by T D Cloud
Khouri opened his mouth to tell him to cut it out, but Navidae kept him quiet by pressing another mouthful of honeyed bread past his lips. It was sweet and springy, tasting of home in a much different way than Navidae’s skin had the night before. “Anyway,” Navidae continued, making sure Khouri licked his fingers clean before pulling his hand away. Khouri colored a bit; he’d done that last night too. “I suppose thanks are in order regardless. You certainly made good time getting back here. I had anticipated it taking at least another week for your return. I suppose you do know how to move when you feel so inclined.”
Swallowing quickly, Khouri turned in Navidae’s lap to meet his eyes. “We came as quickly as we could,” he said, furrowing his brow. “Alacrita told us it was urgent. What’s happened this time? Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine, pet,” Navidae smiled, stroking his cheek with the back of his hand. “Infinitely better in fact, since you’re here with me now.”
Khouri leaned into his touch and held his hand to his cheek with a smile. “You’re being awfully sweet to me this morning,” he murmured, leaning in for a kiss flavored with the sticky honey still coating his lips.
“You’re already sweet, blackbird,” he answered, deepening the kiss despite the annoyed huff Sorin gave somewhere behind Khouri.
It was nice. All of it was nice. The attention, the sweet words, the fact that he was able to spend breakfast with Navidae after a night of sex… Khouri still broke the kiss before it could grow heated, resting his forehead against Navidae’s shoulder. It was so nice, but there were more important things going on than him wanting to be spoiled.
“What did you do to anger the Council?” Khouri asked, lifting his hand to cup Navidae’s cheek.
Red eyes narrowed every so slightly. “Anger them?
Whatever do you mean?” he deflected, leaning in for another kiss. Khouri gave in, savoring it for a moment because he was weak to those sorts of things from his lover, but Sorin’s heavy glare on his shoulders was enough to remind him of what he should be doing right now.
Khouri pulled way, gasping a little for breath. “That’s what the word on the street is,” he explained. Were things more serious than Navidae was letting on? Why was he being so cagey? “If things aren’t okay—”
“But they are, pet,” Navidae insisted, bouncing him a little on his knee. “Things are wonderful now that you’re back.”
“Then what are we doing back here?” Sorin interjected.
Navidae looked over Khouri’s shoulder, and Khouri settled his hands on Navidae’s shoulders to balance as his lover shifted in his chair, sitting himself a little taller. “If you missed Khouri, we could have visited. Instead, you tried to have him dragged back here against his will. Why would you do that if nothing was wrong?”
For the second time since he got back, Khouri noticed a change in Navidae. His lover looked studiously at the table, avoiding Sorin’s gaze as much as he could. Beneath him, Khouri could feel he had gone stiff.
“Does it matter?” he said breezily, running his fingers up and down Khouri’s spine as if counting every vertebrae. It tickled a little. This shirt wasn’t sheer, but Khouri’s skin still burned with the phantom feeling of Navidae’s lips doing the same only a few hours ago. “You were scheduled to come back in a few odd weeks anyway. Perhaps I missed your delightful wit, Sorin, and felt you less likely to indulge my appetite for your company.”
“Perhaps you lied to us,” Sorin snapped back. Navidae rolled his eyes and tsked, raking his fingers through Khouri’s hair. “We had a deal, Navidae. Or did you forget?” “I didn’t forget anything,” Navidae muttered. “Unlike you, my mind is still far from the reaches of senility.”
And now they were back to childish bickering. At least that made it easier to forget the pleasure dancing across his skin. “Navi,” Khouri chided, scowling at him. He hadn’t come home to deal with this of all things. “Answer him. If you insult him again, I’ll ignore you for the rest of the day.”
Navidae balked at that. Visibly balked. The sting from the last time hadn’t faded. Khouri smiled as Navidae pouted and muttered something under his breath about that not being fair. He leaned in to kiss Navidae’s cheek; Navidae relaxed in his chair and gave a roll of his eyes that was more fond than put upon.
Sorin didn’t sit patiently for it. “Well?” he prodded, tearing them away from their petting. “What’s going on?”
Navidae let out a huff and reached around Khouri for the plate still filled with food. “There’s just some political machinations underway,” Navidae said dismissively, prodding at Khouri’s lips with another piece of fruit. He stared at the morsel intently, and Khouri took it into his mouth when Navidae grew insistent. He must need the distraction. “Nothing to worry about, mind you. There’s a party coming up that demands my full attention, and Khouri’s attendance would help greatly in… in smoothing things over, as they say.”
“Khouri has more political clout than you now?” Sorin asked, beating Khouri to the punch as he finished chewing his latest mouthful. “That’s not a good reason for dragging us back here, Navidae.”
Navidae rolled his eyes. He just reached for more fruit and kept on talking. “Given Khouri’s presence at my side for the past fifty-odd years, some have grown accustomed to seeing him in the public eye. Presenting a…” He paused to ponder his words, smiling softly when Khouri took his sweet, honey- coated fingers into his mouth. A necessary thing, Khouri thought. Navidae was going to stuff him full if he kept up his current rate of feeding. “Presenting a sense of normalcy would go far in helping my cause. Thus, I sent for you. If you were made to believe it was something serious, then that is on your hands, not mine.”
Khouri opened his eyes fully at that, jerking his head away from Navidae’s fingers to glare at him. “Your messenger tried to kidnap me,” he said firmly, tugging on Navidae’s hair harshly so he wouldn’t dismiss it. “She said you told her to bring me back down by force if she had to.”
Navidae gave an innocent laugh, taking Khouri’s wrists in hand and pulling him easily from his hair. “I had hoped she would treat you kinder than that,” he said, “but you have to admit that when you get stubborn, not much can change your mind.”
Sorin sat with his cheek propped on his fist, his plate emptied and his eyes hooded. “You’re full of something, Navidae, and I can tell you right now it’s not sincerity.”
Khouri grimaced. He actually agreed with Sorin a bit on this, but still. “Sorin, what did I just say about being civil? I can just as easily ignore you as him,” he murmured, and it earned him a grumble for his trouble. Lovely. He turned his gaze towards Navidae, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “Politics down here are unpredictable on the best of days...”
“Yet you still find it odd that you have to attend this party,” Sorin answered, drumming his fingers on his crossed arms. “I don’t buy it.”
Navidae gave a long suffering sigh, resting his chin on Khouri’s shoulder. “And who is surprised by that?” he posed. “Of course you don’t believe me, but that’s more a you problem and a me problem. So, let’s change the subject before it causes more problems: you’re here anyway, so what does it matter now? Tell me, Sorin, how is your family? Khouri informed me that you took him to your sister’s. Are they well?”
Sorin blinked and lifted his head from his hand, sitting a bit straighter. He furrowed his brow, but Navidae was absolutely serious in his interest. Serious enough that Sorin couldn’t quite ignore it. Khouri stared at him imploringly to drop it, to set aside his frustration for the sake of peaceful conversation. He wanted them to get along. It was… It was so important that they got along. Sorin looked at him and chewed the inside of his cheek. Khouri stared at him hard, pleading with his eyes for him to just try.
Sorin let out a loud sigh. “Stubborn Drow,” he muttered, lifting his head back up so he could look at Navidae. “You’ll have to talk about it sometime.”
Navidae just smiled; Sorin
was left with nothing to do but answer. So, he cleared his throat and began to talk of Mastha and Jarrett and Heddi and Yula. Khouri watched, delighted, as Navidae asked more questions and carried on the conversation. It was fine, really, up until the moment Sorin decided to tell Navidae about his less than graceful moments in Mastha’s kitchen.
“He ate so much jam that he made himself sick,” Sorin said, pulling a bubble of laughter from Navidae. “Stuffed himself silly and then whined that his stomach hurt.”
Khouri colored messily. Navidae tugged on a lock of hair, kissing his flushed cheek when he tried to pull away. “That sounds like my blackbird,” he agreed. Khouri squawked from the indignity of it all. “Eating himself to the point of sickness. Why, I recall at a few galas where he did something similar. Drinking wine and eating fruit until he had to be carried home to sleep it off.”
“This was a mistake,” Khouri realized, fighting off Navidae’s kisses with furiously ineffective wiggles. “You’re both going to be embarrassing now.”
“Well, when you make it so easy…” Sorin led.
Navidae laughed. “Would you rather we go back to arguing?
Make up your mind, blackbird.”
Khouri whined pitifully. It didn’t inspire even an ounce of mercy. The two of them just grinned like demons, and Navidae locked his arms around Khouri’s middle to keep him from running away.
“I should tell you about our first proper day there. I went out and bought all sorts of expensive seafood for him to try, and Khouri was an absolute menace,” Sorin teased, eyes twinkling. “He thought they were bugs.”
“Yeah, well,” Khouri blustered, his face hot with embarrassment, “that’s what they looked like.”
Sorin just rolled his eyes, sharing an indulgent look with Navidae. “They were lobsters,” he said plainly. “Regular old rock lobsters.” Navidae laughed and leaned back in his chair, holding Khouri loosely but close. “And what happened next?” he asked.
Gods. If this was what he had to look forward to with them getting long, Khouri wasn’t sure what he’d do. He thought he’d like it, but now that he was living it? It was strange and weird, and more than anything, it was embarrassing. Sorin talked and Navidae answered, and Khouri sat between them, mortified: the new breakfast dynamic.
“I think I’d rather have you bickering,” Khouri muttered into his hands, the realization dawning on him all at once. Navidae just kissed his head and encouraged Sorin on, and Khouri slowly resigned himself to his fate.
So long as they were getting along he could handle it, he thought, reaching for some juice to soothe the warmth taking up permanent residence on his cheeks. So long as they got along…
Well, he’d put up with more than this to see that happen.
Chapter Nine
No matter how many times Navidae poured over the documents piled high on his desk, he still couldn’t quite stomach the thought that this absolute mess of a situation was somehow his fault.
Oh, he knew well enough why the Council might view it as such; he knew perfectly well that the actions he had taken were… not received well by those impacted economically during the fallout. But as Navidae threw down another handful of letters, as he leaned back in his chair and glared hotly up at the ceiling, he still refused to accept it.
Navidae sighed and rubbed at his tired eyes, mussing his already messy hair until he knew he’d be laughed at by Khouri the next time he saw him. It’d be nice to hear him laugh at least. To keep him laughing instead of worrying. Things were so… messy.
Messy, messy, messy.
He narrowed his eyes when a rattle sounded from the door. And now he had guests? Probably Khouri, he figured, hearing the door open. He hadn’t seen Khouri since he’d left him at breakfast. That was hours ago. Navidae smiled wryly. It was about time for him to come calling for the attention he wasn’t getting.
“Pet, I’m a little busy right now—” Navidae’s eyes widened when the guest pushed into the room, certainly not Khouri or a servant or literally anyone else who might willingly seek him out during work hours.
Hunter Tolgrath stood in the doorway to his study, big and scowling and as inviting as a jar of steedlings in terms of things Navidae currently wanted thrown into his workspace. The man pushed through the door and closed it behind him, glancing around as if he had every right to be here. Navidae stared at him expectantly. He tapped his pen on his desk when Sorin didn’t bother to do anything but gawk. Rolling his eyes, Navidae sighed. Whatever it was happening right now he was fairly certain he wanted no part of it.
“You are the last person I ever expected to visit me in here,” Navidae admitted dryly, only giving Sorin the barest glance before he went back to his letters. He didn’t want to read them again; when the alternative was entertaining Sorin, he knew that the torment he preferred was ideally one that wouldn’t talk back. “What do you want? Khouri’s off reading or something. I don’t have time to hold your hand until you find him.”
Sorin stomped his way up to his desk anyway, arms crossed like a challenge. “I’m not looking for Khouri,” he said, and Navidae reluctantly gave him the attention he wanted. A pronounced frown sat on the human’s mouth, his eyes like cold chips of ice. “I’m here to talk to you.”
Navidae made a show of stacking up his letters, setting the thick pile off to the side as slowly as he felt like doing it.
Sorin’s nose wrinkled. His eyes hardened. Eventually Navidae let the papers be, gesturing magnanimously for him to go on.
Rolling his eyes, Sorin shot him an unimpressed look. “Cut the bullshit and give me a straight answer already. Why are we here? Why did you call us back? Why did Alacrita warn us that the Duskriven is full of gossip involving you and the Council?”
“That’s a lot of questions,” Navidae muttered. He picked up his pen and scrawled a note to himself to dock Alacrita’s pay. She hardly deserved such a hefty sum if she so willingly ran her mouth while working. “Are you certain that’s all you wish to know? You’ve no pressing need to hear the details of my dinner plans too?”
The glower that earned him made up for a solid third of the stress this day had dealt him already. “Are you really going to keep brushing it off?” the human asked, his voice thin, his tone on the verge of breaking completely. “Just tell me the damn truth, Navidae.”
He rubbed at his temples, fending off a headache that had been building behind his eyes ever since this debacle began. This was not what Navidae had wanted to deal with today. “You really want to know?” he asked silkily. “It’s not like you’d understand anyway. You're just a human interloper, worming your way into our affairs. I’ve angered the Council, Hunter. I sent for you because I’m being proactive.”
“Proactive about what?”
Gods, what a simpleton he was, not understanding.
Instead of answering right away, Navidae decided that the best way to explain was by letting Sorin do all of the work for him. He held up a finger and took pleasure from the fact that Sorin growled. Digging through the mess on his desk, he located and yanked out the document he’d been steadfastly ignoring all day. “If you really want to know,” Navidae said with a tone that dripped faux mirth. He brandished the letter at Sorin until he took it in hand. “See for yourself whether or not my actions are justifiable.”
Sorin flicked the page to stiffen it, squinting as he scanned the contents. It only took a moment for him to glare over to top of the letter. “I can’t read Drow, genius,” he said, tossing the letter back onto the desk. “You’ll have to summarize it, unless that’s too much work for someone as busy as you.”
“Simpleton,” Navidae muttered, taking back the page with more nonchalance than he truly felt. “You muddle your way into our affairs and you don’t even bother learning the language? I suppose we really must make accommodations for one as long in the tooth as you lest nothing get done at all.”
“Just read the damn letter.”
Sweat prickled the back of Navidae’s neck as he look
ed over the familiar words for what had to be the dozenth time. Even scanning it with his eyes he could tell that it wouldn’t be easier to stomach this time around either. He cleared his throat regardless, working out how best to translate it so that even someone like Sorin could understand the magnitude of it all.
“To the Lord Navidae Marrowick, Purveyor of the Western Dusklands, Overseer of the—”
Sorin cut in with an impatient wave of his hand, and Navidae raised a brow. “Skip that nonsense,” the human ordered. “I don’t need to hear your title for the fifth time today.”
Who was going around spouting off Navidae’s full title to him? Hyperbole, probably. “Feeling a little unimportant, are you? Very well.” He rolled his eyes and skipped ahead. “In regards to certain claims and allegations brought forth by the Lady Lichenith and supported by an assortment of Houses of Reputable Standing, The High Council—recipients of Inden and all her Malicious Grace—follow our duty to inform you that the House of Marrowick is hereby—and until further notice and following subsequent investigations—placed under probation.”
Navidae flicked his eyes over the top of the paper, licking his lips before continuing.
“Based on the allegations in question and the standing of the one bringing them to our most impartial attention,” he went on, unable to keep his voice from souring at the thought of any of this being fair, “the nature of investigation and eventual punishment shall be given at the discretion of the venerable Lady Lichenith in hopes that such a duty might assuage her and her assets of any damages caused by the actions which call us forth to make such a decree known.”
There was a pause. Navidae summoned up the last of his will power, reading off the last few sentences left on the page before it all devolved into a thick paragraph of titles and roles and honorifics.
“As of the sending of this letter, the roles and duties of the Marrowick House are suspended; await further correspondence and prepare a record of assets should acquisition be deemed just.”