by Megan Derr
He had no good reason for pulling it out, when normally he always kept it locked up when he was sailing, but he always felt better seeing it, especially after a battle.
"It's beautiful," Ailill murmured from over his shoulder, making Kin tense and almost snarl in annoyance that Ailill had so easily snuck up on him. But Raiden always chided him for being too distracted whenever he had the dagger out. "That looks Verde-made. May I?"
Kin reluctantly handed the dagger over, not willing to be rude to Ailill though most other people he would have told no. "It was a gift when I was a child."
"Intriguing," Ailill said. "I know the maker by the markings here," he pointed to the bottom of the dagger where marks that made no sense to Kin were inscribed. "They do work for the best noble houses in the country and all the royal work. Whoever gave this to you is royalty or nobility, but you must know that, of course."
"I don't know, actually," Kin admitted. "The circumstances were … unusual." He took the dagger back and wrapped it up, then stowed it again. "Hopefully the rest of our voyage will be uneventful. We should arrive in Kundou in another four days unless we run afoul of mermaids or a storm, of course."
Ailill smirked at him. "Not entirely uneventful, I hope."
Kin looked at him in surprise, then laughed. "No, your grace, not entirely, if you are still interested."
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Most aren't," Kin said. He was fortunate that outside of Kundou, most people paid him little mind, regarding him as an albino blessed or cursed to be holy white from head to toe and never realizing that his blue-gray eyes meant he was not albino.
People in the cities of Kundou largely ignored him, as they were more secluded than the rest of the islands from the terrors of the mermaids. Those in the villages and towns wanted nothing to do with him, having a strong suspicion as to what he was and why it was a bad idea to be close to him when there was immediate access to the sea.
Those few persons outside his crew who saw him fight generally chose not to continue relations; nobody wanted to be close to a savage.
Ailill only laughed and stepped in close, then wrapped one arm around Kin's neck and dragged him in for a kiss that picked up right where they had left off before. Kin groaned and raked his nails lightly down Ailill's back, feeling his warm skin through the fabric of his fine lawn shirt, wondering where his fancy jacket had gone.
"You taste like the sea," Ailill said, unwinding his arm from around Kin's neck to run both down Kin's chest, then under his tunic, teasing along his skin. When he began to pull on the tunic, Kin obediently raised his arms so Ailill could pull both his tunics off, completely uncaring when Ailill threw them carelessly aside. Ailill put his mouth where his hands had been, and Kin ceased to care about anything else at all. Ailill chuckled softly before he closed his mouth over one of Kin's nipples, teeth tugging on the silver ring that pierced it.
Kin drew a sharp breath at the sensation, pleased that Ailill had gone straight for the kill. He slid his own hands along Ailill's body. "We need to get rid of more clothing, I think."
Ailill laughed and teased Kin's other nipple briefly before finally drawing back and stripping off his own shirt, then discarding his pants and boots. He was beautiful naked, lean and long and fit, cock already hard and red as he lazily fisted it and stroked. "Let's see what you can do with all that energy when you're in a fuck and not a fight."
"Gladly," Kin said with a laugh and discarded his own remaining clothes before shoving Ailill back toward his bunk. It was small, too small for them to be terribly comfortable, but it was sufficient for two men not used to much in the way of comfort.
"You made a very handsome cat," Kin said, pushing him down on the bed and settling between his legs, bending to put his teeth and tongue to Ailill's skin, sun-kissed and warm, scarred and marked in ways highly unusual for a noble. But if Ailill were usual, Kin wouldn't want to have anything to do with him.
A hand raked through his hair, then Ailill tugged him up for another kiss, taking his mouth like a man starved. His other hand tugged on Kin's nipple rings, and he chuckled as Kin swore. "I don't think I've seen a professional whore who wore such things as well as you do."
Kin snorted in amusement and nipped at his jaw, a hint of fang in his bite. He ground down with his hips, driving their cocks together, making Ailill thrust up in time with his movements. Reaching down, he fisted Ailill's cock, stroking him briefly before he drew away enough to fetch the night oil shoved beneath his pillow for the rare evenings he was left in peace.
Uncorking it, he stroked Ailill again, then moved to cup and fondle his sac before slipping behind to prepare him. Ailill moved into his touch, spread his legs wider, his pale hair spread across Kin's pillow, green eyes brilliant and hazed with lust.
It didn't take long to ready him, and within moments Kin was thrusting inside him, Ailill's legs over his shoulders, a sheen of sweat on his skin as he scrabbled for purchase before finally just grabbing on to Kin's shoulders, nails biting into his skin. His moans and pleas, spoken with that smooth, lilting Verden accent, drove Kin on, and he shoved away every ache and pain in favor of fucking Ailill through the bed.
There was nothing quite like the oblivion brought on by a good fuck. Kin muffled his cry in Ailill's mouth, thrusting one last time before he came, fisting Ailill's cock and stroking him hard and fast, until he came hot and sticky between them.
Ailill gave a breathless laugh as Kin collapsed half beside, half on top of him, lazily running a hand over his sweaty skin. "Not bad, dragon child. Not bad at all."
Kin snorted in amusement and nipped at his lips. "I have to go check on my crew."
"By all means," Ailill said, shifting a bit so Kin could more easily climb out of the bunk. "Shall I retire to my quarters?"
"Only if you wish," Kin replied, waving a hand dismissively. He retrieved his clothes and pulled them on, then retied his sash, winding it twice around his hips before tying it with a simple one-dragon knot. He quirked a brow at the look Ailill was giving him. "What?"
Ailill shook his head. "Kundou sashes always fascinated me; it's like a language only Kundou understands, between the colors, the patterns, the knots, the charms and all you occasionally attach to them. I know there are nuances in all of it, but no one has ever really explained it all to me."
Kin smirked. "It's not nearly as complicated as everyone outside Kundou has clearly made it. All mine tells anyone is that I am a man of modest means with a taste for bold colors and who favors simple knots. Only the wealthy or exceptionally bored use complicated knots."
"I suspect it says a great deal more than that," Ailill said with a smile. "Go check on your men." He rolled out of bed and started to clean up as Kin departed.
Outside, the ship was quiet, the only light from the moon and the odd bright spark of orange from the cigarillos some of the men were smoking. Their pungent odor mingled with the smell of the sea, creating a unique scent that Kin would always associate with sailing in the dead of night.
Samé approached him, nodding in greeting. "Captain."
"Mr. Samé," Kin replied. "How fares the night?"
"Fares well, now, Captain," Samé replied. "If this wind holds, we'll make port half a day early."
Kin loosed his senses a bit, feeling the sea and the wind, drawing a deep breath and letting it out on a soft sigh. "I felt a storm earlier, but it must have departed with the mermaids who probably initially called it. How many did we kill?"
"Best estimate, thirty-seven, but that does not include those you killed, Captain."
"They're increasing their numbers," Kin replied, mouth tightening.
Samé started to speak, but hesitated. Kin glared at him, and Samé finally said, "They're determined to kill you, Captain. If we keep killing them in the numbers we are, then they're going to get bolder about stealing more women."
"I know," Kin said quietly. The thought of quitting made him sick, but he had endangered people far too many times for his own selfish
reasons. But he couldn't quit. He would die before he land-locked himself.
And somewhere, someday, Koori would need passage—if he was still alive. If he still remembered a promise made to him by a stupid, smitten little boy. Did he remember? Did he care? Or was Kin the only fool clinging to a childhood promise?
"The crew is well?" he finally asked, breaking the lengthy silence.
"Aye, Captain," Samé replied. "I authorized an extra ration of beer all around."
Kin smiled and clapped him on the book. "Good. Fetch me at once should the need arise. Go ahead and let Mr. Dai take over the watch. Get some rest, Mr. Samé."
Nodding, Samé departed again, and Kin returned to his quarters. Ailill was once more at the table, drinking wine and looking over a book Kin had seen him with before—a journal of some sort. Kin nodded to him and poured himself a fresh cup of wine, then carried it to his desk to record the night's events before he finally went to sleep.
Chapter Three: Duty
Kyo smiled politely at the man across the table, concentrating on his beautiful, pale red-orange hair so that he did not pay his smug face too much attention and wind up throwing something at it. He tossed his hair, ostensibly to get it out of his way, but mostly to remind the man of what he would never have no matter how much he flirted and bragged.
Honestly, royal dinners were tiresome enough without foreign dignitaries to make them completely unbearable. He murmured some neutral reply and shifted his attention to the other visiting noble from Pozhar. Lord Nikolai Krasny, Duke of Alkaev, cousin and Advisor to his majesty Tsar Zarya IX, arrived in Kundou to negotiate changes to the trade agreement between their two countries.
While his companion was only repulsive, Krasny was cold, but polite. Kyo had met him before when he had visited just over thirteen years ago. He'd been fourteen, and Krasny twenty-eight. Kyo remembered thinking, back then, that Krasny was beautiful.
Older and far more aware than he had been as a child, he realized that Krasny was not merely beautiful—he was breathtaking. His hair was a deep red, almost the color of blood, but with a hint of lighter colors that brought Kyo's mind back to flames. His eyes were gold, like so many from Pozhar, but they were frozen, sharp. They said the people of Pozhar possessed hearts and souls of fire, but if that was true, Krasny's fires had gone out. He was beautiful, but it was the hard, cold beauty of a temple: distant and untouchable.
Not that he wanted to touch himself. No, however foolish he was, there was only one person Kyo wanted to touch. Kyo signaled a servant to refill his wine and made polite conversation with the foreign guests, but most of his mind was lost to memory.
Of when he and Kinni had met on that long ago day. He had returned to the palace to find Umiko crying in her room, her face bruised. Kyo had hated that returning had clearly been the correct decision. He'd been lashed for his vanishing act, the first of what would be many lashings. His father loved to remind him that being royalty did not mean he was free of punishment.
Kyo had once asked him why that rule applied to him, but not to his brother. He had not asked a second time.
He smiled politely and called for more sweets, then let his mind drift again, thinking of the second time he'd seen Kinni. Kyo had slipped down to the docks to attend another matter that day, hoping that Taka would not find him for a couple of hours, when he'd seen it: the Kumiko.
No matter the years that passed, he still remembered that moment with perfect clarity. Seeing that name on the prow of the ship—and then seeing the man who stepped off it, skin and hair as white as bone, eyes nearly as pale, and dressed in deep blue with a bright green sash. There had been no mistaking Kinni, who had indeed become a captain like he'd vowed.
It had taken every bit of strength Kyo possessed not to run to him, present his medallion, and see if his captain remembered a stupid little boy who had thought running away might fix his life. He'd walked away, hating that he must once again return to the place and life he despised. One day, though …
Except that day would never come. The Kumiko and her handsome captain would never take him where he wanted to go, take him along to find the ultimate treasure.
No, if all went according to plan, Kinni would take him to his death.
Kyo sipped his wine and smiled blandly, shoving his thoughts aside to focus on political maneuvering. When the interminable dinner at last ended, he made quick work of his farewells and slipped away, wandering the halls of the palace until he wound up at the shark pool.
The pool was enormous, as wide and long as the grand ballroom and protected by a ceiling of glass set in stone. The floor surrounding it was decorated with colorful tiles depicting dozens of scenes: sailing ships, the Dragons themselves writhing and playing in the sky and sea, the Holy Temple of the Three Storms, the crowning of the first king—on and on the images went. The pool was also deep, too deep for any normal person to swim to the bottom and back up before running out of breath. Even should someone be crazy enough to try, he would also have to face the numerous sharks that filled the pool.
Magic alone kept the dozens of types of sharks from doing anything, but swim peacefully. They accessed the pool by way of a tunnel all the way at the bottom of the pool, drawn to it by the same magic that kept them calm. Kyo looked over his shoulder, but it was unlikely anyone other than Taka would seek him there. Turning back, he watched the sharks swimming round and round. He slowly pulled out the pins holding his elaborate sash in place and removed it, folding the pins in it for safekeeping. His robes gaped open, and Kyo shrugged out of them. Folding them neatly, he set all the clothes well out of the way then strode back to the edge of the pool. His hair fell around him, down to mid-thigh, decorated with beads of esmeralda, saphir, and pearl; it was heavy, far too heavy to swim easily, but he was a prince, and the magic that flowed in his veins made it a non-issue.
Kyo dove smoothly into the water, relishing the cold as he hit it, the way it got colder the deeper he went. Magic thrummed in his blood, altering his body in small ways, allowing him to swim and breathe as easily as the deadly creatures around him.
Creatures that largely ignored him, and those that did not came up only to brush against him in friendly fashion. Kyo had always enjoyed swimming with the sharks. No one else bothered him there, and they were far more interesting than the sharks that inhabited the palace proper. Swimming with them was also a good way to strengthen his magic.
He kept swimming, all the way to the bottom, then headed through the dark tunnel and kept swimming past the various sharks going in and out until darkness finally gave way to light once more.
He began to swim up, moving closer and closer until he finally broke the surface. The magic-induced gills faded off after a few seconds, and he breathed normally as he kept swimming. Kyo headed slowly toward the shore, already tired from the effort he'd exerted, but vehemently against going back inside any time soon.
Reaching the shore of the small, secret beach only accessible by either swimming up as he had, or scaling down the cliffs that surrounded most of the palace, he collapsed in the sand and stared up at the sky.
If the information Raiden had given him was correct, he had three months to live. They would stop over in Pozhar for additional supplies, and after that … There would be no more people beyond those aboard the Kumiko. There would be no more dull dinners, no more lashings, no more being reminded he was not what his parents wanted him to be.
No more sneaking off to town with Taka at his side. No more sneaking off alone to watch the Kumiko and her captain whenever the ship was in port. No chance he would ever be able to find out if Kinni remembered him, if Kinni cared about the promise he'd made as a boy.
No chance of going off to find the ultimate treasure, secretly hoping that Kinni would decide—
Three months to live. Kyo drew a breath and let it out slowly, refusing to let any emotion rise up. He could do it, he would do it, if only because it meant he would die doing things his way, and there would be no more sacrifices.
A hundred years after he died, no prince would be called into his father's study and be told that his sole reason for existing was to serve as sacrifice.
Kyo could not wait for the day that his father realized he had run away and taken the Eye of the Storm with him. His mouth curved in a smirk, thinking about it. He was going to die, but he would not be his father's pawn. He vowed it, in the names of the Dragons of the Three Storms. It was his life, and he would lose it how he chose.
He hoped that Taka would forgive him, eventually, though he supposed it little mattered since he would be dead, and dying the way he was guaranteed there would be no reincarnation. A sacrifice was a sacrifice, and no piece remained when it was over.
Would anyone besides Taka and Umiko miss him? Kyo dismissed the thought as pointless, but thoughts of Kinni rose up in his mind anyway. Wistful thoughts, stupid thoughts, painful thoughts. He reached up to touch the pendant around his neck. He had to replace the chain every few years, as never removing the necklace had its hazards, but the pendant itself remained exactly as it had that long ago day: bright silver and gleaming, displaying a lighthouse with beams of light fanning out.
He wondered if Kinni had already found his ultimate treasure, and the thought hurt. Kinni was not a foolish, spoiled prince caged by a royal life. He was free to roam, had his own ship even—the world and all the treasure in it were his. Why would he remember Koori?
Kyo scrubbed at his face and tried to banish his idiotic thoughts. He needed to focus on important matters. Such as how, precisely, he was going to steal the Eye of the Storm from Taiheiyou. The only turn of luck he'd had in his plotting was that their father had decided Taiheiyou should begin growing accustomed to wearing the stone that was the heart of their power. The dragon magic might flow through royal blood, but the magic only worked if they possessed the Eye.