Markis tried to explain what had just happened out there but found it difficult, being as nothing like it had ever happened to him before. How had the comet known? Ryanac voiced almost the same thought.
“That damn power of yours acts as though it’s alive sometimes. Even if it is, why would it know Stargazer is to blame?”
Uly frowned, and then his eyes widened. “He tried to kill mhhhff ‑‑”
The sentenced ended on a muffled sound as Markis put a hand over his mouth and ushered Uly back towards the main part of their suite. Almost there, he looked to Ryanac. “I don’t know, but I saw enough to suspect. I don’t know why the comet reacted that way, why it affected me. Maybe it was because of what I was feeling. His was the only malevolent face in the crowd, the only one down there with so much hatred in his expression, the only one who looked disgusted. By the comet!” Markis turned away and only just managed to refrain from stamping his feet or throwing a punch at the wall. “If I’d let the comet have its way, maybe I could have learned everything. I just couldn’t stand touching that man’s mind for a moment. If it’s true, what do we do?”
“Nothing…for now.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but Ryanac shook his head. “Even the king cannot accuse someone without proof, especially someone in such a position.”
The guard only gave voice to Markis’s thoughts and probably said it for Uly’s benefit. He didn’t have to like it, though. “We could be wrong.”
“The way he just looked at you?”
“You saw?”
“I saw.”
Why? Why, why, why would Stargazer do such a thing? There was no love lost between them, but all the same… “Maybe it was a single incident.” Markis felt foolish even for saying it. Maybe Stargazer had made only one attempt on Uly’s life so we can forgive it? Markis deserved the contemptuous look Ryanac sent his way.
“And that makes it forgivable?”
“No, but…” Markis paced, ran a hand through his hair. He had it tied in a ponytail. His action was so violent it pulled a few strands loose, snapped the clip. His hair fell around him in a dark cloud. Even in the midst of anxiety, he could see Uly and Ryanac took note of this. Their admiring glances gave him a little shiver of pleasure. Uly bent to retrieve the clip.
“I did steal the book,” Markis whispered. “I used Uly to do it, and Stargazer knows. This could be my fault.”
“Don’t do that to yourself.” Ryanac sounded less than pleased.
“The book has helped you?” Uly asked. Markis nodded. “Then it was worth it. I’ll steal you ten such books if they help give you peace.”
The emotion behind the words warmed more than his heart. He and Ryanac exchanged a look.
“We watch. We wait,” the big man said.
“The two things I hate to do most.”
Uly smiled at his reply. Ryanac chuckled.
* * * * *
The knowledge that Stargazer might have had something to do with the attempt on Uly’s life ate away in Markis’s gut, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He wondered what was keeping Uly. The young man had gone off to another part of the suite to fetch a book to read. The world had fallen silent and still. Breathless, it waited.
Tressa shivered and ran her hands up her arms. “What is that?”
“The impending storm I predicted.”
“How can I feel it? It is as though it has life.”
“Oh, it has life.” Markis paced. The atmosphere made him restless. He would calm only when the storm broke and maybe not even then. Ryanac watched him, clearly amused. His friend knew how storms affected him. Once, they had made love in the rain, but that was long ago before they went off to separate academies.
“Should we not close the doors?”
“If we do that the suite will quickly grow warm. The eaves should protect the balconies from the rain. If any water gets in it won’t damage the floors as they are marble. Just be careful not to slip on them.” The heat of the day had faded with the light, but the air held weight. Oppressive, heavy, it bore down on them all. In the distance, a long rumble crawled through the night. Tressa jumped.
“Afraid, Sardia?” Ryanac asked lazily.
She turned to glare at him. They were all still dressed ‑‑ or undressed ‑‑ as before. Tressa had kept her top off when sweat had started to trickle down her sides. She refused to give up her skirts. The material was Swithin produced and gauzy, but Markis wouldn’t have wanted even that against his skin. It clung to her in dark patches. “I am afraid of nothing,” she barked.
“Except nudity.” Ryanac was clearly in a mood to annoy her.
Her gaze narrowed. “Casual nudity is unnecessary.”
“So are clothes in here on a hot day.”
Tressa clearly wanted to argue but didn’t seem to know how. “You Swithin can be very frustrating,” she finally said.
“We Swithin just accept the natural way of things, and aren’t you Swithin now? I recall someone very much wanting to leave her backward nation behind. Now she argues with the very way of life she wanted.”
“I do not argue. I just think you take it to extremes.”
Ryanac shrugged. “Perhaps. Better we take acceptance to extremes than oppress the masses into believing the natural state of their own lives is a sin.”
Her mouth snapped shut. “I do try, you know,” she said, a moment later.
“I know.” The tone in which the big man spoke was amazingly warm and gentle. Tressa looked at him, clearly suspicious, and then gave him a small smile. Ryanac reached for her hand. Openly uncertain, she took it. He pulled her onto his lap. He half-sat, half-lay on a couch, his legs straight out. Pulling Tressa above him meant they shared a lot of skin contact.
She laughed and then told him to let go. He shook his head. “I want a kiss.”
“I refuse.”
Again, he shook his head. “No, you don’t.”
If Ryanac said she didn’t, then Markis tended to believe him. Tressa only wanted to refuse in order to refuse, not because she didn’t want the kiss.
“I am your queen. I order you to let me go. In fact, I order you to run me a cool bath.”
He laughed. Tressa blinked in what seemed to be genuine surprise. Markis echoed the emotion. Up until that point, he had believed she teased. “You order me,” Ryanac said. Unfortunately, Tressa clearly took it to mean he was actually asking. She nodded.
“You order me, Samari, a captain of the guard, to run you a bath?”
A frown drew down her brow. “Yes.”
Ryanac glanced from her to Markis’s face. “That’s a good one.”
She looked from one to the other of them. “If Markis asked you to run him a bath, what would you do?”
The dark eyes that had been sparkling with merriment grew hard. “I would run it for him.”
“Then I do not see the difference.”
The time had come for Markis to speak up. “I would ask him. I would not order him.” Her frown increased.
“He serves you. He takes your orders.”
“He takes my orders when related to his job.” Most of the time. “If Ryanac ran me a bath, it would likely be because he meant to share it.”
She set her lips in a determined line. Ryanac brushed his fingers down the side of her face. “I swear you argue with us just for the sake of it. Now give me that kiss and make up.” She shook her head, but Ryanac’s patience had run out. Markis opened his mouth to say something, but too late. Ryanac lifted the small woman into a position where he could steal a kiss. Even from this angle, Markis could see she fastened her teeth against his lip. Ryanac’s eyes had gone back to twinkling. He spoke against her mouth so the words sounded muffled.
“If my lady bites, I will bite back.”
She drew back instantly.
“Stop fighting me. You want the kiss as much as I do. You only deny yourself. You’ve not touched anyone but Markis for weeks.”
Markis blinked. That was what
had bothered him recently. He’d noticed but pushed it to the back of his mind. No wonder she’d been so frustrated, and as to why… Tressa tutted. Her protest broke in on his thoughts, and Markis was glad of the distraction. He felt too hot, too listless to give the thought much consideration. He chose to think over it another day.
“I am your queen. Why should I do what a mere guard says?”
Ryanac’s eyes widened. He tilted his head to one side and peered past her to Markis. “Mere?” he asked. Markis couldn’t help it; he smirked.
“You are supposed to do what I say,” Tressa insisted.
“Lady, I don’t even do what Markis says.”
Markis rolled his eyes in fake frustration and pouted. “Not even if I say please?”
“Oh, the two of you!” Tressa began to push at Ryanac’s chest, but she might as well have pushed against one of the marble floors or the walls. All she managed to do was wriggle against him, something he clearly enjoyed. She gasped, stilled. Markis swallowed. She had to feel the solid length of Ryanac’s cock pressing into her. The gauze parted under Ryanac’s hands, and Markis closed his eyes. The seamstresses were going to throw a fit.
“I hear you’re not getting enough, Tressa,” Ryanac said. Somehow, he had managed to position her perfectly. By relaxing his grip her weight drew her down his body. She slowly drifted down onto his erection. Her eyes widened, and her mouth parted as she did, but her gaze swiftly turned distant. From Markis’s position, he had a fine view of Ryanac’s cock sinking into the depths of her sex.
“Is this enough for you?” Ryanac whispered, bringing their faces together though he had to curl his body to do so. He took his kiss.
Markis watched; his cock stirred. Ryanac laid back, seemingly content, arms behind his head, ankles still crossed, with Tressa securely skewered. Markis still watched, waited with Ryanac for Tressa to regain her composure. Perhaps composure wasn’t the right word. Consciousness was closer to it. She stared into Ryanac’s eyes, tried to move, found she couldn’t. The acute angle clearly didn’t allow her to move up his body without considerable strain to her arms and legs. The effort would forestall her pleasure. She couldn’t slip down, for she was as far down as the rigid length inside of her would allow. The only way Tressa could have sex was at Ryanac’s command. He proved this a moment later when he reached for her. Gripping her around the waist, he moved her easily back and forth, up and down.
If she had opened her mouth with the purpose of a protest, her moan drowned it out. The angle, the way her legs were wide open, the tightness of their groins, had to give her the greatest stimulation. Markis grew hard. Ryanac’s gaze flicked to his cock and then up to his face.
“Why don’t you go find Uly?” he said. He looked down into Tressa’s eyes. “The queen and I are going to get reacquainted.”
“So much for being king and you taking my orders,” Markis remarked.
Ryanac looked up at him, his hands behind his head once more, Tressa waiting, pinned to his cock. The guard’s tongue snaked out to touch his middle two front teeth and licked the midpoint of his top lip. The gesture, though peculiar, said that Markis would pay for that remark. He didn’t know whether to fear the idea or look forward to it.
* * * * *
The wind stirred Uly’s hair. Not used to it being so long, it felt strange, sensual. Uly had never understood the idea of sensuality until he met Markis. He clutched at the doorframe. The room behind him lay in darkness, darker even than the night. He didn’t think anyone out there could see him, but he couldn’t be sure. He wanted to step outside but stood huddled against the doorframe.
“What is it, Uly?” The voice coming so softly out of the gloom at his back made him jump. He hadn’t heard Markis approach. Of course, the man was barefoot, bare of anything. Uly didn’t as much as look at him; he just clung to the edge of the door. Gentle fingers stirred the hair at his neck. “What’s wrong?”
His throat felt dry suddenly. He swallowed, and then licked his lips. Aware of Markis’s gaze, still Uly stared out into the night. The wind picked up. It blew oddly, both cool and hot at once. It tickled over his skin, then whipped at it. If the doors weren’t pinned back, they would have banged in the wind. The whisper and rustle of leaves was the only sound, yet that suggested something soft. The motion in the night was primordial, called to his basic needs. He wanted to run like an animal, wild and free. He had done that once on the streets, but it hadn’t truly been freedom. You couldn’t be free while you struggled for the next crust of bread to eat. There were many types of cages.
“I feel trapped.” The words left his lips before he realised what he intended to say. Markis drew close but didn’t touch him. He was just a warm presence at his back.
“Why? Have I done something wrong?”
Uly shook his head. “No. You’ve never made me feel trapped. You’ve always made me feel free.” If the realisation and admittance stunned him, it had to do something to Markis. Finally, Uly looked at Shavar from the corner of his eye. His words had an effect. That dark gaze lay in shadow apart from a small pinprick of light, yet he could feel the weight and heat of Markis’s gaze.
“Even when I dragged you unwillingly into the palace?” There existed something sardonic in the voice. Uly gave him a wry smile.
“No. Not then, but soon afterwards. I can’t explain it. It just felt…right.” He had looked back out into the night, but now he faced Markis, pressing his back into the doorframe, edging a little into the room, hunching as though he could make himself small. He was tall, though not as tall as Markis. He hadn’t hunched for months, if he discounted the incident with the dress. His skin twitched as though it were a separate thing and wanted away from his flesh. His blood flowed too fast. “There’s much I didn’t realise at the time, but it felt right to be with you. Like I had found…home.” He deliberated over the word, but it rang true.
Markis looked away. “I’m sure a palace would feel like home to many who lived on the streets.” The words were full of a quiet bitterness. Uly shook his head, reached out to touch Markis’s arm, then let the hand fall back to his side.
“I don’t mean the palace. I mean you. I felt at home with you.”
A rumble growled through the sky. A bright flash lit up the darkness, then was gone, leaving a reproduction as an image at the back of his eye. Uly cowered.
“Are you scared of the storm?”
He couldn’t tell if Markis wanted to offer him comfort or felt disappointment to think he would be scared of such a thing. “No,” he said. “Not the storm.”
“What then?”
“Someone tried to kill me.” He looked up into Markis’s eyes. “I knew it, have known it all these weeks, but I didn’t feel it until earlier. You tensed, and I felt your fear.”
“I’ll do my best to protect you.”
Uly laughed, and it contained a sick sound. “I’m glad you didn’t promise to succeed.”
Markis sighed. “Ryanac and life have taught me the futility of that. I could promise to save you and fail too easily. I can only promise to do my best.”
“Good. That’s good enough.” Uly glanced outside. He didn’t want to look at Markis while he said the rest. “Can someone see us from here?”
“No.”
“If I went outside would it make me a target?”
“No. Not even an archer could aim at arrow at you here. There’s nothing nearby to aim from.”
“The trees?”
“You can hear them, but the sound travels. They are further than you think, and the angle is wrong.”
“I thought so, but I…”
“You were afraid to step out.”
“I didn’t want to get myself killed doing something so innocent yet foolish. I didn’t want you to find me with an arrow in me because of something silly.” He looked back to Markis now, ready to say what he had to say and look at him as he did. “I felt your fear,” he whispered, afraid now that the noise of the fast approaching storm would make his
words inaudible. “I felt your love.”
He could hardly see Markis now. The shadows drew in with the storm.
“You know I love you.”
“I know it, but today I felt it. Felt your pain, your fear.” Tears pricked the back of his eyes. Even as he willed them away, they filled his eyes and overflowed. Markis brushed a tear from his cheek, took it to his lips and licked it away.
“What’s wrong?”
Something crashed in the distance. Even Markis turned his gaze, but they couldn’t see what it was and could do nothing about it. There was a smell like the sharp scent of the woods. It didn’t belong here. It came from within the storm, making the hair on the back of Uly’s arms crawl to attention. The night had become wild and reckless. It spoke to something inside him.
“I’ve never told you,” Uly said. “I love you.”
Markis opened his mouth to speak, but Uly shook his head.
“No. Don’t tell me I have, for I haven’t. I chose my words carefully that day we first arrived here,” he said, referring to when Markis had taken him out on a horse to see something of the surrounding lands. They had stood in a garden looking out to the horizon and talked about love, but he had not said the words. “I told you I cared for you. I told you what I thought of you. I don’t recall using the word love. I was too afraid. Don’t tell me I don’t have to say it. Don’t tell me I’ve shown you, or you know from things I’ve done. You’ve said it to me, but I’ve never said it back. I want to tell you. You have to know. Without you, I would never have known what it was like to love someone and feel loved in return. I love you.”
If anyone saw Markis now, they would see only a man, not a king or Shavar. He looked helpless. He gave a slight nod. “We love each other then. Something we already knew.”
Uly returned the nod. “Yet though I was afraid to say it, I never feared it the way I do now.” Markis frowned, waiting. Uly already knew the question. “I’ve never wanted anything for myself.” He shook his head to stop Markis’s interruption. “I’ve desired food and shelter, but I’ve never wanted anything that wasn’t immediately important.”
“That’s not true,” Markis said. “You sought comfort.”
The Swithin Chronicles 3: The Comet Cometh Page 15