‘And the rumours of Prince Rivil’s—’ Galtas raised a finger. ‘Forgive me, King Rivil’s, ah, religious beliefs?’
‘Are rumours, my lord.’ Galtas spread his hands. ‘King Rivil did what was necessary to bring this city from under the heel of a mad tyrant. An alliance with the Mireces was unfortunate but necessary and, of course, the foolish and the deranged will spread rumours in consequence. You’ve seen he has the East Rank fighting for his cause – do you actually believe all five thousand of them could have converted to the Red Gods?’
He laughed and they joined in, albeit tentatively. ‘No, my lords, there is nothing to fear from King Rivil, and much to be gained. Yes?’
The men exchanged another look, a small nod. ‘Yes. Very well, let us continue. We have a written report here—’
‘Verbal please,’ Galtas interrupted, holding up a hand. ‘And I’d suggest you burn that. We don’t need any evidence pointing back to you fine gentlemen, do we?’
They blanched and acquiesced so quickly that Galtas wondered, not for the first time, if he wasn’t dealing with drooling idiots. Still, a man took his allies where he found them, especially in times such as these.
He leant back in Rivil’s chair and put his boots on the table. Across from him, as he had known they would, Lords Lorca and Silais began spilling their guts.
CRYS
Fourth moon, morning, day thirty-four of the siege
Guest wing, the palace, Rilporin, Wheat Lands
It was weird to be back in the quarters he’d stayed in when he’d brought word to Durdil of Rivil’s betrayal and Janis’s murder, and what was even weirder was that he was now sharing them – and the bed – with Ash Bowman.
It was just the two of them, and they weren’t due at the wall until midnight. Alone for two perfect, heady days. Crys had decided as soon as they got in there that he wasn’t leaving the room for anything, and neither was Ash, whether he wanted to or not. So far they hadn’t.
‘Left eye.’ Crys closed his left eye. ‘Right eye.’ He closed his right eye, opening the left. ‘Left eye.’ Ash paused and then grinned. ‘Amazing. Blue eye, brown eye, it’s like being in bed with two different men.’
Crys arched his eyebrows even as he blushed. Why am I still blushing after yesterday, and last night, and this morning, twice? Just the memory of it heated his skin and made him want to kiss Ash, but even now he didn’t know how to make the first move. Which was more than stupid.
Ash solved the dilemma for him, though, seeing the want in Crys’s face and burning kisses along his throat to his mouth. Crys’s stomach did a lazy somersault and his hand tightened on Ash’s waist. ‘Let’s never leave this bed,’ he murmured when Ash let him up for air.
‘If wishes were horses, lover, I’d ride you all night.’ Ash laughed and stroked his thumb across Crys’s cheekbone. ‘I love that you still blush, love. And I love the feel of you next to me.’ He kissed Crys’s jaw. ‘On me.’ His mouth. ‘In me.’
Crys’s stomach flipped harder this time. ‘It’s settled then. There’s food and wine and water. A bed. A fire. A locked door. We’re never leaving.’
Ash chuckled and licked the lobe of his ear. ‘There are all those things, yes. And outside that locked door is the palace of Rilporin. We’re in the very heart of Rilpor, the seat of government where they make all those laws that says this’ – he splayed his hand on Crys’s chest – ‘is wrong. Illegal.’
‘This isn’t wrong,’ Crys protested, pulling Ash tighter against him. ‘It isn’t,’ he insisted and kissed him, their tongues twining together, Ash’s sweat on Crys’s skin, salty-hot.
Ash groaned and broke the kiss. ‘You don’t have to convince me, love. But the fact remains we’re already courting disaster by not having opened that door for a day and a half. If anyone finds us, you’ll be court-martialled and hanged and I’ll be beheaded with the common criminals. And it’s not very easy to pledge undying devotion to you when I’m dead, is it?’
Crys barely heard him over the hammering of his heart. He looked up, a little bleary, as the words cut through the fog of lust. ‘Undying devotion?’
Now it was Ash’s turn to blush. ‘Sorry, I’ve always had a thing for men in uniform. Forget I said it.’
Crys shook his head. ‘Not a chance.’ His mischievous grin was suddenly back and he felt more at ease tangled in Ash’s arms and legs, enjoying the play of sunlight over their skins, Crys’s pale to Ash’s dark. ‘Say it again,’ he whispered and kissed Ash’s chest, licked the sweat from the hollow in his throat.
Ash laughed low in his throat. ‘Devotion,’ he whispered, ‘utter, uncontrollable, endless devotion. I could spend the rest of my life with my hands on your arse – and not just my hands, either.’ Crys blushed yet again but the thought set his heart racing and cock yearning.
‘You’re my hearth in winter,’ Ash said, his voice suddenly serious and Crys looked up, met his eyes with his heart leaping like a salmon. He’s not saying that. Not those words … He wouldn’t …
‘My hope in war, my ship in a storm, my—’ Ash continued.
He is. He’s saying them. ‘My heart in your chest,’ Crys finished for him. They stared at each other in silence for a few moments. ‘Those are serious words for someone you’ve only spent a few weeks with, Ash. Words like that can hurt if they’re not meant.’
‘I’m a simple man,’ Ash whispered as he rolled on top of Crys, mindful of his broken ribs. ‘I say what I mean, when I mean it. I rarely lie, and never in bed. I’ve never met anyone like you, and I am … smitten. I am, if you will have me, heart-bound.’
Tears gathered in Crys’s eyes and a muffled sob made its way out of his chest as Ash jerked up. ‘Gods, your ribs, sorry,’ he began and Crys dragged him back down, heedless of the pain, fingers tight in Ash’s curls.
‘Kiss me, you idiot,’ he whispered, suddenly fierce. ‘My heart-bound, beautiful idiot.’ There was a tightness in his chest that had nothing to do with broken ribs or Ash’s weight pressing down on him and although it was hard to breathe, he had no intentions of letting Ash up or letting him leave. Not ever. ‘I will have you, Ash Bowman,’ he said after the kiss. ‘And I give you mine, both heart and hearth, if you will have me.’
Ash’s smile was wide, his eyes alive with love. ‘Then it is done,’ he said.
Heart-bound. To a man. To Ash. I’m heart-bound to Ash. Crys found he was laughing and wincing at the same time and he found Ash’s cock had swelled and Ash’s fingers were tracing tingling lines of fire across the back of his thigh and—
There was a knock at the door. ‘Captain Tailorson,’ called a voice that sounded suspiciously like Major Renik and Crys yelped, flung Ash off him and leapt out of bed, his cock shrivelling rapidly and all his hurts overtaking the lust in one great crashing wave so that he staggered, groaning, and nearly fell, only undiluted panic keeping him upright.
‘What do we do?’ he hissed as Ash stretched in the bed and pulled the covers back up, looking anything but concerned.
Ash chuckled. ‘Put your clothes at the bottom of the other bed and get in it, you sex-crazed maniac,’ he said, as though it was obvious. Which it was.
Crys followed his advice just as a second knock, this time brash and imperious, shattered the quiet of the room. ‘Just a moment,’ Crys said in his best just-woken-up voice and Ash pressed his face to the pillow to stifle his giggles as Crys leapt into his trousers and opened the door. He snapped to attention and saluted. ‘Major Renik.’ Renik peered into the room and Ash closed his eyes. Crys held a finger to his lips and gestured to the corridor, grabbed a shirt and followed Renik out, closing the door behind him.
‘Is there a problem, sir? The enemy?’ Gods, I smell of sex. Stink of it. Can I say it was Dalli? He coughed over a laugh. Only if I want her to cut my lungs out.
Crys did up his shirt with unsteady fingers and snapped into parade rest as he tried not to ooze sex. He swallowed another giggle.
‘General Mace Koridam has apprise
d his father, Commander Durdil Koridam, of your conduct over the last weeks,’ Renik began and Crys’s manic laughter dried up as the noose of his impending execution tightened around his throat.
‘Major, whatever you may have heard—’
Renik spoke over him. ‘He’s aware, of course, of your earlier efforts to bring us news of Rivil’s treachery and to save the Prince Janis. You are henceforth promoted into Major Wheeler’s position, with all the rights and responsibilities that entails. Congratulations.’
Crys gaped at him and Renik took his unresisting hand and shook it, then clasped his forearm in the warrior’s grip. ‘You’re allowed to say thank you, Tailorson,’ he added.
‘I thought I was being arrested,’ he said and Renik frowned. ‘Thank you, sir,’ Crys managed, not sure how he felt about stepping into Wheeler’s boots on account of having killed the man who’d previously worn them. ‘When should I report for duty?’
‘Dusk, I’m afraid, not midnight like the Commander originally promised. We’re sorely pressed for officers, so you’ll have to do.’ He managed a tired smile. ‘You’ll have command of the southern wall, operating out of South Tower One. The trebuchet’s nearly through the stump wall and then they’ll be on that gate like crows on a dead dog. There is to be no breach, do you understand?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Crys said.
Renik slapped him on the arm. ‘Just Renik now, Tailorson. We’re equals.’
‘Yes, sir, Renik,’ Crys said and saluted.
‘Probably don’t need to do that either.’ Renik laughed. ‘Just out of interest, what did you think I was arresting you for?’ he added, a quizzical twist to his eyebrows.
Crys’s mind fizzed hot blankness. ‘Men … do things in war, sir. Renik,’ he managed.
Renik sobered and gave him a slow nod. ‘That they do, but we answer for those to the gods and our own consciences, not to each other.’ He brightened. ‘Go on, get back to bed, Major. Dusk, South Tower One. Don’t be late. I remember you had a problem with timekeeping back when you were a captain.’
‘Dusk, of course. I’ll be early,’ Crys added as Renik waved and walked away, his chuckles echoing back from the stone. Crys leant against the door as his heartbeat slowed down from its frantic, squirrel-fast hammering.
‘Devoted and promoted in the same hour,’ he muttered, shaking his head as he went back into the room. ‘Godsdamnit, I’m actually going to need to get some sleep now.’
‘How’s it looking?’ Crys asked when he reached the top of the tower ostentatiously early. Leaving Ash asleep in his bed – our bed – had been both difficult and weirdly wonderful. He hadn’t managed quite as much sleep as he’d needed, though. Ash hadn’t been lying when he’d said he had a thing for men in uniform – particularly newly promoted majors, as it turned out. Particularly when they weren’t actually in said uniform.
Crys touched the ranking symbol on his sleeve and over his heart. Though he came from a family of tailors and could’ve done a much better job, he’d let Ash sew them on for him, crooked, with huge looping stitches and a droplet of his blood from a needle-stuck finger.
It was perfect.
‘Most of the stump wall’s down, Major,’ a soldier said. ‘First Bastion’ll cut ’em to pieces when they do start to breach, but I reckon enough’ll make it that we’ll have some action.’
Crys watched, a light wind picking away at his hair beneath his helmet. From South Tower One he couldn’t see much past the bulk of First Bastion obstructing the view of the field, but he did have a clear line of sight to the stump wall, and it wasn’t pleasant looking. It was still up, though, and that was what mattered.
‘All right, what’s your name and who’re the officers I need to know?’
‘You’re the only major for South One and Two and East Tower as well, sir,’ the man said, as though Crys should have known this. He probably should have. ‘Whole length of the wall along the Gil. Normally you’d be in South Two to have sight up and down, but as we know they’re coming through up here, we were told to expect you up here. Of course, if you’d rather move to South Two …’
Crys recognised the hope in the voice and general demeanour of the man in front of him. ‘I’ll stay here, thanks. You still haven’t given me your name.’
‘Lieutenant Oiler, sir.’
‘All right Oiler, you don’t know me and I don’t know you. You probably think I’m some prick from a rich family who bought his commission and doesn’t know his arse from the hole in the ground he’s supposed to shit in, but let me tell you: I worked my way up through the ranks like any decent commoner and I came in with the West Rank, and fought two major battles in which thousands of my lads died. I’m not in the mood for pussies and cowards. Which one are you?’
‘Neither, sir,’ Oiler said with an alacrity that told Crys all he needed to know.
‘Who are my captains?’
‘Only Captain Lark, sir. Captain Norris was killed yesterday on the bridge when you arrived. And there’s Kennett, who’s just gone off watch.’
‘Kennett I know, and I’m sorry to hear about Norris,’ Crys said, having no idea who Norris was, ‘but he died a hero saving a lot of lives. Fetch me Lark, will you? I’ll be on the catapult level. When they do start clambering over the rubble they’ll be easy targets. I want us to make the most of that. And get some pitch torches dropped behind the stump wall as well, give us some light to kill them by.’
‘Aye, sir,’ Oiler said and vanished into the torchlit gloom.
‘It’s going to be bloody,’ Crys muttered to himself, gusting a sigh at the thought of Ash, a bed, some wine. He cleared his thoughts and focused on the coming of night, the coming of the Mireces. ‘But then these days, when is it ever anything else?’
GALTAS
Fourth moon, night, day forty of the siege
King Gate, eastern wall, Rilporin, Wheat Lands
‘Need any help?’
Galtas leapt to his feet and spun, drawing his sword as he did. It wasn’t one of the Personals, wasn’t anyone he recognised. His heart pounded; he’d been in this city far too fucking long. He was losing his nerve.
Just a couple more days.
‘Whoa, whoa, not a threat.’ The stranger laughed, his hands up away from his weapons. ‘Gods, you jumped like I was a bloody Mireces.’
Galtas slid his blade away and eyed the otherwise empty courtyard. The East Tower defenders were locked up tight at the top, keeping a watch for flankers trying for the King Gate.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked and the man’s smile faltered.
‘I’m manning the south wall in a few hours, but for now I’m just trying to work the stiffness out of my legs. I could barely fucking move when I woke up.’ He glanced past Galtas at the locked gate securing the mouth of a tunnel. ‘Where’s that go?’
‘All the way under the walls to the palace. Royal family’s emergency escape.’ The man whistled. ‘Look, I really have to get on,’ Galtas added, praying the idiot in front of him didn’t pay too much attention to the gate itself.
‘Oh, sure, sure. Mind if I walk with you? Name’s Ash, by the way. Like I said, I’ll be on the wall later, so anything to take my mind off that is perfect. I was here once before, you know, start of the year, with a Rank officer. Didn’t get much time for sightseeing then.’
‘Now isn’t time for it, either,’ Galtas said, frustrated, as he hurried through the livestock district. Lorca had sent word the Mireces were through the southern stump wall and massing for an assault on the gate; if he could get a message to them, his half-formed plan would fall into place.
‘Suppose not,’ Ash said, though he craned his neck and peered into every alley and shop front they passed, long legs easily keeping pace. ‘So how long have you served the king? Ah, sorry, didn’t catch your name.’
‘Didn’t give it,’ Galtas grunted. ‘Simon. Name’s Simon. And three years.’
‘Bet you’ve seen more action in the last weeks than all those three years, e
h? Same for me, for all of us. Mace called and we answered, but we didn’t expect … this. Few border skirmishes, few dead on each side, that we know, we understand, but this? This is like nothing I’ve ever seen.’
‘You’re a Wolf,’ Galtas said and the man nodded. ‘Only heard rumours what happened to you and the West. Hasn’t really been much time for swapping news, if you know what I mean.’ They reached the district gate and Galtas’s uniform got them through into the temple district.
‘Well, we won at the Blood Pass Valley, that much you must know,’ Ash said, his voice low as the sound of chanted prayers rose from the holy places around them, ‘but the fuckers had a second army – the one outside – and they used it to slaughter everyone in Watchtown, everyone in Pine Lock, everyone in Shingle. The people of Yew Cove survived by betraying us, tricking us down into their smugglers’ tunnels. Then the Mireces in charge of the townsfolk smashed the dam and did their best to drown us all. Those that made it out, well, let’s just say it’s personal now. We spent a couple of weeks resting, healing as best we could, then made our way here. We came as soon as we could, whatever you might have heard to the contrary.’
Galtas nodded. ‘Sounds bad.’
Ash snorted. ‘Understatement.’
‘And the last time you were here?’ he asked. Not that he cared, but the Wolf gave a little more credence to his disguise as a Personal.
Ash grinned and Galtas saw something else, something more than respect, light his face for a second. ‘Came in with a Ranker named Crys Tailorson. He’d seen what that traitorous bastard Rivil had done to his brother. He faked his own death and came here to warn Durdil and Rastoth. Turns out Rivil and his man Galtas were here, and we got in and out under their very noses.’
Galtas halted, and Ash stopped and turned as well. ‘Crys Tailorson was here?’
‘Aye, and he’s here again now. Promoted to major too, by Durdil himself no less.’
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