The Birthday Dragon

by Lee Abrey

  ****

  A day later, Azrael had his birthday, and I let him do me. He wanted to. It was his birthday and I hadn’t bought him a present, something that slipped my mind in the excitement. True, I was a bit drunk. Every so often I liked to give up control. Like pissing sitting down, submission was an interesting exercise but not my natural state.

  I woke up still in Azrael’s bed. Someone was moving around outside and I looked out through the curtains. It was morning, and the noise was a maid. My servants were all sturdy middle-aged men. This was a pretty lass with curves that were apparent even in the rather strait-laced servant garb. I suspected Uncle Theo had replaced all the staff in the suite with attractive wenches designed to make a man weak. I felt very cynical as I decided she would do nicely.

  “Morning,” I said, peering through the gap in the bed-drapes. “You look good enough to eat.” She looked at me, big brown eyes wide in surprise, then smiled.

  “Sorry if I woke you, lordship.”

  “I don’t think you did,” I said, and lied glibly, “I think feeling like a tumble was what woke me. And here’s me and the Crown Prince with the woman we went to bed with apparently gone.” I looked pitiful. She laughed. “There’s nobody to take out this on,” I said. Letting the curtain fall open all the way, I watched her eyes travel south and waited.

  She’d roll her eyes and tell me to put it away, squeal and run, laugh at me, or she’d be thinking about a closer inspection. Very occasionally, she might try to hit me or throw something. I’m lucky, it’s not so big they often run screaming, but it’s generous enough that, providing I don’t induce the fight or flight instinct, most women think hmm, nice size.

  “Hmm,” she said, and smiled again, “nice size.” I was careful not to look too smug.

  “I’m Polo,” I said, as polite as a man on display can be, “he’s Azrael.” There was a grunt from behind me. “Who are you?” I said.

  “Eva,” she said. I smiled.

  “What a beautiful name.” I rolled it on my tongue. “Eva.” I held my hand out. “Want to come in, Eva?” She looked doubtful.

  “Is he very ugly, the prince?” she said. I laughed.

  “No,” I said, “the girls like him.” I turned, holding the curtain back, and Azrael for once didn’t launch into some angst-ridden declamation about his gay tendencies. He lay there, smouldering, looking like the poster boy for desire, his black hair a bit too long, falling in a floppy barely-awake hank over one of his dark blue eyes. His body was completely masculine, something I found attractive. Eva melted.

  She didn’t know he was smouldering for me, but we soon changed that. He merely needed some encouragement to worship at the altar of the female form. Like one of my hands knotted in his hair and my other knotted in hers, as I kissed one then the other and they followed my lead into a three-way kiss so hot I was surprised we didn’t just burn up. Then I leaned back a bit and let them kiss each other. Azrael caught my eye, and I could see his surprise. I raised my eyebrows, was he alright? He smiled, closed his eyes, and kissed Eva deeply. The three of us had some fun. It’s amazing what you can do when you’re young and have lube.

  Sated again, I showered and dressed. Sitting at a small coffee table in the bedroom, I smoked a pipe of mindweed. From behind the bed-drapes came steady sounds of sex. Slick, sticky sounds. Squeals, giggles, grunts and lots of panting. It was soothing, like being next to water. I decided to take my new horse for a good outing. Then breakfast. After that, another shower. As I travelled I needed to tell as many people as possible that I left the Crown Prince doing a girl. There would probably be ringing of bells and much rejoicing. A national holiday might be declared.

  “Mmm,” said Eva behind the curtain, “do it, Azrael. Yes, like that! Uh!” I smiled, and decided to leave them to it. On the way out I ran into Fenric.

  “Hello,” I said, “should I call you Fenric or would you prefer Captain?”

  “Fenric,” he said, “glad I caught you, Polo. Is it true, Himself has a girl in there?” I nodded, feeling very smug. I jerked my head towards the bedroom.

  “Listen,” I said. Obligingly, the young lovers were getting rather explicit and loud. Fenric was a cynic.

  “He’s not paid her to say that?” I laughed.

  “No, go look if you don’t believe me.” He did. I waited, and he came out looking stunned.

  “Sixty-nine-ing,” he said, “and with enthusiasm. That’s hard to fake. They didn’t even notice me.”

  “Aye,” I said, “and he’s done her in the usual way, too. I was a witness. Azrael isn’t gay. He’s a bit unsure of himself.” Fenric sounded thoughtful.

  “You’re not gay?” he said. I shook my head.

  “I prefer women,” I said. “Not always, but enough that I’m not gay.”

  “Me too.” He smiled. “I’m about to start a day off.” It was Sunday. My coach journey was on the Wednesday and I was now officially on two weeks of school holidays.

  “I’ve a new horse to exercise,” I said, “that’s where I’m headed. Want to come?” I smiled at the double-entendre. “I need to change. I’m just next door.”

  “Aye, I need to change too. I’m down at the new fort.”

  “I’ll walk down to the stables,” I said, “bring a horse across for you.”

  “Tell them I want to take Mr Nasty out.” There was a pause while I raised my eyebrows. “Seriously,” said Fenric, looking amused, “that’s his name. Fenric’s horse, they know him. I’ll get changed, meet you at the stables, front entrance.”

  ****

  To my surprise, the groom knew exactly which horse I meant. While I saddled my beautiful black-and-white boy, the groom fetched and saddled a leggy black, leaving me with both horses. Until Fenric arrived, changed into fatigues, I talked to the animals about how exciting living at the citadel was. Fenric tapped his chest.

  “Good to be out of armour,” he said.

  “You have to wear it all the time?” He nodded.

  “Can’t risk us being taken out, leaving Himself alone.” We rode through the city, me so impressed with my new horse. I loved everything about Acordia Cloudwalker. I hadn’t decided what to call him. Cloud was no good as he wasn’t a grey. Patches was too mundane, didn’t do him justice. Call me shallow, I even loved how people noticed him, how much they admired him. He seemed to like it too. One of those horses that knew exactly how handsome he was.

  We rode to the Norwest Gate, where there was easy access to the Sendren Preserve, managed woodland. Many of the trees were incredibly tall. It contained some of the oldest forest in Sendren and had only survived because the kings had declared it protected.

  “If it were left up to the people,” said Fenric, who had decided to give me a history lesson, which I didn’t mind, being fond of that kind of thing, “it would have been stripped clean three thousand years ago. Folk don’t look after the land, too lazy. Then they bitch that there’s no firewood inside walking distance.”

  “All people?” I said, “Us Blood included?” He laughed.

  “Aye, lad, we’re people, and mostly-human, remember? We Blood have all the wonderful human traits. Like them, we can be lazy, quick to anger, stupid and most of all, short-sighted.” I laughed.

  It felt good to be out of the encircling walls of the city and citadel. It began to pour with rain. We stopped for a while, to have a smoke under cover of a giant tree, and he explained the basic layout of the forest rides so I could find my way round. I enjoyed the outing and felt Fenric had changed his mind about Polo Shawcross, after not thinking much of me when we first met. I was beginning to like Fenric too. As a man, and not just some heroic cipher.

  ****

  Chapter 13 – Adventure, Stationery, and Sleep

  Back at the citadel, Fenric was on his way to crash in his quarters, and I went to the bathhouse, feeling good. Floating in one of the hot pools, when someone swam up on my left side I was almost oblivious. Then he was too close, and I began to lift my head, in time to ca
tch a glimpse of a person as he pushed me under with both hands on my throat. It wasn’t just a ducking. He didn’t let go. I went straight for his scrotum.

  After all, it was a very dangerous situation and I had the right to fight back in any form. My attacker went rigid and let me go. I surfaced, spluttering, one fist in a death grip around the bastard’s testicles. I didn’t know who he was, some blonde about Fenric’s size. If less annoyed, I would have gulped with fear in anticipation of the pain he was going to inflict on me if I didn’t drop him first. I didn’t have time to worry but flicked my hair back with a snarl and punched him in the jaw with my free hand, still gripping his scrotum hard with the other.

  A couple of people about my age jumped me, but providing the sonofabitch was still conscious, I was holding on. For a while, until the ones trying to separate us figured out why their friend was so loud, there was much screaming. As the others told me, his name was Indigo.

  “Quain’s sake, let go!” said one holding me, his lips close by my ear. “You’re going to geld Indigo!”

  “Good!” I said, scowling, still trying to shake my captors off. There were two of them, both at least as strong as I was, one of them even bigger than Indigo, but they weren’t trying to hurt me so eventually I let go.

  “Get Indigo up, Rudy,” said the one at my ear.

  “Bailey,” began Rudy, the very big one, “shouldn’t we-” Bailey was firm.

  “Rudy, you should let go of Polo Shawcross.” Rudy dropped me so fast I nearly fell over, but the one called Bailey held me up. “You alright, Polo?” I nodded, coughing, finding my feet. Bailey was about my height but more solid. We both stood just above chest-high in the water.

  Dark hair, blue eyes scattered with stars. Another Westwych? The place was infested. Bailey shifted his hold on me to one supporting rather than constrictive. I yanked away from him, shaking from the adrenalin, and ducked my head under, slicked my hair back, and surfaced still angry with idiots. Several servants appeared. Rudy was supporting Indigo over on the steps in the shallow end. Indigo was saying he felt sick. A servant ran for a bucket.

  “Who are you,” I said to the one next to me, “and who is Indigo?”

  “Indigo Sutherland.” The name meant nothing to me. “And we haven’t met, I’m Bailey Westwych. Sorry, Indigo’s feeling his oats.” The servant made it back as Indigo brought up his oats, or whatever he had for breakfast.

  “If he can’t control himself,” I said, trying to snap out of fight mode, “he shouldn’t be allowed out in public.” I breathed out and relaxed a bit. “Sonofabitch tried to drown me.”

  “We’ve been drinking all night,” said Bailey, still sounding apologetic, “holiday stupidity. Don’t pay any attention to Indigo.” I nodded. Indigo seemed to have passed out. Were these the kind of boys I’d be at school with? It was the village school all over again. Only this lot were as strong as I was. Or stronger. I sighed and I guessed I could look forward to more broken noses.

  Randy and a servant had Indigo out on the walkway beside the pool and were checking his pulse. He seemed alright but unconscious. I didn’t think I hit him that hard, it must have been the testicular compression combined with the booze.

  “Anyway,” Bailey said and gave me a smile, as if to say let’s remember our manners, even if everyone else is being stupid. He offered his hand above the water, “Bailey.” I took it and managed a smile in return.

  “Polo.” Some men came with a stretcher and began loading Indigo onto it. As the threat of violence receded the other servants went back to work. I nodded to Bailey and headed off to dry.

  ****

  The servant who handed me towels had it figured out.

  “Indigo’s jealous,” said the man, “before Azrael moved here, he was the king’s favourite.” I frowned. “And of course, the king likes you. Another rival. But you, you’re nobody so he can try to fight you, where he daren’t risk calling Azrael out.” He paused. “Don’t mean any offence, lordship, but you know what I mean? You’re not one of the rich titled Blood so in his eyes, you’re nobody and safe to take his feelings out on.”

  “It’s fine,” I said, nodding, “no offence taken. I am nobody, and my da’s a peasant, so I can understand that part. I don’t understand why would Indigo think he would be king? I mean Azrael is the king’s grandson and heir.” The man wagged a towel, looking wise.

  “Aye,” he said, “but the Crown Princess who was, Azrael’s mother, she kept him away from Peterhaven over at Sutherland Castle. Good idea, I can see where Herself was doing the right thing not letting him grow up at Court, but Indigo was thinking he was more important in the king’s affections than young Azrael. Maybe the king would make him the heir.” Not for the first time I was amazed by my countrymen’s grasp of the convoluted trails of information around the place.

  “Him?” I said. “But Indigo’s not the blood heir.” The man nodded.

  “Ah, but Indigo’s father, Cobalt, is a first cousin to the king. The king and old Cobalt Sutherland have been friends since they were boys. Indigo’s Cobalt’s eldest son from the second marriage so not standing to inherit anything from his own father.” The man shook his head. “Old Cobalt must have fifteen children by now.”

  “But Azrael is the direct heir to the throne,” I said, “doesn’t that count for something?” I still didn’t get it.

  “Aye,” said the servant, “but replacing the heir isn’t unheard of. They wanted the king to do it with the late Crown Prince, him having his drinking problem.”

  ****

  As the adrenalin rush of hitting Indigo subsided, I was half-asleep on my feet, so headed back to the western part of the citadel, found my room, and fell into a bed that had been made with fresh linens while I was out. Yes, I decided, I could really get used to this.

  It was lunchtime but I told Bernard I was exhausted, not to wake me for anything, thank you, please pass my apologies to anyone who asked about me, then passed out.

  ****

  When I woke, it was dawn, first Monday of the school holidays, though I only found that out when Bernard told me. I had slept for twenty-one hours. I needed the privy badly and couldn’t remember my last proper workout.

  After a ride I went to a corner of the gardens outside the citadel garrison, and went through the katas, turning it into a dance. It was meditation. One stepped through the exercises slowly, repeating each movement, then did the same at speed.

  Once warmed up I went to the garrison sparring pits, fought several men I could beat then several I couldn’t. It gave me my edge back and some new bruises. Once I did that, sore and sweating, I went to the bathhouse, though I looked around before shutting my eyes. The servants who helped me dry and dress also applied witch-hazel tonic to my bruises.

  Purely by chance, I had breakfast with Saraia. She saw me walk in and waved me over. She smelled of horse, her cheeks pink. She was dressed simply, in breeches, boots, a plain shirt, with a riding jacket over the back of the chair. Her copper hair was tied back neatly. Breakfast was as informal as life at Court ever was, people in dressing gowns with hair wet from the baths, those just in from exercise or riding and those just awake. I was all four.

  “Get yourself a tray,” Saraia said, gesturing towards the laden tables of the buffet, “then come sit with me.”

  On a servant’s advice, I decided on porridge to start, and headed back to Saraia. Another servant came past with a pot of coffee, there was cream, milk, butter, sugar, honey, and other condiments on the table, though the mustard man brought round some fifty varieties of pickles, mustards, and chilli pastes.

  Saraia didn’t ask me straightaway. We made small-talk as eating and people sitting nearby allowed, and she let me get through the porridge then partway through my next course, scrambled eggs, served with ham on toast. It was all quite delectable, and I was focused on first on thick oats with cream and honey, then on delicate scrambled eggs with ham, the butter rich on the toast, everything melding, all delicious.

&nb
sp; “I hear you and Azrael had a lass together,” she said finally. I nodded carefully, wiping my mouth to buy time while I figured out the right answer. I didn’t know if she was pleased or not. “He really did her?” She was hopeful. I smiled.

  “For hours,” I said, “he loved it. Fenric’s a witness. So am I. To them doing it, I mean.” She smiled.

  “That’s a relief.”

  “Everyone’s so pleased,” I said, a bit sarcastically. She looked at me. “He’s more than a sire, you know. More than the heir. He’s a real person. You’re making him feel like a freak, the way you put him under the microscope then misinterpret every twitch. People kept telling him he was gay until he believed them, despite his own feelings to the contrary. He’s not gay.”

  “You’re very protective of him,” she said, “for someone who hasn’t even known him a week.” Her tone was haughty and I didn’t blame her, I’d gone too far. I shrugged.

  “Someone has to be,” I said.

  “I’m his mother,” she said. I smiled. Mostly from relief, as I saw a way out of the conversational pit I’d dug.

  “Aye, but Saraia, you understand me very well. We can talk about almost anything and you can give me good advice. I’ll even listen to you because I think you’re trying to help me make a good choice, not push your own agenda. Nevertheless, you don’t understand your son. My mother could understand Azrael, give him good advice, but she doesn’t understand me.” I rolled my eyes. “At all.” Saraia took a sip of coffee.

  “He’s taken to saying that,” she said, “saying I don’t understand him. Even rolls his eyes like you just did.” I smiled.