by Sean Michael
Lem dropped the apple into his palm. “You should have more then.”
Jules pressed the partially eaten apple back into Lem’s hand. “You will enjoy it.”
“If you’ll have the rest of this one, I will share another with you,” Lem suggested.
“You swear?”
“I promise.”
Jules knew Lem would rather die than break an oath. So he took the apple, and the memory of his mother’s eyes seemed to fill him. Alyssa, she had been called, and she had been the most beautiful in, not only the land, but on the earth.
Lem watched him carefully as he took another bite. He wasn’t sure what he was meant to do, what was best. Most proper. Most right. He only knew it felt… so different, eating as Lem watched. It made him more aware of every movement he made.
When he’d finished eating, Lem went to get another fruit, looking very pleased. Jules caught himself looking, even admiring his guard. Lem was the most fit guard he’d ever seen—more so even than Mabon—defined muscles everywhere, but most especially across the chest and along the belly.
How odd. He rarely looked at others. His books were much more interesting than the world and those who populated it.
Lem caught him staring and smiled. “I’ll get you some water, my prince. To wash down the apple.”
“Thank you.” He needed to go inside, settle with a good book, and return to his life. These outings were rousing strange feelings inside him. It was time to hide away once more.
Lem cupped his big hands in the water from the fountain, holding the makeshift bowl to Jules’ lips. He wrapped his hands beneath Lem’s, head dipping down so he could sip. Lem made a soft noise, hands still as stones. Jules lapped at the water, humming deep in his chest.
“My prince.” His name rumbled in Lem’s deep voice.
“Thank you.” He licked again, tongue flicking at Lem’s skin. The taste of it seemed to explode across his tongue, salty and sharp, like nothing he’d ever had before and certainly even better than the refreshing water. Jules felt utterly confused, completely overwhelmed, his palms suddenly burning. “I should... I shouldn’t have licked you.”
“You may do anything you wish, my prince.” Lem’s voice had a new note in it.
Anything he wished. What a wonderful, wild concept. Jules wasn’t sure he believed such a thing was possible.
“What do you wish to do next?” Lem asked.
“I... I don’t know. I don’t know, Lem.”
“Maybe we could walk around your gardens. They are very beautiful.”
“If you believe it’s safe. They came for me, you know.” From the air, from the door. He knew no one was supposed to be able to see him here, but they had come, hadn’t they?
“I know. I will not let them take you if they come back for you.” Lem’s words were fierce, and his chest puffed up.
Jules nodded, but he didn’t believe it. Mabon had not been able to defeat the Graithen. It had only been his dark curse that had kept him from being taken, though it had not managed to keep Mabon from death.
Lem stood and offered his arm. Jules reached up, took it, a jolt of electricity shooting through him. Lem took a quick breath and turned to look at him, surprise and amazement in the dark grey eyes.
Jules was stricken. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I won’t burn you.”
“No, of course you won’t.” Lem patted his hand and began to walk. So confident. So sure. Lem was so sure.
Jules wondered at such confidence. What would it feel like not to worry about everything he did?
They walked slowly, the sunshine warming his skin. Jules leaned against Lem, just the littlest bit. The solid body stayed steady, Lem guiding him along the paths. The rhythm of walking eased him, the act a meditation. It was nice, too, that he wasn’t alone. Lem was quiet, but his presence was unmistakable.
Jules’ mind wandered, floating off to his books, the worlds he’d visited in them, like a bee bumbled along from flower to flower.
Lem’s words broke into his reverie. “Are you still with me, my prince?”
“What?” Jules blinked several times. “Yes. Yes, of course.”
“You seemed a million miles away. Can you do that? Are you a distance seer?” Lem asked.
“I’m nothing special.”
Lem’s reply was immediate, not a moment’s hesitation in it. “Don’t say that, my prince.”
“Oh, you’ll learn. It’s true. The others are the heirs. I’m the runt.” The one his father didn’t want. He glanced at the palm of one hand. It was probably because of the marks.
“Shh. Shh.” Lem shook his head, hand reaching for the one he had wrapped around Lem’s arm and squeezing tight.
How very odd. Mabon had loved him, but had known that he was... just the hidden prince. Lem seemed bound to uplifting him, seeing him as more than he was.
Lem walked them around the grounds for a long time, longer than Jules would have thought he had the energy for, before leading him back to his rooms. Once there, Jules found himself to be utterly exhausted, worn to the bone.
“Can I order you something special for evening meal, my prince?”
Lem asked him the same thing every night, but he always said no. He didn’t eat. Not anymore. Not since Mabon had been taken in his defence.
At least, not until Lem brought him apples.
“No, thank you.” Jules was tired, and his brain said he needed to read.
“Are you sure? You could have anything you wanted.”
“I want...” Oh, he didn’t know what he wanted. He really wasn’t hungry.
“Cocoa pudding?” Lem asked softly
“With cherries?” He did love cherries. And they were especially good with cocoa.
“Yes, my prince, you shall have cherries.”
Lem went to the door and opened it, speaking to the royal guard who stood there. Then his bodyguard came back. “It will be here soon,” Lem promised.
Jules was already curled in his blankets, but he lifted his head to say thank you. Lem was so good to him, the least he could was be polite and offer words of appreciation.
“What do you do all day long in your bed, my prince?” Lem asked.
“Read. Do you like to read?” Jules had loved reading out loud to Mabon. Books were wonderful, but even more when they were shared.
“I cannot read, my prince. It is not necessary for my kind to read.”
“Oh.” Jules supposed he should have known that. After all, Mabon hadn’t been able to read.
“What do you read?” Lem asked.
“I like adventure stories, stories of pirates, of bandits, of great heroes, and magicians.” He met Lem’s gaze, made the offer he’d only ever made to Mabon before. “Would you like me to read to you?”
“I would be so honored, my prince.”
“I’m about to start a new book. It’s called ‘The Song of the Sorcerer.’” Jules patted the bedding, encouraging Lem to sit with him.
Lem did, sitting stiffly at attention, like a proper bodyguard.
Jules usually sat in Mabon’s lap, but he didn’t know Lem yet, so instead he curled close to one side and opened the book. Lem was always still and silent, but Jules thought maybe there was an edge of anticipation in Lem’s stillness now.
“The greatest of magicks often come as a shock, as a surprise, and that is where the story of Alim begins—with a great shock.”
Lem leaned a little toward him as he began the story, clearly eager to hear each word.
By the time the knock came to the door, Lem was totally absorbed in Jules’ reading and actually started at the sound.
“Oh! That should be your pudding.” Lem jumped up and went to the door.
“Our pudding,” he called out. Right? That was correct?
Lem bent his head in a bow. “As you wish, my prince.”
“I wish.” Frankly, he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to stop reading to eat. He certainly wasn’t going to do it on his own. Lem’s smile was warm a
nd happy, so that was obviously the right answer.
Lem checked the door, then opened it, taking the tray of food from the server and setting it on the little stand by the door. Then Lem closed and locked the door before carefully examining each item on the tray. Clearly satisfied, Lem then tasted every dish, still standing by the door.
It was at least a minute later before Lem nodded and finally brought the tray to him. “It is safe.”
“Is it yummy?” Jules might have a taste if it was.
“It is,” Lem admitted, picking up the spoon. “Would you like me to feed you?”
That was increasingly familiar, comforting, and Jules opened up.
Lem surprised him by grabbing one of the cherries with his fingers and popping it into Jules’ mouth. It was tart and sweet and bright. Yum. Jules moaned and bit down, juice filling his lips. Lem drew in a breath and offered him a second cherry. Jules ate it eagerly, suddenly hungry, ravenous.
Lem began to feed him the pudding, offering him spoonful after spoonful, the chocolate rich, creamy, and smooth. Every now and then, another cherry would be held against his lips, and Jules soon found himself in Lem’s lap, eager for each bite.
“How could you have not eaten for so long, my prince? You are so sensual with the food.”
“I was too sad to eat.” Mabon was dead, and he hadn’t deserved food.
“I hope you’re never that sad again.”
“Me, too.” He wasn’t sure if he could survive that again.
Lem suddenly put down the spoon and wrapped him in a tight hug.
Oh. Oh. Jules took a deep, deep breath.
“I will do anything I can to make you happy, my prince.”
Jules settled in, reminding himself that this was Lem’s job, his position in life.
“Will you eat anymore?” Lem asked, not moving him from his position cuddled in against the broad chest.
“No. No, but thank you. It was so good.”
“I’m glad you ate. I was beginning to worry.”
Jules’ eyelids got heavy, and he leaned harder. Lem simply held him, and he was warm and cozy. And maybe even happy. Maybe. He’d think about that later.
Chapter Four
Prince Jules was eating regularly now, and Lem thought his color was better, too. It made him breathe a little easier, that his prince was coming back to life. That Lem didn’t have to force Jules to eat and drink and spend time in the sun.
He was beginning to understand Jules’ fascination with his books, too. Every day, Jules read to him from a book, and Lem had to admit, the stories were fascinating, intriguing. His main worry was that, in listening to Jules’ stories, which almost always involved Jules sitting curled in his lap, he wasn’t paying enough attention to their surroundings.
If someone came for his charge, would he react as quickly as he should? Perhaps he was becoming lazy, complacent. It was possible.
He did hear the servant coming to the door with Jules’ breakfast and was there to open it before the knock even came. His every sense was on high alert, his nostrils flaring.
The servant was the usual one, as were the guards who stood outside the room. Good. Good. Everything was as it should be. He gave them all nods and waited for them to return the gesture before closing the door and placing the bar back across it.
Lem then tasted, smelled, assured himself that the food was safe for Jules.
Satisfied, he took the tray to Jules’ nest of a bed. “Your breakfast, my prince.”
Jules shook his head, though. “You can eat it, Lem. My belly hurts.”
He frowned, immediately worried. “Hurts how?” Had someone managed to poison his prince despite the care he took?
“I just don’t want any. You can have it.”
“No, you said your belly hurts.” That was different from not wanting any, right? Lem put the food aside and began pulling at Jules’ clothes. He needed to see his prince’s belly.
“It does. What are you doing?”
“Checking your belly.”
Jules’ belly was slender and beautiful and unmarred by any bruises or other marks. Lem began to press gently along Jules’ abdomen.
“Tell me if anything hurts.”
The lean belly was a touch hard, distended. Ah. Gas. This was something he could help with and that was not dangerous.
“We should walk around the courtyard. It will help.”
“Do you think so?”
The trust in Jules’ question honored him.
“Yes, my prince. I believe it will help you release the gas you’re holding inside.”
“Okay.” His prince sighed and stood, leaving the bed of his own free will.
It pleased Lem very much. “Very good, Jul— my prince.”
“You may call me Jules. Mabon did.”
“Are you sure? It’s very informal.” Of course, what he felt toward his prince was not at all formal.
“I’m not the most formal of my siblings. That would be my oldest sister, Princess Herat.”
Lem nodded. He was not allowed to even speak the name of the other royal heirs, even if he was by himself.
“She’s kind of a grouch, and she’s a little stinky.”
Lem found himself laughing, and he clapped a hand across his mouth. “I’m sorry, Your Highness.”
“I know, but it’s true. My brother Keen, on the other hand, he’s very nice, very jolly.”
“Do you usually spend a lot of time with the other royals?” For as long as Lem had been here, Jules had not left his rooms except to walk around the courtyard and grounds with him. And not one person had come to visit Jules, not to see if he was well, nor to simply visit.
“Goodness no. How horrific would that be? This is my place, down here. Alone.”
“But you must get lonely, Jules?” Lem did not want his prince to be lonely.
Jules gave him a surprised look. “I have my books and my guardian.”
It pleased Lem to be included in the things Jules had. “You have lived for a couple hundred years, though. Have you never wished to have someone special, to do things other than read?”
“No.” Jules sounded very sure. “That is for other dragons, not me.”
Lem shook his head. His kind were made to be guardians. There was nothing else for him. But the royals, they could do anything. The royals could move freely, could demand any tithe. “Would you never like to see the places you read about?”
“No. I’m not worthy to go. I’m just happy in my spot.”
“Not worthy...” Lem stopped and went to his knees in front of Jules. “You are the most worthy, my prince.”
“No. I’m marked. See?” Jules held out his hands, dark, oddly shaped marks exposed on both palms.
Lem reached for them, touched very gently. There was almost a buzz, a tingle, though he was sure he must be imagining it.
“I won’t burn you,” Jules told him. “I promise you.”
“No, you could not.” Lem truly believed it. He could also feel the power in Jules’ hands, though. “These are not marks of shame. They are true power.”
“The enemy wants them.”
“They must know what they mean. You are important, Jules. This proves it.” Lem knew it, in his very scales. “We must learn why they want you.”
“I don’t care. I don’t want to know.”
“But it would be good to know why they want you. The more information we have, the better I can protect you.” His Master had taught him that.
His charge shook his head, sighed, and Lem wrapped Jules in another hug, holding on.
He would find out what the marks meant. He would protect Jules. It was his job, his position. His place. His need.
Lem stroke Jules’ heavy pale hair, petting him. He would protect his prince, and he would convince Jules that he was important. A huge welling of purpose flooded him, centered him.
He smiled, letting his devotion and fierceness show. “I will keep you safe, and the world will be the better for it.”
“Whatever makes you happy, Lem.”
“You are the one who should be happy.” He was only a guardian. His happiness had no bearing on anything.
“I am, when I read to you.”
“Is that the only time?” That didn’t seem right.
“Mostly, yes. I love the escape, which I know is not right. Mabon told me I shouldn’t be a selfish man, to wish to escape a perfect life.”
“Not a perfect life.” Lem knew that his prince had suffered a tragedy. His prince wasn’t happy. How was that perfect? “Especially if you are unhappy.” He wanted desperately to be able to make Jules happy.
Jules offered him the barest smile. “You’re good to me.”
“I pray you will always believe so.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Jules offered him another grin, this one stronger, more sure.
He smiled back, the curve of Jules’ lips infectious. He surprised himself with the urge to dip his head, touch Jules’ lips with his. He took a step back, his nostrils flaring, shocked at himself.
“Lem? Lem, did I burn you? Are you well?” Jules scrambled away from him.
“No, you didn’t hurt me!” He went after Jules, refusing to let his prince think he had been injured.
“Are you well? Shall I call for help?”
“No, no, I’m fine. I swear it.” He took hold of Jules’ hands, holding them both in his. “You see?”
“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t harm you. I didn’t mean to harm them.”
“You didn’t harm me, my prince. You did nothing. It was me.” And perhaps he should have told someone he had these feelings for his prince, perhaps he should recuse himself. But he was selfish and could not.
“You?” Oh, those huge eyes stared at him, gleaming, the color of emeralds.
“Me.” Lem hung his head. “I almost kissed you.” Lem would normally have never admitted to it, but Jules needed to know it wasn’t his fault.
“Oh. I’m not in line to be mated.” Jules patted his hand.
“I have rutted. It’s compulsory.” They were trained to know what it was, to understand the wiles that could be used against them, tested with the most desirable of female dragons. Lem had far preferred the males who’d tested him, who’d rutted with him. What he wanted to do to Jules was... softer. Not simply rutting. “But I’ve never kissed anyone.”