1. White as Snow

Nerian opened the window to let in the cool morning air. The sky outside was blue and cloudless, but the breeze made it clear summer was over.

Nerian smiled and sat on the bench under the windowsill. Soon a family of swallows glided onto the stone of the windowsill. He'd seen the parents arrive with the spring and now they left with three little swallows in their wake. Their nest was right under the roof of the tower where Nerian lived and he'd often watched the adult birds feeding the little ones from his window.

"You're leaving already?" he asked, knowing it was time for the swallows to go back south. He could feel the fall coming in the air as much as them.

The couple chirped a good-bye. Nerian was always amazed that he understood the birds' languages. Swallows and sparrows were his best friends. The night owl that lived in the next tower sometimes kept him awake at night with spooky stories.

"I'll miss you guys," he said with a sigh. In winter only ravens kept him company, and their voices weren't as gentle as swallows'.

He watched the birds fly away and put his chin on his crossed hands, staring at the landscape outside. The mountains looming behind the walls and towers of the castle – snow had already fallen on the highest peaks. The forest spreading at its feet. And further away the hills and plains he'd never visit, since he was locked in that room.

He sat straight and gasped in awe as a winged being glided towards the mountain slopes. He knew they had a nest there and wondered if he'd ever be able to talk to any of them. They had human bodies like him, but also big feathered wings that carried them where they wanted. Males and females wore tight-fitting clothes and mostly short hair.

They never came close enough to enter the arrows' shooting range, but Nerian's keen eyes caught all the details of the feathers and the clothes and the androgynous faces of the winged beings. He had eyes as keen as the falcons that sometimes swept by.

The winged one vanished and Nerian sighed again. Hopefully his breakfast would arrive soon. The breeze pushed his long black hair onto his face and he tucked it behind his ears. He turned back to the room that was his world except for glimpses of whatever he could see happening outside of the castle windows.

The square tower was divided into two rooms by a staircase. A little door allowed him to move from one room to the other – he was currently in the bedroom, but kept his few books and some writing implements in the ante-room. The bedroom had no door to the stairs, only the passage that led to the ante-room.

The canopied bed was unmade, so he pulled up the blankets and sheets, and fluffed the pillow filled with feathers. He closed the curtains and went to the basin and jug to wash his face. Still no trace of facial hair, but he could feel his cheekbones now. He didn't have a mirror, but his face must have lost the roundness of childhood.

Tying his hair in a ponytail with a leather thong, he headed for the chest that held his clothes. Another summer gone. He searched for the woolen tunic and hoped he hadn't grown too much, or he'd have to ask for a new one that fit him. He wasn't getting any taller anymore, but even though he wasn't allowed outside of his rooms, he did exercise every day, and had put on muscle that strained to be contained by the older tunics.

He caressed the one he was wearing when he'd been locked up some ten years earlier, wondering what had happened to that child, that prince that had good cotton tunics in the summer and warm velvet clothes in winter. The cotton he now wore was rough and more for a peasant than a noble young man.

I'm nineteen, he thought. I wonder what Kariel will do with me. Why didn't he kill me when he killed my father and stole his castle and his lands?

His late mother had wished for a child with skin as white as snow, hair as black as ebony and lips as red as blood – and her wish had been granted. Unfortunately she didn't live to meet Kariel but passed away along with Nerian's sister.

Nerian had strong memories of the Sorcerer King coming to power and throwing him in that tower, but hadn't seen him very often since. Kariel never visited, therefore he couldn't ask the Sorcerer King what his fate would be. He could see the usurper when he walked by or exercised in the courtyard, but hadn't talked to him since he'd been locked up.

He took off the nightgown and pulled on a tunic and breeches, struggling to adjust the tunic to his shoulders. He'd have to ask for a new one.

He headed for his desk in the next room, stopping in the closet with its wooden seat to relieve himself. The other room was similar to the bedroom, except it had a desk, a couple of stools and some shelves where he kept his treasured books – all from childhood, since afterward he hadn't been deemed worthy to continue his princely education.

The usual servant brought him breakfast, barely bowing and not daring to look him in the eyes.

"Can you please inform the Sorcerer King that I'll need a new winter tunic? Or at least a cloak?"

The servant nodded and rushed out, leaving the tray of food on his desk. At least they weren't starving him. Nerian still had his appetite, and wolfed down the pastries and tea before pulling out his journal.

The swallows are gone. Soon it will be winter. They will light the fire in the hearth and bring me warm water for the bath-tub. I wish I could be part of the castle life. This tower is boring. I wish the winged beings would see me and take me away.

The quill broke before he added how lonely he felt. He decided not to write it down. What if Kariel came one day and read everything he'd written? Well, just thoughts of a lone boy who had grown up alone, but who knew what the cruel sorcerer could do with it...

He put away the journal and took one of the illustrated manuscripts. The morning went by, the midday meal came and went, sparrows visited and interrupted his reading. And then the door opened at an unusual time.

Startled, the young man looked up, and met the dark eyes of the Sorcerer King. Kariel was tall and handsome, with black hair and an oval, clean-shaven face. His lips thinned at the sight of Nerian and he frowned as Nerian asked, "How come you're here?"

"Just checking," Kariel snapped, retreating towards the door.

"You haven't changed at all, unlike your old counselor," Nerian said. Sir Streilan's hair was gray when he had reached the castle and it had become white since. Sparrows said the two men were the same age, but it wasn't possible since Kariel looked so much younger than his faithful companion.

"Streilan came to see you?" Kariel narrowed his eyes.

"The other day." The young man shrugged and looked away. "He was also checking." He smiled ruefully and looked at Kariel again. "Was his report unsatisfactory?"

"He didn't tell me he saw you."

"Oh." Nerian paused. "Can I have more books?" He looked at Kariel, hopeful. "I know these by heart..." He patted the pile that had come from his room. "And I requested a new tunic." He showed how the one he was wearing was too tight on his shoulders.

"I'll think about it." Kariel turned on his heels and quickly left the room in the tower, leaving Nerian puzzled and wondering what that was all about.

***

Riander pulled the reins of his horse, stopping the pursuit of the stag he was hunting to look at the sky, puzzled. Over the branches of the oaks and maple trees, he could see two winged beings gliding towards the nearby mountain. Oblivious of his prey, he spurred the horse in another direction at a light trot. He'd seen many winged beings from the towers of Ker Garenn, but hadn't yet been out when one of them passed by.

"Your Majesty!" Danhin called, alarmed, following him. "Where are you going?"

"I want to find out where those beings live!" Riander answered, pointing at the sky and feeling exhilarated.

He wasn't sure why he was trying to follow creatures who could fly on the ground, but he was really curious to know more about them. They obviously lived high up on the peaks where men didn't go, but maybe he could reach a spot where he could observe them from a distance.

"But your majesty!" Danhin protested. "We'll lose the hunting party!"

"Who cares? The hunters can take down the prey for the banquet..."

Riander put his bow on his shoulder and the arrow back in the quiver, shrugging his personal servant's protests off. Danhin was a couple of years older than him and his most faithful servant, the only one Riander really trusted at his father's castle, but sometimes he was a little over-dramatic with security issues.

Riander loved hunting alone in the forest, even though that drove his council crazy. He was king, he wasn't supposed to wander around on his own! What if someone attacked and killed him? What would happen to his castle and his lands? Danhin of course supported these theories, but stuck to him even when he wandered off like he was doing now.

Not that Riander cared. Not too much. He was an introvert and would rather lock himself in his apartments than deal with the council and the subjects and the administration and the kingly duties... Lately the demands were to find a wife and produce an heir, for the gods' sake. He was his father's only son, and he was already thirty, what was he waiting for?

Riander wished he could be free like those winged beings he was following. As the mulberry trees opened into a clearing, he tried to orient himself. He seemed to be on the way to Ker Daragon, where he could probably ask for shelter if he didn't go back right now. The day was almost gone, and he might have to sleep in the forest anyway.

"Your majesty, we should go back," Danhin said, panting as if he'd been doing the running instead of his horse.

"Why, you don't like sleeping under the stars like when we were younger?" Riander grinned and winked. "Come on, Danhin, we're fine. Imagine if we catch one of those winged beings."

"I wouldn't try that, your majesty," Danhin chided. "I heard that a hunter who shot one down couldn't even find the corpse."

"Really?" Riander wondered about that. He didn't want to kill the beings, he only wanted to capture one and see it from up close. "Let's go a little farther," he decided, spurring his horse again. "We can always ask for shelter at Ker Daragon."

"I wouldn't want to meet the Sorcerer King!" Danhin protested, still following him.

Riander shrugged. He wasn't afraid of the usurper that sat in Ker Daragon. He'd heard King Kariel was a handsome man, and Riander was curious. Maybe King Kariel had a sister and he could combine a marriage with his neighbor.

Or maybe he could ask King Kariel how he managed the pressure of not getting married. Riander knew the king of Ker Daragon didn't have a wife. They also said he didn't age, so he probably didn't need to breed to produce an heir. Riander wondered if some spell could help him do the same. He didn't mind being king as long as family matters were not put on the table.

He felt he never had a family and didn't want one. His mother had died in childbirth and his father had never remarried. He'd been a lonely prince who preferred reading to playing with other children. He'd dutifully learned everything he was supposed to know, but hadn't embraced the throne with great enthusiasm.

Unfortunately his father had passed away in a hunting accident and he'd been crowned in his place at twenty-two, narrowly escaping a marriage arranged by his father. For the past eight years he'd reigned as best as he could without taking a wife and resisting all offers. And when he had enough of the court and his counselors, he just took off with only the company of faithful Danhin, like he was doing now.

The forest was quiet. The forest was his friend. He wasn't afraid of bears or boars – humans scared him much more. He wasn't afraid of magical creatures either, and felt actually drawn to them, probably because he had a faery godmother. Well, he wasn't sure she was a fairy, although she had pointed ears and long golden blond hair, but she could do magic.

She said she was a healer and seemed to always feel when he hurt physically. Which didn't make him feel invulnerable, but he wasn't afraid of wounds and broken bones either. He knew she'd come if he called her with his mind. He had no idea of what kind of bond it was – magic, probably – but he took it at face value.

And she heard him better when he was outside the castle walls. She'd been almost a mother for him through the years. She said she'd been a friend of his mother, and he believed her. Maybe he should ask her about those winged beings.

But for now he was having too much fun trying to keep up with them through the forest.

***

Nerian took off the leather thong and let his hair fall freely on his shoulders. He slipped under the covers with a shiver. The floor was cold and he was glad to go to bed. As he snuggled up, hugging the pillow, he thought about Kariel's visit.

What puzzled him the most was that the man hadn't changed at all in ten years. He was exactly as Nerian remembered him. Tall and handsome and stern and strong, dressed mostly in black and sharp as a blade... Nerian couldn't decipher him, though. And the little boy inside him could still see the powerful newcomer tear his father to pieces without touching him.

Nerian sighed. Oh, well, if he decides to kill me, there's nothing I can do anyway... If only he would set me free...

Wishful thinking. Kariel couldn't afford to let him go. Nerian was the legitimate prince of Ker Daragon after all.

He's a handsome man. The thought startled him. What was he thinking? Kariel was his enemy! He'd killed his father and locked him in a tower!

Maybe I've been alone for too long... His loneliness was killing him. Bird chatter wasn't enough anymore. More had come, since cats had started vanishing when the Sorcerer King had set foot in Ker Daragon, but they were still birds and he was human.

He missed human relationships. He missed a human touch. Maybe he should have asked for a woman while he was at it. His body was definitely awake and he craved more than just his hand.

Heck, he'd almost jumped to his feet and rushed into Kariel's arms to beg him! Only the Sorcerer King's icy stance had blocked him on his stool. But he felt he was losing control of himself. He wanted to scream and cry at the same time.

Hopefully Kariel's visit meant his life would change soon.

***

Riander had dozed off against a tree long after sunset and woke up a few hours after dawn. Danhin was still asleep and obviously uncomfortable. Of course the winged beings had vanished and by now Ker Daragon was closer than Ker Garenn. He might as well reach his neighbor's castle, have some food and get back to Ker Garenn by the unpaved road, which would be much faster than traversing the forest.

Riander sighed and shook his servant awake. Danhin opened his eyes with a start and groaned as he stretched his limbs.

"You know, your majesty, it was much easier when we were younger," he complained. "We're not getting any younger and you still don't have an heir..."

"Hush," Riander said softly, raising a hand. "You don't have a family either."

"Because I promised I'd get married after you." Danhin rolled his eyes. "Although I'm losing hope by now."

"I free you of your promise, Danhin." Riander smiled. "When we go back, I'll make sure to prepare a wedding banquet for you and Inetina."

Danhin blushed, which made Riander chuckle. Seeing a grown man with chestnut brown hair and a shade of beard blush was quite a sight. He knew his servant had a girlfriend and they were in love. He'd tried to convince Danhin to get married without waiting for him before – without mentioning the lady's name.

"Don't worry, Danhin, I'll be fine. I haven't fallen in love yet, and I don't see any interesting alliance, unless the king of Ker Daragon has a sister."

"I don't think he does," Danhin grumbled, looking away.

"We'll soon know." Riander shrugged. "Get on that horse and let's reach Ker Daragon."

Riander patted his horse's neck and climbed onto the saddle. He should stop following magical creatures. Everybody knew what happened in Ker Eziel when the prince heir summoned a demon. Not that Riander wished to see a creature of darkness, but still...

Riander spurred his horse towards Ker Daragon, yawning in the pearly green light of the woods. He should also stop sleeping under the stars. Danhin was right, it wasn't as much fun now as it had been years earlier. He sorely missed his bed as he tried to ignore the soreness in his body. He wasn't going to show his weakness to his personal servant, though.

I'll recover tonight, in my bed...

***

Nerian was bluntly dragged out of bed and thrown to the cold floor by strong hands. Still dazed and half asleep, he didn't struggle much as someone tied his wrists together with a rope. He saw a tall man in hunting clothes who avoided his stare while he pulled him to his feet.

"Who are you, what's going on?" Nerian panicked as the man grabbed the rope and his wrists to carry him out of the tower room. "Wait, can I wear shoes? Clothes? Is it because I asked for a new tunic and books?"

The man stopped in the short passage and glared at him.

"I don't know what you did, but you won't need shoes or clothes," he said. "I'm supposed to take you to the forest and kill you."

"Will you kill me in my nightgown?" Nerian protested. "Please, allow me at least to wear boots!"

"What do you care if your feet bleed? What part of I'm supposed to kill you didn't you get?" the man snapped.

Nerian gaped and stopped resisting. The huntsman dragged him downstairs and outside the castle. He helped him to climb onto a saddle and mounted behind him before spurring the horse to a trot and leaving the courtyard and the castle walls.

Nerian sat quietly, his wrists now tied to the pommel as well as together. The sun was barely up and the forest welcomed them with its enticing smells and mysterious sounds. Nerian realized how much he'd missed the trees – birches, maples, mulberry trees – and the wildlife.

The morning air made him shiver since he was wearing almost nothing and the huntsman's arm wrapped around him wasn't enough to keep him warm.

"What's your name?" he dared to ask.

"Roddyn."

"Will you let me live, Roddyn? I promise I'll never come back to the castle to threaten the Sorcerer King!"

"I can't. I have family," the huntsman answered gloomily. "The king wants proof of your death."

"What proof?" Nerian asked, puzzled.

"Your heart and your liver."

"Oh." Nerian wondered what he'd done to deserve to die. First Kariel ignored him for ten years, then he stormed into his room – no, his prison – and decided to kill him. "I'm the most unfortunate prince that ever lived," he muttered, frowning. "Not even twenty summers on my shoulders and I'm already dead."

"You should be thankful," Roddyn said. "You could have ended up in his bed."

"What?" Nerian turned his head, trying to see the huntsman's face, stunned.

"He likes young men," Roddyn said mournfully. "He abused my teen son until he preferred death."

"Why do you still serve him, then?" Nerian asked, puzzled.

"Do we have a choice?" Roddyn answered. "Like I told you, I have a family. And none of us has magic powers. Resisting only makes things worse. Now that his best friend is dead, he can only become more cruel. Streilan was the only one who could keep him from hurting more people."

"Streilan is dead?" That was probably why Kariel had visited him, then.

Roddyn nodded, serious.

Nerian sighed. "So you're saying that my death is timely and would spare me much grief?"

"Exactly. You can't beat him and recover your father's throne, so I'll kill you swiftly to spare you what my son had to go through."

They were deep enough into the woods now. Roddyn stopped the horse and dismounted. He helped Nerian down and made him kneel on the leaf-covered ground.

"You won't suffer," he promised gravely, unsheathing his dagger.

Nerian looked at him with pleading eyes. He raised hands with entwined fingers as in prayer. "Spare me," he whispered. "And you won't hear from me ever again!"

Roddyn hesitated. When his dagger went down, it cut Nerian's bonds, freeing him.

"Don't ever come back to the castle," he grumbled averting his eyes.

"Thank you!" Nerian jumped to his feet. "Will you be all right?"

"I'll find an alternative. My brother-in-law is supposed to kill a pig today. I'll stop by his farm before going back to the castle." Roddyn gruffly pushed Nerian back. "Good luck, Prince Nerian."

Nerian watched him mount and spur the horse again. He waited until the huntsman had vanished in the undergrowth, then remembered to move. The cold was biting at his bare feet and his body covered only by the cotton nightgown. He'd better find a shelter if he didn't want to freeze to death.

***

Riander saw the towers of Ker Daragon long before he emerged from the forest and reached the castle walls. Five narrow, round towers were set firm and strong for a great defensive line and were connected by tall, vast walls made of gray stone. Wide windows were scattered generously across the walls in a seemingly random pattern, along with symmetric holes for archers. A moderate gate with massive wooden doors, a drawbridge and hot oil pots offered a safe home to all those in need on that side of the mountains that loomed over the castle.

"They probably have an even better view of the winged beings from their windows than I have in Ker Garenn," Riander said, impressed.

"They probably are as doomed as Ker Eziel," Danhin muttered gloomily.

Riander rolled his eyes. His servant's fears were probably justified, but Danhin hadn't been trained to fight. I've been taught that a sword can kill a sorcerer if used correctly. I can defend myself. I'm not afraid of the Sorcerer King.

The guards at the drawbridge asked him his business and he told them who he was, showing his medallion and signet ring. He left his horse at the castle stables and met the chamberlain at the main door of the castle, where he asked for food before heading back for his own castle.

"I believe his majesty would love to meet you," the plump man answered pompously. "He's just about to start his meal, please come and join him in the great hall." And with a stiff bow he turned on his heels to guide Riander and Danhin through the castle's ground floor.

Ker Daragon's great hall was very similar to Ker Garenn, except for the stained glass on the windows. The neighboring kingdom must have a master glass-worker to be able to have such works on all the window panes.

The Sorcerer King sat alone at the table on the dais. There was another plate to his right, but nobody sat there.

"Sir Streilan died yesterday," the chamberlain whispered before pointing Riander to the stairs that led to the dais. That explained the somber expression on King Kariel's face, although he brightened at the sight of the guest, loudly announced by the chamberlain who stayed where he was, blocking Danhin from following.

"King Riander?" The Sorcerer King rose and smiled to welcome his peer. "I'm honored by your visit."

"I got carried away in hunting a stag and found myself too far from home," Riander said with a nod as the chamberlain led Danhin to a table of lower dignitaries on the left side of the dais. "I haven't eaten and I slept under the stars. I'd be grateful for some food before I head back to Ker Garenn with my faithful Danhin."

"Please, sit with me," King Kariel said, pointing at the empty seat next to him. "We should have met a long time ago."

Riander wasn't sure he liked the king's smiles. The brown eyes seemed filled with lust at the sight of him. So that was the secret of not getting married and eternal youth – loving other men? There must be more, Riander thought.

As he tasted stuffed pheasant and boiled cabbage coming from the kitchens, he observed his neighbor who couldn't be much older than him. He remembered vaguely that King Kariel had come into power ten years earlier, but rumors said that he hadn't changed since.

Riander had heard of his magic and his powers, but wasn't shown any of it during the meal. Just pleasant conversation about both kingdoms, the hunts in the forest that touched both castles, some expeditions up in the mountains that King Kariel had made – to which Riander asked if he'd encountered the nests of the winged beings, receiving a sharp "No" – and other idle talk with no mention of getting married or needing to produce an heir to the kingdom.

King Kariel obviously felt immortal, or at least very long-lived, since he didn't care about succession. Or maybe it was because he wasn't really of royal blood. He even mentioned that eventually he would move away from Ker Daragon, getting lost in thoughts for a moment, probably thinking about the real heir that he kept imprisoned in a tower.

"Will you stay the night?" he offered as they rose from the table. "I'd love to show you the castle and talk more with you. We seem to have lots of things in common..."

Riander nodded. He was more and more curious about his host now. And he could finally ask all the questions. If not about the winged beings on the mountains, about everything else. Even though Kariel hadn't been king for much longer than him, he seemed much wiser.

And very charming. By the time the tour of Ker Daragon was done and a messenger had been sent to Ker Garenn, Riander had forgotten he was dealing with a Sorcerer King who had usurped a throne and mysteriously didn't age.

2. Black as Ebony

Nerian huffed and sat on the stone, trying to ease his feet. He had gone as far from the castle as he could without shoes and had reached the mountainside. Walking up a steep path had been easier than the forest, since stepping on big rocks hurt less than the uneven ground covered with fallen leaves that hid holes, twigs and other traps.

He lay against the rocky wall as he caught his breath. It must be midday now, and his stomach was rumbling. The sun warmed him, but he wasn't sure how he was going to survive, half-naked and weaponless, in the wilderness.

He shifted his back against the rock, trying to find a more comfortable position, and something clicked. An opening appeared near the stone where he sat, making him jump back to his feet, ignoring the pain.

A tunnel! Closed by a secret mechanism! Maybe he'd found some magical creature's home! As far as he knew magical creatures weren't as dangerous as the Sorcerer King who wanted him dead, so he'd better use whatever shelter he found.

Nerian hesitated, then entered the dark tunnel. It looked man-made and was very short. And very low. He had to stoop to walk through it. The opening sent light up to the end of it and he found a lamp next to the tunnel end. He barely had time to light it when the mechanism closed the entrance again.

Now I'm stuck underground, Nerian thought, looking around at the feeble light of the lamp. The ground was smooth and cold, and the cave didn't feel damp. He tried to listen for running water, but it was quiet. The cave wasn't big, but his lamp didn't show much of it.

He carefully moved forward, trying to figure out if the cave was lived-in. Since it had some kind of door, it must have more. The ceiling was high, and he could walk erect. The light didn't reach the top or the walls, so he assumed whatever furniture must be closer to the perimeter.

As he looked up and around, his toe hit something. Cursing under his breath, Nerian lowered the lamp. He'd almost tripped over a short cot, first of a series of neatly aligned cots. Was this a dormitory for children?

Moving around a little more, he found a sort of hearth with kitchen implements and some food. He managed to light a fire and cook some potatoes without burning them. The lit fireplace showed little more of the cave. There were two more tunnels ending there, but Nerian didn't dare explore. Not with just a little lamp that wouldn't last much longer, probably.

He ate the potatoes and found some dried meat to go with them. Better than nothing. He saw a chest of clothes, but they looked too small to fit him. He pushed the cots together so they would make one long bed and he lay across them, using a number of blankets to cover himself. Not as comfortable as the bed in the tower, but better than the cold floor.

He wondered who lived in the cave and when they'd come back. He shivered under the short blankets, eyes wide open in the semi-darkness of the cave. Now he could hear a drop trickling somewhere. The silence was overwhelming. Which was good – he would hear the cave's inhabitants come back.

Each living being made its own set of noises, and it seemed the tiniest sound echoed in the tunnels and cave. Shadows of bats fluttered by at the corner of his eye and he tried to calm his panting breath.

Eventually Nerian dozed off, tired by the walk and the stress of staying alert when he never really had to before.

***

"What the hell does he think he's doing?"

"Why would a Human wander in the forest half-naked and barefoot anyway?"

"This is an intrusion, we should kick him out!"

"I think he's cute, and very young..."

The male bickering jerked Nerian out of his slumber. He slowly opened his eyes that widened at the sight of the seven faces leaning over him. Some had black beards and tangled hair, one had a graying beard and sparse hair coming from a skullcap, one had completely shaven his head and one was clean-shaven with short black locks. One of the bearded ones also had very blue eyes.

Dwarves! Not children. That was why the cots were so short. Adult dwarves fully armed. They had lit lamps and put torches throughout the cave, allowing him to see the big room in its entirety – the beds on one side, the kitchen on the other, the fireplace and the two other tunnels, still dark, leading inside the mountain. The entrance tunnel was also lit, but closed.

Nerian scrambled to his feet. The dwarves barely reached his waist, but their frowns were still quite intimidating. They were armed, and he wasn't.

"I-I'm sorry, I was looking for shelter and I-I..." he stammered, ready to panic.

"How did you find the entrance?" one of the bearded dwarves demanded.

"I bet he opened it by mistake," the clean-shaven one added, amused.

Nerian nodded, speechless, then his knees gave way and he crumbled to the floor, his head finally at the right height to look the dwarves in the eyes.

"I mean no harm." His voice shook and temporarily went back to a childish tone.

"Who are you?" the eldest dwarf asked, almost nose to nose with him.

"Nerian..."

The dwarves pulled back with gasps and sounds of surprise.

"Nerian of Ker Daragon?" the eldest asked again, narrowing his eyes. "Nerian Raven Seeker?"

"Can't you see he has hair as black as ebony, skin as pale as snow and lips as red as blood?" the bald one mocked.

"And transparent sky-blue eyes," one of the bearded ones said gruffly. "That's him, no doubts."

"Yes, that's me..." Nerian's fear didn't subside at the dwarves' reaction. They seemed to know an awful lot about him. And they still held their weapons. And he was one against seven. Maybe he should have let Roddyn kill him swiftly. "Kariel ordered me killed, but I managed to convince the huntsman to let me go..."

The bald dwarf groaned, slapping his face with his palm. "That wicked half-blood!"

The eldest signaled all the others to shut up, since they were all muttering comments in a language Nerian didn't understand. The leader stepped forward and looked the young prince in the eyes.

"You were lucky," he said gravely. "We were wondering why Kariel left you alive ten years ago. You are welcome to stay here, but do not enter the other tunnels." He pointed at the two dark holes gaping at them.

Nerian nodded, eyes still wide in wonder.

"Welcome to our cave!" The clean-shaven dwarf patted his shoulder so hard, he almost sent him flat on his back. "We'll find you clothes and shoes, you can't live in a nightgown forever!"

"And we'll make you a bed your size," another added, white teeth shining through the black beard.

"Oh, sure, sorry I moved your furniture, I should have slept on the floor," Nerian answered eagerly.

"Nonsense, the floor is cold," the eldest said. "We better find a blanket and a cloak your size as well. I'm Alech, and this is my team. We guard this entrance to our kingdom."

"I'm honored to meet you." Nerian bowed his head. "How come you know so much about me and the Sorcerer King?"

"Humans chased us underground with the Genn, but this doesn't mean we never go out!"

"We avoid the crowded Human places these days, though, they stink!"

"We hunt in the forest and know all the castles' whereabouts."

"And we know who Kariel is and where he comes from."

"And we knew your mother and heard her wish!"

"Pity your sister took her with her a couple of years later..."

Nerian remembered to close his mouth and waved to make them shut up, now that each of them had given his opinion.

He gulped. "And do you know anything of the winged beings who live up in the mountains?"

"They are Sila, members of a Magical Race Humans seldom see," the clean-shaven one answered cheerfully. "They're very shy... so no, you can't meet them, even though you have Sila blood."

"I do?" Nerian marveled.

"Why do you think you can talk to birds?" the bald one said with a scoff.

"I don't know, I thought..."

"Humans don't have magic, unless they have some Magical Races' blood in them," Alech said, serious. "Some short-sighted Sila might have met a nice Human and had a child or two... without wings, so they stuck to earth and married and eventually you were born."

"Oh!" Nerian thought wonders never ceased. Then a thought struck him. "So Kariel has Magical Races' blood? Is that why he has magic powers?"

"He's a wicked half-blood," the bald one repeated with a smirk.

"His father is a member of a Magical Race," Alech added. "But Kariel doesn't know it. He thinks he's the son of a court magician, and he's entitled to some magic. That's why he studied magic, and became good – because of his father's blood."

Nerian nodded, thoughtful. Might be the reason why Kariel didn't age as well. But he didn't know enough about the Magical Races to figure out his captor.

"I'm Xhael." The clean-shaven one offered his hand with a grin. The bald one was Temai, and the other four were called Soss – the blue-eyed one – and Yeni, Ikeli and Losik. The last two were identical twins, and even Alech said he couldn't tell them apart. The others weren't related, but they all obeyed Alech, the captain of that little team.

Yeni went to one of the tunnels to see if the dwarves' town had anything for a Human while the twins went out to gather wood to make Nerian's bed. Nerian gladly helped the other four to rearrange the furniture to make room for him.

***

"I don't think it's a good idea to sleep here," Danhin said, scrubbing Riander's back. "What if King Kariel holds you prisoner?"

"He doesn't sound hostile and seems quite content with Ker Daragon," Riander answered with a shrug.

The Sorcerer King had given them a guest room with a big bath chamber. The wooden tub held both of them easily, and the smell of soap filled the room. After washing themselves, they'd shave and wear the clothes the host had provided for them while the washerwomen took care of their own forest-smelling garments.

"He's putting a spell on you," Danhin warned.

"I don't think so. Why would he? He's just charming, that's all."

Danhin moved in the water to face him and raised his eyebrows. "Charming? Let me tell you what I heard at that table, then. King Kariel likes men, and by the way he looked at you everybody in the room knew he'd come to your bed tonight."

Riander stared back at his faithful servant, pondering. "So? I'm sure he'll leave if I tell him to leave."

"Unless he puts a spell on you," Danhin insisted.

Riander snorted and rolled his eyes. "You fret too much, Danhin. I can take care of myself, even though you and the council think I'm a helpless brat. I'm not the prince heir anymore and I'm fully grown up. Just because I haven't found a wife doesn't mean my life is not complete."

"Women tend to fill our lives," Danhin said patiently. "And warm our beds. And cook our meals."

"I have servants to cook my meals and courtiers to fill my life with useless concerns. I don't mind sleeping alone. And I have three decades on my shoulders, I'm sick of being treated like when my father was alive!"

"Forgive me, your majesty," Danhin muttered, lowering his eyes.

Riander shook his head and got out of the cooling bath. Why was the world so obsessed with sex? He had better things to do than thinking about sex all day long. He'd had his experiences and didn't really enjoy them – that was why he was in no hurry to marry and breed out of duty.

He wrapped himself in a towel and Danhin shaved him, then helped him to put on clean clothes. King Kariel had provided a blue tunic and light brown breeches while the washerwomen of the castle took care of his hunting garb.

The dinner banquet was even more sumptuous, with a minstrel playing songs and laughter filling the great hall, now fuller with tables and servants. Still, the table on the dais held only the two kings, who observed the rest of the guests, amused.

Riander could see Danhin didn't look happy, but he decided to ignore him.

"Thank you for bringing your smile to this gloomy castle," King Kariel said as they rose from their seats to leave the great hall.

"I have been told of Sir Streilan's passing," Riander answered, stepping through the great door and seeing with the corner of his eye that Danhin was following them. "Was he very important to you?"

Kariel looked mournful again. "He was my best friend. We grew up together. He'd been my personal bodyguard for many years, so it was a great loss for me."

"Were you also lovers?" Riander asked with an impish smile. None of the ladies present seemed to exist for the Sorcerer King, but his eyes often lingered on young men – when he wasn't staring at Riander himself.

Kariel hesitated, then smiled. "A long time ago. He'd grown too old to have any regular sex."

"Oh, so he died of old age?" Riander asked, puzzled.

"Yes." Kariel sighed. "I'm obviously more long-lived than any of my friends. That's why I'm happy I found you. Will you be my friend?"

"I think being friends among kings is not something approved of," Riander said, amused. "Unless there's some kind of wedding alliance between royal families, I mean."

"You don't have a sister and neither have I." Kariel's smile grew wider. "And you're driving your council crazy by not choosing a bride... Do you count your servant among your friends?"

"I don't have friends." Riander averted his eyes, trying to hide the sour note in his voice. "I'm king, I'm not supposed to have friends."

Kariel put one arm around his shoulder. "Exactly what I hate about this position," he whispered. "And that's probably why I won't stay king for the rest of my life!"

"You are not of royal blood by birth," Riander said. "You can give up this castle when you want. You weren't born here..."

Kariel stared into the distance, taking his arm off Riander's shoulder. "The castle I was born in is cursed," he said. "My mother took me away from there and people abandoned it. I couldn't convince anyone to go back to living there with that accursed prince sleeping in the tower, so I came here."

"Would that be Ker Eziel?" Riander asked. He'd heard of the sleeping prince that had cursed his father's castle at the time of his own grandfather.

Kariel focused on him and smiled again. "Yes, I was born in Ker Eziel, from the court magician, Morthi, and a lady-in-waiting of the queen."

"At the time of Prince Rithvik?"

"I was ten when he killed his father and was put to sleep by Morthi." Kariel nodded.

"That makes you..."

"Eighty or so."

Riander stared impressed at Kariel. He didn't look much older than him, but he understood now why Kariel's childhood friend had died of old age.

Kariel grinned, opening the door to the guest room to let him and Danhin in. "Sweet dreams, King Riander..."

Still puzzled by his host, Riander headed for the big canopied bed ignoring Danhin's worried chatter.

***

Nerian felt like a prince with clothes that finally fit him. Yeni hadn't found anything among the dwarves, so he'd walked all the way to the nearby underground Genn town – whatever that meant. Apparently Genn were other members of the Magical Races, like the Sila, and they were as tall as Humans.

The dwarf had come back with a cotton tunic, leather chest armor and breeches – and soft boots that wrapped Nerian's feet perfectly. His bruised feet felt immediately comfortable in them. Soss, the blue-eyed team's healer, had put some healing balm on his bruises, but the boots were better than the light bandages to keep his feet warm.

He'd dressed in the now brightly lit cave, marveling at the soft fabric on his skin.

"I will repay you by working hard for you," Nerian said, delighted, after parading his new outfit in front of the seven dwarves who had cheered him all the way.

"I wonder what a skinny guy like him can do for us," Xhael teased.

"We should teach him to defend himself!" Ikeli – or was it Losik? Nerian had trouble recognizing the bearded dwarves, but the twins were impossible to tell apart.

"As prince heir of Ker Daragon, he should be able to hold a sword," Alech said, thoughtful.

Nerian's shoulders sagged.

"I had started my lessons with the swordsmaster when Kariel came," he said gloomily. "Then he locked me in the tower and I could never learn anything else..."

"We're not much of swordsmen," Soss said. "Or better, we don't make many swords for Humans. I'll get you one from the Genn forge and if Belfi comes this way – and he often does – we'll ask him to teach you. In the meantime you can learn everything else!"

"The battle-axe!" Yeni shook his with a threatening frown.

"The crossbow!" Xhael waved his with a big grin.

"The war hammer!" Ikeli and Losik chorused.

"The mace!"

"The dagger!"

Alech raised his hand and made them quiet down while Nerian chuckled. At least now he knew the names of the strange weapons the dwarves held so dear.

"I'll gladly learn everything," he said as Alech came to stand close to him. He knelt so he wouldn't tower over the dwarven captain. "I'm one of your men, captain, teach me. I will gladly join your team and help you protect this entrance."

"We will teach you our combat techniques," Alech promised solemnly. "And we'll call Belfi to finish your education for more Human-like weapons when you know the basics. We'll have a sword made for you when you can handle the dagger."

"Welcome to the team!" Xhael rushed to shake his hand and ruffle his hair.

"Will I be able to go out and talk to birds?" Nerian asked.

"Of course, we do go out on patrol," Xhael replied.

"If you can pass us," Temai added, throwing away his weapons and standing with his feet wide and ready to block any attempt to reach the entrance tunnel.

Nerian grinned.

"Is this a test?" he asked.

"We'll have to assess where you're at before we start the training," Alech said with a half-smile. "See if you can gain the exit."

"One against seven?" Nerian asked, jumping to his feet, excited.

"One tall against seven short," Xhael answered cheerfully. "Who's going to win? The giant or...?"

With a high-pitched scream that wanted to be a war cry, Nerian attacked Temai who was right in the way. The exercise ended in a wrestling match like Nerian hadn't had in years. Breathless, he stayed down with Temai and Yeni panting over him, and slowly started laughing.

The first lesson had left him a little bruised, but he didn't care. He hadn't had so much fun in years. The company was something he had deeply missed. The camaraderie of the team was warming.

"Thank you, guys," he whispered as his heartbeat slowly went back to normal.

"You lost, now you cook," Soss said.

Nerian sat as Temai and Yeni rolled off of him.

"I'm afraid you'll need to teach me that too," he said. "I was locked up in a tower with servants bringing me food..."

Temai groaned. "What a useless recruit!"

Xhael offered his hand. "Come, I'll show you a few tricks..."

Nerian smiled and followed him to the kitchen corner.

***

"Your majesty!"

Riander was jolted awake by Danhin's panicked voice and blunt shaking.

"What, there's a fire?" he asked sleepily, trying to focus on where he was. Oh, yes, Ker Daragon's guest room. Bed. Naked. Where was Kariel? Obviously gone, since Danhin was awake.

He aimed his attention at his servant's face. Danhin was disheveled, unshaven, eyes wide.

"What is it, Danhin?" Riander glared at the obvious distress of his faithful attendant.

"I slept... so hard! What happened to you?"

"Nothing, as you can see I'm perfectly fine. Why the panic?"

"Because... you're naked! And I've heard what they say about King Kariel! Did he visit you and put a spell on me so I wouldn't disturb you?"

Riander opened his mouth and closed it, pondering. He remembered the previous night, and Kariel's visit. When the host king had moved in closer, putting his hands under Riander's clothes, he had expressed the doubt that Danhin might wake up.

"He won't," Kariel had said with an impish smile.

He hadn't. Danhin had been spellbound while Kariel had his way with Riander. Who had enjoyed it. But... but... but.

"You succumbed!" Danhin hid his face in his hands, guessing the answer to his question from Riander's silence. "He seduced you! Oh Heavens, we should leave right now, go back to Ker Garenn and..."

"Shut up!" Riander snapped, jarred. "He didn't seduce me! We spent a pleasant night, that's true..."

"Your majesty, you're king! You need to get married and sire an heir, not spend the night with other men!" Danhin was voicing his council's concerns again.

Riander rolled his eyes and slowly got out of bed. "It's just one night. He hasn't emasculated me," he muttered, finding his own clothes clean on a bench and dressing quickly.

Danhin seemed to want to tear his hair out in desperation. "I knew coming here was a bad idea!" he complained.

"Will you shut up?" Riander was sick of him. "Nothing happened! Let's get some breakfast now!"

He hoped they'd find Kariel in the great hall, so he could at least say good-bye and thank him for the hospitality. And the night of sex. Such wild sex like he'd never had before. Made him wonder if indeed he'd rather take a male lover than get married. Or maybe he could get away with both. Marry a dumb lady and keep a male lover on the side.

King Kariel wasn't in the great hall. The chamberlain said he'd stormed out after hearing some bad news from the silly minstrel that had just been kicked out for upsetting his majesty.

"May I talk to that minstrel?" Riander asked, wondering what had upset Kariel so much.

"I believe he's leaving the castle right now." The chamberlain upturned his nose. "We don't like when someone upsets our king. There are always bad consequences."

"Please let me speak with him before he leaves," Riander insisted.

The Chamberlain sniffed but nodded, sending a page to get the minstrel. Riander sighed and sat at the table, ignoring Danhin's moans and groans.

"Your majesty, please, can we leave now?"

"No, we must see King Kariel first. Everything is fine, Danhin, stop fussing!"

"But your majesty..."

"Danhin!" Riander hated to be stern, but he had really had enough of his servant's fears. "We're not leaving yet!"

Danhin muttered something and crouched in his corner, glaring at everybody except his king.

The minstrel was a fair-haired, oddly-dressed young man who grinned as he sauntered to the dais where Riander was having his breakfast.

"So what's your name?" Riander asked him.

"You can call me Aedwyr."

"And what did you do to upset King Kariel first thing in the morning?"

"Ah, well, he doesn't take advice very well." The young man chuckled. "Not even from his old man." He picked a pastry and tasted it before continuing. "Mm, these are just like Rithvik's favorite... Kariel really recreated Ker Eziel here!"

"So it is true that he came from Ker Eziel," Riander said, thoughtful.

"Yes, people abandoned that castle for some reason."

"They were scared of the prince's presence?"

"That's silly, he's still fast asleep." Aedwyr shrugged. "Anyhow, I came to see how Kariel was doing and warned him to be careful with magic, since Humans are so afraid of it, but, like I said, he doesn't take advice very well. Can't blame him, though."

"Who are you, really?" Riander asked, narrowing his eyes. The minstrel sounded too wise and looked too young.

"I am not Human, if you really want to know." Aedwyr grinned. "I'm a shape-shifter."

"Kariel's father?"

Aedwyr nodded. "Estranged father, I think. But we don't really stick together as happy families like Humans do. I came to warn him that staying for too long in one place is quite dangerous for any of us magic users, but again, he didn't take it well. Maybe I should have stuck to him a little longer, but I preferred putting some distance between me and Ker Eziel. The spell I put on Rithvik took some toll."

So that was the sorcerer, wizard, whatever that had put a prince consorting with demons to sleep. Riander gaped at the young man by his side and wondered what he really looked like.

"Trust me, you don't want to know," Aedwyr whispered, leaning towards him, as if reading his mind. "Thanks for the pastries. I better go before my son goes on some mad rampage and kills everyone in this castle. Not that he's like Rithvik, but well... you never know with half-bloods!"

The minstrel winked and left the table, leaving Riander even more puzzled than he'd been. So there was some truth to Kariel's magic. Much like he himself had a faery godmother, Kariel had a magical father. Impressively daunting. But it still made him want to know more about Kariel, see him again, talk some more.

Riander finished his breakfast and went to the chamberlain again.

"Any idea of when the king will be available?" he asked.

"He is locked up in his chambers," the chamberlain apologized. "Would you like to wait for him in the rose garden? It is a pleasant day to be outside..."

Riander nodded regally. Danhin followed him, frowning but finally silent.

***

Nerian sat on the stone outside of the cave, careful not to activate the mechanism that opened the door, and huffed. He was sore from exercising with the dwarves and he was glad to get a breath of fresh air, while they bickered inside over who would cook today.

Songbirds chirped, hidden in the trees, while woodpeckers chipped away at the bark of the closest trees. It wasn't easy to spot any of them, so Nerian didn't try to interrupt their conversations, but simply sat there, breathing in the cool air of the forest and watching the leaves move around him.

He was tired but happy. The company was amazing, but after some time tiresome. He wasn't used to having people around all the time. Not anymore. Blame it on that bastard Kariel, I've become some kind of hermit! I'm glad Alech and his men are so patient with me!

Barely two days with them, and he already felt at home. A strange, windowless home, but home nevertheless. Warmer than his tower had ever been, as warm as his old room had been when his father was alive.

A huntsman emerged from the undergrowth, startling him. It wasn't Roddyn, the man who was supposed to kill him. Nerian had never seen that handsome face and rose with his heart beating faster, his hand on the dagger the dwarves had given him.

"You're very quiet, sir, who are you?" he asked, trying to look more fierce than he felt. He knew he only had to touch the opening mechanism and seven warring dwarves would come and help him, dispatching the stranger in no time.

"I'm Riander of Ker Garenn, and I got lost while hunting in the forest," the man answered with a bow of the head. "And you are?"

"Nerian of Ker Daragon," Nerian answered, still wary. He knew that name, but had never met the neighboring royal family. "I believe your castle is that way." He pointed towards the forest to the right of Riander who had emerged in the clearing from the left, much like he had done, coming from Ker Daragon.

"Thank you." The king flashed a dazzling smile at him. "Would you like to come with me?"

"What?" Nerian's eyes widened in surprise.

"Would you like to come with me to Ker Garenn?" Riander repeated. "You'd be safe from that dreadful Sorcerer King..."

Nerian blinked, not sure of what to think. The voice sounded somehow familiar, but he couldn't place it. The man was handsome and he felt attracted to King Riander, but something was off. The brown eyes staring at him as if undressing him made him uneasy.

Riander stepped forward with a smile. He was slightly taller than Nerian, and had more muscles.

"I will protect you from evil, my little prince," the king whispered, taking Nerian in his arms. "If you let me, I'll make you happy..."

Nerian stammered incoherent words. Those lips that shone... and came closer... and kissed him... Nerian closed his eyes under his first kiss. Riander's tongue invaded his mouth. He shivered and passed out.

3. Red as Blood

The roses' perfume was starting to give Riander a headache. Danhin was finally quiet, allowing him to think. The garden was beautiful but dangerous, much like the owner of the castle.

I have been stupid, Riander thought, frowning at the memories of the day before. He'd been enchanted by Kariel's words and had probably drunk too much wine before retiring to bed, which had made him weak.

Yes, he had enjoyed the sex, but... now he felt uneasy. Had he liked the new experience too much? Was marrying whoever his council chose and keeping a male lover on the side really the solution to his problems?

No. He still wasn't so interested in sex that he'd do it every day. No matter with whom. As an introvert, he wasn't too fond of company. He should pick a bride and limit his husbandly duties. And no, a male lover wasn't the answer. Even though King Kariel had made him feel good for a few hours.

As he sat by a fountain, he stopped listening to the gurgling water to remember the words and then the lack of coherent words of the previous night. He was attracted to Kariel, but he wasn't in love. Or in lust. That hadn't changed. He'd enjoyed the new experience, but he still didn't understand what all the fuss about sex was about. Especially if it wasn't for reproductive purposes. Bed gymnastics were fun, but only to a point.

Kariel emerged from the castle in plain daylight, dressed in black like the day before. Riander wondered if the king always wore black, which was a depressing color in his eyes. He usually wore orange tunics to match his honey-colored eyes, or green when he went hunting.

"Good morning," Kariel greeted with a grin, stopping in front of him.

Riander rose and greeted back, staring intently at Kariel's face. He was perfectly sober now, and his curiosity had been satisfied, so he could see the Sorcerer King with a detached feeling – probably as Danhin had seen him in the first place. The minstrel's words also haunted him. Kariel was only half-Human. No wonder he was so powerful and long-lived.

"I thank you for your hospitality, but I really should go back to Ker Garenn," he said, not sure what to do with his hands.

"Please, stay a few more days. I'll send another messenger to your castle to warn them. Or you can send back your own servant. I'd love to have you here a little longer, so we could explore our friendship and tighten our bond..."

In spite of the gentle and slightly pleading tone, Riander saw hardness in Kariel's eyes. Maybe it was the plain daylight, being outside under the sun, but suddenly the Sorcerer King looked more dangerous than he'd thought. Because he had a charm Riander couldn't deny. A non-Human charm.

"I appreciate your offer, but I've been wandering way too much lately," he said. "I think it's time I make some important decisions. I must find a suitable princess and..."

Kariel scoffed. "Why should you marry if you don't feel like it?"

"Because I'm king and I must provide an heir to the throne," Riander answered bluntly. "And so should you."

"I wasn't born to be king, I'm told, therefore I don't care," Kariel retorted. "Please, stay. Let's have some more fun. I won't tell anyone."

Riander glared at him and checked where Danhin was. The servant had wandered away, unwilling to intrude in his master's matters. Good.

Riander looked at Kariel again and saw lust in the Sorcerer King's eyes. Not love, not friendship, pure lust.

"I appreciate the offer, and I indeed had fun last night, but I do not wish to repeat the experience," Riander said, straightening his back and balling his fists. "You are free to visit me, but I shall now bid you good-bye. My people are waiting for me."

He half-bowed and broke eye contact with Kariel.

"Danhin!" he called, heading for the door that went back into the castle. The servant eagerly followed him to the stables, still silent, and they both climbed into their saddles.

Before leaving Ker Daragon, Riander turned to look at Kariel, who stood in the castle's main doorway with his arms crossed over his chest and a dangerous frown.

Let's hope he doesn't hit me with a spell, Riander thought, waving briefly before spurring his horse. Surely he wouldn't dare. He is a usurper, and he can't kill a king... Of course he can. He already did. To take Ker Daragon. What a fool I am!

As the horses entered the forest, following the unpaved road at a trot, and the towers of Ker Daragon vanished behind them, Riander snorted. He was very conflicted about his stay at his neighbor's.

Somehow he had escaped a deadly trap. Would that bring war between Ker Daragon and Ker Garenn? Riander hoped his faery godmother would protect him from any evil spell trying to hit him. And he must ask her about Kariel's father – what kind of magical being was he?

"Thank you for leaving that wretched place, your majesty," Danhin said in a low voice.

"You were right, we shouldn't have gone there," he grumbled.

The road wasn't straight, but it was easier to use than going through the forest. And Riander could see the sky – no winged beings in sight. In a couple of hours he'd be home and he could forget his charming but scary neighbor, unless Kariel paid him a visit.

And then behind a bend they stopped, surprised, and so did the people coming towards them.

"Dwarves?" Danhin whispered, eyes wide in wonder.

Six dwarves carrying a crystal coffin, led by a seventh with a graying beard. Encumbered by their burden, they hadn't had time to vanish in the forest. Their surprised expressions soon turned to anger, but the leader gave a sharp order. They dropped the coffin that fell and broke, and ran for cover under the trees.

"Two men, albeit armed, put to flight seven dwarves!" Danhin chuckled.

"Unless they're getting their weapons," Riander replied, frowning.

The broken coffin had revealed a body inside – a Human body.

Riander jumped off the saddle and went to check. He saw the most beautiful young man he'd ever seen, with long black hair and pale skin. An androgynous beauty that showed he must be very young, since he had no traces of facial hair. Riander crouched next to the young man, gaping.

He touched the smooth cheek and found it cold. The skin was too pale. The chest wasn't moving. What a waste of a beautiful youth...

"Get away from him!" The dwarves were back, fully armed.

"He's dead, isn't he?" Riander said, feeling a pang in his chest.

"Yes, and we're taking him to his murderer," the gray-bearded one said. "So the people he's reigning over see what a bastard son of a dragon he is and get rid of him once and for all!"

"Would that be King Kariel?" Riander asked, since they were headed towards Ker Daragon. The bald dwarf nodded with a frown. "Who is he?"

"Nerian of Ker Daragon," the only clean-shaven dwarf answered bluntly. "He had managed to escape the tower where he'd been locked."

"How did Kariel get to him?"

"With his magic. He poisoned him."

"Oh." Riander stared at the dead youth. "Maybe he's not dead yet, if the poison is slow... I'll call my faery godmother!"

He jumped to his feet and closed his eyes, concentrating. Wild Rose, help me!

"Hello, Riander."

He opened his eyes and she was in front of him, her long blond hair shining in the sun, her pointed ears obvious in the light, her sky-blue eyes staring straight at him. He heard the dwarves gasp.

"A Genn!" one of them said as the others lowered their weapons.

Danhin watched from his saddle, holding Riander's reins.

"Hello, Alech." Wild Rose turned to look at the dwarves' leader. "What happened?"

"That bastard Kariel poisoned Nerian!" the old dwarf answered, shaking his battle-axe more in anger than to hurt anyone. "I don't think you can do much for him!"

"Let's see." Wild Rose knelt next to the pale young man and closed her eyes, passing her hands over the still body and stopping on the face and mouth. Golden powder flowed from her hands to the young prince's mouth and soon enough a sigh moved the youth's chest.

Wild Rose opened her eyes and smiled at Riander's worried expression.

"He'll be all right," she said. "The poison hadn't completely finished working... or not even I could have saved him."

"Thank you, Wild Rose." Riander smiled and bowed as she rose and stepped closer to him.

"You're welcome," she answered, caressing his cheek. "Stay safe." And she vanished as fast as she had appeared.

"You're Riander of Ker Garenn," the bald dwarf said, glaring at him.

"That I am," Riander answered with a nod. "I wasn't aware dwarves followed Human history."

"We don't, really, but we do have Genn neighbors. And Wild Rose told us about you."

Riander nodded, thoughtful.

"If Kariel wants Nerian dead, we should move out of the road and wait until the prince recovers... lest the Sorcerer King sees us and decides to make another attempt."

"He's right." The leader, Alech, signaled his men who took Nerian and quickly carried him into the forest. Riander took his horse's reins and followed them on foot, knowing it was useless to tell Danhin to go ahead to Ker Garenn. The faithful servant wouldn't leave his side.

The dwarves led them to a clearing where they pushed a mechanism that revealed a tunnel.

"You better leave the horses out here," Alech said gruffly.

"I shall join you shortly," Danhin said. "I need to relieve myself."

Riander smiled briefly at him and nodded before stooping to follow the dwarves into their secret cave.

***

Nerian had a very bad taste in his mouth as he stirred awake. He winced and flapped his eyelids open, finding seven dwarven faces leaning over him. Xhael immediately grinned.

"He's awake!" he told someone who wasn't in the circle.

Nerian blinked, feeling still quite numb and slow, gulping down the sour taste. But before he could ask for water, another face appeared behind the dwarves' and he choked on the request. The man who had kissed him! He jerked up, but Alech put a hand flat on his chest and kept him down.

"Don't move, boy, you're still recovering from the poison."

"P-poison?" Nerian stammered. How could the man give him a poisonous kiss and smile at him like that? "He did it!" he pointed a shaky finger at the man who stood behind the dwarves, towering over them all.

"Drink." Temai shoved a flask to his mouth and he gratefully downed the cool water inside.

Sighing in relief, he looked at the man again and saw him puzzled, no, worried.

"Will you let me sit up?" he snarled at the dwarves that held him down. "I'm fine!"

"You weren't fine when we found you outside, passed out," Alech replied somberly. But he gestured his men to let him go.

Nerian sat, but then went still as his head spun. He closed his eyes and shook his head to clear it. He felt Xhael's hands on his shoulders, keeping him up.

"I'm fine," he repeated, looking at the dwarves and then glaring at the man who looked relieved. "Why is he here? He's the one who poisoned me!"

"I didn't," the man said. "I first saw you in a crystal coffin, and called my faery godmother to heal you."

"He saved you," Alech confirmed. "Why do you say he's the one who poisoned you?"

"That's King Riander of Ker Garenn," Xhael added, whispering in his ear. "Your neighbor."

"I know who he is, he introduced himself," Nerian snapped.

"No, I didn't," Riander said, looking puzzled.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Soss waved his short arms. "The man who poisoned you, was he alone?"

"Well, yes," Nerian answered, surprised.

"Kings don't travel alone, ever," Yeni said gravely. "Royal blood can't go unattended."

"His servant is outside, relieving himself," Temai added.

"He was alone when he approached me!" Nerian insisted.

"Only Kariel travels alone," Alech said. "This is the real King Riander, Nerian. You met Kariel in disguise."

"But... but... he looked exactly like that!" Nerian protested.

King Riander looked as puzzled as he felt. "You mean the Sorcerer King can shift shape?"

"He hadn't so far. But he has it in his blood and since Nerian knows his face, he had to hide it, if he wanted to trick the prince," Alech said.

"I still don't understand how he poisoned you," Xhael said. "Did he offer you a poisoned fruit?"

Nerian blushed and stared at the ground. "He kissed me," he muttered.

He heard them gasp. He dared to glance at King Riander and saw him slowly smile.

"I wish I had done it," he heard the king say in a low voice.

Alech cleared his throat, glaring at King Riander. "I wasn't aware we should warn you to beware of strangers," he told Nerian.

"I did beware, but he took me by surprise!" Nerian replied. "I mean, he is handsome..."

He heard King Riander chuckle but kept his eyes on the captain of the dwarves.

"Mm, yes, you've been alone for too long," Alech said. "Now we better keep you locked in until we figure out how to get rid of the wicked half-blood who wants you dead so badly."

Nerian sighed. "I've been locked inside a tower for ten years," he whined. "And here there are no windows! Are you trying to kill me? I need air and sunlight!"

"Yes, your Sila blood yearns for air and sunlight, but we can't risk you getting killed," Temai said. "You're one of us, and we don't let wicked half-bloods have their way with us."

"Excuse me, how can I help?" King Riander asked. They'd forgotten about him. "I mean, I'll gladly give a hand to get rid of the Sorcerer King..."

"Why, he kissed you too?" Temai teased. King Riander averted his eyes.

"He's dangerous," he muttered. "I think I talked to his father as well." The dwarves oohed and aahed and cleared their throats. "Which helped me to see Kariel in a new light, I think. The Sorcerer King wanted me to stay at Ker Daragon, probably to convince me to give up my castle and my kingdom."

"Which you might end up doing anyway, but not to follow a sorcerer," Xhael said cheerfully. "I think you're the perfect companion for Nerian, here!" He ruffled the prince's hair.

"Hey!" Nerian protested, ducking in vain. "I don't need a companion!"

"You badly need one," Alech said. "And I don't see you spending the rest of your life in the company of dwarves." He turned to King Riander. "We thank you for your offer, Riander. But I'm afraid you can't do much. You've never tried to kill a dragon, have you?"

"I've never met one," King Riander admitted as Nerian gaped at Alech.

"Nasty beasts, those," Temai said with contempt. "Especially half-bloods."

"You mean Kariel is actually a dragon?" Nerian asked, incredulous.

"Half-dragon." Yeni shrugged. "None of us would be able to take on a pure-blood."

Nerian's shoulders slumped. He looked at Riander, hopeful, but the handsome king was thoughtful. Obviously the task was too much even for him. Nerian noticed that Riander had a sword at his side, even though he wore hunting clothes. He probably had all the warrior education he himself had missed.

Then their eyes met. In the warm light of the lamps, Nerian thought Riander had yellow eyes. Definitely not brown like the man who had kissed him. And even the smile that slowly curved those lips was different.

Nerian's heart started beating faster. Maybe kissing this Riander wouldn't be as disastrous as the previous one had been...

***

Riander wasn't sure, since the light in the cave was very warm and almost orange, but he thought Nerian had pale blue eyes. He wondered what they looked like outside, under the sun and a clear blue sky. Awake, the young man was even more charming, even though not much color had come back to his cheeks.

Riander sat on the ground with the dwarves and the prince, asking for more information on the Sorcerer King who had used his face to trick his victim. Bastard, you'll pay for what you've done! He wasn't going to fall for Kariel's charm ever again.

Nerian was barely starting to learn weapons, so he'd probably be completely useless in battle. The dwarves seemed fierce, though, with their strange weapons. Their captain tried to come up with a strategy that would corner Kariel and force him to use his magic or die.

"Shouldn't we prevent him from using his magic?" Riander asked, frowning in worry. "I mean, do you have weapons that allow you to beat magic?"

"Hell yes!" Two identical bearded dwarves shook their weapons with the same movement.

The bald dwarf groaned. "We should really send out word for Belfi, so he can help us and these two to get rid of Kariel!"

"Or we can see if Runedemon is still around," the eldest said, thoughtful. "Kariel has never shifted shape before, but if he has spoken to his father..."

"Would his father whip him into obedience or side with him?" Riander asked.

"Probably neither." The clean-shaven dwarf shrugged. "Fajrulo never care for their relatives. He might have come this way out of curiosity, to see what his son was doing, but he's not going to interfere with his life."

"Fajrulo?" Nerian asked, eyes wide in wonder.

"The Magical Races." Alech smiled. "You have Sila blood, Riander has Genn blood, then there's the Fajrulo and the Waiora. Air, Ether, Fire and Water. Humans have Earth."

"And what do dwarves have?" Nerian insisted.

"Earth, I guess," the clean-shaven dwarf said. "The Immortals don't seem to care for us much, but since we live underground... with the Genn, now..."

"The Genn used to live in the Moren Empire," Riander said, remembering his history lessons. "And I think the Waiora too."

"Yes, they had a joint kingdom in what is now the land of the descendants of the last Moren Emperor."

"The Blackmoren." Riander nodded. "And the Sila?"

"Winged beings!" one of the bearded ones said. "Nerian can talk to birds."

Riander stared impressed at the young prince who blushed and looked away. So Nerian was close to those winged beings he'd been following...

His stomach rumbled. "How about we eat something, get some rest and make plans with the new day?" he said, rising. "Where the hell is Danhin? We should let the horses free for the night. They won't wander very far, especially if you can provide some hay..."

"Right, who's cooking today?" Alech looked at his men and the two identical ones rose with sighs, heading for the kitchen implements in the other corner of the cave. Riander briefly smiled at Nerian who was still seated on the ground and followed the bald dwarf outside to call Danhin, a little worried now at the absence of his faithful servant. It was taking Danhin way too long to relieve himself – he had never left the king alone for more than a few moments.

***

Nerian watched the tall, handsome king follow Temai outside, then realized he was gaping when Xhael closed his mouth by putting a finger under his chin. The clean-shaven dwarf winked and offered his hand to help Nerian on his feet.

"I want to be like him," Nerian whispered, excited.

"I'm sure he'll take you under his wing," Xhael replied, patting his hand.

"He'll teach me how to use a sword?"

"And to be king."

"I'm not sure I want my father's throne, Xhael..."

Nerian felt steady now – no more dizziness or sour taste in his mouth – and he rushed after Riander. He found Temai sitting on the stone that he'd used too and watched as Riander walked to another man who was standing next to two horses on the other side of the clearing.

"That's his personal servant," the bald dwarf said. "Royalty doesn't go around unaccompanied."

"Except Kariel," Nerian muttered with a frown.

"Kariel isn't royalty," Alech replied. He had followed them and was staring at the king of Ker Garenn and his man with a frown. "Not one ounce."

"And that guy must have a very weak bladder or is an awful servant," Temai continued. "I wonder if Ker Garenn is trying to get rid of its king!"

"I'm sure they know his faery godmother," Alech said, sarcastic emphasis on the word. "Riander is as untouchable as Kariel for the silly Humans."

"At least he's the legitimate king." Temai shrugged.

"True." Nerian called himself stupid for forgetting that. Kariel was the usurper. He didn't have one ounce of royal blood. He could tell the difference with the real Riander now. The way the real king carried himself was different from the sorcerer.

Riander came towards them, followed by the other man who must be slightly older and kept his eyes low. He also kept his mouth shut, probably out of respect for his king.

"You shouldn't be up and out, Prince Nerian," Riander chided, stopping in front of him.

"The fresh air helps," he assured, straightening his back. He was slightly shorter than the king. He remembered how the huntsman-king had approached him – Kariel in disguise – and taken him in his arms. And under the daylight, Riander's eyes were definitely honey-colored.

"Good, let's eat, then." The king's smile was dazzling. "This is my personal servant, Danhin, who for once has no complaints."

Nerian glanced at the man, but he couldn't keep his eyes off Riander's handsome face. From the corner of his eye, he saw the servant lunge at him and a blade stabbed him under the ribs, making him scream in pain and double over.

"Danhin!" Riander shouted.

Nerian collapsed on the ground against Alech and Xhael. The captain of the dwarves called his men while Temai jumped on the shoulders of the servant, roaring in anger, his dagger ready. Nerian realized Danhin held a knife with the blade still dripping blood – his blood.

Panting, he lay against Xhael's torso while Alech pressed a handkerchief against the wound to stop the blood. Temai had disarmed the servant, throwing him to the ground.

"Danhin, how could you!" Riander was furious.

"It's not Danhin," Alech said from his crouched position. His men surrounded the servant with their weapons ready. The twins smelled the forest air and went straight to a group of bushes from under which they dragged out the body of a man identical to the one that had attacked Nerian.

"Danhin!" Riander's voice was full of anguish now. The servant was dead with his throat cut. Riander turned to the man who had been captured, furious. "You wicked monster..."

Nerian gasped in both pain and surprise as the man's features shifted and Kariel's face appeared. So that was how he had tricked him into a kiss! The Sorcerer King had true magic!

"Quiet," Xhael whispered. "You're wounded."

Nerian held his breath, trying to calm his growing panic. Temai was probably cursing in an unknown language, which only made Kariel laugh with scorn.

"Well, Riander, would you prefer me this way?" He rose and shifted face again, taking on Nerian's features. "Should I look at you as adoringly as he does?"

He pretended to do it, and it was jarring to see your own face acting. The voice was still Kariel's – that was probably why it had felt familiar when the fake Riander had talked to him, and why the fake Danhin had kept his mouth shut.

Riander gritted his teeth and slapped the Sorcerer King with Nerian's face. Kariel resumed his face and scoffed.

"I should really get you drunk again," he said. "You're much sweeter when you're drunk."

Riander slowly unsheathed his sword and pointed it at Kariel. "Stay away from me," he said through clenched teeth.

"Or? I didn't give you poisonous kisses, why the sudden hatred? Have you already tasted those luscious lips, that you already changed your mind?"

"I haven't fallen in love with you any more than you did with me," Riander retorted. "It was just a fun way to spend the night. You killed my servant. You're trying to kill the rightful heir of Ker Daragon. You want to get into my bed..."

"Your pants are enough. I'd rather take you to my bed." Kariel crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. "So what are you going to do to punish me?"

Riander swirled his sword with a single movement of his wrist, but Kariel didn't shrink back, keeping his stare locked onto Riander's. The tip of the blade touched Kariel's exposed throat, but again the Sorcerer King didn't move.

"I think I should kill you," Riander said in a low, threatening voice.

My hero! Nerian remembered to breathe. He'd love to have that man taking care of him until the end of time.

"You can try," Kariel replied.

Xhael gently put Nerian against the rock, so he could be free to move, signaling him to be quiet. The dwarves surrounded the two men with their weapons ready. Nerian remained where he was, pressing Alech's handkerchief on his wound that seemed to have stopped bleeding. He was dizzy again, so he didn't try to get up and help the experienced warriors.

"Unsheathe your sword." Riander took his blade away from Kariel's throat and waited.

"You shouldn't have given him the chance!" Soss shouted angrily.

Kariel smiled, elegantly unsheathing his sword. "Ever killed anyone, Riander?" he asked.

"There's always a first time," Riander answered, holding his sword-hilt tighter.

Oh Gods, Kariel is a skilled swordsman! Nerian thought, filling with panic again. He'd often seen the Sorcerer King exercising in the courtyard from the tower window. He tried to rise, but managed only to sit more straight. He was too weak to stop them. Xhael glanced at him and nodded, determined. They'd help King Riander to defeat evil Kariel.

The two men walked in the circle of the seven dwarves studying each other, swords ready. Riander attacked first, and Kariel parried and struck back. Riander avoided the blade and swirled to strike again. Nerian stared with eyes wide as the duel went on, with the dwarves nervously moving around them and keeping them in a narrow fighting space.

Kariel's blade sliced Riander's left arm, which seemed only to infuriate the king of Ker Garenn, who gritted his teeth and attacked so swiftly that his sword stabbed Kariel through the ribs, probably barely missing the heart.

Kariel screamed in pain and dropped his sword.

"Stay back!" Alech screamed, grabbing Riander's hand.

The king fell back, still panting, as Kariel transformed once again. Under Nerian's incredulous eyes, the man's form grew into a huge animal form – a black dragon of legends that screamed in pain and anger before moving his long neck and trying to bite Riander's head off. Riander's sword, previously stuck in a human chest, fell off and was covered by the dark-brown belly of the big body.

The seven dwarves held the toothy head at bay with their pole-arms and battle-axes as Riander tried to get out of the way, unable to fight such an opponent. The mortal wound wasn't visible on the scaly body, but it was obviously still there. The dragon's attempts became weaker and finally the neck and head crashed to the ground before the dragon even tried to open its bat-like wings.

The dwarves fell silent as Riander stared wide-eyed at the dragon's body that slowly went back to its human form. One last twitch and Kariel was still, eyes wide open, chest covered in blood. He lay next to Riander's still bloodied sword and his own for a moment, and then vanished in a puff of magic fire that didn't burn, making Riander and Nerian gasp.

"W-what was that?" Nerian asked as Xhael and Yeni rushed to him and helped him to sit up.

"His Fajrulo blood," Alech said gloomily. "Magical Races don't leave corpses."

Riander retrieved his sword and put it back into the scabbard. Then he picked up Kariel's sword and weighed it.

"We found a sword for Nerian!" Soss said cheerfully while Alech offered Riander a scarf to wrap around his left arm. The king had barely a flesh wound and he set the sword on a stone to bandage his arm, absent-minded.

"We better tend that wound," Temai said gruffly, pointing at Nerian's bloodied hand that was still pressing the handkerchief on the wound. "Take him inside, guys."

The twins had already rushed back to the cave, probably to check on the food. Riander gave the sword to Soss and helped Nerian to go back inside and lie down on his cot.

"Thank you," Nerian whispered, grateful, finally relaxing in the dwarves' care.

Riander smiled and backed away, leaving the diminutive men taking care of the wounded prince.

***

Riander tucked Nerian's blanket and lightly brushed the raven hair of the youth before pulling away from the cot. He met Alech's eyes and smiled sheepishly.

"He's sleeping," he whispered.

Riander knew Nerian would be all right. He didn't need to call his godmother again, the dwarves' medicine would work as well, if slower. "Thank you for taking care of him."

"We didn't really do it for you." Xhael winked and grinned. "We're quite fond of him ourselves."

Riander had learned all the dwarves' names during the cheerful meal that had closed the encounter with the Sorcerer King. Now that Nerian was asleep, his own arm bandaged and the cut sewn closed by blue-eyed Soss, he had another duty to attend, though.

He rose. "I need to bury Danhin," he said. "Check on the horses. And then may I come back in here to get some sleep?"

"We don't have a bed your size, but we'll throw some blankets on the ground for you," Alech said. "Ikeli and Losik will help you deal with your servant's body."

Riander nodded and the twins followed him outside with torches. The forest was wrapped in darkness and only night animals could be heard. The horses had moved a little farther in search of food, but they came back towards the light and Temai gave them an armful of hay to nibble on for the night. There wasn't much grass in the forest anyway, so the hay was very welcome for the nervous animals.

Ikeli and Losik had brought spades to dig a hole in the clearing. Riander took off his sword-belt and helped them to prepare a final resting place for his faithful servant. Danhin had died too early and Inetina would never marry him.

Riander composed the corpse in the hole and stayed on his knees for a moment, praying for the soul of his servant, then the twins started to cover it with earth. Riander found a bigger stone and carved Danhin's initial on it, setting it over the shallow grave with a final prayer.

Then he followed the twins back into the cavern, checking one last time that the horses were all right. Xhael pointed him to a makeshift bed and he suddenly felt very tired. With one last glance at the pale, sleeping face of Nerian, he lay down and closed his eyes.

He woke up with the chatter of men in a foreign tongue. He opened his eyes and saw only the dwarves were up and about, preparing breakfast and doing their chores, bickering in low voices so they wouldn't wake up their guests.

Riander sat and stretched his limbs, yawning. Nerian was still peacefully asleep, and some color had returned to his cheeks. Xhael turned to look at him and smiled.

"Good morning, your majesty. Hope you slept well."

"One night on the floor won't kill me," he answered, rising and approaching the fireplace where water was boiling. Soss offered him a mug of herbal tea and some sugar.

"You don't need to drink it as is, like Nerian," he said gruffly.

"Why, Nerian likes his tea sour?" Riander asked, sitting on the ground to pour some sugar in the tea.

"No, but if he wants to get better, he better drink it sour this morning," Soss answered.

Riander smiled. "When do you think he'll be able to travel?" he asked, since the blue-eyed dwarf seemed to be the physician in the group of dwarves.

"A couple of days." Soss shrugged. "He's young, he'll recover soon. If you're in a hurry to leave, you can always call your godmother."

"No, I'm not in a hurry," Riander said, thoughtful, sipping his tea. "I'm not sure what to do next."

Alech came forward. "Go back to your castle? Your people are probably worried sick about your well-being..."

"How do you know all these things about the world if you never go very far from this cave?" Riander wondered.

"Our Sila friends tell us stories. They've seen it all."

The Sila. The winged beings. Riander wondered if he'd be allowed to meet them while he waited for Nerian to recover.

"No, they don't like Humans," Alech said as if he'd read his mind. "They wouldn't want to meet you. Or Nerian, even though he has Sila blood."

"How did that happen then?" Riander asked, disappointed. "I mean, if the Sila don't come near us, how could they have a half-blood offspring..."

"Sometimes they do get in touch with Humans." Temai shrugged. "If they're short-sighted for their standards, they might befriend some Human."

"They never came here while I was with them," Nerian's voice startled them. He was awake and sat on the cot, staring at Riander with his pale blue eyes. Soss rushed to him with the sour tisane and told him to drink it. Nerian obeyed but kept looking at Riander.

"Ah, well, never mind." Riander sighed. "I guess I should stop chasing wild geese... and make my council happy. Will you help Nerian become the king he's supposed to be?"

"We don't like Humans much, not in great quantities," Soss said, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"We will take him back to Ker Daragon," Alech added. "But he'll have to deal with a council, much like you."

"I'll never be able to do it!" Nerian complained. "May I come to Ker Garenn to see how it's done?"

"I think you should go back to your castle," Riander replied, thoughtful. "I'm sure your people will welcome you back with open arms."

"They haven't seen me for ten years!" The youth seemed on the verge of panic. "They might not recognize me!"

"And that's why we're escorting you there," Xhael said, patting his shoulder. "If they don't want you, we take you to Ker Garenn."

Nerian sighed and looked pleadingly at Riander.

"It is best for us both," Riander said. "I will help you find a suitable bride..."

"Hey, he's still young, you're the one who should get married, like, yesterday!" Soss said. "Why don't you ask Wild Rose to send a Genn to Ker Garenn? She'd make a lovely queen and wouldn't suffer all the jealousy Human women are prone to!"

"Can I have a winged queen, then?" Nerian asked, staring hopeful at Soss.

"No, Nerian, no Sila for you."

"Wait, unless there's some short-sighted female..." Ikeli said.

"We'll go to the Sila nest and ask," Losik added.

"Just imagine, two Human kingdoms with Magical Races members' queens!" Xhael laughed out loud. "Never going to happen!"

"Not with the Sila, no," Soss said. "With the Genn, who knows."

Riander had never considered consulting his faery godmother about marriage. Maybe it was time to go home and call her for advice.

4. Yellow as Honey

Nerian "inherited" Kariel's sword and Danhin's horse as soon as his wound got better. Riander had left to go back to Ker Garenn, leaving him with the dwarves who now contemplated the tall animal with thoughtful expressions.

"It's all right that you go back on horseback," Alech said.

"But there's no way we can keep up with you," Temai added.

"We can't let him go on his own!" Xhael protested.

Nerian glanced gratefully at him. The clean-shaven dwarf seemed to be very fond of him.

"There were no Sila volunteers," Ikeli said.

"Nor would a Sila as escort keep him safe," Losik added.

Soss scoffed. "As if Sila could protect him," he muttered.

Yeni scratched his beard. "We really should get Belfi, guys. He's the most appropriate to take Nerian back."

Nerian crouched to be at the dwarves' height, frowning with worry.

"Don't leave me with a stranger!" he pleaded. "I should have followed King Riander to his castle!"

"He could have provided you an escort," Alech said. "Well, get on that saddle, we'll take you to the road between the castles and will go from there."

Nerian sighed. He wasn't much of a rider. He had barely started his warrior education, which meant he could barely use a sword and he'd been too small to get on a saddle when his father had been killed.

The twins held the reins while Alech motioned him towards the saddle. Nerian went to the horse and patted it warily.

"Don't unsaddle me," he muttered.

"Don't worry, it's a mare, not a war stallion," Yeni said with a chuckle.

Nerian grabbed the saddle pommel and put one foot in the stirrup before climbing on the horse. From the saddle, the dwarves looked even shorter and he felt like a giant.

"Hold on tight," Ikeli said as Losik pulled the reins and made the horse move.

Nerian swayed and held the pommel with both hands. And then a memory came back – him as a child on his father's horse, with his father's arms wrapped around him, keeping him still. He closed his eyes and let the dwarves lead the horse away from the clearing and the cave.

Soon his escort started singing as they marched forward, leading the horse by its reins. Nerian smiled and looked at them, trying to catch the lyrics, but they sang in a foreign tongue, probably their own. Still, the melody was catchy and he started humming the refrain when it came along.

They reached the unpaved road across the forest and stopped on the side. Signs of wagon and cart wheels showed it was well traveled. Donkeys, oxes and horses also left their tracks in the dust, along with some human feet. The birds were quiet here, as if they felt they were too close to the Humans' realm – not the safest place for them, Nerian knew.

Alech looked left and right along the empty road.

"That way is Ker Daragon." He pointed to the right. "And that way is Ker Garenn." He pointed to the left. "We could come with you, but we'd rather not. Maybe you should follow the road to Ker Garenn and ask King Riander to have you escorted back."

"Or you could boldly go back to your father's castle and claim your father's throne," Temai said, shaking his battle-axe. "It is your rightful place!"

"I doubt anyone would recognize me," Nerian grumbled. "Kariel kept me locked in a tower..." He thought about the huntsman who has spared his life. And the servant who brought him meals, always the same man. "Although maybe someone does know me..." He pursed his lips. "I don't know what to do!" he complained. "Why can't I stay with you guys a little longer? Maybe King Riander will come back to the cave and take me with him!"

The dwarves exchanged glances and smirks. Alech cleared his throat.

"Nerian, we made an exception for you. We don't like Humans. We don't want Humans around. You were in need, and we helped you. Now you can stand on your own. You're nineteen, Nerian. If you think you can't make it, Ker Garenn is that way. I'm sure King Riander will keep you under his wing until you're more self-confident."

Nerian sighed. One part of him really wanted to see his hero again and let Riander take care of him until the end of time. But another part of him reminded him he was prince heir of Ker Daragon and he owed it to his people to go back. Even though nobody had done anything to try and free him from the tower.

Someone appeared from the bend in the road on the side that led to Ker Garenn, making the dwarves grunt and prepare their weapons. Startled, Nerian looked that way as Yeni exclaimed, "It's Belfi!"

Now the dwarves all sounded excited. They put down the weapons and waved at the approaching traveler who waved back. Nerian's keen eyes saw an androgynous young man with very long, wavy, dark-blond hair held still to cover the ears with a headband. The newcomer had traveling clothes, a walking stick and a sword by his side. His smile was very sweet, almost boyish as he approached with long strides of his lean legs.

The dwarves rushed to greet and surround him, and Nerian watched with a little envy how friendly they were with the newcomer. And they said they didn't like Humans. And then Belfi's brown eyes fell on him, and the young man smiled openly.

"Hello, Nerian," he said. "Riander told me you might need me. And Alech had sent out word for me a few days ago."

"Who are you?" Nerian asked, a little wary.

"I'm Belfi, the immortal half-blood." The other took out the headband and showed off pointed ears, much like Riander's faery godmother. "I'm a magic user."

Nerian remembered the dwarves had mentioned him when talking about Nerian's education with swords.

"So will you take me to Ker Daragon and keep me safe?" he asked.

"Of course." Belfi came closer. "Can you ride?"

"Not really," Nerian muttered, eyes low.

Belfi mounted behind him and grabbed the reins from smiling Ikeli's hand. Again Nerian felt like when his father was alive and took him on his saddle for short rides around the courtyard.

"Thank you, Alech," Belfi said. "See you around."

"Thank you, Belfi," the dwarf captain replied. "Take care of our little prince."

"I will take him back to his castle safe and sound. And if his castle is not safe, I shall whisk him back to Ker Garenn where Riander is expecting him," Belfi promised. And he spurred the horse, holding Nerian who almost fell off at the sudden movement.

Nerian tried to look back to say good-bye to the dwarves, but Belfi had pushed the horse to a trot and he was sick already. "Bye, guys!" he shouted, leaning against Belfi's chest. A chorus of replies made him grin and relax in Belfi's embrace.

***

"Belfi is taking Nerian home," Wild Rose said, sitting on the corner of Riander's desk in the king's small office. "Don't worry, the prince will be fine."

"Thanks," Riander said, relaxing in his seat. "You never cease to amaze me. How you respond to my calls, how you communicate with other members of the Magical Races..."

"It's through our minds and our intrinsic magic." She smiled. "You'll need something physical." She offered him a crystal. "As soon as Belfi takes Nerian home, he'll give him something similar, so you'll be able to talk without leaving your respective castles."

"Thank you!" Riander took the crystal and looked at it more closely. "How does this work?"

"It's a magic transmitter. It's small, but you'll be able to see and hear Nerian." She shrugged. "That's all I can do for you, since you're so worried for the prince of Ker Daragon."

Riander thanked her again and put down the crystal.

"I'm worried for him because he wasn't trained to be king," he said, thoughtful. "If I find it hard, it must be much worse for him! If he were a woman, I'd marry her and unite the kingdoms, but..."

"You don't want even more people under your rule." She grinned. "You have enough trouble as is."

"True." He smiled sheepishly. "How do you do it? Without a king, I mean?"

He knew the Genn had lost their kingdoms centuries ago and wondered how they managed their hidden underground towns.

"A council of elders if there's some decision-making, otherwise we just live in harmony," she replied, amused. "But then, we were never violently possessive like Humans."

Riander sighed. "So do you think I should get married and breed?"

"It would help make your subjects feel more secure. Not that your neighbors seem to want your lands, but you never know."

"What if I give the power to someone more suited than me?"

"Your poor father will come back and haunt you," Wild Rose teased. "He raised you to be king, not to give up your inheritance."

"I know, but..." Another sigh.

In spite of meeting the Sorcerer King and fighting him, he still didn't feel like he deserved his throne. He wished he could leave and look for the Magical Races – see the underground Genn towns, the Sila nests, the Waiora underwater dwellings...

Except none of them wanted a Human in their midst. Not even the Genn. Wild Rose visited him, but never suggested he come and live with her.

"You're finding excuses because you don't want the intimacy of sex," Wild Rose said, serious now. "It should come naturally to you, but you're one of the rare Humans who can't be bothered. Which should make you a better king, since you're not obsessed with fucking everything that moves."

"Wild Rose!" he protested, blushing. That wasn't how he saw himself. He'd rather stay in his little office or in the castle library all day instead of dealing with people and royal matters. His council had scolded him for spending the night at Ker Daragon, and the death of poor Danhin, and now a bodyguard stood outside his every door at all hours.

She chuckled and caressed his cheek. "You're a fine king, Riander. Don't worry, you'll be all right."

A knock on the door startled him. Wild Rose blew him a kiss and vanished with an instant transfer spell that made him gasp, in spite of the fact that he was used to seeing her come and go that way.

"Yes?" He looked at the door and the guard let in a beautiful young woman with a brown braid of hair and an elegant light blue gown that matched her sapphire earrings and necklace. "Lady Viona," Riander greeted with a nod.

She smiled and curtsied before approaching his desk. "Your majesty, I was wondering if you'd like to see what we prepared for the homecoming banquet. It is almost dinnertime and I believe you've spent too much time working too hard to catch up for the few days you've been away."

"Well, it's true that I was starting to be hungry," he replied, standing and walking around the desk to join her. Lady Viona was the sister of Duke Arias, the youngest of his counselors who was only two years older than him but had a wife and four children. Other members of the council had suggested the king consider marrying Lady Viona, but he was still trying to find another princess outside of Ker Garenn.

He offered his arm to her and they left his office to go back to the great hall, where everybody was gathered. He'd been back the day before, but having arrived unannounced, there had been no time to set up a homecoming banquet.

His nobles and servants cheered him, especially seeing him next to Lady Viona, who smiled proudly. Riander left her with her brother and took his seat at the head of the table, nodding at everyone as he passed by them.

"Thank you all for this warm welcome," he said. "I'm sorry I worried you and I promise I'll do my best to fulfill my duties as soon as possible. I will choose a bride before the winter comes."

More cheers and applause welcomed his short speech. He nodded with a smile and waved so the servants could start bringing in the food. Chatter filled the great hall, making him feel slightly uneasy, but he managed to keep a smiling face.

Crowds would always make him uneasy. But his people were so happy to have him back, he couldn't avoid the festivities. He imagined his wedding banquet would be almost like this. If he found a proper bride.

His eyes met Lady Viona's and she smiled mischievously at him. He'd known her for years, even kissed her very awkwardly a summer of many years ago, but neither had liked it at the time. Was it possible she wanted to give him another chance? Did she really think he had changed?

Maybe she had changed and now had the experience they'd both lacked in their teens... Somehow the thought was comforting. She wasn't a stranger and maybe being intimate with her wouldn't be too bad...

***

Nerian felt his heart beat faster when the tower he'd been locked in for ten years came into view. He shifted uncomfortably on the saddle, looking forward to getting off the damn horse. He hoped he wouldn't have to do too much riding as a king.

And then the road bent and the castle appeared in full view, with its five narrow, round towers connected by tall, vast walls. The tallest of the five had been Nerian's prison and it still held the castle flag with his father's coat-of-arms.

The moderate gate with massive wooden doors was wide open and offered a safe home to all those in need at the base of the mountains, but it was not the only way in when you knew the castle's secret passages.

"My father showed me once the entrance of the emergency escape, but I'm not sure I can find it again," Nerian said as Belfi slowed the horse to a slower gait after trotting from the place where they'd left the dwarves.

"Alech knows the way in from the other side, but he thought you should go back from the main entrance," the half-blood replied. "The dwarves have expanded that single tunnel and the Genn know it too. They never use it, of course, not the part under the castle, at least..."

Nerian turned to look at Belfi, puzzled. The half-blood grinned.

"The castle is very old, Nerian, and the secret passage hasn't been used in more than a century, what did you expect?"

"Nothing," Nerian muttered as the horse reached the drawbridge. The guards stared at him with a mix of curiosity and boredom. He wondered if any of them had been posted behind his door on the tower.

Belfi stopped the horse in the courtyard and dismounted nimbly while Nerian struggled to get off the saddle. His thighs and ass hurt after only a couple of hours of riding. He really had to work out a lot to stop aching for any new movement he made.

Nerian looked around the courtyard, frowning with worry. But then he saw the huntsman who had dragged him out of the tower staring at him and gaping. He smiled weakly at the man and made a tentative greeting wave with his hand. What was his name again? Roddyn, yes. That was it.

Roddyn came forward and he wondered if he should head for the great hall.

"Prince Nerian!" The huntsman bowed and kept staring at him with wide eyes. "You promised not to come back!"

"Don't worry, Roddyn, the Sorcerer King will not punish you this time," Nerian answered, his voice shaky at first.

"You don't know how wicked he is..."

"He can't punish you, Roddyn, he's dead," Nerian assured, looking the man in the eyes. "King Riander killed him."

"Oh." The huntsman exhaled in relief and smiled. "Welcome back, Prince Nerian." He waved at the castle main door and the great hall. "Please take your father's seat. We are happy to have you back."

Nerian nodded, still frowning with worry, and headed for the castle and the great hall. The servant that used to bring him his meals gasped at the sight of him and bowed deeply. Nerian heard Roddyn gathering everyone as he reached the great hall and headed straight to his father's wooden throne, now empty.

"Wait, what do you think you're doing?" The captain of the guard stopped him before he climbed on the dais.

"I am Prince Nerian, rightful heir to Ker Daragon," Nerian replied proudly.

The man scoffed. "Prince Nerian is dead. The Sorcerer King will come back soon and I'd run away now if I were you." A gloved hand caressed Nerian's cheek. "I believe he'll find you to his tastes and take you to his bed as soon as he sees you."

"He can't," Nerian snapped, glaring at the oblivious captain. "Kariel is dead. He's not coming back. You better bow to me before I find myself another captain of the guard."

"He is Prince Nerian," Roddyn said, entering the great hall, followed by a crowd of castle workers. The servant that had had access to the tower nodded.

An elderly counselor came forward and turned Nerian towards the light of the windows. Nerian let the old man observe him, trying to stay calm. A glance at Belfi's smile was enough to make him feel safe. He was fine. It was fair that his people got to meet him anew. He'd been locked up for ten years after all.

"Mm, I see Queen Nerina in you," the old man said with a smile. "Yes, you must be Prince Nerian. May the gods be blessed! You survived the wicked usurper!"

"Thanks to Roddyn," Nerian replied. "I'm willing to give him the post of captain of the guard to reward him for sparing me."

The captain pulled away and bowed submissively. "I'm sorry, your highness, I wasn't aware you were still among us."

"I'm back and I hope you still want me as your king," Nerian said, climbing on the dais and addressing the audience.

Cheers led by Roddyn confirmed his people's will to have him on his father's throne. Smiling, relieved, he nodded and sat on the throne. Soon he'd have to wear a golden crown and lead those people into the future.

A hint of panic made him look at Belfi who nodded his approval.

"Your highness, can you tell us how King Riander dispatched the usurper?" Roddyn asked.

Nerian brightened as he excitedly recounted the final fight with Kariel. And then he had to tell them how he'd escaped the tower, and about the dwarves, and...

Night fell on Ker Daragon and servants set up tables so they could eat and celebrate well into the night. The rightful king was back. Tomorrow Nerian would be crowned. Nobody seemed to notice the androgynous half-blood keeping an eye on the young prince.

***

A couple of ravens' croaking calls awoke Riander from a dreamless sleep. He opened his eyes and saw the sun was up, but no servant had knocked on his door yet. He hadn't found a substitute for Danhin yet and he sighed, missing his faithful attendant's care.

Then he realized he wasn't alone in his bed, and that was probably why no servant had dared disturb him. He remembered the banquet the night before and leaving the great hall with Viona holding his arm and...

He hid his face in his hands. Much like at Ker Daragon, he hadn't been really drunk, but still willing to give sex another chance. Much like with Kariel, he had enjoyed the time with someone else, but the intimacy still made him uncomfortable. He didn't dare move for fear of waking her, still asleep by his side.

At least Kariel had woken up before him, sparing him this. He glanced at Viona's sleeping form and sighed again. Why couldn't he enjoy sex like everybody else? He'd had a couple of women in his life – his father had made sure he'd know what he was doing when he finally got married – but he still didn't like having them in his bed.

Yes, Viona had learned a lot since their awkward first kiss. And she had probably enjoyed the night more than he did. Maybe he should just marry her and make his council happy. But the thought of losing the freedom of sleeping alone...

She stirred and caressed his naked torso. "Morning, Riander," she grumbled, rubbing her naked body against his. "Thank you for not kicking me out last night."

"You're welcome," he muttered in return, trying to disentangle himself from her.

"You didn't like it." She stared at him, disappointed. "You don't like me."

"It's not you, it's me," he said. "I didn't like it, but not because it's you, it's because I don't like it."

"Do you prefer men?" She frowned in worry. "The council thinks so..."

He rolled his eyes. "Just because I allowed Kariel in my bed..."

"You what?" She jumped up, eyes wide in wonder. "Oh no!"

"It was just one night! What's the big deal? I still function, don't I? And I ended up killing him. So, there you go. First and last male lover of my life!"

Riander rose and put on a dressing gown. Of course he functioned, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it.

"Can you pass me my dress?" she asked.

He obeyed and saw she was frowning now.

"Really, Riander, will you ever choose a bride?"

"I don't know, Viona. Thank you for the night, but please, go now."

She quickly pulled on her gown, barely covering her body without bothering with laces and buttons, and rushed out of the room, still frowning. As soon as she left, the barber came in, his face impassive as if he hadn't just met the lady who had spent the night with the king.

At least the council would know. That he'd slept with Viona and Kariel. The pressure would probably get worse now. He glanced at the magic crystal on his bed table and wondered how Nerian was doing.

***

Nerian awoke with a sense of doom in his princely room. It was coronation day and tonight he'd sleep in his father's bed. He hadn't had time to get used to his old room and he was changing beds again.

He'd have a big double bed from tonight, though. He was excited at the prospect of having someone sleeping with him. The night before he had eyed lots of pretty faces in the banquet hall and all had smiled eagerly at him.

Heartened at the thought of finally having real sex, Nerian threw away the blankets and got out of bed. Servants started pouring in as soon as he opened the blinds of his room, helping him to dress and comb his long black hair.

He still didn't need to shave, but he didn't care. Thank the Gods the fashion was clean-shaven for noblemen, so he wouldn't have to grow a beard to be a respected king. Belfi came into the room as the servants left, having prepared him for the ceremony.

"Lord Ulric is ready to crown you," the half-blood announced. "As the eldest member of your council and a close friend of your late father, he looks forward to bestowing your inheritance on you. And then he'll probably have a long list of suitable maidens for you to choose from."

"You mean I must choose a bride as soon as I'm king?" Nerian asked, puzzled.

Belfi chuckled. "According to them, yes. But you can do like Riander and wait."

Nerian sighed.

"I wish I could talk to Riander... I'm sure his advice would be welcome!"

"I was instructed to give you this." Belfi offered him a crystal. "It's a magic crystal. It transmits images and words. I believe Riander has one too." He smiled impishly. "Wild Rose gave him one during her last visit."

Awed, Nerian took the crystal. "How does it work?"

"Think hard about Riander. It will tune to his crystal."

Nerian closed his eyes, holding the crystal tight in one hand.

"Hey, Nerian!" Riander's cheerful voice startled him. He stared amazed at the crystal that showed the king's smiling face. "You look great. Ready for your coronation, are you?"

"Yes!" Nerian gulped his excitement and his anxiety. "Can I talk to you when I'm done? I think my council will want me married as soon as possible!"

"Ah, yes, they probably will." Riander chuckled. "I need to go now, but we can talk tonight – unless you have company, that is."

"What about you?" Nerian felt his cheeks on fire. "Will I disturb you if I call you when I retire to sleep?"

"No, tonight I shall blissfully sleep alone," Riander answered with a smile. "Don't worry. Call me when you retire to bed, if you retire alone."

"Thank you!" Nerian watched the king's face fade away. He looked at Belfi. "Where should I keep this?"

***

Riander left the council room with a huff. Another full morning of suggestions of possible brides. His trip to Ker Daragon had scared his dignitaries and they really wanted him to tie the knot. Except after the night with Viona he was even less willing to have someone in his bed.

True that he could keep separate bedrooms. Some royal couples didn't sleep together constantly. Especially when there were children, which would be the only reason to get married. Provide the castle with an heir.

His stomach grumbled and he headed for the great hall. Time for a midday meal, then more administrative matters. At least for those he could retire to his office. He didn't need a secretary and could have some time off. Maybe he could even finish reading that history book he had taken from the castle library before going on the hunt that had taken him to Ker Daragon.

The bodyguard assigned to him followed him like a shadow everywhere, but not into his office or his private apartment. And since they guarded him day and night now, he wasn't going to befriend any of them like he had done with Danhin. He didn't even know all their names yet, but he knew they had long shifts to keep him safe.

During the meal Viona kept smiling at him, in spite of everything. Maybe she wanted another chance. Maybe she hadn't given up yet. Maybe she hoped he'd choose her and make her queen. Lady Viona was rumored to be quite ambitious and have turned down many suitors, as if she were waiting for someone in particular...

Riander ignored her obvious offer and left the table as soon as he could. He was finishing some accounting when a knock on his door distracted him. Lord Arias came in and bowed.

"Your majesty, may I have a word with you?"

"Please, take a seat." Riander put down the quill and pointed at the stool in front of his desk. Maybe Viona had talked her brother into asking him to marry her.

Arias cleared his throat, staring at his feet as he sat. He hadn't spoken much that morning, since he was the youngest member of the council, but maybe he had something to say – something he'd rather not tell Riander in front of the other counselors.

"I've been wondering... What are your feelings for my sister?" Arias finally looked Riander in the eyes, serious. "She's been quite taken with you for years now, so... where do you stand in this matter? I'm sure you are aware she refused to marry in the hopes of... well... being chosen by you."

Riander smiled and nodded.

"Yes, I'm aware that Viona has had a crush on me since we were teens," he answered. "I was hoping she would find someone else, but she's obviously set on me."

"She mentioned awkward meetings in your younger years, but also that you made up for them lately," Arias said with a half-smile.

"I did?" Riander raised his eyebrows, surprised. He didn't think he'd done great last night. "Arias, I don't love her, if that's what you're asking. I don't see myself spending my life with her either."

"I understand," Arias said gravely. "Is there anyone else, then?"

"Ah, no." Riander looked away. It was his turn to feel uncomfortable. "I... I don't think I'm made to be a family man."

"Why?" Arias asked, puzzled. "You don't feel attracted to women?"

"I don't feel attracted at all. To anyone. I don't see anything interesting in sex. I don't understand why people are so obsessed with it. And I don't think I'd be a good father. I'm a loner, Arias, I don't want the hassle of a family."

"You'd be a great father if you let anyone near you," Arias replied with a smile. "But I understand how you feel. It shows. Whenever you're in a room full of people you look lost, as if you wanted to be anywhere else but there. Which doesn't go very well with your kingly duties, but you keep showing up. You should be commended for this. And that's why we still want you as a king. We love you because you're so quiet but strong, and your father raised you well. You can handle anything and anyone. Except this marriage thing."

Riander sighed.

"Sometimes I think I'm not really fit to be king and I wonder if I should name someone else in my place." He stared at Arias who looked surprised at the thought. Arias would be a great king. He had a wife, and children, and he wasn't a loner. He was calm and wise and totally different from his fiery sister. "Would you like the throne?"

"Your majesty!" Arias protested. "I wasn't born to be king!"

"No, but you could run this castle and its lands better than I ever would..."

"No, your majesty, you're doing a fine job at that. If you do not wish to marry, don't. But please, don't let us down. You still have plenty of years ahead of you."

"If I don't get killed in a hunting accident or some other stupid way," Riander muttered. "Maybe I should write down that in case I die before my time, you should inherit everything."

"I still think a wife would be a better way to leave your father's legacy to someone else," Arias said. "My sister adores you. Think about it."

Arias rose and bowed stiffly before leaving. Riander pursed his lips and sighed. Marrying Viona might be a little too much to handle, though...

***

The coronation went well and Nerian was so busy rekindling the relationships with the castle inhabitants that a few days went by before he remembered the crystal. After ten years of loneliness, he finally had people to talk to, and everybody seemed eager to please him in any way.

After the few days with the dwarves, who had introduced him to community life again, he naturally fitted in the castle life, busy with kingly duties and lessons from his council members.

A teacher completed his education in bookkeeping and accounting. Belfi trained him with his sword. Roddyn taught him to use a bow. And the girls giggled when he entered the room, which made him feel elated and excited.

One bolder than the others kissed him on the lips, another, slightly older, went even further, visiting him in his royal bedroom and taking his virginity. Nerian enjoyed every moment of it. His body was starved for attention and he soon found his way around women.

"Maybe I went too fast," he confided to Riander on the night he remembered the other king. "Today Lord Woram scolded me, but apparently Kariel did the same with young men."

"So you enjoy sex?" Riander asked from the magic crystal.

"Yes, very much! So much so that I can't decide who I want to marry! And you? Have you found someone?"

"I'm still pondering the choices. There is a childhood friend who has a crush on me, but... I don't love her, so..."

"I love them all! And they love me!"

"Maybe because you're young, dumb and full of cum. Not to mention king."

"Aw, come on, Riander, don't shatter my dreams! I haven't had so much fun in years!"

Riander chuckled. "I'm happy for you. As a young king, your council must be on your neck even more than mine, just to make sure you don't make mistakes..."

"And there's so much to learn! If only I didn't have to learn it all at the same time!" Nerian complained. "I wish there was a magic spell that could make me know everything I need to know!"

"I'm afraid not even my faery godmother could do that," Riander commented. "Glad to hear everything is going fine. If you need advice, you know where to find me."

That night Nerian dreamed of Riander and Kariel fighting in the clearing. The duel was in slow motion and he kept seeing Riander's face and body. He woke up aroused but alone and wondered what the dream meant.

He remembered the rumors about Kariel, how he had used and abused young men... and wondered. Maybe Riander didn't want to get married because he preferred men too? He couldn't really ask, though, could he? He didn't want to piss off his neighbor.

Belfi found him particularly distracted during his morning lesson. "And Sir Eneck said you couldn't concentrate on books either," the half-blood said with an amused look on his androgynous face.

Nerian put away the sword and sat near Belfi on a bench in the castle courtyard. "I'm thinking... about Kariel and Riander. And their sexual tastes."

"That's not something one discusses in the open," Belfi replied. "I mean, you can't go ask Riander who he likes to sleep with. But there's enough about Kariel to confirm that he preferred his own sex. So? Are you confused, overdosed with women and want to try men?"

"I don't know." Nerian frowned. "I think I've tried everything with women..."

"Nerian, you're nineteen and you've just discovered sex. There are millions of other things to try. Both with men and women."

"Have you done it with men?" Nerian looked at Belfi who smiled and shook his head.

"No, but I know people who do. Explore your desire, Nerian, eventually you'll fall in love."

"How will I know that I'm in love?" Nerian worried he would confuse the act with the feeling.

"Trust me, you'll know," Belfi assured him. "Shall we go back to the training now?"

Nerian sighed. But he was aware he needed to learn to defend himself, and Belfi was a good teacher. He rose and unsheathed his sword, taking position.

***

Riander was happy for Nerian. The young man had sounded excited by his new life. Riander was sure he'd soon settle and fall in love and live happily ever after. Nerian wasn't an introvert like him and his youth made him rash, but also sweet. Riander hadn't seen him for long, but he compared Nerian to a puppy – playful, cuddly, happy-go-lucky.

Nerian was the younger brother he never had. When they talked through the crystal, he smiled at how Nerian was rediscovering life and enjoying it fully. He had never been like this, not even in his younger years. He had never been attracted to anyone.

Sometimes he envied Nerian's love for life and for people. Sometimes he felt like a grumpy old man, even though he was only thirty. He already wanted to retire and be a hermit somewhere. Except they wouldn't allow him to abandon his post.

Viona kept coming to his bed – not every night, but she kept coming. They didn't speak much, though. She never asked him when he'd marry her. It was plain on her face, but she never mentioned it.

Viona loved him but he preferred sleeping alone. His people loved him, but he wanted to leave them. He knew they didn't really need him to make the castle and its lands prosper. Such a small kingdom didn't really need him to go on.

But any other form of government was unheard of, so he had to sit on that throne every day, administer justice, make sure everybody had food and shelter and paid taxes to pay the guards to keep everybody safe.

Maybe with time he could convince them that Lord Arias would be as good as him. Or maybe he'd end up marrying Viona. If she got pregnant... but then, if it was a baby girl, he didn't want to keep having sex with her until a boy came.

Sometimes he still remembered the night with Kariel. Which didn't mean he wanted to try another male lover, but he kept wondering. Nerian's boyish face also often appeared in his dreams. He sort of missed him.

They hadn't had time to know each other properly. Which was good, after all. A relationship between the two of them would have ruined two kingdoms...

5. Blue as the Sky

One month had gone by since Kariel's death and Nerian's coronation and Belfi was still at Ker Daragon. Nerian's sword skills had improved, his administrative skills were almost as good as Riander's and his sexual adventures as varied as he could have them. Being aware of his youth, he listened carefully to his counselors before making any decision and sometimes consulted with Riander or Belfi when he had really no idea of what to do.

"We told King Kariel that some people were sick, but he couldn't care less," Lord Serin told him one morning. One of the older members of the king's council, he had large ears and ruddy skin. He was funny and not very stubborn. One of his hobbies was experimenting with pyrotechnics and he had made a wondrous show the night of Nerian's coronation. "Maybe your sword teacher can help us figure out how to stop this? It's contagious and deadly..." He stared hopeful at Belfi, whose pointed ears were hidden, but whose true nature hadn't escaped the castle inhabitants. Nobody dared ask him anything, but Lord Serin was bold enough to suggest something during a council session.

Nerian had asked Belfi to take part in those sessions even though the half-blood wasn't accustomed with royal councils because he thought the immortal being had the wisdom to advice him anyway. Belfi had been to many courts in his long life, and maybe something he'd seen somewhere else might represent itself in Ker Daragon.

"I am not a healer," Belfi answered while Nerian looked puzzled at him. "I can call upon a healer, though. If it's the plague, though, there isn't much either of us can do. It is indeed contagious and deadly, and all she could do is figure out who is not sick yet and keep them away from the sick."

"Has the plague come from Ker Eziel?" Lord Uriel asked, frowning.

"Ker Eziel was abandoned because of the magic involved," Belfi replied. "There was no plague over there. It probably comes from the plains – or maybe from rats. I haven't seen many cats around the castle."

"Since the Sorcerer King came, many small animals vanished," Lord Serin said. "The hounds are still here, and they're still used in hunts, but cats are gone. Mice were also gone, but they're back now."

"Where are the sick people?" Nerian asked, frowning with worry. "In the castle?"

"It started in the village by the watermill," Lord Serin answered. "But it's spreading. It has reached the castle now."

Nerian gasped and looked at Belfi, ready to panic. What could he do against the plague? What could anyone do, besides letting the sick people die unattended to avoid contagion?

Belfi pondered then looked at him.

"I can call Wild Rose. She's a healer. But, like I said, she can only determine who is sick and who isn't. She can't heal the dozens of people in the castle and the kingdom. She's a pure-blooded Genn, but she can't do miracles."

"So what can we do?" Nerian asked.

"Leave the sick ones behind and move away. Burn everything that entered in contact with the plague."

"Burn Ker Daragon?" In spite of his love for pyrotechnics, Lord Serin's eyes widened in shock.

"If the plague has reached the castle, it's the only way to stop it." Belfi replied.

"But where would we go?" Lord Uriel wrung his hands in desperation. "We were born here and..."

"And here you shall die if you stay," Belfi replied gravely.

"I will ask Riander if he can accommodate us," Nerian said. "But first we must be sure we don't bring the plague to Ker Garenn. Please summon Wild Rose, Belfi, and let's do as you suggest."

***

"Wild Rose!" Riander was startled by the sudden appearance of his faery godmother. He was preparing for bed and the night wrapped the towers of Ker Garenn. In the pale light of his single oil lamp, Wild Rose's face looked tired.

"I come on behalf of Nerian," she said. "I spent the day at Ker Daragon, checking the people of the kingdom."

"Why, what happened?" Riander asked. "Nerian didn't mention anything..."

"It was brought to his attention this morning. The plague, Riander. It has reached the castle now. Kariel had gotten rid of all the cats, rats and mice, but now that he's gone, they're back, and rats are carriers of the plague..."

"How did Kariel...? Wait, I don't think I want to know."

"He ate some and the others ran away." Wild Rose smiled tiredly. "He was a half-Fajrulo, after all. Yes, he did eat raw meat when nobody was watching."

Riander felt his stomach in his throat. He had kissed someone who ate raw meat. Cats or mice or other animals... it was disgusting. Kariel kept his inhuman habits well hidden.

"Now, I've checked everyone and they put the sick people in the great hall in some kind of quarantine," Wild Rose continued. "There are still a little less than a hundred people in the whole kingdom that are not affected. Some villages are completely depopulated already, and soldiers have been sent to burn the huts to purify the places. Others are untouched and people can just stay there. But the castle..." She looked Riander in the eyes. "They can't stay at the castle. Nerian would like to know if people can move to Ker Garenn. Whoever doesn't have relatives in the unaffected villages, that is. He is willing to give you his father's lands. You would rule over everyone."

Riander gaped. As if he hadn't enough of his own people!

"I know you had considered it if Nerian were female and I had discouraged you then, but now the situation is different," she continued. "This is serious, Riander. Some will probably move to the closest towns, but others really need your protection. Including Nerian."

"Maybe we could have a joint rule," he muttered, averting his eyes. "I will sleep on it and will send a messenger to Ker Daragon in the morning," he promised.

Wild Rose nodded and caressed his cheek. "You can do it, Riander," she whispered before vanishing again.

Riander went to bed and curled up in the fetal position. Now he really wanted to break down and cry.

***

Nerian couldn't believe he had to abandon his castle barely a month after going back there. His father's legacy, his people who had been kept away from him for ten years... Why hadn't Kariel cared more for them? Maybe because he didn't plan to stay in Ker Daragon for the rest of his life?

True that the Sorcerer King had already left a castle behind. And he'd never been of royal blood. He obviously couldn't care less about what happened to Ker Daragon. But Wild Rose had been adamant. Whoever wasn't sick yet must leave.

Families who didn't want to split were doomed to die together. But many mothers who had healthy children gave them to other women when staying behind to care for the sick. There were lots of sudden adoptions as a long line of wagons and carts left the castle and headed for Ker Garenn on the dusty road through the forest.

Nerian rode in the front of the line, on horseback – Danhin's horse going back to its original stable – followed by his royal guard. Belfi was on the wagon of the council with Lord Serin who had considered setting the castle on fire, but not with the people still in it.

The people who stayed closed the big doors and locked themselves inside, so that no traveler would be affected by the plague. A scribe pinned a note on the wood, saying the castle was a dangerous place because of the plague, just in case.

Nerian sniffled and stopped turning around when the tall trees covered the sight of Ker Daragon's towers. Even his ten-year prison was now left behind. He'd never been to Ker Garenn and wondered what he would find. Riander had sent a messenger that welcomed them to the neighboring kingdom, so Nerian hoped they'd be all right.

He actually looked forward to being with his hero again. To watch him be king and save his people like he had saved him. He missed the presence of his neighbor, even though he'd spent barely a couple of days with him in the dwarves' cave.

And then Ker Garenn appeared beyond the forest. It was late morning by now, almost lunch time, so they'd reach the castle in time for the midday meal. Messengers had been sent ahead to announce the number of people coming and Nerian was almost sure that Riander was ready for them.

He admired the six thin, square towers scattered in a seemingly random pattern, built for an ideal defense and connected by tall, firm walls made of yellow stone. Tall, wide windows scattered here and there across the walls in a seemingly random pattern made it look lighter than Ker Daragon.

A regular gate with hefty metal doors and strong defenses offered a safe home to all those in need. Well-kept gardens with fragrant flowers, gorgeous trees and many bushes decorated the outside of the castle. A hamlet leaned on the right sight of the main gate, in the shadow of the tall walls.

"This castle has been improved and improved over the ages," the captain of the guard said behind Nerian. "See how some parts of the castle are clearly newer than others? The inhabitants are determined to keep their castle as modern as possible."

"They won't have to abandon it to the plague," Nerian whispered as Riander's well-built frame appeared at the gate.

Nerian's heart jumped when he met the honey-colored eyes of the king of Ker Garenn. Riander was serious, but he opened his arms in a gesture of welcome. Nerian gulped his homesickness and guilt for having abandoned his castle and slid off the saddle. He had to rush forward and hug Riander.

"Thank you!" he whispered, hiding his face against Riander's wide chest. "I didn't know what to do..."

"You're welcome." Riander patted his back, then pulled away. "Now let's find a place for you and your people." His lips twitched into a smile and Nerian realized his gesture hadn't been very kingly, or even manly for that matter.

He blushed and nodded, signaling his men to come forward and stepped away from Riander. He let the hosting king instruct everyone and then followed him inside the main building, through the great hall that was ready for a banquet – even though it wasn't really a banquet, more a way of feeding the extra mouths until they settled – and to the upper floors.

"I hope you don't mind the prince's room," Riander said, opening a room. "There's only one king's room, and I moved my things there when I was crowned."

"Prince's room is perfectly fine," Nerian said, seeing it had a big curtained bed, much like the king's. "My room as a prince was a child's room, and this is much like what I had at Ker Daragon when they crowned me king."

"Good." Riander smiled. "I'll have your servants bring your things here. I thought we could eat in my office so we can discuss what to do."

Nerian nodded, frowning in worry again, and followed him to another room with a desk and bookshelves, clearly the king's office like the one in Ker Daragon.

"I have a secretary that will bring all the books of Ker Daragon here," Nerian said, sitting down. Servants had already brought in trays of warm food and cold drinks. "As soon as he finishes eating, that is."

"That's fine. We'll have to figure out which fields are still usable and add them to Ker Garenn. And what other things you have in your kingdom that could be taken care of from here."

"There's a fishpond or two, and a couple of windmills... if your faery godmother can clean the watermill, the people there are all dead, but we haven't burnt it down..."

"I'm sure Wild Rose can purify it, so we can use it again. Please eat before it gets cold. We have plenty of time to make plans."

Nerian nodded, but his stomach was clenched closed with anxiety. But watching Riander's cool demeanor helped him relax and start to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

***

Riander wasn't too happy when Viona knocked on his door that night. The day had been exhausting, dealing with people until dusk and dining in the great hall with everybody else. Peasants had been redirected to the villages in his kingdom, guards had joined his own, servants had crowded the castle beyond what seemed possible.

Some were already thinking of moving to town soon, even his own people. And if the castle felt overcrowded to his council, it was much worse for him, who couldn't have a moment alone since the arrival of the Ker Daragon inhabitants. Nerian clung to him until bedtime and now Viona wanted his attention as well.

"Please, Viona, I'm not in the mood," he said as she tried to hug him. "I'm very tired and worried and..."

"I'm here to help you relax," she said.

"Your presence doesn't relax me, honey," he snapped. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I need some time alone."

She stiffened but backed away. "That young king seems smitten by you," she said a little bluntly.

"I saved him from Kariel, and he's like a little brother to me," Riander said with a shrug.

"He doesn't look at you like a younger brother, Riander," she said, sarcastic. "His stare is adoring. Maybe he doesn't even know himself, but he's madly in love with you."

"Nonsense! Allow him to feel at home and you'll see how happy he will be to have you in his bed – you or any other woman for that matter!"

She scoffed. "I doubt it, but we'll see. Good night, Riander."

And she left. Riander exhaled in relief and slipped under the covers. In the quiet and darkness of his room, he saw Nerian's face again. The pale skin, dark hair, red lips... the androgynous beauty of a young man who talked to birds.

Viona was wrong. Nerian wasn't in love with him. And he probably didn't want to be king either. He's just like a little brother. Looks up at me, and maybe one day... Maybe one day he could leave Ker Garenn in Nerian's hands. At least he was of royal blood. His father would probably approve...

***

Nerian liked being an observer. He'd felt too young and unprepared when he'd been crowned king at Ker Daragon and now that responsibility fell on Riander's wide shoulders, he was much relieved. His admiration for the king grew daily, reminding him how his father had handled the kingdom.

Birds had told him of Kariel's ruthless rule and birds told him of Riander's gentle reign. A sparrow came to chat with him every morning as he sat at the window, looking at the castle life from a first floor room – not the top of a tower like it had been for the past ten years.

Ravens had flown back and forth from the two castles, bringing news of the dying Humans in his father's inheritance. They weren't affected by Human sicknesses and watched from the heights the unfurling of the tragedy.

Birds would keep living at Ker Daragon, especially since there were no cats left. They hadn't come back yet when plague had struck, so birds had found a safe haven in the abandoned castle. There were less of them in Ker Garenn because in Riander's castle there were still cats and mice and all the other normal animals that thrived in Ker Daragon before the arrival of Kariel... but still enough to keep Nerian company.

The young man enjoyed having Human company, and that even Ker Garenn's girls smiled at him, but he was still driven towards Riander. The king was an example for Nerian who still felt like a prince barely freed of his prison.

He noticed Lady Viona always clinging to Riander's arm in any social occasion and wondered why Riander hadn't married her yet. She was beautiful, noble, what was keeping him? Even if he didn't love her, wasn't he supposed to marry someone and provide an heir to the castle?

He dared ask when sitting with Riander in his small office, dealing with administrative matters. Riander didn't need a secretary, so they were alone.

"Why don't you marry Lady Viona?" Nerian asked out of the blue.

Startled, Riander glanced at him, then cleared his throat. Nerian didn't think it was an embarrassing question, but the honey-colored eyes seemed full of anguish now.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't supposed to ask?" he added quickly.

"No... no, it's a legitimate question." Riander gulped and looked at him again. "You sound just like my council." He made a brief, nervous laugh. "Why don't I marry her... I just can't. It doesn't seem right because she loves me and I don't."

"Oh." Nerian pondered. "Surely you weren't expecting to marry for love?"

"Certainly not, but an arranged marriage is one thing, marrying a childhood friend who always had a soft spot for you is another, don't you think?"

"I guess you're right..." Nerian pondered some more. "Have you ever been in love?"

"Ah... no, I don't think so." Riander sighed and leaned back on his chair. "I'm a loner, Nerian, I don't want anyone by my side. I like to sleep alone. Crowds tire me immensely. I'm fine with just one person to talk to, like we're doing right now, but the council sessions drain me of my energy in a way you can't imagine. Having a family would drain me some more, and there wouldn't be much left of me to reign."

Nerian gaped at the king.

Riander didn't look like someone who needed anyone by his side to feel complete, which showed a lot of strength on his part, but at the same time it probably wasn't a good quality for a ruler. He was good at organizing and leading people, but that didn't mean he liked being always at the center of the attention.

"Council sessions drained me too," Nerian muttered, looking away from Riander's pained face. "I'm glad I don't have to attend yours. I'm glad my people accepted you as their king. I'm glad to be a prince again, I wasn't ready to be king..."

"But you will be, won't you? Eventually." Riander stared at him, hopeful now. "I will train you and then, when you find a wife, I'll give everything to you and retire to my room and my library to live a private life. You can always consult me, of course, but you'll be the king."

"Oh no!" Nerian protested. "I don't want to inherit all this! My father's castle was already too much to handle!"

"But you're barely nineteen... I'm not saying I will abdicate this year, but when you're ready and in love and get married, I'll retire from public life."

"You have a wonderful library, and I'm glad I could bring Ker Daragon's books here. I'm catching up on some reading and the more I read about ruling the less I want to do it. As for falling in love and getting married... just because I discovered sex, doesn't mean I fell in love, does it?"

"No, but you're young, you still have time. I'm not that old either, so I can hold on for the few years it might take you to find the perfect match and learn everything about running a castle and a kingdom, not to mention sword-fighting."

Belfi was gone, but Riander's sword-teacher was finishing Nerian's warrior education. An old scholar was helping him through the library of Ker Garenn where he had added his own books. But Nerian still didn't see himself on a throne. He still wanted to nestle against Riander's wide chest and feel Riander's arms wrapped around him.

"Have you ever wished to spend your life with another man?" he asked.

Riander rolled his eyes. "Boy, so many questions today! Why, Nerian? What's with you? You're not happy here?"

"I'm very happy." He took Riander's hand. "Here. With you." Riander freed his fingers, looking uncomfortable. "Not so much when everybody else is around," Nerian finished, staring at his now empty hand.

Riander sighed. "Maybe you should try a male lover. I did, once. He gave me pleasure, but that's it. I still don't want to attach myself to anyone."

"Really? Can I go to him and try?" Nerian wondered.

"Ah... no. It was Kariel, Nerian. You might have heard nasty things about him, but he was nice to me and my body."

"He raped Roddyn's son." Nerian frowned. "But he was good to you? I guess we'll never understand him..."

"If you want to try men, I'm sure we can find someone," Riander said.

"Would you do it?" Nerian asked. Riander stiffened, and it was enough as a reply. "Never mind," Nerian added quickly, averting his eyes. "I'll find someone."

***

Riander was more and more confused. Viona was pregnant. Nerian was always by his side. The castle was more and more crowded. His sanity was slipping away! He had hoped he could share the burden with Nerian, but the young man obviously didn't want to be king either.

What am I supposed to do? Nerian's pale blue eyes kept haunting him. The way Nerian looked at him. The way it seemed Nerian wanted to nestle against him as soon as they were alone. The questions – all those damn embarrassing questions about his feelings.

He did care for Nerian, but probably not in the way Nerian wanted. Nerian was young and wanted sex. He was... not old, but... different. Except he wasn't sure what he wanted anymore. Well, he wanted to get away from Ker Garenn, but he couldn't.

Winter came and snow fell on the castle roofs and battlements. The courtyard was quickly cleaned, but the rest remained blissfully white. All the hearths of the castle were kept alight with logs at all hours, to warm the big and small rooms of the stone building.

And then one night someone came into his room and snuggled under his blankets and furs, shivering as a warm body nestled against his, startling him awake. He saw a pale face, long black hair, but it wasn't Viona.

"My hearth ran out of wood," Nerian said. "I woke up from a nightmare and found the room freezing. May I stay here until morning?"

Riander gulped but nodded, pulling the young man closer. Nerian's feet were still cold from running over the stone floor, but soon warmth wrapped them both. Riander dozed off with Nerian's head on his shoulder and Nerian's arm wrapped around his waist.

He woke up first with the pearly light of dawn. The fire in his hearth was all but embers now, but Nerian's warm body meant he wasn't cold. The young man hadn't moved, and slept peacefully against him.

Since he couldn't feel his arm, blocked under Nerian's body, Riander gently disentangled himself from the young man. It was like when Viona spent the whole night with him, but since they were both still in their nightgowns, it was also different. Intimate but not so intimate.

After reactivating his arm, he stared at Nerian's face for a while, pulling the blankets and furs up to their chins. Sometimes it felt like the young prince was a kindred soul. Maybe they could live happily ever after. But where? Not in Ker Garenn, where kingly duties wouldn't allow them to have a peaceful existence.

Maybe I should go to Cinnae like the families that left Ker Garenn and Ker Daragon for city life, Riander mused. Although that would mean finding work and paying for food and shelter. He could take some of Ker Garenn's treasury to support himself for the first year, but then he had to start working – coins wouldn't last forever in a town run by officials elected by nobles...

He sighed, rolling to stare at the wooden ceiling. He didn't want to leave his castle and his library. But he'd had enough of being king. If he could find a suitable substitute... Lord Arias would do until Viona had her baby. And if it was a boy, Viona's child could inherit Ker Garenn. If it was a girl, Lord Arias's firstborn boy would have the castle. The kingdom would become a dukedom, but that wouldn't change much for the people living there.

"What worries you?" Nerian's voice startled him. He turned his head and saw the prince was awake, even though he hadn't moved. But then a hand found his under the covers. "I'm sorry I came here, but it was the closest warm room from mine," Nerian apologized.

"It's not you," Riander replied, leaving his fingers under the warm hand. "I just want to get rid of my crown."

"Why? You look great with it."

"It's heavy. Too heavy for me. If you're not willing to be my successor, I will have to find someone else soon."

Nerian slid closer to him and wrapped both hands against his, putting his chin on his shoulder.

"And then we can leave together?" he whispered, hopeful.

"To go where?" Riander smiled against his will. "Living off what? I haven't left yet because I don't know what to do out there. But if I can find some accord with my council..."

"You have already someone in mind?" Nerian sounded excited.

"Yes, Lady Viona's brother would be a perfect king. Or duke. Or lord. I mean, he can run this castle as well if not better than I do. He can consult me anytime and..."

"Can I stay with you?" Nerian asked.

A little puzzled, Riander looked at him again. "Why are you so eager to give up your father's inheritance? You're young, you have plenty of time to learn and..."

"And I don't want to be king," Nerian replied. "I want to be with you. My hero."

"Nerian, I don't think..."

Nerian slid even closer and grabbed his head to pull him down. Nerian's kiss silenced Riander who closed his eyes, savoring the youth's mouth. He had never really liked kisses, but found himself ravaging Nerian's mouth, which the prince lying by his side passionately returned.

They both broke the kiss to gasp for breath. Nerian's lips curved into an impish smile.

"I knew you'd be the one, my beautiful hero..."

Still breathless, Riander found his face covered in butterfly kisses.

***

Nerian opened the window to let in the cool morning air. The sky outside was blue and cloudless, but the snow still covered the roofs and battlements of Ker Garenn.

Nerian smiled and sat on the bench under the windowsill. Soon a family of sparrows glided to talk with him. He knew he must look happy even to them.

He had spent the night in Riander's bed, and had had the sweetest awakening ever. His hero had allowed him to touch and explore his perfect body and Nerian knew he was madly in love now. He wanted to please Riander for the rest of his life and couldn't be bothered with kingly duties anymore.

And neither could Riander. They really should retire to a private life. He was falling asleep again with his head against Riander's chest when the barber and the king's personal servant had entered the room and were startled by his presence.

He had quickly slipped his nightgown back on and rushed back to his own room, giggling like a child caught in the act. Nobody had shown up yet to wake him up, so he entertained the sparrows with his morning tryst.

The cold forced him to close the window and dress, joining Riander in the hall where he was having breakfast, already surrounded by his counselors. The pained expression on the king's face made Nerian's heart beat faster. He must protect his beloved from all the people who wanted him.

For the first time since he'd moved to Ker Garenn, he took part in the council session and spoke his mind. He said that King Riander was tired and he was too young and that the council should accept someone else as the head of the castle. Riander's puzzled but grateful stare made him hold his ground with the elder member who screamed outraged at him that it was unheard of.

"My father was killed to get his throne," Nerian replied, determined. "Riander doesn't want his. He is willing to abdicate and name his successor. Why can't you accept this? What makes our blood so different from yours? If you cut our veins, you see red liquid pouring out. Much like yours."

The council grumbled – all but the youngest member, Lord Arias, who stared at Riander with a half-smile. Nerian elbowed the king who looked dazed by his intervention.

"Don't you have a successor in mind?" Nerian asked him.

Riander cleared his throat.

"Actually, yes. I have already mentioned it to him, but so far he has refused."

The counselors stared at him, gaping – again, all but Lord Arias.

"I want Lord Arias to sit on my father's seat and run the castle. If his sister, Lady Viona, has a boy, that boy can be considered my heir by blood and might succeed his uncle when he comes of age. If it's a girl, Lord Arias's firstborn male will continue the dynasty of rulers of Ker Garenn."

"It won't be a kingdom anymore!" someone complained.

"What's the difference between a kingdom and a dukedom?" Nerian replied. "You don't have a king to answer to anyway..." He looked at Lord Arias. "Do you accept the honor bestowed on you?" Useless to keep arguing if the chosen one refused to do Riander's bidding.

"I do." Lord Arias bowed his head in agreement. "Are you willing to give up your own inheritance for a stranger such as myself?"

"Of course." Nerian shrugged. "Riander was also a stranger until he saved my life. If he trusts you, so do I. If he thinks you'll be the perfect leader, who am I to speak against him? He's older and wiser than me!"

"Thank you, Nerian." Riander put a hand on his shoulder and took back control of the conversation. A couple of hours later it was all set in writing. Lord Arias would consult with Riander when he saw fit, but Riander was mostly free to do what he wanted in his own apartment and the castle library.

"I shall move back to my princely rooms," Riander said. "They are closer to the library and more comfortable for me."

"What about Prince Nerian?"

Nobody called him "king" at Ker Garenn, but Nerian didn't mind. Even his former subjects seemed happy to answer to someone older and wiser than him. He stared hopeful at Riander, waiting for his answer.

"I believe we can share," Riander said with a smile.

Nerian wanted to sing and dance, but stayed put. Nobody would wipe the ear-to-ear grin from his face, though. He met Riander's honey-colored eyes and felt as if he were high up in the sky.

Cinder Boy

1.

Rohan slowly entered the natural warm pool that gathered under the small waterfall generated by the hot spring up the ledge. He sat on the uneven ground and let the warm waves wash away the ashes and the soreness from his body while inhaling the cool forest air.

Oaks and beeches surrounded the small pond he had found in the woods behind the manor. It felt almost like a private bath chamber, with natural architecture enclosing it. The smell of musk filled his nostrils with a touch of sulfur coming from the water.

The forested massif of Ker Noran had most of its inhabitants living on the outskirts of the woods. The castle and villages were on the river shore, and isolated farms and manors were closer to the trees that climbed the lower slopes of the mountains.

Rohan's house was one of those, built at the edge of the forest and overlooking the castle of Ker Noran down the gentle slope that took to the river. A two-story manor house that could be locked up in case of siege, it could be a watchtower for the king or a hunting pavilion for the royal family, who hadn't bothered visiting in years.

Winds from the coast further north brought lots of rain, allowing for luscious vegetation and feeding the many brooks at the bottom of smaller valleys, all flowing into the river Wated that provided the castle wells with cold freshwater.

But between marshes and swamps, sometimes a pond of turquoise warm water surprised hunters.

The forest provided timber and venison, and Rohan's family had been a guardian of that part of the woods for many generations now. Except he didn't feel as much in control as his father had been.

They called him Cinder Boy, even though he had turned twenty-two the previous winter. His mother had died when he was ten and his father had remarried a widow with two sons from the castle nobility.

Lady Blandina was blonde and blue-eyed like his late mother, and he had hoped his father had found a substitute that was just like the lost one. His hopeful gaze had looked awed at the beautiful lady who now sat by his father's side.

And then Lady Blandina had moved to the manor with Tristan and William, two spoiled blond boys who had been very happy to be trained by his father, one of the best knights of the king's retinue. Lord Alan was a swordsmaster and a great rider, and Rohan was also a very good rider, since he'd been given his first horse around that time.

When his mother was alive, he'd been used to helping around the house and they didn't have that many servants, but Lady Blandina demanded house servants. Until his father had died in a hunting accident a couple of years later, when his stepmother had shown her true face to Rohan.

She had sent away most of the servants and moved him to the house chores, hence the Cinder Boy nickname. He'd been working as a servant since, and he'd been denied the chance to complete his knightly education, while his stepbrothers had been knighted by their uncle a few months earlier. Surely other knights of the king's court could have completed his training, but his stepmother didn't think he deserved it.

Rohan sighed, relaxing in the warm pool. He didn't mind the house chores, but he missed the lessons with his father. He missed riding on his horse and having mock duels with the other knights-in-training. He missed going to the castle and joining the king in the great hall and talking to his peers.

He'd watched with envy William and Tristan's training, and often wished he could take part in it. But his stepbrothers called him in only to beat him and use him as a practice dummy. Which still allowed him to hone his defense skills, even though he was given a club and wooden shield to parry and block the blows, and not a real weapon.

Even though he'd been kicked out of his room and his position, he wasn't sour. He was waiting for the occasion that would allow him to rise from the ashes and claim his father's inheritance.

When his stepbrothers weren't watching, he took their swords and tried the moves his father had taught him against a dummy, sometimes the scarecrow in the garden of the manor, sometimes a tree. He petted the horses in the stables and rode them as often as he could – usually when Lady Blandina was at the castle for some social gathering.

"Is the water warm?"

The voice startled him and he opened his eyes. A rider had stopped his mount on the other side of the waterfall and stared at him from the saddle. He wore travel clothes and dark stubble covered his cheeks. Raven hair and brown eyes, he stared straight at Rohan, who cursed himself for having been taken by surprise. The sound of the waterfall had covered the approaching traveler.

"Yes, it's a hot spring," he answered, a little embarrassed for having been found lingering in a pond by a complete stranger.

"I didn't know there were hot springs in the kingdom." The man got off his saddle. "I should probably use it before I reach Ker Noran... Do you happen to have a razor with you?"

"Uh... no, but my house is not far, I can get you one if you want," Rohan answered, a little puzzled.

"I'd be very grateful," the other said, starting to undress. He had tied the horse to a low branch and seemed to look forward to a bath.

Rohan quickly got out of the water and wrapped himself in his towel, grabbing his clothes and shoes before heading back to the manor. He wondered who the man was and why he was headed for the castle.

He dressed in the empty house – his step-family was at the castle, as usual – and took a clean towel and the necessities for shaving before going back to the woods. He found the stranger already in the water.

"I hope you don't need clean clothes, since I don't have any to spare," Rohan said shyly, offering the shaving implements and the towel.

"No, I still have a clean tunic in my pack. Thanks. You can join me, since I interrupted your bath."

"Uh, no, thanks, I'm clean now. When you're done, take everything to the house you'll find at the end of that footpath." He pointed in the direction of the manor.

"Thank you... what's your name?"

"Rohan."

"Rohan, I'm Kurtis. I shall bring back everything as soon as I'm done."

Rohan nodded and headed home. His hair was still wet and he was a little upset by the meeting. Nobody had ever found the pond before. It was as if Kurtis had discovered his secret place... but then, maybe Kurtis was just passing and would leave without telling anyone about the natural warm pool in the woods.

***

Nice ass, Kurtis thought. Pity he covered it so quickly.

The pool was more comfortable than castles' bath-tubs and he wondered if the warm water also had some healing properties. It seemed to wash away all the soreness of the saddle and the long trip from Moriana.

I may have never left Ker Noran if I'd met Rohan earlier in my life. The young man was gorgeous, with dark hair and blue eyes and that shy smile and perfectly toned body... Pity he must be a servant. If he were a knight, Kurtis could ask him to join his retinue.

Maybe I should have asked him to stay and shave me, he mused. Although probably his masters wouldn't be happy if he kept their servant busy. Well, he could probably request him, if he really wanted to. Nobody would deny him anything.

Now that he was almost home, he wasn't too keen on getting there. He knew what awaited him. His father had probably chosen a bride for him, and he'd lose all the freedom he'd had for the past three years.

He hoped to be able to keep doing what he'd done in Moriana. But even though things had changed at the former capital of the Moren Empire, everything was probably still the same in Ker Noran.

Kurtis sighed and washed his now shaven face before getting out of the water. He dried up his body and put on his last clean tunic and breeches, then led the horse through the woods towards the mentioned house.

Rohan came out of the two-story manor to meet him, as if he were afraid to let him in. Kurtis admired once more the handsome, clean-shaven face, blue eyes and dark hair. And the body hidden under shaggy clothes.

"Thank you," he said. "I hope to see you at the castle soon."

"I'm never invited to the castle," Rohan answered, averting his eyes. "You have a safe trip, good sir."

Definitely a servant, Kurtis thought. I should ask him if he has any skills, so I can request him for my service...

But words didn't come out. He watched the young man go back into the house and close the door.

He sighed and spurred the horse towards the castle.

***

Rohan watched the rider leave from behind the windowpane and waited for his heart to stop beating so fast. Clean-shaven, Kurtis looked gorgeous, a true knight like his father had been, even though he wasn't wearing chainmail armor. But Rohan could see him jousting and fighting in a tournament – and winning the day.

I wish I could become like him. I wish I could join the king's retinue...

He went to the kitchen to help the cook, who was getting very old. The only servants left in the manor were her and her husband, the gardener. Their daughter came to do the laundry every other day, and Rohan usually did the cleaning and served the lady's table. He wasn't allowed to eat with the family anymore, but he didn't care.

Tristan and William sounded quite excited during dinner. Something big was going to happen at the castle, and of course Rohan wasn't invited.

"What is it this time?" he asked out of curiosity, knowing he wouldn't take part in it.

"A tournament," Tristan answered. "The prince heir is back, and he will choose the knights for his retinue."

Lady Blandina's eldest was a couple of years older than Rohan. He was blond and blue-eyed like his mother, but not as beautiful. Ladies liked Tristan more for his title than his looks, and his mother had already found a couple of suitable brides.

She was negotiating with the maidens' parents, hoping to have one marry Tristan and the other William. No bride for Rohan, though. He wasn't her son, after all.

"You wouldn't stand a chance of being picked up," William added with a smirk. "You're not a knight!"

His impish smile had seduced many women. William was a few months younger than Rohan and more handsome than his brother. Ladies loved him for his looks and his charming ways, even though he showed none of that to his stepbrother.

But since they were so close in age, sometimes William had asked Rohan to side with him against Tristan – behind Lady Blandina's back, of course.

"Rohan is not coming to the tournament," Lady Blandina said sternly. "And you two better stop fighting among yourselves if you want to stand a chance."

"Don't worry, Mother, we'll show the prince what a great team we can be," Tristan assured her.

Rohan scoffed. He doubted it. He took away the dirty dishes and sat by the hearth, brooding. He'd love to show them he could be a better knight than them. But he had no sword, no armor, no horse. And nobody had knighted him, even though he felt his knightly education was complete, despite his stepmother denying him.

Lord Alan had joined the king's retinue when Konan was still prince heir. Why couldn't Rohan do the same? Why wasn't he allowed to take part in the tournament? Maybe he could try to ask his stepmother's permission. After all, they all thought he didn't stand a chance, so why shouldn't they let him try?

Lady Blandina stared at him with a frown.

"You haven't completed your knightly education, Rohan. You'd get killed. I can't allow you to do this. Your father would never forgive me."

"My father would never forgive you the fact that you didn't allow me to complete my education!" Rohan snapped. "He was one of the king's men! I want to try to be like him too!"

"That is out of the question, Rohan. You will not set foot in the castle. Ever. And that's final."

Rohan clenched his teeth and stormed back to his room – well the place where they allowed him to sleep, up in the attic, with mice and doves. He threw himself on his bunk bed and screamed his frustration into the pillow.

Then he calmed down. He'd find a way to go to the tournament. But he needed weapons.

Night marched on as he tried to figure out how to become a true knight.

***

"So, how are things in the south-west?" King Konan asked, staring at Kurtis who sat in front of him in his private chamber. "Was there truth to the rumor?"

The king's hair was turning gray, and he had visibly aged since Kurtis had last seen him. The private chamber had a big mahogany desk, shelves of manuscripts and parchments bound in leather, and a chest for more writing implements – quills, ink, wax seals and blank sheets of parchment.

Kurtis sat on a stool, but the king had a chair with a high back and a big cushion under his royal ass. Kurtis had missed the cozy office with its smell of wax, paper, ink and dust.

"Yes, the Moren Emperor is dead, and no Chosen was found to replace him," Kurtis answered. "The two years since Emerald's death have expired and nobody was able to find his successor, so I guess the Moren Empire is definitely gone."

"They already had trouble finding the Chosen some twenty years ago, when the barbarians killed Gold IV and there was a regent for one full year before Emerald III came along..."

"He didn't last long." Kurtis scoffed. "And now that the Genn are hiding and the other Magical Races are as elusive as them, nobody can find the Chosen. I guess the spell that lasted almost three centuries is now broken."

The king nodded, thoughtful.

"So you've given up hope of becoming emperor?" he asked with a half-smile.

"Yes, Father. I kind of liked the idea of not marrying, since the succession was not dynastic, but I guess it wasn't meant to be." Kurtis shrugged, but his thoughts went to handsome Rohan bathing in the warm pond in the woods.

"Kurtis, you're almost thirty now. It's really time you tied the knot and started breeding," King Konan chided. He'd been very patient with his rebellious firstborn, but Kurtis had assured him he knew everything about the succession of the Moren Empire, and therefore the king had allowed his heir to try and get an imperial crown.

"I thought you were ready to pass everything to Ewan."

His younger brother was married, and probably had children already. Kurtis hadn't seen him yet, but he'd left after Ewan's wedding and since it had been three years...

"Indeed, but what will you do with yourself? You're the eldest, Ker Noran is rightfully yours..."

"If I marry and breed. I'm not too keen on that, Father."

King Konan sighed.

"Very well. I assume you'll be happy to protect your brother and the kingdom, and be his general then."

"Absolutely. Has he already chosen his retinue?"

"We were waiting for your return, or the news that you'd become the next Moren Emperor. Tomorrow the tournament will start, and it will last three days. I'm sure you and Ewan can find the best knights to serve you among our younger fighters."

Again, Kurtis's mind went to Rohan. He wondered what the servant was doing. He'd look him up when the tournament was over, though. Too many things to catch up on right now, he'd have no time for the beautiful young man...

Ewan had indeed bred, a girl and a baby boy. He was glad to see Kurtis again and they both went to survey the tournament's preparation.

Ker Noran had thick walls that formed an irregular hexagon with six square towers joining them. The main building was rectangular, and on one side there was another square tower, taller than the others.

The guards' barracks were built against the external walls on both sides of the main gate, and the stables were hidden at the back of the main building. Commoners' houses basked in the shadows of the castle walls and on the northern side of the grounds there was a vast esplanade that could be used for tournaments, fairs, festivals or any other public celebration.

But it needed cleaning after the weekly open air market. The joust and the quintain should be set up, and seats for the king and the audience must be built on both longer sides of the almost rectangular area. There were no windows on that castle wall, so a stall was built for the royal family and the nobility, while benches were brought for peasants and servants.

The day flew by as Kurtis rekindled his relationships in his birth castle. He didn't have time to go to the river and talk with his secret friends, but there was plenty of time for that. Besides, they probably already knew the Moren Empire succession spell was broken. They were true magical beings after all.

He was glad to be back. And that he didn't have to marry soon. He went to bed happy and hopeful he'd dream of Rohan.

2.

The next morning, Rohan tried again to convince his stepmother to take him to the tournament.

"You don't have weapons or armor," William said, frowning at him.

"Who wants to see a Cinder Boy joust?" Tristan added.

Rohan clenched his fist, trying to control his anger. He wanted to punch them both in the face and show them he was as much of a knight as they were!

"It is better if you stay at home," Lady Blandina said contemptuously. "If you behave, we will tell you what we saw."

Tristan sniggered, elbowing William who nodded with a smirk.

Rohan gritted his teeth. He watched them go in the carriage led by the gardener, who doubled up as stableman and coachman. Two horses for the joust were attached to the carriage and trotted behind it.

The cook patted his shoulder.

"Let it go, Rohan. Since your father's death, you are no longer the master of the house," she said with a mournful look on her round face.

"I will change that," he said, determined. "First of all, I'm no longer a boy. I shall prove to them that I'm a knight and have the right to sit in my father's place, or take a position in the king or prince's retinue!"

"How can you attend the tournament?" she asked, worried. "You might take one of the horses, but you have no weapons and no mail hauberk..."

"I know!" Rohan stomped his food, frustrated. "Where did my father keep his armor?"

He looked at the cook who shrugged. Why would she know... but then, neither did Lady Blandina, or she'd have given Lord Alan's armor and weapons to her sons.

Rohan pursed his lip and frowned. He must find his father's equipment. Lord Alan had put everything away when he had retired from the king's service, after his first wife's death. Rohan knew he was meant to inherit them, but couldn't remember what his father had told him about them.

He went through his parents' chamber (now Lady Blandina's), through his old room (now belonging to his stepbrothers), through the whole first floor and found nothing. Snorting impatiently, he went to brood on his bunk bed in the attic... and then noticed the furniture covered by dust and cobwebs in a corner.

He went to have a closer look. He had used the attic to sleep, but hadn't really explored it, or even kept it clean. He'd rather be outside than in that poor excuse of a room most of the day.

He moved a wobbly bed table and opened an old wardrobe with carved doors. He gasped at the sight of his mother's clothes, neatly stashed in there.

And under a linen sheet was the mail hauberk with its chainmail coif that had belonged to his father. Underneath, on the wardrobe floor, there was the flat-topped helmet and the chausses, or chainmail leggings for riding. And leaning against the back of the wardrobe, a kite-shaped shield and his father's sword.

Rohan almost screamed with joy. He pulled out all the items and spread them on the bunk bed. They needed polishing, but they looked as new as the day Lord Alan had stashed them away with his late wife's things. Lady Blandina had never seen them, but she'd recognize the kite-shaped shield with her late husband's coat-of-arms painted on it.

Rohan took everything downstairs. He rolled the chainmail in the same barrels of sand where his stepbrothers had polished theirs, and checked the blade of his father's sword. It needed sharpening, but it wasn't a priority.

"You found Lord Alan's armor?" the cook asked, brightening at the sight.

"Yes, but I need to paint the shield, or they'll immediately recognize me. I don't want my stepmother to know I disobeyed her."

Just in case I make a fool of myself. So if I don't win anything, nobody will know and I shall be the Cinder Boy forever.

He held a sigh at the thought, but then he was even more determined to prove to the world he could do it. He'd enter Ker Noran as a knight, an honor he'd earn on the field. His father would be proud of him.

"You don't have time to paint it, the tournament will start soon," the cook said. "Here, cover it with these leather strips that came off that chair over there."

She helped him to cover the painting and reinforce the shield for the blows it would definitely get during the tournament. Then she helped him put on the chainmail armor and she pulled an anonymous tunic over it.

"The Nameless Knight is ready to win the tournament!" She chuckled. "Let's hope your stepbrothers don't recognize the horse..."

"They never really cared for horses, and in fact neither of them can ride my father's steed," Rohan said proudly, holding his helmet in one hand and the shield in the other. "Wish me good luck."

"You shall return a winner," she said gravely, patting his cheek.

Rohan grinned and went to the stables. The cook's grandson was there, since his mother had come to do the laundry, and he helped Rohan to saddle Lord Alan's horse. Rohan put on the helmet, effectively hiding his face behind the metal, and spurred the horse towards the castle.

***

Kurtis watched as people gathered on the tournament field. He had already donned his chainmail and was ready to join the knights in the games.

In Moriana he had attended a lot of tournaments and had won many. He'd been considered a true champion at the former capital. Many had wished he sat on the throne in the great hall, but it wasn't meant to be.

Without the succession spell, nobody could hold together the lands of the Moren Empire, in fact it was already falling apart. Emerald's relatives had crowned themselves kings at Xendaria, the Blackmoren family claiming a castle and a town because they had given birth to the last Moren Emperor.

On his way back from Moriana, Kurtis had seen cities proclaim their independence and smaller kingdoms reform, as if the Moren Empire had never existed, even though only three years had gone by since Emerald's death. Moriana itself was now part of the Salamar Kingdom.

"Are you sure you want to participate?" King Konan asked, worried. "Sometimes things get rough out there..."

"So? It's not as if you're losing your one and only heir," Kurtis replied with a grin. "I want to test my men personally."

Ewan chuckled. "You're crazy, dear brother, but you'll be a great commander, if we are ever in danger!"

Kurtis winked. "I have won many tournaments while in Moriana. If only those victories were enough to become Moren Emperor!"

"Good luck, Kurtis. May you unsaddle all your future men," King Konan said.

Kurtis bowed and stepped down the royal stall. His squire gave him his steed's reins and he mounted. He pulled on the coiffe and then his squire passed him his cone-shaped helmet.

The first day of the tournament was a run at the quintain. The dummy mounted on a pivot with a revolving arm unsaddled quite a few knights, but not Kurtis or an unnamed knight with no coat-of-arms, who struck cleanly the wooden post and avoided a hit by the revolving arm.

Kurtis nodded his admiration to the other knight who bowed his head in acknowledgment.

The Nameless Knight scored higher and was declared the winner of the first day, but he refused to remove his helmet, and left as soon as the king announced the results.

"Strange man," Kurtis commented, passing his helmet to his squire and taking down the coiffe. He was drenched in sweat after the exertion under the sun. "I like him, though. He'd make a perfect lieutenant."

"Or the captain of your retinue," King Konan said. "Like Alan was for me. Except I assume you'll be your own captain, since you'll be working for your brother?"

Kurtis nodded. "All captains need lieutenants, don't they?" He smiled at his father who grinned back with a nod.

"Go bathe yourself. I don't think we'll see our champion at the banquet tonight."

Kurtis obeyed with a sigh. As he waited for the servants to fill the bath-tub, he remembered the previous day's bath in the natural warm pond. And Rohan's naked body.

I must be obsessed. I will have to look him up when this is over...

***

Rohan cursed himself for having been so naive. Of course the gorgeous stranger was Prince Kurtis. He should have known as soon as his stepbrothers had mentioned he was back.

It had been a shock seeing him wear his helmet and enter the quintain. Rohan had to control his heartbeat and take long breaths to remain calm.

Luckily his father's horse carried him to victory, and he managed to make a clean hit on the revolving post. Not bad for someone who hadn't completed his knightly education. Tristan was unsaddled and William barely kept hold of the reins.

He couldn't stay for the festivities, thus he'd gone back as fast as he could. He knew Lady Blandina would attend the banquet, trying to place her sons as close as possible to Prince Kurtis, but he'd better pretend he hadn't left the house at all.

He jumped off the saddle, took the horse back to his stall, then went to the attic and took off the armor, hiding everything in the old wardrobe. He went back down again and made sure to clean all the hearths of the house, so that when his stepmother came back, he was covered in ashes as usual.

He wished he could go to the pond and bathe, but didn't dare risk it. He'd better look his usual dirty self if he didn't want to be discovered yet.

The carriage came back before sunset. Tristan and William demanded warm baths while Lady Blandina sat in the main hall. After he'd taken the warm water to his stepbrothers' room, Rohan went to her.

"Will you be eating tonight?" he asked.

"No, we already ate at the castle," she answered, bored. She stared at him from head to toe. "You should bathe, Rohan, you're covered in ashes."

"I cleaned all the hearths while you enjoyed the tournament," he said. "How was it?"

"Interesting." She looked away and shrugged. "An unnamed knight won the day and didn't even stay for the festivities. Let's hope he doesn't show up tomorrow."

Oh, he will! Rohan tried to keep his exhilaration to himself.

He bowed. "Should I retire, my lady?"

She waved him off without looking at him.

Rohan took a lamp and went to the pond. At night it looked eerie, but he wasn't afraid. He undressed and went into the water, sitting on the uneven ground and looking at the fireflies dancing around it.

Another lamp soon joined his, and he had a glimpse of Prince Kurtis's smile before the other man slid into the water next to him.

"I was hoping to find you here," the prince said. "How was your day?"

"The usual." Rohan gulped and looked away. He shouldn't let the other man know he knew who he was. That would mean giving away his identity, and he wasn't sure he could tell anyone yet. The Nameless Knight had won only the first day of the tournament, there were two more greater challenges to come.

Rohan could still make a fool of himself in front of the whole of Ker Noran, so he'd better keep his mouth shut for now.

"What does the usual mean?" Kurtis asked. "I could also say I had the usual day, since I've spent most of my days in Moriana attending tournaments, but I'm aware not everyone spends his life in mock duels."

"Some people don't get the knightly education they deserve," Rohan said sourly. "But sometimes, this doesn't stop them from trying to achieve something."

He felt Kurtis's hand on his back. The caress sent a shiver down his spine.

"I need to go. I have to wake up early tomorrow," he said quickly, rising and heading for the pond's shore.

"Please, stay!" Kurtis said.

"I can't." Rohan quickly dressed, grabbed his lamp and almost ran away from the pond.

***

Kurtis sighed. Mysterious and elusive, but so beautiful! He should really claim Rohan for his service.

Having already bathed at the castle, there was no reason to linger in the pond, if the reason why he came was gone.

He got out of the water, dressed and went back to the edge of the woods, where he'd left his horse. He rode back to the castle and retired to his room, wishing he could have brought Rohan with him.

3.

Rohan dreamed of Prince Kurtis. They were together in the warm pond, naked. He awoke before things could get really embarrassing between them, but the thought lingered in the pearly light of dawn.

What am I thinking? Me and him... lovers? I must have gone crazy!

He got out of bed to keep his mind busy. He shaved and dressed, and then went downstairs to help the cook prepare breakfast. He didn't ask again for permission to attend the tournament and barely listened to his stepbrothers' excited chatter. He didn't even watch them leave, too busy pulling out his father's armor and weapons from the old wardrobe in the attic.

This time he reached the tournament field almost at the same time as William and Tristan. He signed up for the joust and was given a long wooden lance. He knew today his father's shield would take a beating, but he hoped the leather strips would still cover the coat-of-arms.

The length of the field had been divided in two by a low fence. Rohan waited for his turn to run the joust and unsaddled two knights with no real effort. Then he was pitched against Prince Kurtis, and was almost unsaddled as the lances broke into splinters.

He enjoyed unsaddling Tristan – William had already been unsaddled in the previous round – and started to have a lot of fun, in spite of the hard, physical work of holding the lance and staying on the saddle. He was born to be a knight! He felt one with his father's horse and the cheers of the crowd galvanized him.

Again, in the second round he had to run against Prince Kurtis. It was his turn to almost unsaddle his opponent, but since neither fell off their horse, they both went to the next round.

A few hours later only he and the prince were left. His shield was battered and he had had to change three lances, but he was ready for the last joust of the day. Then he'd rush back home and have a relaxing bath in the pond.

When the trumpets sounded, he spurred the horse and lowered the lance. The impact was so hard that both knights flew off their saddles and rolled to the floor. Rohan huffed. He had almost lost his helmet in the fall.

He picked himself up, went to retrieve his horse and jumped on the saddle.

"Hey, wait!" Prince Kurtis called.

Rohan didn't think he needed to know the outcome of that day. His stepbrothers would tell him when they got home. For now he was sweaty and sore, and only wanted to take off the mail hauberk and relax in the warm pond.

But first he took care of the horse, since it had served him so well on the tournament field. Then he took off the armor and left everything in his room. Half an hour in the warm waters gave him back his strength and he went back to the manor to check the damage to his equipment.

His helmet had taken a beating and the shield didn't look any better. He had time to take both to the blacksmith before Lady Blandina and her sons came back. The sword hadn't been used yet, but it still needed sharpening, so he might as well bring that too.

He'd need the sword tomorrow. He was very happy for the outcome of the tournament so far. Pity he couldn't stay for the celebrations...

***

Kurtis cursed under his breath as the Nameless Knight vanished again. They were even. They had both won the day. They should both be honored. Why was the mysterious warrior so shy? Why did he guard his identity so closely?

Kurtis could only say the Nameless Knight had blue eyes. And he was strong and an excellent rider.

"I look forward to tomorrow," he said during the banquet. "I wonder what other skills he has."

"I wonder why we never heard of such a strong knight," King Konan commented, skeptical. "Where was he hiding?"

"Maybe he is one of your retired men who wants to come back," Ewan suggested. "And he doesn't want to be recognized."

"My best man is unfortunately dead," the king grumbled. He frowned every time he thought about Lord Alan, who had been his captain for so long that even his sons had met him. "Anyhow, I think we already have a winner for tomorrow. Any other knight who looks promising to you?"

"A couple." Kurtis shrugged.

"Where were you last night?" Ewan asked with an impish smile. "The sentinels reported you left after sunset and came back about one hour later..."

"Why does it bother you?" Kurtis smiled. "I'm not getting married and I'm not going to claim the throne."

"But you're going to claim someone after the tournament," King Konan said. "Am I right?"

"Yes, Father. I think he's a servant, and I haven't figured out what he does exactly, but I will."

"Your personal servant doesn't need any specific skill." The king shrugged. "If you're not happy with the one you have..."

"He's old, Father. I'd rather have a younger man, if you don't mind. I think it's time Envel retired."

"I wonder why you'd want a younger man," Ewan said. "Envel is very efficient..."

"But I'm not attracted to him." Kurtis decided that if his brother wanted to keep playing dumb, he was going to be more direct. "I like men, Ewan, that's why I'm not getting married."

"Oh." Ewan blushed. "Sorry," he muttered, lowering his eyes.

Kurtis sighed. But if his brother had been genuinely oblivious, his father didn't look surprised. King Konan shook his head with a smile.

"You're twenty-nine, Kurtis, do what you want," the king said.

"Thank you, Father."

Again, he left the castle at sunset, but Rohan wasn't at the pond.

Did I scare him off? Is he avoiding me? he wondered, disappointed.

Tomorrow was the last day of the tournament. If the Nameless Knight proved to be ugly or old, he'd go to the mansion where Rohan served and take him away.

But why wait until tomorrow when one could do things now?

***

Rohan wasn't asleep when he heard his name called in a low voice. The single small window of the attic was open, since the summer nights were warm enough to leave it that way, and the sudden, discreet call had made the night owls shut up.

He jumped out of bed and went to glance out of the window. Holding a lamp but mostly bathed in moonlight, Kurtis was looking up at all the windows of the manor, obviously looking for him. The prince was on horseback and he uttered another hushed, "Rohan!"

Rohan cursed under his breath. "Quiet!" he whispered back, leaning outside of the window.

"Come down," Kurtis replied softly. "Or I will raise my voice!"

Rohan signaled him to wait and retreated. He snorted and tugged at his hair. He was wearing a nightgown, but didn't want his stepmother to see the visitor. He pulled on a pair of breeches and quickly went downstairs, barefoot.

He slowly opened the front door, trying to avoid creaks and other revealing noises. Kurtis had dismounted and was waiting just outside.

"What are you doing here?" Rohan protested in a low voice, closing the door behind him and leaning on it.

"You weren't at the pond, so I thought I'd come here. Everybody seems asleep, so why don't you come with me? I promise to take you back before dawn, so they won't notice your absence."

"What? Why? Where would you take me?"

"To the pond, or if you know of a nice, hidden clearing where we could spend some time together..."

Rohan gaped. Kurtis seemed to tower over him, and the light of the lamp flickered on his face. What did the prince really want? Why was he sneaking out of the castle to come and see him?

His heart thundered in his chest as Kurtis's hand brushed his cheek.

"Come on, Rohan, I won't hurt you," the prince promised in a whisper.

"I... I can't." Rohan snapped out of whatever spell Kurtis's eyes were weaving upon him. "Please, Your Highness, go back to the castle now."

Kurtis stepped back, a little surprised.

"You know who I am?"

"Yes, and you shouldn't be here."

"Why not? I do as I please. I want you to come into my service, and I will speak to your masters as soon as the tournament is over."

"Oh." Rohan was breathless again.

He wasn't technically a servant. But he did depend on his stepmother, since he hadn't been knighted and hadn't inherited his father's title – not officially, at least.

He gulped as he straightened and took a step forward.

"You should forget me, Your Highness."

"I could never forget you, or your secret pond."

"The pond belongs to the king, and therefore to you. I will not go there anymore."

"But I want you to go there!" Kurtis stepped forward again, putting his free arm around Rohan's shoulders. "I want to meet you there every night if you don't want to come to the castle with me!"

Again Rohan flattened himself against the door to escape the prince's embrace.

"Please, Your Highness, leave me alone," he pleaded. Then he opened the door, slid inside and locked the door.

"Rohan!" Again that hushed call.

Rohan put his ear to the door and didn't move. He heard a sigh, then the horse snorted and moved away from the manor. Just to be certain, Rohan went to the window, but the courtyard was empty and dark.

Rohan exhaled. He couldn't deny he was attracted to Prince Kurtis, but he couldn't give in to his feelings, could he? What would King Konan think? Or his late father? He slowly went back to the attic, feeling the cold of the stone floor and stairs under his feet seep into his heart.

On the first floor landing, he found William waiting for him.

"When did you meet Prince Kurtis?" The question was a threatening whisper. A moon-ray coming from the corridor's window showed William's frown.

"Ah... he went through the forest on his way to Ker Noran," Rohan answered hesitantly. "I was picking berries when he startled me..."

"And he took a fancy to you?" William sounded skeptical.

Rohan shrugged. "I'm not leaving my father's house until I'm knighted," he said.

"Then you'll die here, Rohan." William scoffed. "Mother will never let you be knighted."

"I had guessed that much," Rohan retorted. "Good night, William."

He went back to the attic and slumped into bed, wondering what he should do now. Maybe he really shouldn't go to the last day of the tournament. But then, William was right. If he didn't earn himself a knighthood, he'd die in that manor, forgotten and unsung.

4.

The last day of the tournament meant the joust would continue with swords until one of the knights yielded or was defeated. One run against each other and then swords would be drawn to show off the swordsmanship.

Rohan managed to unsaddle a couple of opponents and kept the advantage of the saddle height to defeat them. William for some reason didn't participate and hid in the crowd, while Tristan was defeated by Prince Kurtis.

Again the Nameless Knight and the prince were the last two men standing. If it was because nobody wanted to hurt Prince Kurtis or because the prince was actually better was anyone's guess. Rohan's admiration for the prince's skills kept growing with every match and round of the tournament.

He lowered his lance and aimed at the prince's armored chest. Again the blow was so strong, he was unsaddled, but he quickly got back on his feet. Prince Kurtis jumped off the saddle and unsheathed his sword. The duel would continue on foot, then.

This was actually Rohan's first real duel. He channeled his father as best as he could and managed to give such a blow with the flat of his blade that the prince's helmet flew off. Both were breathless and stared at each other for a moment.

"I yield," Prince Kurtis said, offering his hand with a grin.

Rohan exhaled and squeezed the extended hand. Kurtis's firm grip held his fingers.

"Will you take off your helmet, now, sir knight?" the prince asked, dropping his sword.

"No, Your Highness," he answered, struggling to free his hand.

In spite of the limited view behind his visor, he saw the prince's hand reach for his head, so he raised his sword to block the attempt.

"Let go, Your Highness," he whispered threateningly.

Kurtis pulled back, raising both hands in surrender.

Rohan backed away, his sword still in front of him, then rushed to his horse. He sheathed his sword and climbed into the saddle, spurring the horse.

Only when he was in the stables did he remember he'd forgotten the shield on the tournament field. He groaned, but it was too late.

***

Kurtis cursed out loud when the Nameless Knight retreated from the battlefield without showing his face. His squire tapped on his shoulder as he was still muttering under his breath, unhappy with the outcome of the tournament.

"Your Highness, the Nameless Knight has forgotten his shield." The young man shyly offered the kite-shaped shield with leather strips covering the coat-of-arms.

"Take it to my room," Kurtis ordered. "I will check it later."

Now it was time to celebrate the end of the tournament, even though the champion was gone, and choose the knights for his retinue. As he headed for his room to bathe before the banquet, he met a blond knight who seemed to be waiting for him in the corridors of the upper floor of the castle.

"Your Highness." The knight bowed respectfully. "Have you, by any chance, found my shield?"

"Are you the Nameless Knight?" Kurtis asked, a little wary. Of course he'd have had the time to take off his chainmail, but the knight looked a little too fresh for being just back from a tournament.

"Yes, Your Highness." The blond young man bowed his head in false modesty. "I saw your squire retrieve my shield. I would like to have it back."

Kurtis let him into his bed chamber. The shield was against the wall near the door. Kurtis took it and ripped off the leather strips.

"This is Lord Alan's shield," he said, studying the coat-of-arms. He heard the blond young man hold his breath.

"Yes, he is my stepfather. I am Sir William de Roland. My mother, Lady Blandina, married Lord Alan."

"I see. Well, this is yours, then." Kurtis gave him the shield. "Well done. If you'll excuse me, now, I need to get ready for the banquet."

William bowed. "If there's anything I can do for you..."

Kurtis shooed him away. Was the young knight flirting with him? William had blue eyes all right, but Kurtis wasn't convinced he was the Nameless Knight. He remembered the names of the competing knights and Sir William had participated in the first two days of the tournament, along with the champion.

Kurtis took off his armor and clothes. The bath-tub looked less inviting than a pond in the forest, but he'd have to make do until it was all over and he could claim Rohan for his bed. As for the Nameless Knight, he was probably better off without him.

***

"I know what you've been up to." William crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Rohan with a smirk.

Rohan, who was tending the horses and hadn't looked up when his stepbrother had entered the stables, had to stop and look at William.

"Do you want me to unsaddle your horse and take care of it after today's exertions?" he asked, puzzled.

"You know perfectly well I didn't participate in the tournament today. You were there. In spite of having been forbidden. Where did you find this?"

William went around his horse and took something from the saddle. Lord Alan's shield, stripped of the leather strips.

"Does Prince Kurtis know who you are? Apparently not, since I managed to convince him I was the Nameless Knight..."

"You didn't!" Rohan threw away the horses' brushes and marched on his stepbrother. "That's mine, you have no rights to it!"

"Nobody knighted you, Rohan. You have no rights either," William teased, hiding the shield behind his back. "Now you better keep your mouth shut if you don't want me to expose you. Nobody wants to hear that a non-knight won the tournament!"

Rohan clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. William was right.

"Now tell me where I find the rest of the Nameless Knight's equipment, so I can receive all the prizes." William lifted his chin in challenge.

"I buried it with my father," Rohan replied through clenched teeth. "Since I can't be a knight, nobody will use his weapons to be one."

William scoffed and threw the shield at his feet.

"So, what's next, Rohan? Will you join Prince Kurtis in his bedroom? I heard he's a very good lover, especially for someone like you who never had that many occasions to play with sex..."

Rohan slapped him. "What is your intent, William? Besides shaming me in my own house, I mean. Didn't you have enough? What else do you want from me?"

"Nothing." William spat. "Just stay in your place, Cinder Boy. And take care of my horse."

William stormed out of the stables.

Rohan wanted to scream, but held it inside. He picked up the shield and hid it inside a manger in an empty stall. He unsaddled William's horse and finished his chores as stable-boy before heading back to the house.

William, Tristan and Lady Blandina were in the main hall, discussing the tournament. He didn't stop to listen and went upstairs. He pushed the wobbly bed-table in front of the old wardrobe again, making sure everything looked untouched in case they decided to check his room.

He lay on the bed, staring at the square hole of the window and wondering if William would give him away or not.

***

"So the Nameless Knight had Alan's shield?" King Konan asked, caressing his chin. He was alone with Kurtis in his chambers and had listened to his son's words carefully.

"But Sir William wouldn't use Alan's shield, would he?" Kurtis asked, worried. There was something wrong in William's claim.

"Well, Roland had two sons, so if his weapons went to the elder – Tristan, if I remember correctly – it makes sense that William would get Alan's equipment..." The king pondered again. "It did look like Alan's sword and armor, now that I think about it!"

"But didn't Alan have a son himself? Or did you keep him so busy that he didn't marry until Lady Blandina came along?"

"Oh, yes, he was married." King Konan smiled. "Lady Mathilde was the most beautiful maiden of her times. And she was madly in love with him. So I had to watch my best friend marry her and wish them happiness. They had a son, now that I think about it."

"So wouldn't Alan's son be entitled to his weapons? Who knighted him?"

"Nobody, as far as I know. I thought Lady Blandina would complete his knightly education along with her sons, but now that you're bringing this to my attention, only William and Tristan were knighted. I wonder what happened to Alan's son..."

"Maybe he didn't survive infancy?" Kurtis wondered. "What was his name anyway?"

"Rohan..."

Kurtis's heart jumped in his throat. "Rohan?" he asked with a shaky voice. "Rohan is Alan's son?"

"Alan's son was called Rohan, yes, why?" His father stared puzzled at him.

Kurtis cursed under his breath. He knew the manor where Rohan lived was Lord Alan's. The hidden warm pond was right behind the manor. And he'd thought for four days that Rohan was just a servant in the house...

"I think the Nameless Knight is Rohan de Alan, Father," he said, determined. "We should knight him and honor him as he deserves."

***

"You are not inheriting any of your father's things!" Lady Blandina screamed, outraged. "How could you hide your father's equipment from your brothers?"

"You never completed my knightly education," Rohan replied venomously. "Those things belong to me. I just proved to you all that I'm as good a knight as them, you can't stop me from claiming my rightful inheritance! I'm twenty-two and I will be the master of my own house!"

"Ha! And who's going to support your claim? You're the Cinder Boy, not a knight!"

"But he caught the eye of Prince Kurtis," William said. "Although he should probably be willing to give his highness his ass to get any favor..."

Rohan glared at him, but William simply scoffed.

"Rohan is not setting foot in the castle," Lady Blandina said. "Therefore he won't be able to petition the king, the prince or whoever else he's thinking to turn to!"

"Too late, Mother, I told you Prince Kurtis already noticed him," William insisted. "Were you all so soundly asleep last night?"

"I thought I heard whispers, but since you weren't in bed, I thought it was you," Tristan said.

"No, it was Prince Kurtis trying to lure Rohan into the woods."

The sound of horses and a carriage interrupted the discussion. Tristan was closer to the window opening onto the courtyard. He looked outside and gasped.

"It's the king!"

Lady Blandina pushed Rohan out of the main hall and into the kitchen as she told her sons to prepare for the royal visit. Rohan smiled ruefully and went to sit next to the cook, who patted his shoulder, hugging him like when he was a child.

"Everything will be all right, Rohan," she said.

"Only when those parasites are out of here," he grumbled.

***

Kurtis helped his aging father out of the carriage. He had wanted to come on his own – it would have been much faster on horseback – but he knew the king's presence was necessary in this case. Lady Blandina seemed to have a lot to answer for.

The herald introduced them to the main hall of the manor, where the lady curtsied deeply and her sons bowed respectfully. A royal servant opened the folding chair the king always carried with him and put a pillow on it before King Konan could sit. His gout had gotten worse while Kurtis was away, and he couldn't stand for long.

Kurtis remained standing by his father's side while Lady Blandina sat with her sons standing next to her.

"Your Majesty, to what do I owe this impromptu visit?" she asked.

"I was told the Nameless Knight who won the tournament had Lord Alan's shield," King Konan answered.

"Yes, it was me, like I told Prince Kurtis when I retrieved the shield," William said.

"I see. And what happened to Rohan?" The king stared curiously at Lady Blandina who paled.

"He... is not well. He was never knighted and certainly didn't attend the tournament," she said quickly. But she didn't look anyone in the eyes.

Lying bitch, Kurtis thought.

"I would love to see my dear friend Alan's weapons once more," King Konan said. "Please indulge this old man, will you?"

William nodded and headed out. Kurtis saw him enter the stables and, after some fussing, come out with the kite-shaped shield.

"That sick Cinder Boy hid the rest," William said, presenting the shield to the king. "I've tried to make him tell me where, but he wouldn't speak to me. Maybe you could convince him?"

"Who is this Cinder Boy?" the king asked, puzzled.

"Rohan," Lady Blandina answered. "I told you he is not well, Your Majesty. The loss of both his parents made his mind go away."

Kurtis raised his eyebrows. Rohan had looked perfectly normal and balanced for someone who was obviously treated like a servant in his own house.

"Why don't you summon him?" Kurtis said. "Maybe he will tell us where he hid his father's weapons."

Lady Blandina signaled to Tristan. She looked nervous now. Tristan came back with Rohan who kept his head hung and his eyes on his feet.

"Ah, yes, I see a lot of Alan in him!" King Konan beamed. "Come here, young man, my sight is not as good as it used to be."

Startled, Rohan approached and knelt in front of the king. He seemed riveted on the old man's face and Kurtis wanted to kiss him blind.

"Your Majesty..." Rohan whispered, shyly. "I know I wasn't supposed to take part in the tournament because I haven't been knighted, but I wanted to prove my worth and show everyone that my father's legacy is not lost..."

"It is not, indeed," King Konan said gravely, caressing his cheek. "Kurtis, will you please make a knight out of him?"

"Wait!" Lady Blandina rose, outraged. "You have no proof it was him! Anybody could be the Nameless Knight..."

Rohan sighed. He rose and slowly went to the stairs. "Your Majesty will trust his son's word? He shall be my witness, along with Tristan."

King Konan nodded and Kurtis hurried after Rohan, followed by Tristan. They went to the attic, and Rohan pushed away a bed table, opened a wardrobe and pulled out Lord Alan's armor and sword.

"That's where you hid it!" Tristan said.

"No, that's where my father put it when he buried my mother," Rohan answered. "I found it three days ago."

Kurtis grinned.

"Let's go back downstairs. I guess I shall make a knight of you, Sir Rohan."

Rohan finally looked at him and blushed. His sweet and shy smile was the best reward.

***

Rohan deposited his father's equipment at the feet of the king.

"Well, suit up, young man, so we can make a knight out of you and celebrate your victory in today's tournament," King Konan said cheerfully.

Rohan obeyed. His stepmother was quiet now and he could feel Tristan and William's envious eyes on him. He could also feel Kurtis's gaze as the prince helped him into the mail hauberk.

He knelt again and Kurtis unsheathed his sword to touch both his shoulders with the flat of the blade.

"Rise, Sir Rohan, you are now a knight."

"And my son's trusted lieutenant," King Konan added, clapping his hands. "He will be the captain, but you shall answer only to him, like your father did with me."

Rohan dared to look at the old king's face.

"Thank you, Your Majesty." He felt overwhelmed. He could see Kurtis's eyes on King Konan's face. He glimpsed the grin on Kurtis's face, then lowered his eyes again.

He was a knight. He had inherited his father's post. Things would change from now on.

"You will have your chambers at Ker Noran," Kurtis said. "Will you entrust your manor to your stepmother or would you rather find someone else?"

Rohan turned to look at Lady Blandina. She sat composed and defiant. Tristan and William both frowned, wondering if he'd kick them out of the house where they had abused him for so many years.

"She can stay, as long as she leaves as soon as I find a suitable bride," he said. "I'm sure William and Tristan will soon marry and move to their own manors. Unless she'd rather follow them, of course."

"I will not live off my stepson's charity." Lady Blandina rose and regally walked out of the room, followed by her sons.

Rohan sighed. As if she hadn't lived off her stepson for years.

"Do you want me to find someone to take care of the manor?" Kurtis asked.

"The servants will take care of it. I will let the extended family come back. They'll keep it clean and will have a roof over their heads for the time being."

"Very well." The king rose. "We shall wait for you at the banquet tonight. You can bring your things at your leisure tomorrow."

Kurtis allowed his father to lean on him as they went back outside and into the carriage.

"See you tonight," Kurtis whispered with a wink as the coachman turned the carriage around.

Rohan felt his cheeks burn. Now he was truly trapped.

***

Kurtis brightened when Rohan entered the great hall. Finally the young man wore clothes that showed his rank and he looked even more handsome than before.

Kurtis waited impatiently for the herald to show the guest his place, right between the king and Kurtis himself.

"Your Majesty." Rohan bowed to King Konan before taking his seat.

Kurtis leaned towards him.

"Did you bathe in your hot pond before coming?" he asked in a low voice.

"No, I tried the castle's bath chambers," Rohan answered, keeping his eyes on his plate, but smiling.

"Don't you think the pond is... more intimate?"

"It is, but I need to get used to a crowded castle, don't I?"

"What if I told you that you don't have to and can just use my bath-tub when you feel so inclined?"

Rohan's blue eyes stared at him.

"Your Highness, I guess we will have to talk about my duties. But not now, if you don't mind. I'm quite starved and all these dishes smell delicious."

"Then help yourself, Rohan. Tell me, have you ever been to a ball?"

"No, Your Highness, my social skills with the nobility are non-existent. I will have to learn that too."

"I will happily teach you everything," Kurtis assured him with an impish smile.

"I may not be ready for certain... teachings, Your Highness," Rohan warned, but he didn't sound angry or upset.

I will seduce you, Rohan.

Kurtis changed the subject, pointing out his favorite dishes. Rohan might be shy and introverted, but this only made him more interesting.

5.

Rohan hadn't slept so well in years. He'd been given a chamber with a big and soft curtained bed and private outhouse. There was a chest for his clothes and armor, a table and stools, and a cozy hearth that he didn't have to clean up.

There was also a door that connected to Prince Kurtis's private chambers, but he had locked it before going to bed. Except when he woke up, he found a note on the pillow next to his face.

You're beautiful even when you sleep. You look so peaceful, I can't bring myself to wake you up. Sweet dreams, Rohan. We have a lifetime to explore this.

Startled by the "K" at the end of the note, Rohan glanced at the door that led to the prince's rooms. The lock was unbolted. Probably Kurtis had entered from the main door on the corridor, when he'd found the internal door locked, but had gone back to his room the more direct way.

And he hadn't awoken him. Rohan blushed at the thought of what Kurtis hinted. He'd been so isolated at the manor, he didn't think he could actually function in the crowded castle.

He hid the note in the chest, and quickly dressed and shaved.

He went to the great hall to grab a pastry and see if the royal family was already up. He had obviously overslept in the comfortable bed, since they were all there. King Konan, Prince Kurtis, Prince Ewan and his wife, Princess Johanna...

Rohan was about to sit at the courtiers' table when he saw the king signaling him. A little puzzled, he went onto the dais and bowed at King Konan.

"Good morning, Your Majesty. How are your feet today?"

"Eh, still hurting." The king shrugged. "Have you met Ewan and Johanna? This is Kurtis's new lieutenant."

"The Nameless Knight, yes, we heard of him," Prince Ewan said with a smile.

"And also Lord Alan's son," Kurtis added proudly. "Now in his rightful place."

"That would be with the prince heir," King Konan commented without looking at anyone in particular but smiling broadly.

Kurtis cleared his throat and smiled. "Yes, well, he's still the best man protecting the royal family," he said. "Rohan, please, help yourself to some pastries and then we can begin our day."

"And what is my duty today?" Rohan asked as Kurtis passed him a tray of sweet smelling cupcakes.

"You will have to familiarize yourself with the castle grounds," Kurtis replied as Rohan picked a pastry. "I understand you haven't been allowed to come in the past ten years or so."

"True." Rohan nodded. "And will I need further knightly training?"

"I don't think so," Prince Ewan said with a chuckle. "You almost beat the shit out of my brother! Who taught you anyway?"

"My father, and then I watched my stepbrothers train with their uncle." Rohan shrugged. The pastry was delicious, but it was gone in two bites. He leaned over the table to pick another. He didn't dare sit with the royal family.

"Very well, let's make our first inspection." Kurtis rose as Rohan quickly finished the second cupcake.

Rohan followed the prince outside the great hall and through the castle corridors. When they reached the top of the castle tower, they spent some time watching the landscape. From that height, they could see the hexagon of the outer walls, the river, the faraway coastline. And the mountains.

"And your manor." Kurtis pointed at the brown spot against the green of the trees. "And the secret pond behind it. How about a ride and a hot bath?"

"Your Highness, I appreciated you letting me sleep and not embarrassing me last night. But I'd really like to know where this is headed and if I have a choice in the matter."

"Of course you have a choice." Kurtis grinned. "I want you in my bed, but I won't force you."

Even though he was expecting this, Rohan blushed.

"I... I don't think... I don't deserve such an honor," he blurted out, feeling his cheeks on fire.

"Why not?" Kurtis stepped closer and caressed his cheek. "You're young, handsome, of noble blood... What's missing?"

"I just... I don't think I..."

"You don't know what you want. You're a virgin, aren't you?"

Rohan gulped and nodded, staring at his feet.

"Well, I'll let you play with women first, if that's what you want," Kurtis said, stepping back. "You know where to find me when you're ready."

And with a dazzling smile, he headed back for the lower floors.

Rohan had to take long, calming breaths before following him down the spiral staircase and into the castle main building.

***

Kurtis sat under his favorite willow on the river shore. Rohan was busy socializing at the castle and the prince felt the need to get away from the hustle and bustle for a while. What he had appreciated the most while in Moriana was the fact that he was just another prince, a hopeful who may or may not become the next Moren Emperor, but nobody actually gave him a second glance.

At Ker Noran he was still the prince. Maybe not the heir, since his father had announced that Ewan would inherit the castle and Kurtis would be his trusted captain, but still the prince. There were still ladies who wanted his babies, in spite of the fact he had made it clear he didn't want to get involved with any of them.

And watching those same ladies surround Rohan got on his nerves. He knew Rohan would have his rightful experiences with women before – hopefully – surrendering to him. Now that they had talked about it, he wasn't going to try anything until he saw Rohan was ready.

"Hey, Kurtis, you're back at last!"

The cheerful voice startled him. From the river emerged three pale beings with tunics of a nacreous fabric and eyes the color of the water they had come from. All three had chestnut brown hair, and the one female had a longer tunic. They could probably pass off as Humans if they wore different clothes, but Kurtis knew who they were.

He brightened at the sight of his Waiora friends. They lived in the Wated and he had met their "cousins" of the River Ondan when in Moriana, but he knew he was lucky. The Waiora didn't like to show themselves to Humans after Humans had taken down their kingdom.

One of the four Magical Races, the Waiora had taken part in the creation of the succession spell weaved for the first Moren Emperor some three centuries earlier. Kurtis had heard the story from them – the descendants – since Ker Noran was too remotely far from Moriana to have heard of the Empire.

Busy with the tournament, the Nameless Knight and his infatuation with Rohan, Kurtis had forgotten his secret friends, but now he was happy they'd showed up.

"Good to see you," Kurtis said as the three sat around him on the grass. "I missed you."

Mostly he'd missed Mekhi, who stared at him with his luscious lips curved into a smile. Next to him sat his sister Maxene along with her vivkunulo (or life-mate), Warin.

"Really?" Maxene giggled. "I thought you had lots of fun in Moriana!"

"How do you know what I did in Moriana? It's miles away!"

"News swims pretty fast, trust me." Mekhi winked. "So how was Sir Michael?"

Startled, Kurtis looked at Mekhi.

His meeting with the handsome Waiora had awakened his senses when he was barely seventeen. Mekhi had been his first male lover, and he'd been madly in love. But then after a couple of years of secret meetings, Mekhi had vanished for a few days.

The members of the Magical Races weren't liars and when he'd come back, Mekhi had admitted he'd had his parigha nagho, or mating swim. Kurtis's sudden violent jealousy had ended their relationship and extinguished his passion for the handsome Waiora.

Both had moved on since, even though they were still quite fond of each other.

"Are you still jealous of my Human lovers?" Kurtis asked, amused. "They can't compare to you, and you know it!"

Mekhi chuckled. "And they can't stick to you even though you don't have to hide your meetings with them."

"I do, I was prince heir until I went to Moriana, I was supposed to marry and breed." Kurtis shrugged.

"But then in Moriana you felt free to do as you pleased, away from your people's eyes," Maxene said. "So how's the homecoming?"

"It's been great." Kurtis pondered. "I met someone, and to tell the truth, at first I thought he was one of you."

"Why would you think that?" Warin asked, puzzled. "Where did you meet him?"

"In a warm pond at the edge of the forest. He was naked and had stark blue eyes, so I thought... But then I saw his clothes and his house, and then I knew he was Human."

"Would that be Rohan de Alan?" Mekhi asked with an impish smile.

"Do you know him?"

"Any Human who often goes to a body of water is known to us, Kurtis," Maxene teased. "You should know!"

Kurtis smiled. His love for swimming in the river had brought him to the attention of the Waiora siblings at first, then to the whole underwater community that lived along the Wated, especially near Ker Noran.

"Did you show yourselves to him?" he asked.

"No, that pond is secluded enough to grant him privacy." Mekhi shrugged. "But one of us has been keeping an eye on him."

"So you should know I met him five days ago."

"We didn't talk to her yet. She lives up near the source of that stream and doesn't come down very often. So, where is Rohan now?"

"At the castle, socializing for the first time in his life..." Kurtis sighed. "His stepmother kept him as a servant, so he has a lot of catching up to do on his knightly life."

"Why don't you tell him to come over to the river?" Maxene suggested. "Or does he like only warm ponds?"

"I haven't asked him." Kurtis grinned. "I didn't even manage to take him back to the pond where we met yet. Maybe I should suggest a day-trip on the river!"

"We'll make sure the currents push you to a secluded green alcove," Mekhi promised with a smile.

"Thank you." Kurtis pondered some more. Yes, he should definitely take Rohan away from the castle at some point. Be it the pond or a river trip or a ride somewhere... he must find the right excuse, and then Rohan would be his.

***

Rohan had never been so much the center of everybody's attention. Beautiful maidens competed for a word with him, young knights wanted to know how he defeated them even though he hadn't been properly knighted, older nobles kept telling him he was just like his father... He felt a little overwhelmed!

Over the first few weeks of his moving to the castle, life was so busy he had no time to think. Learning court etiquette and what was expected of him as a knight, socializing with his peers and adjusting to the new life made him crumble in bed at night without thinking about nightly visits.

Lady Blandina, Tristan and William sulked as he met everyone at Ker Noran and tried to remember all the names and faces at once. Which was of course impossible, but his mistakes were endearing, especially to the ladies who swooned even more for him.

Kurtis showed him the easier dance steps, so his first official ball went smoothly. No, it was actually a success, he decided, as he passed from one lady to another, not wanting to leave anyone out. Of course by the end of the evening he was exhausted and his feet ached, but he felt he had found his place at the castle.

He retired with Kurtis who had quietly watched him all night, nodding his approval from time to time. The prince had hit the dance-floor less often than him, but then, he was probably bored by those noble pastimes that were so new to Rohan.

"Have you found anyone in particular that you fancy?" Kurtis asked as they stopped in the corridor between their rooms' doors.

"Ah, no, they're all so pretty and sweet and..." Rohan didn't know how to voice how he was feeling. Exhilarated but tired but happy but scared but... "I wonder if I should ask the king to choose one for me."

"I wonder if you should just wait until your heart settles on someone," Kurtis said. "You're young, you don't have to marry within the year, you know?"

"Right, sorry, I don't know what's bugging me. I guess too much at the same time."

Kurtis put his hands on Rohan's shoulders. "Get some sleep, Rohan. Give yourself time. Don't make hasty decisions, will you?"

Of course, he wants me to consider him as well. And why shouldn't I? He's handsome, sweet... Kurtis's stare made him feel warm and his touch made him shiver, but he didn't want to give in to that fire burning inside him until he tried women.

"Good night, Your Highness," he said, bowing his head. "I shall not oversleep tomorrow morning in spite of the late hour."

"Do you want me to call you when I wake up?" Kurtis asked with a smile.

"Why not?" Rohan blushed.

"Then don't lock the internal door, and I'll make sure to let you know I'm up."

Kurtis winked and headed for his door. Rohan exhaled and went to his own room, slumping onto the bed and staring at the canopy for a moment.

He could have done what he wanted ever since I came here, even though I locked the internal door... I may as well leave it open. He won't do anything I'm not ready for.

He didn't know why he trusted Kurtis. Maybe because he was attracted to the prince. Or maybe because Kurtis had promised to wait.

Rohan sighed and prepared for bed. He was about to switch off the lamp when a soft knock startled him.

Barefooted, he went to the door and found one of the noble maidens in the corridor with a candle, her hair loose on her shoulders, wearing only a pale nightgown.

"May I?" she asked, batting her eyelids.

"I don't think it's proper..."

She pushed him back and entered the room. She put down her candle and threw her arms around his neck. She kissed him hungrily.

He didn't even know her name, but he played along. It was a wonderful night to lose his virginity.

6.

Kurtis had heard some clearly female giggles come from Rohan's room as well as some very sexy moans from the handsome young man, but he hadn't bothered watching. Well, at least now Rohan had tried women, maybe he'd soon be ready to try something else.

When he opened the internal door, Kurtis hoped that whoever had spent the night with Rohan was gone. He was wrong. He recognized the blond curls of Isabel, William and Tristan's cousin who had also tried to convince him to marry her.

Considering the high contempt Lady Blandina had for her stepson, Kurtis wondered why Isabel had bothered seducing Rohan. Probably the young man's new position had made him a most wanted bachelor at the castle.

Kurtis cleared his throat and shook Rohan's foot. The young man was startled awake and he blushed when he realized he was naked and with a nude young woman by his side.

"I'll be ready in a moment, Your Highness," he grumbled, trying to cover both himself and his lover with the bed-sheet.

"I'll be next door." Kurtis went back to his own room, a little pissed off. Not at innocent Rohan, but at the bitch who had carved her way into his bed. He'd better talk to Isabel before she broke Rohan's heart.

Isabel laughed when he told her to handle Rohan with care.

"Don't worry, Your Highness, he hasn't fallen in love with me," she said with a smirk. "Unless tonight he comes to my room, in that case you might start to worry. He may have liked last night more than you ever did."

"Stop going around and breaking young men's hearts," he said sternly. "Or I'll tell my father to find you a suitable husband."

"Sir Rohan would be perfect, Your Highness," she teased. "Besides, I haven't broken your heart, have I?"

"Just because my heart isn't touched by women's arts doesn't mean that I don't see what you do to others," he replied. "You did break my brother's heart."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, Gods, that was so long ago! We were both still children!"

"He might have been a child, but you definitely weren't anymore. Quit fooling around, Isabel, or I'll have you evicted from the castle."

She frowned at him and grumbled something.

"What did you say?" He glared back at her.

"As your highness wishes," she said with a mock curtsy before storming away.

Kurtis snorted. But now he was curious to hear Rohan's side.

"Ride with me to the pond," he said. "I fancy a bath in that natural pool."

Rohan nodded and obediently followed him to the stables and out of the castle. They didn't speak until they were both immersed in the warm water, naked.

Rohan was very modest, taking off his clothes while trying to hide his privates as much as he could. He obviously wasn't used to communal baths.

"So, how was your night?" Kurtis asked, relaxing in the pond.

"Interesting," Rohan answered without looking at him.

"You realize she's your stepbrothers' cousin, don't you?"

"Ah, yes, Isabel... I hadn't met her until I came to live at the castle. She made sure to introduce herself as soon as she could. Although I admit at first I couldn't remember her name when she knocked on my door."

"Do you regret letting her in?"

"Uh, no, but... I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't have? Will I have to marry her now?"

Kurtis chuckled. "No, not really. You're not her first lover, and probably not the last either. Her father has given up hope of marrying her off – unless he sends her far from Ker Noran, which wouldn't be that bad."

"I guess not..." Rohan stared into space. "I'd like to try more if you don't mind."

"As long as you don't let them break your heart."

"What if you break my heart?" Finally Rohan looked him in the eyes, serious.

"I wouldn't," Kurtis assured him. "I'd never hurt you or do anything against your will. I'd love to spend my life with you, but if you're uncomfortable with the thought and want to get married instead, that's fine too. I'll help you choose your bride. Just forget Isabel, you deserve much better."

"Thank you." Rohan's smile blossomed and made Kurtis's heart beat faster.

After weeks of watching Rohan adjust to his new life, the prince only fell for him more. It would be very hard to give up on Rohan. But if he really loved the young man, he must set him free.

***

Another week passed. Rohan was getting used to the crowds of Ker Noran. Whenever he felt overwhelmed, he retired to the manor for an hour or two to recharge his energies, spoiled by the cook and the gardener and their daughter and husband and children who had gone back to the servants' quarters, like when his parents were alive.

Rohan didn't go to Isabel's room, but tried a couple more noble maidens. Somehow he felt he wasn't living up to their expectations, so he even asked a whore working at the village tavern to show him some tricks to please women.

Kurtis's eyes always followed him everywhere, but the prince hadn't repeated his offer. He hadn't followed him to the manor or met him at the pond again, as if Kurtis was giving Rohan time to make up his mind.

Rohan was very conflicted. Sometimes he wanted to nestle against Kurtis and just let the prince take care of him. But he wasn't Cinder Boy anymore and he couldn't afford to be so dependent on someone else.

The old king was always very benevolent towards him, and often asked him how he fared, and if he wanted to settle with a wife and start his own family. Rohan didn't feel like lying to King Konan, so he answered invariably that he was still young and hadn't made up his mind, which made the king both smile and sigh.

"Just like Kurtis," the old man muttered, but he didn't look angry.

Prince Ewan was Tristan's age, but seemed to like Rohan and often invited him to his table to play games or chat with him and his noble friends. Kurtis seemed to be more introvert, never really mixing with the castle life and often riding off on his own along the river shore.

"Would you like to come with me?" Kurtis asked one day before leaving for a stroll.

"I thought you treasured these lonely walks," Rohan answered, a little embarrassed.

"You can be very quiet, and I'm sure you wouldn't bother me with useless chatter," Kurtis replied with a smile.

Rohan was kind of curious to know more about the prince, so he followed him along the river bank. They sat under a willow and Kurtis told him that was his secret place.

"I've discovered yours, the warm pond in the woods, it seems fair that I introduce you to mine," he said with a grin.

"It's... very peaceful," Rohan said.

The river flowing in front of them made enough noise to cover any man-made sound coming from the castle. The branches of the willow provided shelter from view. The grass was soft and green.

"You can't come here in the winter," Kurtis said. "I hope you don't mind if we go to the pond instead. It must be great even when it's surrounded by snow."

"Well, you need to get in the water quickly if you don't want to freeze," Rohan replied, amused.

"So you've done it, I take it?"

"Yes, quite often. Although it wasn't easy to sneak out of the house in winter, when my stepmother didn't leave to visit her relatives."

Kurtis chuckled.

"We could move to your manor this winter. Things slow down at the castle anyway, and nobody would be so foolish to start a war in winter."

Rohan nodded, thoughtful. It was an interesting thought. Luckily winter was still a few months away. Who knew what could happen between now and then.

***

Kurtis knew he was in love. Totally head over heels for Rohan. Sometimes he thought he'd never have the patience to wait for Rohan to open his door to him. Sometimes he was content with watching him interact with people, thinking Rohan deserved all the honors he was receiving after winning the tournament.

Maybe I should let him marry and breed, Kurtis thought, lying on his bed as the sun went down. Maybe I should just go back to Moriana and find someone there. Although even Michael wasn't Rohan and we'd gotten sick of each other.

When would he get bored with Rohan? And would he get bored? Apparently his crushes didn't last more than two or three years, and then he yearned for freedom again. Maybe he'd better stay away from Rohan, lest he indeed broke Rohan's heart, even though he had promised not to.

But then, he'd been obsessed with Rohan for two full months already. What if it was just because Rohan resisted him? What if when Rohan surrendered, he started looking for another pastime?

Sometimes he really wished he could consult with someone – anyone. But Mekhi would tell him to get that love and his father... Kurtis wasn't sure what his father would say anymore. Maybe the old man was more similar to him than he thought.

He heard noises in the next room. Maybe Rohan had finally come to bed. Kurtis had left the discussion for the upcoming royal hunt before it was over, knowing his "lieutenant" would stay until the end and tell him everything in the morning.

But why wait until morning? Maybe they could discuss it now.

Kurtis rose from the bed and headed for the internal door. It wasn't locked anymore, and he opened it. As he stepped into Rohan's bedroom, he realized someone was seated on Rohan's bed, but it wasn't Rohan. It was William.

"What are you doing here?" Kurtis asked, frowning.

"I thought you might feel lonely," William answered, throwing away the bedsheets to show he was naked. "Rohan is probably spending the night with Maid Eleonor. I was about to come knocking on your door, in fact."

He got out of bed and sauntered towards Kurtis. He had none of Rohan's innocence and his impish smile showed he knew exactly what he was doing. William was just like his cousin Isabel.

"When you have enough of waiting for him, I'm at your disposal," William said, stopping in front of the prince and putting his arms around Kurtis's neck. "And I can play the virgin, if that's what you want..."

Kurtis scoffed.

"I want Rohan, not you," he said, freeing himself from William's embrace. "Get dressed, William, neither you nor Isabel have room in my bed."

William's smile vanished. "As you wish, Your Highness. You don't know what you're missing."

He wiggled his ass impertinently and picked up his clothes. He shot a defiant stare at Kurtis and left.

***

Rohan gasped, seeing William coming out of his room with his clothes and shoes in his hands.

"What were you doing there?" he demanded, blocking his stepbrother in the middle of the corridor.

"Giving Prince Kurtis what you're denying him," William replied mockingly. "We spent a delightful hour together."

"William, you're disgusting!"

"Maybe, but he's tired of you holding him at arm's length. At least he had some fun with me." William winked. "If you pull the rope too hard it will break, Rohan..."

And moving around stunned Rohan, William went down the corridor, whistling a cheerful tune.

Rohan snapped back to reality and turned to look, but William had vanished behind the bend of the corridor. Rohan gulped and entered his room.

The door to Kurtis's chamber was closed. On tiptoes, Rohan went to put his ear over the wood of the door. No sound came from the other room.

Rohan undressed and went to bed. He turned off the oil lamp and noticed that no light came from the other room from under the door, therefore Kurtis must be asleep. After having sex with William.

Somehow the thought was very distressing.

7.

Rohan awoke from a restless night of bad dreams. He didn't remember any of them, but he knew somehow he had seen Kurtis and William naked together. The fact that he didn't actually remember what they looked like was even more upsetting.

He got out of bed and was rather grumpy when he reached the great hall. His stomach was clenched close, so he didn't eat. He went to ask Prince Ewan if he needed anything, bowed at King Konan and left.

Kurtis might still be asleep, or maybe already out for a ride or a check up of the battlements, but Rohan didn't care. His feet took him outside of the castle walls and to the river shore as he pondered his situation.

He really didn't know what to do. He felt both attracted and repelled by the thought of what Kurtis could do to him. He had heard some drunk guards one day mentioning their abuse of another guard who happened to be younger and probably more effeminate than the rest. What they did to him pushed him to end his life in shame.

Rohan didn't want to end his life in shame. He didn't want to be used like a woman. He wasn't as shameless as William, who obviously had had all kinds of experiences at the castle, while he was stuck at the manor, cleaning hearths.

He reached the willow where Kurtis liked to sit. The prince wasn't there. Snorting, Rohan sat under the weeping branches and hugged his knees. Maybe Kurtis would come later and they could talk...

A sudden splash startled him. A head emerged from the water, and then a pale young man came out of the river to sit next to him. Water-blue eyes stared at him and luscious lips curved into a smile.

"Hello, Rohan," the young man said.

"You know my name?" Rohan asked, puzzled.

"You are well known to the Waiora community, Rohan... especially now that you've caught Kurtis's eye."

"Waiora..." Rohan repeated the word, uncertain.

"We are the water people. We can turn into seals or dolphins. Can't you see the fabric of my tunic is different from yours?"

Rohan opened his mouth, but then closed it. Indeed the young man's tunic was sleeveless and of a nacreous fabric. He didn't wear breeches and had sandals that tied up to his knees. He wasn't Human, now that Rohan observed him closely.

"Waiora, do you know Prince Kurtis well?" he dared to ask, a little awed at the thought of being in the presence of a member of the mythical and often invisible Magical Races.

"My name is Mekhi, and yes, I've known Kurtis for years. I was his first love, but in his youthful rashness, he soon got over me."

This time Rohan openly gaped. Mekhi smiled ruefully.

"Yes, I was unlucky, or maybe we were both too young to handle the passion in our veins... but now he is an adult and he knows what he wants."

"And what does he want?" Rohan asked shyly.

"You." Mekhi stared at him. "You're the one who could be by his side forever."

Rohan averted his eyes.

"I'm not sure... I don't think I deserve... I mean, what are we supposed to do together?" He looked at Mekhi again, worried.

"Love and cherish each other," Mekhi answered.

"And the sex part?"

Mekhi grinned. "You're afraid of the sex part?"

Rohan gulped and nodded.

"Don't be afraid." Mekhi leaned towards him. "Kurtis would never hurt you. You own his heart, you can do what you want with him."

The Waiora pulled back and looked beyond Rohan in the direction of the castle.

"Uh-oh! Here he comes! Good luck!"

Mekhi winked and quickly dived back into the river. When Kurtis reached Rohan, even the circles in the water had vanished.

But Kurtis wasn't blind.

"So, you met my friend Mekhi?" he asked, sitting next to Rohan with an amused smile.

"Ah, yes, he's... charming," Rohan answered, embarrassed. He dared to look at the prince. "Did you enjoy William's company?" he asked boldly.

"I didn't touch him," Kurtis replied, shaking his head. "Even though he threw himself at me, I couldn't care less. He's not you. He's just like Isabel. They have no power over me."

"And I do?"

Kurtis grinned. "You sure do," he whispered, leaning towards Rohan. "I'd do anything for you. Including finding you a bride, if that's what you want."

"No, it's not what I want." Rohan shrugged and looked away.

"So... what do you want?" Kurtis elbowed him and waited.

Rohan let go of his knees and turned to face the prince.

"I want to be with you, but I don't know how."

Kurtis took a deep breath, caressed Rohan's cheek. "I do," he murmured before leaning forward and kissing him.

***

Gods, he tastes good! Kurtis could never have enough of Rohan's eager mouth. He pulled Rohan's body closer and they rolled in the grass together, away from the willow's interlacing roots.

Rohan pulled away to gasp for breath, but Kurtis could feel his hardness against him. Rohan's eyes were wide with desire and fear.

"You... will not hurt me?" he pleaded.

"Never," Kurtis assured him, stroking Rohan's dark hair.

Rohan leaned to kiss him again. "I want you, but..."

"Don't worry, I know what to do."

Kurtis rolled over him and lay him down on the grass, slowly opening his tunic with butterfly kisses. Rohan moaned and closed his eyes as Kurtis explored him with hands and mouth. Soon Rohan was naked in all his glorious beauty, but Kurtis still had his clothes on.

Giving Rohan pleasure was the best thing that Kurtis could do. Listening to his groans of enjoyment and sighs of passion took his breath away. And when Rohan reopened his eyes, drowsy with spent passion, Kurtis lost himself in that blue.

He could die for Rohan. He could adore Rohan's body for eternity. He hoped Rohan would be by his side forever.

"Why are you still clothed?" Rohan asked with a little smile.

"Because it was all about you, and I wanted you to relax and feel good," Kurtis answered. "There will be time for you to explore me and return my caresses..."

Rohan hugged him. "Mmm... maybe I could start now..."

"Maybe you should rest now," Kurtis replied tenderly. "I told you, we have the rest of our lives to enjoy each other."

Rohan sighed in contentment, his eyelids heavy. "I love you, Kurtis," he whispered before dozing off.

"I love you too," Kurtis answered, caressing his lover as he slept.

Good thing he liked watching Rohan sleep. He covered the naked body with the clothes when the breeze picked up speed, and Rohan stirred awake.

"Maybe we better go back to the castle," Kurtis suggested as Rohan quickly dressed. "Are you hungry?"

"I'm famished," Rohan admitted. "I didn't have breakfast..."

Kurtis grinned. "Good. Then we'll eat, and then we'll retire to our rooms and continue this exploration, what do you say?"

"Your wish is my command, Your Highness," Rohan answered with his shy smile.

Alion Albright

Alion dreamed of Ethan's naked body again. He was roaming it and Ethan moaned at him to take him. Alion awoke with a boner and started touching himself, thinking about his friend.

Ethan Redmark was gorgeous. Brown hair and eyes, they were the same age, young warriors in training within the walls of Caer Nittak. Except Alion was the clan leader's son.

Blond and blue-eyed like his father, Alion Albright decided it was time to make his wet dreams come true. As he sat outside the walled town's enclosure with Ethan, he pondered his move.

They sat under a tree, watching the people milling around the walls and listening to bird-songs. Their conversation had trailed off after they'd exchanged their daily pleasantries, and Alion was trying to find a way to tell his friend how he felt.

"What's wrong with you, Alion?" Ethan asked. "You're so quiet lately..."

"I'm trying to find the courage to tell my feelings to the one I love," Alion answered with his heart in his throat.

"You're in love?" Ethan grinned. "Wonderful! With whom?"

Now or never!

Alion looked Ethan in the eyes.

"With you, Ethan."

Ethan's eyes widened in shock, then he frowned and looked away.

"Alion Albright, you've lost your mind!" Ethan snapped.

Alion didn't feel deterred by his friend's reaction and he pressed on.

"I want to spend my life with you and..."

"And what? We're both men, what could we do?" Ethan protested.

"I can show you if you want." Alion leaned forward, ready to make his dreams into reality. "I want you, Ethan." He pulled his friend closer and kissed him.

The kiss felt different from the dreams, but he could never have enough of tasting Ethan's lips.

"No!" Ethan pushed him away with a scowl. "Leave me alone, demon!"

He jumped to his feet and ran away. Alion sighed. So much for expressing his feelings. Just because he was attracted to another young man instead of women – was he really a demon?

***

"Alion!"

"Yes, Father?"

Breon signaled his son to get into his chamber, away from servants and friends. A private talk. Alion hoped his father wasn't going to tell him he'd found him a suitable bride.

"Ethan came to me," Breon said, frowning. "He complained about your behavior. How could you kiss him? How dare you keep looking at him that way?"

Alion lowered his eyes. So Ethan had given him away. Still, Alion didn't feel guilty for his feelings.

"I love him, Father," he whispered, staring at his feet.

"Damn you, even you, the seed of my loins!" Breon cursed under his breath. "The same wicked sickness of your uncles! What have I done to deserve a son like you? Kolia has gone back to the right way, but Axel is still lost to the vice..."

Alion gaped at his father. He had no idea of what Breon was talking about.

"Take your things and leave Caer Nittak!" Breon said, determined. "I can't allow my own son to bring evil back to town. Go find Axel!"

"But Father..."

Alion was dismissed with no further explanation. Still shocked, he went to his mother to plead for mercy.

"What did I do wrong? Why am I being exiled? What is this all about?" he complained.

"They call it vice, my son. Your Uncle Kolia had it, and so did his brother Axel and my brother Ryan, whom you've never met," his mother said with a sad look on her still beautiful face. "Your father was a victim of it, that's why he can't stand it."

"But I didn't force myself on anyone! I didn't do anything evil!" Alion protested.

"I know, Alion." His mother tried to soothe him with a light caress. "Come back with a wife and you'll be the heir of Caer Nittak again. A clan leader needs a woman to have a lot of children. Otherwise you must give up your birthright and find your destiny away from Caer Nittak, like your Uncle Axel. I'll miss you, but I can't fight your father's will."

She hugged him and he knew she'd always love him, even if he decided to leave Caer Nittak and follow his inclinations. His heart was heavy when he exited the town gates, though. Everything he'd always known was left behind after twenty winters in the castle of his family at Caer Nittak.

***

Alion reached Caer Lugh, another small town of the northern tribes located in a valley. It looked very old-fashioned and was best-known for its autumn festival and its fine dining. Also, there were all sorts of old artifacts still lying around the area. But the real reason Alion reached its gates was that his Aunt Beria had married the lord of Caer Lugh.

Eleven slim, round towers surrounded the castle, reaching twice the height of the walls and connected by reinforced, massive walls made of green stone. Crude windows were scattered generously around the walls in seemingly perfect symmetry.

A huge gate with large wooden doors, a regular bridge and hot oil pots guarded the stronghold. Small buildings, houses and other structures populated the grounds outside the castle walls, homes for the poorest of the poor. The castle showed signs of expansion as some parts were clearly built more recently than others, and the inhabitants were already working on another part and hoped to keep expanding.

Alion wondered if Aunt Beria would allow him to stay or at least point him to where Uncle Axel might have gone. He knocked on the castle doors and was taken to the lady's chamber. Beria the Adventurer, once an intrepid warrior woman, now wore a gown and had put down her sword to be a mother and a castle owner.

"Alion! Gods, you've grown up! You look just like your father! What brings you to Caer Lugh?"

"Know, Auntie, that my father exiled me because I dared kiss Ethan Redmark," Alion answered, a little gloomy. "Do you know where Uncle Axel lives?"

He vaguely remembered his father's brother who had left Caer Nittak when he was eight or nine to be with a man. But he had no idea of where he could have gone.

"I see, Breon struck again." Beria smiled. "Axel first, now you... Years ago he forced Kolia to choose between Joris and Caer Nittak!"

"Who's Joris?" Alion asked. So he wasn't the only one – besides Axel? Uncle Kolia had never mentioned a male lover! Maybe he should have talked to him before leaving Caer Nittak in wounded haste.

"He's a Genn. He and Kolia were lovers for fifteen years," Beria answered with an amused smile.

"And then?" Alion asked.

"And then, and then... Kolia decided he didn't love him anymore, so he dumped him and came back to Caer Nittak where he married Brenda. The rest you know." Beria shrugged.

"Why doesn't he ever mention that Joris?" Alion was still incredulous at the discovery.

"I guess he prefers forgetting that in his life he has loved only two men, even though he's very fond of Brenda. But he belongs to Joris and Ryan."

"You mean Uncle Ryan whom I never met?"

"Yes."

"When did he die?"

"Before you were born, killed by Kolia."

Alion gasped and frowned.

"I don't understand... he loved him and he killed him?"

"You've been raised to be warriors," Beria said. "Kolia couldn't understand his feelings and what he really wanted. He was young and he thought he hated Ryan. Too late he figured out he actually loved him. And thus he ruined his relationship with Joris."

Alion gaped at her.

"For Axel it was different," she continued. "His upbringing and education were never completed. He's been a bed slave for years, then, as a free man, he finally admitted his love for Orio. There has been a war between Albright and Cadwaller, did you know? It's because of Jehan Cadwaller's obsession with male lovers. Many died and many more were abused."

My grandfather started all this? Alion couldn't believe his ears. Although Kolia was an Albright, like him. He stared amazed at his aunt, who finished the story.

"Your father was raped during the war, that's why the vice is for him the worst sin. That's why he exiled you even though you're his son. Unlike Axel, he never liked male lovers."

"How could I know..." Alion sighed.

"What would it change?" Beria smiled. "You'd deny your feelings, like Kolia did, to please your father?"

"I... don't know... can I stay here for a while, Auntie?" Alion asked, unsure.

"Sure, you're welcome!"

***

Alion was reacquainted with his cousins Elan, eighteen, Gaia, sixteen, and Leo, fourteen. Caer Nittak and Caer Lugh were too far to keep in touch and visit each other often, and Alion hadn't seen them in years. Aunt Beria had recognized him only because he looked like his father, but he had changed too.

Elan had his father's raven hair and blue eyes, Gaia was just like her mother in her warrior woman's days and Leo was still growing up, but the more time he spent with him, the more Alion thought he was cute.

A fortnight later Beria called him into her chamber again. She wore her men's clothes and her sword, and had braided her hair. Alion had to admit that Beria the Adventurer was intimidating.

"Alion, listen... You're twenty, but Leo is fourteen and he's your cousin. He's not ready," she said sternly. "You can love all the men you want, as long as they're not related to you. Go to Salamar and find a man who really loves you."

"You're kicking me out too." Alion pouted like when he was a child.

"Alion, don't be childish," she replied bluntly. "And don't lie to me, I know you're considering Leo as a lover."

"Why not relatives? Cousins get married all the time..." Alion said.

"Alion... I said no! Garion wouldn't allow it!"

"Fine, I'll leave," he muttered, looking away.

Leo cheerfully waved him good-bye, oblivious. Beria hadn't told her husband and Elan looked sad to see him go.

Gritting his teeth, Alion headed south without looking back.

***

What Alion knew about Salamar, capital of the namesake kingdom, he had heard from Uncle Kolia and his wife Brenda. It was a big town with crafting as its economic base and weaponsmithing as the main craft produced. It was full of mercenaries, also for its position on the River Ondan and in the middle of the northern lands, further north from the former capital of the Moren Empire, Moriana.

The walls were wood and stone, with few gates, but the streets were paved with bricks. The buildings kept the windows shuttered and the town was built around a central bridge on the Ondan. It had city parks, well-stocked merchants and fountains, and was famous for its spies and acrobats.

The nearest tavern was halfway across town, but mercenaries met at the Sterling Star Inn. The guards were thugs who barely gave a second glance to the blond and clean-shaven barbarian that hopped off a cart inside the walls.

Now what? Alion wondered. Aunt Beria gave me money and advice, but... Uncle Axel vanished with his lover, I wonder where he lives now!

He'd better find the Sterling Star Inn so he could find work and then move around again until he found what he was looking for.

"Hello, handsome, what are you looking for?" An elegant young man stopped him. He wore an embroidered tunic and had a golden chain around his neck. Brown hair, blue eyes, clean-shaven, his lips curved into an impish smile.

"Are you talking to me?" Alion asked, puzzled.

"Yes, you. You're gorgeous, you know?"

Alion finally recognized lust in the other young man's eyes. Someone like me! he thought, happily surprised. He had barely set foot in town and already he had found a handsome man who looked like he wanted to undress him and do unspeakable things to his body.

"Um... thank you..." He blushed under the young man's stare. "My name is Alion and I come from Caer Nittak, in the Tribes' lands."

"You don't look like a rough barbarian! I'm Tristan ap Roderick. What are you looking for?"

"You..."

Alion found himself moaning with pleasure as Tristan roamed his body with his hands and mouth. It was even better than in his dreams! So much better than just using his hands! And Tristan tasted good and...

"Oh, Tristan, it was wonderful!" he said, dreamy, as they rested in Tristan's big bed.

"First time, huh?" Tristan said. "You barbarians don't do these things."

"That's why I was exiled..." Alion caressed Tristan's face. "But now I want to learn everything!"

"You're in good hands, my handsome barbarian," Tristan replied. "Us town noblemen are masters of perversions..."

***

"Why do you let him treat you like this?"

Alion glared at the young servant who had dared talk to him.

"Keep your place, Owain, you're only a servant," he snapped.

"I might only be a servant, but you're his bed toy and he most certainly respects me more than he does you," Owain retorted.

"How dare you? He loves me!"

"In your dreams!"

"Shut up, Owain! I don't want to listen to your poison!"

Owain shrugged and left, but the seed of doubt was planted. Tristan was often quite violent and hurt Alion more than he cared to admit. The sexual games involved chains, whips, gags, orgies – and Tristan's tenderness had vanished almost immediately as he taught Alion how to be a submissive lover.

"You're hurting me, Tristan, why are you doing this to me?"

"Because you deserve it, stupid barbarian. And you like it – being punished because you feel guilty!"

Maybe some part of him really wanted to be punished, really felt guilty... but soon he reached the point where his body almost failed him, and he had to stop being abused by the nobleman.

He awoke in the young lord's bed with a moan and found Owain by his side.

"How are you feeling?" the young servant asked, worried.

"I'm a wreck," he admitted.

"Are you sure you want to be abused some more?"

"No." He glanced outside the window. It was plain daylight, Tristan must be out with his friends. He'd better leave before the contemptuous nobleman came back. "I'd better go. I'll sell my sword as a mercenary. I'm a warrior after all."

"I'll come with you!" Owain brightened.

"You? But you can't fight!" Alion protested.

"I'll be your squire! Please, let me be with you."

"Be with me... how?"

"How you wish." Owain blushed. "I love you, Alion."

Alion stared at him, incredulous.

Why not? He might be a prince of the tribes, but he wasn't much better than a servant of the civilized lands who was obviously smarter than him when it came to city noblemen. And if Owain loved him...

They packed and left together.

"Where should we go?" Owain asked.

"I don't know, anywhere, really. Let's stay on this side of the Ondan and look for a war. How about the wild lands?"

"No, I'm scared of the wild lands!" Owain protested.

"But I'll protect you," Alion assured him, amused.

He'd been stupid and blind. He'd lost months with a sadistic nobleman who didn't love him when he could have had a sweet servant who looked ready to die for him.

But now he had Owain and would start a new life with him. They could be very happy.

The Jesters

Harish and Kartik reached Jevina, capital of Lakeshi, and mingled in the crowd feeling safe at last. There were so many people here, it would be impossible for Master Zahin to ever find them.

Kartik had left his gypsy tribe to join Master Zahin's itinerant circus as juggler and knife-thrower a decade ago. Over the years, he'd learned to play a stringed instrument (now sold) and sing decently.

The itinerant jesters had five closed wagons for family, animals, and props, and Kartik had shared one with the unmarried young men – which included teen Harish, a nimble acrobat who could walk on a tightrope or dance like a wild fire. Being a pretty boy with unusual gray eyes, Master Zahin often offered Harish's body to whoever was interested for a fee.

After ten years of watching the use and abuse of younger member's bodies, Kartik had decided he'd had enough. Harish was too meek to call Master Zahin a "bloody pimp", so Kartik had acted on his behalf, dragging him away from the camp.

The pair had traveled on foot, stopping only to eat or sleep, but now they felt they could finally rest properly. Because they didn't have any money, they either had to sell their props – Kartik's throwing knives or Harish's juggling implements – or put on a show to gather a few coins.

"We can juggle and do some gymnastic," Harish suggested. "Or I can be your target boy."

Kartik usually used one of the girls as target, he'd never used Harish. He stared surprised at the young man, who smiled sheepishly and shrugged.

"I can stand still," Harish insisted. "Your knives never touch anyone."

"I brought you here to keep you safe," Kartik said, frowning with worry. Throwing knives at Harish felt wrong. He could name his feelings for Harish now, even if he'd never said it out loud. He loved Harish with all his being, but he'd never touch him, knowing how much abuse Harish had been through.

"I am safe with you," Harish replied. His trust was overwhelming.

Kartik couldn't believe Harish had actually followed him away from the slavery of Master Zahin. It had taken Kartik a few months to discover that not all members of the circus were free. Harish was an orphan – Master Zahin had bought him, and trained him as an acrobat, so he was more a slave than a family member.

Since Kartik always treated him like a younger brother, the scrawny teen had grown very attached to him. They slept very close at night, but Harish stiffened whenever someone touched him with lust. Kartik made sure his desire was always under control when they were close.

"Are you sure?" Kartik stopped to look Harish in the eyes.

The crowd moved around them, not leaving much room for setting up a show. Someone pushed Harish against him and his heart jumped. Harish regained his balance and stared at him again.

"I'm sure," he said with a nod.

Kartik sighed and looked around.

"Let's find a square and see if we can set up a stage."

The street they were on ended in a big square, but it was market day and stalls were everywhere. Merchants screamed their goods and customers crowded the best stalls. Finding a spot to set up a street show seemed impossible.

"Look!" Harish pointed at red balls dancing in the air. A juggler had found a place to perform on the other side of the square.

Kartik grabbed Harish's hand and led him through the crowd. Kartik thought Harish was perfect, including his minor physical imperfection. Harish's right hand had an extra half-finger, in addition to the five normal ones, but the malformation didn't hinder his hand movements. It was just weird to look at and some people were repelled by it.

The corner of the square had a small stage for street performers. The juggler had finished his number and bowed to the cheering audience. Kartik saw a group of other performers waiting on the side of the stage and headed there.

"We would like to go on next, so we can gather a few coins to buy some food," he told the waiting men. "We won't be long. We are hungry."

"What do you do?" one asked, glaring at them.

Since a juggler was already on stage, Kartik didn't hesitate. "I am a knife-thrower. My target boy is an acrobat, but he won't perform until I feed him. Really, we won't be long."

The men grunted and muttered, but when the juggler came off the stage, they signaled Kartik to go on. Harish followed him on the wooden stage and took a prop table, putting it against the wall as target background while Kartik introduced himself and his "aide".

Ignoring the snorts and scoffs – and his empty belly's rumblings – Kartik turned to look at Harish who positioned himself against the improvised board and flashed an encouraging smile at him.

Kartik took a deep breath and opened his travel pack to get the throwing knives. He cleared his mind and focused on the target, framing him with a quick succession of throws. The crowd cheered and threw a few coins.

Kartik recovered the knives and Harish made a headstand against the board, opening his legs so Kartik could plant a V of knives between them. He didn't flinch – not even when the last knife stabbed the wood over his crotch.

Warmer applause and more coins reached the stage as Harish did a somersault to get back on his feet. Kartik smiled at the crowd and bowed deeply. They had enough for a meal; they could step down now and come back for another turn later. He thanked the crowd and picked up the coins while Harish gathered the knives and put them back in the travel pouch.

They bowed and left the stage, thanking their fellow performers for the opportunity. One grumpily pointed them to a tavern in another corner of the square and they thanked him again.

"I'm so hungry!" Harish said as they crossed the square towards the tavern.

"You were so brave," Kartik said.

"I knew your hand wouldn't miss even if you're starving," Harish replied with a grin. "And thank you for sparing my jewels, although Master Zahin would have been happy if you'd emasculated me."

"He's wanted to emasculate you since your voice changed," Kartik said with contempt.

"He'd have done it already if women hadn't started requesting me," Harish said with a shrug.

"Because you put some meat on your bones and turned out to be a strikingly handsome young man," Kartik replied, staring fondly at him,

"If you say so." Harish flashed his sheepish smile, then they entered the tavern and a waft of mixed food smells struck them. Their bellies rumbled in unison as they stopped to adapt to the dark interior. They exchanged a glance at the sound and burst out laughing.

"Can I help you?" A wary innkeeper glared at them.

"Yes! Food for two," Kartik said. "And can you recommend a cheap place where we could rent a room?"

***

Harish woke up at the sounds of the busy town. The room he shared with Kartik opened on Jevina's main square, next to the royal palace, and it was rarely a peaceful place. Only during the wee hours of the night did silence linger.

Harish didn't mind the noise. Sometimes sleeping in a wagon and listening to nature's voice was even worse – like during thunderstorms – and he had grown accustomed to falling asleep whenever or wherever he could.

The room had only the double bed they were lying on, a jug and basin, and a chamberpot, but it was more than what he was used to. He'd washed in rivers or streams all his life, and slept on a blanket with four or five other young men in a much smaller space, so the room felt like a luxury to him.

He rolled over to see if Kartik was awake – of course he was. The elder didn't seem to need as much sleep as he did. Harish blessed the day the raven-haired gypsy had walked into the camp and asked Master Zahin if he needed another performer. Kartik's kindness and independence had become a role-model for him, turning the scrawny teen into a healthy and well-built young man.

"Ready for another day of shows?" Kartik asked.

Harish nodded. Since they didn't own a mirror, they took turns at the basin and then shaved each other before dressing. Harish took the travel bag where they'd put all the props, moving their other possessions to the other pouch, which they would leave in the room, and they left for their daily tour of the stages incorporated in most of Jevina's squares.

To perform on the main square, directly in front of the palace, was an honor they hadn't achieved in the ten days they'd spent in the city. Performers on that stage were invited by the king or a member of his court, and nobody had approached Kartik yet. But their names were spreading through town, since the pair could perform in more than one discipline.

Sometimes they performed with others. Harish walked the tightrope with a group of almond-eyed funambulists or danced with a group of Akkorans, who even had two belly-dancers who covered their faces. Harish had his own version of the belly dance, so they made a nice trio on stage.

Sometimes he was Kartik's target boy, sometimes he danced to his songs, sometimes they juggled together, earning enough money to eat properly and pay the room rent. But there was no need to sell his ass to lustful rich men to survive, which made Harish feel clean and happy for the first time in his life.

At night he nestled against Kartik and fell asleep to the sound of his breathing. Sometimes he wished he wasn't so tired by his daily physical labor – he would like to explore other things with his savior. Although he wasn't sure Kartik would want his body, since he knew how many people had already used it.

Sometimes Harish wished he could go back in time. In his imagination, instead of Master Zahin, a younger, but already independent, Kartik would show up at the orphanage, look at the sickly boy he was, and take him away on a wondrous adventure.

Harish didn't know when his gratitude had turned to love, but he hoped the new life in Jevina would allow him to open up with Kartik and tell him how he felt. Who knew how wonderful his life would become if he discovered that Kartik loved him as much as he did...

***

Kartik stared at the dignitary in disbelief. He thought the man had knocked on their door to offer a spot on the main stage of Jevina, but the dignitary's request had been for far more than a simple street performance.

"Could you repeat, please?" he asked.

"You are requested to perform in the great hall of the palace, for the king and his family," the plump man said, in the same neutral tone as before.

Kartik heard Harish's gasp of surprise and quickly glanced at him.

"The king has heard of our show?" he insisted.

The dignitary's lips twitched in a repressed smile.

"Even though the king doesn't leave the palace very often, and certainly not to mingle with the crowd of commoners, tht doesn't mean he doesn't know what happens in his city," he said. "Yes, he has heard of your prowess as knife-thrower and the grace of your target boy when he performs the Akkoran belly dance. The Akkoran dancers will be by his side for the musical part of the show."

"Oh." Kartik's enthusiasm faded. He'd been in town long enough to have heard the rumors about King Vijay's passion for cute young men. A couple of fellow performers had warned him to keep a low profile – if the king learned of his handsome "aide"...

He sighed, staring at his feet. He couldn't refuse the king's offer, could he?

"Can we skip the dancing part and just do the juggling?" he asked.

The plump man shook his head with a sympathetic look on his face.

"Is there a way out of this?" Kartik insisted, feeling trapped already.

"I'm afraid not," the other answered gravely. "You will go on stage tomorrow at noon. You're not the only show, so you might get lucky. If another young man catches the king's fancy before Harish hits the stage..."

Kartik sighed again and nodded. "Thank you," he muttered. "We'll be there."

The man bowed his head and left. Kartik turned to look at Harish who stood against the wall of their room, quiet as usual. The acrobat always let Kartik do the talk with strangers – and not only because Kartik was older, he suspected. Harish was very shy and introverted, having been a slave for most of is life. An itinerant jester's slave, but still someone's property. And Master Zahin hadn't been very good to that specific property, even though he brought in more money alone than all the others put together.

"Try to underplay everything," Kartik said. "Pretend you're still learning. Make mistakes. Don't let the king notice you."

Harish nodded slowly, serious. He knew very well what it meant if the king noticed him.

The next day Harish wore a stage costume that covered his body more than usual, tried to hide his nimbleness as much as he could, but when the music started, he just gave in to the dance and seemed to forget where he was.

Kartik cursed under his breath. Since he didn't dance, he sat with the musicians, playing with them, and noticed when Harish slipped into his love for dance. Worried, Kartik glanced at the king.

The turbaned ruler of Lakeshi was transfixed. And if one followed his gaze, it wasn't the Akkoran dancers that had spellbound him. It was Harish's movements that enthralled him.

Kartik closed his eyes, preparing for the worst.

***

Harish's smile vanished when he saw Kartik's frown. He was still catching his breath after the dance, but had rushed to Kartik expecting the usual smile of approval.

Then he realized where he was – the marble and sculptures and silks and damasks surrounding him – and gasped.

"I'm sorry!" he apologized. "You think the king noticed me?"

"Definitely," Kartik answered through clenched teeth, glaring at him.

Harish blushed under the scolding stare and averted his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered, feeling miserable.

"Let's go."

Kartik grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the crowded great hall. But before they reached the palace door, the guards stopped them and the dignitary joined them with his hands folded on his prominent belly, much like when he'd showed up at their door.

"The king wishes you to join the palace entertainers," he said. "A servant has been sent to gather your things and pay off your room. If you follow me, I shall show you your new quarters."

Harish heard Kartik curse under his breath, but they both followed the plump man, escorted by the guards.

Through stately corridors they reached a wing of the palace that was less decorated than the great hall.

"The entertainers' quarters," the dignitary said. "Make yourselves at home."

Kartik and Harish entered the big room – a dormitory barely divided by curtains. Men of all ages chattered on the cots, mostly ignoring the newcomers. A servant waved at them from the other side of the long rectangular room and pointed at two beds where their travel bags were already waiting. As soon as they reached him, he bowed and left.

"We had more privacy in our room," Harish muttered, glancing nervously around him.

"Do you really think you will sleep here?" Kartik asked bluntly, avoiding eye contact.

Harish moaned in frustration and slumped down onto one of the cots. What was he going to do? His freedom has lasted but a fortnight. He wanted to beat himself unconscious. How could Kartik save him from the king's lust? He can't. And it's all my fault. Kartik will leave me here, and I will die of shame.

He hid his face in his hands. He was so sick of it all...

The bed gave under Kartik's weight as he sat next to him and pulled Harish closer.

"I'm sorry, Harish," Kartik whispered. "I didn't want this to happen ever again. I will find a way out of this golden cage, though, I promise."

Harish hugged him and gulped down his tears. Kartik caressed his hair.

"Be strong," he continued. "Tomorrow, I'll take us out of here."

Harish sniffed and pulled away to look at Kartik's face. Of course, Kartik needed time to plan their escape. He'd never been in a palace before – neither of them had.

Harish slowly nodded. "I'll do the king's bidding," he said with a shaky voice. "But then take me away from here."

"I will," Kartik promised, determined. "Nobody will touch you against your will ever again."

Harish's lips trembled into a smile. You can touch me anytime... he thought wistfully.

But his voice didn't come out.

***

Before the lights went out in the entertainers' dormitory, a servant came to summon Harish. The young man gave Kartik a dismayed glance, then followed the servant.

Kartik lay sleepless on his cot while he tried to think of a way out from the palace – and tried not to think of Harish in the king's arms. He didn't think Harish could last until the king's lust subsided.

To get out of the palace they'd need their abilities – climbing walls, mostly, or trees. They could escape from the walled palace gardens first thing in the morning and be out of town before lunchtime. Then they would head for the jungle and stay put for a while.

Kartik thought they could build a hut and live of hunting, away from people. If he could throw knives, he could learn archery, or they could learn to catch fish. Maybe they could find a small village and settle there – not as jesters, but as hunters.

Eventually he dozed off, but by the time the sun came up, he hadn't slept much. Harish came back with the first light and instead of lying on the next bed, he came to nestle against him, even though that didn't leave them any room to move.

Kartik held him tight and felt him sigh.

"Are you all right?" he whispered in the still-quiet dormitory. Everyone else was still asleep.

Harish nodded.

"Do you need to sleep for a while?" he insisted, knowing Harish made him look like an insomniac.

"I'm fine." Harish squeezed him. "You want to go now?"

"It's probably better to go before the palace awakes."

Harish pulled back to look him in the eyes.

"The guards are already awake. I saw them coming back here."

"I know, but we're not going out the main door," Kartik replied with a quick smile.

Harish's eyes widened. "We're not?"

Kartik forced himself to let go of Harish's warm body.

"Let's go," he whispered with a wink.

Hope filled Harish's gray eyes and he promptly obeyed. They quietly gathered their things and tiptoed out of the dormitory. They wandered through a few corridors, hiding behind columns whenever they heard the guards patrolling nearby, until they finally found a garden.

They quickly climbed a tree to look beyond the walls, and found the perfect escape. One wall of the garden bordered a narrow service alley. They climbed it, jumping down on the other side. They looked left and right, then rushed towards what felt like the shortest way out of town.

The sun had fully risen by the time they ran away from the outskirts of the capital and followed the river into the luxuriant jungle. As they tried to find a way through the lush undergrowth, Kartik explained his plan of living as hunters or fishermen in some small village, and he saw Harish brighten.

"Can we stop now? I'm tired and hungry and I need rest," Harish pleaded a little later. They had found a narrow track, and Kartik hoped it led somewhere.

"I don't think we should stop in the middle of the jungle, not even in plain daylight," he replied. "Come on, our destination can't be far."

He was right. Moments later they found a small temple under curtains of foliage. Inside was a single room barely bigger than Master Zahin's wagons, but it was clean, and the small altar still had offerings of flowers and food in front of the flat carving of a goddess with many arms.

"There must be a village nearby," Kartik said as they sat on the stone floor. "We will find it before night." He absently gave Harish a piece of flat-bread he'd saved from their dinner, and studied his surroundings. He was a nomad, but he had enjoyed having a room and a steady roof over his head in Jevina. Maybe he could adapt to a settled life.

He looked at Harish who was wolfing down the bread and smiled.

"Gods, you're hungry! Do you want more?"

Harish nodded with his mouth full. Kartik fished for another flat-bread. His own stomach was in a tight knot, so he wouldn't need it.

Harish seemed to realize Kartik wasn't eating, and offered the second flat-bread, but Kartik refused it. He waited until Harish was done before speaking.

"Do you want to talk about last night?"

Harish darkened and his eyes dropped to the floor.

"No," he whispered.

"Did he hurt you?" Kartik insisted, worried.

Harish smiled ruefully. "No. I can't be hurt anymore."

"Do you still feel something?"

"I try not to." Harish shrugged. "I retreat in my mind and let them do what they want." He hugged his knees and put his chin on them.

Kartik sighed.

"I'm sorry. I won't let it happen again," he promised, more to himself than anything. If he thought of all the men who had soiled Harish with their lust... He clenched his fists. That would make him a king murderer if he followed through with his desire to hurt them all.

Harish's hand glided on his and he relaxed his fingers. He took the malformed hand in both his and kissed it.

"What did the king say about this?" he asked.

Harish winced. "He found it... entertaining."

"Entertaining... how?" He stared puzzled at Harish's face.

Harish retrieved his hand and hid it under his armpit, turning his head towards the temple door, obviously unwilling to discuss it. What could have the king found to be so entertaining about the malformed hand?

"I'm tired," Harish said, lying down and curling up in fetal position.

Kartik considered holding him, but even a light caress made Harish shiver, so he just sat with his hands in his lap.

"Sweet dreams," he said, feeling dejected.

***

Harish was finally happy. They'd found the village of hunters and fishermen and had been welcomed in the small community. They'd built a mud hut next to the others and moved in. Kartik went hunting every morning and Harish was learning how to skin and prepare the small animals his hunter brought back. The women of the village giggled at his first clumsy attempts, but then showed him how to do it.

Days flew by as they made new friends, but more and more Harish looked forward to sunset, when they retired in their hut and locked the world outside. He often found himself hugging Kartik to sleep, and new waves of desire washed over him as their bodies came in contact. Kartik smelled good. Kartik's hands were gentle.

And then one night his lips sought Kartik's skin and found the clean-shaven cheek and neck first. He heard Kartik gasp, but kept sucking and licking, trying to reach Kartik's mouth without moving his body, so well-nestled against his friend's.

"Harish..." Kartik's voice was hoarse. "What are you doing?"

Harish's bliss faded and he stopped. He'd hoped Kartik would feel like he did, but obviously it was brotherly love that had brought them to the village in the jungle, and nothing more. He suppressed a sigh.

"Harish." Kartik's voice was more steady now. "Why did you do that?"

"Because I want you," he grumbled, ashamed of himself. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have... I'm so unworthy!"

"No! You're not unworthy." Kartik squeezed him tighter. "But... I thought you didn't like being touched after all the abuse."

"I don't," he admitted. "I don't like lecherous rich men using my body. But you're not one of them."

His hand glided over Kartik's body and met an unexpected bump. Startled, Harish pulled up to look at Kartik's face in the pale light of their single oil lamp. Kartik was hard!

"Do you want me?" he asked, hopeful.

"I don't want to hurt you." Again the unsteady voice – Kartik struggling with his own desire.

"I know you won't hurt me!" Harish grinned. "I love you. Please, do what you want with me!"

Kartik hesitated, caressing Harish's cheek. Then his hand slid on Harish's neck to pull him down.

Their lips met in a deep, passionate kiss that took Harish's breath away.

He'd lost his virginity a long time ago, but suddenly in Kartik's arms he felt like a virgin again. All the men and women who had used him vanished from his mind. Kartik was the first man touching him, a man worth living with or dying for.

Harish was happy – and madly in love for the first time in his life – as he came in Kartik's arms.

***

And then the king found them. He was out on a tiger hunt with his court when he spotted Kartik. The jester-turned-hunter tried to run away, but was quickly captured by the guards.

"The acrobat can't be too far," the king said when Kartik refused to tell him where Harish was.

There weren't many villages in the jungle and it didn't take long to the Royal Guard to find Harish. Both were tied up and put on elephant back to be taken to Jevina with the king.

"I'm sorry," Kartik muttered. "I had sworn it would never happen again."

"You can't kill the king," Harish replied ruefully. "If he touches me, I'll kill myself."

"No!" Kartik protested, looking at his lover seated behind him. "Don't do it, Harish! He'll get bored and will release you. If you're dead, how can you come back to me?"

Harish sniffled. "What if he kills you?"

"In that case, join me as soon as you can. But don't do anything final until you know whether or not I live, all right?"

Harish sniffled again, then whispered, "All right."

They didn't say anything else as the elephant trudged on. When they reached Jevina, they were paraded in the streets like the tiger hide the king had gotten himself.

His lustful stare was on them as the guards took them down from the elephant's back.

"The hunter to the whip, for poaching," the king said. "Bring the other to me."

Harish was dragged away as the guards bared Kartik's torso before attaching him to a pole to be whipped. Kartik clenched his teeth. Knowing Harish was forced to watch, he couldn't show any weakness. But around the twentieth lash, he lost consciousness without a moan.

***

"Will you stop crying?" King Vijay demanded, pulling away from Harish's naked body. The young man didn't react as tears kept streaming down his cheeks. "I didn't kill him. Now, for the gods' sake, stop crying!"

Harish blinked his tears away, but didn't say a word. He'd promised Kartik he wouldn't kill himself as long as his lover was alive, but he felt empty. The shame of the use and abuse of the past had come back, full blown, and he hadn't put up much resistance against the king's passion. But he wasn't going to pretend he liked it either.

The king snorted, put on a dressing gown and started pacing the ample bedroom. Harish didn't move from the canopied double bed, still seeing Kartik's bloodied back as they took him down and dragged him away to a cell. He hoped his beloved was recovering and that he'd soon be able to save him again.

Although there wasn't much hope of escaping from a prison. But Kartik was a gypsy, and some said they could do magic. Maybe he could spellbind the jailor into freeing him. And then he'd come for Harish and kill the evil, lustful king...

The king's hand roamed his body again, sending shivers of disgust down Harish's spine. He had no more tears, but his heart was still breaking in tiny little pieces. He wondered if he'd ever be able to patch it up again when the king's tongue invaded his mouth.

And then the king brought another young man to the room who looked very much like  a younger version of himself – Harish guessed it was probably his son. King Vijay immediately went to the bed where Harish lay.

"Here he is! Isn't he gorgeous? Come, Vivek, check him."

As if I were a stallion, Harish thought sourly.

The noble youth came closer to inspect him. He looked obviously satisfied with what he saw as his eyes lingered on Harish's body. But when the young man's eyes reached his face, he gasped in shock.

"Prince Rohit?" he blurted out, incredulous.

Harish didn't react. Not another lustful noble who would join King Vijay in his games...

"No, no, this is Harish, he's a jester," the king scolded.

"Father, he looks exactly like the prince of Amrendra!" Vivek exclaimed. "I know you were taken by Prince Prem when they both came here, but I've seen Prince Rohit at the Amrendran court and this jester looks exactly like him!"

"Oh, please!" The king sat on the bed and grabbed Harish's malformed hand. "Have you ever seen a prince like this? Come on, get naked with us, we're going to have fun!"

"I'd feel like making love to my brother-in-law," the prince snapped, disgusted.

"This is not Prince Rohit, he's an acrobat," his father retorted. "You have no idea what he can do if he feels like it! Come on, join the fun."

Vivek turned his back and rushed out of the room. Harish refrained from sighing in relief. The king glared at him, and stomped out after his son.

***

Kartik was surprised to be visited by a young nobleman who looked very much like the prince of Lakeshi. He could only guess that the king had introduced him to Harish. Kartik ignored the prince's stare, hoping they hadn't used Harish at the same time.

The fever of the whipping was gone and even though his back still hurt, he was more worried for Harish than for himself. His body could take a beating, but Harish's couldn't take much more abuse.

"Are you a nomad?" Prince Vivek asked bluntly.

"Yes."

"Where did you find that young man sleeping in my father's bed?"

Kartik looked at the prince. Was he also obsessed with Harish?

"I'm not the one forcing him to have sex," he blurted out.

"I'm not forcing him either," the prince replied with contempt. "I think he's of noble origin, and I know you gypsies tend to steal..."

Kartik scoffed. "I've never stolen anything in my life, nor have any of my tribe. But lots of lusty rich and noble men have stolen Harish's innocence."

"Where did you find Harish?" the prince asked again through clenched teeth.

Kartik stared at him then decided to answer.

"I met him in an itinerant circus ten years ago. I left my tribe to join those jesters, and he was already part of their company."

"Was he a family member?"

"No, he was an orphan. Master Zahin had bought and trained him to be a juggler-dancer-acrobat."

"Where do I find this Master Zahin?"

"I don't know. We ran away from the circus a month ago. I was sick of seeing Zahin pimping Harish after the shows."

"You mean he sold his body?"

Kartik nodded somberly.

"I told you, I'm not the one who is abusing Harish," he muttered.

The young man stormed away with pursed lips.

***

"Kartik, I can't take it anymore." Harish crouched by the cell's bars. "The king even invited his son to join us, although the prince refused, saying I reminded him of another prince..."

Kartik came forward to sit next to the bars, moving on his hands and knees, so Harish wondered if he'd really recovered from the whipping like he had assured. When Kartik's hand touched his cheek, Harish closed his eyes. He so wanted to hide in Kartik's arms, even if his beloved was dirty and unshaven and probably still hurt... He'd kiss his bruises one by one, forgetting his own pain and sorrow.

"The prince also came to me, asking questions about your past," Kartik said. "Harish, maybe you are a prince. I've known you only as an orphan, and maybe not even Master Zahin knows where you actually come from, but if someone saw princely features in you, maybe you'll soon be free."

Harish kissed Kartik's palm. He still felt like crying, and just wanted to die, and put an end to his misery. He couldn't believe a prince would be left living as an orphan and jester for all those years. And how could they tell who he was from his looks anyway?

The only very recognizable thing he had was his malformed hand – which might have been the very reason he'd been thrown away. Who would want a prince with a hand like his?

"Hold on, Harish." Kartik insisted. "I've tried to corrupt some of the guards, but they're all too scared for their asses to do something against the king's lust. If the prince shows up again, try to talk to him. He may be your only way out of his father's bedroom."

Harish sniffled. "All right," he whispered, keeping Kartik's warm palm against his cheek. He wasn't really keen on kissing the bearded face, but the caresses were enough for now.

"I know you're strong." Kartik flashed a smile at him. "You've been through much, but I'm sure your ordeal is almost over. Don't do anything stupid, and before you know it, we'll be out of here."

Harish lost himself in Kartik's black eyes. "I love you," he mouthed. Kartik's hand ruffled his hair as his teeth flashed again through his black beard.

"Go now." Kartik retired to the back of the cell where Harish had found him.

Reluctantly, Harish got up and left the prison. Here he was, dressed better than he'd ever been, fed and sheltered, but prisoner of a king's lust. When would he be free to live how he wanted, loving whoever he wanted, without having to obey orders of cruel or lustful masters?

At the door of the king's apartment he saw Prince Vivek approaching with a young couple. He stopped, remembering Kartik's words. Maybe Prince Vivek was his only way out.

"Rohit!" the maiden of the couple exclaimed as they approached. "How did you get here?"

Harish looked at her, confused, then noticed Prince Vivek's triumphant smile.

"So it is as I thought," the prince said. "He is your brother's lookalike."

The three noble youths reached him and surrounded him, observing him from all angles. Harish blushed and tried to concentrate on Prince Vivek.

"My lord, I was wondering if you could talk your father into releasing me and Kartik..." he started hesitantly.

"And that's why I wanted you to meet my brother's betrothed, Kareena of Amrendra," the prince replied with a grin.

The maiden gasped as she caught a glimpse of his hand, and then she took it to observe it better, frowning.

"Not Rohit," she said at last, looking him in the eyes. "But maybe his lost twin? I will have to write to my father. I never knew Rohit had a twin."

"But Amrendra has twin kings," Prince Vivek said. "And they're identical – one can't tell them apart."

The princess smiled. "We can tell which is our father and which our uncle." She squeezed Harish's malformed hand. "If you really are my brother, don't worry, you'll be out of here soon."

Harish offered her a tentative smile as his heart opened to hope.

***

Rohit entered the Lakeshian great hall still puzzled by the reason for his visit. Kareena's letter had brought tears to his father's eyes and plunged his uncle in an unusual silence. He'd been sent to check the facts, but couldn't believe he'd never been told before that he'd had a twin.

He'd always considered his cousin Ajay as "almost" twin, since they were born one day apart. The thought of a real twin wasn't so upsetting, though. A part of him had always felt like he was living a second life, although he couldn't say much about it.

King Vijay welcomed him with a frown – evidence that he wasn't happy his latest bed-toy looked like a prince. Rohit didn't care what his father-in-law did in his bedroom, but he was anxious to meet his lookalike.

King Vijay grumpily called for "Harish" and dismissed the courtiers. Only Prince Vivek, Prince Vasant and Kareena stayed in the great hall with the king to witness the meeting and hear what his father had to say on the matter. King Daruka had recommended he see the young man and listen to his heart before delivering the news.

And then the jester arrived, his eyes to the floor like a servant, and stopped near the king with a curt bow. His hair was longer than Rohit's, but he was clean-shaven and decently dressed – probably by the king. And yes, the jester was a replica of the prince heir of Amrendra.

Rohit's eyes went to the jester's right hand. His father had told him his twin brother had been sort of imperfect, hence when he'd vanished, everyone had just assumed he'd died. Rohit's heart pounded faster when he saw the malformed hand.

He took a deep breath to calm down and looked at King Vijay.

"I must thank you on behalf of my father, King Daruka. He sent me here knowing I could recognize a twin I never knew I had. Rahul vanished when he was still a sickly baby and everybody at the Amrendran court simply thought he hadn't survived. It is a miracle to see him here today, alive and healthy, twenty-five years later. I thank you for taking him under your wing, but I beg you to allow me to take my brother home, where he belongs."

King Vijay pursed his lips, thoughtful. Kareena beamed, Prince Vivek looked satisfied, Prince Vasant only curious of the outcome. Harish kept staring at his feet, but his fingers were restless.

"If you never knew you had a twin, how can you be so sure this is your brother?" King Vijay asked. "Physical resemblance is not proof enough in my opinion. I hear the king of Rajendra has lookalikes and the king of Akkora made sure to locate all the men who even vaguely resembled him."

Rohit moved one step closer to Harish and grabbed his wrist, showing the malformed hand.

"My father told me of my lost twin's deformity," he said. "Although I have no conscious memories, I've always known there was more to me. This is my long-lost twin, and I have no doubt about his identity."

He heard Harish gasp and finally met his eyes. The twin looked scared.

"Don't you realize we look the same?" he asked him.

Harish shook his head. "I don't know. I have never had a mirror."

"Oh. We are twins," Rohit explained to him. "Your name is Rahul."

"No, I'm Harish."

"That's the name you were given after your were stolen from the Amrendran palace as a baby. Your real name is Rahul of Amrendra."

His twin frowned, trying to grasp everything, and then glanced at King Vijay. "So I'm free?" he asked, hopeful.

Rohit grinned. "Yes. I've come to take you home."

"And Kartik, too?"

"Uh... who is Kartik?"

"His lover," King Vijay spat with contempt.

"My savior," Rahul corrected frantically. "Can he come, too?"

"Of course," Rohit said after a brief hesitation. They'd sort it out with their father. His twin's relief was overwhelming – he could feel it like his own.

***

Kartik was released and taken to the great hall by silent guards. He didn't dare ask them, but he hoped Harish had found a way out of King Vijay's room.

Harish brightened when he saw him, and Kartik felt tattered and dirty noticing how the jester looked more and more like a prince. Harish wasn't wearing a turban, but his elegant clothes were slightly different from the other courtiers. And next to him stood his perfect lookalike, with shorter hair and a look of nobility that showed he was a true prince – and Harish's identical twin.

Kartik bowed at both, a little puzzled by the resemblance, and apologized for his poor state.

"You shall bathe in Amrendra," Harish's twin said. "I need to take Rahul back as soon as possible."

Kartik looked at Harish. "Rahul – would that be you?"

"Yes." Harish nodded with an embarrassed smile. "I'm not a jester any more. They tell me I'm really Prince Rahul of Amrendra – and this is my twin brother Rohit."

Startled, Kartik bowed again, more deeply, at both. He followed them to the courtyard, still incredulous at Harish's new status. The former jester let his twin do the talking with King Vijay.

Then Harish took Kartik's hand and guided him to the royal wagon. It was filled with plush cushions and other commodities. They sat together in a corner and Harish nestled against him like he used to, uncaring of his silken clothes against Kartik's dirty and tattered tunic.

"What will your brother think of us?" Kartik asked, his heart swelling with gratitude at the obvious display of affection in spite of his sorry state.

"I don't care." Harish shrugged. "He's kind, but he's still a stranger. I don't care what he thinks of me."

"But he saved you from King Vijay... I still can't believe how identical the two of you are."

"Are we, really?" Harish asked, worried.

"Hopefully they'll provide you with a mirror and you'll be able to see for yourself." Kartik chuckled. "A prince... oh, my, that's a long way from being a jester!"

"And I still want you by my side," Harish declared with renewed trust. "As a councilor, a bodyguard... but mostly in my bed."

"As you wish, your highness," Kartik teased. He really, really wanted to kiss Harish, but didn't dare. He was dirty and unshaven and King Vijay had hurt his beloved and...

Suddenly Harish kissed him, ignoring his beard. The wagon started moving and when Harish let him go, Kartik realized Prince Rohit was sitting in front of them with an amused smile on his face.

"I'm sorry, my lord, I didn't mean to..."

"I believe it was Rahul who started the kiss," Rohit replied, glancing at his twin. "He obviously trusts you more than he trusts me, so I guess I'll have to welcome you to the family on behalf of our father the king."

Kartik nodded, speechless. Harish chuckled and squeezed him.

"You'll see how good-looking he is when he's not locked into a cell," he told his twin. "But don't you dare steal him from me!"

"I'm married and not interested in men," Rohit retorted. "And I sure hope you'll stay away from my wife when we get home."

"I'm not interested in women," Harish informed him with a satisfied smile. Then he lost himself in Kartik's eyes.

Author's note: if you'd like to read the whole story of Harish and Kartik, you can find it either as single e-book (Amrendra) or included in More Tales of the Southern Kingdoms – One Volume Edition available as e-book and in print.

The King-God of Arquon

"All hail the King God! Long live Suresh III!"

Suresh listened to the chants, covered from head to toe in dark silk. His subjects weren't allowed to gaze upon his face, but they worshiped him once a week in Zarquon's main temple.

He sat perfectly still on his uncomfortable stone seat – not even a pillow to ease his back and buttocks – and waited for the high priest to end the ceremony.

If only they knew how lonely and powerless do I feel behind my mask... Suresh felt even more trapped after his coronation. The relative freedom he'd had as a prince was completely gone. Now he couldn't show his face in public, couldn't go unattended anywhere except to the Queen's room or the Concubines Garden, and was closely watched at all times by servants and advisers, except when he retired to his private sanctum to sleep.

His parents were dead, his sisters married off, his brother sent into priesthood and his wife still felt like a stranger, over a year after the wedding – and not only because she hadn't given birth yet. Suresh must admit he didn't like sleeping with her, but dutifully visited her apartment twice a week. He was supposed to spend his other nights in the Concubines Garden, but he didn't have any concubines yet. The leftovers from his father were too old – although one of them had seen to his sexual education a few years earlier – and none of his wife's ladies-in-waiting had yet caught his eye.

A final hymn released him from the stone seat, and he dutifully went back to the palace in his closed carriage. The day was so hot that during the short trip Suresh sweated profusely under his silken coverings. His semi-god status meant he lived far removed from the reality of his own people. The palace itself didn't have defensive walls around it, but it was separated from the town of Zarquon by a flat plain and a river.

Plain walls enclosed the space, with pointed arches on the main doors and most windows. Thankfully, columns and turrets made the overall shape less square, and glazed or painted tiles gave some color to the white stones. The carriage stopped in an inner courtyard and he got out.

Since he couldn't see well through the black silk, a servant led him to his room to change for the council session. Luckily he didn't have to cover his face in the palace itself.

He exchanged the silk for his bejeweled turban and went to the meeting, sitting on the low cushioned throne to hear the state matters of the day. First came the news from abroad: Karan of Akkora had appointed his brother Yash governor of his northern province, Leland; Roshan of Rajendra had crushed the rebellion of his general, but had been wounded in battle; Vivek of Lakeshi sent his greetings to both him and Queen Anjali, his sister.

Suresh struggled to keep his face impassible when he heard King Vivek's letter. His marriage to Anjali of Lakeshi must mean a lot to King Vivek if he wrote directly to him instead of addressing his sister privately. Not that Suresh couldn't read between the lines. His heart beat faster in the hope there was also a private message for him.

"The rest is for your eyes only," the Chief Adviser deposited a sealed parchment in front of him.

Suresh wished he could snatch it and read it immediately, but nodded and tried to ignore it.

"Anything else?" he asked.

"Queen Ashrita of Gajendra has given birth to the heir..."

Administrative matters took the rest of the morning, then he had a quick lunch with Anjali who was brooding.

"Didn't your brother write to you as well?" Suresh asked, a little nervous. Vivek's letter was still in his pocket, unopened.

"Yes," she snapped. "Jaya is pregnant. Ashrita had delivered. Laxmi has given Rohit his twin heirs. Why can't you get me pregnant?"

"Why do you keep miscarrying my seed?" he retorted. "You can't have a god's child?"

She scoffed. "You're not a god, Suresh, you're a man. Or you should be. Your father had twenty concubines, and you have none. You are... awkward in bed, as if you don't belong. Or you don't like me."

"Our marriage is a political alliance, not a love match," he reminded her.

"But have you ever been in love?" she insisted. "Did you have a lover, like Prem of Gajendra did, before meeting me?"

Suresh pondered. It felt like a lifetime ago – his life as prince heir, with no friends and servants constantly gushing over him. No, he hadn't taken his wet-nurse's daughter as a lover like Prem had done. No, he'd never felt his heart flutter until Vivek – Anjali's brother – had stopped in Zarquon and dazzled him with his smile. Sort of.

"No," he said at last, shrugging away the thought of his brother-in-law.

Anjali shook her head, irritated. "When you realize you're not a semi-god, but a man, it will be too late," she muttered, glaring at him.

I'm aware of who I am. But I can't share my real self with anyone. Which was what made him feel so worthless, in spite of the power bestowed on him.

A theoretic power, since the council actually ruled the country and the priests led the religion. I'm just a puppet, here to sit on a stone seat or a cushioned throne, prisoner of my own duties.

In the afternoon he exercised with his sword teacher, sat with some philosophers and finally managed to retire in a corner of the royal library to read Vivek's letter.

Dear Suresh

I hope this letter finds you healthy and happy. If only we weren't locked in our kingly duties, we could meet on the border for a tiger hunt without the wives. Just imagine, you and me in the jungle, hunting our prey – and then celebrating on its skin. You know you're my favorite brother-in-law, don't you? I hope you haven't forgotten what we had. I often think about it and wish we could do it again. Anjali is mad at you, but if you want, I'll come over and help you impregnate her. After all, I know how to make you hard better than her, don't I?

Suresh stiffened a chuckle. He couldn't forget what they had. Vivek being a prince, he'd been introduced to him as soon as he'd reached the royal palace outside of Zarquon. Suresh was supposed to show him around before introducing him to his sisters, but since he was very shy, Vivek had quickly taken the lead, suggesting a mock duel under the sun and then relaxing in the pool of the bath chamber afterward.

Thus Suresh had found himself naked in the water with the other prince who had started touching him in ways nobody had ever dared.

"You are so sweet," Vivek had whispered before kissing him, his hand roaming between Suresh's legs.

Aroused by Vivek's caresses, cuddled by the warm water of the pool, Suresh had allowed the other prince to impale him, spreading his own seed in the water. The forbidden pleasure had left him dreamy for the rest of Vivek's stay, who had winked at him upon departure.

Hence Suresh had looked forward to go to the Lakeshian court – to see Vivek again, more than to meet his sisters. Just because he'd ended up marrying Anjali didn't mean he'd forgotten Vivek. He started wondering what his wicked brother-in-law would do to make him impregnate Anjali. The simple thought of Vivek's hands and lips on him made him shiver with pleasure.

It was a doomed relationship, of course. They'd had four intense sex sessions – three in Arquon and one more in Lakeshi – then they'd had to part. Suresh had tried to enjoy women again, going back to the expert who had trained him, so he'd be able to please his bride, but he couldn't stop thinking Anjali was just Vivek's sister, not him.

His poor wife had even asked one of her ladies-in-waiting, Vidya, to train him better, but even a younger woman couldn't arouse him as much as Vivek's caresses.

Suresh sighed, rolling the parchment and hiding it in his pocket again.

At dinner, Anjali suggested he take Vidya as concubine and exercise his skills with her since he wasn't going to the queen's bed. Vidya was a skilled courtesan, even Suresh could tell, but he had no intention of spending more nights out of his own room. But to keep the peace, he agreed and told Vidya to go to the Concubines Garden and wait for him.

Then he finally retired to sleep. He put Vivek's letter in an ivory casket with the others, deciding he'd write his reply in the morning.

He took off his turban and went to the balcony to watch the sunset, then to the bedroom to undress.

"Need help?" Rishi emerged from the growing shadows with a grin.

"You're my bodyguard, not my servant," he replied, amused.

"Really?" Rishi teased, offering the night caftan.

Suresh took it and threw it away.

"I'm supposed to go to the Concubines Garden tonight, but I don't feel like it," he said defiantly, stepping forward. "Undress me."

Rishi crossed his arms on his chest, with a gleaming tease in his black eyes.

"If I'm your bodyguard, I will not undress you," he declared.

Rishi was slightly taller than Suresh and one of their playful wrestling matches had turned into a striptease followed by a wild sex marathon. They'd been lovers since, unbeknownst to everyone.

"Do I need to pin you to the ground?" Suresh threatened playfully.

"It's easier if I pin you to the bed," Rishi replied before attacking.

Laughing, Suresh allowed the older man to throw him on the bed and shower him with kisses. Rishi knew where to put his hands and mouth as well as Vivek, and Suresh was glad he'd found a substitute for his brother-in-law. He moaned with pleasure in his lover's arms, and the Concubines Garden was completely forgotten.

***

"He didn't visit?" Anjali insisted bluntly. She lay on the carpet and pillows of the Concubines Garden apartment with her lady-in-waiting.

"No, my lady," Vidya answered. They'd grown up together and were more friends than a queen and her lady-in-waiting. It had been Vidya's idea to try to arouse Suresh's interest, but she had failed. And then Anjali had suggested she became a concubine, but Suresh hadn't visited her.

"Where does he spend his nights if not with me, you or any other woman?" Anjali wondered, frustrated.

"I heard he doesn't leave his room," Vidya said.

"So, what does he do, pleasure himself all night?" Anjali snorted.

"You should know better, my lady," Vidya chided. "You are a princess of Lakeshi, after all."

Anjali stared at her, horrified.

"You mean.. he might have a man? But who? Nobody can enter his sanctum during the night!"

"True." Vidya paused and looked her in the eyes. "Except his personal bodyguard."

"His... what? You think he's screwing that... man?" Anjali protested.

"From what I have observed since we moved here, the opposite is probably the case," Vidya replied, amused.

"Vidya!" Anjali screamed, shocked. Vidya raised her eyebrows and didn't say anything. Anjali lowered her voice. "You think the king-god of Arquon enjoys having... things... up his ass?"

Vidya slowly nodded. "I probed him – he got hard immediately. Want me to show you how to do it?"

"No! Gods! As if a father and brother weren't enough! Damn him, this can't be true!"

"I believe the queen is the only person who can have unannounced access to the king's bedroom," Vidya said, thoughtful. "You should pay him a surprise visit – and then you'd know for sure if I guessed right."

Anjali chewed her lower lip, frowning. The thought of finding her husband in bed with another man wasn't very appealing. But if she had the certainty, she could divorce him. She might have to marry his brother and he'd be dethroned, but it would serve him right.

Anjali straightened her back and rose from the carpet with a determined expression. She rushed out of the Garden, then sauntered regally to the king's private sanctum.

"Is the king awake?" she asked the guards. It was quite early in the morning, and there were still a couple of hours before his first meeting of the day. His personal servants hadn't arrived at his door yet – although usually Rishi, the bodyguard, came out to announce the king was ready to get out of bed.

"I don't think so, your majesty," one of the guards answered, staring straight ahead.

Anjali raised her chin. "Let me in, I wish to speak with him in private."

The other guard opened the door for her without looking at her. She slid inside and heard the door soft thud. She looked at the antechamber, flooded with sunlight. Rishi was supposed to sleep there, on the carpet, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Anjali clenched her teeth and her fists, and marched to the bedroom.

Like Vidya suspected, Suresh was in bed with his bodyguard. Both were naked and Rishi had his arms wrapped around the king, embracing him from behind.

Anjali stopped by the bed and stared at them. She wanted to scream. And then one of her fists opened and she slapped her husband, startling him awake.

"Anjali!" he protested, massaging his stinging cheek as Rishi retreated to the other side of the bed.

"I should have known!" she exploded, hitting him with both hands in succession. "You're a bastard, just like my brother!"

"Anjali, stop!" He managed to grab her wrists and hold her. He pulled her down, seated on the bed, and tried to hug her, but she slapped him again. Tears filled her eyes as he managed to keep her still.

"Will you calm down?" he ordered. "Do you want Rishi to restrain you?"

She glared at the bodyguard who now stood by the other side of the bed, staring back at her with an impenetrable expression. He wasn't even ashamed of his nakedness.

"Get your goddamn bodyguard out of here," she replied, furious. "This is between me and you!"

"If you stop hitting me," Suresh answered with a frown.

She nodded, trying to relax. He let her go and signaled Rishi to wait in the anteroom. Her shoulders sagged while the bodyguard picked up his clothes and his sword. She snarled as the man passed near her, headed for the door.

Suresh grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. "Now we can talk," he said.

Anjali raised her hand to slap him again, but he raised a warning finger. She snorted, and her hand fell back in her lap.

"I want a divorce," she said. "I want you deposed. I want to marry your brother and give him an heir to the Arquon throne."

"What?" he protested. "My brother is a priest! He's spiritual! He made a chastity vow! He hasn't been trained to be king!"

"Well, neither have you, obviously!" she screamed. "At least my father managed to have four surviving children! My brother will have his heir! But you... you... Gods!" She looked at the ceiling, exasperated. "I've had enough with my father and Vivek, did my husband have to be like them as well?"

"Actually, it was your brother who showed me the way," Suresh said somberly. "He made me feel things I had never felt before..."

"Please, spare me!" She closed her eyes, irritated. "I know what a charmer Vivek can be! You're not the first to fall for him! And won't be the last either!"

"And I'm obviously not the only king who likes men," Suresh retorted. "Rahul of Amrendra didn't even bother to get married. Vivek thinks that Roshan of Rajendra also has a male lover, like his father before him..."

"Shut up!" she screamed. "I don't care what they do in Rajendra, Amrendra or Akkora! I've grown up with men loving men! I've had enough! Either you renounce your lover and start visiting me or Vidya every single night, or I want a divorce! And I'll make sure your council knows why you're unfit to be king! You can't produce an heir! They'll be delighted to offer the throne – and me – to your brother! And you can go crying on Vivek's shoulder for all I care!"

"Anjali!" he protested, shocked.

She calmed down. "You heard me. Give me your answer tonight."

She stormed out of his rooms, still furious with both him and herself. She'd been blind. But things were going to change.

***

Suresh slumped backward on the bed with a moan. What now? Lose his throne and finally live a normal life or give up his only guilty pleasure? And if he lost his throne, would Vivek or even Rishi still want him?

"Are you all right?" Rishi towered over him, now fully dressed. "Shall I let in the servants?"

"Yes." Suresh sat, then grabbed Rishi's wrist before he left. "Rishi, did you hear..."

"Yes."

"What am I supposed to do?" He moaned, letting go of Rishi and hiding his face in his hands.

"Talk to your brother," Rishi said. "And then follow your heart."

Startled, Suresh looked up, but Rishi was gone. Suresh sighed and rose, heading for the bath chamber to meet his servants.

"Do I have time to visit my brother?" he asked his secretary while they dressed him.

The skinny man checked the roll of the day's events, then nodded. "You could go to the temple at noon. Should I send out a notice for Lord Kushan to expect you at that time?"

"Yes."

Suresh wore his bejeweled turban and headed for the Council Room. News from the other kingdoms confirmed that King Roshan was back in Argantael after crushing the rebellion, but was still recovering from his wounds.

Suresh wondered if Vivek was right about Roshan having a male lover. When they'd met in Lakeshi, Vivek had told him that he'd seen another court like his father's – except King Rakesh was much more discreet; or maybe simply faithful to his general, Kabir. The same Kabir who had started a revolt against the son when the father was killed in a hunting accident.

"How many other princes have you seduced?" he'd asked Vivek back then.

"Just you," Vivek had answered tenderly.

Suresh blushed at the memory and tried to concentrate on the meeting.

Then he donned his silken cover and took a horse and an escort to go to the temple. He wasn't even allowed to walk the streets of his hometown. Being king and god was very impractical, but since he wasn't going to the temple for a ceremony, he could travel lighter and avoid the closed carriage.

His younger brother Kushan welcomed him with a serene smile. "How are things at the palace, Brother?"

"Messy," Suresh admitted, eyes low. "I made a mistake. It will probably cost me my throne, but I don't think I'm going to miss it."

"What?" Kushan's eyes widened in wonder.

Suresh told him about Anjali finding Rishi in his bed and her threat of scandal and divorce.

"It's true we failed to produce an heir in over a year of marriage, but I don't know why she thinks she can have you in my place," Suresh concluded, worried. "You took a chastity vow – and I think you enjoy life at the temple, don't you?"

Kushan pondered, then sighed. "I have found peace here," he said, staring at the stone floor of his spartan room. No carpets and no cushions for the Arquon prince, just a cot, a table, and a stool – and a single narrow window. "And now you bring back turmoil."

He looked at his brother with a sad expression.

"You know why our father sent me here? He saw I had a crush on your wife, and he punished my lust. I have learned to control my emotions, but now you tell me..." Kushan hesitated. "You say she suggested I marry her?"

"Yes," Suresh answered puzzled. He hadn't been aware of the reasons behind his brother's decision to enter the temple. He had no idea Kushan had been forced into the priesthood by his father.

Kushan sighed, staring in the distance.

"At your wedding, I couldn't keep my eyes off of her," he said. "And she noticed. And so did Father, even though he was already very sick."

"So now she has decided she married the wrong brother," Suresh grumbled. "I can't blame her, but..." He stared at Kushan. "Do you want the throne as well?"

Kushan shrugged. "If I can have her..."

Suresh inhaled deeply. "Then you shall have her."

***

"Stop biting your nails, you're ruining your hands," Vidya snapped, fanning Anjali who sat on her bed with a frown.

"Do you think he's going to stop seeing Rishi?" she asked, still nibbling at her finger.

Vidya put down the fan and snatched her wrist, keeping her hand away from her mouth. Startled, Anjali looked at her, but Vidya's glare was enough to stop her protest.

"How will you tear his eyes out if you have no nails, my lady?" Vidya scolded.

Anjali sighed and hugged her knees, putting her chin on them.

"Was I too harsh?" she wondered. "What if Kushan doesn't want to marry me?"

"Oh, I'm sure he does." Vidya scoffed, resuming the fanning. "The way he looked at you at the wedding..."

"Do you think he'll be a better lover than Suresh?"

"Definitely, my lady."

Anjali sighed. "I hope Suresh makes the right decision..."

She didn't have to wait until that night. Suresh summoned her to the Council Chamber in the afternoon, and she went with her ladies-in-waiting. The advisers were all there, as was Prince Kushan in his priestly clothes.

Suresh waited until everybody was settled, then turned his head to the left to glance at his brother – seated on his heels by Suresh's side – and then to the right to look at her.

Suresh lowered his eyes and took a deep breath before raising his head and staring at the council.

"My brilliant wife has brought to my attention how mismatched we are, and how unfit I am to rule. Therefore I wish to bestow the throne and the power of the king-god of Arquon on my brother, Kushan. My marriage to Princess Anjali will be dissolved, and she will be free to remarry whomever she pleases."

"On what grounds will you dissolve the marriage?" an elder adviser asked. "Infidelity on the part of the king isn't considered a valid reason in any of the southern kingdoms."

Suresh smiled briefly.

"Unconsummated marriage," he said.

Anjali's heart missed a beat.

"I have never truthfully made love to my wife," he continued. "I might have hurt her with my lack of tact. And I believe she deserves happiness that I cannot give her."

Anjali looked at him, feeling a lump in her throat. He wasn't giving up his male lover – he was giving up his throne, his life, and her. And she couldn't figure out if it hurt or if she felt relieved.

He met her stare and smiled.

"I think Kushan will make you very happy," he told her gently.

She gasped and focused on the young man beyond her husband. Kushan was staring straight ahead, but his Adam's apple went up and down, and she saw tears in his eyes.

"Tomorrow I will crown my brother king-god of Arquon," Suresh continued, addressing the whole council. "And I will dissolve my marriage. Then I will leave the palace grounds forever."

"You don't have to!" Kushan blurted out. "You're my brother, you can stay here if you wish!"

"Or you can come back if you don't feel welcome at the Lakeshian court," Anjali whispered so that only Suresh could hear her.

He looked at her and nodded gravely.

"That's all for today," he said, staring at the council members. "Disperse."

He rose and left the Council Chamber in a rising murmur of comments. Anjali retired to her rooms, conflicted. Kushan would be king, but he hadn't said anything about choosing a queen...

***

Suresh felt as if a burden had been taken off his chest. His marriage was dissolved, Kushan was crowned king and had married Anjali – and he was suddenly free. Free to get out of the palace without escort and without covering his face; free to feel the breeze on his cheeks and breathe in the smell of jasmine without the silken filter of his head-cover.

"Will you stay in my brother's service?" he asked Rishi, gathering a few clothes before leaving his royal prison for good.

"No, I think you need me more than him," Rishi answered. "You know nothing about the big bad world out there."

Suresh chuckled. "I've been out there..."

"Once, years ago and with a princely escort," Rishi reminded him. "I don't think you can find the way to Jevina on your own."

Suresh hadn't told Rishi where he intended to go, and was surprised that the bodyguard had guessed his destination. "How do you...?"

"Suresh." Rishi took Suresh's face in his hands. "Do you really think I'm not aware I'm just a substitute for King Vivek? I know he's the one who truly seduced you."

Suresh couldn't sustain Rishi's stare and pulled away, embarrassed.

"You've been so faithful," he whispered, touched. "And I thought you did it only because I was the king..."

"I have always seen you as a man – and a very lonely one at that," Rishi replied. "You were always so isolated and desperately in need of love... I wasn't surprised you fell for Vivek when the prince first came here."

Puzzled, Suresh stared at him. "You... saw us?"

"I was already your bodyguard." Rishi nodded. "Present, but invisible. So I know why you sighed so much when he was gone, and that's why I offered to give you what you wanted."

Suresh's lips trembled into a smile. "Thank you, Rishi." He hugged the bodyguard, who squeezed him tight. "So you know the way to Lakeshi?" he asked then, hopeful.

Rishi grinned. "Of course I do."

***

"Suresh, I can't believe you gave up your throne and even passed Anjali to your brother," Vivek said as they sat on the cushions of the king's apartment. "What are you going to do now?"

"I don't know." Suresh shrugged, staring at the carpet design. "Maybe I'll go back and be like Rahul of Amrendra for Kushan."

"The shadow twin." Vivek chuckled. "When I think how my father was obsessed with that... jester!"

"Now the jester is a king. I can be like him – my brother's shadow. Or an adviser. I don't know. I wanted to travel first."

"Mm. I think Roshan of Rajendra also has a man sleeping with him right now." Vivek smiled. "What a bunch of perverted kings! Haughty Prem will never want to deal with any of us! If only he knew how surrounded he is..."

"As long as you provide an heir..." Suresh stared at Vivek. "How do you manage with your wife?"

"Jaya is a wild cat." Vivek winked. "Would you like to come into our bed tonight?"

Startled, Suresh stared at him. Vivek couldn't be serious...

He was. Suresh spent the wildest night of his life in the bedroom of the rulers of Lakeshi – but woke up alone. Naked and slightly bruised by the crazy sex marathon. He gathered his clothes and went looking for Rishi, who had waited for him in the servants' quarters.

"You look like a wreck," Rishi told him with a teasing smile.

"I am a wreck," Suresh admitted. "I don't think I'm made for this." He looked Rishi in the eyes. "Will you stay with me for the rest of your life?" he asked, hopeful.

"Maybe," Rishi answered. "I have one condition."

"And what is it?" Suresh frowned in worry.

Rishi pulled him closer. "I will spend my life with you only if you really love me."

Suresh's heart started beating faster as their bodies adhered. He'd been dazzled by Vivek, but Rishi was definitely a safer bet. The bodyguard was strong but gentle, and obviously cared a lot about him.

"Yes..." He nodded slowly, feeling a lump in his throat. He'd been blind. "Yes, Rishi, I really love you."

"Good." Rishi grinned. "I've been silently in love with you for years now, and I'm glad it's not just sex anymore."

"But there will be sex, won't there?" Suresh asked.

"Of course, my beloved." Rishi wrapped his arms around him and squeezed. "I will screw your royal ass until you beg me to stop," he whispered in his hear.

Suresh chuckled, relieved. "And if I don't tell you to stop?"

"My, aren't we greedy, your majesty?" Rishi teased.

Suresh put his arms around Rishi's neck, serious.

"I'm not a king. I'm not a god. I'm Suresh, and I love you," he declared. and then he kissed Rishi with all his passion. Now he could be really happy – where he'd live didn't really matter.

The Queen's Son

Carino knew his childhood was over when they took him out of the apartment where he'd grown up with the other sons of the Queen. As the eldest surviving male, Shawanna had kept him at the palace until he turned thirteen. Then she said it was time he started doing his manly duty and sent him to a Public House in the main square, on the left side of the palace and in front of the Temple of the Goddess.

Disappointed, he'd hugged his younger brothers, put on the Modesty Cloth for the first time, and stepped out of the palace, following his new mistress, Vilma. He'd hoped his mother would keep him at the palace to breed, but obviously she preferred sharing him with the whole town.

Vilma took him upstairs in her big house and introduced him to Bono.

"He shall teach you the ways of the house," she told Carino. "See you tonight for the Rite."

Carino stared admiringly at the young man in front of him. Blond and blue-eyed, Bono smiled welcomingly, and Carino's heart started beating faster.

"I'm Carino, the Queen's son," he said, straightening to be as tall as Bono, but failing. He was still a scrawny teen compared to the gorgeous youth. He was blond and blue-eyed too, but the pale blond of his childhood was darkening already. Soon he'd be much like Bono, who smiled at his enthusiasm.

"Welcome to Vilma's house, Carino," he said. "Come, I'll show you the bath chamber and how to groom yourself. You don't have facial hair yet, do you?"

"No, but I'm growing some hair... somewhere else," Carino admitted. "Will you tell me about that too?"

"Sure," Bono promised.

The lack of adult men in the Boys' Apartment had been a big loss for Carino. He was glad he finally had someone to question – and that he was handsome and kind like Bono.

The elder showed him the pool with thermal water, helped him to wash and showed him how to touch himself. Carino had his first orgasm in the warm water, sighing in bliss with release and wishing he could hug Bono as well.

"How old are you?" he asked his mentor who was so obviously an expert on sex and women.

"Nineteen. I started working for Vilma as soon as I came out of the Boys' House. I don't know who my mother is, but Vilma says I'm her best man, that's why she entrusted you to me for your education."

"So, what are we supposed to do?" Carino asked, a little worried.

"Entertain women." They got out of the pool and dressed. "I have a visit now, I'll let you watch, unseen. Come."

Bono led Carino to a room with a lacy wooden window that opened on a bedroom.

"I'll be on the other side. Just watch, but be quiet," Bono said.

Carino took a stool and sat by the laced window. He was very nervous and his feet couldn't keep still.

Then Bono entered the bedroom with a woman. Carino couldn't take his eyes off of him, mesmerized by his smile and the way his hands glided over her body...

Carino held his breath. Bono's naked body was the most wonderful thing he'd ever seen. He wanted to touch the smooth skin, feel those muscles, taste those luscious lips now exploring the woman's body. Carino wished he could be the woman as she moaned in pleasure.

He closed his eyes and imagined Bono touching him as he stroked himself. He fell off the stool with a loud bang and heard Bono curse. He stayed on the floor, still caressing himself, barely listening to the whispers coming from the next room.

And then Bono stormed in. "Carino, what happened?"

Carino burst out laughing as he came again on the floor. "I'm fine. Just fell off the stool." He sighed, sat and composed himself. "Hope I didn't ruin your work."

"No, I... was done, but..." Bono looked puzzled. "Come and wash your hands," he ordered bluntly.

Carino followed him back to their room feeling like he was walking on the clouds. He wanted to throw his arms around Bono's neck and kiss him all over.

Bono checked he washed in the basin, and then they sat on the floor between their cots.

"So, how was it? Think you can do it?" Bono asked.

"I don't know." Carino winced. "I wish I could be in the woman's place with you doing those things to me..."

Bono's eyes widened in shock. "What? No, you got it all wrong! You're the man!"

Carino shrugged. "I know, but I still think the woman gets the best treatment," he grumbled.

Bono shook his head, incredulous. "You're so inexperienced... you'll change your mind tonight."

Carino sighed. "If you say so..."

***

If the man wore a mask for the Rite before depriving fourteen-year-old women of their virginity, it wasn't the same for men. The boy could see the face of the woman who taught him to be a man, and it was usually a much older woman who took care of his sexual education.

Vilma herself took care of Carino, but he found it humiliating and almost painful. If he thought how hard Bono made him with a simple smile, he wondered why he should be forced to deal with women instead.

He went back to his room and lay on his cot feeling very disappointed. If this was his new life, he was screwed. He hated it.

He stared at the darkness, listening to Bono's breath. He wished he could nestle against his roommate and fall asleep in his arms. He sighed.

"Are you all right?" Bono whispered, startling him. So he was awake!

"Yes." But Carino felt like crying. He didn't dare express his feelings, not after Bono's reaction to his comments on how he wished to be the woman.

Bono's cot creaked and Bono's warmth enveloped him. He burst into sobs against Bono's chest, holding him as tight as he could.

"Hush," Bono repeated, stroking his back. "It's all right, Carino, hush."

Carino found himself hard against Bono's body. He calmed down to try to look at Bono's face in the darkness.

"B-bono, why don't we r-run away?" he stammered, sniffling.

Bono immediately let him go and went back to his cot. Carino shivered in the sudden cold – an inner cold, more than external.

"Are you out of your mind?" Bono's voice snapped. "Where could we go?"

"I don't know, anywhere," Carino answered, desperate.

"We can't move around the country! And we don't speak any foreign language!"

"I-I do..." Carino sniffled. "The Tattooed Ambassador was very fond of me and she taught me her mother tongue, saying I could run away with her when I grew up!"

"And that's probably why your mother sent you here instead of keeping you at the palace," Bono retorted. "Didn't you enjoy Vilma's caresses? She's good..."

"I hated it!" Carino whined. "All of it! I want to be with you!"

"You're crazy, Carino. Now get some sleep. I'm sure everything will look different in the morning."

No it won't, Carino thought, sniffling and stroking his hard-on to release.

***

Bono was baffled by Carino. He saw him as a younger brother badly in need of guidance. Carino was sweet and cuddly – with him. Carino had adoring stares – for him. The boy got along fine with the other young men of the house, but women... it was plain obvious he didn't like them.

The Queen's son was a rebellious lover. Often Vilma or Bono gave him drugs to help him perform. Sometimes he needed to be forced. Sometimes – when the mistress wasn't around – he could be coaxed.

"If you kiss me when I'm done, I'll do it," he said every time they were alone.

Bono didn't understand him at all. He had brushed lips with Carino, but could feel the boy wanted more, much more. And he wasn't ready for that.

Years went by, and Carino turned from a scrawny teen into a handsome young man who rarely smiled. His dark-blond hair tumbled around a permanent frown – unless he was alone with Bono, and then he turned dreamy.

Bono didn't understand why Carino needed to be drunk or drugged to perform. He didn't understand the Queen's son's desire to run away with him. He often thought Carino had two faces, one for him and one for everybody else. One sweet, the other mean and rebellious.

"Why are you so different with me?" he asked after ten long years of observing the double behavior of his roommate. "You could be the most wanted Public Man of Maadre, you have the Queen's blood, why do you refuse to do your duty?"

Carino stared at him with his sky-blue eyes. His pointed chin rose in challenge as he frowned.

"Because I love you, Bono. And you can't blame it on youth or inexperience. I'm twenty-three now, and I know what I want. I want you. I want to run away with you and live happily ever after. But my love is unrequited, so I'll have to be content with living under the same roof and sharing this spartan room with you."

Bono realized he was holding his breath. Carino averted his eyes and turned his back on him, so he felt free to exhale. He'd never heard such passionate words. No woman had ever told him she wanted to spend her life with him.

But Carino's plan was impossible. They were men of the Queendom of Maadre. They'd never be free.

***

Vilma took Carino to the palace on the eve of the Fall Festival. So Carino saw his mother again after ten years, but his smile vanished in front of her frown.

The Queen received him in a small office and Vilma waited outside. Carino knew his mistress's grievances anyway – he refused to do his duty, hadn't learned to dance and was more a hindrance than a perk for the Public House.

Shawanna rose from her desk, sauntered to her son and slapped him.

"Mother!" he protested, holding his stinging cheek.

"You shame me!" She spat. "Vilma tells me in ten years you still haven't learned your place! I should have thrown you in a Boys' House with the others when you were a child!"

Carino clenched his teeth and glared at her.

"Do you really think that being my son makes you special?" she continued. "It doesn't – but your seed is special! It's Amazonia's seed! And Vilma tells me you're reluctant to share it!"

"May I speak?" he asked bluntly.

She waved her permission as she went back to sit down.

"I don't think I'm made to be a Public Man," he said.

"You can't dance either," the Queen retorted. "Would you rather be a slave? A servant? A Gladiator?"

"No, I don't want to die fighting in the Arena, but I'd be happier as a house servant. There are plenty at the palace, can't you take me back?" he pleaded.

Shawanna took in a deep breath to control her anger.

"Did you listen to me? Did you hear what I said? Your brothers are happily breeding in other Public Houses or in here, why can't you do your duty like them?"

"Because I don't want to!" he exploded. "I don't like sex with women!"

Shawanna's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I'm not made for this job! Take me out of the Public House, Mother, please! I'm not a breeding stud!" He didn't dare telling her he was madly in love with Bono and longed to be in his arms. He'd end up on the altar for the Fall Sacrifice if he admitted to loving a man.

"Carino, you're twenty-three now. Stop behaving like a spoiled child. Honor your blood and breed for the glory of the Goddess," Shawanna said, determined.

Carino pursed his lower lip and gave up.

Vilma took him back, looking satisfied. She probably thought the Queen's scolding would have an effect on him.

You wish! he thought, going back to his room to brood. Bono wasn't in, probably busy with some customer. Carino slumped on his cot and stared at the wooden ceiling, drifting off in thoughts.

For ten years he'd worked at the Public House. For ten years he'd endured sex, sometimes with the help of drugs or wine, sometimes in the hope of a reward from his gorgeous roommate.

In ten years his love for Bono had grown. It wasn't just lust, but a deep desire to be intimate with Bono. If only his roommate stopped staring at him with that puzzled expression...

Carino hadn't managed to steal more than a few kisses from Bono, so he had explored his attraction for men with Moretto, who had noticed the way he looked at Bono and suggested a few very forbidden games.

In fact Carino did better in orgies, where other men were present, than when single women visited him. Moretto's caresses made him long for Bono's touch even more, though. They'd been secretly lovers when Carino was fifteen to seventeen, then Moretto had been sold off, leaving Carino alone with his own hand and his unrequited love.

After the interview with his mother, Carino wished once more to run away from Maadre and leave the accursed Queendom. But he must try talking Bono into following him one last time. The Fall Festival might provide enough chaos in town to slip away unnoticed, especially if he could talk to the Tattooed Ambassador. He'd seen her at the palace while going to his mother's office and he could probably manage to approach her during the festivities, albeit hidden by the Modesty Cloth.

Bono stepped into the room, startling him back to reality. In Carino's eyes, he was still the most handsome young man alive and he smiled briefly before reclining on his cot.

"I heard you went to the palace today."

"Yes, my mother felt the need to scold me," Carino grumbled.

"Oh, I thought you'd be performing for some lady-in-waiting," Bono said, puzzled.

"That's your job," Carino snapped. "I'm her son, and I'm shaming her."

"Well, we already discussed how you're so different in this room..."

Carino sat and stared at him. "Will you run away with me?"

"No!" Bono replied, shocked. "I thought you'd given up that crazy idea of yours!"

"Never," he said through clenched teeth. "Fine, I'll leave on my own."

"Don't be silly, Carino, they'll catch you and..."

"And then what? Sacrifice me on the Goddess's altar? Good! I'm sick of living like this anyway!"

He jumped to his feet and stormed out of the room. He went to the bath chamber to wash away some anger and frustration at Bono's continuous rejections.

During dinner he never looked Bono's way. When they retired to sleep, he kept his eyes on his feet and rolled over to give his roommate his back. His heart was breaking at the thought of leaving Bono behind, but enough was enough.

***

Talina was no longer ambassador of the Tattoo Country, but since she'd made many friends during her ten-years mandate, she kept visiting Maadre every year, either in spring or around the Fall Festival.

She wasn't very fond of the human sacrifices of the latter, so she avoided going to the Temple of the Goddess in the fall. She waited for her friends browsing the shops on the main square during the ceremony – and then a man stopped her.

Startled, she stared at the Modesty Cloth wondering whose face was hidden behind the lacy opening. He knew her name, so she wondered where she'd met him.

"I'm Carino," he said. "The Queen's son."

That Carino? She hadn't seen him in years!

"Where have you been, Carino?" she asked, pleasantly surprised. She remembered the lovely blond child who was now taller than her.

He pointed at the Public House on the square.

"My mother sent me there ten years ago." He sounded gloomy. "You said I could visit you when I grew up, but how am I going to leave the country? I don't think Vilma is allowed to sell me off, since I carry the Queen's seed."

"Mm..." Talina pondered. The Queen's son a Public Man? Made sense for those crazy Amazons. "You can go out, though, can't you?"

Obviously, or he wouldn't be in the street talking to her. But he wouldn't be able to go far, unless she managed to smuggle him away from the city.

"I'm leaving in two days," she said. "Can you come to the fluvial port? I have a closed wagon, wait in the alley behind the Golden Goddess Inn and I'll take you away."

"Thank you, Talina!" He sounded relieved. "I'll find and excuse to go out – maybe I'll bring another man with me."

She grinned. "I look forward to seeing how you grew up. Besides becoming taller than me, I mean."

He chuckled. "I'll repay you, Talina. You can have the Queen's seed if you take me away!"

As if my daughter could ever have a claim on the Amazons' throne, Talina thought, amused. She watched him walk back to the Public House as lust stirred inside her. She was only slightly younger than the Queen, but Carino was not her son. She looked forward to discover what a man he'd become.

***

Carino packed his spare tunic and sandals and frowned at the Modesty Cloth. Hopefully he'd soon be rid of it forever. He glanced at Bono, still asleep. He had already asked his roommate the night before – his last attempt at convincing Bono to run away with him – but Bono refused to leave his cozy position of beloved and honored Public Man.

Carino sighed and tiptoed out of the room. It was still early, and only the house servants were up, cleaning and preparing the house for the daily business.

"I'm going to wash my clothes," Carino said to the butler who shot a questioning look at him. He put on the Modesty Cloth and exited the house, heading for the river.

The streets were still quiet and the shop owners were still opening their venues. He'd never been that far from the palace and the main square, but found the Golden Goddess Inn and the back alley about one hour later. He sat on the ground with his back against the wall and waited, observing alley cats chasing mice and birds cooing or flying around.

Then he heard the sound of hooves and wheels, and a wagon pulled by two mules entered the alley. He rose, recognizing Talina on the front seat. She barely slowed the mules' pace.

"There's a back door, get in and hide behind my luggage," she said. "Just be quiet until I come and get you. They usually don't search me, but you never know."

He obeyed, rushing to the little door, giving a quick glance inside before closing it and plunging into darkness. Groping around, he found a space between two sacks and curled up, using his Modesty Cloth like a blanket that would make him look like another sack if someone glanced inside. The gentle sway of the wagon rocked him back to sleep.

***

The sudden lack of movement startled him awake and he heard the door squeak open.

"Carino?" Talina called.

He pulled down the Modesty Cloth, but it was still dark. Talina held an oil lamp and he saw a bit of starry sky behind her.

"We're in open country and the mules need rest," she said, grabbing a pack of provisions. "Come, help me start a fire."

He obeyed, eagerly stretching his cramped legs and arms. She had already gathered some wood in a circle of stones where someone else had already cooked – probably a Huntress.

Carino helped fix the dinner, his stomach rumbling with hunger. The light of the fire flickered on the naked, tattooed arms of Talina – snakes and flowers coiling together in a design that had fascinated him as a child. He had recognized her from her tattoos, not her face.

They ate in silence, then Talina sighed and stretched her arms.

"What do you think, is it safe to sleep out here?" she asked.

Carino glanced at the starry sky, a little worried. "What if there are wild beasts? Wouldn't it be safer inside the wagon?"

She chuckled. "Of course, darling."

They extinguished the fire and gathered their things. Talina brought the oil lamp inside so they could see enough to make room on the wagons' floor. Not much room, but enough to sleep in each other's arms.

She closed the door and sat in front of him, putting the oil lamp between them.

"You've become a fine young man, Carino," she said at last. "Much as I expected. Take your clothes off and show me what they taught you."

She put the oil lamp over a chest where it wouldn't burn them and took off her own sleeveless tunic. She had a mighty dragon painted on her back and more designs on her belly. Carino was mesmerized by her tattoos. He made love to them, more than the woman, but Talina was satisfied.

They fell asleep with their limbs still entwined.

***

"What do you mean he ran away?" Vilma asked coldly.

Bono kept his eyes on his feet and cleared his throat.

"He... suggested we run away together, my lady. More than once. I always refused to follow him, and it has kept him here for ten years. But I'm afraid the Queen's call has pushed him to follow up with his plan even without me."

He glanced at Vilma who had narrowed her eyes. Carino had vanished the day before and nobody had seen him since.

"Any idea of who could have helped him?" Vilma asked bluntly.

"He mentioned a Tattooed ambassador who was very fond of him as a child," Bono answered.

"Thank you, Bono. You shall be rewarded." Vilma shooed him away and Bono went back to his room, a little worried for Carino. The crazy boy was really in trouble now.

***

After the first night in the wild, Talina started stopping in villages that provided stables for the mules. The forest turned into a luxuriant jungle and often the unpaved road was in disrepair, although it was close enough to the river to find a passage, sometimes on the shore itself.

But instead of the few days the barges took to go downriver and reach the coast, going by land took a fortnight until the wagon reached Danae, the coastal town at the estuary of Maadre's river.

When the town was in sight, Talina told Carino to go back inside and hide. Danae was a border town with customs and Talina would have to smuggle Carino onboard at night or when the customs officers weren't watching.

Carino went back to crouch among her luggage, musing about what tattoo he'd have as soon as he reached Talina's country. His thoughts went back to Bono when he heard voices outside and realized they were probably in town by now. Bono had refused to follow him, leaving him with a longing that drew a deep sigh out of him. Hopefully he'd find a nice, Tattooed man – Talina had mentioned she had a son in his teens – and forget his first unrequited love.

The wagon stopped and Carino sat still He tried to listen to what was going on outside, but the wooden walls didn't allow him to understand the words. Just to be safe, he hid under the cloth like he'd done in Maadre.

And then the door banged open and the captain of the Queen's Guard, Erika, ordered, "Search in here!" Carino froze, holding his breath, but soon someone pulled off the Cloth and two guards pointed their lances at him.

"He's here, my lady!" the elder guard said. Carino knew their faces, but not their names.

They dragged him outside, tied his hands behind his back and put him on a horse.

"I'm sorry, Carino!" Talina screamed.

"Shut up, foreign bitch!" Erika snapped. "You've just lost all rights to set foot in the Queendom of Maadre ever again! Go back to where you belong and forget about coming back here!"

Carino wailed in frustration, so they gagged him. The guards put him onto the river barge and headed back for Maadre. He struggled in vain, trying to free himself, until Erika knocked him unconscious.

***

Bono went to the palace, summoned by Erika. The captain of the Queen's Guard had just come back from a mission and wished to relax in his arms.

He didn't question her as he made love to her, but when they were cuddling after the act, she was the one who felt the need to talk.

"We brought the Queen's son back," she announced with a sigh.

Bono's heart missed a beat.

"Carino?" he asked. The young man had run away a month earlier and a part of him had hoped he'd never get caught.

"Yes. Vilma came to tell the Queen he'd used the Fall Festival to run away and the first thing they did was sending me out to discover if former ambassador Talina was or had been in town. She's a Tattooed woman who still has friends here."

"I know, Carino mentioned her to me," Bono said, thoughtful. "She was still ambassador when he last saw her."

"Well, she was, until five years ago. Anyway, once we discovered she was indeed in town for the Festival but had left the day Carino vanished, the Queen sent us to Danae to wait for her. We went downriver with the barge and she was traveling by land, so we reached the harbor in Danae long before her. Her ship was still there, so we only had to wait for her to show up."

"And Carino was with her?"

"Yes. She was expelled from the country and we brought him back."

"When?" he asked puzzled. Carino hadn't come back to the Public House.

"Two days ago. He's still here. He was punished and Vilma doesn't want him back. She says he's useless."

"Well, he is a little rebellious, but..."

"Honey, he's crazy. He screamed at his mother that he hated her. He swore he'd never touch a woman again. He was whipped, but we had to drug him to make him hard."

Bono gulped his sorrow. Carino must have lost it.

"Bono." Erika stared at him. "He said he loves you. And wants only you."

Bono cleared his throat but couldn't speak.

"The Queen was mad at him. She couldn't believe her son preferred men. She... hurt him, Bono. I thought she'd kill him in her fury."

"Did she?" he whispered.

"No, but he's still recovering from the punishment. And since Vilma doesn't want him back, the Queen might keep him here, now that Talina is gone. I don't know, maybe she wants to reeducate him herself. But if he's as stubborn as her..."

"She'll break him or kill him," he finished sourly. "I wish I could help him."

Erika pulled away to look him in the eyes.

"Bono, you're the most loved Public Man of Maadre," she said. "Even the Queen is fond of you. If anyone can do anything for Carino, it's you."

He frowned in worry.

"But he declared his love for me! How can I claim him?"

"We all know you're the best." Erika smiled. "He can't corrupt you, but maybe you can teach him some manners."

"I've tried for ten yeas and failed," he grumbled.

"I'm sure you can talk the Queen into leaving him alone..."

***

"I beg your forgiveness, your majesty, for I have failed you." Bono was prostrated in front of the Queen, touching the floor with his forehead.

"In what have you failed me?" Shawanna sounded surprised.

"Lady Vilma had entrusted me with your son's education." He pulled up, but remained on his knees, keeping his eyes low. "I failed to understand him and somehow pushed him to try to run away..."

"You can't be held responsible for my son's screwed mind," she said, thoughtful. "I know you did your best. But Carino is rebellious and too stubborn for his own good!"

"May I have a second chance, your majesty? I would like to try a different approach..."

He felt her blue eyes on him. He'd soon be thirty, they weren't expecting him to keep breeding for much longer. His status allowed him to make some requests, and his dutiful service probably entitled him to ask a favor or two.

"Vilma speaks so highly of you, I was thinking of transferring you to my Apartment," the Queen said. "And since she doesn't want to bother with Carino's tantrums anymore, maybe I could... I'd make him your personal servant, trusting you to make a real man out of him, so that in a year or two he'll be able to perform at least the Rites in the palace. Sereno will take his place at Vilma's, he's much nicer than Carino."

Bono nodded, but didn't dare looking up. Carino's younger brother was making a name for himself in the palace, and Vilma would be very happy to have him instead of aging Bono.

Thus the Public Man moved to the palace and into the Queen's Apartment, where he had his own room. He lost the freedom to wander in the city on his free day, but he wasn't going to miss it. The Apartment was big, with an inner courtyard and a garden where he could breathe some fresh air without wearing the Modesty Cloth. There was a small canteen for the Queen's men and a big bath chamber with two pools, one of cold water and the other thermal, with a sweat-room next to it.

His bed was much bigger than the cot he'd slept in at Vilma's, with curtains to keep the light out. He had a chest for his clothes and a little outhouse on the balcony that hung over a stream running behind the palace. The soft carpet on the floor was a luxury he never expected to find.

When the Queen summoned him, he went to her, determined to thank her for what she'd done for him – and ask when Carino would join him. Shawanna smiled and assured him that as soon as the palace Healer allowed Carino to get up, he'd report to Bono.

Bono thanked her profusely in the best way he could think of, hoping the Queen wasn't past childbearing age and she'd have a reminder of his gratitude. He knew he'd be put to death and buried with her when her time came, but he was sure he still had many years to spend in the Apartment.

Then he went back to his new room and fell asleep in his new soft bed, looking forward to see Carino again.

***

Carino rose from the cot with his back still painted by the whip. His fever was down, so the Healer told him to report to his new post. He'd been assigned to a man of the Queen's Apartment.

Carino didn't say a word, drowning in his own sorrow. He wondered why they hadn't killed him after whipping and abusing him. The only consolation was that his mother's Apartment was on the highest floors and he could attempt to jump to his death from one of the balconies and put an end to his misery.

He reported to the Head of the Apartment, a bulky man who was also head of security in a place where the Queen was the only woman allowed.

"Last door of the corridor." The man pointed hm grumpily. "The newcomer is too spoiled already."

Carino ignored the comment. He didn't have to wait for his healthy mother's death to end his existence.

He dragged his feet to the door and knocked.

"Come in!"

He entered, closed the door and stood still, staring at the tiled floor and waiting for orders. He wasn't going to try to be friendly with his mother's latest flavor...

"Carino!"

Startled, Carino found himself in Bono's arms. Incredulous, he dared looking at his beloved's grin, and Bono chuckled, nodding.

"Yes, it's me! You're my personal servant now. The Queen gave me a second chance."

Carino panted, but his voice didn't come out. His mother had heard him scream his love for Bono, why had she allowed this?

Bono smiled and tousled his hair.

"I think your mother loves you," he said tenderly. "Now, if I allow you to do a few things, will you obey me and do your duty?"

"Like what?" Carino's voice came out strangled. His heart was in his throat while his lower body was pressed against Bono's.

"Like being your lover if you stop refusing women."

Carino's eyes widened in wonder.

"You'd do that?" he whispered.

Bono nodded, flooding him with his blue stare. And for the first time since he'd know him, it was Bono who initiated the kiss.

Carino lost himself in Bono's mouth, thinking he might not have to jump off a balcony after all.

***

About the Author

Barbara G.Tarn had an intense life in the Middle Ages that stuck to her through the centuries. She prefers swords to guns, long gowns to mini-skirts, and even though she buried the warrior woman, she deplores the death of knights in shining chainmail. She likes to think her condo apartment is a medieval castle, unfortunately lacking a dungeon to throw noisy neighbors and naughty colleagues in. Also known as the Lady with the Unicorns, these days she prefers to add a touch of fantasy to all her stories, past and present – when she’s not wandering on her fantasy world of Silvery Earth or in her science fantasy Star Minds Universe. She dabbles into historical fantasy with her Vampires Through the Centuries series and has started post-apocalyptic/steampunk series called Future Earth Chronicles. She’s a writer, sometimes artist, mostly a world-creator and story-teller. Two of her stories received an Honorable Mention at the Writers of the Future contest and one was published in Pulphouse Magazine #5 (March 2019). She writes, draws, ignores her day job and blogs at: http://creativebarbwire.wordpress.com.

For more info on the series or other titles go to Unicorn Productions.

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