7. Four

I stormed across the castle in a blind rage without a care for where I wound up. I didn't even know why I was so angry. It shouldn't have come as a shock to me that Ruith would leverage marriage to win alliances. In fact, it was the soundest thing he could do strategically. I'd have done the same thing in his position. The promise of a crown would be alluring to anyone hesitant to join his fight.

And yet the mere mention of it had made me blind with fury. It was foolish, and my behavior was childish, but I didn't care. I'd had enough of being used and abused for one day. I needed to be away from elves vying for power and status so I could get my head straight.

My march took me high into a stone tower and out onto the castle's battlements on the eastern side. While the western wall overlooked the falls, the view from the east was mostly farmland. A black windmill stood vigil in the distance, the sails worn. Fences dotted the land, some of them so distant I could barely make them out.

At a glance, ?nor wasn't so different from Ostovan. Both relied strongly on the surrounding farmland for their support. Ostovan didn't have the bounty of a river or the falls, though. We had rocky foothills and shallow soil. Droughts were a common problem, especially since Savarra's mages had rerouted the Trimre River a generation ago. But we made do, living on livestock and corn. Ostovan would never be a wealthy city, not like Trinta or Brucia, but it was home.

It was out there somewhere. Far from the distant fences and the half-naked mill spinning in the distance lay my city. My home. There, the traitor-king Michail ruled and Andrej's bones rotted too soon in the crypt far below while Modir Caracas practiced his dark arts.

Silk whispered over stone, and Katyr came to stand beside me, looking out over the wall. The wind swept through his blond curls as if the sky itself wanted to claw at him but lacked the courage. " Aumazigo nuagīs eza ma?r, nuagīs es haigon ei dal?r ," he said, as if reciting something.

I frowned. The language wasn't one I knew, though it must've been a close cousin of Savvarran because I recognized some parts of words.

He smiled. "It is old Savarran. Part of a very old poem found etched into a stone on some unnamed island off the coast of Savarra. ‘My heart is torn from kith and kin, and I find my soul wanders in foreign lands. I cry out for mercy but know only the sweetest suffering at your hands.'"

"Whoever wrote it must've been having a very bad day," I muttered.

"That is one interpretation. Another is that the poem was an attempt to woo some lost love." He sighed. "I suppose we shall never know. Time and the ocean have worn away much of the inscription. There are so few left who speak the old tongues of the world that even that much will soon be forgotten. One day, all that will remain is a rock with curious carvings and all the men and elves will debate its significance, never knowing what they never knew."

"That's a depressing thought."

"Is it?" He turned to face me. "I find it comforting. The poor soul who wrote it was so consumed with his suffering—whatever the cause—that he had to etch it on a rock. As great as his pain was, even it passed. His words outlived his pain. Suffering is temporary, but what we do with it…What we make? It is immortal and universal. Whether it was a man or elf who wrote those words, I can read them even now, a thousand years later, and know the yearnings of his heart."

I sighed and put my hands on the cold stone, leaning against the battlements. "What legacy does war leave for future generations?"

He crossed his arms, considering the question for a moment. "There will be pain," he said at last. "The sort that echoes through generations. But all change is painful—good or bad."

We stood in silence, peering out at the fields with the safety of the castle at our backs. I wondered what the mage elf thought of me and his brother's machinations, whether he approved of Ruith's plan to manipulate and use me.

In the end, I decided it didn't matter what role, if any, Katyr had played in my rise to power. He was likely as much a victim as me in Ruith's schemes.

"I saw Klaus Wolfheart's banners this morning," Katyr said quietly. "Did you come from his meeting with Ruith?"

"I did." My fingers curled around the rough stone until they ached. "He wants Ruith to wed one of his daughters so she'll be queen."

"I see. And what did Ruith say?"

I lowered my head. "I left before I could hear his answer."

Katyr glanced up and down the wall before he placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. "I'm sure you've been told already that the Wolfhearts are essential to Ruith's path to victory. I am also certain that is of little comfort to you. What the head knows and the heart wants are not always the same thing."

I shrugged off his hand. "Why should I care who he weds and beds? As long as he keeps his word to help me take Ostovan, then he's free to do as he wishes. Let him put a dozen sons in the Wolfheart girl. It matters not to me."

"Your denial does you a disservice, Prince Elindir," Katyr scolded.

I turned to face him with a frown. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me. Even a blind child could see there is something between you two. Denying what everyone can see only makes you look like more of a fool than him."

"What do you know about it?" I scoffed and turned my back on the elf.

"What do I know?" He let out a bitter laugh. "What could I possibly know of forbidden affections for a man wed to another? After what you saw of my uncle and I at Godsfel, you know better than that."

I flushed, the memory of accidentally interrupting Katyr and his uncle surfacing. Niro had been forced to marry Kudai's niece, presumably in Taratheil's effort to subdue the north. Taratheil had failed and left Niro with a child bride to show for it.

I sighed and shook my head. "I apologize. I didn't mean that. I mean only that… Well, what I should've said is…" Exasperated, I paced away a few steps only to stomp back. "I hate him!" I declared in a tone that did little to convince even me. "All he's ever done is use me. I'm nothing but a pawn to him, Katyr."

"And yet you harbor feelings for him, do you not?"

"I don't know!" I shouted, though that, too, was a lie. I did know. I just didn't want to give such thoughts a voice. If I did, I might never be able to take them back. With another sigh, I practically threw myself at the wall, slamming my fists down on the rough stone. Pain shot up through my arms, but I didn't care. I punched the rock again, and this time my knuckles came away bloody. I moved to punch the wall again, but Katyr stopped me, pulling me back from the stone.

"Stop it, you fool, before you break your hands," he shouted, holding me in place. "Then you'll be no good to anybody!"

I clenched my bloody fists, relishing the pain that shot through my rapidly swelling hands. It was better than the maddening pain that had been swelling in my chest. "Why do the gods make us want what can never be?"

"We cannot know the will of the gods. That's for the priests to interpret. You and I are just people. Mortals driven by mortal fears." Katyr sighed and shook his head, turning my bloody fists over carefully in his hands. "You need to see a healer, Elindir. And then you need to speak with Ruith. Don't let this fester between you."

"There is nothing to speak to the king about," I said, numb everywhere but my hands.

"Nonsense. Tell him the truth about how you feel, Elindir. Even if you don't know how you feel. Say that much. But don't close this door prematurely." He patted my shoulder. "My half-brother is every bit as stubborn as you are, so he won't say it, but when you were taken, he was so distraught it nearly broke him. It nearly cost him the support of the bone tribes to ride after you."

"But it didn't," I said quietly and stepped away. "And it shouldn't. Ruith is a king. His people should come first. Always."

"Gods above, Elindir, how can you be so obtuse? You are one of his people, you thick-skulled, stubborn princeling!" He gave me a hard shove. "Now, off to the healer with you! Before I drag you there by your ear!"

I went to the healer, who thankfully didn't ask for an explanation. It was lucky I hadn't broken any of the bones in my hands and only bloodied the knuckles, but he advised me to take it easy on my hands for the next few days. His healing did little for the pain in my knuckles, so upon returning to my quarters, I thought to have a bath.

Hawk was there, but I sent him away, as well as the pair of tr?lls who offered to bathe me. Despite the pain in my hands, I was determined to do it myself.

While there was a tub in the room, ?nor's unique position over the falls meant there were was a whole level in one of the towers that served as a bathhouse. It wasn't as grand as the bathhouse I'd visited in Trinta with my father and brothers, but it was similar. The room had been carved directly into the mountainside, with marble laid over the rock. Rocky columns held up a vaulted stone ceiling, upon which some artist had painted a relief that showed two elven gods fucking while some half-naked lady looked on wearing a bored expression.

I was told the baths were public, but no one else was down there in the middle of the day, so I had the place to myself. Undressing was difficult with my fingers still stiff after the healer's work, but I managed. It was well worth the effort, I decided, as I sank into the steaming water. The baths in the bowels of ?nor felt like the finest place in the whole world.

Until I opened my eyes and found myself staring at the relief on the ceiling. It wasn't the first erotic art I'd seen of two men together, but it was a rare thing in Ostovan. Same sex love was viewed as something one was expected to grow out of. Just another luxury of youth. A wife, children, a household… Those were the marks of a man. If he kept a lover on the side—not at all uncommon—he was expected to be discreet. There were whole courses of etiquette concerned with how lovers and wives should be seated, how far apart they should pass in their comings and goings, how they should and shouldn't greet one another.

I sank deeper into the steaming water, letting it soothe my aching muscles and throbbing knuckles, but it did little to ease the turmoil in my mind. My gaze remained fixed on that damnable ceiling relief, the two male figures entwined in their passionate embrace.

The steam from the bath curled around me, its humid tendrils like ghostly fingers trailing across my skin. I shivered despite the heat, my mind conjuring unwelcome images of Ruith and Taelyn Wolfheart, their bodies entwined, her soft curves pressed against the hard planes of his chest.

"Axdal and Ogdolan." Ruith's voice echoed through the bath chamber and I sat up. The sound of his footsteps preceded his appearance near one of the columns on the far side of the room. He tilted his head back to look at the mural I'd been considering before adding thoughtfully, "and their sometimes lover, Drasias. Though most of the modern poetry would have you believe Ogdolan was Axdal's wife. They weren't married. Not in the old tales. Nobody was. Lifelong monogamy is a fairly recent invention, historically speaking."

I closed my eyes and let my head fall back, pretending his presence didn't bother me. "Shouldn't you be entertaining Lord Wolfheart? Planning your coronation, perhaps? Or your wedding."

Ruith approached the edge of the bath, his dark eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my breath catch. "Taelyn Wolfheart and I will wed tomorrow. The ceremony will be small, but sufficient."

I turned away. "Congratulations."

Ruith frowned, his brows knitting together. "Elindir, you must understand. This marriage is a political necessity. The Wolfheart clan commands the largest army in the realm. With their support, we can finally challenge my father's rule. Everything we've worked for hinges on this alliance."

I lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug, the water rippling around me. "You're the king. You don't owe me any explanations." But even as I spoke the words, the bitter sting of betrayal rose like bile in my throat.

Ruith's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking beneath the skin. He began to undress, nimble fingers working at the fastenings of his tunic.

I sat up in the bath and moved to the other side, frown deepening. I folded my arms. "What are you doing?" I demanded as he slid—naked—into the bath with me. "There are two other chambers. Go bathe there and let me have my peace."

I turned away from Ruith, desperately trying to ignore the way the water lapped at his bronzed skin as he waded towards me. The humid air felt thick and heavy, clinging to my lungs with each labored breath. I could feel the heat of his gaze on my back, intense and unwavering, like the scorching rays of a merciless sun.

"Elindir," he said firmly. "Look at me."

Against my better judgment, I glanced over my shoulder, my resolve crumbling like a fortress wall under siege. Ruith stood before me, water droplets glistening on his sculpted chest, his dark hair slicked back from his angular face. In that moment, he looked every inch the elven king—regal, powerful, and utterly breathtaking.

"What do you want from me?" I asked, my voice rough. "You've made your choice. You'll have your crown and your queen. What more could you possibly need?"

Ruith's eyes flashed, and he closed the distance between us with a single stride, his hand coming up to cup my face. "You stubborn, infuriating man," he murmured, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone. "This changes nothing between us."

I jerked away from his touch, the water churning around me as I put distance between us. "There is no us, Ruith. We are allies by necessity, who fucked once during an eclipse. Nothing more."

I turned away, my heart hammering in my chest. The steam from the bath curled around me, clinging to my skin.

"You're wrong," Ruith said. "It was more than just a fuck. You know it, and I know it."

I shook my head, my jaw clenched tight. "It doesn't matter. You've made your choice. Your kingdom comes first, as it should."

Ruith's hand closed around my wrist. He tugged me back towards him, spinning me around to face him.

"My choice," he growled, "is you."

Before I could protest, Ruith's mouth crashed down on mine, his lips demanding and insistent. I tried to resist, my hands coming up to push against his chest, but my treacherous body melted into his embrace. His tongue swept into my mouth, claiming me with a ferocity that left me breathless.

Ruith's hands roamed over my skin, his touch searing me to my very core. He backed me up against the edge of the bath and trapped me there, caging me in with his huge body.

Ruith's hand slid down my chest, fingers trailing over the slick skin until they closed around my rapidly hardening cock. I gasped into his mouth, my hips bucking involuntarily into his touch. He stroked me with a firm, confident grip, his calloused palm creating a delicious friction that sent shockwaves of pleasure rippling through my body.

"Ruith," I panted, tearing my mouth away from his. "Stop."

"No," he growled, his lips trailing along my jaw, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin of my throat. "That's not what you really want, and we both know it."

He was right. Even as I fought him, I wanted more of him. My mouth said no, but my body, my brain, and all the rest of me was screaming yes.

Ruith's mouth trailed lower, his lips and teeth marking a path down my throat as his hand continued to stroke my aching length beneath the water. I shuddered and gasped, fingers scrabbling at his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh. I wanted to push him away, to deny the heat building low in my gut, but I couldn't stop arching into his touch, seeking more of the exquisite friction.

"Stop fighting me," Ruith growled against my skin, his breath hot on my collar bone.

"I don't... I can't..." The words emerged strangled and breathless.

My mind was in turmoil, a tempest of conflicting desires. I knew I should resist, should put an end to this madness before it consumed me whole. Before I remembered that I craved his touch, his warmth, his commands.

Ruith's fingers tightened around my shaft, his thumb swirling over the sensitive head in maddening circles. Pleasure lanced through me, sharp and sweet, and I threw my head back with a guttural moan. He took advantage of my parted lips, claiming my mouth in a searing kiss that stole the breath from my lungs.

Breaking away, he began to kiss a trail down my chest, his lips and tongue and teeth painting a map of ecstasy on my fevered skin. Ruith's lips blazed a trail of fire down my chest, his teeth grazing over a nipple and sending jolts of electric pleasure arcing through my body. I writhed beneath him, caught between the unyielding edge of the bath and the hard planes of his muscular body.

"Ruith, stop." I protested weakly, even as my fingers tangled in his raven hair, holding him closer.

Ruith ignored my feeble objections and dropped to his knees.

I dug my fingernails into his scalp until I felt the skin give and glared down at him. "If you're expecting me to reciprocate—"

Ruith's dark eyes flashed up at me, a wicked smirk curling his lips. "I expect nothing from you, Elindir. Only that you accept what I give."

With that, he took me into his mouth, engulfing my aching cock in the wet heat of his throat. I cried out, my head falling back against the stone edge of the bath as shockwaves of pleasure radiated through me. Ruith's tongue swirled around my length, tracing throbbing veins and flicking over the sensitive underside. He hollowed his cheeks, sucking hard as his head bobbed up and down.

I gasped and cursed, my voice strangled and desperate. My hips twitched forward of their own accord, but Ruith's hands gripped my hips, fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to bruise as he held me in place, controlling the pace. I was utterly at his mercy, helpless to do anything but surrender to the onslaught of sensation.

"Please," I whimpered, unsure if I was begging for him to stop or to never stop. My mind felt hazy, thoughts scattering like leaves on the wind as Ruith's wicked mouth reduced me to a quivering, incoherent mess.

A guttural moan tore from my throat as Ruith's mouth worked me over, his tongue swirling and probing, teeth grazing ever so lightly. The sensations were overwhelming, pleasure cresting through me in relentless waves. I fisted my hands in his dark hair, the wet strands sliding between my fingers as I tried in vain to anchor myself.

"Ruith," I gasped out, the name both a plea and a prayer on my lips. My back arched, the muscles in my thighs and abdomen quivering with tension as I strained against his iron grip on my hips.

He released me with a loud pop that echoed through the baths. "You're close."

"No," I lied, breathless

"Don't lie to me." Ruith flicked his tongue out to lap at a bead of moisture at my tip, making me jerk and curse. "I can feel you fighting it. You're trembling so hard."

"I hate you," I ground out through clenched teeth, even as my hips jerked forward, asking for more.

"But you'll come for me just the same."

I wanted to deny it, to summon some scrap of defiance, but my body betrayed me, strung tight as a bowstring ready to snap. Ruith's hand slid up my thigh, fingers digging into the taut muscle as his mouth closed around me once more. He took me deep, the head of my cock hitting the back of his throat, and swallowed around me.

A hoarse cry ripped from my chest as the sensation shattered me. Ruith worked me mercilessly, his head bobbing up and down, tongue swirling and probing. Pleasure built inside me, coiling tighter and tighter, until it exploded outwards in a blinding rush. My vision went white, my whole body seizing up as I spilled myself down Ruith's throat in pulsing waves.

Ruith swallowed every drop, his throat constricting around me, wringing out every last shudder of ecstasy until I was spent and trembling. He released me slowly, licking me clean with long, leisurely strokes of his tongue that made me twitch and gasp with oversensitivity.

Ruith rose to his feet, water sluicing down his bronzed skin in rivulets that caught the light. Before I could catch my breath, his mouth claimed mine in a searing kiss, his tongue delving past my lips to share the bitter, slightly salty taste of my own release.

Ruith's other hand gripped my jaw, holding me in place as he deepened the kiss. His tongue tangled with mine, stroking and caressing, before he pulled back just enough to nip at my bottom lip.

"Exquisite," Ruith purred, his voice a low rumble against my lips. "I've never tasted a human before, but I think I prefer it to wine. Or anything, for that matter."

I glared up at Ruith through the haze of post-orgasmic bliss, trying to summon some shred of anger or indignation, but my body was languid and pliant, still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure.

"You're a bastard," I managed, my voice rough and ragged.

Ruith chuckled.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. "This doesn't change anything," I said, but the words lacked conviction. "You're still marrying her."

Ruith's jaw tightened, a flicker of annoyance passing over his angular features. "I am. For the good of the kingdom. But Elindir..."

Ruith's hand slid from my jaw to cup the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in the damp strands of my hair. He held me there, his dark eyes boring into mine with a possessive heat that made my spent cock twitch with renewed interest.

"You're still mine," he murmured, his breath hot against my lips. "No matter what political games we must play, never forget that."

I wanted to protest, to deny the claim he laid upon me, but the words stuck in my throat. Because deep down, in a place I dared not examine too closely, I knew he was right. As much as I might fight against it, some part of me belonged to him, body and soul.

And no marriage, no war, no alliance was ever going to change that.