10. Chapter 10

Chapter ten

Kamir didn’t know what to do. Not that this state of indecision was unfamiliar. Mansala called it the great debate. Veda said it was like being between a rock and a hard place. He huffed quietly. He loved them both, but someday they would both realize it was merely an accident of birth that put him in the position he was in, and not ability.

The servants had been in to light the sconces, and he had considered bathing but couldn’t drum up the energy. They had also brought food, but he had yet to touch any of it, and he felt guilty over that because apparently he had two bowls of something called apple crumble, plus custard. Custard was a thick, hot yellow vanilla sauce, currently keeping warm in a jug, and the crumble seemed to consist of a cooked apple base and a topping of brown sugar, spices, and flour, all baked to a crust. He had to admit it smelled wonderful, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat for fear Tsaria wasn’t.

“Can you smell that?”

Kamir was brought out of his wanderings by the small, yet determined, whisper. “But it’s Wednesday. We have to eat fruit on Wednesdays, and I don’t think we’re anywhere near the kitchen.” a higher voice pointed out. Immediately diverted, and guessing he was hearing children, he decided to play along.

“What a shame,” Kamir said, as if he was talking to himself. “As a guest of their royal highnesses, I would never want to offend the palace cooks, yet I am too full to eat this dessert. Whatever shall I do?”

The silence seemed to go on for a really long time, and Kamir knew the only way they had managed to gain access to his chambers, despite the many palace guards, was that Mansala was absent. They had entered through a passage that came out into his bathing chamber, and not the kitchen as they must have expected.

It was a good thing Mansala had just left to do an errand with Ash, Attiker’s right-hand man.

He looked up as he heard steps and gazed in wonder as two children he recognized came into his suite. Flynn, the boy, maybe ten if he had to guess, and the girl, Candy, probably three summers younger. Kamir stood and bowed. “I am pleased to meet you again. Please call me Kamir.”

The girl dug her brother in the ribs. “See. Told you Daddy said he was a good one.”

Praise, any praise, made Kamir’s heart swell, and even though he had a good idea who they were, he formally introduced himself. “I have many names, but simply I am His Highness, Kamir of Rajpur.”

The boy bowed formally. “I am Prince Flynn, and this is Princess Candace.” The little girl giggled.

“You can call me Candy like my Daddy and Papa.”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Everyone calls you Candy unless it has to be official.”

Kamir was utterly charmed, and of course, asked if they could do him a great favor.

“What?” Flynn asked suspiciously.

“I am a guest, as you know, but I am struggling to eat all this wonderful food. I am fearful of offending the cook and I had hoped you might be hungry.”

Funnily enough, it turned out they were.

Like most palaces, this one was riddled with secret passages, and by the sound of it, thanks to Ash, Flynn and Candy were learning them all, but had been lured into following their noses. For a moment, Kamir wondered why he’d never been adventurous enough to discover his own secret passages, as he was sure the palace had them. But he knew. The adventures he found in books, with no company to encourage him to greater heights, were enough to sate his boyish longings, and he envied these two’s thirst for discovery. Spurred on by their eagerness, he ate some crackers and paste, which tasted wonderful. He heard all about their life as eelers and how they had barely survived in the orphanages called King’s Castles. The children informed him that orphans created by soldiers killed or captured in battle qualified for food and shelter, but lack of proper oversight meant some took advantage of both the stipend and the children it was supposed to aid.

Kamir was shamed again that even a failing system like that had never been put in place on his father’s watch. “If I return to take the crown, I will need advisors to implement a similar system.”

Candy beamed, but Flynn was old enough not to take something at face value. “You would need someone that has gone through it,” he stated. “No one that hasn’t would understand.”

Kamir inclined his head. “I promise to ask your advice if I ever get the power to change anything.”

“Do you think that you won’t?” Flynn challenged. “Aren’t you the king?”

“Yes, I am the emir,” Kamir said. “But I have to prove that to a very bad man that wants to usurp me before I have the opportunity.”

Flynn considered that answer. “Ash has taught me to fight. I can help.”

Kamir’s throat tightened. “I would be honored, but I imagine your fathers have need of you here.” Flynn shrugged.

“Not if it’s a worthy cause.”

“I am humbled,” Kamir said gravely. Not that he would ever put this boy in danger, but the fact that he had offered spoke volumes not just to his own heart, but to Attiker and Raz’s. “You do Cadmeera a great service.” Flynn inclined his head just as a boy taking on the mantle of a king would, and Kamir could only hope to match this child in bravery and sincerity. Cadmeera was safe for summers to come if this was who would rule. But then it would depend on the existing laws. He knew Cadmeera had as many stipulations for succession as Rajpur, and he knew Flynn wasn’t a shifter.

Tsaria put up a hand to silence Mansala as they entered the antechamber to the rooms Kamir was in. He could hear the emir’s voice and those of two children, and while Mansala looked uncomfortable, he stilled a moment. As Tsaria paused, he heard Kamir mention orphans, and how he would care for them. Was it a ruse? Or had been too quick to judge?

He acknowledged that if Kamir wanted him to stay because of the dragon, he could simply order it. But he hadn’t done that, and that, he supposed, was the one thing that kept his feet moving. But he didn’t trust any of them in the palace.

“Tsaria,” Kamir exclaimed when he saw him and stood. The boy stood as well and bowed.

“I am Flynn, and this is Candace.” He noticed the titles weren’t spoken, and he inclined his head politely and introduced himself.

The little girl jumped up. “Please call me Candy.” Tsaria was charmed, but Ash, who had followed them in, sighed heavily.

“Don’t you two get fed enough?”

“It’s Wednesday,” Candy shared, as if that was all the explanation needed.

“They won’t get into trouble?” Kamir said, nervously.

Ash grinned. “Did you save me some?” Both children smiled and the little girl giggled.

“No, Ash, but it was yummy. Must have been Cookie that made it. I’m sure she’ll make you some.”

Ash tried to hide his smile, then turned to Kamir and bowed. “Your Highness. I’m sorry if they’ve talked your ears off.”

“He says that,” the boy drawled, “like ears are gonna walk off on their own.”

“Or they could get detached on purpose,” Ash threatened. Grumbling, the children left with Ash and then as Tsaria looked around, he realized only Mansala stood between him and the emir. Mansala seemed to realize it at the same time, but instead of staying like a silent sentinel, he picked up the remnants of the food and walked away. Tsaria was left standing like a fool, having no idea what to say.

“I thought you might have left the palace,” the emir said.

“Did you?” Tsaria couldn’t help the challenge.

The emir met his gaze for a moment then turned away, but in that second Tsaria would have bet his life that the sorrow that painted his face was genuine, and for a moment Tsaria was shamed. And while this man could never have experienced the degradation he and so many others had, maybe he had grown up with a different kind of torment.

But he hadn’t known hunger.

He hadn’t known the pain and confusion as he’d been “taught” his new trade.

He hadn’t known the shame when, as an inexperienced boy, he had enjoyed some of his lessons, then hated himself until he learned to control his own body as if it no longer belonged to him. But then, it never had. Tsaria had always belonged to someone else. Was Kamir simply going to be a new master?

“So, what’s the plan?” Tsaria asked, brushing away memories that had no business intruding. “We need to know why you don’t change when I simply touch you.” Because if that was supposed to happen, it made no sense.

Kamir shrugged but turned away. “You know as much as I.”

“Then perhaps we need to figure this out? I assume you want to return to take the crown?”

Tsaria watched as the emir seemed to droop where he stood. He watched his shoulders curl forward and followed the slight bend of his neck. “I’m not fit to rule. My sister is far more qualified, and she would be perfect, but we would have to alter not only the royal edicts of Rajpur, but all sixteen members of the ruling assembly would have to agree, and I know I would be unable to persuade at least ten of them to crown a queen.”

The last was said in a whisper, almost as if he was ashamed, and Tsaria’s heart clenched despite his determination to remain unmoved. He spoke as if his very existence was futile, and that disturbed Tsaria on a level he was unfamiliar with. It was true Tsaria had seen many horrors both before and after entering the pleasure house, but for all his pathetic and limited choices, and despite all the emir’s wealth, it almost felt as if he had as little choice in his future as Tsaria did.

“Have you eaten?” Tsaria asked suddenly, regretting the question as soon as it left his lips. It wasn’t his place, but the emir looked like a slight breeze would blow him away.

Kamir turned, confusion on his face. “My apologies, I should have offered you some food.”

Tsaria shook his head. “I had some with Tam.” Tam had eaten it, so he’d known it wasn’t drugged.

“And I enjoyed some delicious crackers and paste with their highnesses.” Tsaria knew he meant the children.

“Then I believe as it is late enough, your Highness should perhaps take a bath and rest.” It was easy to drop into a role. Tsaria had done this a thousand times, and maybe the emir would speak more freely if he was relaxed.

“If we are to work this out between us, please call me by my given name. My mother chose it, so it is precious to me.”

They both lacked a mother’s love, but any reminder of similarities between them made him uncomfortable. “Kamir, then,” Tsaria agreed smoothly, slipping further into his familiar role. He walked to the bathing room and wasn’t surprised to see that the water came from a pipe and servants didn’t need to fill it. He also investigated the herbal salts available, and picked one containing chamomile and passionflower, both helpful to promote restful sleep, then added it liberally to the water.

Kamir appeared stripped to a simple robe. “You aren’t here to tend me. I am capable of running my own bath and even if I was so dim-witted, there are servants here.”

Tsaria didn’t know what to say. Kamir had to trust him before he spilled any secrets, so he knew he had to play his role, even if he felt some innate desire to spoil Kamir a little. Which made no sense. None of it did. “We need to be relaxed to talk without artifice or agendas,” Tsaria said. “I think this day, this week, has been unimaginably hard on us both.”

“Does that mean you will bathe as well?” Kamir blurted out, then seemed to realize his words. “Gods, I meant nothing. Please don’t think…” But if Tsaria had any confidence, it was in his own body. He could do what he was good at. He might want to seduce the emir’s mind, but that went hand in hand with seducing his body.

“Yes, Kamir. I need to bathe. I know you don’t expect anything.” Because any shame over his naked body had been beaten out of him summers since, he stripped, got in the heavenly bath, and beckoned Kamir to follow.

Kamir didn’t seem to know what to do, but Tsaria reached out and took his hand. Kamir’s robe fell off and Tsaria took him in. He was still too slender even if he seemed to have more muscles. His ribs were too apparent, and again he wondered if anyone had ever looked after this gentle man. But that made no sense. He was a prince, an emir. Rich beyond Tsaria’s wildest dreams.

Kamir stepped in and Tsaria prevented him from sitting opposite, despite the enormous bath having room. Instead he brought Kamir’s back flush to his chest, fitting him perfectly between his legs. Tsaria wasn’t hard. He could easily be, but command of his own body had been drilled so forcefully into him, he was unable now to truly let go.

Some patrons like to fool themselves that the slaves wanted them. Many didn’t care either way. Kamir relented and relaxed, and Tsaria felt every moment as Kamir finally gave him his weight.

When it happened, when Kamir finally surrendered, he couldn’t help the feeling of possessiveness, which was foolish, he knew. Tsaria bathed his highness, and at the final sigh, Tsaria knew he had fallen asleep. To have such power, such trust, was an incredibly heady feeling. Even as a slave, the bodyguards would be present, except Mansala had left them. It was an incredible display of trust that Tsaria honestly didn’t know what to do with.

He roused Kamir eventually and let out the cooling bath water, drying the emir because he doubted Kamir was awake enough to do it himself, and settled him in bed. When Kamir’s arms reached for him, Tsaria let himself be pulled down. He hadn’t meant to get into the same bed. He certainly didn’t mean to close his eyes. And he promised himself, when he knew Kamir was asleep, he would move.