Mikhyal listened in silence to Tristin and Jaire’s account of the events at the shelter. The anzaria Ilya had given him had sent him into a deep sleep, and he’d only woken when Ilya had roused him for the flight back to the palace that morning. Upon their arrival, they’d been given breakfast and then ushered into Drannik’s study.
Despite the thick cloak he wore over his clothing, Mikhyal was still shivering with cold. Mythe-shock, Ilya had said, and gave Mikhyal permission to attend the meeting only after receiving his assurance that he would rest for the remainder of the day.
Learning that Lieutenant Takla and his men were all dead had been a blow. While Mikhyal and the others were eating breakfast, Kian had taken Rhu out on dragonback to search for them. They’d returned shortly after to report that they’d found the remains of the camp and the men.
Guilt gnawed at him. If he hadn’t insisted on scouting ahead, might he have saved them? No. He’d done what he thought best at the time, and he must make an effort to remember that. If he allowed himself to fall into the trap of questioning every decision, he’d lose his edge, and Rhiva needed him sharp and decisive. Shoving away the guilt, he brought his focus back to Jaire’s account of the previous day’s events.
“… and after Tristin set him on fire, I… I finished him off,” Jaire said quietly from his spot across the table. “He might have hurt Mikhyal and Shaine, but… I couldn’t bear to watch him burn.” He sounded very young and uncertain, and when he’d finished, he bit his lip and stared up at his brother. “You’re right, Garrik. I don’t think I’d make much of a soldier. I haven’t the stomach for killing.”
Garrik’s arm went around Jaire, and Mikhyal’s heart stuttered painfully in his chest as the brothers’ display of affection reminded him of how he and Shaine used to be.
“You did well,” Garrik said. “Compassion is not a weakness. It’s one of the things that sets us apart from the Wytch Council.”
Jaire swallowed hard. “Then… then when Anxin was… was dead…” he trailed off, eyes filling with tears.
Tristin said softly, “If… if I might continue, the tale, Your Majesty?” At Drannik’s nod, he said, “Once Anxin was dead, Dirit reported that he had dealt with the rest of the Drachan.”
“You’re certain they were Drachan?” Drannik asked.
“Dirit said they were,” Tristin said. “He said they, um, had a… a flavor.”
“Ai, he said the same to me after he dealt with the troops Anxin had brought into the palace,” Mikhyal said, reaching for Tristin’s hand under the table and giving it a squeeze.
“And so they do,” Dirit said, appearing on the table in front of Mikhyal. “A nasty, musty, oily flavor. I shall have to eat blackberry tarts until the aftertaste has gone. It still lingers, and I fear I shall have dreams most frightful until it abates.” The little dragon gave Mikhyal a meaningful look, and Jaire’s lips twitched into a small, watery smile.
“Is that creature speaking to you again?” Drannik asked.
“Ai, he’s just putting in his breakfast order,” Mikhyal said drily.
“Indeed.” Drannik’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “And what would he like?”
“Blackberry tarts,” Tristin, Mikhyal, and Jaire said almost at the same time.
“Well, then. We shall have to see that the kitchen staff are notified,” Drannik said gravely. “Master Dirit shall have his pastries.”
Dirit materialized long enough to perform an elaborate, sweeping bow to the Wytch King, and then vanished.
Garrik, who had been mostly silent up until now stirred and said, “Since it appears that Anxin knew of the Northern Alliance and of our ability to create dragon shifters, it might be best to operate under the assumption that the Wytch Council also knows.”
“Ai,” Drannik said with a sharp nod. “Our advantage lies chiefly in meeting their superior numbers with our dragon army. If Anxin did have the opportunity to pass along what he learned, we might expect them to strike soon, before we have had a chance to transform more men.”
“I will stop at the palace in Mir and at Castle Irila on my way home and inform Edrun and Ord that they must be vigilant. We may need to meet again, sooner rather than later.”
Drannik inclined his head. “I will be available at your convenience.”
“I’ll also have a word with Vayne,” Garrik said. “If we could find him an apprentice or two, we might be able to build our army more quickly.”
A sharp rap on the door was followed by Ilya’s entrance. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Your Majesty, but Prince Shaine is beginning to stir. He’s been calling for his brother.”
Mikhyal got to his feet. “I’ll go and see to him. Finish your meeting, Father. I’ve already told you all I can recall. Ilya wishes for me to rest for the remainder of the day, but if we need to discuss strategy, there is no reason I cannot do that from my bed.”
Ilya shot him a disapproving look, but Drannik said, “I’ll stop by when we’ve finished here.”
Mikhyal gave Tristin’s hand another squeeze under the table and whispered, “Come to me in Shaine’s apartment when you’ve finished here. There are things we need to talk about before you return to Altan.”
Tristin nodded mutely, ears going pink.
The moment he and Ilya were alone in the hall together, Mikhyal asked, “How is Shaine?”
“He has yet to awaken fully, Your Highness,” Ilya said. “I see nothing in his mythe-shadow to concern me, but I would like to have Prince Vayne come to Rhiva to examine him, just to be sure all of Anxin’s hooks died with him.”
“If you can spare him, we would appreciate that,” Mikhyal said.
Shaine looked very small in the big bed in his apartment. His flame-bright hair was unbound and scattered across his pillow, framing his pale face in a fiery halo. He was murmuring in his sleep, eyes fluttering half open now and again.
“He’ll be awake before long,” Ilya said. “It might reassure him if yours is the first face he sees.”
Mikhyal settled himself on the big bed next to his brother, and took hold of his hand, stroking it gently. “Come on, Shaine. Time to wake up.”
Shaine’s eyes fluttered and opened. He blinked up at Mikhyal, frowning. “Mik?”
“Who else? Welcome back. I’ve been worried about you.” Tears filled Shaine’s eyes and spilled down onto the pillow. Mikhyal pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped Shaine’s face. “I used to wipe your tears away when you were small. Do you remember?”
“I… I remember.” Shaine’s voice was a hoarse whisper.
“You used to run after me, always trying to keep up with me, and never quite managing it. I thought you were a bit of a nuisance at the time, but I’d give anything to have my little brother back. He was so quick to smile, and he had the most infectious laugh.”
Shaine turned his head away. “You don’t want him back,” he whispered. “Haven’t you heard? He’s a traitor and a coward of the worst sort. He tried to murder his king. He ordered his own brother shot down, and he locked a blood-chain around his brother’s neck with his own hands. If he’d been more of a man, he’d have found a way to break free of Anxin instead of allowing him to hurt those he loved.”
“Do you really believe that?” Mikhyal asked softly. “Shaine, look at me.” He waited patiently for Shaine to turn his head and open his eyes. When he did, Mikhyal locked gazes with him and said, “Anxin used the power of the mythe to bind you to his will. He manipulated you in ways you had no hope of fighting.”
“Your brother speaks the truth,” Ilya said from the foot of the bed. “You had no chance against the full might of Anxin’s power. What happened was not your fault. Your brother knows that.”
Shaine closed his eyes and curled up on his side, back to Mikhyal. Ilya managed to convince him to drink some medicine, and Mikhyal stayed close until Shaine’s deep, even breathing told him his brother was asleep.
Ilya withdrew slowly, beckoning to Mikhyal, who gave his brother one last, lingering look, heart breaking a little. He’d only just gotten him back. Was he to lose him to despair now, when there was so much to hope for?
Dirit appeared on the bed and settled himself beside Shaine, curling up on the pillow next to his head. “Go and talk to Ilya,” he said. “I shall watch over Prince Shaine, and I will fetch you if he needs you.”
“Thank you, Dirit,” Mikhyal murmured, and followed Ilya into the main room of Shaine’s suite. When he’d closed the door quietly behind him, he said softly, “I suppose it was too much to hope that he would be… unchanged. Unaffected.”
“He’s been through things you cannot even imagine, Your Highness,” Ilya said. “As I told you last night, it will take time and patience.”
“I wish…” Mikhyal stared down at the floor, guilt at his own ignorance nearly overwhelming him. “I should have known. He was so different after the accident. But the healer said a blow to the head like that… and I asked one of the healers down in the village, and she said the same. I had no idea. All that time, he was trapped in his own body. Watching me, all the while silently begging me to see… and I didn’t. How could I have been so blind?”
“You had no way of knowing,” Ilya said gently. “Do not blame yourself, Mikhyal. Shaine needs you to be the strong, confident brother he remembers, now more than ever. He needs you to believe in yourself so that he can feel the truth of it when you tell him you believe in him.”
Mikhyal barked out a laugh that turned into a sob. “You make it sound so easy.”
“Do I? I do not mean to mislead you. It will not be easy. Recovery from something like this is a long, difficult journey.”
“But it can be done?”
“It can, but he cannot do it alone. He will need your strength. He will need you to convince him that the journey is worth taking. That the darkness he must stumble through will eventually end, and he will emerge into the light.”
“Do you really believe I can be that for him?” Mikhyal whispered.
“I do.” Ilya’s voice was firm and full of conviction. “You have one weapon Anxin did not have.”
“And what would that be?”
“You love him. And deep inside, Shaine knows that. In the end, it may be the only thing that matters.”
“Might I stay with him, then, Master Ilya?” Mikhyal asked. “I know I promised you I’d rest today, but I think I could do that just as well watching over my brother as I could worrying in my own apartment.”
Ilya gave him a long, appraising look, perhaps studying him with his healer’s sight. “I think,” he said finally, “that is an excellent idea. It would be good for Shaine to have someone who cares for him nearby.”
Mikhyal turned to go back into Shaine’s bedroom, but before he could take a single step, the apartment door opened and Drannik strode in.
“How is Shaine, Ilya?” Drannik asked.
Ilya pulled no punches in his description of what Anxin had done. He told Drannik exactly what he’d told Mikhyal, finishing with his recommendation to have Vayne come out and examine the prince.
“Anxin,” Drannik growled when he was finished. “Damn him to the Dragon Mother’s coldest hell. Is there no end to the Council’s treachery? I knew he was influencing Shaine, but to burrow into the boy’s mythe-shadow like a parasite? And right under my nose?” The Wytch King shook his head. “I should have seen it.”
“With respect, Father,” Mikhyal said in a low voice, “You never wanted to look at Shaine closely enough to notice. I tried to tell you he’d changed after the accident, and you said he’d finally grown up and decided to take his responsibilities seriously.”
“Ai, that I did. I’d long suspected the boy wasn’t mine, and when the Council decided Shaine would be my heir rather than Mikhyal, I resented him even more.”
“Nevertheless, you did acknowledge him,” Mikhyal said. “He is yours by right, if not by blood, and you are the only father he’s ever known.”
Drannik stared at his son, dark eyes wide and stunned. “Ai,” he said finally, in a very small voice. “That I am. And I’ve not been a good one, I fear.”
“There is still time,” Ilya said quietly.
“Perhaps,” Drannik said, looking thoughtful. “Perhaps there is, at that.”
* * *
Tristin emerged from his bedroom in the guest suite of Rhiva’s summer palace to find Garrik, Jaire, Kian, and Ilya busy devouring breakfast.
“You should have woken me,” he said reproachfully as he took a place at the table.
“Ilya said we should let you sleep as long as you could,” Jaire said.
“You were so tired, you were falling asleep in your dinner last night,” Garrik added.
“But-but we’re leaving right after breakfast, aren’t we?” Tristin almost wailed. He’d wanted to say goodbye to Mikhyal properly, but it didn’t look as if there was going to be time.
“Well… we’re leaving,” Garrik said, indicating himself, Jaire, and Kian. “Ilya’s staying on for a few days to keep an eye on Prince Shaine. And Wytch King Drannik stopped by last night, after you’d gone to bed. He and Ilya and I had a long talk about Shaine’s recovery. He’s going to need much in the way of support, and he may find it helpful to have someone to talk to. Someone who isn’t family, and has also been used and abused by the Wytch Council.” Garrik gave Tristin a meaningful look. “Drannik wanted me to ask you if you’d have any objection to spending some time here at the palace.”
“Ah… well.” Tristin swallowed, hardly able to believe the Wytch King would want him to stay on to help his son. “I think… um…”
“Mikhyal will be here,” Jaire pointed out with an innocent smile.
Tristin’s face felt like it was on fire, and he slouched a bit in his chair. “I… yes?”
“Is that an answer?” Garrik inquired. “Or a question?”
“I would… I mean, I think… I’d be very happy to help. And of course, Mikhyal being here would be… well, that is… Oh, but can Master Ludin spare me from the greenhouse?”
“I will speak to him,” Garrik said gravely. “I’m certain something can be arranged. Your only obligation to me is to put in an appearance at the harvest festival for Jaire’s wedding.”
Jaire turned big grey eyes on Tristin. “You’ll be there, won’t you, Tristin? I want all my family there when I marry Vayne.”
All my family. Tristin’s eyes filled, and he smiled at Jaire. “I’ll be there, Cousin. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
“Plan to stay for the entire week, then,” Garrik said. “There will be much to celebrate, including a special ceremony to recognize you as Vakha’s legitimate son and heir.”
“Whatever for?” Tristin frowned at his cousin. “My father never wanted anything to do with me, and I want nothing to do with his name or his titles. Why should I care about any of that?”
“You may not care, but the nobility of the Northern Alliance undoubtedly will,” Garrik said. “How am I to ensnare you in an alliance marriage if I haven’t legitimized you?”
Tristin’s heart stuttered, and a shiver of dread rippled through him. Was he to be married off and sent away like some unwanted piece of furniture? Of course, it made sense for Garrik to make such use of him; Tristin was more of an embarrassment than anything. “Alliance marriage?”
Garrik leaned forward, eyes glittering with mischief. “I hear Rhiva has a prince of marriageable age. Recently declared heir to the throne, if I’m not mistaken.” He winked. “Of course, if you object, we can certainly drop the matter.”
“Rhiva?” Tristin’s voice was almost a squeak. “Y-you mean Mikhyal?”
“Indeed,” Garrik said with a grin. “If you and Mikhyal are in agreement, of course. There’s no need to rush into anything. Unless, of course, you want to rush into it.”
Tristin’s tongue knotted up and his face burned so hot he had to loosen his shirt. Jaire patted his arm comfortingly and shot his brother a glare. “Leave him alone, Garrik. He’s not used to being teased.”
“Sorry, Tristin.” Garrik didn’t look at all sorry. “You feel like one of the family already. I forget you’re still new to all this.”
Family.
There was that word again, this time coming from Garrik. Tristin gave his cousin a shy smile and said, “It’s all right, Garrik. I don’t mind your teasing. I… I don’t know about the other, though. I think… I think it’s a bit early to be making plans. I hardly know the man. Although… I’d, um, I’d like to see a lot more of him.” He flushed again, realizing that what he’d said would probably be misinterpreted. “Um. I mean, I’d like to get to know him better.”
Garrik’s lips twitched, but he managed to keep a straight face. “See as much of him as you like, Cousin.”
An hour later, Tristin said goodbye to his family in the courtyard of Rhiva’s summer palace. Kian had already shifted, and Jaire was busy settling the saddle on the big, black dragon’s back.
Garrik hugged Tristin hard. “Take care of yourself, Tristin. You can expect Vayne in the next day or so. We’ll send along some of your clothes and things for you. And I imagine you’ll be seeing Jaire, as he’ll probably talk Vayne into bringing him along.”
“I’ll have the staff prepare a suite for them,” Mikhyal said, coming up beside Tristin.
Garrik nodded to Mikhyal, then stepped back, threw off his cloak, and shifted. Heavily muscled, with orange-gold scales glinting in the sunlight, Garrik’s dragon form was just as impressive as his human one.
Tristin lifted the saddle, settled it on his back, and secured the straps. Mikhyal helped him heft the saddlebags and get them attached. When he’d checked all the straps to make sure they weren’t digging into Garrik or rubbing anywhere, Tristin gave his cousin a playful slap on the flank. Garrik whipped his head around with an indignant snort.
Jaire laughed. “That’s the way to deal with Garrik,” he said happily. “Goodbye, Tristin. I shall probably be back with Vayne in a day or so, but if not, I’ll look forward to you coming home for the wedding.”
“Coming home,” Tristin murmured. “I like the sound of that.”
“You’ll bring Mikhyal with you, won’t you? And… and Shaine, if he’d like to come. If he’s well enough.”
“I will be sure to let him know he’s welcome,” Tristin said.
Jaire hugged him, then stepped back next to his brother and shifted. Jaire’s dragon form wasn’t nearly as big as Garrik’s, but his coloring was breathtaking. Shimmering opalescent scales caught the light, reflecting all the colors of the rainbow, and brilliant violet markings shaded from light to dark across his body.
Mikhyal watched the three dragons launch themselves into the sky. “They are beautiful, aren’t they?” he murmured.
“Ai, they are,” Tristin agreed.
“I’m still not used to the idea that I can take dragon form.”
“We shall have to practice, then,” Tristin said shyly. “I wouldn’t mind helping you get used to the idea.”
Garrik and Jaire circled the palace once, and Tristin waved. As they turned west toward Altan, Mikhyal’s arm slipped around Tristin’s waist. “Will you miss them?”
“Ai, but Altan isn’t far for a dragon. I can be back with them in a day if I wish. If… if it’s all right for me to visit them.” Having never lived anywhere he loved enough to miss, homesickness wasn’t something Tristin had ever experienced before. He might miss his suite at Castle Altan, though, and he would definitely miss his cousins.
“Of course you can visit them,” Mikhyal said. “Whenever you like. Shall I give you a tour? I thought you’d enjoy seeing the palace grounds. We have some lovely gardens.”
Tristin couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “I’d love to see the gardens. But… are you up to it?”
Mikhyal scowled. “Not if you listen to Ilya, I’m not, but a slow stroll shouldn’t hurt.”
“Then I’d be delighted.” Tristin adjusted himself so that his arm was around Mikhyal. “There you are. You can lean on me if you get tired. Only, do let me know if you feel faint, as you’re quite a bit heavier than I, and I’m not sure I could sweep you up into my arms. We might end up in a rather ungainly heap on the floor.”
Mikhyal laughed, a full, hearty laugh. “That would make quite the picture.”
The palace gardens were quite different than those surrounding Castle Altan, making more use of colorful leaves than flowers, which, with the short growing season in the north, made perfect sense. Tristin found himself studying them carefully and making mental notes. Master Ludin would be fascinated, and Tristin wondered how the old man would feel about riding a dragon to Rhiva to meet with Drannik’s royal gardener.
In the sunny rose garden, they found Shaine and Drannik, sitting on a stone bench talking quietly. Shaine appeared tense and pale, but broke into a tentative smile at something his father said, and Drannik reached out hesitantly to put a hand on Shaine’s shoulder.
“I hope Shaine is able to find himself again,” Mikhyal murmured as they hurried past so as not to disturb them.
“He’s surrounded by people who love him and want to help him,” Tristin said.
“Do you really think that will make a difference?”
“Garrik and Jaire’s kindness certainly made a difference to me. Without knowing I had their support, I’m not sure I’d have had the strength to get through those first few weeks at Dragonwatch.”
“I’m glad you did,” Mikhyal said. As they passed into the palace, he leaned closer to Tristin. “What shall I tell the staff to do about your accommodations? You can have your own suite, if you’d like. Or… or a room in mine. I’ve a spare. I, ah, went to the trouble of having it prepared as soon as I returned from Altan. In case you decided to pay me a visit. We never did get to have that picnic. I was hoping we might rectify that in the very near future.”
“I… I’d like that.” Tristin’s face heated. “The picnic, I mean. And… I… could I? Stay with you? If… I mean, if you would be… Oh, but I don’t have to, of course, and I would never want to impose. I can’t imagine how anyone could—”
Mikhyal pulled Tristin into his arms and silenced him with a kiss. When he drew back, intense blue eyes fixed on Tristin’s, holding him immobile. “I want you, Prince Tristin of Altan,” Mikhyal said, his voice a low, husky growl. “In my suite and in my life. Is that clear enough for you?”
“Ah, um, ai, Your Highness, it is indeed.”
“Then would you like to see your room?”
“Oh, a tour! How very exciting!” Dirit appeared hovering in the air in front of them. “Do lead on, Your Royal Predatoriness. I’m sure Prince Tristin of the New Flower Bed is quite eager to be lured into your lair.” The little dragon’s eyebrow tufts waggled suggestively as he eyed Tristin.
“Your timing is impeccable, you little monster,” Mikhyal muttered.
Dirit’s gleaming black eyes went wide. “Monster? Me? Well, I never! Monster indeed. I’ll have you know your royal father calls me Master Dirit.”
“You have far too many teeth to look properly innocent, Dirit,” Mikhyal told him.
“Well, really.” The little dragon’s whiskers twitched. “I’m quite insulted. In fact, I’m not sure if I shall ever deign to speak to you again.”
“If you don’t speak to me again, how am I to thank you for leading Tristin and Jaire to me?”
One eyebrow tuft lifted. “I could make an exception, I suppose… Especially if there will be groveling. And blackberry tarts.”
“No groveling,” Mikhyal said firmly. “But you do have my heartfelt gratitude, Dirit. You saved my life.”
“Well, that is my sacred duty, after all.” Dirit looked very pleased. “Then, if you’re planning to have your way with Prince Tristin of the New Flower Bed—”
“Prince Tristin of Altan,” Tristin cut in. “Garrik’s promised. He’ll be making it official at Prince Jaire’s wedding.”
“Oh, so we’re going to be true royalty now, are we?” Hovering in midair, Dirit made a very formal bow toward Tristin. “Legitimized and everything. Lands and titles. Nobility. Well. That changes everything. If His Royal Manliness is planning to have his evil way with the soon-to-be Prince Tristin of Altan, then I shall be off to entertain myself for a bit.”
“Dirit, would you… would you mind keeping an eye on Shaine?” Mikhyal asked. “Let me know if he’s alone or sad, or if he might need someone to talk to. After all he’s been through, I fear for him.”
“I will, Mikhyal.” Dirit nodded solemnly, and pressed one of his front claws against his chest. “I will watch over him for you.”
Mikhyal’s eyebrows flew up. “I think that’s the first time you’ve addressed me by name. What’s the occasion?”
Dirit sniffed. “Against all expectations, I do believe I’ve become rather fond of you.” And with that, the little dragon disappeared.
Mikhyal took Tristin’s hand, and they continued on their way. By the time they reached the royal apartments, Mikhyal was leaning heavily on Tristin. “I fear I’m more tired than I thought,” he said ruefully as he handed Tristin the key.
Tristin opened the door and helped him in. “Ilya did tell you to rest. And now I’m telling you, as well. Any more tours and such can wait. I’m not going anywhere.”
Mikhyal went straight to his bedroom, where he sank down on his bed with a sigh of relief.
“See if you can have a bit of a sleep,” Tristin suggested. He expected an argument, and when he got none, realized he’d been correct in his assessment. Tristin was just as glad. He, too, was still feeling tired. Once Mikhyal was settled, he’d go and curl up on one of the sofas in the sitting room and see if he could have a nap.
He covered Mikhyal with a light blanket, leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek, and turned to leave.
“You said you weren’t going anywhere,” Mikhyal said. “Won’t you stay? You look as if you could do with a rest, as well.”
“Ah. Well. I… yes, I am a bit tired,” Tristin said, flushing. “I was going to curl up in the sitting room.”
“Whatever for? There’s room here.” Mikhyal patted the empty space beside him. “Come on, then.”
Tristin hesitated only a moment before pulling his boots off and joining Mikhyal on the bed. He lay down on the very edge, but Mikhyal reached out and dragged him closer, then snuggled up to him, pressing the full length of his body against Tristin’s.
Tristin relaxed against him, and was soon fast asleep.
* * *
Tristin woke with a start, and for a moment, he couldn’t think where he was. Once he felt the warm body pressed against him, he remembered, and relaxed. Outside, it was nearly dark. He’d slept most of the day away, and so had Mikhyal.
“Did you sleep?” Mikhyal murmured, pulling him closer.
“Ai, and better than I thought I would.”
“As did I. I could get used to falling asleep next to you, Tristin.” Mikhyal rolled off the bed and stretched. “Let me go and see if the staff has left us anything.” He padded over to the door and opened it. Warm lamplight poured in, and Mikhyal turned to give him a grin. “Ah, yes. A cold supper packed in a picnic basket, just as I requested.”
“A picnic basket?”
“I promised you a picnic, did I not? A picnic you shall have, my prince.” Mikhyal stepped out to retrieve the basket, and when he returned, he shut the door firmly behind him and brought the basket to the table beside the bed, then turned up the lamp.
Tristin sat up, blinking in the bright light. “In here? You mean to have a picnic on your bed?”
“Well, it’s a bit dark to be off into the forest,” Mikhyal said, “and I don’t suppose Rhu would allow it anyway. Now that I’m the heir, I’m sure I won’t be allowed nearly as much freedom as I’ve been used to.” The expression on Mikhyal’s face was almost wistful. “I suppose we could go and sit in the gardens and pretend we’re in the forest, but it won’t be nearly as private as staying here would be.”
“Private?” Tristin flushed and looked around. “Oh, dear. Dirit did try to warn me about you luring me into your lair.”
“He did, indeed,” Mikhyal said gravely. “And here you are. But you’re free to go whenever you wish. Regardless of what Dirit says, I hope you know I would never try to take advantage of you, Tristin.”
“I, um, I might not… um, actually mind that,” Tristin whispered. The moment the words were out of his mouth, he cringed, certain he’d been much too forward.
“Mind what?” Mikhyal’s voice was gentle.
“Ah. Having you, um, take advantage.”
“Oh?”
“There was… um. That night. When you… when we… and then you took your shirt off, but… and it all felt very nice, but… but I never got to see the, um.” He ducked his head, and the last bit came out in a jumbled rush: “I would have liked to have seen a bit more of you.”
A long silence followed, and when Tristin dared to look up at Mikhyal, the heat in the prince’s blue eyes was scorching. “Your wish is my command,” Mikhyal breathed, and began shedding his clothing.
Tristin’s cheeks flamed, but he kept his eyes fixed on Mikhyal, warmth already beginning to pool low in his belly at the thought of the kisses and touches that might follow.
Mikhyal removed his shirt and tossed it aside, and Tristin drew in a sharp breath as his gaze roamed over the prince’s chest and shoulders.
“Could you…” Tristin trailed off, not sure how to ask. Was there some sort of protocol for these things? “I-I mean… might I… might I see your dragon?”
“My dragon?” Mikhyal’s lips twitched. “I’ve never heard it called… Oh… Oh, you mean… sorry, of course.” He turned around and sat on the edge of the bed, his back to Tristin.
The tattoo was every bit as lovely close up as Tristin had thought it would be. “Beautiful,” Tristin murmured, reaching out to trace the lines with his hands.
“No more beautiful than yours.” Mikhyal rose and turned to face Tristin, hands moving slowly to the laces of his breeches. “Can I show you my dragon now?” he whispered, eyes locking onto Tristin’s.
“Please…” Tristin whispered back. He stared, transfixed, as Mikhyal undid the laces and eased the breeches down over his hips. Mikhyal was as aroused as he was, which both pleased and relieved Tristin.
“Do you think I might see yours?” Mikhyal asked.
Tristin swallowed hard, suddenly feeling painfully shy and self-conscious, which was ridiculous, considering Mikhyal was the one with no clothing on. Without a word, Mikhyal turned down the lamp beside the bed. The room filled with shadows, the only light now a dim, golden glow.
“Is that better?” Mikhyal murmured.
“Y-yes, th-thank you.”
“If you’re uncomfortable, I can get dressed.”
“N-no, I think I’d like… I’d like to… show you…” Tristin’s heart was pounding so hard he feared he might faint. “I’m just not sure… I mean, I’ve never done anything like this before and I’m not sure what the rules are, and I’m terribly afraid I’ll do something wrong, and I can’t help worrying—”
Mikhyal leaned forward and kissed him. “May I begin by undressing you?”
Tristin gulped. “Um. Yes?”
Mikhyal climbed onto the bed and pushed Tristin down. He began undressing him slowly, starting with his shirt, and covering each revealed bit of skin with tender, reverent kisses. When his shirt was off, Mikhyal straddled his hips and leaned down to press a kiss to his lips. “Is this all right?”
“Yes,” Tristin breathed.
“Might I explore a bit farther?”
“Please…”
Mikhyal slowly worked his way down Tristin’s body. Tristin’s entire skin came alive at his touch. The contrast of warm, soft lips with the rough scrape of stubble was almost enough to undo him.
His hips began to flex slowly, pushing his throbbing cock against Mikhyal as he sought the friction that would lead to release.
Mikhyal placed a line of kisses across Tristin’s chest, stopping only to tease a nipple or nip at his belly. He moved slowly down to the laces of Tristin’s breeches, then stared up at him. “Might I see what’s under here?”
“Oh, yes…” Tristin moaned softly, then gasped as Mikhyal began undoing the laces with his teeth, pausing every so often to press his mouth against Tristin’s cock.
Tristin squirmed and moaned, gasping at the pleasure shivering through him.
With agonizing slowness, Mikhyal eased his breeches down over his hips, exposing his hot, rigid cock. “Oh, Tristin.” Mikhyal’s voice was a husky growl that sent a searing heat straight to Tristin’s groin. “I want to touch you. May I?”
“Please…” he whispered.
Mikhyal pulled Tristin’s breeches the rest of the way off and tossed them aside, then leaned forward and pressed a single kiss to his cock.
Tristin could barely stand it. A hot, gritty tension was growing inside him, as if something was stretched so tightly it must surely break. “Mikhyal,” he whimpered, arms creeping around Mikhyal, “I want…”
Before he could even begin to articulate what he wanted, he was in Mikhyal’s arms, the prince’s bare skin scorching him. In the heat of his desire, Tristin’s fears were reduced to ash.
“I want you, Mikhyal,” he said, his voice sounding strong and certain. “Please.”
“Yes…” Mikhyal whispered. His mouth found Tristin’s, and then those big, strong hands were everywhere, pressing, stroking, squeezing…
Mikhyal pushed a thigh between his legs, and Tristin thrust hard against his hip, desperate now for release. Mikhyal’s hands skimmed over his hips before he leaned forward, teeth closing lightly on the meat of Tristin’s shoulder.
Heat surged through Tristin, and he thrust harder. Mikhyal moaned against his shoulder and shifted him to his side, pulling him close with a leg hooked over his hips. Mikhyal’s cock pressed against his own, and then Mikhyal took them both in one big hand and Tristin could no longer think.
It was sweat and power and animal lust, and Tristin wanted it to go on forever. They came together in a blinding flash, and Mikhyal swallowed the hoarse cry that tore from Tristin’s throat in a deep, possessive kiss.
After, they drifted on the edge of sleep, limbs tangled, sweat drying, until finally, Mikhyal kissed him and gave him a sleepy smile.
“Much as I’d love to fall asleep again, we should probably eat something before we do.”
Tristin’s stomach growled at the thought of food, and Mikhyal laughed as he got to his feet. He didn’t bother to dress, moving about the room in a completely unselfconscious manner, turning up the lamp and closing the curtains on the evening.
The picnic basket was still sitting on the little table near the bed, and Mikhyal gave it a rueful grin. “I’d still like a picnic in the gardens. I suppose there’s always tomorrow.”
“Or the next day,” Tristin said with a lazy smile. “Or the day after that.”
“Mmm. I think I shall have to have a long recovery from my ordeal.” Mikhyal’s blue eyes twinkled with mischief. “I wonder if Ilya can be bribed to order me to my bed for a few days.” He set the basket on the bed and began unpacking the food.
Tristin’s stomach growled again at the sight of fresh bread, thick slices of meat and cheese, and blackberry tarts. “Good thing you sent Dirit off on a mission. He’d devour those blackberry tarts in a few seconds, and not leave a crumb for us.”
“He is a funny little thing, isn’t he?” Mikhyal said, settling himself next to Tristin. “I quite resented him at first, but I find I’ve grown surprisingly fond of him.”
“Which is a good thing, as it sounds as if he’ll be with you for the rest of your life.”
“He’s certainly proved his worth. I… I suppose I should ask you before things go much further… how do you feel about… about sharing me with him?”
Tristin flushed, but he kept his eyes fixed on Mikhyal’s. “Considering he’s already saved your life twice, you won’t hear me complaining. And anyway, I will have to learn to share you, regardless. You will be the Wytch King of Rhiva one day, and then I’ll have to share you with the entire kingdom.”
“Can you?” Mikhyal asked, a worried frown wrinkling his brow. “You’re not very comfortable at Court, I know.”
Tristin took hold of Mikhyal’s hand and drew it to his lips, kissing it gently before saying, “If the Dragon Mother wills it, I shall have plenty of time to learn. Believe me, Mikhyal, when I think back to what I thought my future would be just a few short months ago, being here like this with you is… it’s like a dream. I still have to pinch myself to make certain it’s real, and that you’re not one of my hallucinations.”
“It’s real,” Mikhyal whispered, leaning over to kiss him. “And so am I.”
Tristin kissed him back, and for the first time since he’d left Shadowspire, he didn’t feel the need to pinch himself.
~ The End ~