by R. Cooper
Taji’s voice was raspy. “You’re saying deep down, people are fully aware a shehzha still has a brain, and that how they may or may not fuck doesn’t really mean anything?” Taji frowned, distracted for one moment. “Do biology and culture go hand in hand everywhere? Even for those before the Sha?”
“Hand in hand?” If Trenne had trouble with that particular human expression, he seemed to figure it out. “It is their society, their interpretation. I do not know the hurat beliefs. Only these. We might know not all shehzha are that wild, but this is what is done.”
“Yes.” Taji agreed with that point, but… “In the history of the universe, there are always exceptions to cultural rules.”
“And I am sure there are always consequences,” Trenne said softly.
“You worried about me?” Taji tried to dismiss that in a light tone, but his voice shook. “It’s certainly a weak yet powerful position I’ve found myself in. If they respect me and fear me and also laugh behind their hands at how eager I am for your…well, I can deal.”
Trenne gave him a brief smile. “I know you can. But if you need me, ask, Taji. Please.”
Please. Taji couldn’t address that in a reasonable tone, so he said nothing about it. “I wonder what the origin of the concept is, not that anyone will tell me. I should try to find out anyway. You should remind me.”
“Yes, Taji.” Trenne checked the door—again—and then touched a panel on the wall to dim the lights to near human levels of preferred darkness for sleeping. Several species did not need dark to sleep—or sleep at all—so that was considerate of him, even if Taji was wide awake.
“Is Olea Rinnah a rival to the throne?” he pondered aloud. “It didn’t seem like it. But if she was tied to someone—she would have to be tied because it has to be official to make an heir, doesn’t it? And if she was trying to make a baby, assuming she would be the one to bear the child, she would be a shehzha, and that means she wouldn’t be an imperial heir anymore, would she? At least for the time that she is a shehzha. That’s so interesting. If that’s the case, and the sex is so wonderful, why wouldn’t the wooing be the other way around? Wouldn’t I woo you for the chance to have you to myself?”
Even in the dim lighting, he could see Trenne hold himself very still.
“So to speak,” Taji finished weakly. “For example.”
“Why would you lower yourself when your presence is already a gift? It is not everyone who is capable of giving so much,” Trenne said quietly, and then rolled out a long piece of cloth onto the floor. He kneeled down a moment later.
Taji blinked several times, but no, he didn’t seem to be dreaming. “Are you going to sleep on the floor?”
“I will be between you and anyone who will enter,” Trenne explained while stretching out.
Danger or not, this was ridiculous. “Trenne.” Taji felt strangely faint. “I’ve taken enough from you as it is. No need to sacrifice more. Get up here. This…this bed is huge, even for Shavians.” It was probably also intended as an honor to Taji. Now it was going to haunt him.
Trenne’s movements only stopped for a heartbeat. He got to his feet very slowly. The danger suddenly seemed less about Imperial Guards bursting in and more about Taji doing something very rash and embarrassing.
“Anyway,” Taji continued, barely stuttering, “I probably will be awake for a while, reading, thinking…”
“This is why.” Trenne came toward the bed. “This is why they think what they do about us.”
Taji’s lovestruck stares and basic courtesy were to blame yet again.
He shook his head. “Being nice to you is a far cry from courting, I’m sure. Are there actual courting rituals? I hope they’re sweet and not fights to the death or something similar.” His voice went up as Trenne sat on the opposite side of the bed from him, and then carefully laid down on top of the bedding. He pulled the bedroll from his kit over him like a blanket.
“Those others, that night in the city, would have fought to the death for you,” Trenne revealed, his face turned away. “It is a small price for someone who would desire them without shame or fear.”
Trenne wanted that. Taji could hear it in his voice. Trenne would fight to the death for some needy, giving shehzha if he thought they would want him. Maybe even if they didn’t want him. He would probably say dying for them was an honor.
He was unreal.
“You should try to sleep,” Trenne remarked in the next moment and rolled onto his side. “Tomorrow will be a test. Everything I do will be wrong. I do not want you to be surprised by that. You should expect it. Their judgments of me will be harsh, but you should not let it disturb you.”
The dark meant Taji couldn’t see nearly as much of Trenne’s bare back as he would like, but that was best for his sanity. That way he wouldn’t picture himself trying to convince Trenne that his treatment by the Sha wasn’t right, and Taji would be upset by it no matter how much sleep he got, or imagine what it might feel like to smooth his hands over Trenne’s skin and curl against him.
“Sleep, Taji. You need it,” Trenne added, after the silence had gone on.
Taji jerked, then forced himself to turn onto his back and keep his gaze pointed toward the ceiling. “I’ll do what I want.” He wondered if the two painted figures above the bed were even fighting, or if the scene was some kind of code or reference to something else. Even knives had layers of meaning to Shavians. “Unless,” he added after a while, without knowing if Trenne was awake. “Unless it makes you uncomfortable. Were you uncomfortable earlier when I touched you?”
“No.” Trenne didn’t add anything else.
“So we go on like before,” Taji finished for him, since anything else he might have said wasn’t wanted, “but with more touching. I’ll have to touch you a lot, judging from how that woman reacted.” Trenne was silent. Taji’s heart thudded in his ears. “That’s… okay. That’s completely fine.” Taji pushed his hands under his thighs. “No worrying about me, then. I’ll shut up and you can get some sleep.”
“Sleep,” Trenne repeated, in a dry way, as if something was funny. “You do the same,” he ordered in what could have been weary amusement. “Although the servant you mentioned will be pleased to know I have left you exhausted.”
The sound that burst out of Taji was low and pained. The curl of heat in his middle was torturous. He bit his lip and rolled over, away from the temptation of Trenne. “Do you think so?” he asked in a rasp. “Then I will make sure everyone tomorrow sees me as worn out and used up and hungry for more of you.”
“Taji.” Trenne’s shock carried through the dark.
Taji did not move. “Good night, Trenne,” he said firmly, and closed his eyes to imagine a hundred scenes that would never happen.
Chapter Six
TAJI WOKE UP alone, startled to have slept at all. He turned off the alarm he’d set on his data device in order to lie there in silence next to the pristine half of the bed that no longer held any of the warmth from Trenne’s body. He wasn’t surprised—in fact, he was grateful for the time to collect himself without the distraction of Trenne around. Nonetheless, he stared at the empty spot and then at the ceiling when he had to look away.
The painting above him was old, judging from the style of clothing. An image of two people about to fight was a strange thing to put over a bed, if they were about to fight. Just because they had their arms outstretched and blades in their hands, didn’t mean they were ready to kill each other. Maybe they were about to trade. Maybe they were showing off the superior craftsmanship of their pointy death sticks. Or maybe Taji’s mind was desperately trying to avoid thinking about this moment, and the night before, and what today would be like.
He stumbled to his feet and then into the bathing room, where he stripped down and stepped under the sheets of heated water. His skin prickled at his perfect recollection of Trenne without a shirt and combing his hair, and the line of Trenne’s body next to him on a wide, soft bed.
Making himsel
f come should have been habit, a precaution to keep from embarrassing himself the first time Trenne touched him in front of an audience. But every thought that had tormented Taji during the night was fresh in his mind, and today would only bring more. He was expected to touch Trenne in the manner of someone who couldn’t resist him. He was supposed to do that in front of others, and if Taji got aroused, Trenne was meant to take care of it.
That part wouldn’t happen, and Taji didn’t think getting off now would really do anything to help him save any dignity. He hadn’t brought anything to draw this out, and had little time anyway, so he made a fist around his cock and closed his eyes and remembered the tension between them when he had lightly brushed Trenne’s stomach. He didn’t have to tease himself. He recalled Trenne’s urgent, “Taji,” whispered in the dark, and nearly arched up onto his toes as he came.
He cleaned up in short order, dried off, and rubbed oil in his skin and hair to keep them soft. Then he checked his data device as he dressed, once again putting on his inherited soria and a quick swipe of shimmer on his lower lip. But he hesitated at the door.
They had agreed nothing was to change except the levels of physical contact. He had no reason to doubt himself as he wandered over to disturb the bedding for any potential audience. But he thought, if he and Trenne ever spent the night together in something other than sleep, it would show on his face. Everyone was right about that.
However, he had no time to wonder how a well-fucked and needy shehzha would start the day without their… He made a note to ask if there was a term for the partner who protected the shehzha’s honor, and opened the door.
Lin and Nadir stood at either side of the entrance, a surprise, but not what stopped him cold.
Two members of the Imperial Guard were shoulder to shoulder in front of him, looming and well-armed giants with cuffs on their ears that might have been translators. They towered over Nadir, who was already taller than Taji, and topped Lin by several centimeters.
Taji thought, quietly hysterical, that they were here to drag him off to a dungeon like all ill-fated IPTC representatives. Then he got a hold of himself as much as he could and looked to Lin for explanation.
Lin was in an odd mix of a formal IPTC uniform and her serviceable, everyday fatigues. New patches and symbols displayed on her shoulders spoke of her rank and past service—most of it incomprehensible to Taji, who had never had the time or interest to invest in finer points of IPTC soldiery.
This felt like a mistake. Lin was sending a message—to Taji, or to the Guards—and Taji couldn’t read it.
Nadir had a small patch on his shoulder Taji did recognize, mostly because Trenne also had it. It indicated valor in battle, which meant Nadir, like Trenne, had fought in some form of combat, been awarded something for it, and like Trenne, usually chose not to advertise that fact for whatever reason. Taji doubted fighting, or survival, shamed either of them. But perhaps serving IPTC did.
In any event, Nadir wore it now, with a few other bright spots of color. He’d also rolled up his sleeves, which Taji was almost positive was a regs violation. But it showed off his forearms very well.
Nadir said, “Good morning, Ameyo,” and nodded respectfully.
Taji turned back to Lin in utter confusion. She responded by handing him a large cup.
To a Shavian, it was probably a small cup. But it was also hot and full of instant coffee with sweetener. Taji took a noisy drink from it without looking away from her.
Lin’s expression did not change. “The ambassador regrets taking him from your side so early,” she announced clearly, making Taji’s grip on the cup falter.
He dropped his eyes to his coffee and focused on the bittersweet scent. The team definitely knew about the subterfuge, and because they had an audience, were doing this instead of teasing Taji for being so obvious that even the emperor had noticed.
“Oh.” Taji had nothing else to say immediately, not with two Guards—or spies—staring at him, wondering about his sex life, trying to determine if Trenne had left him satisfied.
The panicked thought brought him up short, because that was probably exactly what the Guards were doing. That was what everyone would be doing, because Taji was working, and because Trenne was hurat and they didn’t think he should have a shehzha, even a human one.
“Oh,” Taji said again, warmer, and lifted his head. “When do I get to see him?”
“Soon.” Lin was trying to out-Sha the Imperial Guards. Her expression and tone were blank. But she gently tapped the side of Taji’s cup until he took another sip. “While you wait, Olea Rinnah has arranged for you to see more of Laviias. Nadir and I will accompany you.”
“No breakfast?” Taji was almost embarrassed at the speed of his question, but he already had other things to be embarrassed about today.
A nutrient bar appeared in Nadir’s hand before Taji had time to contemplate how whiny he sounded.
“Gotta keep that strength up,” Nadir told him, with a wink.
The Imperial Guards seemed to somehow grow even stonier and quieter, possibly shocked or offended at Nadir’s tone.
Taji was neither, and snatched the food from Nadir’s hand. “Trenne would have gotten me the crunchy kind,” he pointed out to be obnoxious. “But thanks.” He was mid-swallow of more coffee when Lin gave him and the cup a significant glance.
“Did I not grab the crunchy one?” Nadir asked in all seriousness. “Damn it. He’s going to give me that look like my ancestors regret my existence.”
“I mean,” Taji went on, nearly choking as he tried to stuff his face while not reading anything into the fact that Trenne had ordered Nadir to bring Taji a crunchy nutrient bar, “I’ll thank Trenne for the coffee later. And the food.” He glanced up at the wall of stony gray in old-fashioned sorias. He swallowed a painful lump of barely chewed protein and pasty flavoring.
He couldn’t tell if that comment was enough to please the silent Guards. Their presence had not been explained and he couldn’t ask about it where they could hear.
Having never acted before, he wasn’t sure if he should make it clearer that he planned on thanking Trenne with sex. It felt like too much, but so did the entire situation, and anyway, Taji had come not too long ago, and his coffee hadn’t kicked in yet, so his thinking wasn’t the sharpest.
“Wait, something called him away? But I wasn’t needed?” Taji gave Lin and Nadir a frown, although they were never going to take his side over Trenne’s, not even in pretense. “What about the ambassador?”
Lin didn’t bother to react with any emotion. “Tsomyal will join you in time. This trip was planned in your honor, Taji Ameyo. Olea Rinnah’s Mos is to show you some of the older monuments. Some of the other guests have also been invited.”
Nadir snorted at the word ‘invited’ but otherwise didn’t comment. Taji glanced to the Imperial Guards again.
“The Koel?” Taji had forgotten about them with so much else to think about. “What about the emperor’s friends?”
“Larin Emperor hopes you will enjoy your visit.” The level, husky voice of one of the Imperial Guard froze Taji in place. For a moment, he couldn’t tell which one had spoken. Then, one of them continued. “We will ensure your safety.”
“Was my safety in question?” Taji asked with enough bravado to make him briefly believe he was as reckless and wild as Trenne claimed. He shook his head in a dizzy sort of half-assed apology and tried again. “I mean, since I already have an escort. Surely you have other tasks, and I am of no interest to anyone.”
The first Imperial Guard—or at least, the one who had spoken—did not soften. They were the great cliffs overlooking the water. If Taji hadn’t been used to interpreting the faintest glimpse of Trenne’s emotions, he might not have noticed that something he had said or done had unsettled that one.
“The Olea and the emperor will not allow harm to befall a shehzha,” the first Guard explained. They, or possibly he, had light coloring, like Lin, but no trace of her accent. In
fact, they had no immediately detectable inflections.
Taji belatedly noticed the detail of a silver metallic clip on the Guard’s soria, at chest-height. The other Guard didn’t have it, so it must have indicated a rank. Everything else about them was the same indistinguishable gray clothes and multitude of weapons on display.
Which, again, implied Taji was in more danger than he knew about. It could have been a translation problem, but if so he had only himself to blame since he hadn’t turned his translation device on.
Then Nadir quirked an eyebrow and Taji didn’t get a chance to contemplate whatever extremely Shavian message was behind the two Guards being assigned to watch him.
“Corporal Lin and I will be with you until Sergeant Major Trenne returns for you,” Nadir informed him, as though the Imperial Guards weren’t there. “Hurry up and drink your coffee.”
The Imperial Guards managed to indicate displeasure at this without actually moving. As if he’d noticed that too, Nadir quirked his mouth. Lin simply reached out to take the empty cup from Taji, then opened the door to leave it in his room. She closed the door again, firmly, before turning to him and waiting, not at ease.