by Ginn Hale
“I realize you weren’t expecting me and I don’t want to cause all the trouble of preparing another room,” he explained more for the servant’s sake than to convince Javier.
“Of course, you won’t have to spend the night on the floor in my room. This isn’t the academy, after all.” The frustration in Javier’s voice was palpable. “The green room should do. It’s near the library.”
Javier took his leave and the servant led Kiram on a brief tour of the townhouse. Most of the huge structure was closed up. Furniture was covered, carpets rolled away and fireplaces had been cleaned and sealed up to keep out bats. Nothing was so unkempt as to seem abandoned but a sense of emptiness pervaded the house. Entire suites seemed like preserved historical specimens.
At one time the building had to have been inhabited by more than just staff. Once the Tornesal family had occupied the halls and numerous entertaining rooms. Someone had played the harpsichord in the music room and no doubt many members of the family had sat at the card table.
But now Javier was left alone with this edifice of a house and its huge, desperately attentive staff, who occupied themselves obsessively with the vast minutiae of sweeping, dusting and polishing every surface of the place.
Kiram glanced to the hollow-faced saint chiseled over a stone doorway and absently thought that he’d been told about that particular style of sculpture. Had it ended just before King Nazario’s death? He couldn’t remember.
He was escorted to the second floor past the library to the green room, which turned out to be a large suite with slit windows that overlooked a small herb garden. The bed was hard and cold, but the deep green linens on it smelled freshly laundered. There was a bath and Kiram used it.
Afterwards he was loath to dress in his old clothes. Instead he wrapped a towel around his waist and lay back on the bed. A fire blazed in the hearth and Kiram stared up a the ceiling, feeling troubled and at the same time too exhausted to do more than lie there and watch the shadows dance above him.
His arm hurt. His head ached. He closed his eyes and if he slept he didn’t dream, but when he opened his eyes the room had darkened. Outside, he could hear rain falling.
“We should run away,” Kiram murmured to himself.
“Where would we go?” a quiet voice responded. Javier leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, skin luminous in the dim, golden light. He’d washed recently and his hair was glossy black.
Kiram asked, “How long have you been there?”
“Not too long.” Javier sounded weary. “I was enjoying the view.”
“You should have woken me up.” A slight breeze fluttered through the room and suddenly he became aware that the towel must have slipped off his hips. Javier watched, with a smile as Kiram reached for but did not replace the towel. He felt a confusing mixture of embarrassment and pleasure at being so ardently observed. Then he heard someone clomping up the stairs and quickly covered himself.
“My valet, bringing clothes for you to wear to dinner,” Javier explained.
A moment later, an old man bowed past Javier and laid out the suit of fresh clothes. The pants, jacket and vest were all Tornesal black but not servant’s dress. Silver threads decorated the silk vest and the white shirt was flawless linen. The trousers were silk as were the stockings. The clothes fit him decently, but had obviously belonged to someone with broader shoulders and thicker thighs.
Javier watched him dress and the valet waited, pretending to watch nothing. But when Kiram caught the older man’s gaze flicker to Javier’s face and then to Kiram’s own body, he missed a button of the vest and had to unbutton it and start again.
“These clothes are much too nice. They look like they belonged to a prince,” Kiram said, as if it were an excuse for his flustered clumsiness.
Javier replied, “They’re too small for me anymore. And they suit you.”
The valet gave Javier a narrow, disapproving glance, as if he felt that the clothes would have been better suited for a pig to wear than Kiram.
If Javier noticed the look, he paid no attention to it. “Tornesal black is drab on most men but you make it seem magnificent.”
The valet lowered his eyes, apparently engrossed in the marble floor.
Kiram couldn’t believe that Javier would say such a thing while another man was standing in the room with them. Was he drunk?
Javier swaggered forward to brush some minuscule speck of dust off Kiram’s shoulder and gave him a smile. “Now that you’re suitably attired, shall we go down to dinner, Underclassman Kiram?”
The ebony inlayed dinner table had clearly been made for gatherings of more than a dozen diners. Even sitting across from Javier, the width of the table made it impossible to whisper to him. And yet, Kiram didn’t dare to raise his voice in front of the constant stream of servants that circulated between the kitchen and the table.
They brought small, exquisite foods in ornate dishes. Kiram sampled tender cutlets of veal, rich cream sauces and sharp greens served with fragrant orange and lemon dressing. The food was delicious and yet Kiram hardly ate more than a few bites. Javier ate nothing; he drank a milky, white liqueur from a cut crystal glass and watched Kiram.
“Aren’t you hungry?” Kiram asked.
“I’m not as interested in food as I am in getting drunk.”
“You shouldn’t,” Kiram said.
“Maybe not, but I’m going to if I can.”
“I need to talk to you.” Kiram couldn’t help but lower his voice.
“So, talk,” Javier said.
A servant slid a plate of pork loin medallions and blood orange segments in front of Kiram. Another servant removed the bowl of soup that Kiram had hardly tasted. A third refilled Javier’s glass. Their relentless attention made Kiram uncomfortable. Any of them could be spies for Prince Nugalo or his man on the hill.
“I don’t trust these servants,” Kiram said in Haldiim. He scanned the men’s faces for any sign that they understood his words. Most of them seemed to take no notice at all. Only the man refilling Javier’s glass seemed to be listening and he just looked confused. Emboldened, Kiram continued, “I need to tell you what I found out about the curse that’s been placed on your family.”
“All right, tell me.” Javier pronounced his words slowly. His accent was very strong, but Kiram was delighted to see that his suspicion about Javier’s fluency in Haldiim had been correct.
“My uncle’s partner and several other Bahiim tracked the Tornesal curse down to the academy. Someone there is using the shadow of an ancient Haldiim curse called the Old Rage to destroy your family. They think it’s an agent of the royal bishop’s—”
“Slow down. You’re talking too fast for me,” Javier said in Cadeleonian.
“A man at the Sagrada Academy is responsible for the curse. The Bahiim think he’s an agent for the royal bishop, probably Holy Father Habalan.” Kiram spoke as clearly and evenly as he could.
Javier seized his glass and swallowed what remained of the milky white liqueur within. When he set the glass down, the servant refilled it again.
“Is your uncle taking you away because of me?” Javier asked at last.
“Yes,” Kiram admitted.
“Does you uncle’s partner know how to lift the curse?”
“Maybe…” Kiram gazed at his dish of pork and the dark blood oranges. “But the Bahiim can’t interfere. They have to be invited to do so by the royal bishop.”
Javier laughed at this but in a hard, angry way.
“So, it’s hopeless,” Javier said in Cadeleonian. “You’re leaving me and it’s hopeless.”
“We could go to Yuan.” Kiram couldn’t keep the slight quaver of fear out of his voice. He had no idea how they would get there or how they would survive, but if Javier said yes, then he would go. He’d go tonight.
Javier’s dark eyes glittered like polished obsidian. Then he bowed his head and his black hair fell over his face.
“I can’t leave Fedeles.” Jav
ier drained his glass. “And it wouldn’t matter if I did, because the curse would follow me. Your uncle is probably right. You will be better off in Anacleto.”
“No, I won’t,” Kiram snapped.
“Yes, you will,” Javier said it like it was an order. He slammed his glass against the table. The servant poured the last of the liqueur into his glass and Javier swallowed it like medicine then stood up slowly, swaying on his feet. “Well, it looks like I managed to get drunk after all. It’s not easy, you know. The white hell burns the alcohol out of my body like a poison. It never lasts long enough.” Javier absently ran his finger along the rim of his empty glass. “It never lasts.”
Something in Javier’s tone alarmed Kiram. He pushed his plate aside and rushed to Javier’s side.
“Are you all right?”
“Not really, no.” Javier leaned against him and draped an arm over Kiram’s shoulder. The heat of his body radiated through Kiram’s clothes. “I’m blind drunk and talking to myself. The least you could do is offer to take me to my bed, don’t you think?”
Kiram didn’t miss the hunger in Javier’s voice, nor did he think that it was a coincidence that Javier got drunk enough to need help getting to bed.
“Should I summon the footmen to assist His Lordship?” a servant asked.
“No,” Kiram answered. “I’ll take him. Thank you.”
Javier directed him to the master bedroom, which had the requisite spells inlayed in the floor. He stepped over them without concern and propped Javier up on the curtained bed.
“Close the door,” Javier said quietly.
Kiram closed it and locked it. When he returned, Javier had already pulled off his jacket and was unbuttoning his shirt. His motions were fluid and graceful.
“You’re not drunk at all, are you?” It seemed unbelievable, considering that he’d emptied an entire bottle in less than an hour.
“A little, but it’ll burn off in a couple of minutes.” Javier threw his shirt aside. He reached out and pulled Kiram close to him. “Stay with me tonight.”
A rush of excitement surged through Kiram at the feel of Javier’s hands finally on him. They might never have this chance again. He had already wasted so much of the time he had with Javier.
Kiram slid his arms around Javier’s bare back, feeling the heat of his skin and the taut muscles beneath. Javier was so tense that he was almost trembling. He stared at Kiram, his dark eyes wide, his lips slightly parted. Kiram leaned in and kissed him. The taste of anise and alcohol passed from Javier’s lips to Kiram’s, the sensation both sweet and hot.
Kiram traced the tip of his tongue over Javier’s lips. Javier’s mouth opened to him and the heat of Javier’s tongue touched and stroked his, the sensation soft and hard at once. The thrusts aroused a deep pang in Kiram’s body.
As the kiss deepened, Javier’s hands slipped under Kiram’s shirt, stroking the small of his back, working against his belt. Kiram pulled back from the kiss, breaking them apart, though all he wanted was more. Breathlessly, Kiram pulled off his jacket, vest and shirt. Javier’s hands caught the heavy buckle that held Kiram’s belt closed. A tight ache pulsed through him as Javier removed the belt and began unfastening the pearl buttons of Kiram’s pants.
Javier was so close that Kiram could feel his breath brush over every inch of his newly exposed flesh. As Javier’s lips grazed the tender skin of Kiram’s hip, heat and desire flooded Kiram’s groin. He ached to pull Javier’s mouth to him, but the tremor in Javier’s hands made Kiram aware of how unfamiliar this must be for Javier. No doubt whores had gone down on their knees and pleased him but Kiram couldn’t imagine Javier ever kneeling on the floor before another man.
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” Javier touched a curl of Kiram’s blond pubic hair then slowly cupped Kiram’s hot erection, his touch careful but not tentative. He bowed his head and took Kiram into his mouth. Waves of ecstasy rolled over Kiram, and he had to fight to keep his senses, to gently run his hands through Javier’s hair and not grasp him too tightly or thrust hard into that wet heat.
When Javier drew back, catching his breath, Kiram almost swore out of frustrated longing. But Javier’s hopeful expression touched Kiram even more deeply than his passion.
“Am I doing this right?” Javier asked.
“You’re perfect,” Kiram replied and it wasn’t entirely a lie. What Javier lacked in experience he made up for with sheer desire. Kiram drew in a deep breath, wishing he could think clearly. All he wanted at that moment was his own satisfaction, but that was hardly fair to Javier. If this was his first time making love to another man then it ought to be more than this.
“Come to the bed,” Kiram forced himself to step back. “The floor is too cold.”
Despite the aching need pounding through his body, Kiram waited for Javier to completely undress and join him on the bed.
Javier was beautiful naked. Kiram had known as much for months but now the physical reality of it riveted him. The whiteness of Javier’s skin allowed him to see even the minute pink blush that spread across his cheeks and colored his tight nipples. Javier’s erection jutted up, straight and shockingly scarlet.
He watched Kiram intently and there was something in the way that his natural poise tempered his uncertainty so that even now he seemed proud.
“Lie here close to me,” Kiram said.
They touched experimentally, stroking one another’s skin, feeling the curves of ribs and the tension of muscles. Every nerve in Kiram’s body craved contact. Even the softest caress of Javier’s fingertips shot through him, down deep into his loins.
Kiram felt his breath coming too fast, his control slipping away as Javier stroked him. Kiram caught Javier’s hand and lifted it away from his thigh. Javier looked momentarily worried, but his expression relaxed as Kiram kissed each of his fingers.
Kiram leaned forward, kissed his lips once gently and then flipped around so that his head rested against Javier’s hip. He kissed Javier’s flat stomach. Javier’s breath caught and his muscles tightened in anticipation. Slowly Kiram took Javier’s erection in his mouth. Javier gasped, his entire body flexing into Kiram.
Kiram gripped Javier’s hips firmly, reminding him, almost as he would have reminded Firaj, that he would set their pace. Javier responded immediately, restraining his powerful thrusts.
Kiram pressed his own body closer to Javier’s and a moment later Javier seemed to realize the opportunity the position offered. He tentatively nuzzled Kiram. The teasing brush of his breath, the contact and withdrawal of his lips drove Kiram half mad. But he waited for Javier to take him in his mouth again.
Javier’s lips were soft, his tongue teasing, and his mouth hot and velvety. He echoed Kiram’s hungry pressure, taking him slowly, but deeply. Their bodies rocked in a mounting rhythm. Kiram gave up control over his own driving thrusts and Javier’s.
A desperate pleasure flooded Kiram. He could feel nothing but Javier, both in him and on him. The smell of him, the taste of him, the voracious heat of his mouth, sang through Kiram, engulfing his senses. He wanted more of Javier and yet he could hardly bear the wild shocks of ecstasy pounding through him.
Just as Kiram felt his senses burning beyond his endurance, Javier arched hard into him and a hot gush of semen spilled into Kiram’s mouth. Kiram’s own pleasure peaked with the exhilaration of taking so much of Javier’s passion and control, feeling it surge into him and become his own, bursting into Javier’s mouth.
Kiram rolled back, flopping against the ivory sheets. His heart pounded wildly. Heat radiated from Javier’s body. While they both lay on the bed in spent silence, Javier’s breathing slowed and grew steady. Kiram was suddenly aware of the sweat clinging to his skin. He shoved a damp coil of hair back from his face.
The dying fire in the hearth cast deep gold shadows across the room. Kiram stared up at the ceiling, watching the way the light flickered over the black invocations chiseled into the stones above, then he propped hi
mself up onto his elbows and gazed at Javier, who lay with his eyes closed. He wore a deeply thoughtful expression as he slowly lifted his hand to touch his own flushed lips. Then he opened his eyes, studying Kiram’s face intently, worried.
When Kiram smiled at him, overwhelming relief flooded Javier’s expression. He pulled Kiram into a hard embrace.
Kiram held on with all his strength. “I’m not going to leave you. I won’t.”
“Of course you will. That’s why you’re here now giving me something to remember you by.”
“No.” Kiram withdrew only far enough to see Javier’s face and Javier let him go. It had been Kiram’s intention to have this night as a farewell but now that he had been so close to Javier he couldn’t imagine letting him go so easily.
Javier didn’t meet his eyes.
“You’ll be safe with your family in Anacleto.” Javier sat up and swung his legs off the bed, turning his back to Kiram.
“I don’t care where I might be safe,” Kiram growled. He grabbed Javier’s shoulder. “I’m not leaving.”
“How can you stay if your family decides to take you back to Anacleto?”
“I’ll run away,” Kiram decided. “I’ll find somewhere to stay here and I’ll work.”
“No one in Zancoda is going to board or employ a runaway, underage Haldiim.” Javier gently pushed a lock of Kiram’s hair back from his face. “And even if someone did—if I kept you here—your family would find you. You don’t exactly blend in with the populace of the city.”
Kiram knew Javier was right, but he didn’t care. He wrapped his arms around Javier, holding him tightly and then finally drawing him back down into the warmth of the bed.
The chain of Kiram’s charm tangled with Javier’s medallion and for a moment they occupied themselves working the two apart. For the first time Kiram noticed that the design of Javier’s medallion, which he’d always thought was a sun, resembled the circle of lotus petals embossed into the face of his own charm.
