“SO THE magic is real?” Kherin asked, casting a quick glance at Derek before settling his gaze again on the scholar. The trailing beard and simple robes were nearly exactly as Kherin had imagined they would be, and the repeating of the story of magic and the Akhael had been accompanied by the unadulterated air of authority that most instructors assumed when lecturing their students. At least the instructors that Kherin had known. The difference now was that the knowledge that filled this scholar’s eyes was also tempered with kindness, something Kherin had rarely seen in any of his tutors in Delfore.
Even now the scholar merely curled his lips in a smile that was both tolerant and knowing. “Did you truly doubt that it was, your highness?”
This lower room in the Harper’s Den didn’t have the privacy the room he now shared with Derek in the attic did, but Derek had chosen to meet with the scholar here rather than force the old man to climb any more steps than necessary. While Dar’s room also contained more luxuries than the room in the attic, it was smaller, and the fact that it shared the floor with other rooms was a point that was consistently made. The sounds of the inn could be heard clearly here despite the closed and locked door. Kherin didn’t have to question how the privacy and peace of the attic had made it the most favorable choice for the trader. The noise he heard in this room would have been more than a little disrupting to someone who consistently kept early hours.
The straight-backed chair Kherin was seated on wasn’t the most comfortable chair in the room either, but he had left the padded chair for Adrien, and his brother had taken it without question when he had joined him and Derek for this meeting. Jarak had joined them as well, and the blacksmith had taken a position next to Derek. Both stood to Kherin’s side, though Jarak’s posture remained more formal than that of the trader, and his face was less expressive as he listened to the others without comment.
But while Adrien obviously appeared the more official of the two princes who had interrupted the scholar’s morning, it had been Kherin who had questioned Dar thus far, and the younger prince who remained foremost in the ancient scholar’s attention.
Dar laughed from his place on the single bed, though not unkindly. “The folly of youth, your highness, is that they forget the things of the past and assume the beliefs of today were the same as those of yesterday. Magic is gone, and therefore it has always been gone. That is the way of it, is it not?”
Kherin flushed as his lips tightened, and he couldn’t help feeling again like a child in the face of a reprimanding tutor. But in truth, that was exactly what Dar was—a former tutor, and one old enough to have been one of Kherin’s when he still attended the classes his father demanded. Dar claimed never to have been to the capital city, but Kherin had little doubt he would have found a place on his father’s staff if he had.
Derek offered him a consoling wink when Kherin glanced at him again, but he had little doubt the trader was amused by the kindly given chastisement.
Yet, Kherin couldn’t find it in himself to be truly offended by either of them. Not when he had awakened to find Derek still lying next to him, warm and naked, and not when the trader had been so affectionate in his touches as he himself began to stir into wakefulness.
It had struck him then that it was the first time Kherin had ever awakened to find the trader still with him, as every morning before—from the travel to Gravlorn to the one night they had spent together in this very inn before now—had seen Derek already awake and well into his morning routine by the time Kherin had opened his eyes.
But Derek had been beside him this morning, with his cock well-satisfied from Kherin’s early morning attentions and the linens stiff where Kherin’s own release had stained them. And though Kherin had had little doubt they could be inspired enough to add to the smell of sex that had still hung heavily in the air, Derek’s warning that their morning meal would be delivered sooner rather than later had prodded him in to movements not related to sex far too soon.
The need to forego anything more physical had been softened by the kiss Derek had given him before they were fully dressed, however, and the visit to the healer had then confirmed that Kherin’s stitches remained intact, even if the healer’s commending them for the lack of additional bruising on Kherin’s skin had brought a heat to Kherin’s face that confirmed Willum’s assumption about the night they had spent in the Harper’s Den. Derek had merely raised an eyebrow without comment.
While Kherin was due for his turn in camp once the evening neared, until then, they had time to hear everything Dar would tell them.
Dar was surprisingly forthcoming despite his obvious disappointment in learning that the northerner he had hoped to visit had since been removed from the city. With every word Dar spoke, Kherin could see in him the tutor he had once been.
“Yes, your highness, the magic is real,” Dar went on now, meeting the prince’s eyes with a light shining in his own, “though few would believe you if you said it aloud, and the practice has long since been forgotten. But there are always those who happen across the old memories, and would seek to return to it for their own gain.” His weathered gaze slipped to Derek as his expression grew solemn. “Sethan Alderson is one who would return the magic to this land, and those who have banded with him follow him to their own peril.”
“Councilman Alderson’s son?” Adrien asked, adding to the few words he had said since this meeting had begun, and drawing all eyes to him as he said the name aloud. While it was Adrien’s duty as heir to be at least familiar with those given localized authority over their cities, Kherin recognized the name as well. He wasn’t completely oblivious to the workings of the kingdom.
“The very same, your highness,” Dar confirmed, though his face crinkled in a smile as he addressed the elder prince. “But the trouble he causes is not his father’s doing, though the councilman gives more leeway than is healthy for the boy.” His gaze slipped to Derek again. “It may be wise to advise the king to look into the actions of the councilman, however, as leeway given once is often given twice, and not always to the benefit of the king.”
Kherin looked between them as he witnessed for the first time the actual workings of Derek as a trader, though Derek only nodded at the scholar’s words.
“I spoke to a Defender named Carrick while in Dennor, and he is taking stock of the situation there,” Derek said then, formally and officially yet still somewhat easily. “Carrick will inform the king if further action becomes necessary. And he has been given the authority to gain the aid of the city guards to ensure things do not turn out badly.” His eyes never left the scholar as he spoke, but Kherin recognized the tone that said the trader had chosen his words carefully. And his glance at the scholar said Dar had understood.
He felt his curiosity pique as he studied the trader again. Derek hadn’t mentioned seeing Carrick in Dennor until now, but he had said little of his travels to the port city in general in the time they had spent together so far. But there was no question that Derek was the only one who could have given Carrick the authority to pull the services of city guards to his aid, as none of the royal family had been in Dennor at the time. Derek could even pull the services for himself if they proved to be needed. Derek had explained his ability to do that years ago, when Kherin had first learned of the authority the trader held.
“It’s an authority your father granted to protect the news gathered in his cities and ensure it will be returned to his ears,” Derek had said simply.
“By protecting you,” Kherin had clarified then.
Derek’s smile had been warm. “Ah yes, my prince. But it was never meant to strip the command from city guards or Defenders, and using it as such would have detrimental effects. I am not the only one to report to your father.”
Meaning that abuse of the power would result in the loss of favor Derek held. But as to how Derek had ever managed to garner that kind of favor….
“By simply doing my job well enough and for long enough without the permission of authority to make it a reasonable permission to grant. I haven’t always been able to press guards and Defenders into duty, my prince.”
The last words had been full of teasing when Derek had said them, but at least Derek had been kind when he pointed out that there was likely much happening by order of the king that Kherin was unaware of. Kherin had only snorted in response.
But for Derek to give that permission to Carrick, and do so in Dennor….
Carrick wasn’t a member of the royal house, and he wasn’t a noble or guard in Dennor. He was a miller from Delfore, with only a passing acquaintance with the king and princes and little interest in politics beyond the prices from his own mill. And yet his father had pulled him into duty to travel to Dennor, and Derek had given his authority to Carrick instead of Dennor’s city guards.
His sudden curiosity about exactly what Derek had seen in Dennor was shattered a moment later, however, as Dar returned his attention to him.
“The magic Sethan Alderson wishes to return is not the liberating force he believes it to be, your highness, and it will return this land to one of bloody battles for supremacy should he succeed,” Dar continued ominously. “But that is not the reason your trader has brought me to this Defender city, is it?”
Kherin nearly started at the directness of the question, but Dar’s gaze had already turned to Adrien.
“You were witness, your highness, to the magic in the days after you were touched by a northern blade, though it is little surprise you recognized the battle between the entity you carry in your own blood and magic that sought to draw it out. And you”—his gaze went back to Kherin—“have seen it as well, used against you the day you crossed the river into their land.” His eyes moved silently between them. “Make no mistake, my young princes, neither of you were intended to survive the touch of magic you experienced, and it is only a sign of the Akhael’s weakened state that you did indeed live through it.”
The magic and the Destroyer. That was what Dar was referring to. Dar hadn’t shied away from the fact that the Destroyer would destroy its bearer as well as the magic it devoured if the presence of magic was great enough, though even now Kherin admittedly had little grasp on the understanding of either. He didn’t have the years of dedicated study that Dar had, and he didn’t have time to learn as intimately as the scholar what it was the Akhael were bringing to the southern kingdom.
But there was one thing Kherin did want to understand, and something only indirectly related to the magic of the Akhael.
“So why us?” Kherin demanded pointedly, ignoring the dire references to what should have been their deaths. Adrien hadn’t ignored the scholar’s words, he noted without looking, but it wasn’t knowing what could have killed them that sharpened Kherin’s words. It was knowing what still could. “How can they—the Akhael—be so sure that Adrien bears this Destroyer you spoke about? How could they know that Adrien—”
“And what makes you think that you do not?”
Kherin froze, and the stillness that filled the room encompassed them all as Dar pinned him with his stare.
“Tell me, your highness,” Dar went on without blinking. “Have you never noticed the color of your hair?”
Kherin blinked at the strangeness of the question. His hair was the color of dark chestnuts, something he had been told by his nurses in the castle when he had been barely old enough to speak. He met the scholar’s eyes, but Dar didn’t look away.
“It is the same shade as the heir’s, and there are others in this kingdom who possess that exact shade as well. You will not, however, find it among the northern tribesmen or the Akhael, as it is only borne by those harboring the Destroyer in their blood.”
“The… Akhael recognized Adrien because of the color of his hair?” The thought was so unbelievable that Kherin couldn’t stop the shake of his head, though Dar nodded slowly as he continued.
“As much as you would discard the notion, that is exactly how they recognized your brother, and how they recognized you.” He paused as the words settled, then again assumed the demeanor of an acting scholar. “Though it is unknown when, where, and how the magic of the Akhael and the power of the Destroyer came into being, what is known is that in time, the Akhael had come to understand that to preserve their own lives, they would need to know who held the power to destroy them. Ancient stories tell of a ritual that was undertaken to mark those bearing the Destroyer, and do so in a way that could not be easily hidden, so that they would remain visible, and easily recognized. Mark them so that the Akhael would know them on sight. And thus, your highnesses,” he looked from Kherin to Adrien and back, “came the color of the hair.”
Derek was frowning when Kherin looked at him, though Adrien’s expression held the same sentiment Kherin felt.
“But hair can be dyed…,” Kherin began, shaking his head again as he looked to the trader for confirmation of both his and the scholar’s words.
“Which is only temporary, and rarely done so well as to keep the true shade masked for long,” Derek said instead, his gaze trailing up to the hair he so often slipped his fingers into. “Especially when the natural color is as dark as yours. And even then it would be a valid defense only if it is known that dying is necessary for protection against the eyes of the Akhael, which”—he turned back to Dar—“few in this day remember even existed.”
The look of joy and pride that filled the old man’s face told of the scholar he had once been. “I see that little makes it past the royal trader’s ears unheard.”
Derek accepted the compliment with only a quiet smile, but the root of what they were saying still filled Kherin with disbelief.
“But we’re not the only ones in Llarien with hair this color. Our mother had hair this color…,” he said pointedly, drawing the scholar’s eyes back to him.
“Which means only that she too possessed the Destroyer in her blood,” Dar told him simply, including Adrien in the sadness of the smile born from his own memories of the queen. “Although through the grace of the Gods she never met the ones that would seek her death.”
Because though the entire kingdom had been aware when the queen had died, her death had been from illness rather than magic.
“Those from the north have been crossing our borders long before now,” Dar went on solemnly, “and among them were those who possessed the Destroyer, even if the knowledge of it has faded with the memory of the Akhael themselves. It is only by the accident of your mother falling in love with the king of this kingdom that the Destroyer entered the royal line.”
“So how does the Destroyer stop the magic?” Kherin asked suddenly, uncomfortably aware of his lack of feeling at the mention of his mother and determined to get past it, though he could feel the gazes of Adrien and Derek and even Jarak nonetheless. Dar, however, took the abruptness of the question in stride, that ability alone being a testament to his training in dealing with students.
“I believe the question you want to ask, your highness, is how do you use the Destroyer to end the threat of the Akhael? And the answer to that is simple. The Destroyer is now present in your blood, and so your blood is all that is needed.”
“But how?”
“I believe he answered that,” Derek said carefully, regarding the scholar closely. “You mean use his blood, literally.”
Dar laughed again, and with a gleefulness that would have suggested he was addled had it not been for the twinkle in his eyes. “I’d wager you didn’t know that the blade that cut you”—his gaze slipped to Adrien—“was wielded by a northern tribesman and destroyed following the battle in which the cut was made. And that’s because the Destroyer in your blood would have completed its task had it come into contact with the one leading the Akhael.” He then took them both in with his ancient and knowing gaze. “A singe drop of the untainted blood of the Destroyer would show you the true nature that has earned it its name.”
“Then why didn’t the northerner who had used the blade on Adrien use it himself on the Akhael?” Kherin demanded bluntly.
“Most likely because he didn’t know,” Derek put in, receiving sharp looks from both Kherin and Adrien, but an approving nod from Dar and a confirming one from Jarak. “He was likely simply following orders, with no knowledge of the power he truly held in his hand.”
“But now you have the knowledge of the power you hold, your highnesses, and so you also know what you must do to stop the magic from returning to this land,” Dar finished, the gleam that brightened his eye returning.
But Kherin shook his head as the disbelief he felt wouldn’t let go. “So all I have to do is just get blood on the leader of the Akhael…?”
“Too simple, your highness?” Dar laughed as Kherin flushed, but his next words were as serious as they were amused. “Ah yes, merely touching a single drop of blood to the Akhael is what you would consider simple, but tell me….” He met Kherin’s gaze evenly with his own. “Would you have ever thought to do it?”
No, he wouldn’t have, and neither would Adrien or anyone else in the kingdom, regardless of whether they unknowingly carried the power of the Destroyer. Not when the magic of the Akhael wasn’t the only knowledge that was lost over time.
But the question of how to do it was still unspoken, and as he turned to Derek to voice the question again, he saw the trader as Derek turned to Jarak—
And he saw the blacksmith’s nod as whatever Derek had silently asked was answered.
“Blood on the head of an arrow,” the blacksmith confirmed in understanding.
“Ah, that would work nicely indeed,” Dar answered approvingly, then he looked at Kherin and Adrien in turn as his eyes again turned serious and the warning written in them grew. “But don’t wait too long, your highnesses. The Akhael are weak, but their strength will grow over time, and as their strength grows, so does their chance for success. Your success, however,” he said, his eyes warming, “would mean more than the protection of the kingdom.”
Kherin saw the hope in the steady, glittering gaze, and unexpected warmth bloomed in his gut as Dar finished.
“It could mean the salvation for two peoples, your highnesses. People who perhaps were never meant to be enemies at all.”
“JARAK,” Kherin said evenly, measuring his steps at they drew closer to the camp. “He’s the best archer we have in this camp, and probably one of the best in Delfore.” He squinted against the winter chill, but if there was anything to see amid the open and noisy taverns leading to the Defender camp, he was missing it.
“He would be a wise choice,” Derek said quietly at his side, though there was a question in his voice even if Kherin didn’t look to see it in his eyes. “You seem less certain of the use of arrows at all now that you are not facing the scholar.”
Kherin snorted softly as he shook his head, but he couldn’t deny the measure of truth in the trader’s words. It was too easy to get caught up in the fantastic threads of a story while the tale was being told; the bards who had made their coin at the taverns ages ago had counted on that fact. But true bards were another people long gone from Llarien, and those hired by the taverns now were required to do little more than provide entertainment for a bunch of drunken patrons who couldn’t care less if the words were true. Derek laughed softly as he said those words aloud, but didn’t argue against them, and kept his steps with Kherin’s even when the cobbled streets gave way to the frozen ground of the camp.
“If it wasn’t for what happened on the north bank, I might be tempted to call it all an elaborate fairytale,” Kherin muttered, his gaze falling to the Defenders who were visible between the structures of the camp. The central campfire was lit, but its light wasn’t needed just yet. “It’s the only thing that doesn’t seem to have a logical explanation out there somewhere. Even Adrien’s seizures could be called a reaction to something on the blade, or Willum’s potions, or….” He let his words trail away, and he resisted the urge to look for his brother among the men scattered throughout the camp. Jarak would be in the camp as well, though Kherin hadn’t seen him since they parted ways at the door of the Harper’s Den.
Dar had also refused their offers of providing escort into the city, apparently content to enjoy the warmth of the inn and the clean sheets on the bed after so many months of sleeping in an alley.
Derek, however, had joined both princes at a nearby inn for food, and had accompanied them back to the hospice for the leather armor required for their duties. And he had stayed with Kherin even after Adrien had left to report to the camp, while the elder prince’s silence from the inn had continued throughout it all.
Kherin hadn’t noticed how truly subdued his brother had been until after they had left Dar at the Harper’s Den, though Adrien had merely brushed his silence off as seeing his intervention as being unnecessary. Kherin, however, couldn’t help suspecting that the argument he and his brother had had the night before was behind his brother’s reticence, though whether it could be attributed to guilt or the merit of Kherin’s arguments, not even Derek had ventured to guess.
“But even assuming Jarak could hit the Akhael leader, we still have to find him to fire an arrow into him,” Kherin went on, moving as he continued to sweep his gaze over the activity of the camp. “They haven’t been seen since the night they….” He waved his hand carelessly to indicate the direction of the camp, and the far banks on the other side of it, but there was no need to finish his thought.
The northerners hadn’t been seen since they had tried to kill Kherin with arrows of their own.
“It doesn’t mean they aren’t there, my prince,” Derek answered him, calming and cautioning at the same time. “They are far better at remaining unseen than we are. And perhaps they need to regroup the same as any army that has faced defeat during war.”
“I wouldn’t call it a war,” Kherin muttered, but the rest of it made sense. And then his blood froze with his steps as realization of just how much sense it made sank in. He turned his head sharply to the trader, drawing Derek’s eyes to meet his own. “Derek, if their magic needs blood in order for them to regroup, then the northerners they have enslaved….” He couldn’t finish the thought, but he saw the agreement in the darkness of the trader’s eyes. “They’re sacrificing the northerners to strengthen their magic.”
Derek’s answer was low and cold, but held a great deal of resignation as well. “That would be my guess.”
Kherin scowled as the trader started them moving again. “Gods, Derek! There’s a difference between killing a man in battle and… and murder!”
“Yes, my prince, there is,” Derek returned quietly, and though Kherin didn’t see the gentle smile the trader gave him, he felt the hand that came to rest lightly on the small of his back. The northerners had been the enemy for longer than either of them had been alive, and that fact alone meant few were willing to acknowledge they were men—and women—as well as northerners. Kherin was one of the few who would, and Derek would as well, given everything he had ever known about the trader.
“We need to stop them,” Kherin went on, his voice low and angry. “I know Dar told us how, but we need to draw them out before they kill every northerner they hold. But Gods, other than crawling through their tunnels ourselves, I don’t know how!”
“And entering their tunnels would be dangerous since we don’t know what lies inside them,” Derek said, and gave Kherin a soft smile, “and they do.”
Their steps slowed and then stopped as they reached the far side of the camp structures, and Kherin felt the eyes that turned toward them, though at least the lines he had seen the day before were absent. The separation was still evident, however, and it was the kingdom Defenders standing closest to the central fire who glared the hottest at the prince.
Kherin was therefore surprised when the one who had spoken the loudest and most often against him was the first among the group who turned away—though not before his glare had changed from him to Derek for a brief instant. Kherin turned to the trader as well, and barely caught the fact that Derek had also been watching the Defender, as the trader’s face was calm and slightly amused as he turned just in time to meet Kherin’s eyes.
“You’re required for your duty, my prince, and I should return to the inn to check on Dar before doing my own duty in the city,” he told Kherin quietly, and he made no move to hide his efforts as he raised his hand to brush the hair over the prince’s ear. “I will meet you at the hospice later, and see Willum satisfied that you haven’t injured yourself further.”
Kherin would have snorted at the mention of the healer’s ongoing treatments, but Derek leaned forward then, and his hand slipped down to cup Kherin’s cheek as he brought their lips together in a kiss that was far less chaste than it should have been given their surroundings. And though the kiss had been unexpected, Kherin responded by returning it with his own.
When Derek pulled back at last, it was only a gentle touch to the scar on his chin that the trader offered in parting….
Along with a final look to the Defender who Kherin had turned quickly enough to see had been watching them from his place by the fire. The Defender turned away first, and Kherin turned to catch the wink Derek gave him before the trader slipped away. And when his gaze went back to the Defender again, he saw that it was Derek the man watched now, though only for a moment. The Defender cast his glare back at him a moment before he shuffled his group from the central fire with a few soft but terse words.
Kherin watched it all in stunned silence, and turned back to the city once more before he settled on following the line of departing Defenders. He knew that nearly everyone in the kingdom knew who Derek was, and most recognized him on sight even if they had never seen him more than in passing. But what he had seen here was something more than simple recognition.
He threw one final glance over his shoulder toward the city and wondered exactly when Derek had become more intimidating than either of the princes of the royal house.
“BLAME it on reputation, my prince,” Derek laughed easily, handing Kherin a mug of the spiced wine he had ordered from the inn’s kitchen when they had returned from the hospice. “It is well known that I hold a position of favor with your father, and it also known that I gather rumors as well as official tidings in each city that I visit. And the rumors that grow from wondering what it is I learned from the rumors already told in the cities….” He shrugged as he sipped from his own mug, but the amusement didn’t leave his eyes.
“You’re saying they’re worried that you’ve learned something about them that they don’t want making its way back to my father?” Kherin’s tone was slightly surprised, but the truth of his words seemed unquestionable once he said them aloud. Especially since he had seen for himself how the overt displays of hostility from the Defenders had lessened now that Derek had kissed him so blatantly in front of them. The talk and dark looks may not have ceased completely, but at least none of the Defenders from Delfore had been needed to quell any thoughts of violence either.
“I believe it’s more the uncertainty of what I know of them in general that worries them, rather than the knowledge of any specific deed done on their part,” Derek answered teasingly, urging Kherin toward the bed. “But it can be effective nonetheless, and it’s something that can work to my advantage from time to time, even if I generally know less than what is typically believed.”
“If the enemy thinks they have you fooled, it is usually best to ensure they keep that belief intact.”
Those words came back to Kherin as he lowered himself to the bed, and then he pulled his legs up to sit comfortably as Derek rounded the other side to sit behind him. He would be hesitant to call even the most vulgar of his accusers the enemy, but there was no question the overall sentiment still rang true. If Derek had fooled them into believing he knew their secrets….
He couldn’t stop his amused laugh as he suddenly grasped the less-than-honest tactic the trader used, and his smile was still present as he turned to stretch his legs fully on the bed. He adjusted the pillows behind his back before reclining into them, and then turned his smile on the trader as Derek leaned close enough to rest one arm over the prince’s legs.
“So do you have something on them that they’re worried will get out?” Kherin asked as he finished settling, and he heard Derek’s amused laugh as clearly as he saw it as the trader stroked his thigh.
“Nothing of interest, my prince, and nothing to waste the king’s time or yours in telling.”
“But you still had to have learned something about them to make them worried,” Kherin persisted, suddenly more curious than usual about how Derek came by his information. He had seen a little of it in Dar’s room earlier; even with pushing what he had seen between the trader and scholar aside, the trader had been in the city for only a day and yet knew as much about the last week as Kherin did, including the names of the Defenders who had been the most vocal in their anger at his freeing the northerner. Kherin himself hadn’t named any of the Defenders from the Silver Fish.
“It wasn’t as difficult as you think, my prince,” Derek answered with a wink when Kherin said his curious wonderings aloud, and his smile remained in place as he leaned lower across the prince’s legs. “When I didn’t find you at the hospice when I returned to the city, I simply went to the camp and found Jarak instead. It was your acting Leader who told me what you have been doing in the days since I left Gravlorn, just as he told me as well the names of the ones most likely to cause any trouble that resulted from your actions.”
He paused to push himself up and pull the mug from Kherin’s hand, and he placed it with his own on the bedside table before swinging his own legs up to stretch out on the bed, and he pulled Kherin with him as he rested them more completely on the pillows. “Jarak was also who told me of the confrontation at the Silver Fish, while the tavern keeper himself confirmed the names of those most offended by your actions. And the whole of it was nothing more sinister than simply approaching them and asking.”
Derek was still laughing, though not openly, but Kherin was surprised to learn that Derek had been in the city that long before he had found the trader at the hospice. Long enough to go to the Silver Fish as well as the camp….
“You went to the tavern?” Kherin asked, repeating the one thought that settled among the rest. It had apparently been popular with the kingdom Defenders long before Kherin had made his first and only visit there, but whether it still was, and whether those who visited still talked despite the confrontation that took place there, he didn’t know.
“For only a few moments, and only to ensure that no other trouble was brewing that had yet to make itself known.” Derek’s eyes were both calm and teasing as he stroked a slow line from Kherin’s thigh to his hip, though it was the teasing in them that deepened as his lips curled a little higher. “And though I didn’t speak to the servers during the visit, I believe I remember seeing the one who has become your erstwhile admirer.”
Oh Gods. The mention of Elli brought a groan to his lips, and he couldn’t help but be thankful that the unexpected boon of sleeping at the Harper’s Den was that it had spared him from any further visits from the girl. But he had only gotten out his first words of the denial that he had encouraged her before they were lost in the chuckle Derek gave him, and his words slipped away completely as his lips were covered in a kiss. All thoughts of the serving girl vanished completely as Kherin found himself pressing into the trader even without the urging of the arms that slipped around him.
Derek’s lips eased enough to nibble as he spoke quietly of letting the matter rest for the night, adding that tomorrow would be soon enough to speak to Jarak and Adrien about how they were to make the northerners show themselves, but Kherin was no longer listening. He had found the skin under the collar of the dark shirt Derek wore, and he smoothed the skin of Derek’s throat as he slid his hand over his shoulders to reach the tail at Derek’s neck. He shivered as Derek slipped his hands under the hem of his own shirt, and the kisses and strokes continued for long moments before they separated only long enough to undress.
Awareness of anything but the trader crawling back into bed next to him vanished under the arousal heating Kherin’s blood as he touched skin again. When Kherin had the trader against him, he used his own weight to press him down and his own momentum to slide up to lie on top of him. His legs fell to either side of the trader’s hips as he rose up to straddle him, and he pulled the tail over the trader’s shoulder and then smoothed the skin of the trader’s chest. Derek’s hands had come to rest on the prince’s thighs as Kherin rolled his hips against him, and the slide of Kherin’s balls against the length of his cock teased them both as Kherin rolled his hips again.
The simmering lust in Derek’s eyes turn darker as Kherin moved a third time. The still incredible realization that Derek was here, willingly sharing his bed and his body—and willingly accepting Kherin’s offer of his—pushed Kherin into moving faster, and the heavy caress of the trader’s chest brought his nipples to sensitive peaks as Derek rolled up to meet him.
But Kherin wanted for something much more than this.
He lowered his head to meet the smoldering gaze below him, and heard the hiss of the trader’s breath as he reached for the salve that sat on the bedside table where they had left it. Their bodies slowed as he dipped his fingers into the thick and oily paste….
And once his fingers glistened with the wetness, and once he had replaced the tin on the table, he raised himself higher and felt the heat in Derek’s eyes turn scorching as he prepared himself to take the trader’s cock.
KHERIN bolted up as the thumping on the door yanked him from sleep, but the firm touch of the trader’s hand on his stomach stopped him from gaining his feet. The thumping went on. Derek pushed himself up beside him.
The room was dark, and Derek’s hand vanished long enough to light the candle on the table before he met Kherin’s eyes without speaking, and he offered only another calming touch before he pushed himself up. Two pairs of sleeping pants were pulled from his bag, and he tossed one to Kherin as he pulled the other over his hips. They did little to hide anything, but they would have to do, as the banging on the door grew louder nearly before they were dressed.
Kherin waited by the bed as Derek moved to the door, and Derek swung it open to find a Defender already raising his arm to bang on the door again. Kherin recognized him as Jori, a Defender from Delfore and one of the first he had seen in this city. Jori’s gaze moved hurriedly from one to the other and back before they settled on Kherin.
“My lord, you are needed in camp,” he said bluntly, foregoing any type of salute as he addressed the second prince.
Kherin’s eyes shot to Derek as the thought of northerners filled his mind, but went instantly back to Jori as his next words proved far more chilling.
“Guards from Delfore have arrived, and they demand your presence immediately.”