3. Damon

3

DAMON

T he next morning Damon wakes with a sore head. He climbs from his bed, memories of the night before hazy.

He finds Lyr on the other side of the curtain, sleeping in the corner, still wrapped in the cloak. Damon watches him. His elegant, fine-boned face. The only other part of him that's visible outside the furry mass of the cloak is a single hand. Damon looks at Lyr's wrist. It's slender. He's so fragile, Damon thinks. How has a creature like this survived seven years in King Ramel's harem? He would have been eighteen if he really was brought here seven years ago. A few years older than Damon had been when he'd begun his sentence of indentured service, but Damon had been strong then and already almost a head taller than Atticul and his bastard brother, Lukas.

How delicate and fragile had Lyr been at eighteen? And what had Ramel wanted with him when all his other pleasure slaves were beautiful women?

Damon remembers Trysta joking the night before, as she stood up from the table on wobbly legs, asking Damon if he planned to take his slave to bed. "Sins of the body are forgiven during war," she reminded him.

"And fall into Atticul's trap?" Damon had replied. "Never."

Damon pulls on his breeches and the shirt he'd worn the night before. He heads out of the tent. It's early but the sun is already strong. Damon enjoys the feel of it warming his skin. Jur-Mattan is too cold at night for his liking, but the climate during the day is his idea of perfect, starting warm and climbing to a skin-blistering heat in the middle of the day.

Around him, the camp is packing up. He remembers what Trysta had said, only a few companies staying back to hold Pellex, the rest pushing on to the Ik-Sundal border. But is the advance really happening so soon?

He should speak to Atticul about this. The men need to rest first. Ik-Sundal is a desert land and much larger than Jur-Mattan. Their warriors are notoriously brutal.

Desert campaigns need careful planning.

"Good morning, Sire," says Renrel, coming around the side of the tent. "Should I start striking your camp? You are returning to Attar this morning on the Azuria Ascendant, I believe."

"The Azuria Ascendant ?" Damon shakes his head. The Azuria Ascendant is Atticul's flagship. "No. I will be returning on my own ship, on the White Watch." Why would Renrel not think Damon would be taking his own ship home?

"Oh," says Renrel. "I apologise, Sire, but General Paramount Atticul has informed me this morning that you have resigned from the Imperial Army. The White Watch has already sailed along the coast to establish a second front in Ik-Sundal."

Damon swallows. "I see. "

"Prince Atticul assured me that you would have safe passage home on the Azuria Ascendant. He is travelling back to Azuria himself for a time, while Prince Endrew leads the campaign."

Damon nods. "Strike the camp, Renrel. I need to speak to Atticul."

"Very good, Sire. I understand he's at the docks"

Damon turns. He is about to race to the docks to explain to Atticul that he will not be setting foot on the Azuria Ascendant while he has breath in his body, when Renrel says, "Sire, one thing."

Damon turns back. "What?"

"Your, uh, companion. Is he still inside? Would you like me to dispose of him, Sire?"

Clearly, Renrel thinks Lyr is just a whore who needs paying off and told to get out of camp.

"No," Damon says. "I will deal with him myself."

"Yes, Sire," says Renrel as Damon stamps back into the tent.

He finds Lyr sitting up, still swathed in the cloak.

"Good morning," Lyr says in Artemian.

"Get up. We need to go to the docks."

"Right now?" says Lyr, obediently getting to his feet. He sounds wary, but Damon doesn't have time for Lyr's concerns.

"Yes," Damon says, grabbing hold of Lyr's wrist as soon as he is on his feet.

"Why?" Lyr says as Damon drags him out of the tent.

"I need to speak to my fucking brother."

As Damon drags Lyr through the camp, he sees Trysta. She sees him too, calling out and racing over.

"Damon," she says. "Leaving without saying goodbye?"

"Atticul's taken command of my fucking ship," Damon snaps at her. "Sent it ahead to fucking Ik-Sundal to set up a second front."

Trysta shrugs. "If you are no longer part of the Imperial Army you no longer have a fucking ship."

"He knows if I knew of this I would have told him it's too soon to push into Ik-Sundal. I would have made my point loudly and in front of his men."

"When has Atticul ever sought your council? Even when you were one of his Generals."

Damon leans close to Trysta. "He's not even going himself. He's sailing back to Attar. He expects me to take a cabin on the Azuria Ascendant."

Trysta shrugs. "A fine ship."

"No ship where Atticul is captain is fine for me."

"I don't think you have a choice unless you plan to march home."

Damon swallows some of his rage. "When I am gone, I need you to look out for Endrew for me. He's being left to lead this campaign. He's twenty-two and struggles to keep charge of his men. You need to protect him."

"Endrew is in command? I'll do my best."

"He'll listen to you. Everyone listens to you."

"They listen to me because they respect you. Everyone knows I have your ear."

"So make it clear, any questioning of Endrew, any undermining of him and I will hear of it. Right?"

"Right."

They look at each other. Damon sees it dawning on Trysta that they are saying goodbye. After years of fighting side by side, this could be the last time they see each other for a long time, perhaps forever. "Then, Zai, hold your heart," he says, holding out a hand.

Trysta grasps his forearm. "Zai, hold your heart, soldier," she says and pulls him into an embrace.

When he reaches the docks, Damon doesn't have to look for Atticul. He comes swanning up to them, grinning. He has a tall woman on his arm, dressed in white and a little familiar. Damon assumes this is Atticul's own prize from Ramel's group of whores.

"Good morning to you, Bastard. Did you have a pleasant evening? We missed you at our revels. But I notice you vanished back to your tent as soon as you got your hands on this specimen."

Damon glances at Lyr. He hadn't given him much thought as he blazed through the camp to the docks. The place is hot and busy. The Imperial fleet is being readied for the return to Azuria. Men swarm everywhere loading ships with supplies. It's a slick and regimented operation, typical of the Imperial Army. Damon notices that his ship, the White Watch, the flagship of his part of the fleet and the ship on which he always travels, is indeed gone.

"You sent my ship to Ik-Sundal."

"It's not your ship, Bastard, it's the property of Azuria. As soon as you resigned your post it fell under my command as your superior. Did you really think you'd be allowed to simply keep a part of the Imperial fleet?"

"My ship was meant to be returning to Azuria."

"There's been a change of plan. We move forward to the Ik-Sundal border today. The White Watch has been sent down the coast to create a second front. Simply tactics."

"Tactics?" Damon stares at Atticul. It will take days to march to the border between Jur-Mattan and Ik-Sundal and they will certainly meet Ik-Sundal troops there. There's no port along the coast until Ashkan. His ship has not been sent to create a second front. "Are you chasing someone?"

"What do you mean?"

"The White Watch is the fastest ship in the fleet. Did someone get away? Someone from Ramel's court. Are you chasing someone who fled to Ik-Sundal?"

"If I am, Bastard, I would not disclose such a thing to someone with dubious allegiances. The White Watch is gone and there is a cabin for you in the Azuria Ascendant and that will be an end to it unless you wish to refuse my offer of passage and make your own way home. I am under no duty to ensure you return to Attar now that you are not part of my army."

Damon knows this isn't precisely true. Atticul would face anger from their father and Emperor Selim if he returned home and announced that he had left the great hero of the campaign to make his own way home from Jur-Mattan. But Damon would rather Atticul did not get the chance to explain the circumstances of Damon's resignation without him present.

"Damon," Atticul says, "I don't see what has upset you so. Perhaps you are still battle-weary. You have a cabin on the Imperial flagship of the General Paramount, a great honour for a great hero. I will even make space for your companion here. Let us travel home as victorious brothers, aboard one ship. And of course, Zai does not punish sins of the body committed by soldiers away from home. With that in mind, we will both have a refreshing voyage before we return to the arms of Zai. Have you met my own concubine from King Ramel's delightful harem?" He gestures to the tall woman on his arm. "She is rather wonderful."

Damon nods to her. She offers a hand to Damon and he takes it and kisses her knuckles. Her skin is milk-pale. Her hair is as short as Trysta's. She reminds him of a priestess. Perhaps that appeals to some men. "Opeth," she says in a sweet, musical voice. "It is good to meet you Damon, son of Prince Rafus." Her Artemian is flawless.

"My Lady," Damon says. "You know Lyr, I assume."

"I do," Opeth says, smiling at Lyr. "I know him very well."

"I plan to keep this one as part of my household," Atticul says.

Damon looks at Atticul. "The court matchmaker will not be pleased that you have found your own companion."

"Opeth is my concubine, Damon. I am no more planning to marry her than you will marry yours."

"I simply meant that Lady Merin will now have to find you a wife who will take a man who already has a favoured concubine."

"It's not unheard of, Bastard. You will be aware, I am sure, of the relationship between our own father and your dead mother. My future wife will be delighted that I am comforted as I fight for the glory of Azuria." He smiles at Opeth. "And I am sure your wife, will be equally delighted that you have found comfort on the battlefield with this exotic creature here." Atticul pokes Lyr in the belly. A gesture that makes Damon want to hit him.

"Brothers," comes a cry from behind Damon. He turns to see Endrew racing up the docks, he rocks to a halt when he reaches them, out of breath. "Brothers, I am here to bid you farewell before I lead the Imperial Army to the border with Ik-Sundal."

Damon looks at Endrew. His own word might mean nothing in the Imperial Army, but Endrew has always been willing to listen to him. He decides to try, "We should not go to Ik-Sundal yet, Endrew. The men who are not staying here in Jur-Mattan need to return to Azuria. We ought to wait and first see what the Sundals do when we install a Warden and they see us here ruling Jur-Mattan."

"But we must move now," Endrew says. "We have information. A ship left for Ik-Sundal yesterday, we believe Queen Jareleezi escaped with some of the palace's greatest treasures. Selim is keen that we retrieve them."

"Endrew, dear brother," Atticul snaps, "This bastard here resigned his place in the army yesterday. Do not speak to him of such things."

"What danger do you think you are in from me knowing?" Damon says.

"No, Damon, Atticul is right. I am sorry, brother. I spoke without thinking."

Damon considers saying more. But reminds himself that this is no longer his war or his responsibility. The only people in this fight he cares about are Trysta — and she can take care of herself — and Endrew — and Trysta can take care of him. He needs to get home. Home and free. He's been dreaming of this for years. Now it's here. Why is he concerning himself with such trivia as the timing of the campaign in Ik-Sundal?

His time as a soldier is done.

Atticul's magnificent ship is the largest vessel in the Imperial fleet. Damon has to admit she is quite beautiful. Her sails are full and pure white. Her deck furniture all smooth glossy wood. She has room enough in her belly for five hundred men.

A young page meets him and Lyr as they board. "Damon Darekul?" the page says. It is strange how his name sounds without ‘General' ahead of it.

"Yes," Damon says .

"Please come with me. Prince Atticul has asked me to show you to your cabin."

The page leads Damon and Lyr below decks and to one of the cabins towards the back of the ship. When they arrive, it's small. Meanly small. Insultingly small considering Damon was expecting to sail back to Azuria as Captain of his own ship. Certainly not a cabin for a General.

It's a deliberate insult.

Another insult.

"Are you sure this is my cabin?" Damon says to the page.

"Yes, Sire," the page nods. "Prince Atticul was very specific. For you and your companion from King Ramel's harem."

Damon looks at the tiny space again. There's only one bed. A narrow cot built into the wooden wall under a small porthole that shows a view of mostly grey seawater.

"And where is my slave to sleep?"

"With you. I am sorry, Sire, but the Prince was very clear that this cabin was for you and your male pleasure slave, and only one bed was required due to the fact that Zai overlooks any sin committed by soldiers at sea or on foreign soil during wartime."

Damon turns away from the page and walks into the cabin. "I see." Lyr follows him. Damon closes the cabin door and points to a chair. "You. Sit there," he says to Lyr.

Lyr sits down. He hasn't spoken for a long time. Despite the growing Juran heat he is still bundled up in Damon's cloak. He looks small in it. Damon likes the way it swamps him.

"Do you need anything?" Damon says in Juran.

"Perhaps some food," Lyr replies in Artemian. "And I still speak Artemian, Sire. "

This makes Damon smile. He likes this slave. He is enjoying him more and more. He thinks of the night before. This slave, with poetry on his lips. In Artemian, he says, "Stay here. I need to talk to Atticul."

"I don't think it will go any better than it did on the dockside," says Lyr.

Damon ignores this and marches out of the cabin. He stamps back up the steps to the front of the ship and the door of the captain's cabin. He knocks.

Atticul comes to the door and rolls his eyes at Damon. "What now, Bastard? I have much to do making ready for the voyage home."

Damon looks past him. The tall woman sprawls in Atticul's bed, half-dressed.

"I can see you are busy. This will not wait. My cabin is not appropriate. Move me to the front of the ship."

Atticul sighs, "I am sorry. I did not expect you to be on my ship. You left the Imperial Army rather abruptly."

"Don't think I don't see through your pathetic schemes. You want everyone to believe I'm fucking a male pleasure slave on your ship."

"No one is forcing you to fuck him, Damon. You have only your own depravity to blame for what you do with that creature you are so enamoured of."

"You've practically told one of the ship's pages I am going to fuck him. I know what you're doing. You will be speaking to Doroth Zain — accusing me of sins of the body."

"Which Doroth Zain will have to forgive. A soldier is allowed comforts at sea. Even Zai understands the needs of fighting men."

"Don't think I can't see through your plans to create suspicion about me that follows me to Attar."

"I couldn't create them if you weren't what you are, Damon. You're disgusting. You might have fooled Endrew and our father and even the Emperor himself. But you don't fool me, you disgusting luxorite." Atticul looks Damon up and down. "I know what you are. I know exactly what you are."

And he does.

Damon was nineteen when Atticul saw him. He'd been away in the army five years. After the retaking of Pluma-Ferris, he'd been allowed a visit to the Rose Palace in glory. Damon had been so happy to be home. To see his family after so long. And to see Plumillar. The youth who worked in the stables. The youth who had become a beautiful man in the five years Damon had been away.

And Atticul had been watching.

Damon is in a foul mood when he returns to the tiny cabin after a walk around the deck and a visit to the galley failed to calm him. The ship has begun its journey out of the Pellex docks and towards the Mortingale Sea. Lyr is obediently sitting at the table where Damon left him.

Lyr looks up as Damon puts two bowls of fish and cabbage stew, two cups and a jug of ale down on the table. "Eat that," he says. Lyr picks up the spoon and obeys. Damon sits opposite him and starts to eat his own meal. He watches Lyr. The way he moves is rather graceful. The stew makes his lips glisten. The ship rocks gently. After a couple of mouthfuls, Lyr says, "How long is the journey to Azuria?"

"Four, perhaps five nights at sea with fair winds. We are bound for Attar, the capital, on the southern coast."

Lyr nods. "Attar? The biggest city in the world. Is that where you live? "

"It is where I will live. Emperor Selim has given me a manor house. Sanglora. That will be my new home. And yours."

Lyr pauses, thinking, then says, "Emperor Selim is your uncle? And you are the son of the Crown Prince, Rafus, the Emperor's younger brother," Lyr says this knowledgeably. Has he picked this up, or did he know it all along? Damon is unsure, but he is struck by Lyr's brightness. His Artemian is fluent and he speaks Juran and Magaar. No one would waste lessons on a whore. He must simply have a sharp mind.

"Yes."

"You are Prince Rafus's oldest son. Prince Atticul is younger than you?"

"Yes, by half a year and one."

"But you are not a prince."

"No."

"Master, please, I thought…" Lyr frowns. "I thought that in Azuria the oldest brother is of higher rank than the younger. Why are you not your father's heir?"

"Because while the eldest son is the heir of his father, this means the eldest legitimate son. I'm a bastard. Atticul's mother is my father's wife, Princess Ullinor, mine was a whore." He watches Lyr's face as he reacts to this, following Damon's words. Lyr's face is truly like no face Damon has ever seen. The bones of it so fine. He's so delicate. Pretty as a girl. It's so strange to think anyone would consider it a crime to lie with him.

Not a crime here, Damon thinks, unbidden, not a crime for a soldier at sea.

"Why did you grow up in a palace learning Magaar poetry like a Darek Prince if you're the son of a whore?"

"Because the whore's dead," Damon says bluntly. "Died when I was a babe. My father only had one wife then. His first wife, Princess Karo. And they had no children. When I was born I was my father's only child. And the only child of the Darek line. I think he thought he might need me. Turns out he did. But not as an heir."

"He had sons after all. Did he take another wife? You said Atticul's mother was called Princess Ullinor."

"Yes. He married Ullinor not long after my birth. She gave him Atticul. And eventually, Endrew too. There is also a daughter. Princess Ferra. Not that having a legitimate family stopped Rafus fathering bastards all over Azuria before it became a crime."

"He sounds like a selfish man."

"He's selfish, yes. But I think at heart he's good. He never expected his children would end up as the Darek Royal line."

"Because Emperor Selim has no sons, so when he dies his brother, your father, will be Emperor. And so Atticul will be Emperor one day, after your father?" Lyr seems to shiver as he speaks. Clearly, he already has a measure of Atticul's character. "He will not be a good Emperor."

"He is young still, but it seems likely he will be worse than Selim. Selim is a zealot, but he has few cares outside of his devotion to Zai. Atticul has many other agendas." Damon takes another sip of his ale and realises the cup is empty.

"He will not be good for you. If your brother who hates you becomes the Emperor, then what will become of you?"

"I do not know."

"Perhaps it will not happen. Last night, Trysta said there are people who think you should be your father's heir. Perhaps Atticul treats you so because he fears you are a threat to his birthright." Lyr tips his head to one side and thinks. He's finished eating. His bowl, empty .

"That is nonsense. People like to talk, but I am no threat. The law is clear."

"Who would become Emperor after your father if Atticul died? Then would it be you?"

"It would never be me. No matter who died. I am not in the Royal Line. After Atticul the next in line would be Endrew unless Atticul had sons of his own."

"But what if he does not? You said at the docks he was still unmarried. Perhaps he will have no sons like your uncle. What if he dies without issue and Endrew dies too? Then it would be you. It would have to be you."

"No," Damon shakes his head. The ship pitches. Lyr gasps in surprise, toppling sideways in his chair. Damon watches Lyr right himself and Lyr gives Damon a sweetly bashful grin.

"It seems strange they would not look to you. A decorated General with Darek blood. Tall and handsome." Lyr smiles shyly as he says that.

"Lying with my mother was a great sin. For a married man to father a child with a woman who is not his wife is a crime now that Selim is Emperor. My father only avoided the penalty for it when I was born because it happened before the ruling. When Selim became Emperor one of his first acts was to make it so that Zai's laws became the laws of Azuria. My father had managed to father many bastard sons before it was a crime to do so."

Lyr's face cracks into a grin of delight. "So you have more brothers?"

"My father is easily distracted."

Lyr smiles even wider at this. Damon smiles back. After a pause, Lyr says, "Do you ever think that if your mother hadn't died you would have stayed with her and grown up with her? You would never have lived in a palace. "

"Perhaps not. And then I would never have become a soldier."

"Trysta told me you had no choice. You were made to join the army. Was it a punishment? Did you commit a crime?"

Damon shakes his head. "It was complicated." He pauses. He should stop this conversation. It's enjoyable, but too intimate. He barely speaks to anyone like this, except perhaps Trysta. He takes a breath, "Let's talk of something else. Tell me about you. About Klish. I have never been to Klish. What is it like? All I know of is that it is known for magical arts and The Cult of Priam."

And he wants to ask, burns to ask, is everyone in Klish like you? Do they all recite beautiful Magaar poetry in sweet sing-song with their eyes half closed? Do they look like you with fine-boned faces and bright blue eyes and mouths that I want to bury my cock in?

Of course, he does not. Would not dream.

"It is. There are a lot of very great magicians in Klish. But I was not in one of the clans that practise magic."

"Are you Priam? If you are Priam I suggest you keep quiet about it."

"You mean the Cult of Priam? No, I am not one of them. I was raised Artemian. But Priam have many temples on Klish."

"They cause fires in Attar. And start riots."

"I did not know the Cult of Priam had reached Azuria. I did not know anyone spoke of The Legend of Pia and Prim outside of Kilsh."

"It is a crime to be Priam in Azuria."

Lyr smiles sweetly. "What isn't a crime in Azuria?"

Damon catches Lyr's dancing eyes and laughs.

Lyr leans back in his chair. He seems delighted to have made Damon laugh. He sounds relaxed and happy as he says, "I used to see Priam speakers in the market when I was a boy, but I never paid them any attention. Even on Klish, they are seen as crazy. All I know about it, truly, is the Dead Water. At the end of Klish, beyond the last island begins a stretch of sea where no ships can sail. Any ship that tries is sucked down to the bottom of the sea and some say, beyond, into the earth below the sea to the lair of a great monster. A demon. You cannot sail from Fanost or Jur Mattan to Archelia. You cannot cross the Priam Sea. Because of the Dead Water."

Damon remembers talk of this when the invasion of Jur-Mattan was planned. Anyone who suggested sailing from Fanost along the coast to Jur-Mattan was told no, that it was impossible. That Zai would not allow it." He nods. "The Dead Water is where the islands of Pia and Prim were?"

"Yes. If they ever existed, of course. But the Dead Water is where they were meant to be. Before they were sunk a thousand years ago." Lyr shrugs. "That is the legend. The Priam think they are still down there and the people live still."

Damon gazes at Lyr, half-listening, half letting his thoughts idle on what it would feel like to touch him. He knows terrible things must have happened to Lyr in Jur-Mattan or perhaps before that, on Klish. Things that caused those ritualistic scars visible on his arms and legs.

He would do anything to keep this man safe.

This man who makes him laugh. Damon can't think of many people who can make him laugh so easily as Lyr seems to be able to.

He likes to see Lyr laugh too. When that sweet face lights up, he looks truly beautiful. It makes Damon wonder what Lyr would look like when he comes undone.

To see his face change and break with pure pleasure.

His cock stirs at the thought .

"What does it mean exactly?" Lyr says, "Sins of the body?" It catches Damon out of the blue. Did Lyr read his thoughts?

Or does he share them? Is he thinking the same? He is a male pleasure slave. Trained to please his Master. Damon feels something snap tight inside him. The realisation he is falling into Atticul's trap.

"It means being sly," he says. His voice sounds less playful and more sour. "Luxoli. Men lying with men. Women with women. Even desiring such a thing is forbidden."

"And that is a crime against Zai?" Lyr says with a nod. Like he knows these things. Damon wonders if he really does. "Zai is a cruel faith. It has many rules. Many punishments."

"Indeed," says Damon,

"But Zai allows it when you are at sea? On a ship?"

"Zai allows soldiers to take comfort during war when they are not on Azurian soil. He understands life is different in battle. The rules about sins are relaxed. Pleasure slaves and the like are permitted. Even if the soldier is married."

"And even if the pleasure slaves are men?"

"What men do while they are fighting for the glory of the empire is no crime. So long as they win their battles."

"So do you lie with pleasure slaves while you are at war?"

"I do not."

"With men?"

"No." Damon pauses. He isn't sure why he admits this, but he does, "There was one, a few years ago. He's dead."

Lyr nods with a bitten lower lip. "So you are sly as Atticul claims. He wants to use that against you. He's put us in this small cabin with one bed because he is going to make people on this ship think you bedded me whether you actually do or not."

"Yes."

"So," Lyr tips his head to one side, "it would make no difference, would it, if you did?"

"Perhaps. But I will not."

"Do you not wish to?" Lyr holds Damon's gaze.

"That matters not. I do not lie with slaves. My mother was a slave."

Lyr's tongue flickers over his bottom lip. "It's been a long time hasn't it? Since you lay with anyone. I can tell."

This makes Damon shiver. Because it is true. He lay with Inez on their wedding night. But that was a duty, not a pleasure. And other than that, he has been as chaste as a priest of Zai since Merkle died, as chaste as Emperor Selim himself. "I told you," he says, and his voice sounds deep and heavy. "I do not lie with slaves."

"I think that is correct, but simply because you do not lie with anyone. "

And that's it. That's enough. That is far too far down a dangerous road for Damon's liking. Far too close to giving Atticul what he wants. He feels shaky all over. He stands up so suddenly Lyr jumps.

"I will leave you," he says. His voice, that had been soft, almost amused only a few moments ago, is a hard snap. "I do not wish to spend the whole voyage sitting in this cabin."

Damon wonders if it is obvious that this is a lie.

He owns Lyr. Sweet, funny, defiant Lyr, with his sharp mind and eerie beauty. He's aboard a ship, beyond the reach of Azurian law. He could bed him. He could.

He won't.