by Megan Derr
I must apologize to you, my lord. My companion on the trip to Kyrmine wanted to know why I was laughing so hard, and I shared your woes of walking in snow.
What companion? Who would be traveling with Kamir that wasn't family? Jader shook his head and banished the uncharacteristic possessiveness. If Kamir was traveling with a friend, all to the good. He should always have plenty of friends. If the mystery person was a lover, Kamir would have said. He wasn't the sort of person to hide that kind of thing.
And Kamir had written him a letter sealed with red wax and a heart. He certainly wouldn't do that if he had taken another lover.
So if that gossip reaches the palace at some point, I am wholly to blame and very sorry. I will be more circumspect in what I share going forward. I was simply distracted and amused and wanted to share the anecdote.
I do not advise trying to drink an entire wine cellar. For one, that would be a terrible waste of wine after a point, and I know you would hate yourself for that. For another, it would make you too ill to travel, which you especially hate. And finally, you'd probably twist your other ankle, and everybody would hate that, I have no doubt.
Jader laughed. Perhaps he'd been reading too much into the earliest parts of the letter, because this seemed entirely like a Kamir at ease—more at ease than usual, even.
Homesickness washed over Jader, sharp and stabbing, leaving his breath short and his eyes stinging.
He'd expected to feel that sort of sharp ache for the Islands, for Harkenesten, for Lesto and the others. Not for Kamir, no matter how much he missed him.
But there was no denying that right then, he would give up everything else to have Kamir right there with him for even a few minutes.
He looked across the room to where the jeweler had recently delivered his commissions. Jader had examined everything thoroughly before approving and sending the final payment, but he rose all the same and went straight to the emerald green velvet box that contained Kamir's gifts.
Opening the box, he stared at the hairpins inside, lightly tracing the lines of them with his fingertips. Three were in yellow gold, three in white gold, each one decorated with a different bunch of jeweled flowers. They were made to be worn in multiple ways, but Jader was really looking forward to seeing Kamir wear them as he'd worn that spray of flowers the day Jader had really and truly seen him for the first time.
He closed the box and resumed reading.
I cannot believe something as silly as dying one's hair gets looked down upon. Never mind it makes no sense to align such a practice with those who do not have much money. Dying my hair as I do is expensive, probably more expensive than people realize—in money and time, and few people ever consider the latter.
As to whether or not I have recolored mine, I will leave the answer to be discovered in the additional letter.
You are sorely missed. I hope you're able to return home soon.
Yours truly,
Kamir
A twisting ache pulled at Jader's chest as he read the parting words.
Somewhere along the way he'd become a bit more enamored of Kamir than he'd realized. Madly in love and ready to go to temple? No. But that wasn't a possibility to be dismissed anymore.
It could simply be he was clinging overmuch to a man who was leagues and leagues away, and his ardency would cool again when he was back in Harkenesten and life was normal once more.
That was a problem he could not sort until he was home, however, so for the present he was happy to concentrate on that last, teasing bit about Kamir's hair.
Limping back over to the bed, he tucked the letter back into its envelope and drew out the sealed one—and was acutely aware there was something more than paper in it. Breaking the seal, he unfolded the paper. Heart and cock reacted at the surprise contents: a small lock of brilliant, ocean green hair bound with a piece of silver ribbon.
Jader groaned. He wanted to see Kamir now. Naked, his beautiful hair spread out on Jader's pillows, expression happy and hungry as he drew Jader into a kiss and begged so sweetly to be fucked. And Mother Ocean, would Jader be happy to oblige. He'd spread Kamir wide, rest those slender thighs on his shoulders, and fuck Kamir with his tongue and mouth until he screamed, and while he was still shuddering through his climax, Jader would bury himself deep and fuck Kamir again, until they were both too sated and wrung out to do more than call for dinner to be brought.
Fuck, he didn't even need the letter. That lock of hair was plenty inspiring all on its own.
But he really wanted to know what kind of erotic letter sweet, shy Kamir had written.
Giving up any pretense of control, he stripped off his dressing robe and settled comfortably in bed.
My Dearest Jader,
You certainly succeeded in your goal of leaving me frustrated. I would call you cruel, but I am enjoying too much the attempt to have my revenge.
The mention of my hair, and what foolish Bentans associate with dyed hair, inspired me to try something that's been suggested to me before but I never was bold enough to try. Let us say the hair on my head was not the only hair I dyed this time.
Jader swore. The evil little bastard. That image was going to drive him mad for days. Lightly gripping his cock, stroking as idly as he could manage so it would last, he resumed reading.
It is not an experience I would want to repeat often, but at least this time I suspect it was well worth the effort and mortification. You will have to tell me if I am correct in imagining the effect it's had on you.
Is being fucked over a desk similar to being fucked on a table? That I have done, though not in many years. That time was a woman I crossed paths with while traveling. The contents of her trunks were vastly more interesting than mine. When you return, we shall certainly have to see how a desk compares to a table. If you feel the need to have me across both in the name of thorough experimentation, I would be happy to accommodate.
Groaning, Jader gripped harder, stroked faster. As he'd suspected, that fire Kamir too often banked flared hot and bright when he was given opportunity. Mother Ocean, Jader was more than happy to be the reason.
The last time I was in the palace, I happened by that room where you first kissed me. There was a small group of youths using it, probably seeking the same solitude we were that evening. In light of your letter, I now am helpless to resist wondering all the filthy ways that first meeting might have gone if circumstances had been slightly different. Would you have shown restraint anyway? Or put me on the sofa or up against the wall and removed just enough clothing to get what we needed? Or would you have spread me out on the floor and fucked me thoroughly?
Mother Ocean, Jader wanted to do all of it. Crude and fast while they were both still mostly dressed. Strip Kamir bare and have him slowly on the floor. He was definitely going to drag Kamir into that room when he got home. If Lesto could sneak off with his pirate to their torrid little sitting room, he could do the same with his lover.
Jader gave up reading as he lost himself in imaginings, using both hands to work himself, one wrapped firmly around his cock, the other playing with his nipples, pinching and twisting them. He dragged his nails down his chest, across his stomach, then reached further down to tease and roll his sac, tugging in that way he loved, the slightest bit of pain as he stroked hard one last time. He groaned loudly as he came, completely uncaring if anyone else could hear him.
He lay there sprawled on the bed for a moment, messy hands resting on his stomach. Eventually he sat up and fetched a washing cloth to clean himself up. Tossing it in the laundry bin by the wardrobe, he returned to the bed and his letter.
As I write these things, I am acutely aware I am alone in your bed here in Kyrmine. It's enormous, too much for one person, but alas that is what I am—alone, wet, and aching. I can certainly get myself off, but it's not what I want and leaves me unsatisfied.
Are you bringing yourself off, reading my words? I wish I was there to watch; I can only imagine how much more breathtaking you are pleasur
ing yourself.
I hope I've persuaded you to leave off the wine cellars.
Yours truly,
Kamir
Jader let the letter fall to the bedding, arms draped across his stomach as he stared up at the ceiling lost in thoughts of home, thoughts of Kamir, the ache so deep and twisting his eyes stung anew.
Kamir thought him breathtaking. No one had ever described Jader in such an extravagant way. He wasn't breathtaking, but he was more than happy to bask in the knowledge that Kamir thought he was.
Eventually he dragged himself out of bed and, after tucking the letters away, washed and dressed for the day. There was some sort of snow fair that day, which sounded like a terrible idea, but as much as he hated the snow, he was damned tired of being confined indoors. Of course, that very thing was what had inspired him to take the walk that had betrayed him in the first place.
Jader sighed at himself as he finished buttoning his jacket. Going to his trunks, he pulled out a pair of boots that would match what he was wearing and set them by the door. Returning to the wardrobe, he pulled out one of his jewelry cases and mulled over his options before finally settling on a simple pair of cascading hoops threaded with sapphires and diamonds.
He carried the boots with him as he walked slowly and carefully through the halls. His ankle still twinged, but it was leagues better than it had been two weeks ago. As long as he continued to minimize how much he used it, he should be good as new in another week or so.
"I might have known you'd try to do it alone," Tsarana said from behind him. He braced his hands on his hips as Jader turned to face him. "If you don't have a care, my lord, you will limp the rest of your life, and I know that will absolutely infuriate you."
"Fair enough." Jader sighed and allowed Tsarana to help him down the stairs, his boots handed off to the soldier standing a few paces behind them. He cast Tsarana a look. "You seem peeved about more than me being stubborn."
Tsarana gave a soft huff. "Some of our laundry has gone missing. The staff is trying to locate it, but I fear it somehow got left behind at Wessel's manor, which means we are short a good many tunics. But it's a minor irritation; I'm just annoyed with myself for doing something so stupid."
"Won't be the last time, trust me," Jader said with a laugh. "You may as well accept that."
"Wise words," Tsaraa said, and returned Jader's smile with one of his own.
Downstairs, when they finally made it, everyone else was already gathered in the hallway. "My apologies, I hope I have not left you all standing around waiting."
Krista shook her head and smiled. "We've only just arrived ourselves. How are you?"
"Improving slowly, I think. Let us hope I do not undo all my progress today. I would hate to prolong everyone's suffering by keeping me confined to quarters even longer." That drew laughter from the group, and the soldier holding Jader's boots helped him into them before they all finally headed outside.
Jader felt like a child having to cling to someone, but he had no suitable crutches and he wasn't so egotistical that he would try walking on the treacherous ground alone—that would definitely put him right back to sitting in chairs all day long for weeks on end.
Instead of a carriage, they were traveling by sled. It was very like a carriage in purpose, but built on slats of wood rather than using wheels. The horses pulling it were larger, and there were six of them instead of the usual four. "Fascinating."
"You should see the dog sleds," Krista replied as she accepted the hand a servant offered and climbed into the sled.
Jader followed after her, with Seredia and Tsarana on either side of him, Vannia and Shera a short distance behind. Five other soldiers rode horses on all sides of them, along with a few additional footmen. Lord Cherrell had chosen to ride as well, accompanied by still more guards, these ones bearing the dark purple and gray uniform of Abernoth Pass.
"Why are there so many guards?" Tsarana asked. "Is something amiss I was not informed of?"
Krista shook her head. "If we believed there might be even the slightest chance of danger, we would have told you. No, my brother agreed to provide extra security at the fair itself simply because you're an honored guest. It's a…" she waved a hand in the air as she struggled for the words she wanted, "way of showing off. The biggest problem we encounter at snow fairs is drunks. Occasionally some poor fool gets too drunk and falls into the water if it's not frozen over. Security's main duty is to prevent such things. The danger has never been greater than that."
"I see," Jader said. "Thank you for explaining."
Nodding and smiling, Krista said, "I know you have no reason to love the snow, my lord, but I am hoping you will enjoy the fair. It's a pity you cannot ice skate; I know Wessel was looking forward to teaching you."
"I am extremely curious to see this ice skating everyone talks about," Jader replied.
Tialla started speaking then, Krista and Seredia taking turns doing the translating, explaining everything they'd see and do at the fair. It was a pity Kamir wasn't there because he would probably enjoy the fair a thousand times more.
"There will also be vendors out selling various wares, items they don't sell any other time of year or even in the stores this time of year. If you needed another trunk of presents for your friends back in Harken." Krista's eyes sparkled as she met his, mouth quirked in a teasing smile.
Smiling sheepishly, Jader said, "I won't even pretend I wasn't wondering if I could do that very thing."
They all chuckled, and conversation moved on to other matters that Jader eventually faded out of, more interested in thinking about Kamir and the recent letters. He would definitely be replying—ardently.
And he'd be writing to Allen as well, just to set his mind at ease about anything Kamir wasn't saying, since Kamir was definitely the sort to suffer in silence rather than ask anyone but Velina for help—especially if he thought he couldn't or shouldn't bother someone. Such as a High Commander who initiated an affair mere weeks before he was ordered to Benta, and without discussing parameters and expectations the way he should have.
Though in his defense—very meager defense, he conceded—he had not expected Kamir to be more than one more brief lover in a long string of them. Jader had never felt like the settling type, especially with all the non-stop work that came with being High Commander. If he married at all, he assumed it would be something arranged. As much as he, and Lesto before him, preferred to keep the position as military as possible, his current situation was a sharp reminder it was also a political role.
Distance normally would have calmed any interest he had in a lover. The few he'd kept longer than a matter of days, he'd lost interest in after being sent out to deal with one problem or another as Deputy High Commander. What made Kamir so different?
There were a thousand answers to that question, many of them learned in all that Kamir said—and didn't say—in the many letters he'd written since Jader had been in Benta.
And it was a bit dazzling to be thought breathtaking. Kamir could have only said that because the letter was erotic and florid language suited that. Kamir wasn't the type to say something he didn't mean, however. He said or didn't.
After a lifetime of being too pale, too Islander, too everything he wasn't supposed to be... well, Jader had climbed to High Commander despite all those supposed shortcomings because he was also vain and stubborn and selfish. Being thought breathtaking certainly fit with that.
Would Kamir be interested in a proper courtship? Jader itched to write a letter that very moment, but that would be crass and even cowardly. He would simply have to be patient and wait until he was home.
Though given the wall he kept meeting every time he tried to bring up the subject at breakfast, tea, dinner, and whenever else he could manage, he was starting to think he would never go home. About the only bright point in his life was that he only had two months of winter left to endure. That still seemed depressingly long, but at least there would be an end.
In the mea
ntime, he would continue writing letters and enjoying Kamir's replies.
A soft chuckle drew him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see everyone in the sled looking at him with amusement. "What?"
"It's so easy to tell when you are thinking of Lord Kamir," Seredia replied.
Tialla spoke, and Krista translated, "She'd like to hear more about your lover."
"I'm fairly certain I will bore you all quickly."
When Seredia translated, Tialla scoffed and motioned for him to talk.
"Lord Kamir is—"
A pained cry drowned him out, but before Jader could find the source, the sled came to a rough, jarring halt.
Everything exploded into chaos. Krista threw herself out of the sled, Seredia cried out in pain, her arm bleeding, another cut on her forehead. Shera started to climb out of the sled, then abrumpty fell to the snow, where red blossomed from beneath his head. Vannia screamed. Arrows were everywhere, and all around him came more screaming and shouting. "We have to get out of here. Seredia, Vannia, this way, head for the trees where there's cover." Searing pain scraped Jader's upper arm, and he saw the arrow as it plunged into the wood and missed Tialla by a hair. Tialla was frozen in terror and breathing in a not-good way. Jader bent to draw the knife in his boot, and when he looked up—
Tialla was dead, an arrow through her right eye. Seredia was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Krista. Jader threw himself out of the sled, looked around in disbelief at the men surrounding them, attacking them—all of them wearing Shattered Wind tunics. That couldn't be.
Rage filled him, and he ran for the nearest soldier, ducking low and ramming into the man's legs. He slammed a fist into the man's face, used the bare moments he was dazed to slit his throat, and stole his sword. Climbing to his feet, he went after the next.
His ankle screamed at him, but Jader ignored it, taking down two more and obtaining a second sword. By that point, more of them were surrounding him, more than he could possibly take on his own. All of them wore Shattered Wind uniforms.
Attacking was futile, but he'd be damned if he went quietly.
