by Megan Derr
It might all come tumbling down when Jader returned home and found out Kamir was pregnant, but he was still clinging to the hope that Jader would not be as rigid about such matters as the rest of the High Court. His fingers twitched, but he refrained from touching the slight bump at his stomach.
Instead he folded the letter and tucked it back in the envelope. Slipping that into an inner pocket of his jacket, he finished his tea and stood. "I believe I will go lie down now. Thank you again for coming with me."
"It's an honor to serve, my lord," Charlaine said. "Come, I'll escort you to your room so I know where it is and can familiarize myself with the layout of the house."
Kamir nodded. "As you wish, though I still don't see what sort of threat I'd face out here. My ex-husband has never been that ambitious or hard-working."
"He strikes me as desperate, though, and that can drive even the kindest person to do terrible things. When they start out terrible…" Charlaine shrugged one shoulder. "The results are often tragic. Nothing like that will happen on my watch."
Kamir simply nodded again.
Out in the hall, Kamir asked a passing servant where he should go. Instead she requested he wait one moment, turned on her heel, and vanished right back through the door she'd just walked through. Before Kamir could react, Heti appeared. "You've excellent timing, my lord. I was just informed your room is ready and was about to come find you in the parlor. I am sorry it wasn't ready upon your arrival, but the room we had prepared proved to be incorrect, and then it took longer than we anticipated to get the new room ready. I am extremely sorry."
Incorrect? How could it be incorrect? One guest room was much like another. "There's no reason to be sorry," Kamir replied as he walked alongside her up a grand staircase and along a mezzanine to a smaller staircase that led down a wide, quiet hallway lined with lush plants and beautiful landscapes. The floor was covered in rugs of oceanic tones, giving the hallway the air of a seaside cabin.
It ended in a beautiful set of double doors carved with merfolk and other fanciful oceanic beings and creatures. If Chiri saw those doors, she would gawk at them for hours and try to trace every last line. Even Chara would be entranced, and the ocean did not usually interest him overmuch. "What is this?"
"Your room, my lord." Smiling, Heti pushed the doors open and led the way inside. "Lord Jader was quite insistent you be made comfortable in the master suite. That is why we were late. We had to get this room ready and it's been shut up for years. The previous lord did not use it. He and his spouse preferred different rooms at the other end of the house." She clasped her hands in front of her as she turned to face him. "I hope it meets with your approval, but if anything is wanting, let me know and the matter will be resolved promptly."
"It's beautiful," Kamir said softly. The whole place looked like an underwater palace from a storybook. It reminded him also of Jader's suite in Harkenesten. Jader would love the room when he saw it, all the glass and color, the aquariums filled with decorative fish and plants—he'd probably replace those with real plants and animals.
The bed was large and oval, surrounded by white and silver netting, built into a raised dais that required steps. The headboard resembled the doors with its carvings, save it was scattered with little glass globes of water filled with more glass fish.
If ever a room had been made for Jader, it was this one. Allen and Sarrica had known what they were about in giving the Kyrmine title to him, no matter how much Jader had protested.
Kamir felt like the worst sort of interloper standing there, and it was all the worse that Jader had ordered it to be so. When he learned of what Kamir was hiding, he would likely regret his generosity and be sorry he'd ever trusted Kamir.
"Everything is perfect," he said, smiling at Heti. "You and your staff are beyond wonderful. Thank you very much."
Heti preened slightly before dipping into a bow. "We're honored to serve. Your belongings have been unpacked. If you need anything, simply ring. Did you want dinner prepared?"
"Yes, I think so," Kamir said. "Nothing too elaborate, though. I do not want to put the staff to any trouble."
"No trouble at all, my lord. Dinner is at ten, then. I'll send someone to wake you in time to dress if you do not wake before then."
She and Charlaine departed, leaving Kamir alone. He stared helplessly around the room. It was only going to be for a few days. Surely Jader wouldn't mind too much, when he learned of the baby and the decree.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Kamir crossed the room to the doors on the far side. The first proved to be a wash room, complete with the running water that Sarrica wanted installed in Harkenesten. The project was perpetually delayed by the council, who argued about the cost, though everyone knew it was more to do with their own laziness and the fact the construction would inconvenience them for a few months, never mind the long-term convenience that would result.
The second door proved to be the dressing room—a dressing room nearly the size of his old bedroom back in Harkenesten. His tiny collection of clothes looked lost amidst all the emptiness. Given what he'd seen of Jader's clothes and jewels and shoes, this room was yet more evidence Kyrmine finally had the right lord.
He removed his travel clothes and set them aside to be laundered, and pulled on a soft, warm sleeping gown. He trailed his fingers over his stomach, helpless against imagining for the thousandth time what sort of child would be born. Would they want to be a boy? A girl? Something in between or neither? Hopefully they would be a strong and healthy child, maybe with Jader's pretty eyes or that beautiful dark hair. Maybe Kamir's skin, though, so they'd hold up a little better in sunshine when playing on the beach…
He picked up his discarded jacket and pulled out the pocket watch he'd mistakenly left there—and then remembered the letters and pulled them out as well. Leaving the dressing room, he walked over to the wide bank of windows to the left of the bed, and stared out at the fields, the road, and the glittering ocean beyond. He fervently hoped Jader would want partial custody, and their child would get to spend time here. It was a good home for raising children, from what he'd seen so far. Definitely for the best he'd not brought Chiri and Chara; he never would have been able to get them to leave again.
But that path led to the sorts of thoughts that hurt too much. Leaving them behind, Kamir climbed into bed. He set the watch and letters on the bedside table and settled in, breathing in the scent of lavender and moth flowers as he slowly drifted off to sleep.
When he woke, the room was darker, but a glance at the window showed the sun was still up. He rolled to the end of the bed and picked up his watch. Only a few minutes past seven, plenty of time until dinner.
Sitting up, he retrieved the envelope with the letters, his heart speeding up as he pulled out the one sealed with red wax and stamped with a heart—the classic mark for private, so certain letters would not be opened by secretaries or other staff used to handling all the post for their employers.
It was not the sort of letter he'd ever expected to receive. He wasn't the sort of person to inspire such letters. Except, apparently, when Jader was bored and going mad from it. Smiling fondly, Kamir carefully pulled the wax seal loose without breaking it and smoothed out the letter.
My Dearest Kamir,
There was a dinner party last night, as the weather was kind enough to permit it, with Lord Wessel and several other familiar faces from his house party. Thankfully this time they largely refrained from their tiresome questions.
Almost as frustrating, however, is being made to endure as they all get drunk and harass me with lewd suggestions and inappropriate touches. If only you had been here so I was able to drag you off to enjoy a few of the more interesting ideas. Lady Something-Something had a few thoughts involving silk ribbons that I rather liked for you, though sadly I do not know your thoughts on bondage. But I'm versatile, so I'm just as happy to have you do the binding if that is to your taste, or we can leave off altogether.
Lord Needs a B
ath whispered a rather crude thought involving a desk, and it reminded me vividly how much I enjoyed fucking you against the wall. The desk I write this letter on is the perfect height for bending you over, or spreading you across so I can enjoy the pleasure of your expressions as I fuck you until you scream.
I would love to be home right now, wheedling you into spoiling me while I am unable to do more than hobble about. Is that bratty of me? But I'll gladly call myself a brat if it means I could spend the day in my bed with you beside me, reading to me, eating with me, climbing on top of me and fucking yourself on my cock. I do enjoy the rare occasion where you take that little bit of control. It brings out a fire you seldom let show.
There's a handsome settee in my room that would be perfect for such an arrangement, and narrow enough that, when you were done using me for your pleasure, you'd have no choice but to lie atop me until you felt like moving again. Just thinking about it banishes my misery and even the wretched cold.
When we felt like moving again I'd drag you from the settee to my bed. The one I have here is not as nice as my bed in Harkenesten, but it's comfortable and warm. If you were here, I would gladly refuse to leave it for a day or two, and overindulge in you until we had to spend another two days simply in recovery.
Writing this letter has not relaxed me, but it's certainly distracting me in the most delightful and frustrating ways. I had to stop partway through to bring myself off, and wished throughout that my hand was your talented mouth, that I could drag you up when you were done and taste myself on your lips. Then I'd push you to the floor and return the favor, fuck you with my tongue and lips until you screamed my name.
The only smart thing I did in preparing for this trip was pack a box of toys to keep myself amused. I will have to dig it out of my trunk if I'm to get any sleep tonight, but I cannot find too much reason to complain.
Thank you, as ever, in indulging me by reading. As I said before, do not feel obligated to reply, and if you prefer I do not write such letters, simply let me know. Otherwise, you'll likely read more of them. I've never written such letters before, but now that I have written one, I fear a monster has risen.
And if I've left you as frustrated in the reading as I made myself in the writing, I cannot be terribly sorry. I like the idea of you thinking of me thus.
Yours,
Jader
The bastard had definitely left him frustrated—but also mired in guilt and misery, which rather effectively ruined the frustration.
Should he tell Jader of the child? He'd been putting it off because Jader had so much else to deal with. To tell him something so important in a letter seemed mean—and cowardly. And what of the royal decree? Lesto had signed for Jader, as he had permission to do such things in Jader's absence, but it was easy to tell from Jader's letters that no one had mentioned the decree to him.
If Kamir dared to do so without the knowledge or permission of the High Throne… He could not even begin to fathom Sarrica's wrath, and he absolutely could not afford the punishment that Sarrica would levy.
Which left him right where he was: Jader's lover, Jader's friend, and withholding two very important pieces of information.
No matter what he did, it would be the wrong thing. But if he told Jader what was happening, Sarrica would lash out, and his punishment severe enough it would affect Kamir's children. So that wasn't really an option, no matter how sick it made him to keep hiding things from Jader.
There was also the custody hearing at the end of the month. He couldn't do anything that would further jeopardize that.
Jader was going to hate him by the time he found out, and Kamir couldn't blame him.
But there was nothing he could do to fix it. Everything might be different if he hadn't been so stupid about forgetting to drink his tea. Then again, with his family, it might not have been.
He pulled out the other letter and reread them both, laughing and smiling all over again, wishing desperately he was there to comfort and distract Jader exactly as he wished.
Kamir worried his bottom lip as he finished reading the erotic letter for the third time. He couldn't be there, and Jader couldn't be here… and Kamir had never written an erotic letter in his life. He'd never even considered it. He was probably going to sound hopelessly stupid and awkward, but Jader had never done it either, so Kamir could push down his nerves and return the favor.
Climbing out of bed, he went to the little writing desk on one side of the room and dug out everything he needed, including a writing board so he could return to the bed.
Once everything was in place, he skimmed over Jader's letter one last time for inspiration and courage, and then finally started writing.
Nearly an hour and several rewrites later, he finally had a letter he thought he could stand to send. He read it over one last time, face hot the whole time, then made himself fold it. Climbing out of bed, he carried it to the desk—and hesitated, one hand straying up to his hair, a messy combination of mouse brown and straggling bits of purple. He would have to go into town anyway to purchase a proper seal for the personal letter, and purchase some gifts for the children as he'd promised. Why not spend some hours dying his hair? When was the last time he'd done anything for himself? His hair had always been his one indulgence…
And pathetic as it made him, he wanted to send a lock of hair to Jader. He'd have to rewrite the letter again, but hopefully it would be worth it, and Jader wouldn't regard the gesture as stupid or presumptuous.
Clearly he was set upon the deed no matter, so there was no point in thinking otherwise.
Tucking the letter in a drawer, he then sat at the desk to start on a regular letter—and nearly jumped out of his seat when someone knocked on the door. A servant entered and said, "Dinner is in one hour, my lord."
"Thank you, I'll be down shortly."
When she'd gone, Kamir reluctantly set his pen aside and went to get dressed, mind humming with everything he still wanted to say—and stubbornly ignoring all the things he couldn't.
Chapter Sixteen
Back home, Jader rarely looked forward to the post. Most of the time it was work, work, and more work. Rarely was it a letter from home, which was nearly the only mail he enjoyed getting.
Buried in the depths of Benta and slowly being murdered by snow, the post was often the best part of his day. It didn't bring something every day, but two or sometimes even three times a week was more than enough.
Especially since Kamir had responded to his private letter in the best possible way.
He hadn't opened it yet, had been determined to wait until he had a chance to savor it. He had also insisted on going upstairs to his room, no matter how much everyone had protested. He refused to sleep downstairs a day longer, in a room with a door he couldn't lock. Kamir had written him an erotic letter and he had every intention of enjoying it behind the complete privacy of a locked door.
Leaving his breakfast tray outside, he closed and locked the door, retrieved the latest letters from where he'd left them on his writing desk, and climbed back into bed. His ankle wasn't happy about all the moving, but Jader didn't give much of a damn. Anyway, he shouldn't be moving it again for a couple of hours, so it would hopefully settle down.
He opened the unsealed letter first, smoothing out the creases as he read:
Dear Jader,
I hope you're doing better by the time this letter reaches you. It seems Benta is as reluctant to have you as you were reluctant to visit.
I wish I had some interesting gossip from home for you, but sadly, between living in the city and traveling to Kyrmine, I have completely fallen out of gossip. Disgraceful, I know, but I hope you will not think less of me for it.
Sadly, the same reasons mean I have not dined recently with Their Majesties and the others. I have every reason to believe they are doing well, however, and I will be certain to find a way to tell Lesto you would greatly appreciate a letter from him.
Your home in Kyrmine is beautiful. It reminds me of
your suite in Harkenesten. I believe you will fall in love with it on sight. Your staff is marvelous. My impression is that your predecessor did not treat them well.
I am making all the arrangements required, and am honored you trusted me to do so. Hopefully all will be as you wish upon your return. The process of hiring new staffis going more smoothly than I dared hope, truly you will love your new home. I hope you are able to finish your tasks quickly that you might return and enjoy it all the sooner.
My ex-husband is, mercifully, leaving me alone, though part of that may be that he simply has no choice right now. Mostly I think that living in the city puts me too far away for him to bother, but whatever the reason, I am happy with the result.
You need not buy me a new home gift. You've done more than enough for me already. I greatly look forward to your letters; continue to send them and I will call myself content—more than content, to be honest.
Jader frowned. Something about the letter was off. Was he losing his mind? All of Kamir's letters showed a certain formality, like he was constantly aware and painfully conscious of every word he put to paper, but this one seemed stiffer than usual, like he was holding back or avoiding something.
It made no sense he'd been so out of touch with the palace he'd ceased dining with them altogether. No one just stopped dining at the High Table until they were ordered to stop, and Kamir had been happy there. When he forgot to be nervous, he was as comfortable there as Allen and Tara and Shemal—especially Shemal, who understood what it was like to be the odd one out better than even Tara.
Never mind that Kamir was so carefully proper and polite. He'd never quit dining with them, even if he was forced to go out of his way, unless he was ordered to stop.
But why would he be told to stop dining with them? Allen had promised he would protect Kamir.
Making a note to write Allen about the matter, he resumed reading.
