A Swithin Spin: A Princely Passion

by Sharon Maria Bidwell

  Kilan stifled a moan as he turned into a corridor teeming with people, so crowded he couldn’t appreciate the white stone or ornate arched supports and doorways. The light even dimmed as bodies blocked all but the vaulted reaches of the leaded windows. It wasn’t that the Swithin suffered from overpopulation; it was just a busy time of day, and many of his fellow citizens blocked his way. The ruling council gathered at this hour, and part of the arrangement he had made with his brother dictated he would always attend closed sessions, if not all the open ones. In open council, people sought justice and advice. Closed session presided over the internal decisions required to govern the city. Kilan was heading that way when he looked up into a startling pair of amber eyes. That very morning, he had just reached the conclusion that Antal was avoiding him so his problem was solved. Perversely, that idea did nothing to resolve his dilemma. The thought of seeing Antal solely as a friend did all sorts of painful things to his mind, body, and heart. He wanted Antal -- he just didn’t know if he could cope with a real relationship. He tried to quash the nauseating hope that plagued the recesses of his heart, and told himself it was best that whatever they’d shared ended. When he entertained the idea that a proper relationship was a possibility, his courage faltered. In all likelihood it was pointless to try as he’d only make a mess of it.

  Kilan’s step faltered even though he was in a hurry. Antal looked equally surprised, but he walked smoothly, quickly turning his head to his companion, saying something that in the general bustle failed to reach Kilan’s ears. The other guard nodded and carried on, not once slowing his pace. Antal slowed, and as he and Kilan came face-to-face, he smiled.

  “A quiet word?” The cadence of his voice made it a question, and the tilt of his head indicated a nearby corridor. Kilan nodded, unable to speak, and followed Antal into the adjacent hallway.

  “I’ve not seen you,” Kilan began, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut the moment the words slipped out. He sounded almost accusing.

  “I’ve been busy,” Antal replied.

  Try as he might, Kilan couldn’t decipher any specific emotion in his words. Had Antal missed him? If not, why talk now? Why not just nod and move on by? Kilan struggled not to hop about as he stood there. He could swear someone had lit coals under his feet. “You must have been very busy,” he said, almost as reproachfully. “I’ve not even…”

  A man and woman walked by, and although in conversation, Kilan paused until they passed. The quieter corridor seemed almost too quiet. Maybe Antal could hear his heart thudding abnormally fast. Antal raised an eyebrow in question, and at a loss of what to say, Kilan ended up finishing the sentence he’d started. “I’ve not even caught a glimpse of you in passing.” It sounded like such a lame observation; he wanted to smack a hand against his forehead.

  “You’re on your way to council?”

  Kilan nodded.

  “Then I won’t keep you.”

  Kilan didn’t know what to think upon hearing those words. No. Oh no! The rush of panic took him unawares. He hadn’t seen Antal for several days, and here, the moment when he had his chance, he came off sounding an idiot. Not only that, Antal was about to walk away before they’d addressed the situation between them. Kilan almost laughed. He didn’t even know if a situation existed.

  “Kilan?”

  “Antal?”

  Both spoke the other’s name, almost in unison. They looked at each other, and both laughed. It at least broke some of the tension, but the moment Antal spoke, Kilan’s apprehension soared once more.

  “We’re not acting very Swithin-like, are we?”

  Kilan shook his head. “No.”

  The Swithin way was more honest, direct questions, the acceptance of a refusal. The Swithin way would probably include a hug. It would definitely include understanding on both sides. The Swithin suffered heartache. The Swithin race suffered the pangs of rejection as much as anyone did. They suffered unrequited love, and though rare, relationships failed. The Swithin were simply more pragmatic about such things and in many ways more sympathetic. If someone didn’t love you, there was no point in trying to force them to develop such feelings. Kilan understood the logic of that, as all Swithin did. You accepted, you went through the grieving process, and you carried on with your life without shame. No shame in loving someone who didn’t love you and no shame in him or her being unable to return your love. Neither person looked at the other with contempt nor ridiculed such emotions. Families and friends were supportive when one needed them. Kilan didn’t fear Antal’s rejection so much as he fought an internal war. He wasn’t at all sure what he wanted. He preferred women or had always believed he did. He didn’t love Antal, did he? He felt attracted to him maybe, but that wasn’t love, yet what else could he call it when he…wanted so much. He longed for everything he saw and felt in his dreams. All he knew was that since that night in the glade, he’d yearned, waiting to see Antal again as well as dreading the moment. This moment…

  “I have been busy,” Antal said. He spoke gently, sounding sincere. “I hadn’t realized until I took a break that what I needed was a day off now and then. Ryanac was right. I’ve worked too hard. I wanted to prove myself to…everyone.” He looked Kilan in the eyes. “To my father,” he admitted, even though it sounded difficult for him to say. “I wanted to prove myself to me, if I’m honest.” He gave a rueful smile. “I can ease up now. I have to learn to delegate, and so that’s what I’ve been doing: delegating. Things are running more smoothly now.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it,” Kilan said. He also felt a little disappointed. He had hoped that Antal would talk about the two of them, not his duties.

  “I’ve also needed time to think.”

  “Think?” Kilan purposely strove to keep any hope from his voice, especially since he didn’t even know what he was hoping for.

  Time to think. Antal almost laughed. That didn’t even cover what he’d been going through. “I’m keeping you,” he blurted out suddenly, gaze flicking toward the main corridor. Strange that so much activity should be going on just a few feet away, and he and Kilan stood here in what felt like a hushed, spiritual atmosphere.

  “Keeping me?” Kilan sounded puzzled.

  Realizing such a phrase could have a double meaning, Antal elaborated. “You need to get to council,” he reminded the other man. “We should talk some other time.” Did Kilan’s expression fall? Had the prince been hoping he meant something else? Kilan was fidgeting, acting nervous and jittery. Antal had surmised that maybe Kilan didn’t want to talk, but the expectant look on his face said otherwise, as did his reply.

  “No. I have a few minutes. Finish what you were saying.”

  Was that an eager lilt in Kilan’s voice? Kilan wasn’t being entirely honest. If he left now, he’d make it to council on time. In a few minutes he’d have to set off running. That would earn him a few smirks, not that Kilan would notice or care. Antal knew Kilan well enough to know it would be a waste of time trying to talk him into leaving. It would take as long to argue with him as to say what he was thinking. He almost shrugged, but that would make his words seem more casual than he intended.

  “I’ve been thinking about us and what I want or don’t want.” That made it sound so simple when his feelings weren’t simple at all. “Would you be interested,” Antal asked, “in discussing our situation, or do you just want to leave things as they stand?”

  Kilan hesitated. That hesitation alone was peculiar among the Swithin, but Antal remained patient. “I take it you’re willing to discuss it if I am?” Kilan finally asked.

  “I believe I just said that.” Antal couldn’t tell what Kilan was staring at. He wasn’t sure Kilan focused on anything. He looked dazed. Finally, his gaze flicked up to Antal’s face.

  “Then…discuss it.”

  “You’ll be late.”

  “Discuss it,” Kilan insisted, a harder tone creeping into his voice.

  Antal reflected only for a moment. His logic told him he was mad to get i
nvolved with the prince. Kilan was irresponsible, usually looking for the easiest solution. He was also caring, attentive, kind, would always do the right thing no matter how difficult or ultimately painful he found that to be, no matter how much he complained about it. Despite the prince’s seemingly erratic behavior, Antal saw much more in Kilan than most people took the time to notice, and he believed Kilan was just what he needed right now. He’d thought long and hard about Kilan the last few days until he felt certain what he wanted and equally convinced it would suit Kilan’s temperament. He’d gone over Kilan’s responses in the cave: the way he’d done as instructed, the way he’d enjoyed submitting. Something Kilan didn’t know about himself yet was that he was naturally passive. That suited what Antal needed to balance his life, but he would have to show Kilan that what he wanted was exactly what the young prince craved, even if he didn’t know it.

  Kilan was at war with himself, and in passivity he found peace. Antal wanted to give him that peace. Oddly, Antal had returned knowing exactly what he wanted from Kilan. He’d spent the last few days organizing other parts of his life except this one, maybe the most important part. He’d taken the time to consider how he could show Kilan the way they could both have what they wanted.

  “Very well, then. Are you interested in a serious relationship or some…fun?” Antal purposely used the word that Kilan so often used.

  “I don’t know.” Kilan’s gentle laugh sounded a little self-deprecating. Antal joined in the laughter a breath later.

  “Neither am I. I’ve always seen myself with a woman, having a family.”

  “I’ve never looked that far ahead. If anything, I’ve never seen myself settled with anyone. So where does that leave us?” Kilan asked with a grin. The tightness around his eyes belied the grin, revealing the nervousness behind it. Clearly, Kilan felt amusement, even enjoyed this. He also felt apprehensive. His gaze looked questioning and anxious.

  “All the time I’ve been thinking, I couldn’t see that far into the future. The most I can envision is what I want to do with you right now.” Antal paused, looking for Kilan’s reaction. He watched until he found what he was looking for. Kilan seemed shocked, but beneath the shock lay excitement, longing…and desire. “Do you want to take this thing further? Do you want to see what happens?”

  He waited for Kilan’s nod. Even then he hesitated. Standing here in a corridor wasn’t an ideal situation. He hadn’t imagined this scenario, but then, in life, how often did things work out precisely as one imagined them? How many marriage proposals happened under imperfect circumstances? What he was going to suggest could be just as binding in time if it proved they suited each other. The perfect moment to suggest this would never arrive. If he was going to ask Kilan why not now?

  “Do you want to see what I have in mind?”

  A longer pause ensued before the nod came this time, but come it did. Antal glanced about and then stepped closer. Not so close that it would look peculiar, but close enough. The side corridor remained empty for the moment, and Antal tilted his body so that no one could see what he drew from his pocket. No one but Kilan, anyway. He let the collar hang from his index finger and dangled it in front of Kilan’s gaze.

  The most I can envision is what I want to do with you right now. Kilan gulped. He heard as well as felt it, and he knew Antal heard him swallow. He turned cold, felt detached; his gaze narrowed, shrank down to a single object. It wasn’t just an object, though. It was a symbol of something he’d never contemplated. His mind flashed back to the cave. Antal had been the one in charge then. He’d longed to see Antal all week, but what, truly, had he been longing for? It struck him that in all the scenes he’d run through his mind, Antal instigated the proceedings more often than not. Did Antal see something in him that he hadn’t even known existed?

  Kilan sensed he hovered on the edge of a mental and emotional epiphany. He had absolute faith in Antal, absolute trust. Most everyone did. Even trapped in the cave, Kilan had felt safe. He didn’t feel certain he could consent to wear a collar, for he knew only too well what it symbolized, and yet still he felt safe. He felt nervous, sick to his stomach almost, his throat threatening to tighten up and close, yet he felt safe.

  Try as he might to drag his gaze from the item swaying in front of his eyes, he couldn’t do so. The loop simply mesmerized him. The collar possessed flexibility. He could tell by the way it hung it would feel soft against his skin. He felt certain the width had been chosen on purpose, though he set the question of why aside. The stitches holding the buckle in place and the finely fashioned holes were of excellent craftsmanship. The quality was unmistakable, as was its purpose. The way Antal let it hang from his finger, his body turned, the collar positioned between them so that Kilan had to look a little downward to view it, told Kilan that Antal hid it from anyone walking by in the main corridor. That wouldn’t stop anyone coming through the door at the other end from seeing it.

  He opened his mouth to say put that away, and Antal said, “Put it on.”

  Kilan stared at the collar. He stared and stared. Part of him was screaming, No no no! Another part of him felt something…devastating. His flee impulse kicked in, swiftly eradicated by an unfamiliar muffling blanket of… He didn’t know what. It didn’t feel like peace. He wasn’t calm enough for peace, but he felt something like it, something one felt rather than articulated. Hope?

  Antal. Collar. What does this mean?

  Those thoughts tumbled in his mind, along with other things. What would it feel like to allow this? What would it feel like to capitulate? Kilan couldn’t see himself giving in to another, but to Antal… Kilan swallowed. Yes, maybe he could do that. To Antal, maybe he could, one day, but this… This was too much too soon. In all the scenarios he’d imagined, this wasn’t one of them. He hadn’t prepared himself for this. Antal was breaking so many rules presenting such an item to him like this; that in itself would usually have appealed to his sense of anarchy, but not when he was the one in chaos.

  He was still staring, and Antal still waiting. The collar still dangled there in front of his face.

  “You’re not serious?” Kilan dragged his gaze from the collar to Antal’s face. What he saw there he hardly found comforting. The man looked highly amused. That amusement did funny things to Kilan, to his mind and his body. It did things he reluctantly didn’t want to accept. “Put that away!” Kilan at last managed to say.

  Antal shook his head. “Put it on.” He pulled his hand back as Kilan reached for it. “I’m not going to let you snatch it and hide it in a pocket. Let me put it on you.”

  Let me put it on you. Oh how he wanted to say yes. The force of that desire frightened him. He made another lunge for the collar, and Antal pulled it away. Kilan stared at Antal in disbelief. “You’ll really do it, won’t you? If I make a grab for it, you’ll have me chasing you around this corridor, attracting attention.”

  “Yes, I will. This isn’t something we Swithin hide.”

  “I know, but it’s…it’s private.”

  The Swithin had a word for what Antal was proposing: semaris meant taming. The Swithin considered it simply one aspect of sex, not something to conceal. Those in full semaris relationships were often quite public about it. The thing was, he wasn’t in a semaris relationship. He’d never considered such a thing, and why was Antal suggesting the collar go on him? He had the wrong idea. “Are you suggesting just a bit of fun or…or…” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

  “I’m not sure what I’m suggesting, but yes, a bit of fun to start with. We can see where it goes from there.”

  Where it goes from there? What did Antal mean by that? The quality of that collar suggested more than “a bit of fun.” He looked into Antal’s eyes, and deep down he knew that Antal suggested a bit of fun as a way to assess the situation, to give them an out if what he was suggesting didn’t work for them. No one could mistake the underlying seriousness in Antal’s eyes. That significance increased even as Kilan shook his h
ead. A collar was too formal. The item symbolized a bond between semaris partners. By accepting it, he would be telling Antal -- agreeing to something… He…

  Someone stepped into the corridor behind Antal, and Antal deftly palmed the collar out of view, laughing as if they’d just shared a joke. The respite was short-lived. When the passer-by had gone through the door at the far end, Antal produced the collar again. He moved his finger so that the collar swayed. Something about the way Antal did that and his gaze suggested he was enjoying this. As much as he tried not to, Kilan’s gaze followed the swaying movement. It took him a moment to accept that it had an almost hypnotic quality. He tore his gaze away.

  “This isn’t the way you’re supposed to ask me,” he accused, needing some way to be on the defensive. Such things could be used in harmless play, in which case his wearing the collar would have just been funny. However, obviously what Antal proposed wasn’t just play, his intention clearly serious.

  “I know. I apologize for that, but it feels right to ask you here, now, to jolt you into accepting.”

  As he’d struggled to look away from the collar, so now did he struggle to look away from Antal’s gaze.

  “Be honest, Kilan. If I had asked you formally” -- Antal stressed the word -- “you would have panicked and refused.”

  As if he wasn’t panicking now. Antal was right though. Given a formal semaris proposal, he wouldn’t even be contemplating the idea. Antal had done the right thing taking him unawares. Even so, he couldn’t do this.