Since his tunic and breeches were filthy, after rolling in the dirt and hay… and the gods knew what else… in the stable, Koreh took the advice and left his clothing outside the door before climbing into the tub. He hadn’t realized how tired and sore his muscles were until he sank down into the hot water. A groan of pleasure escaped his lips and he settled back, eyes closed. At the moment, it felt like the most wonderful thing he’d ever experienced in his life.
Apparently he fell asleep, because he suddenly became aware the water had grown tepid and there was somebody knocking on the door.
“What is it?”
Diven entered. If he found anything unusual about Koreh still being in the tub, he didn’t show it. He merely bowed slightly before closing the door behind him. “The dekan has requested that you be brought to him.”
Koreh’s first thought was that Worlen wanted to see him, perhaps to send him away. But then he realized that Diven had said “the dekan,” not “the vek.” Did he mean Sael?
He stood and reached for the towel, not particularly caring about being naked in front of the old man. Again, Diven showed no reaction at all. Was it was normal for people around here to bathe in front of the servants? Or was Koreh being crass and ill-mannered, and Diven was merely too polite to say anything?
“I’m afraid sir’s clothes are not back from the laundry yet,” Diven said, “but I believe this should fit sir comfortably.”
The servant held out a linen dressing gown dyed a deep shade of blue.
Koreh stepped out of the tub and finished drying himself. Then he allowed Diven to slip the long robe around his body and fasten it at the waist. The servant had also brought a pair of slippers.
Koreh received several curious stares as Diven led him through the servant’s wing and up a flight of stairs. They then traversed several long hallways and more flights of stairs until they entered the family wing of the castle, on one of the upper floors. They stopped at a doorway guarded by two sentries.
“His lordship requested the presence of his guest,” Diven told the guards. His tone was haughty, and Koreh wondered exactly where Diven stood in the household pecking order.
Apparently it was fairly high. The two sentries bowed and stepped aside, permitting Diven to knock on the door.
“Enter.”
Diven opened the door and preceded Koreh inside, announcing, “Your visitor, Your Lordship.”
Sael had taken the time to bathe as well. He stood on his balcony wearing a red-and-gold dressing gown, much finer than the one Koreh had on. He barely acknowledged Koreh and Diven when they entered, his attention on the city below him.
“Your Lordship!” Diven gasped.
Sael turned, raising his eyebrow at him. In that one gesture, Koreh noted, Sael’s relation to the vek became visible. But Koreh doubted that the vek had ever looked so breathtakingly beautiful.
Sael sighed. “Oh, all right, Diven.”
He stepped back into the room, and Diven immediately rushed over to close the glass-paned double doors that led out to the balcony. After securing them with deadbolts at the top and bottom, the servant drew heavy blue curtains across them.
The room was suddenly very dark. Koreh could see quite clearly with the enhanced vision he now possessed, but he wondered why Diven thought this was acceptable for Sael.
Sael moved to the bedside table, using a flint and tinder to light the beeswax candle there. “You may leave us, Diven.”
Diven bowed, looking somewhat put out. “Yes, Your Lordship.”
Then he left.
IN THE soft candlelight, Koreh’s pale skin and crystalline blue eyes seemed to shimmer with an unearthly beauty. Sael longed to touch him, to hold him. But he was afraid anything he might do would turn that biting wit on him again, and he didn’t think he could handle that right now.
Koreh was the first one to speak. “Why are you hiding in the dark?”
“I’m not,” Sael said, smiling faintly. “Well, I don’t want to. But Seffni was killed by an assassin climbing in through the balcony. My father has given strict orders that I’m to stay away from windows, to avoid both assassins and the emperor’s ömem whenever possible. And I must always have a guard nearby. At least until we go into battle. After that, nothing can really protect me.”
Koreh looked at the heavy curtains in front of the window, frowning. “I can look after you.”
“You’ve already proven that,” Sael said, laughing. “I feel safer with you than with the guards.”
“Do you?”
Sael walked across the room to light another candle. “Yes.”
“I would guard you with my life.”
Sael turned to see Koreh regarding him with a look that was unmistakable. Oh gods, he does want me.
Growing up in the royal court, Sael was used to people hiding their true feelings under a mask of cordiality. But though Koreh was volatile, he wasn’t deceitful.
The thought that Koreh might feel the same way he did filled Sael with a
strong desire to fold himself into Koreh’s arms. But he didn’t yet know how to get from here to there. He’d never done anything like this before.
While he stood there, feeling like a fool, there was a knock on the door.
Thank the gods.
“Enter!”
An attractive young servant girl entered the room carrying a large serving tray covered with a green cloth. The aroma of savory pork pies and fresh-baked bread filled the room. “Your dinner, Your Lordship.”
Sael welcomed the distraction, at least for a few moments. “Thank you, Kem. Would you put it on the table, please?”
While the girl placed the tray on the ornate wooden table at one end of the room, opposite the four-poster bed, and laid out two plates, Sael took Koreh by the hand to lead him over to the table.
“I managed to convince Father to let me eat in my room,” he said. “I didn’t think I could stand a formal dinner with him and Tanum. Not tonight.”
Koreh glanced at their joined hands as if pondering the significance of the gesture. “Who is Tanum?”
Of course, he wouldn’t know. “I’m sorry. I’ll have to give you a rundown on my family history, at some point. She’s Seffni’s nimen.”
Sael hadn’t seen Tanum for four years, but he remembered her being very beautiful and sweet. He did want to see her. Just not tonight. Tanum had chosen not to come greet them, perhaps because she was in mourning. But Sael suspected it was also because she knew he’d need some time alone, once he’d heard the news.
The servant girl finished setting up the table and lit the candle in the center. Then she curtseyed and disappeared without a sound, leaving the two young men alone.
“Do you know all the servants here?” Koreh asked.
Sael shrugged. “I don’t know all of them. But I lived here for a few years with Seffni before moving to the capital. I remember Kem and Diven from then. Kem was just a little girl when I left, of course—the daughter of one of the kitchen maids.”
He uncorked the bottle of red wine Kem had brought and began pouring it. He knew it should be allowed to breathe, but he didn’t really care at the moment, and he doubted Koreh would notice.
“She thinks you’re handsome.”
Sael looked up from pouring the wine, startled. “Kem? How do you know that?”
“The way she looked at you,” Koreh said casually. But there was something in his expression that belied the casual tone.
Was he jealous?
There had been a lot of girls who thought Sael was handsome, back in the royal court. Some had been obvious enough about it for him to notice. Others he’d heard about through the rumor mill. But he’d never had any interest in any of them.
Sael handed Koreh a glass goblet, half-full of the rich, woody-scented wine. “Do you like wine?”
“I like it well enough,” Koreh admitted. “You lot don’t seem to like ale much.”
“Would you prefer ale? I’m sure the kitchen has some.”
Koreh shook his head and sat down at the table. “Maybe tomorrow.”
He picked up one of the pork pies as Sael took a seat opposite him.
“You’re different here,” Koreh commented, breaking a piece of the hot crust off and popping it in his mouth. “You seem more formal. Less bitchy.”
Sael gritted his teeth at that, but refused to be baited. He needed Koreh’s company tonight. Not the unpleasant Koreh who liked to snarl at him, but the Koreh who seemed to care for him and wanted to protect him. Sael supposed there was no having one without the other, but he’d at least do what he could to tip the balance.
“I guess I’m more at home here,” he replied.
“Well, that’s good,” Koreh said. “Because this is where you’re going to spend the rest of your life, dekan.” He emphasized the title, his tone contemptuous, though Sael couldn’t understand why.
Things weren’t going well at all. Sael sighed in frustration and stood up, then went over to the window.
“What are you doing that for?” Koreh asked. “You can’t see out. They’ve locked you in and drawn the curtains. You’re sealed up like stosam in a keg.”
“Damn the curtains!” Sael snapped, yanking the edge of one so hard that the cloth tore near the top of the window. It hung limply when he let it go, leaving a gap of a few inches where he could now see out. Atnu was setting on the other side of the castle, but the sky outside was orange, fading upward to a pale yellow and then a deepening blue. The stars were beginning to appear high up in the sky, and Sael knew Druma would rise soon.
“There! Is that what you want? Maybe I should go dance naked on the balcony until somebody comes along to slit my throat….” He nearly choked on the last word and had to stop talking before tears came to embarrass him. Not tears for himself; tears for Seffni. And anger at Nedegh, who had obviously known of the assassin, but told them nothing. Thuna, too, may have known, even before they left gü-Khemed. The samöt were under the command of the ömem, and the emperor would have had to contract with them to arrange the assassination.
Nobody with any political power in the kingdom could afford not to deal with the ömem, but to do so meant opening your court to vipers.
There was a faint rustle behind him. Then strong arms encircled him from behind and Koreh’s cheek pressed against the back of his neck. Sael could smell his scent—clean, but musky and undeniably masculine—and the thought came to him that, if he did die, being held like this, with Koreh’s scent in his nostrils, would be the way to go.
“I’d like to see you dance naked on the balcony,” Koreh said quietly in his ear, his voice tinged with laughter, “but no one is going to slit your throat while I’m here.”
Koreh drew him away from the window but continued to hold him.
“He was so… happy. All the time.”
“Your brother?”
Sael nodded. “He was a lot like Father, in some ways. He was responsible and knew how to take charge. But Father is always so stern. He has no sense of humor. Seffni would tell him things like ‘I’m thinking of declaring a citywide holiday for pickling—’”
Koreh giggled in his ear.
“Exactly,” Sael continued, smiling. “Who would believe something that ludicrous? But Father would spend a quarter of an hour trying to debate the merits of his proposal, without ever seeing that it was a joke.”
Somehow, without thinking about it, Sael found himself telling stories about Seffni. Koreh guided him to the bed, where they lay together for hours, Koreh’s arms and legs wrapped around him like a protective blanket.
Every now and then, the realization he would never see Seffni again would overwhelm Sael. The first time he began to cry, he was embarrassed, fearing Koreh would tease him or tell him he was being weak. But Koreh simply held him and stroked his hair until the tears stopped for a while. It happened a few more times after that, in between the stories, but it was no longer difficult for Sael to let Koreh see it.
KOREH had been uncertain why Sael sent for him. When he saw the way he was acting and the dinner he’d had the servant girl bring, Koreh was convinced Sael wanted to seduce him. Not that Koreh would have minded.
Instead he’d ended up with Sael talking half the night and crying in his arms. But in a way, this was better. Not better because Sael was crying. Koreh hated that. But when Sael needed comfort, it was Koreh he’d turned to. And that was wonderful.
At last, Sael seemed to have cried himself out. He sat up and looked down at Koreh, smiling with undisguised affection.
When he didn’t seem inclined to say anything, Koreh said, “I’m not sure how I’m going to find my way back to my bedroom in this rat maze.”
“I was hoping you’d stay here.”
“I was hoping you’d ask,” Koreh replied, grinning.
Sael slid off the bed and walked over to the table. “Everything’s cold. Should I ring for someone to bring up something hot?”
Koreh groaned. “Aren’t the servants allowed to sleep around here? W
hat’s wrong with eating cold food?”
“Nothing,” Sael said, looking a bit hurt. “I just wanted you to be pleased.”
“I’ve eaten food out of people’s garbage. Cold or not, this food is the best I’ve ever tasted.”
Sael looked shocked, but declined comment. He picked up a plate and put two of the pork pies on it. Then he came back to sit on the bed beside Koreh. “Would you like one?”
“Won’t Diven have a stroke if we get crumbs in the bed?”
“If he finds you still here tomorrow morning,” Sael replied, biting his lower lip, “he may have a stroke with or without crumbs.”
Koreh laughed and took one of the pies. Even cold, they were delicious. Koreh ate all of his, and then stole half of Sael’s when he was foolish enough to leave it sitting on the plate too long.
After they’d eaten and Sael had put the plate back on the table, there was an awkward silence. Sael snuffed the candle on the table, then stood there for a long time. He seemed to be wrestling with something, so Koreh didn’t rush him.
“I’m not…,” Sael began, but faltered. At last he blurted out, “I don’t know how much I’m ready for.”
Koreh rolled over onto his stomach, facing him. “Being a dekan, you mean?”
Sael shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. I mean… I don’t know if I’m ready to do… everything you’d like me to do.”
It took a moment for Koreh to sort out what Sael was getting at.
Oh.
“I know we fight a lot,” he said quietly, “but you know I’d never do anything to hurt you, don’t you?”
Sael still looked uncertain, so Koreh said gently, “Come to bed, Sael.”
Sael hesitated. Then to Koreh’s surprise, he unfastened his robe and removed it to reveal… everything. He wasn’t wearing a thing underneath the robe. The sight of Sael’s naked body took Koreh’s breath away. He was a bit less muscular than Koreh, perhaps, but fit and trim, and his soft, flawless skin glowed the color of honey in the flickering candlelight.