KHERIN felt the eyes boring into him even if no one had approached him, and he saw the hostility in the sneers that hadn’t been hidden quickly enough. Some of the faces he recognized, though he would be hard-pressed to name them, and some were men he couldn’t swear he had ever seen before, either in the Silver Fish or out of it. But gossip had spread fast, and he knew that what was said last night was almost certainly repeated now. Turning his back on the Defenders was one of the most uncomfortable things he had ever done.
When Willum arrived to deliver his morning meal, he hadn’t bothered to hide his displeasure when Kherin had demanded that his leather armor be delivered to the hospice. Adrien had hid his even less when Defenders had arrived with the boiled leather while he and his brother still ate in his room. But as painful as the still healing wounds were, hiding in the hospice wasn’t an option—and hiding is what they would have considered it, regardless of whether it was adherence to the healer’s instructions. Adrien may have been right when he had said that it was only Kherin’s stubbornness and pride that pushed him back into the camp this soon, but Kherin was not going to let the situation fester in his absence. If any of those from the tavern had anything to say to him, they would have their opportunity.
So far they had only offered hostile silence.
The northern bank he faced offered little more, as the white-coated barren plains seemed unbroken all the way to the distant mountains rising up in the horizon, with no movement and no signs of life to show it was anything but empty. It might as well have been empty—
Save for the tunnels.
The northerner he had set free had said the tunnels created the paths to allow the northerners to move unseen, and Jarak had said the entrances were hidden from view by dips in the land. Where they led—and how many there were—had not been answered by either, though Kherin hadn’t had the chance to ask, and Jarak wouldn’t have bothered to answer.
“Looking for another northern throat to stick you cock down?”
Kherin spun quickly in the direction the words had come from, but he couldn’t identify the man or the voice in the group of Defenders who had gathered a short distance behind him. Six of them, and none from Delfore. And all of them were watching him despite the snickers that rippled from their group. The bitter winter air scraped against his cheeks as he looked at their faces, one by one, but no one owned up to the remark, and no one denied it.
Sounds from behind them stopped their laughter within moments, however, and they turned as one to follow Kherin’s gaze over their shoulders. Teren and Jaden stepped up to them and then around them as they approached the prince, and though their swords weren’t bared, their hands were ready. Neither looked over his shoulder as they stopped in front of Kherin, separating him from the Defenders. Delfore Defenders didn’t cower.
“My lord, Jarak has requested to speak to you,” Teren said formally, though his voice was loud enough to carry to those behind him. Kherin saw the scowls that formed on the faces of the watchers as they witnessed their play effectively cut short.
And he didn’t doubt that Teren’s words were a lie. The readiness of both Teren and Jaden told him that, but he didn’t argue against the summons either. Outnumbered as he was, it would have taken very little for one cutting remark to lead to another and for the situation to turn aggressive as the moods of the men fed off each other. But the presence of Defenders on Kherin’s side seemed to dissolve their intentions; they wouldn’t press the issue further when there were witnesses, and witnesses were what were gathering as more Defenders from Delfore began moving into view at the edge of the Defender camp.
Jarak himself was among them.
The group that had initiated the situation moved off without a word, with the Delfore Defenders following suit only after all kingdom Defenders were gone.
This first confrontation may have passed without violence, but with more than two weeks to go before this group would disband from Gravlorn, there was still time.
WHAT Kherin saw in the camp the following day was worse. Those from cities other than Delfore maintained a separation from the Delfore Defenders, with the division going so far as to have the kingdom Defenders gathering on the east, and the Delfore men taking positions to the west. The central campfire was for once uninhabited.
Jarak was the only one Kherin saw who approached both groups indiscriminately, though he did so with a wariness that was obvious even from Kherin’s position closer to the city.
“They would rather freeze than be caught standing too close to those they consider… what? The enemy?” Kherin’s voice was heavy with disgust, and he couldn’t help it from being directed at the Delfore Defenders as well as those from the kingdom. He hadn’t yet walked the path in between the two, though he fought his disbelief that it would come to this.
“No, my lord,” Karlton said at his shoulder, having taken his own position there without Kherin’s request or orders. “It is believed that those from the kingdom are itching for a fight, and so those of us from Delfore are giving them room so as to avoid one. We are saving our strength for the northerners.”
It was obvious that Karlton had been among those on the west before Kherin had made his appearance at the camp a second time, and Reshek had likely been as well, as he had followed Karlton’s lead to flank Kherin’s other side. Jarak was even now speaking to the apparent spokesman for the kingdom Defenders, though they were too far away for the words to be heard. Eyes from both sides were focused on him rather than the acting Defender Leader, however, although Kherin had little illusion as to which Defenders were alert for trouble and which ones would likely be the cause of it.
When he began his walk to the river’s edge, he made it a point to pass the central campfire on the east.
“SO WHAT exactly are you trying to prove?” Adrien demanded, following Kherin through the door of the hospice with a flurry of snow and falling ice. The door closed with a resounding thump that mimicked the fall of Kherin’s steps.
“I’m not trying to prove anything,” Kherin shot back. “My duty as a Defender requires my presence in the camp—”
“Don’t try to stand on protocol and duty, because that is not what you are doing out there,” Adrien cut in cleanly. Kherin had stopped and spun to face him, and Adrien approached with steps every bit as determined as his brother’s.
This was the first time in the three days since Kherin had returned to duty that Adrien had accompanied him, and while the presence of the heir may have silenced much of the talk, it had only increased the hostility in the stares he was still subjected to. Kherin had seen it, and he knew that whatever progress he had made toward a tentative peace between Delfore and kingdom Defenders, Adrien’s presence had nearly undone it.
Or had undone it, with the results of it yet to be seen. Gods, had the northerners attacked while Adrien walked with him through the camp, it was doubtful any of the Defenders would have even noticed until it was too late. At least any of the Defenders from outside Delfore. Karlton may have been right when he had said the kingdom Defenders were itching for a fight, and from what Kherin had seen, until they had it, they would be useless against the northerners.
The stitches on Kherin’s chin had been removed hours earlier, leaving only a fine red line that would fade to white over time, and effectively prevent a beard from becoming full should he ever think to grow one. The stitches in his shoulder, side, and thigh would take a bit longer, although the numbing salve Willum slathered over them at least prevented infection. What pain there was had become familiar enough that he no longer paid it any heed, even under the weight of the leather Defender armor.
And what was happening in the camp was more than enough to distract him even if the salve hadn’t worked.
“I’m not trying to prove anything,” Kherin repeated, loosening the straps that held the armor in place. The hall of the hospice probably wasn’t the place for this discussion, but it was happening here nonetheless. “What I’m doing is my duty as a Defender—”
“What you’re doing is aggravating the situation with the Defenders in the camp, and for no other reason than to soothe your—”
“Don’t say that this is about ego. That’s not the case, and you know it.” Kherin’s voice was nearly as cold as the ice in the streets. “And don’t say that I’m aggravating the situation by merely showing my face in the camp. I haven’t drawn a weapon on them, I haven’t demanded retribution or, Gods help us, an apology from them, and I have let every insult and slur they’ve thrown go unanswered. Whatever the issue they have with me, and whatever the problems their issue is causing inside that camp, it is not my doing.”
“Kherin….” Adrien sighed. Kherin hadn’t moved, but the set of his jaw said he wasn’t backing down from doing what he thought was right, and not even a full-scale battle between the Defenders from Delfore and the kingdom would make him see the wisdom of letting the matter settle in the camp before he thrust himself into the middle of it. Adrien let out another breath as he straightened, and he faced his brother squarely over the few feet that separated them.
“All right,” he said at last. “I don’t agree with what you’re doing—and you are doing this out of sheer stubbornness and pride, so don’t claim otherwise—but I’m not going to continue to argue with you about it. If you want to continue going to the camp under the pretense of duty, fine. But you will take Defenders from Delfore with you, and you won’t linger there any longer than it takes to fulfill your assignment.”
Kherin watched him without blinking. “That sounds like an order from the heir apparent.” His tone was conversational, but his eyes stayed cold.
Adrien’s were icy. “It is.”
The stillness between them then was nearly tangible. Adrien held his brother’s gaze for a long moment after his words faded, then he turned away abruptly to make his way to his own room. He didn’t look back and he said no more, but Kherin didn’t move until the door of the sickroom closed behind him.
Only then did he let out his own heavy breath and the curse it contained, and he turned to his own door—
And froze as the door was opened from the inside. A figure dressed in black stepped slowly into the hall, and eyes dark and cautious flicked over Kherin’s shoulder before settling on the prince’s face. Kherin’s heart stopped.
“It seems that things have changed in the time I’ve been away, my prince. I’m just not sure they are for the better.”
“Derek?”
A slow smile crossed the trader’s face, and Kherin’s lips spread to mirror it as he stared at the tall, handsome visage he hadn’t seen in—Gods, had it only been little more than a week? Then feeling returned to his paralyzed limbs, and he was moving without ever making the decision to do so, ignoring the pull of stitches still threading through his body as Derek opened his arms to welcome him. Both of them staggered as he threw himself into the trader’s arms, and he wrapped his own arms around the trader’s neck as Derek caught him and pulled him close. The smells of saddle oil, leather, and the trader’s own spicy scent filled Kherin’s senses. He closed his eyes as the fierceness of his beating heart threatened to shatter his ribs and the solidness of Derek pressed tightly against him fought to bring home the reality that Derek was back, that Derek was here—that it wasn’t a figment of his very real dreams that held him now in the hall of the hospice. The trader’s quiet chuckle sounded in his ear as he whispered a second breath-filled, “Derek.”
Relief and happiness tingled in his blood as Derek answered with a softly spoken, “I’ve missed you too, my prince.”
Moments or hours could have passed before Derek finally eased Kherin back, but the trader’s smile was still warm as he lifted his hand to brush the hair from Kherin’s face. Their eyes met and held as Kherin struggled to find words. He hadn’t thought to see Derek again before Delfore, and a hundred emotions he couldn’t name coursed through him as his own eyesight told him Derek had returned to Gravlorn instead of Delfore, far sooner than he would have ever thought possible, and for reasons he couldn’t begin to wonder about now. Then, as Derek’s fingers slipped from his hair to brush softly against his cheek, he realized he didn’t even care why; for now he cared only that Derek was here. Thinking of nothing beyond the fact that he had Derek back, Kherin leaned forward to cover the trader’s lips with his own—
And his heart nearly seized when Derek welcomed his kiss and returned it. The thought that Derek wouldn’t was something he hadn’t even considered through the muddle of his emotions, but the fact that Derek did—it was startling, and nearly enough so to spur him into breaking the kiss.
Only Derek didn’t let him go. Derek instead slipped his hand into the hair at Kherin’s neck as their kiss became deeper and more consuming, and Kherin couldn’t keep himself from pressing into him as the play of Derek’s lips over his own didn’t stop. Whatever caution Derek had had before his travel to Dennor was gone now, and Kherin couldn’t hold back his smile when Derek finally and reluctantly eased them apart.
The warmth of Derek’s eyes robbed him of words again, robbed him of anything but the feeling of hope and happiness swelling his heart—until he saw the warmth flicker to concern as Derek slipped his fingers down to catch his chin. His elation vanished the instant Derek firmly but gently tilted his chin up.
“It seems that more than a few things have changed, my prince, though it looks like you may have seen the worst of them.” Derek brushed his thumb lightly over the scar on Kherin’s chin as he spoke.
Kherin flushed self-consciously at the sudden reminder of the mark, and he let his hands fall as he took a step back, bringing his own fingers up to rub the marred flesh. “Willum only took out the stitches this morning,” he told the trader almost sheepishly. “It wasn’t deep, but he said it would leave a scar—”
He was surprised into silence when Derek closed his hand on his wrist, not harshly, but deliberately, and when he met the trader’s eyes, he saw only concern and gentle chiding in Derek’s gaze. Heat bloomed across his cheeks as he let his hand fall with a sigh, though he didn’t resist as Derek lifted his chin again. The sting was expected as Derek’s fingers brushed over the cut a second time.
“It’s not the scar I’m worried about it, Kherin,” Derek said easily and solemnly. “It’s what caused it that concerns me, along with the other wounds I know you will be feeling soon enough.”
Kherin’s cheeks burned hotter as he realized he should have known Derek would have already learned about his injuries, and likely from the healer if no one else. At least he had seen nothing of Derek in the camp to say that the trader had heard of them there.
“Arrows from the northerners—” Kherin began, dreading the explanation he would have to give, but his words were stopped as Derek moved his fingers up to seal his lips.
“Yes, I know,” the trader said simply, then his lips lifted into a quiet smile as he brushed Kherin’s cheek again. “And I want to hear what happened, but let me greet your brother first. You are not the only prince in residence in Gravlorn’s hospice, your highness.”
Kherin resisted snorting at the equal parts chiding and teasing in the trader’s words, though he couldn’t hold back his smile at the sheer familiarity of the trader’s easy humor. That was something he had missed nearly as much as the trader’s calming presence—
Then something warmer and altogether different filled him as Derek’s smile grew softer, and he was suddenly unable to move as Derek slid his fingers lower to trace the line of his jaw.
“Then once your brother is seen to,” Derek added softly, and with an equally familiar wink, “I think we have some catching up to do.”
THE sweat stung through the pull of the stitches, but it did nothing to dim the lust burning through his body as Derek moved over him. The slide of the tender skin of his thighs over the rocking of Derek’s hips created a friction that intensified the pleasurable slide of Derek’s cock. Lying on his back wasn’t the safest position given his injuries, but Kherin had wanted to see the trader as well as feel him, wanted to watch the passion burn in Derek’s eyes through the lust-filled haze that filled his own. He wanted to see Derek as the trader took him and know that this was real, know that every pleasure-ridden stroke that pounded into his body was given by the only man he had every truly wanted it from.
His panting was loud as it added to the low, rhythmic moans of the trader, and each labored breath brought with it the smells of mulled wine and spice and the heavy aroma of herbs from the salve that again eased Derek’s way. His hands dug into the flesh of Derek’s hips as he rocked with each deep and penetrating thrust. His own cock left a trail of clear wetness on his stomach as it shuddered with each meeting of their hips, but Kherin couldn’t force even a single hand down to stroke it. The pleasure sizzling through his body made him desperate to pull Derek deeper, made him push himself up to take Derek deeper, despite the healer’s instructions or his own knowledge of the threat of reinjury.
Gods how he had wanted this, and every pull of stitches was worth it when it meant he could again feel Derek inside him. The cost of a rented bed was worth it, and even the sleaziest bed in the city would have been perfect the moment Derek had spread him and mounted him.
That the bed Derek had chosen had again been in the attic room of the Harper’s Den had been a welcome surprise, and one that Derek had obviously intended given the warmth of his smile as he had led Kherin to the narrow stairs in the inn that led to the simple wooden door. Just being in the place where they had first experienced the true pleasure of each other’s bodies—without illness and without reservation—had been enough to ignite the fire in Kherin’s blood. It had been a thrilling relief that it had taken very little for their arms to find each other again once they had closed the door behind them—and even less for the kiss they had begun in the hospice to be resumed in the dimness of the attic room.
Only Derek’s hesitation once Kherin had been undressed spoiled the perfection of the night, but the bruised and healing flesh couldn’t be hidden once his clothes had been peeled away. Derek had known of them, but he hadn’t seen them before now. He would have stopped because of them—but Kherin had covered Derek’s hand with his own before any words could be spoken. He had moved the trader’s fingers from his injured side to the swollen head of his cock before Derek could choose caution over the physical pleasure they both wanted.
He had pressed himself into their joined fingers as he had whispered it was all right, and slid the trader’s palm along his length as he promised that Derek wouldn’t hurt him, that he wanted this as badly as Derek did.
Kherin had seen the simmering lust burning in the depths of Derek’s eyes when he had slowly raised his gaze to Kherin’s—and had watched it grow hotter as he stroked himself with Derek’s hand again. When Derek’s next stroke had been done without encouragement, Kherin knew he had stopped Derek from ending this. His own hands had been shaking as he loosened the ties of the trader’s own travel-worn clothes.
A gasp tore from his throat as Derek snapped into him hard, his cock driving deep and perfect, and fiery sparks of pleasure seared through him as he arched from the bed, although tonight lacked the same lust-driven roughness that had taken them the last time they had been in this room. Kherin may have wanted otherwise, may have demanded it with the writhing of his body and the wordless cries from his mouth, but the careful and deliberate movements of the trader made it clear that Derek wouldn’t risk hurting him while taking him. Derek would instead take only what he could without injury, with the press of his hands as much to hold Kherin still as hold him down, while every push of his hips was firm but merciful.
But as the heat of pleasure grew, the increasing strength of his thrusts also said Derek wouldn’t be able to maintain his restraint much longer. Kherin felt it when Derek shifted enough to slip his hand between them, and his breath sounded sharply when Derek wrapped his hand around his straining cock. The hard strokes that followed were made harder by the movement of their bodies as Derek continued to rock into him, and Kherin arched into them as he gave himself up to the roughest handling Derek could offer this night.
But it was more than enough. Kherin’s breathing grew sharper and more desperate as his cock was raked in the midst of fingers and their own heaving stomachs. His legs lifted and tightened despite the pull of stitches as Derek thrust harder and faster. Derek’s hand on his hip grew forceful as Kherin struggled against the weight, and his cries grew louder as he fought for all of the pleasure Derek offered….
Then his cries broke sharply as he heaved his body up, and his cock burst in the trader’s fingers as the storm of pleasure swept over him. Warm, sticky wetness showered them both, though the pounding of Derek’s hips grew sharper with each pulsing spurt of his release. Then, even as Kherin’s voice eased to soft, torturous moans, the trader’s gasps lowered to growls as he neared the edge of his own shattering release.
Then Kherin cried out again as Derek snapped his hips hard, and the breath torn from the trader’s lungs swept over him as Derek erupted inside him. Kherin clenched his hands in the trader’s flesh as he felt the wet heat coat his channel, and the bed creaked under them as he rocked with the pleasure of Derek’s orgasm as well as his own.
Awareness of the harsh scrape of their breaths came slowly to Kherin through the silence of the attic room, and he slid his hands along the sweaty flesh of the trader’s back as their bodies slowly settled and stilled. The sated lust he felt was mirrored in the trader’s eyes when he could focus at last on the trader’s face. Derek slipped his hand from Kherin’s softening cock to trail a warm and wet path over the prince’s hip as he lowered himself to rest. Kherin’s arms and legs were still wrapped around him as their lips met in a kiss.
The smell of the herb-infused salve mingled with the scents of sweat and cum as the kiss lingered between them, until a last sharp but unmistakable thrust pushed the breath from Kherin’s lungs a moment before Derek lifted his head to face him. The trader took his weight on one arm as he raised the other to sweep his fingers through Kherin’s damp hair, and his voice was warm and affectionate as he gazed down into the prince’s eyes.
“I need to check your stitches, my prince. I wouldn’t bet on them not tearing no matter how careful we were.”
“They’re fine,” Kherin answered him quietly, smiling as he pulled the ends of the tail Derek still wore over his shoulder and wound the strands around his fingers. It was longer than Kherin could ever remember seeing it, though it suited the trader. He doubted Derek would continue to let it grow, however, even if he asked him to. Short hair would be nearly impossible to maintain during his travels throughout the kingdom, but hair too long would come with its own problems when grooming was typically limited. Derek had told him that once, and while Kherin had no doubt it was true, he would let himself enjoy the thick, silky strands for as long he was able. Especially when the hair in his fingers could be used so effectively to pull Derek back into a kiss when it seemed he was about to pull away.
“Ah, my prince, it seems your blood runs hot even in winter,” Derek laughed softly. He nipped Kherin’s lips lightly as their bodies continued to play, but did pull back at last, and the words he spoke this time were as much teasing as serious. “But I’m not willing to face the healer’s wrath by allowing those cuts to fester to infection, and you would do well to remember he could overrule us both when it comes to the matter of releasing you from the hospice.”
The mention of the healer brought a quiet snort to Kherin’s lips, though it was caught laughingly against Derek’s lips a moment before the trader lifted himself off. His cock had softened enough that withdrawal wasn’t painful, and Kherin was rewarded for his reluctant release by being graced with another full view of Derek’s body while the trader retrieved the cloth he would use to clean them. Taut muscles and smooth, sweat-dampened skin caught the flickering light of the candle to create a teasing display of shadows, and Kherin let his gaze trail from the darkened nipples still peaked from the attentions of his own fingers to the sated cock he already wanted inside him again.
The sight of Derek’s ass as he turned warmed his blood even further, though the heat moved to his cheeks when Derek turned back. There was no mistaking the knowing amusement in the trader’s eyes as he moved back to the bed.
The touch of the dampened cloth to Kherin’s cock pulled a gasp from him and a chuckle from the trader, but Derek was efficient and careful, and the cleaning of his own cock was cursory. And when it was done, Derek merely seated himself on the bed at Kherin’s side, making no move to cover either of them, though this wasn’t the first time they had been naked in each other’s presence. Kherin trailed his hand up the length of the trader’s arm as Derek reached for him….
But the trader’s touch had become critical and assessing as it centered on Kherin’s stitches.
The cut in his side had knitted well with the passing of days and the aid of the stitches, but it stung nonetheless as Derek traced the threads lightly with his finger. More from the pull of skin than the wound it closed, Kherin knew, though he doubted he would have to tell Derek that.
“The arrow didn’t sink too deeply, given how quickly this is healing,” the trader mused as he examined the stitches more closely. The same examination was given to the cuts on his thigh and then his back, and to the slice on his arm that had proven more painful than damaging. Derek finally turned his attention to the mark on his chin, though his touch had become much more a caress as he turned Kherin’s head to the side. “At least none of the stitches have torn, and the wounds that have closed are healing well, though I expect you may experience more soreness than usual tomorrow.”
“None of them were direct hits, and I was wearing Defender armor,” Kherin began, determined to keep Derek from dwelling on them, and having already relegated the promised soreness to a welcome payment for the treatment he had received in Derek’s bed.
But Derek didn’t meet his gaze and instead kept his own on Kherin’s scar as he spoke quietly. “Tell me what happened.”
Kherin felt the dread of having to give an explanation in return, although once resigned to telling the story of the attack, his descriptions were quick and without added drama. Derek retrieved the same salve that had eased his entrance as Kherin described the suddenness of the northerners’ appearance and the fierceness with which they attacked, and then used it to cover the stitches carefully but thoroughly as the story changed to the charge of cowardice levied by Gresham, and the one of treason made by the Defenders.
The tale had reached its end by the time Derek had finished, though Kherin’s uncertainty about Derek’s opinion of everything that had happened kept him from fully enjoying the intimacy as Derek at last eased down beside him. Derek pulled the blankets to their waists before he turned to his side to lie with one arm curled beneath his head, and Kherin moved closer to the trader’s warmth, though somewhat hesitantly given he had yet to hear Derek’s reaction. Derek surprised him by resting his free hand lightly on his hip, and Kherin answered the touch by reaching again for the tail he was quickly gaining a fetish for and pulling it over the trader’s shoulder. He wrapped the ends in his fingers as they settled close enough to kiss.
But kissing wasn’t Derek’s intention this time.
“You’ve told me what happened, my prince, but you’ve not yet told me why.” Derek’s quiet smile kept the statement from becoming a reproach, though the soothing stroke of his hand from Kherin’s hip to his waist did more to ensure Kherin didn’t take it as such. “Your Defender Leader is imprisoned, your Defenders are taking sides, and the northerner who was ordered to remain under guard has regained his freedom. And that’s not mentioning the words I heard between you and your brother in the hospice.” He stroked a soft line down and back up. “What brought all of this about?”
“You mean you haven’t already heard?” Kherin almost snorted as he asked that question. That was unlikely, given how sharply Derek had honed his skills in gathering information over the years. But though Kherin had sounded more resentful than he intended to be with his answer, Derek’s indulgent smile said at least the trader wasn’t offended by it.
“Yes, I have already heard, and from more than one source,” Derek confirmed with an air of good humor. “But I want to hear it from you.”
Kherin sighed as he twisted the ends of the dark hair, but finally began the tale that had nothing to do with the attack. The freeing of the northerner was taken without comment, although the mention of Elli and her persistent visits made Derek raise an amused eyebrow. Gresham’s presence in the brawl was also unsurprising to Derek, though the mention of the other Defenders in the Silver Fish brought a wary frown to the trader’s face. Kherin’s recital of Adrien’s actions after the visit to the inn changed it to an expression of careful understanding. And when Kherin repeated the words he had said to Adrien in which he claimed that he wasn’t trying to prove or provoke anything, Derek only threaded his fingers through the hair at Kherin’s ear. It sounded less convincing saying it to Derek than it had to his brother—but maybe that was because with Derek, he wasn’t willing to coat the truth.
And the truth was that stubbornness and pride had played largely in his actions following the accusations in the tavern, no matter how much he would like to claim otherwise. But at least Derek chose not to call him out on it.
“So you and the kingdom Defenders maintain a tense silence while each of you wait for the spark that will send the entire camp into flames,” Derek said quietly instead, letting his words drift around them as he moved his fingers through the prince’s hair. “It seems in that respect, you may be doing the northerners’ work for them.”
“Do you think I was wrong in freeing the northerner?” Kherin demanded suddenly, watching Derek’s eyes in the dim light of candle. “I offered him a trade, information for his freedom, and he held up his end of the bargain. I couldn’t deny my end. Not when I gave him my word—”
Derek’s quiet laugh stilled the prince, though it was the type of laughter that was meant to be calming rather than mirthful, and as the trader slipped his hand to the scar on his chin, Kherin had to admit that it was.
“Ah, Kherin. Bargaining always comes with a price, and what you receive in return for the cost decides if the bargain was wise,” Derek told him softly, meeting Kherin’s eyes as he brushed his thumb gently. “By simply making the offer you learned more about the northerners than any Defender in memory, and by honoring your bargain you may have gained far more than the knowledge of their tunnels.”
“You mean the Akhael?” Kherin shook his head slightly. “He mentioned them, but he said nothing about them—”
“Are you sure?” Derek cut in, raising his eyebrow again over his smile. “Think about his words, my prince, and you may find he told you more than he realized.”
Kherin had, but he hadn’t seen anything more in the northerner’s words than acknowledgment that the Akhael existed. He still didn’t. But Derek was waiting and he let out his breath before reciting the words the northerner had said to him.
“He said that we should flee Akhael, as they should have, and that they fight for the fear of their lives, rather than willingly against the Llarien kingdom. Because of the… blood magic, or whatever it is that the Akhael use. But we don’t know anything about magic. It’s been gone from Llarien longer than anyone can remember.”
“While the true northern tribes know it far too well,” Derek added quietly, but Kherin only shook his head.
“That may be true, but it doesn’t really help, since the northerners aren’t going to cross the river to teach us about the magic—” He stopped as Derek slowly raised his eyebrow again.
“And yet they are crossing the river, my prince,” Derek reminded him gently. “Though it seems they are merely hiding in the southern lands until they are found or are given reason to attack.”
Kherin stared at the seriousness of the trader’s tone. “Hiding among the Defenders or the commoners in the cities…?” Kherin studied the trader’s eyes as understanding began to dawn. Derek had said the true northern tribesmen were crossing…. “Derek, are you saying that the northerners are coming to Llarien because they are fleeing the Akhael?”
Derek laughed at Kherin’s startled question, then pulled Kherin close and brushed a quick kiss over his lips. “That is what Dar believes, my prince, though I would be careful in assuming that every northerner in Llarien is a fugitive of the Akhael. But their reasons aside, the fact that northerners are likely to be found here as well as in Lorn and Dennor—”
“Means we don’t have to capture a northerner, we only have to find one.” Kherin lifted himself to one elbow as the thought took hold, and he saw the approval that made it to the trader’s eyes when he looked down at him. Only the approval didn’t warm Kherin the way it had often done in the past—because that knowledge alone didn’t answer the one question they had had since their first day in Gravlorn. “But that just brings us back to why they would tell us anything about the north or the Akhael. They have no reason to help us.”
Derek’s smiled widened, and his eyes grew warmer as he touched Kherin’s cheek. “And you had no reason to honor your bargain with one of their countrymen. Yet you did.” The surprise that slowly filled Kherin’s eyes actually made him chuckle. “Never underestimate the power of keeping your promises, my prince. The trust it builds can open doors that not even the most diplomatic of arguments would unlock.”
Kherin stared, too stunned to speak. His bargain the day he had made it had been nothing more than that, but the enormity of realizing that his simple act of honor may have done more than merely uphold the reputation of the royal house, done something he hadn’t even considered the day he faced the northerner in the Open Door inn.
“But don’t set your hopes too high on overcoming the wariness of the northerners so easily, my prince,” Derek cautioned gently as he pulled Kherin back down to lie beside him. “You may have laid the foundation for garnering their trust, but it may take more than a single act of goodwill to warrant the risk of losing the security they have found in hiding.”
Caution on the heels of approval. Something so typical of Derek that the words brought a smile to Kherin’s face, while the warmth of the trader’s following chuckle turned it rueful a moment later.
“Patience, my prince,” Derek told him as his own smile lingered. “If northerners are here, be sure they are watching. And as long as your actions remain sincere—”
“I can build on what little trust I’ve gained,” Kherin finished, and the measure of pride that joined the approval in Derek’s eyes sent a warmth flowing through him that had nothing to do with Derek’s idle stroking of his hip. But the trader merely hummed his assent instead of answering, and he moved willingly closer to Derek as the slow stroke of his hands urged him closer. He closed his eyes as Derek leaned to trail kisses along the skin beneath his ear, and tilted his head back as he slipped his hands over the trader’s shoulders. He found the soft thickness of the tail tied at Derek’s neck once again as the kisses against his skin pressed deeper.
All talk could have ceased then, and the salve that had smoothed Derek’s entrance once could have slicked them both again as he spread himself for Derek’s taking a second time, but the second demonstration of Derek’s physical willingness sparked a curiosity that brought different words to Kherin’s lips, and they were spoken coarsely and haltingly as he fought against the pleasure he so wanted to give in to.
“Derek? Why… why are you willing to do this now?”
Had he been expecting his words to startle the trader into stillness, he would have been disappointed. Derek’s kisses and slow strokes continued, though both moved higher, until it was Kherin’s cheek that was held under the trader’s palm, and the prince’s lips that felt the touch of Derek’s own.
But the kiss didn’t last long, and as Derek pulled back enough so that they could see each other’s face, Kherin forced out the words he hoped wouldn’t send them back to the days before Gravlorn.
“When you left,” he whispered quietly, watching the light of the candle cast dancing reflections in the trader’s dark eyes, “you were still certain this couldn’t happen because of what my father would say. But now…. Gods, Derek, I don’t mean—”
“I know what you mean, my prince,” Derek laughed gently, and he silenced Kherin’s words with his thumb rather than his lips this time, though he paused before continuing his own. And the painful fear of what was to come sliced through him for just an instant before the deepening warmth of the trader’s eyes stopped it cold.
“I told you once that we must take what we are given, just as you’ve said to me that no one should be allowed to make our decisions for us.” Derek smiled softly as his thumb continued to stroke. “It seems you listened to my words far better than I listened to yours.”
“Derek…,” Kherin began, but the trader stopped his words with tender ones of his own.
“I meant what I said the morning I left you at the stables, my prince. I do love you, and that will never change.” A hint of sadness touched his smile as he moved his thumb again over Kherin’s lips. “But I just never understood how much until you were gone.”
Kherin stared as his mind heard the words and his heart refused to let them go, and his breath was held frozen in his lungs until Derek slipped his finger up to stroke his cheek. That was the moment Kherin dared to believe the words he was hearing were true, but he needed to hear them out loud to be sure.
“Derek,” he rasped out at last, “are you saying you came back because you want this…?”
Derek’s laugh was quiet and warm, and his kiss was slow and gentle over Kherin’s lips. And when he slipped back again, Kherin saw only the truth in the depths of his eyes.
“Yes, my prince. I am.”
The icy grip on Kherin’s heart shattered with those words, and with a sob of relief he pressed himself into Derek’s arms with a kiss that he couldn’t give—or take—enough of. Derek’s breath of laughter made it through their lips as he returned the kiss with a fervor of his own, and their bodies pressed together in a tangle of arms and legs before Derek twisted suddenly, rolling Kherin beneath him and covering his body with his own. Their cocks were aware and hardening, but they were ignored as Kherin’s heart beat out a rhythm against Derek’s that had nothing to do with sex.
Then a single cold knot formed as one stark and final question tightened Kherin’s stomach, and he struggled to ask it before Derek’s kisses stole the remainder of his coherent thoughts.
“What about when I return to Delfore?”
Hearing himself ask the question was like a stab in his gut, but Kherin hadn’t said the wrong word when he referred to only himself. He had never known Derek as anything other than a trader for the royal house, and he had known since their very first meeting inside the walls of the castle that Derek’s work wouldn’t allow him to stay in any city for long. Traveling the kingdom on the king’s business was an obligation Derek had accepted the moment he had taken on the duties of a trader—
Which meant that despite everything Derek said and everything Derek did in Gravlorn, when Kherin returned to the castle, he would return alone.
Derek would have to go elsewhere as the work for his father demanded.
Only now…
Now Kherin didn’t want to watch as Derek left to perform his duties for the crown, and he didn’t want to wait and wonder as the days and weeks passed when and if Derek would return. Waiting for Derek physically wasn’t in question, but not knowing when he would see the trader again, or how long he would have him when he did….
And knowing that news of Derek’s death could come just as unexpectedly as the trader’s return to the royal city, at any moment and with no warning….
The thought twisted the knot in Kherin’s stomach. Simply not knowing was the one thing that could rear its head between them, and it would remain so even when the northerners had become nothing more than a distant memory.
Derek’s quiet laugh was followed by a brief touch of his lips and then the gentle brush of his nose against Kherin’s. “There will be time to deal with our futures later, my prince, when the border is safe and you are not held together by stitches.”
It wasn’t a substantial enough answer to settle the knot in Kherin’s stomach, but he had little choice but to accept that later would have to do, as Derek likely had no more answers than he did. And the certainty of the kiss Derek pressed against his lips this time drove the uncertainty of what would happen in Delfore away for the moment. He had Derek now, and that would have to be enough—for now. When their lips separated again, Kherin finally found the strength to say words he had said only one time before, though he meant them with everything inside him.
“I love you, Derek.”
Derek’s smile was warm and full, and the honesty that filled his eyes as well as his words was breathtaking. “I love you too, my prince.”
And then Derek gently pushed himself off to settle them again on their sides. The heat of the trader’s body was strong and obvious as he pulled Kherin to him, but his words were practical and kind as he wrapped them both in blankets. “We should rest while we can, since you are due for an interesting conversation with Dar tomorrow.”
The scholar slept two floors below them, but Kherin had yet to meet him.
Derek reached to extinguish the candle and then dipped under the blankets and traced the length of Kherin’s erection in the darkness. Derek chuckled quietly as he found the prince’s arousal undoubtedly unsurprising, and Kherin snorted softly as the proof of his physical response despite his wayward emotions was stroked warmly by the trader’s fingers.
“We can see to this later as well,” Derek told him, teasing lightly with his words and his hand, “when you have recovered a little longer and are less likely to incur the wrath of the healer.”
Kherin groaned softly as he pressed into the trader’s touch despite Derek’s words, but Derek’s quiet laugh and the feel of his arms circling around him said his words had been serious. And Derek was right; the scholar would be expecting their visit the following morning, while the healer would likely want to see him much sooner. Adrien would want to see them both as well, as would Jarak, given that it was likely the acting Defender Leader already knew that Derek had returned. The sudden realization that Jarak had more than likely been one of the sources Derek had contacted to learn what was happening in Gravlorn nearly made him laugh.
But all that could wait as he burrowed closer to the trader and let the silence of the inn creep around him, and he felt a familiar flicker of warmth at the gentle kiss Derek pressed to his forehead. Though his erection was still unanswered and Derek had backed away from his willingness to take him a second time, the trader was still here, and for the next few hours, Kherin wouldn’t let his thoughts wander further than that.
THE darkness of night hadn’t yet broken when Kherin opened his eyes again, and the deep, even breathing of Derek next to him told him he hadn’t awakened the trader with the shift of his body beneath the blankets. But the stroke of the blankets over his cock confirmed it was arousal that had pulled him from sleep, and the fires it set to his nerves made him shift again as he slid his hands down the length of his body in the near silence of the room. What Derek had told him in the moments before sleep and the sheer pleasure of the trader’s warmth after had allowed his erection to subside enough for him to rest hours ago, but the intensity of the arousal that filled him now wouldn’t cease for anything short of release this time.
And though he had no interest in sticking his cock down any northern throat, the sudden thought of having Derek’s cock down his made his own cock throb deep enough to force a gasp. Wetness touched his fingers and his stomach as his tender slit gave up its first burning drops.
Slipping beneath the blankets was slow and sensual torture, and the friction of the linens as he slid into the warm darkness brought a sharpness to his breath as he fought the urge to thrust into them. The smell of the trader’s warmth and musk made even the pull of his stitches irrelevant as he pushed himself lower, until at last he reached his destination and he moistened his lips in preparation.
Derek’s skin was warm as he eased the trader’s legs apart, and Derek shifted restlessly as he settled between them. A deeper breath escaped the trader’s lungs as he rested his hand on Derek’s hips, and then Kherin heard it hitch as he let his own breath ghost over the straining erection rising proudly from the mass of dark hair around it.
Then the slide of his own hips on the bed brought a low hiss from his lips as he settled lower, and his tongue traced a warm, wet path from the trader’s balls to his swollen and leaking crown.
“WHERE the fuck is he?” Sethan’s voice hissed as much from his anger as it did from the cold, and the glare he threw to those around him said he wanted an answer. Tristan, the promising recruit he had gathered into the ranks of his army, wasn’t among them, however; he had seemingly vanished, as had the fucking scholar who held the key to the magic he wanted to own.
As had the fucking trader who had shown up just in time for his latest speech. Derek Resh, it seemed, was gone too, but not before the trader had set the fucking guard and the fucking Defenders on his heels. Two Defenders that had followed his every fucking move until tonight….
“He was with the royal trader.”
Sethan’s dark eyes bore into speaker as he stepped up to the space just in front of him, and the merchant’s son cowered back from the glare he leveled on him.
“The scholar… Dar…,” the speaker continued hurriedly, swallowing as he met Sethan’s gaze. “He spoke to the king’s trader a few days ago—”
“I know he spoke to the fucking trader!” Sethan bit out angrily. “But what I want to know is where the fuck he is!”
And suddenly he knew, as oh so suddenly the pieces of fell into place. The fucking scholar had vanished at the same time the fucking trader had left the city… because the fucking trader had taken the scholar with him.
“Fuck!” Sethan growled, spinning back to the empty alley and the remains of Dar’s home. The royal fucking trader had taken his one source of information about the magic away from him. The Gods damn him….
“And Tristan… he hasn’t been seen since the trader left either….”
Teeth were bared, but it was far, far from a smile Sethan wore as he turned. So the trader had taken the scholar and one of his most loyal followers…?
His face twisted in rage as he whirled back to the small gathering of loyal soldiers—
But whatever he would have said went unspoken, as all their heads turned to follow the sounds of footsteps approaching from behind them. Defender armor and city guard uniforms shown in the light of the lamps around the square, and the number of faces that regarded Sethan and his group proved the gathering to be outnumbered.
“It’s too late to be spending time gossiping in the market,” one of the Defenders said genially, settling his gaze on Sethan while the gaze of another rested on the others.
Sethan glared in rage, but the Defender merely smiled.
“Allow us to make sure you all get home safely.”
TRISTAN bit out a curse as he pulled his cloak and the blankets he had thrown over them tighter around him. He was still cold, and he leaned closer to the heat of the horse he had stolen from the city and coaxed into lying on the frozen ground no matter how much the beast would have preferred to stand. He had learned how to handle the beasts in the royal stables in Delfore, but that was the only lesson he was grateful to have been given in the royal city. What he had learned at the hands of the second prince of the country however—that was only that people were nothing more than tools or toys to be used by royal hands for their own needs and pleasures, and then discarded like the trash from the kitchens.
But Kherin was in Gravlorn—he would wager his soul against the Gods themselves on that—and he himself would be in the Defender city tomorrow. He would have been there already had it not been for the weather—he knew where the city lay, had even served there during his last tenure as a Defender, and he had known before Kherin had cost him his position that the prince was assigned to the city for his own tenure this time.
And though he knew that Kherin’s broken leg had exempted him from his duty this year, he also knew that Derek had left Dennor to travel to Gravlorn instead of the royal capital… and was taking the scholar to the Defender city instead of the castle….
Oh, it was true that the trader could be taking Dar to see Adrien, but he doubted it given the number of times he had heard Kherin’s name whispered while the trader had been in the port city of Dennor. It seemed that more than those in Delfore were aware of Kherin’s infatuation with the trader.
And he didn’t doubt that the trader couldn’t wait to bury his cock in the prince’s ass again.
Oh yes, he had already figured out that Derek was fucking the prince—he hadn’t denied it after all, and he had spent every moment he could spare during his visits to Delfore hidden away with his precious Prince Kherin, while Kherin had practically thrown himself on the trader every time Derek crossed the threshold of the castle.
In fact, he acknowledged bitterly, Derek had probably been fucking Kherin for years, while he and the rest of those Kherin had called on for pleasure were left with the crumbs. Crumbs that were given only after the trader had gone.
Crumbs that he had actually been grateful for, once upon a time.
Another curse hissed through his lips as he settled in the sparse shelter between the horse and the trees, and visions of the revenge he would take filled his mind as he stared at the darkness around him.
Revenge for the loss of his position in the royal stables was unquestionable, as that was where he had thought to spend his life during the times he wasn’t filling Kherin’s bed….
But revenge for being made a fool of by the second prince of Llarien, for making him believe it was him that Kherin spread his ass so willingly for all those nights he had come to Kherin’s bedchamber—that was what Tristan truly wanted. He had been nothing more than a substitute for the cock Kherin had wanted pounding into his ass.
And fucking Gods, Kherin had probably pretended it was the trader all along, that it had been Derek Resh’s cock that had brought him to each soul-tearing orgasm he had experienced inside his bedchamber, and the fucking trader who had left him sobbing and shaking in the mess of his tangled sheets in the aftermath of their brutal sex—and Kherin had done it every single time he had knelt on his bed and lifted his ass for the taking….
A sudden and cruel laugh cut into the stillness of the trees around him.
Kherin may not have known who was stripping the walls of his channel back then, but he would know exactly who tore his ass open next time….
And he would beg for mercy or death long before the rape was over.
Tristan bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile.
Because even as loud as Kherin screamed, it wouldn’t be the second prince of the royal house who screamed the loudest.
That would be Derek.
Because Tristan would make sure Derek would be right there to watch.