Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

W hile the stands emptied with families who were heading toward the evening part of the festivities, there was a moment of hesitation in the arena. The air prickled with unease as the Damaryan finally jerked his gaze free from where it had roamed into the void.

"Very nice," Cosmo chuckled, pulling on the boy's shoulder so he'd break the line. He did, briefly stumbling forward and into Cosmo's chest, before he corrected his stance with reddening cheeks. "Don't you think, Lyssipos ?"

Astor nodded, feeling Illias's anger pounding at his spine. "I do." Looking up to the commenter, he raised his voice. "We have concluded the Nomos Doulos." To the boy, he jutted his chin. "What's your name?"

The Damaryan just glared in return, making Cosmo bark out a laugh.

"Oh, he's going to ignore us. This is going to be fun."

"Sisto." Oreon barked. He too, broke the line, his neutral gaze only slightly showing the disapproval he clearly felt. "Let's finish this in a decent manner. The board wishes to move on to the celebrations."

Astor nodded. Oreon was right, per usual. They needed to get back to their quarters and get freshened up. It was custom to show their faces during tonight's celebrations, as it would be the final time they'd see their families for a few months at least. "D'acc." Turning around, he nodded at Illias, who was still ignoring him. His flushed cheeks and the rage in those green, molten glare gave him away though.

Beautiful.

"We're leaving then. Say bye bye to your friend, you'll have him back in two days."

Novarians chuckled, but Astor's eyes flashed when he caught sight of the stalling Gaetans. "What are you waiting for?" He snarled. "Go back. This is not your business."

One of them, a boy he'd not seen before, bristled and took a step forward, clearly looking for a challenge.

"Oh, really? You want to fight?" Cosmo growled, and he slid aside his cape, revealing his sheathed, silvery sword. As the eldest son of the lieutenant of the Novarian army, Astor and he had practically grown up, side by side, in the army's arena. He knew what his best friend was capable of, and that was more than an infuriatingly sharp tongue. Cosmo had the strength to back it up with actual fighting skills and had a reputation back home. A reputation he had guaranteed here at the Academy last year, in the illegal fighting pit.

The Gaetan hesitated, eyes flicking between the three of them. Tipping up his chin, he sneered, "I can see the way you look at us."

Cosmo let out an amused huff. "Oh, yeah? And how's that?" His fingers crawled down to his sheath, slowly enough for the others to see.

The Gaetan snorted. "Oh, please, like you wouldn't know. You hate us."

This time, Cosmo pivoted his entire frame toward the Gaetans, who crept up behind their hero. "That's right," he growled, voice lowered to a barely-whisper. "We hate every little thing about you." The Gaetan took a step forward and Cosmo followed suit, closing the gap between them dramatically and rapidly. "You took from us. And we don't like people who take without asking nicely." He jabbed his finger against the Gaetan's chest.

"Novitiates." The herald exclaimed as he approached, his long, sad face drawn into condemnation. "You are to retreat back to your quarters immediately."

Astor captured Cosmo's shoulder and pulled him back. "He's right, Lyssipos. Come. We can all use a bath. "

They turned around, to find the other three Damaryans had left.

During the heat of the moment, when the truth had peaked out between the invisible layer of illusion that the future could erase sorrow from the past, they had quietly taken off.

And left the unfortunate boy here, alone, with them.

"Melas." Astor crooked his finger to where his slave had been waiting in perfect obedience. "I'm leaving," he told Oreon. "I need a decent wash. Keep an eye on Cosmo and his claimed one. We need the boy back in one piece, remember."

"Certainly," Oreon jutted his chin toward where the Akotans had stood before. "Clara wishes to meet with us," he said. "She proposed tonight, but perhaps it's too early?"

Astor looked at Cosmo, who had slung an arm around the boy's tense shoulders and guided him toward the exit, followed narrowly by his two female slaves.

"No, tonight's perfect. We'll meet in his room."

Oreon's lips twitched, and a knowing look appeared in his eyes as he touched his temples with his fingertips. "D'acc."

A stor caught up with Cosmo on their way back to their wing. To his credit, the Damaryan walked with his head held high as they made their way toward the Novarian wing. Passing the inner gardens of the estate that looked pristine in their glory of blooming flowers and lush plants, the other novitiates didn't hide their curiosity as they threw glances at them.

They brought the Damaryan inside their quarters, onto the terracotta tiled flooring of their shared terrace with its spectacular view of the innerer courtyard and the library.

"I want to know what it's like to come from a country of traitors," one of the first-years said.

"The battle of Ravenna killed my father and brothers," another novitiate snarled.

"Look at him just standing there." Scilla, Oreon's older sister, pushed the Damaryan in his back, and the boy leaped forward with a gasp. "Really? You're just going to stand there and not say anything?" She threw up her hands in the air.

"Scilla—" Oreon warned.

"Don't worry, he will make some noise soon enough, won't you, Tydon ?" Cosmo purred, laughing when the Damaryan bristled.

"One piece," Astor warned. "That's what you promised me. Alright." He clapped in his hands. "Everyone, get freshened up. We'll have the Akotan delegation coming over tonight. In your room," he added, wiggling his brows at his friend, who rolled his eyes in return. He took a few steps toward his own rooms, then stopped and turned over his shoulder. "Oh, and, whatever you name is—" The Damaryan's eyes flickered when he looked up to meet his, but otherwise stayed quiet. Astor gave him an amused grin. "You don't want to talk? Suit yourself. But a friendly warning. My friend here has quite the reputation."

T o his surprise, Fabiano was already waiting in his rooms. His brother sat in one of his chaise longue in another pristine white robe. A glass of wine dangled from his hand.

"Frater. You did well today," he said in his warm, hypnotic voice. "Iteres Novares."

"Thank you," replied Astor, and he tipped his temples in gratitude. "How are you feeling?"

"Good," his brother lied, a flawless smile on his lips. "I'm just a little tired. It was a long day."

Astor nodded, feeling himself only half guilty for not being able to have spent more time with Fabiano.

"I hope you don't mind me having asked your slave to get me some refreshments?" Fabiano looked over the rim of his cup as he took another drink. In the corner, Melas stood, his enticing garment gushed over his delicate body, the material only slightly disarrayed. He wondered when the slave had left his shadow. He tipped his head toward the bathroom.

"Bath, please, Melas."

"Dominus." The boy rushed away.

Astor turned to Fabiano. "Of course not. Do you need anything else? Anyone?"

Anything . He'd give his brother anything.

Anyone . He'd bring his brother anyone. The thought left him feeling guilty that he hadn't considered asking Fabiano if he had wanted to receive the Nomos Doulos. He would be his brother's saviour, just like he would be his country's. Wanted to be what was good in this world.

"I'm fine, Lyssipos. " Fabiano sounded tired. Astor watched him walk toward his own bedroom, then carefully shut the door.

" D'acc ," he whispered against the silence. " D'acc ."

For the second time today he found himself in the luxurious bathroom, only this time he had more time to enjoy the view. Aside from Melas, who was bent forward as he checked the temperature of the running tap, Astor enjoyed the way that they had added the mirrors during the summer break. Just as he had requested, they covered the four walls, making the bathing space look even more spacious. On each corner of the tub stood beautifully curved bottles with oil and flowers. A soft melody played from outside the rooms, most likely meant to bring some relaxing entertainment to all novitiates, a hum of strings that smoothly braided into the lingering silence. Dipping into the bath, Astor sat down, then leaned further backwards until his head hit the mirror at the wall, sank all the way into the hot bath until it was only his throat and face that was exposed to the cool bathroom air. His straining muscles started to relax as time passed. He closed his eyes drift and inhaled his favourite scent of mint, honey and citrus, the basic ingredients for his beloved eucalyptus. Let his mind drift off to today's events. Of arriving at the Academy and being reunited with fellow Novarians. Of Gaetan's presence. Of the games and its outcome.

Of the unexpected arrival of Damaryan.

His stomach fluttered.

Astor thought of their peculiar clothes that made them look like ancient warriors who appeared in tales that were written in books. Of those honey-curled locks and green, green eyes. They were an attractive people, there was no denying that. But that one boy stood out… Illias Mothvora. He felt his cock twitch at the thought of pride. Of anger. Of beauty.

"Melas." The boy slid down to his knees and placed his head on the rim of the bath. Astor petted his hair, brushing the strands with his fingers as he let his mind roam. "Hide and seek, my beautiful slave. Can you do a background check for me?"

"Yes, Dominus," the boy answered without hesitation.

"Good. Good. Now, help me get dressed. House Akotan will soon be here."

He chose to wear traditional Novarian clothes for the meeting. Identical to what Comso had worn in the arena before, Astor dressed himself in short pants and a blood-red cape. His chest and abs got drenched in special oil that made his skin shimmer.

In their communal area, his brother's two slaves were waiting, their backs plastered against the wall, in full position despite their Dominus being absent.

"Let my brother rest," Astor ordered.

They tipped their heads in reply, and he left them there as he and Melas took off to Cosmo's room.

The corridor was still quiet, with no sign of any visitors yet. His friend's female slaves let him inside the dimly lit room in silence, where he was guided toward a comfortable chaise longue. The room smelled of lavender and rosemary—the remainders of a steaming bath.

He was served water and wine in the sweet, dim light.

"A gift from the Hortator family," spoke his friend. Cosmo was sprawled onto his bed, wearing nothing but his short pants. In his right hand, he carried a similar cup to that of Astor, his right hand leaned onto a naked hip. When their eyes met, he tipped his cup and took a drink.

"There is no such thing as a gift," Astor replied.

"True." Cosmo squeezed the naked flesh he held in his grip and smiled when the boy let out a guttural, muffled moan.

"You gagged him?"

"I did." Cosmo slowly caressed the boy's flesh. "The Hortators want their daughter to graduate safely."

Martha Hortator was the only fourth year student Novar had and the only child of the largest wine producing family in Oniarteto. Right now, wine in Oniarteto was exclusively made in Novar, because some of the parties of their vast county had the typical hot summers and cool waters the alcoholic refreshment needed. Therefore, the Hortator family was a powerful one, their daughter a pawn in the game of politics. She'd be granted a diplomatic position once she'd graduate from the Academy.

Astor sucked in his bottom lip as he considered those words. On the bed, Cosmo leaned in and dribbled some of his wine onto Basil's hip, then bent forward and slurped the drink from his body. The Damaryan grunted, rocking his hips forcefully in an attempt to escape, revealing the silver cuffs that were tightly closed around his wrists. Cosmo chuckled as he came back up, dipping his finger through his spit. "That's right. Fight me, little Tydon, " he murmured.

"Martha has made a few enemies last year," Astor thought out loud. "And from what her guards told us, she already made a few the year before."

"That's right. She doesn't have many friends, but we still need to get her to graduate in June."

"How are we going to do that?" Astor held out his empty glass and watched as Cosmo toyed with the plug that was snugly viced between the Damaryan's ass cheeks, circling it, pulling it, softly chuckling as the Damaryan mewled against the gag. Melas surged forward and refilled his drink.

"We need to create clear rules within House Novar," Astor decided. "The number of students is growing rapidly, which means we need to stay on top of our game."

Cosmo agreed by tilting his cup.

"We'll let Akotan talk, see what they want. Then we'll hold our own meeting."

"The rules we make are within the walls of this wing, regardless of what the Akotans want," Astor put his cup down and sagged a little deeper into the soft cushions of the chair. He wouldn't allow himself too much softness out of fear he'd fall asleep. But just a few minutes—before the meeting would start. "We need to prepare our new novitiates for the evenings here."

Cosmo nodded. "Agreed. It's up to us to guide our fellow Novarians through this snake pit."

"It's the nights they should fear. That's when the real threats make their slithering appearance. I won't let anything happen to them."

"Ahh, you hear that?" Cosmo leaned over the Damaryan, blanketing the trembling, naked body. "My best friend's such a gentleman. Protecting fellow citizens, giving me the right to claim…" Astor heard the poor boy wheeze through his gag, heard how his best friend muttered soft words, followed by the wet sounds of kisses.

Moans, filthy and long, muffled yet clear, came from the bed. Where the fuck was Oreon when he needed him?

"Dominus?" The sound breathed close to his ear as Melas whispered. "I apologize for the disturbance, but there's someone at the main entrance who demands to speak with you."

Astor flicked his hand, irritated. "Send them through. You know we're expecting House Akotan."

"It's not House Akotan, Dominus."

Astor looked up and stared into his slave's hesitant, green stare. Immediately, Melas dropped his gaze, shuffling uncomfortably on his feet. "It's someone from House Damayar."