Felix laughed. “No procurement necessary. I’ll be the slave.”
Beside him, Torsten groaned. “You’re not pretending to be a slave.”
“I don’t know,” Audrey said, straightening in her chair. “It’s not a bad plan.” The queen scowled at her, but she met the look head on. “It’s not a bad plan at all. And we could station eyes and ears inside the tavern before Malcolm arrives to witness the whole thing, so it would be perfectly safe. And he’s never seen Felix, so he won’t recognize him.”
“And you think Malcolm would want to buy Felix?” the queen asked in disgust.
“Not buy him,” Audrey answered coolly. “Just sample the product, like he said. So all we need now is for someone to play the bandit.”
“I’m doing it,” Torsten insisted. “No way am I letting Felix go on his own.”
“You can’t do it,” Felix said firmly. “There’s no way Malcolm wouldn’t recognize his own son.”
“I can do it,” Torsten argued. “I’ve been to that tavern. The lighting is horrible. I can comb my hair into my face, borrow some clothes and a hat—”
“No,” Audrey interrupted. “It’s too risky. We’ll have one of your bandits do it.”
“What bandits?” the queen demanded. “There are more bandits near here?”
“Only the ten upstairs,” Audrey answered. “But no worries, Bellamy. We’re keeping their savagery and lust in check with hot baths and plates of roasted chicken.” Now Felix understood why she’d wanted the upstairs occupants to be so quiet. She’d wanted to deliver the shocking news of their presence to Bellamy herself. Honestly, Felix was such a fan.
“Felix,” Torsten said, ignoring the hissed curses being hurled at Audrey by the queen. “Do you really feel comfortable posing as a slave and being pretend-sold to Malcolm?”
“I’m good at pretending subservience,” he replied proudly. “I can make him admit he wants to buy me. I know I can.” It was a shameful part to play, but Felix wasn’t above it, because he knew it would help. And he wanted, more than anything, to help Torsten.
“You’re certain?”
“I am.”
Torsten took a deep breath. “I’m in,” he said. “But only if I’m there. I’ll stay in the shadows and in disguise, but I have to be there. All right?”
Felix smiled, imagining all the different ways Merric would have refused him, and there was Torsten, asking Felix for his permission. “Yes, of course it’s all right. I’ll feel better knowing you’re there.”
“Good,” Torsten said. “Then we have a plan.” He looked to the queen. “Assuming it’s acceptable to you, Your Majesty?”
Felix caught her gaze and held it, trying to convey with his eyes that anything other than a positive response from her would mean trouble from him. She seemed surprised by the steady eye contact, and discomforted, and perhaps it was that very discomfort that pushed her into nodding in agreement, if only so she could turn away from his threatening stare.
“I cannot believe Malcolm is what you say he is,” she said, rising. “But I will allow this test of character to determine it, one way or the other.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Felix said.
“You’re welcome,” she replied, but her voice was anything but warm. She turned her eyes to Torsten, studying him, and Felix began to second think the lyrics he’d considered about her eyes. They didn’t look like honey at all now; they looked more like the sludge sometimes found in empty bottles of cheap whiskey. “I suggest now would be a good time to choose and prepare your bandit. Audrey, escort Torsten upstairs, where, apparently, his entire bandit horde is lying in wait.”
Audrey stood, but when Felix made to rise, Bellamy stopped him with a raised hand. “I’d like a private word.”
Felix swallowed hard, then looked at Torsten with a nod. “Of course, Your Majesty,” he said, sitting back down.
The queen waited until Audrey and Torsten left, then refilled her glass, sat, and lifted it to Felix. “To your health,” she toasted, and Felix clinked his barely touched glass with hers before taking another sip. The whiskey felt warm all the way down.
“Thank you for agreeing to this, Your Majesty,” he began, but the queen just laughed at him drily.
“Enough with the niceties, please. I can imagine what you might have felt compelled to reveal had I refused to cooperate,” she said as Felix blushed. “Your gumption has grown exponentially since our last meeting, and I cannot yet decide whether I like this version of you better.”
“I like this version better,” Felix admitted.
“I suppose that’s what counts,” she granted. “We should all strive to be happy with ourselves, whether others approve or not. But it does seem you have gained Torsten’s approval.”
“I hope so,” Felix replied with a shy smile. “He certainly has gained mine.”
“Has he?” Bellamy asked, tilting her head. “Truly? Do you honestly prefer having an arrogant bastard share your bed instead of a gentleman like Merric? Or is the bastard threatening you in some fashion? You can tell me, Felix. I will see you protected.”
“No,” Felix said, shaking his head. “There are no threats, Your Majesty. Torsten cares for me, and I for him. Merric will always be dear to me, and will always be my friend, but we weren’t right together. Perhaps it’s because Torsten is a bastard that we’re better suited, seeing as I’m one myself. As for being arrogant, I don’t really see it, but I suppose you would be a far better judge of that than I.”
Bellamy stiffened, then shook her head and smiled. “Fair enough. Well played.”
Her choice of words sparked his own. “The flute!” he exclaimed with sudden excitement. “You must tell me more about its magic! I was only able to make it work a few times, but the things it was capable of! I’m afraid it’s been stolen by pirates, but the pirate who took it is Audrey’s brother, so I’m sure she could get it back. I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave a magic flute in the hands of a pirate, no matter who his sister is. Not a good idea at all.”
Bellamy blinked, frazzled by Felix’s animated speech. “I’m not following,” she said slowly. “Did you say ‘magic flute’?”
“Yes,” Felix said. “The flute you gifted me, the heirloom, the magic flute.”
“I’m confused.” She touched a finger to her temple as if to rub away a sudden headache. “The flute I gave you was old and valuable, but it wasn’t magic. Are you drunk?” She frowned at his half-full glass of whiskey. “You are rather small. Maybe you’ve had too much to drink.”
Felix sat absolutely still. The queen was not the only one confused. “But I played the flute and an entire camp of bandits fell asleep,” he said. “I played it again and a ship filled with pirates fell unconscious. And a bandit king decided to keep me as his personal flautist because of the flute’s magic.”
“Bandit king?” Bellamy asked before letting out an exasperated sigh. “Let’s be serious now, shall we? That flute was crafted generations ago and you’re hardly the first to play it. Do you really believe, had there been reports of it having magical powers, I would have given it to you? There’s no such thing as a magic flute, Felix, outside of tavern tales and children’s stories.”
Flustered, he felt himself nodding along as if he understood. “I must be mistaken,” he heard himself say, though he knew he was not. “It’s been a long day. A long few days, actually,” he said. “Perhaps that bit of whiskey did go to my head.”
“You’ve endured much,” the queen agreed sympathetically. “And tomorrow you will endure more. You’d best retire for the night.” She looked at him with genuine concern, and all it did was embarrass Felix further.
He stood and bowed clumsily. “Then I’ll excuse myself, Your Majesty, by your leave.”
“Good night, Felix,” she said in return. “Sleep well.”
His head was swimming as he left Bellamy in the parlor. He swept past the servants waiting outside the door, hurried down the hall and through the door
s into the main room. At the top of the stairs, he heard Torsten’s voice and followed it. One of the many doors had been left ajar, and he stopped, peeking in. Inside was an unfurnished room lit only by a row of short candles. Standing in the center of the bare space were Audrey, Torsten, and Selon. Felix nudged his way past the door, the smell of fresh paint filling his nostrils.
Torsten crossed to him immediately, a frown creasing his forehead. “You look pale,” he said in a hushed voice just for Felix.
“I’m tired. And quite possibly insane,” Felix confessed with a frustrated sigh.
Torsten’s frown intensified, but when Felix shook his head in dismissal, he let it drop. Taking his hand, he led him to the others. “We have our bandit,” he said, nodding at Selon. “We just need to get her a leather cape so Malcom won’t doubt she’s one of Gethrin’s.”
“I can have one made tonight,” Audrey assured, “if you’ll come with me to the queen’s tailor and describe what it should look like.”
Selon nodded. “It would be my pleasure.”
Audrey looked Selon over with a pleased expression before cutting her gaze to Felix. “Any special requests for your slave clothes? Do you know anything specific about how they might be dressed?”
Felix sighed and looked to Torsten tiredly. “Unfortunately, yes, but I’d rather not appear in a public tavern jingling, with my bare backside on display.”
Torsten rubbed a hand soothingly over his back. “Have them make something alluring, but not too revealing,” he told Audrey. “But the bells, I believe, are expected. Better have small ones attached to the laces.”
Audrey looked questioningly at Felix until he nodded his concurrence. “I’ll see what we can do.” She motioned for Selon to follow her, then stopped in the doorway. “There’s a bed,” she said, “right through there.” She pointed to a nondescript door near the back corner of the room. “Sorry about this. We aren’t quite up to speed on getting all the bedrooms refurnished, and we’ve been using this one for practice. Try to get some rest. I’ll tell the servants not to bother you.”
“Thanks,” Felix said.
“Be careful with Selon,” Torsten told Audrey. “I’ll be wanting her back.”
Audrey rolled her eye.
“Don’t worry about me, King,” Selon said with a wink. “See you in the morning.”
As soon as the women closed the door behind them, Felix collapsed into Torsten’s chest and wrapped his arms around his neck. Torsten hugged him gently, kissing his head, then picked up a candle and walked with his arm around him to the door. Inside was a small bed and side table—a place to rest after training—and the mattress felt heavenly as Torsten laid him down on it. Fit for a king.
“You don’t have to be the slave,” Torsten said as he pulled off Felix’s boots. “Any of the others can do it. Dot was especially eager to volunteer.”
“It’s not that,” Felix sighed, shaking his head to dislodge the image of Dot with bare buttocks and jingly boots. He propped up on his elbows and watched as Torsten undressed and then climbed onto the bed to begin loosening the ties of Felix’s trousers. Despite his worry for his sanity, he couldn’t ignore the rush of arousal that coursed through him at having a naked Torsten remove his clothes. When he’d peeled the trousers from his legs, Felix sighed at the cool air on his skin, followed by the brush of Torsten’s lips on his thigh.
“Tired?” Torsten asked with a pompously arched brow.
“Supposedly,” Felix responded breathily, his own fingers already working to unlace the ties down the front of his leather top. “Bellamy said the flute isn’t magical.” He slid the garment off his shoulders and sprawled naked on the bed. He didn’t know how Vivid and Audrey managed to wear so much tight leather. It looked good, yes, but it made everything sticky with sweat. It was a relief to be out of it.
“Well, that’s probably because magic flutes don’t exist,” Torsten said, moving to lie beside him.
“How can you say that? You saw what that flute could do!” Felix protested, turning to face him and trying to keep his eyes from wandering too long over the length of his bare body.
“No. I saw what you could do,” Torsten said, running his hand over Felix’s hip.
“No,” Felix insisted. “The flute has to be magical, because if it isn’t, that means I was the one making those things happen, and that doesn’t make any sense.”
“I told you that you were more than just a flautist,” Torsten said, his voice deepening as he pulled Felix closer.
“But I’m not magical,” Felix argued, letting himself be coaxed forward until their bodies were flush.
“We live in a world with elementals,” Torsten whispered, quite rationally for a man who was simultaneously propping Felix’s thigh over his hip and kneading his ass. “Is it so hard to believe you’re touched by the extraordinary?” He smoothed his hand up Felix’s back and brought their mouths together for a deep kiss.
Felix sighed, pushing against Torsten’s hips and trying to ignore the sensation in his chest that was telling him Torsten was right. Flautists who could magically influence people were flautists who had songs and stories written about them. And that wasn’t Felix. He was completely ordinary. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the touch of the extraordinary as Torsten moved him onto his back and spread his thighs wide.
19 - Honey Trap
Felix slept heavily and dreamed little, his eyes opening to the small room’s only window, through which he could see the pale blue sky of early dawn. He was wrapped around Torsten, in the same position he’d adopted before conking out, completely on top of him, his head on Torsten’s chest and his legs straddling his hips. Beneath him, Torsten was still sleeping, and Felix took advantage, rolling off and onto his side to examine his face. All remnants of charcoal had been washed from his eyes during yesterday’s bath, allowing Felix to see the skin around his lids without streaks of black. His eyebrows rested in a furrow-free line above his eyes, a bit wild and disorderly, just like the man.
Felix traced the straight line of his nose with a delicate fingertip, then pressed gently at the plush give of his lips. He felt the strong jaw beneath the thick scruff of beard, then roamed down the hard planes of his chest. All the while, in his head, he composed, the notes coming to him freely, as if they’d been there all along, waiting for a chance to come together in an order that made sense. Aloud, he hummed the melody until Torsten’s eyes fluttered open.
“Watching me sleep, Flautist?” he asked, his voice rough with the early hour.
“Yes,” Felix readily admitted, with none of the shyness he might have once felt. “You’re an attractive sleeper.”
“Hmm.” Torsten turned his head on the pillow, his eyes falling closed again. “You were humming something. What was the tune?”
“Something new,” Felix replied, snatching up Torsten’s hand as it began to wander down his stomach. “I’ll play it for you when it’s finished.”
Torsten cracked open his eyes and assessed him. “I look forward to it.” He yawned, stretching his arms and sitting up. His hair was mussed from sleep, and Felix took pleasure in smoothing it down with his fingers. “Are you ready for today?” Torsten asked, trying to hide the gravity in his tone, but failing to keep it from his eyes.
“I should be asking you that question,” Felix answered. “All I have to do is play dress up. You’re the one whose reputation is on the line.”
“It’s not on the line,” Torsten said. “It’s in your hands, and that’s where I trust it to be.” He kissed Felix chastely on the mouth. “I’m not doing this for my reputation, you know,” he added after a moment. “I don’t care what the nobles or the queen think of me. This is about stopping Malcolm.”
Felix idled lazily in the moment, running his fingers through Torsten’s thick hair and admiring the flecks of icy blue in his eyes. “I know,” he agreed. “We’ll stop him.”
Torsten nodded, as if actually reassured by Felix’s words. “Let’s find you
r leathery friend and see what costumes she’s concocted, shall we?” He removed himself reluctantly from the bed and began to dress. “I wonder if there’s any good tea around here?” he murmured as he pulled on his boots. “I could do with a cup of good tea.”
They did find tea in the dining room downstairs, but whether or not it was up to Torsten’s standards would remain a mystery, as he didn’t say. He remained silent throughout breakfast, sipping at his dainty teacup and nibbling at triangles of buttered toast, waving off the servants who offered a variety of eggs, meats, fruits, and cheeses. Felix found himself with a similar lack of appetite, though he did partake of some bacon. Audrey seemed the only one in the mood for abundant food and conversation, relaying the details of her trip to the tailor’s between continual, hearty bites.
The queen was nowhere in sight, but Felix had a hunch she’d spent the night, if the self-satisfied expression on Audrey’s face was any indication. But it was fortunate that Bellamy had decided not to join them for breakfast, given that Torsten’s “horde”, having been reprieved from hiding quietly in their rooms, made their appearance just as Felix began his second cup. He heard the excited clamor of ten boisterous bandits long before they reached the dining room, and when they were ushered in the door, it grew even louder, in anticipation of yet another fine culinary experience. Selon stood at the head of them, wearing a confident smile.
She was already dressed in her costume for the day, and Felix was startled to see her in the long leather cape and crudely cut attire beneath. She had even taken care to dirty her face more than usual and ruffle her rust-bucket curls into a feral tousle. Altogether, it was as if one of Gethrin’s bandits had suddenly manifested in the dining room and was reaching for a slice of Felix’s toast.
Marilyn, Dot, and the others, each of them squeaky clean and some of them newly clean-shaven, took seats at the long table, and the servants began feeding them with an immediacy that made Felix think Audrey must have had words with them beforehand. Each member of the horde wore freshly laundered clothes, and some wore new items, as well—mainly leather bodices and leggings provided by Audrey. As Felix looked around at their excited, happy faces, he couldn’t help but smile. It was amazing to be surrounded by people he’d once found so frightening, but who now provided such comfort and joy with their company.
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