14. Chapter 14

Chapter fourteen

Kamir had stayed awake a long time after Tsaria had fallen asleep in his arms, and he thought about all they had found out today, and his own admission.

And…decided it was freeing . He was sick of apologizing for what he wasn’t and trying to be something else. Finding out he was an omega didn’t make him less. If anything, it was so validating it made him more.

He knew Rajpur would take more than one person to make it blossom into the kingdom he knew in his heart it was capable of becoming. Veda was essential. But so was Tsaria. He could remain the figurehead if needed, even if it was the last thing he wanted. Change would take time, probably longer than his lifetime, but he was enthused with the idea he could spend that long improving life for his people.

He also knew Raz and Attiker were good people and would remain loyal to a Rajpur free of the yoke of poverty. They had the same ideals in Cadmeera, and had offered shelter and assistance to him when it could plunge them into another war.

He had eight days left to present his animal or innocents would die. There was no point appealing to the ruling assembly. If he had more time, then maybe he could talk to individual members, but he didn’t. He was determined to take them both to Eldara tomorrow, but he wasn’t sure that was the answer. Eldara had admitted she knew nothing about dragon shifters.

Somehow, he thought Tsaria and he had to figure this out on their own. He just didn’t know where to start.

The next morning, they were woken way too early by Jael deciding to jump on their bed. Apparently Mansala had been capable of protecting Kamir from assassins since he was four summers old, but was unable to corral one little boy.

They ate breakfast together and Mansala joined them. A servant appeared to take Master Jael to his lessons at the eighth bell and Jael went eagerly.

“I wish I had viewed learning with such enthusiasm at his age,” Kamir said after Jael had left.

“I wish I’d had the opportunity to learn,” Tsaria whispered, and Kamir winced.

“I’m sorry,” Tsaria said after a moment. “It wasn’t my intention to make you think you were in any way responsible for my life,”

“That’s the thing, though,” Kamir said. “I represent Rajpur. I was an adult while my father was busy warring, and never once did I leave the library unless I was forced.”

“Ishmael was strict,” Tsaria admitted, “but not once did I try to escape.”

“Why didn’t you?” Kamir asked, because this was the first time Tsaria had really shared.

“Because I was willing to trade my body for food and shelter,” Tsaria answered, and sounded as if he was ashamed, which Kamir wouldn’t have.

“No, my love,” Kamir said, reaching for him where they were sitting on one of the daybeds after finishing their morning meal. “Tsaria, you were a child. You did what you could to survive and I’m so thankful for it. Never feel you have to apologize for anything.” Kamir scooted closer and cupped Tsaria’s bent head in his hands and gently forced him to look up.

And then he stilled. Words left him as he gazed into Tsaria’s gray eyes, and his breath caught. He was stunning. Pale brown skin that almost seemed luminescent. Not a hair anywhere on his body, and Kamir had no doubt he had been given the herbs at the pleasure house to prevent it from growing. He knew if given in puberty it would stave off hair growth for many summers.

He was about the same height as Kamir but fit so perfectly against his body as if he were made to stay there. Sleek muscles. Long, talented fingers the memory of which had Kamir’s length stirring in the loose silk salvar pants he wore. “So beautiful,” he whispered, and bent forward, need clamoring at him, but then Tsaria’s words from the night before echoed in his mind. He’d had no choice.

“I desperately want to kiss you, but I would never—”

Lips fastened on his. Glorious, sensual lips and a tongue that slid along them, demanding entrance. Kamir’s body reacted instantly. Heat stole through him, robbing him of the need for air. He opened his mouth and sought Tsaria’s tongue. Shivers wracked him, trembling waves of lust danced over his skin on their way to his groin. Mocking, pulsing, the promise of what he wanted, what he needed more than his next breath.

Everything in Kamir coiled tight.

Tsaria pushed him flat with a gentle hand and he lay back willingly. He wanted—goddess he wanted everything.

“Kamir,” Tsaria choked out and reached down and pulled Kamir’s pants away, hooking his fingers into the thin liner of his salvar and removing that as well. Kamir gasped as Tsaria’s fingers brushed the delicate skin of his cock and it jerked unbidden, sending glorious tremors along his length and up his spine.

Kamir moaned and then Tsaria fastened his lips over the tip and Kamir cried out, startled that something could feel so incredibly good. He was hard, and everything in him seemed to pulse at once. Tsaria sucked and laved his length until Kamir was mindless, all his focus on the incoming storm his body shook with. Tsaria lifted a little and cupped Kamir’s sac, rolling it in fingers that were so damn talented, yet gentle. His tongue circled Kamir’s cock, tracing the vein, then moving higher and spearing the tip.

Kamir broke out in sweat, yet delicious shivers wracked his body until he wanted to beg for mercy, needing more. “Tsaria, beloved, oh…”

Tsaria sucked harder and cupped and tugged on Kamir’s sac, until everything in him grew so tight he wanted nothing more than to chase the impending crash. Then Tsaria scraped his teeth up his length and that final bite of pain pushed him over the edge.

And Tsaria never let him go. Not with his mouth until his cock had finished pulsing, and not with his arms as he held him tight afterwards. “You are amazing,” Kamir whispered after a long few moments. “Perhaps—"

“Highness,” the apologetic tone filtered into his mind like an irritating fly he wanted to swat away.

Tsaria drew back and the spell was broken. Kamir wanted to swear at the interruption. He had every intention of taking Tsaria to their chamber and spoiling him.

“A thousand apologies for the intrusion,” Mansala said. “But you have a visitor.”

Kamir turned, swallowing his desperation down. “Who?”

“Again, my apologies, Highness, but the visitor is for Tsaria. The man says he is his brother, Alain, and demands admittance.”

Tsaria hissed in a breath, as if in shock. “Alain?”

Kamir glanced at Tsaria and Mansala added, “He says he has traveled far.”

Kamir cupped Tsaria’s cheek. “Talk to me.”

Tsaria visibly gathered his wits. “Alain is closest to me in age, barely forty lunar months older. Tomas is my elder by nearly five summers. Alain—” he paused. “Alain was the most upset when our father sold me to Ishmael. He offered to share his meals with me, but our father said he would need it all to fuel him for the work needed in the fields.”

“He has travelled a long way,” Kamir said, not altogether happy with that thought for some ridiculous reason. His heart seemed to drop to his boots. Was it jealousy? Shame coursed through him. This was the only family member that seemed to give a damn about Tsaria, and he wanted it to be all about him. All him. To have Tsaria’s full attention. He was despicable.

“When father sold me, he was the only one that objected,” Tsaria said, and Kamir’s heart hurt for his man.

“Then let us welcome him.”

Tsaria clutched his hand, “You’ll be with me?”

“Of course,” Kamir soothed, but he was delighted with the idea. “I will never leave your side as long as you need me there.” So that promise might have been a little over the top, but Kamir meant every word.

He gave Tsaria a couple of minutes to get himself together, then sent for refreshments. Finally, he indicated to Mansala that they were ready.

Tsaria wasn’t sure if he would ever be ready for this. He hadn’t seen Alain since the day he’d been left with Ishmael. He’d been so frightened, betrayed . He was small but he had worked just as hard in the fields, even though nothing he did was ever good enough for his father. He’d labored so hard, Tomas sometimes had to carry him home because he’d keeled over asleep. He’d never been fed as much as the other two, and understood he would receive more if he worked extra hard, which he never seemed to manage to his father’s satisfaction.

Tsaria stayed sitting as Mansala let Alain in and for a very long moment they just stared at each other. Alain was the same. The brown mop of hair, so different from his and Tomas’s, the scar at the side of his mouth where a whip had caught him when Tomas had been practicing, and the freckles that were supposed to come from his father’s side of the family.

Alain stood still, barely breathing, until he choked out the word neera , which meant tiny fish, and was what Alain had called him just about every day of their lives. Tsaria was on his feet before he knew it and a heartbeat later wrapped in his brother’s arms, tears rolling down both their faces.

When Tsaria’s tears dried, he realized that apart from Kamir, who was giving them some space, they were alone, and that nearly set him weeping again because Kamir had made sure they had privacy.

“I will be close if you need me,” Kamir promised and left. Tsaria dragged Alain over to a daybed and they sat down. He busied himself preparing tea just to give himself time to recover. “How did you know I was here?” Because Tsaria had no idea what Alain was doing here. He’d spent ten summers barely eleven miles from their land and he’d never seen any of them.

“We got a visit from the prefect.”

Tsaria gasped and nearly dropped the teapot. The prefect was the emir’s hand of justice for the village.

“He wanted us to persuade you to return to the palace, but… palace , neera? What on earth were you doing there? He wouldn’t explain. He just said that bad things would happen if you didn’t.”

Tsaria’s heart fell somewhere around his sandals. “Bad things?”

Alain waved his hand almost impatiently. “Why are you here? In Cadmeera? I don’t understand.”

Tsaria abandoned the tea and got to his feet, trying to tamp down his anger, and reminded himself Alain was but a child himself when their father sold him. “I had to move on, Alain, you know this. I am too old for the pleasure house now.”

Alain reddened slightly and fiddled with the cup his tea was in, but didn’t drink any. “You know I tried to change Father’s mind.” He hesitated. “And got beaten for it.”

Guilt assailed Tsaria and he returned to his brother, remembering Alain was the only one that day who had spoken up for him. “Tell me about you,” he pressed. “Do you still work the farm? And Tomas?”

Alain seemed grateful for the reprieve. “Father isn’t the same. He gets confused. My wife Margaret cares for him. We live in the same house.” He hesitated and Tsaria processed everything.

“May your union bring you the blessings of the goddess,” Tsaria murmured automatically. A traditional wedding blessing.

Alain smiled tightly. “Tomas isn’t there. He joined the army on his sixteenth birthday, and I’ve never heard from him since.”

It took Tsaria a moment to absorb the words. “The army ?” he repeated in shock. “But he was always about the farm.” Tomas could read and pored over Grandad’s diaries. He studied crop yields and rotations. New ideas for seasonal crops. He wanted to negotiate at the market, but Father wouldn‘t allow it, despite his sound reasoning. And sixteen? That meant he left seven months after Tsaria was sold.

“I don’t think Father ever recovered from losing both of you.”

Anger made Tsaria snap. “He didn’t lose me, he sold me to a whorehouse.”

Alain swallowed heavily and ducked his head, and Tsaria felt contrite. He was taking his anger out on the wrong person. He took a steadying breath. “I’m sorry. I know the fault isn’t laid at your door.”

Alain smiled, seeming relieved. “Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here?”

Tsaria wanted to bubble with happiness, but something in him advised caution. “I met the emir at a celebration and accompanied him here.”

Alain frowned. “To be honest, until the prefect visited we didn’t know he wasn’t at the palace.” Alain shifted uncomfortably and then gulped his tea. “So, your job’s the same? Just one guy?”

Bitterness crept into where blood should have flowed in his veins. “Fucking, you mean? Just checking what you mean by job .”

Alain blanched. “Neera, no. I didn’t mean that. I tried to get Father to rescind the sale. But he was adamant, and there was no way I could have gotten my hands on the money to buy you back.”

Which was true, but even then… “If you missed me so much, why did I never see you? We were in the neighboring village.”

He looked aghast. “Ishmael never said? I tried for months, neera.” His eyes turned glassy, wet. “Ishmael said you were so angry you refused to see me.”

It was like a vise clutched his throat. Not that he wasn’t surprised by Ishmael’s lies. He’d forgotten Alain was only a little older than he. How could he have expected another child to ride to the rescue? Tomas, maybe. At sixteen he was considered a grown man, but he’d decided to ride to glory instead of rescuing his little brother. Tsaria stood and opened his arms. Alain just about dived into them, and they embraced without the storm of tears.

“I want you to meet Kamir properly.”

“I haven’t told you everything,” Alain mumbled. “We got a visit from the prefect. He told me if I failed to return with you, bad things would happen to Margaret and the girls.”

“What bad things?” Kamir asked, making Tsaria jump. He had come back into the room almost silently.

“I have children,” Alain blurted out. “Sarah’s seven and Arrabella is three.” He gazed at Tsaria. “They’re babies.”

Tsaria’s stomach fell. He should have known all this was too good to be true. And his throat closed with new tears. Alain was a good man. In his own way he’d had as many battles as Tsaria had, maybe more. Different didn’t mean worse. He’d been blaming him for a decision his father made so many summers ago.

He watched as Alain sniffed and a bad feeling curled up his spine. Did Tsaria believe everything Alain said?

No, if Tsaria was honest. And it wasn’t that he thought Alain deliberately lied, he just might have not been given the truth.

About any of it.