by Rachel White
"So," said Suul Dayne, smiling at him again, "you've caused quite a stir here. How are you enjoying your time in Jev?"
"It's very different than Adesa."
Suul Dayne laughed. "I have no doubt. You're being accompanied by Amun Taarq, yes?"
"Yes."
"How is that going?"
"It's going well," said Rallis carefully. "I'm learning a great deal about Jev."
"I expect it must be very different for you. Have you ever been to Jev before?"
"Never."
"An inauspicious first visit." The corner of Suul Dayne's mouth rose. "Even so, you're being treated as a guest, yes? There should be plenty for you to do."
That was, in Rallis's opinion, a severe understatement.
The dance changed. Suul Dayne's hand landed against his spine, gently guiding him to where he needed to be. Though he didn't know the precise steps, the rhythm of the music was easy to follow along, and Suul Dayne was a good partner. Attentive and courteous, charming and friendly, he seemed like an ideal man to have on their side. Why hadn't Lieutenant Taarq introduced them?
"Have you been a member of the Suulsen a long time?" Rallis asked. Perhaps he was too new to have much sway.
"Two years, now."
"Do you enjoy it?"
"It has its good and bad." Suul Dayne's hand slid over his shoulder, pulling him around. "More good, overall. We'll be voting on you in the next few days."
Tendrils of ice wove through Rallis. He struggled to keep his face smooth. "I know."
"Are you prepared?"
"As much as possible. I've done what I can." And if it wasn't enough—Nur, he wouldn't think about that. "I look forward to going home."
Suul Dayne gave him another sleepy smile. "I look forward to your execution."
Rallis stumbled so badly he nearly fell, only Suul Dayne's hands on his wrist and waist keeping him upright. He wanted to yank himself free but didn't dare cause a scene. No one around them appeared to notice that anything was wrong—except Lieutenant Taarq, who was watching with even more focus than before.
Suul Dayne guided Rallis into the next stage of the dance. "Are you well?" he asked.
"You…"
"Me?"
"You want me to die?"
"My allegiance is with Arryne." Suul Dayne stepped behind Rallis, his arms wrapping around Rallis's chest. His body was hot and smelled faintly of cinnamon. His voice, whispering low in Rallis's ear, was as mild as before, but now Rallis could hear the edge of cruelty beneath the honeyed surface. "You're attractive enough, Adesi, but you're worthless and your people are worthless. Soon enough, we'll get rid of you."
The dance moved into the third stage. They separated. Free of the confines of Suul Dayne's embrace, Rallis could breathe and speak. "You can try," he hissed. "You won't succeed. Suul Thrun doesn't have that many supporters."
Suul Dayne laughed. "If you say so," he said mildly. "I would tell you not to underestimate Arryne, but it rather benefits me if you do." He stepped away as the song ended. "Good luck. You'll need it."
Curses and foul words swarmed in Rallis's mouth, but unlike Naravi, he could keep a hold on his tongue. He gave Suul Dayne the shallowest possible bow. "Thank you. I appreciate the goodwill."
"You—"
"Citizen Yy."
At the sound of Lieutenant Taarq's voice, Suul Dayne shut his mouth, gave Rallis another placid, unfriendly smile, and withdrew into the crowd, so quickly it felt like he had vanished in plain air. Only Rallis's rage remained to mark that he had really been there—and the ghostly sensation of his hand around Rallis's wrist, warmer than a manacle, but no less confining.
Lieutenant Taarq was watching him warily. "Did you know?" Rallis asked him. "He said he's on Suul Thrun's side. Did you know that?"
"Yes."
"You let me dance with him."
"How could I stop you?"
The straightforwardness of the question sheared through Rallis's anger. "Have I danced with any other enemies?" he asked, unable to keep exhaustion from tainting his voice.
"Rallis… No. Only him."
"He seemed friendly. I didn't realize…" Nur's heart, he was tired of this. Tired of watching for a knife around every corner. Tired of knowing that two out of every three people he met would not only allow him to die, impassive and indifferent, but actually wanted it. The other third, the ones who weren't actively out for his blood, would only help him until it became inconvenient for them. Would Lieutenant Taarq also lose interest in this cause once he saw that it was unpopular and support for Rallis and Naravi was waning?
"Do you want to dance?"
"Honestly? I want to leave."
Lieutenant Taarq nodded. "That can be arranged. Wait here."
Five minutes later, he was back, all business. "This way." He led Rallis toward the edge of the room, where the door and escape waited. As they walked, a few people called greetings and farewells, but most of the crowd—sparser now than when they had arrived and significantly drunker—didn't appear to notice that they were leaving. In the end, Rallis was nothing more than a child's flare-light: a momentary distraction, temporary entertainment, easily discarded and quickly forgotten.
Chapter Sixteen
Back in his room, he tore off the cursed jacket and his stupid gloves, throwing them against the wall. Lieutenant Taarq watched without speaking. Free of Jevite trappings, Rallis rounded on him.
"Now what?" he demanded, still so overcome with anger and pain he felt like he was going to rattle himself to pieces. "Suul Dayne said they would be voting on us in the next few days. Have I done enough?"
"I don't know."
"What if I haven't? What if they vote to execute us? What would you do?"
"I would try to get you off of Jev," said Lieutenant Taarq calmly. Ah, gods, every word out of his mouth made things worse.
"You're an idiot if you try that," Rallis told him. "You would never succeed. And they would probably execute you too."
"Perhaps."
"If you try and get one of us out—"
"You want me to save your cousin. I know. But, Rallis, I can't do that. I can't save him and not you. I'm sorry."
"It's your fault he's here," Rallis told him.
It was a bitter, cruel thing to say, and it was untrue. It was Rallis's fault Naravi was there. He knew it, but wild rage pulsed through his veins, intoxicating as ymmet and deadly as poison, and his tongue was moving on its own. "I should never have let you into the motherhouse. You and your fucking legion friends. You did this to us. You should never even have asked me to play khas. You should have—you should have just left me alone."
He waited for anger, anticipating it and dreading it. Maybe they would get in a physical fight. He didn't want it—gods, he wanted no part of any of this—but at least it would give him an outlet for the pain roiling inside him.
"You're right," said Lieutenant Taarq softly.
It was like being doused in ice water. The idea of Lieutenant Taarq initiating a physical fight was laughable. No amount of rage could make him do that because he loved Rallis and because he was a just, reasonable person with a cool head.
Another emotion took hold of Rallis in anger's place: a sickly, ugly shame. "I didn't…" he began.
"No, you're right." Lieutenant Taarq spoke steadily, meeting Rallis's gaze. "I shouldn't have asked you to play khas. At the time… At the time, I didn't think about how it would seem to you. I should have, but I didn't. When I saw how uncomfortable you were around legionnaires, I finally realized. I made a commitment to be better. Then…"
He sighed. "I kept doing it. I shouldn't have asked you about the Festival. You family deserved better than what happened."
"I invited you."
"Only because you were scared—"
"I'm not scared of you," said Rallis harshly. "That's not—that's not what happened. I misjudged Naravi. I didn't take him seriously enough." He had thought Naravi's actions were shallow, the stupid playacting of a boy, bu
t Naravi was serious. His pain was real. The consequences of his suffering were real too. "I don't…I don't want him to be punished because of me. He's here because I brought him here. I might as well have put him on the shuttle myself. If he dies, I can't…"
"I know." Lieutenant Taarq stared at his gloved hands. As Rallis watched, he tugged one fingertip and then the next, until his left glove slipped free. His hand was dark and unfamiliar when he held it out to Rallis, but Rallis pressed their palms together all the same. The warmth of skin against skin made his cock stir, despite every single other part of the Nur-damned situation.
Lieutenant Taarq swallowed audibly. "There's no reason to worry about any of this yet," he continued, pressing on with admirable effort. "I'll try to get you both out. And Nasir—"
"I don't really want to talk about Lieutenant Harn right now."
"Do you want to play khas?"
Rallis wove his fingers through Lieutenant Taarq's. "I want to go to bed."
Lieutenant Taarq jumped away from him, as he'd expected. "What?"
"I want to go to bed with you. Right now. I—if I'm going to die in the next few days, I don't want to die before we get this. I don't know if I love you," Rallis continued, unable to stay his tongue, "but—I care for you. And I want us to have this."
"You—" said Lieutenant Taarq, looking helplessly around the room. "You don't—it's not—"
"Do you want to or not?"
"Ah." A long silence, so full of unspoken things it seemed to replace the air in the room. "Yes," Lieutenant Taarq finally said. "Of course I want to."
"Then why not?"
"You're in my power. You're my prisoner." Lieutenant Taarq reached for his glove, and then froze when Rallis picked it up and held it away. "Please give that back."
"I'm not your prisoner."
"Rallis—"
He kept looking at the glove. It was like Rallis had pulled the leg off a beetle and was watching it scramble, panicked and confused. Reluctantly, he passed the glove back. "I want it," he said as he did so. "I want you."
"I…" Lieutenant Taarq stared at the glove in his hand. "It's a bad idea."
"And?"
"I could hurt you."
It was hard not to laugh. "I'm going to be executed. What exactly do you think you could do that's worse than that?"
For a long moment, Lieutenant Taarq seemed frozen with indecision. Then he removed his other glove. "If you're sure. But if you change your mind—"
Rallis seized him and kissed him before he could finish his sentence, and gods, it was meant to happen. Their bodies fit perfectly together. Lieutenant Taarq was taller than him by perhaps half a head, just tall enough that he needed to lean down slightly to press his mouth against Rallis's. His lips were warm and firm and sweet. His arm wove around Rallis's waist, the other stroking up and down the length of Rallis's spine, slipping under the hem of Rallis's shirt to press hotly against the skin of his back. This was as good as a fight to vent his emotions—better, even.
They pulled apart. "Don't think about anything," Rallis told him. His pupils were so wide, they swallowed his irises. "You're going to overthink things if you do."
"I…"
It was like a khas game. If left to his own devices, Lieutenant Taarq would drive himself into a corner, so Rallis had to outmaneuver him. Different, this time, in that they were on the same side, seeking the same goal—but still familiar enough.
He curled his hands in Lieutenant Taarq's jacket and pulled him into the other room, where the bed waited. "Do you want to fuck?"
"Don't—Exalted, how can you just say it like that?" Lieutenant Taarq asked. He was smiling, though it seemed more hysteria than good humor. "I can hardly even think the word right now."
"Is that a no?"
Lieutenant Taarq's arms encircled him. "Of course it's not a no," he said hoarsely. Nur, he was stunning. When he leaned down and kissed Rallis again, it felt like an inevitability. Destiny, as Naravi might put it.
"We both want this." Rallis began to undo the buttons of Lieutenant Taarq's pristine jacket, one by one. "You're not going to harm me. Just touch me."
He pushed Lieutenant Taarq's jacket off his shoulders and then slipped his hands under the collar of the soft white shirt beneath. Lieutenant Taarq swallowed audibly. His skin was burning hot, so hot it seemed almost painful to the touch. Carefully, Rallis leaned forward to kiss the side of his neck, inhaling his scent. It was the same smell that had driven him so mad all those long nights playing khas in the garrison, that intoxicating scent that had filled Rallis's dreams.
"Rallis—" said Lieutenant Taarq and buried his face in Rallis's hair.
Nur, how could Rallis bear it? The unfairness of the situation was overshadowed only by his anger at it. He yanked Lieutenant Taarq's shirt up, suddenly desperate for more skin on skin contact. Damn the Jevites, anyway, and their pointless fastidiousness. How much closer could he and Lieutenant Taarq have been by now if their hands had been allowed to touch?
Beneath his shirt, Lieutenant Taarq's body was narrow and fit, his muscles standing out sharply. He had grown up, not out, but Jevites tended toward long and thin. His nipples were dark and pebbled. When Rallis bit one of them gently, Lieutenant Taarq hissed out a breath.
"I still don't know if this is wise," he gasped, but his long fingers were woven through Rallis's hair, holding Rallis's head in place, and he was arching to meet Rallis's teeth.
Rallis glanced at him. "I don't care if it's wise."
"Rallis—"
"This way."
He caught Lieutenant Taarq's wrist and tugged him toward the bed, sinking down onto it. After a moment, Lieutenant Taarq's body covered his own, pressing deliciously against him. Despite his uncertainty and doubt, he was obviously hard, his cock driving against Rallis's when their hips met. The rough pressure made them both groan.
Their lips found each other again, Lieutenant Taarq's tongue licking against his own and then sliding into his mouth. Rallis relaxed into the mattress, forcing—with some effort—all thoughts of the evening out of his mind. There, then, he had no room to worry about Naravi or Suul Thrun or the empress. There was only himself and Lieutenant Taarq, who was now running his mouth over Rallis's neck and shoulders, one hand rubbing teasingly over Rallis's cloth-covered arousal.
"Undress," Rallis commanded. Lieutenant Taarq blinked but did as directed—a trained legion officer to the end—while Rallis stripped as quickly as he could out of his own clothes. Afterward, when they were both naked, they gazed at one another with sudden uncertainty.
"Do you want me to…" Lieutenant Taarq began.
"I want you to fuck me," Rallis told him, lying back among the pillows.
He saw the ripple that passed through Lieutenant Taarq's body at the words: half-alarm, half-desire, it made him go as still as a startled cat. After a moment, he lifted his head to meet Rallis's gaze. "I want…"
"What?"
"More time," said Lieutenant Taarq softly. "This isn't…this isn't what I had imagined."
Rallis cupped his face and guided him forward. "You imagined it?" he asked. It came off as teasing, but he meant it seriously: the idea that Lieutenant Taarq had pictured trysts between them wasn't something that had ever occurred to him. He had known, of course, that Lieutenant Taarq was attracted to him, even that Lieutenant Taarq wanted to be more than acquaintances and khas rivals, but he was so courteous. Wasn't it against some personal tenant of his to fantasize?
Lieutenant Taarq gave a soft laugh, obviously embarrassed. "Of course I did. It was impossible not to. Every time we played, I thought about having you across the khas board."
"No wonder you always lost."
This time, Lieutenant Taarq's laugh was stronger and more real. "That's just unkind!" he exclaimed when his humor had subsided. "It's not easy for me to talk about, you know."
"I know." Rallis brushed a kiss over his smiling mouth. "Tell me what you imagined. The victor taking the spoils?"
"They were fan
tasies, not delusions," Lieutenant Taarq murmured, kissing Rallis's chin and then his neck. "I never imagined that I was the victor. No, it was…ah, Exalted, they feel childish."
"Tell me."
Lieutenant Taarq's fingers traced over Rallis's stomach. "When we played—after we finished—you always seemed so alive. I imagined kissing you then. You would—"
He shifted suddenly, planting his hand beside Rallis's head and bracing his weight on it, curving his body over Rallis's. With the freedom the new position gave him, he slid his hand—his gloveless hand—down Rallis's stomach and curled it around Rallis's arousal. His palm was still ferociously hot, soft and firm and steady against Rallis's aching cock. Rallis reached down until his fingers brushed over the firm length of Lieutenant Taarq's own arousal and took it in hand. Lieutenant Taarq's cock was just as he had imagined it: long and thin like its owner, slightly curved, already leaking seed from the silken tip. He stroked carefully up and down the length a few times, reveling in the way Lieutenant Taarq's chest hitched.
"You would reciprocate," Lieutenant Taarq continued, strained. "I mean—they weren't violent fantasies. I didn't think you wanted it at the time, but when I imagined what might happen, it was always mutual. I never—"
He was going to worry himself to death about violating Rallis. "I'm obviously reciprocating, aren't I?" Rallis asked, and punctuated the question with a firm pull of Lieutenant Taarq's cock. Lieutenant Taarq's hips bucked forward; he dropped down onto his forearm with a harsh noise, pressing his forehead against the juncture where Rallis's neck met shoulder.
"Y-yes."
"Keep going."
"It was always dangerous. Either in my office where we might be interrupted, or my flat, where Nasir—"
Oh, gods, the last thing Rallis wanted was to imagine Lieutenant Harn walking in on them. "Don't talk about that," he gasped, feeling the pressure growing between his legs. For all his nervousness, Lieutenant Taarq's hand knew exactly what it was doing.
Lieutenant Taarq laughed. "Sorry, sorry," he murmured, kissing Rallis's throat. "Anyway, we would—would scramble out of our clothes. I always—it made more sense to have us keep our clothes on, since it was supposed to be so frantic, but I couldn't bear that. I wanted to touch you. When we were—were unclothed, we would…"
