by Derr, Megan
Aik nodded politely to the men watching him, a master monk and three disciples from a valley temple he remembered hearing about once but had never visited. The uniforms were different from the one he'd once worn—darker fabric, the tunic and pants a bit more restrictive.
"Wine?" Bey asked soundlessly, pouring for him. A dark, sweet wine, their preferred for long dinners like this. At Nanda's empty place was a much paler wine, the taste bitter. Aik was equally fond of it, but it was more potent so he drank it less often.
Witcher glanced at them as he poured wine for Shah, sky blue eyes bright with the pleasure that watching them perform always brought. Aik smiled briefly back before turning to his duties of entertaining, edging into a conversation between one of the disciples and a woman of the queen's harem, smirking at how nervous the man was to be addressed by such a beautiful woman.
"My pardon, Lord Aikhadour."
Aik glanced toward the master. "Sir?"
"Are you … Were you a student of the mountain temple at some point? I visited there several years ago, and again more recently, and recognize your fighting style."
"Yes, I was," Aik said. "I left three years ago to remain here with my king." Which should have put an end to the inquiry.
But the master did not stop. "Yes … Your former master still speaks of you. If you are indeed who I think you are, that is. He mourns the loss of his finest student, and laments ever finding another."
"I was never so special as that," Aik said calmly, carefully setting down his wine dish before he spilled it. "When I left, there were at least three others of my level or greater. I recall two who had more promise than I. As I chose to leave, I was never a true disciple anyway."
The master monk nodded and murmured noncommittally, allowing the topic of conversation to change, but Aik felt unwelcome eyes on him the rest of the night.
"Why so quiet, Aik?" Witcher asked after they had seen the queen to her chambers. "You've been all monkish," he said with a wink, "since that stuffy master asked about when you were part of the temple."
Aik shrugged. "If I had remained with the temple, I would be working my way through level eight and toward nine. Few disciples make it that far. I showed great promise. The master regarded me highly." He frowned. "But he isn't the sort to 'lament' a 'lost pupil.' There were no hard feelings when I said would not be returning." He shrugged again. "So I wonder what that conversation was really about."
Shah frowned pensively. "So do I. He was being rude, and apparently lying."
"He also seemed fairly young," Witcher commented, "for a master. At least, my impression has always been that such men are generally much older. I mean, Aik wouldn't even have achieved full level ten until he was nearly forty, right? And the steps to master beyond that …"
"I could have done it sooner," Aik explained, the words said simply, not smugly. "The master never doubted for a minute I was capable; that was part of the reason he agreed to let me journey to the palace. But I am not valuable, not the way that master implied. There were other equally promising students."
Shah smiled. "I don't know about that. Royal property tends to be regarded as quite valuable."
Aik and Witcher laughed. "I pity the man who tries to use the lot of us against you," Witcher said. "Within a day, Bey would have them paying you to take us back."
Chuckling in amusement, Shah did not argue the point, but it was soon replaced by his thoughtful frown. "I will look further into this monk. It seemed a simple visit, and I enjoy guests, but not if they are going to lie or upset my men."
"I'm sure it's nothing, Shah," Aik said. "If anything, he was probably just expressing disapproval that a monk would give up the true and noble path to live a pampered life in the palace."
Witcher laughed and dropped an arm around Aik's shoulders, his other hand in Shah's. "But you make such a fine decadent monk; how could anyone begrudge Shah stealing you away?"
Aik smiled and leaned in to give Witcher a quick kiss. "I try to live up to the title I seem to have acquired."
"Now, see? If all monks did that, I bet the religious life would be plenty more appealing. You should start something like the 'decadent path,' Aik."
"I think not," Shah said dryly. "With a path such as that, I would have a hard time getting people to follow any path except the religious. I would prefer the 'decadent path' confine itself to my chambers."
Witcher grinned. "So what's the seventh level of the decadent path?"
"I'll show you," Aik said with a grin of his own.
*~*~*
Aik looked up from his book at the sound of movement—and froze. He scrambled to bow. "Majesty," he said to the floor. He could not think of what to say next.
"Are you enjoying your stay, Aikhadour?"
It sounded unsettling to hear his name spoken so. Had King Shahjahan purposely left off the honorific 'Brother?' Why? Even stranger, why did the king know his name? He was the least of his brothers, hardly worthy of anyone, least of all the king, remembering.
"Yes, Majesty. Of course. Your palace is beautiful." When he'd first arrived at the temple, a child dumped by parents who could not afford another mouth, he had thought the austere temple the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. But the palace was breathtaking, and only grew more so every day that he was here. There was a warmth to it the temple lacked, marks of a history as colorful as the temple was severe. Among the inhabitants there were layers of protocol, enough rules to make a man dizzy, etiquette that could take years to truly master, but intermingled there was humor, conversation, exotic dinners and every day was different.
Not like the temple at all. Meditation rather than conversation. Plain foods, to keep the mind properly focused. Routine that never changed, except where season and weather forced the monks into alternate practices that were themselves routine. He'd never had a problem with that before. It gave his life order; chores and mediation gave him meaning … or at least something.
Oh, these doubts wouldn't do. He was a level seven monk; in less than a decade he could be a full level ten, years ahead of his peers. Another decade past that and he would be a master himself, perhaps good enough to take over one of the smaller temples when one required a master. That was his life, his purpose. He had the skills and ability to lead others down the Path.
It was sign of terrible weakness that rather than his chants and prayers and forms, his mind was filled with thoughts of the amazing palace, bright and colorful meals shared with equally fascinating people, and an entrancing king and his equally fascinating harem.
Two short weeks and he'd already lost his way.
Was it entirely his fault, though, when his brothers had abandoned him to 'study' elsewhere in the palace? When the king had him so strangely captivated? When every night at dinner, Lord Beynum watched him, some unspoken challenge in his half-wild eyes? When Lord Nandakumar played so beautifully Aik ached to able to express how much he enjoyed listening?
He ached for a great deal, and that troubled him the most, but he could not place the blame for his weakness at the feet of someone else. The fault was his, and he would simply have to work harder to overcome it.
"I am glad you like it. You are not as … exuberant as your brethren and I worried you were unhappy."
Aik just barely resisted wrinkling his nose. Even Eldest was proving to be quite weak against the decadence of court life. It was strange and discouraging to see his mentor drinking and laughing and acting much like a man of the court. It left him feeling as though he had nowhere to turn for help, never mind the humiliation for monks to behave so poorly. "I am humbled Your Majesty is concerned over my insignificant welfare."
"Hardly insignificant, Aikhadour. What are you reading?" The king lightly touched his shoulder, indicating that he should sit up.
"A memoir, Majesty, of a monk who traveled extensively to further his studies."
"Ah, I recall the book. Quite a fascinating man."
Aik blinked, surprised. "Yes," he agreed at last. Master
had always been so strict about remaining secluded in the mountain temple. There were few good reasons to leave it—this trip certainly was not one of them. Were he around, Master would no doubt disapprove of Aik's selection. "It is admirable that he resisted so much temptation and stuck to his true path." Unlike Aik, who every day felt a little more lost.
"Mmm," Shah said thoughtfully. "I do not see it that way. In traveling, he explored every option. After examining each choice, he still knew the religious path was the right one for him. How do you ever know your path if you do not explore all of them to some degree?" He watched Aik intently.
Aik dropped his gaze and looked blankly at the pages before him.
"You grew up in the mountain temple, did you not?" Shahjahan asked in an abrupt change of subject.
"Yes," Aik answered, then hastily corrected himself. "Yes, Majesty."
Shahjahan smiled briefly, and Aik was struck by how boyish it seemed. "That would explain your impressive composure. If you have lived on the mountain so long, you must be familiar with the flowers common there."
Aik nodded, feeling it would be idiotic to keep repeating 'yes, Majesty.'
"My gardens hold quite a variety; I am afraid I share my mother's passion for flowers. I have more than even a king needs, and I confess they are an indulgence. All of them are beautiful, but there are two flowers I prefer above all others. One is a lovely desert rose, such as is only found in this country. Quite lovely, of rare quality, and the only one left. The rest of the bush, I'm afraid, rotted and was thrown out. The second flower is a simple wildflower, native to nothing, and makes a home wherever it finds fertile soil. It's flourished quite nicely in my garden, far better than it would have otherwise, or so I like to think."
"Majesty?" Aik asked, uncertain as to what he was really saying.
"Two weeks ago I realized my garden was missing something." Shahjahan gazed at him until Aik once more dropped his eyes. "Mountain lilies are as strong as they are beautiful. It's said the strongest of them could survive even frost. They flourish where many equally lovely flowers would not dare to go. An interesting balance, I think, to a rose and a wildflower."
Aik didn't jump when Shahjahan suddenly tilted his chin up with gentle fingers, but he could not prevent a sharp intake of breath. "Your companions are not surviving this atmosphere; even your Eldest is withering, overwhelmed by a soil too rich with things that may as well be poison. You, however, seem to be taking to it well. I believe you would flourish, were you to remain and join my garden, but it is your path to choose." The fingers slid away.
He swore he could hear his heart beating in his chest, so hard he thought it might burst out. How badly he wanted, now that the path had been opened. To never leave … to meet the challenge in the eyes that sat across from him each night … to tell … show the beautiful Nandakumar how much he adored his melodies. To always be close to this king who held him entranced. Aik licked his dry lips and leaned slightly forward, not quite certain what to do, not trusting himself to speak.
Shahjahan seemed to know his thoughts, however, because he leaned across the remaining space between them and took Aik's mouth in a possessive, consuming kiss. There were always monks who engaged in such things, and they had tried to convince Aik to play with them. He had always turned away, never anything more than slightly annoyed and vaguely amused by the idiotic weaknesses to which his brothers fell prey.
There was nothing annoying or remotely amusing about Shahjahan's kiss. It was hot and consuming, startlingly bold and flavored slightly of wine. It made him dizzy and breathless, but at the same time he felt as though he'd found something for which he had not known he was looking. This was not a path he ever would have considered, but he knew now it was the one he wanted to walk. "Majesty …"
"Shah, my monk," Shah said with a smile. "If you are mine, you must call me Shah."
Aik shivered at the possessive phrasing. "Shah," he said obediently, and leaned in for a second kiss.
*~*~*
"Do you miss temple life at all?" the master asked with seeming idleness.
Aik did not immediately reply, though his answer required no thought. "I do not. It was what I needed, in my early years. The temple helped to make me what I am, but ultimately I believe they crafted me for my true path, which is at my king's side."
The master nodded. "Your master misses you. I think he does, to some degree, blame himself for your 'fall' into decadence." He stared out across the garden they were in, ignoring the guards who had accompanied Aik when the master had requested an audience. "You were his prize pupil, you know. He had hoped to make you his heir."
Aik stilled, genuinely surprised by the Master's words. "I had not realized my former master thought so highly of me. Several of my brothers were far more skilled than I."
"You might be surprised," the master said. "More than your former master missed you, and to this day they speak of you, wondering if perhaps they did something wrong. The master rarely let any of his pupils leave the Temple to study elsewhere."
"He never approved of monks leaving." As intimidated as he'd been upon his initial arrival, Aik had never regretted his decision to leave the temple to study at the palace. Even had he chosen to return to the Temple, he sensed there were lessons in the journey that would have served his monk's life well. "It is my opinion that to lock them away will inhibit their studies as much as he believes traveling would. One cannot know one's path without first seeing all that is available."
The master smiled. "Wise words." He motioned vaguely in the air. "I am sorry if I offended you at dinner the other night. I speak often with your former master, and you never fail to become a subject of conversation. He truly misses you, and worries for you, and I wanted to carry word to him that you are happy, and on a true path. I can tell him so now, and I think it will ease him. I thank you for your patience and indulgence, Lord Aikhadour." Standing, the master bowed, then without another word turned and left the garden.
Aik watched him go, then smiled faintly. He looked at the guard. "Report this conversation to my king," he said.
"Yes, Lord Aikhadour," the guard said. "His Majesty also sent word that, should you feel like it when your conversation is concluded, he would enjoy your presence at his council meeting."
"Of course," Aik said.
Witcher
"Witcher," Shahjahan cupped Witcher's face in one hand, leaning down to take a kiss from pale pink lips which tasted of honey and almonds, a hint of lemon.
"Shah …" Witcher opened to the kiss, his immediate compliance as stunning the thousandth time as it had been the first. That a man who could have been all but a king himself should bend so easily never failed to steal his breath. "What's wrong?"
Shah sat back reluctantly, but did not make any attempt to eat the late snack that had been brought. "Tomorrow's visit weighs on my mind."
Witcher tilted his head. "You fear something will go awry? Betrayal?" He paused, gazing pensively. Shah met the sky blue eyes, as drawn to them as he had always been. "Do you fear their effect upon me?"
"Hardly the last," Shah said, waving it away like he would command his table be cleared. "So far as that goes, I fear only that they will upset you." He hesitated; only a heartbeat of time, but a hesitation all the same. "Your place is with me. I do not doubt you will remain there."
"Yes, you do," Witcher said with a faint smile. He reached up and tugged Shah down on top of him, burying them amongst a wealth of pillows. "You worry for naught. I belong right here."
Shah kissed him hard, deep, tongue tasting honey and almonds, lemon and the flavor that was unique to Witcher. He was always so hot, such a contrast to the pale skin and hair that looked as though they should be cool to the touch. "Are you really mine?"
For reply, Witcher simply continued to kiss him, fingers running through his short, thick hair. "You doubt it?"
"Doubt I can truly be so fortunate."
At that Witcher did laugh. "Majesty, your fortune is what you are bold
enough to take."
Shah smiled into their kiss, then shifted them on the pillows, holding Witcher's wrists in one hand and thrusting a thigh between his legs. "Then I will take you."
"You already have me."
"Yes," Shah kissed him again, this time softly, slowly. This time there was no hesitation when he spoke. "I do." With a last lick, he abandoned Witcher's lips to explore his throat, feeling the sighs and moans as more of that pale skin was bared for his attention. His hands set to the task of unfastening the skirt and pants that, though they looked so good on his men, were ever irksome in removing. Far too much fabric; if he were not so greedy, he would simply have them walk around nude.
Witcher laughed, the sound ragged and breathless. "You don't have time for this."
Shah responded with a laugh of his own. "If I waited until I had time, I would never get to do it." He leaned up to give Witcher another kiss. "You are beautiful, Witcher."
