Chapter 15

Zo had never metthe man in front of him, that he could recall, but that wasn't too surprising. Plenty of people had once known him by sight whom he had never noticed or known by name himself. To tell the truth, he'd lived the last five years always expecting this moment to come and being pleasantly surprised when it didn't.

"I go by Zo these days," he said, smiling. He'd always wondered what he would say, and that was what it turned out to be.

"But you are Zoharaza," the governor pursued, "aren't you? The son of King Chahaz of Satasparsa? You were at the court of the King of Zash in Rataxa, ten years ago, as a hostage. I used to see you at the royal audiences."

"Ah, did you? What a coincidence."

He couldn't look at Hylas. How could he, after concealing something like this from him? What excuse could he give? He couldn't expect Hylas to accept the truth.

"So you are Prince Zoharaza." The governor was not going to let this go, damn his eyes.

"Yes."

"Blessed Orante! I thought I might be going mad for an instant there." He laughed heartily.

"Not at all, sir," said Zo smoothly. He gestured to the divan beside him. "Will you join me?"

The governor sat, and Hylas, whose eyes Zo still could not meet, sat beside him.

"Ought you to call me ‘sir'?" Loukianos wondered. "You wouldn't have, ten years ago—and I would have called you … what would I have called you? You're a prince, but not one of the royal sons of Zash … Did you have a title at the court?"

"‘Your Grace,' as a courtesy in formal settings. But you were a foreigner, and probably of high rank yourself?"

"Mm, not at the time, no, I was just the son of an engineer in the colonial legions. Got to stay at the court for a while because of some family connections. What a place it was!"

"Indeed, sir."

"But how did you end up here?"

"I was shipwrecked near Tykanos five years ago."

"Blessed Orante! The stuff of romantic fiction. So you left the court five years ago," said Loukianos thoughtfully. "Let me see, who can I ask about?"

There was much conversation to be had along those lines, while the governor reminisced about his time in Zash, asking Zo if he remembered such-and-such, whether he'd ever known so-and-so and what had become of him, recalling lurid court plots that he had known of, food that he had eaten, and gardens that he had visited. It was certainly true, as Hylas had said, that they had a lot to talk about.

Hylas himself remained silent, but he did not leave. He lit a stick of incense for himself and one for the governor, and he returned to sit with Loukianos and Zo, cradling his wine cup and listening to them talk. In the crowded sitting room, it was not rude; the governor and Zo were not having a private conversation. And Loukianos would include him every so often, turning to Hylas to say, "Isn't that remarkable?" or "That's what it's really like, you know."

So it was official. Prince Zoharaza, dead five years ago by his own hand, was back in the world.

"What a delight to get to talk about Rataxa with someone who was there," Loukianos said as he was taking his leave. "I'm so glad Hylas convinced me to come tonight. Shall we?" He turned to Hylas, and then recollected himself. "Ah, I forgot, you live here! You won't be coming with me. Well, I'll bid you both good night, then." And he bowed, Zashian-style, the appropriate degree for someone of Zo's rank.

Zo got up from the divan, staggering in his haste. He knew that the moment Loukianos was gone, the few remaining regular guests and the other companions would descend on him, full of questions and amazement. He wouldn't even blame them. But he didn't want to face it.

Hylas would not ask questions. He would probably melt away while the others crowded around.

"Are you all right?" Loukianos asked, looking back at Zo.

"I'm fine—sitting too long, that is all."

"You're too young to have stiff knees," said the governor jovially.

"Nevertheless. And I'm off to bed."

Loukianos laughed. "Too young for that, too."

They walked out onto the gallery together, and Loukianos did not offer Zo his arm because Zo did his best not to look like he needed it. On the gallery they parted ways, and Zo waited until the governor was halfway down the outer stairs and not looking in his direction before he took hold of the railing to steady himself as he walked around to the back stairs.

The back stairs were in total darkness. There was a window in the stairwell which would have let in some moonlight, but it had shutters which someone had closed, and Zo couldn't even make out the outline of where it was. There was no way he could descend the stairs without a light.

He wanted to be in his bed, in his room with his door locked. He didn't want to walk all the way back along the gallery and meet someone else coming out of the sitting room to say, "Zo, are you really Prince Whatever like that man said?"

He sat down on the top step of the back stairs and put his head in his hands. Presently, a flicker out of the corner of his eye told him that someone was coming down the gallery with a light. Zo looked up wearily. It was Hylas.

He came to the head of the stairs and stopped.

"May I join you?" he said.

"What, here?"

"It's where you are."

"Of course." Zo shrugged.

Hylas set down the candle he was carrying and sat, not on the top step beside Zo but lower down. At Zo's feet.

He looked up at Zo, and the candlelight shone on his faded red hair and sparkled in his pale eyes. His smile was as warm as the flame's light.

"Of course you're a prince," he said, his voice low. "I feel as if I should have known."

"I should have told you."

"You could of course have told me at any time. I would have done with the knowledge only what you wanted. I hope you're not sorry for me to know now."

"No. No. But you shouldn't have found out that way. I didn't tell you because it doesn't matter. It's not an important thing."

Hylas nodded. "Of course it doesn't matter. I understand that. Except …" He looked up at Zo, and there was something in his eyes, a tense kind of joy. "Could we let it matter, a little?"

"How? What do you mean?" There was something new here, something thrilling. He couldn't say what it was.

"I could almost believe that this is what I was made a commoner for. I should not say that—the suffering my family went through because of me, I can never forget that. But it is in the past, and I have paid for it. Zo, will you let me serve you?"

"Will I … Hylas, you do, actually. All these things you've done for me …"

"I know. Will you let me keep serving you? And maybe …" He put out a hand toward Zo's hand and very gently, tentatively, laced their fingers together. "In new ways?"

Zo gasped and squeezed Hylas's hand tight. "Holy God, yes. Hylas, I thought you would never ask."

Hylas hadn't thought beyond that moment. He certainly wasn't prepared to act, now, on what he'd just proposed, but he realized that it was expected of him. Well, of course it was.

As he'd sat and listened to Zo and Loukianos talk, the absurd thought that kept rattling around in his head was: He's a prince. I should give him what he wants.

It was absurd because whatever Zo was a prince of, it had never mattered to Hylas, even in his former life. It certainly didn't matter here, far from Zo's homeland, and it changed nothing between them. And it was absurd because he knew—he thought he knew—what Zo wanted. He wanted their friendship to expand beyond tea and buns and their shared garden; he wanted something from Hylas that Hylas could easily, joyfully give. Of course he should have it.

"Then would you like me to give you a kiss?" he whispered.

"I would, very much."

Hylas nodded. He reached up to touch Zo's face with the tips of his fingers, as if he needed to do this to guide himself to Zo's lips. He was shocked by how intimate it felt. He moved the edge of his thumb over Zo's cheek.

"I may not be very good at this," he warned, and before Zo could say something comforting in reply, he knelt up to bring his lips to Zo's and brushed them across, a little parted.

His body felt alight with the thrill of that contact. He did it again, softening his mouth against Zo's. Zo received his kisses like a pool filling with water, effortlessly welcoming.

Eventually Hylas drew back, knowing that by some miracle, even though he had dared so little, he had done well. He could see that in the way Zo was looking at him.

Still he was not quite prepared for Zo to slide down off the top step into his lap. Hylas stiffened with surprise, Zo's whole soft, warm body suddenly in his arms. Reflexively, Hylas hugged him to his chest. Zo gripped his shoulders and shook with laughter, surprised in his turn.

"I was just going to kiss you again," Zo said.

"Sorry." Hylas let go of him.

"No." Zo snuggled against him. "This is good too. This is … I've wanted this from you too."

Hylas tightened his embrace again, and Zo tucked his head down against Hylas's shoulder. They stayed like that until Zo moved against Hylas, reaching up to kiss him. This kiss was luscious and melting, Zo's tongue slipping into Hylas's mouth.

Zo drew back just enough to look into Hylas's eyes. His beautiful eyebrows rose in a question.

"Yes," Hylas replied. And it was touching to be checked on like this, a man of his age, but he couldn't help making light of it too. "I can take it, Your Grace."

Zo wrinkled his nose, and then he was kissing Hylas again, deep, mastering kisses. They panted against each other's mouths. Hylas, unthinking, found himself cupping his hands under Zo's rear to lift him up for a better angle. He almost let go in shock when he realized what he'd done, but the way Zo reacted, twining his arms around Hylas's neck and kissing him forcefully, made it impossible to feel he had made a mistake.

Snatches of moralizing he had heard in his youth jostled in his mind: Men who would let themselves be penetrated like a fortress falling to the enemy … Always be like the sword, not like the scabbard … It was just kissing, but it felt like that, exactly like that, and he loved it.

A door opened somewhere, and there were voices down the gallery. Zo jerked back, and Hylas quickly caught him by the waist and set him back down on the step. Zo snatched up the candle Hylas had brought and shielded its light with his hand.

"Let's go downstairs," Zo whispered.

Hylas held out one hand to help Zo up and took the candle with the other so that Zo could gather up his robe to stand, and they made their way quietly down the stairs.

In the little anteroom outside their two doors, they paused.

"It's been a long day for you," said Hylas, "and I think you're tired. I wouldn't want to … add to that. Shall I see you in the morning?"

Zo sighed. "I am tired," he admitted. "I want you, but I'm tired. Sometimes I hate my body."

"Well … I don't. I don't know if that helps. May I come in and put you to bed, Your Grace?"

That made Zo laugh, as Hylas had hoped it would. He followed Zo into his room, lit the lamp for him, pulled back the curtain and took down his sleeping robe, then kissed him good night and left him sitting on the edge of his bed to go out through the garden door.

He was back in the morning, at the usual time. Their time, he thought—perhaps that made it fitting. He'd smiled and nodded when the kitchen staff asked him excitedly if he'd heard that their very own Zo was a prince.

He had hardly slept, his mind too busy processing the events of that evening, going over everything that had happened, everything that it meant. He felt fresh and alert, as if he'd slept long and deeply.

There was a bird singing in the garden, and the sun felt warm on Hylas's face, in spite of the chill in the air—the world replying in small, tentative ways to the joy and anticipation in his heart. He looked toward Zo's door just as it slid open.

"Good morning," said Zo.

"Good morning," said Hylas, "my prince."

Zo beamed. His hair was loose over his shoulder, tousled with sleep, his robe carelessly tied at the waist, his feet bare. He looked like a prince—he always had, in fact, and Hylas wondered why it had come as a surprise to anyone that that was what he was.

"Come in?" Zo gestured behind him.

Hylas nodded. He was suddenly seized with nerves; his hands on the tea tray shook, and the bowls rattled betrayingly. Zo's gaze on him was gentle.

They entered Zo's room, leaving the garden door open behind them. Sunlight spilled over Zo's rumpled bed. Hylas set the tray down on the table, but he did not sit, unsure what to do next, what was appropriate. Perhaps he should not have brought the tea and buns at all.

Zo was stooping over the table, catching up the trailing sleeve of his robe, in that enchanting way he had, in order to pick up the pot and pour tea into the two bowls, filling each less than halfway. He passed one to Hylas, straightening up and reaching across the table.

"Shall we sit and drink?" he said, lifting his own bowl and looking at Hylas through the steam.

Hylas sipped his tea, still standing. "I, uh … Do you want to?"

Zo sipped his tea. "Not really."

"Neither do I," said Hylas quickly. "I just brought the tea because …"

"Because you always bring me tea," Zo finished for him.

Hylas nodded. "And I am certainly not going to stop now."

Zo took another sip of his tea and set the bowl down on the table. He tugged at the tie holding his robe closed, and it slipped easily open. He wore nothing under it. The soft fabric of the robe slid back over his shoulders to his elbows. He stepped into the sunlight from the open door and smiled at Hylas.

Old instinct made Hylas tense and want to look away. He tightened his hands around the warm bowl of tea.

"I—I don't want you to get cold," he said absurdly.

"It's warm in the sun," said Zo, "and I am from the mountains of Eastern Zash. I can withstand the cold better than you might think."

The sunlight glowed all down the side of his bare skin, the swoop and angle of his neck and shoulder, his smooth bare chest, the supple juncture of hip and groin and round thigh. His manhood was full, pink-tinted, and thick with desire. Hylas's knees felt weak.

He set down the bowl of tea.

"What should I do?" he said, stepping into the sunlight. "You—you'll have to tell me, I'm afraid."

"I've been looking forward to it."

Zo held out a hand, and when Hylas took it, he drew him closer, tipping back his head to invite a kiss. Hylas kissed him carefully, forced by his height to be the tentative initiator.

"I love the way you do that," Zo murmured against Hylas's lips. He still held one of Hylas's hands, and now he lifted it and pressed it to his chest. "Touch me."

"I—I am, it seems."

He kissed Zo again, cupping Zo's face with his other hand, Zo's skin cool under his fingers. He ran his hand down Zo's chest to his soft belly, palmed the gentle angle of his hip, slipped in under the fabric of Zo's robe to cup the perfect curve of his rear. Zo's arms twined around his neck. They swayed together as they kissed again, each pulling the other in, and Zo made an undulating motion of his hips that rubbed the heat of his arousal against Hylas's, with only the fabric of Hylas's clothing between them.

Hylas gasped, clutching at Zo's delicate flesh. He felt himself almost on the verge of climax just from that little wriggle. That would not do. Zo would want more—deserved much more.

He was clasping a young man's naked body to himself, his desire blatant, and he was not ashamed. But this was Zo, his dear friend, his beloved, for whom he would do anything.

"Can I—can I carry you to the bed?" Hylas whispered, his throat dry.

"Mm. Please do."

He scooped Zo up, the way he had done the night before on the stairs, hands under his ass. Zo wrapped his legs around Hylas's waist, and it was easy to carry him the few steps to his bed. There Hylas had some idea of setting him down and then sinking to his knees on the floor in front of him, awaiting instructions. But Zo didn't let go of him, and they tumbled down onto the bed together.

"Ah! My prince, I?—"

"Something wrong?" Zo froze, suddenly attentive.

He was lying between Zo's naked thighs, chest-to-chest, Zo's arms around his shoulders, in the warm sunlight on Zo's rumpled bed.

"No," he admitted.

They kissed wildly, Zo's mouth wet and eager, Hylas's hands travelling over his body in long strokes. Now Zo was undoing Hylas's belt and pulling his tunic off over his head, somehow without quite breaking their embrace. He ran his fingertips through the hair on Hylas's chest as they kissed, smoothed his palm down Hylas's bare back.

Hylas rolled onto his side to catch his breath and steady himself. He could do this, he told himself; it was a thing that required no great skill, and Zo would be gracious about it, no matter what happened. The thought comforted him.

He snuggled close to Zo and reached his hand down between their bodies to touch Zo's manhood. It was hot and heavy and silk-smooth, and Zo gave a low moan when Hylas touched it. There—Hylas had known he would be gracious. He handled Zo's member gently, a much slower version of the motions he used on himself when he needed release. His wrist rubbed against his own arousal, trapped inside his undergarment.

He looked into Zo's face, seeking encouragement. Zo's eyes were heavy-lidded, his head thrown back on the pillow, lips a little parted. For a wild moment Hylas felt as if he should look away, as if he should not see his prince like this, so abandoned to pleasure.

He stroked slower, and Zo spread his thighs and moved his hips, pushing into Hylas's hand. He began to wriggle more urgently, and Hylas knew it meant he needed to speed up. He managed to hook his loincloth with his thumb and jerk the fabric out of the way—his other arm was trapped under Zo—and they were touching, heat to heat, and he caressed them both together. He could do this easily; he had big hands.

He had strong thighs, too, to hold him up as his moved over Zo, rocking against him, rubbing their bodies together while his hand moved between them, slick with their first emissions. Zo's hands slid down Hylas's back and over his rear, fingers spread. It was bliss; it was more than he deserved. But if Zo felt anything like this building ecstasy—he couldn't stop, it was right, it was perfect, because Zo deserved everything. Hylas bit his lip to try to silence his own noises, but they came out of him like sobs, and that felt good too.

Then Zo's body stiffened, and before Hylas could gasp out a panicked "What's wrong?" he heard Zo's cry of satisfaction and felt Zo's seed spill over his hand, and realized what had happened. On a wave of overwhelming relief and gratitude he reached his own climax and clasped Zo to himself so that they both came together, legs tangled, arms wrapped around each other, faces buried in one another's necks.