At last Alban spoke, “If your aim is to avoid notice until you are well gone, I would not leave at this hour. The sentry at the gate will surely find it suspicious and will hold you until he can consult Father. If you leave just before the dawn, it will be easy enough to convince him that you merely wish to watch the sunrise from Teague’s Rest. Especially as I will accompany you that far.”
“You would do that for me? But I couldn’t allow my departure to come between you and your father.”
“Kieran, I would do anything for you. And as for my father, you have caused a rift already. And will cause further, as I refuse to hide from him that I knew of your leaving in advance. Or that I heard your queen calling you home. Or that I sensed in her mind, in those moments before the link severed, her hatred of my people and her desire for revenge.”
“Why would you help me, then?”
“When have I done anything else?”
Kieran let out a deep breath. “All right, then. What shall we do until then? I doubt either of us will be able to sleep.”
“I. . .” Alban shook his head. “Nothing.”
Kieran closed the distance between them and put his hands on Alban’s shoulders. “What? I should think there is nothing we cannot say. In the mind-link, we have been as intimate as two people can be.”
Alban gave him a tight, ironic smile at odds with his usual gentle, open demeanor. “Intimate. Interesting choice of words. This is our last night together. Will you lie with me?”
Breath left Kieran in a gust of surprise. “I’m not sure that would be a good idea.”
Alban pulled back. “Why not? Because of my lack of experience? I assure you that my healer’s knowledge would more than make up for any lack of practical—”
“Not that,” Kieran said, unable to bear Alban’s virgin insecurity.
Even if the reason Alban guessed was partly true, though not in the sense that the prince meant, it was not the only reason. The idea of taking Alban’s innocence, the responsibility it implied, frightened him as much as it aroused him.
“You are not attracted to me?”
An easy escape came to him, an easy lie, but he could not voice it. “How can you think that?” Kieran came forward, taking Alban’s hands. “You are the most beautiful person I have ever known. Not just your face and form—and I could write songs about your face and form. I have seen your very soul, when we healed together, and you are—” He laughed. “You rob a bard of words. What right has someone like me to touch someone like you?”
“The right belongs to whom I choose. I choose you.”
Kieran shook his head. He wanted this too much, and it could not be.
Alban stroked a thumb over the back of Kieran’s hand. “You forget, I saw you as you saw me. And what I saw was beautiful to me.”
“You are a Leas and I am a Scathlan.”
“Does that matter to you still?” The confidence in Alban’s voice said he knew that it didn’t, at least not in the sense it once would have.
Another bid for reason. “Our people—”
“Forget our people.” Alban’s voice was ardent now. “Does it matter to you?”
“No. Not anymore,” he said softly. “Not for a long time. But you are a prince and I a mere bard.”
Alban squeezed his hands. His small smile that said he realized that Kieran’s arguments were growing weaker.
“You who have twined souls with me,” Alban said. “Do you think that could matter to me?”
“But I am leaving before the sun rises.”
“Then give me the remains of the night.” Alban’s voice filled with passionate urgency. “I am not a maiden that you might leave with an unwanted child. And I know you have slept with others that mattered less to you and left without a backward glance. Why not with me?”
“Because you matter more.” Now it was his turn to squeeze Alban’s hands. “And because I mean more to you. I don’t want to break your heart.”
“You will. Unless you stay, you will. At least give me this.”
There could be only one answer. “Yes.”
Alban pulled him in for a kiss, then stepped back again, suddenly shy. No matter how much the Leas wanted this, Kieran knew the first time was always a little awkward.
“Would you be more comfortable in your room or mine?” Kieran asked.
“I have a better idea,” Alban said, and took his hand.
Alban led him through the castle, the fear of getting caught adding even more spice to the adventure. They went down to the wine cellars where Alban paused to steal two lit torches from their sconces, handing one to Kieran. Alban then detoured to the armory.
“Alban, are you crazy?” Kieran whispered fiercely.
“Hush. Do you want your father’s sword, or not?”
To think he had once thought Alban incapable of recklessness!
Sword secured, they went through a small door and down a narrow tunnel.
Kieran was about to protest that they would run out of time before they reached wherever it was that Alban was taking them when the tunnel opened up into a small cavern. Alban lit sconces that had been bolted into the walls, and the walls glittered with crystalline deposits left by the water that still trickled down in slow flows.
In the center of the cavern, a deep, round pool steamed, completely at odds with Kieran’s extensive experience of underground water, which tended to be cold as icemelt.
“The water comes up from the ground naturally heated. There seems to be some minerals dissolved in it. It is soothing and oddly buoyant.”
From the stiffness of the words, Kieran could tell that Alban was still nervous. He had not brought him here on whim. Clearly he had thought about this, imagined this for some time. Wanted this for some time. Wanted him.
Kieran had never been more than someone’s quick tumble. The responsibility of this moment awed him, made him nearly nervous as Alban.
No. If this was to go well, one of them had to at least act sure of themselves. And he wanted this to go well for Alban. Wanted it to be everything Alban had so obviously dreamed of.
“Shall we, then?” Kieran undressed with forced casualness, as though a soak in the hot water was his only goal.
Then he slipped into the water, watching out of the corner of his eye as Alban followed suit, sparing the prince a direct stare.
Grace, but he was lovely. Slight yet lithely muscled. The torchlight warmed the elf’s pale skin and glinted like gold in his pale hair.
He gave Alban time to soak, to let the relaxation of the hot water work its magic, before holding out a hand to him. “Come here.”
Alban pushed off from the side and half-floated over. Kieran caught him by the hand and gently drew him close, giving Alban time to pull away if he chose. Alban came to him, slowly, shyly. Kieran stroked his hand across Alban’s shoulders, feeling skin pleasantly slick from the mineralized water. He took a deep breath to steady himself. He was already hard.
“May I kiss you?” Kieran asked softly.
Alban tilted his head up in answer, and Kieran brushed their lips together gently until Alban opened his mouth to him. Then he dared more passion, twining their tongues together. Alban moaned, and it was the most erotic sound he’d ever heard. Kieran pulled Alban against his chest then, felt Alban’s hardness slick against his stomach.
Kieran pulled his mouth away to gasp aloud, then attacked Alban’s neck, making him writhe and groan. They were both close; he could finish this quickly in a torrent of pleasure, but he wanted more.
He pulled back slightly, letting the water rush between them. Alban frowned, but Kieran soothed him with hands sliding up his sides. Kieran bent to tongue Alban’s nipples, adding to the pleasure while varying it enough to stop the headlong rush to completion. Then he raised his head, meeting Alban’s eyes.
Alban looked away, suddenly shy. “I don’t know what to do. I mean I do, in theory, but I feel so stupid.”
Kieran smiled at him. “If you are still capable o
f complete sentences, I’m doing something wrong.”
He could take Alban in hand, make him forget himself in a rush of pleasure. That would be good, that would be excellent.
He was greedy. He wanted even more. And he wanted more for Alban.
“Mind-link with me.”
And, oh, Alban did. Tentatively at first, and then deeper and surer when he sensed that Kieran’s desire matched his own, when Alban knew that his innocence raised only protectiveness and care in Kieran. When he knew Kieran was as in awe of him as he was the bard.
They pressed together then, body and soul. And oh, had he really mistaken Alban’s virginity for innocence? The Leas used every bit of his healer’s knowledge, and Kieran’s experience barely allowed him to meet his challenge as they both took the sense of the other’s preferences and pleasures to send the flame higher and higher, joining so that Alban’s pleasure became indistinguishable from his own, until completion swept over them like wildfire.
Eighteen
They had little enough time before he would have to leave. Kieran dared not allow himself to fall asleep for fear of not waking until well after breakfast-time, and so he sat in the heated water, Alban in his arms, trying to achieve some perspective about their encounter and failing.
No other lover had ever shaken his world to its foundations, never before had he been laid open to his core. Never would it happen again.
When he was certain that Alban lay deep enough asleep not to hear him, he whispered into his hair. “I love you.”
A few stolen moments more, and then he kissed Alban awake. “It’s time.”
Alban stirred and opened his eyes. “Can you not stay a few more days?”
Tempting, so tempting. “That would only make this harder.”
Alban rose from the water, wet skin gleaming gold in the torchlight. “Is it hard for you? I thought you’d had many one-night affairs.”
“But no one like you.”
Alban dried without looking at him. “And have you told the same thing to the others?”
Kieran ignored the accusation in order to address the hurt beneath. He had not, after all, been completely honest with Alban about his feelings.
He came out of the water, dripping, to take Alban’s hands. “I have shared pleasure with others, yes. But I have never linked with them as I have with you, mind and body and soul. I don’t think I would let another in like that, even if they had the ability. And what happened between us tonight...” He huffed a small breath of almost-laughter. “If you think sharing pleasure is always like that, I feel for your next partner. He will surely be a disappointment.”
A soft flush crept up Alban’s cheeks, but he would not look at him. “You think a lot of yourself, don’t you?”
“Not me. Us. What we shared together. It’s never been like that before.”
Alban looked up at him then. “Is this bardic flattery?”
Kieran squeezed his hands. “Simple truth. I wish it were not, for now I have yet another reason to miss you.”
The attempt Kieran made at a lighter tone worked. Alban’s lips twitched up in the beginning of a smile.
Then Alban went serious. “You could stay if you wish.”
“I cannot. My queen calls, and I serve my queen as my father did before.”
They dressed then in silence, and in silence crept to the stables. It was a clear night, the moon still in the sky, the sun not quite showing his face on the horizon. They rode out, and when the sentry realized that it was the prince who passed through the gate, he made only cursory questioning. They continued in the colorless predawn, the sky paling slowly, the horses’ hooves the only sound in the stillness.
Alban halted his horse on a small, flat overlook. Kieran brought his gray mare alongside. Just ahead of the horses’ hooves, the ground dropped away, going from white granite to dark forest to the patchwork greens of farmers’ fields, subtle in the dim grey light. In the distance, jagged peaks stood black against a sky tinged an unlikely shade of petal-soft mauve by the first hints of the new day. Beneath the mountains lay the Shadowed Lands. Home.
Longing pulled at Kieran, as strong as duty, stronger than the call of his queen.
“So this is where we bid farewell,” Alban said quietly.
Kieran turned to regard Alban, pale and beautiful against the purple sky, and another kind of pain lanced through his heart, bright and sharp.
“There is no other way.”
“Would you stay if I asked you to?”
Kieran closed his eyes against the hurt. “You know I can’t.”
“I know that you will not.” Just a hint of bitterness tinged Alban’s words.
Kieran had been right to resist love of this kind. It hurt more than he imagined.
He nudged his mare closer to Alban’s horse and held out his hand. “Please, this will be the last time we see each other. Let us not part in anger.”
Alban hesitated, then took his hand and formed the link between them. Kieran opened up to him fully, let him see all his tumultuous emotions, let him see how much the previous night had affected him, let him see how much their parting tore at him. Felt in reply the depth of Alban’s love, felt the pain Kieran caused by his refusal to stay.
I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.
I know. Sometimes pain happens, and no one is at fault for it. Every healer knows this.
Kieran tightened his clasp on Alban’s hand. I’m sorry.
Alban squeezed his hand. Go. If you will not stay, then go now. He slipped from the link and released Kieran’s hand.
“Farewell, my Prince of Light.” Though his throat ached, he turned his mount away from Alban and started her toward home.
He barely heard Alban’s whispered reply, “Go with the Grace, beloved Fool.”
#
“You join us for breakfast twice in two days,” Father greeted him. “To what do we owe this honor?”
Alban took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “Kieran left for home this morning.”
His father went still. “Ah,” he said after a moment. “Well, I did state that he was a guest, not a prisoner. And I did tell you I wished him gone. Still, I wonder that my sentry did not see fit to inform me of the movement of a Scathlan through my gate.”
Alban swallowed. “That was probably because I rode out with him and indicated that we were intending to view the sunrise at Teague’s Rest. Uh, we did see the beginning of the sunrise there.”
“And when you returned, the guard had changed, and so did not question his prince returning alone from an early morning ride.”
He lowered his head. “Yes.”
“I’d ask what you were thinking, only clearly you weren’t. If nothing else, as his healer you should know he isn’t ready to travel. The bones may have knit, but that leg is still regaining its strength and flexibility. I’ve seen how he limps when he’s tired. He’s plagued us with his presence this long. Why did he not wait until he had his full strength back?”
Alban weighed his duties before answering. “His queen called him, and he would not wait.”
His father sighed. “There are many reasons that a queen would call a bard, but few of them are urgent. I fear we may all regret that I ever indulged your stray. Though I suppose, after all the times I’ve said I bear his queen no ill will, I had little choice in honor. I dislike that you aided the Scathlan in leaving without my knowledge or consent, but perhaps it is for the best. Otherwise I would be forced to decide between courtesy to a man I’ve named guest and the risk to my people of returning to the enemy a valuable tool. I only hope that you do not come to face your friend on the field of battle.”
The thought stole Alban’s breath like a plunge into a deep pool of icemelt. “Kieran would not!”
His father gave him an uncharacteristically dark smile. “Do you think you mean so much to him? He would not stay with you.”
But when Alban had gone into the room that had been Kieran’s, foolishly searching for some sen
se of him, he had found what Kieran had left for him. The carved rose, all that remained of his father’s harp, with a note that said simply, Remember me. It was not the sort of gift given lightly. It was also not the sort of thing he wanted to explain to his father.
“Not only for me,” Alban said instead. “He has made friends here. Enough to know that we are not the monsters he once thought we were.”
His father sighed, shaking his head. “Ah, to be so innocent again. Do you think there were not friendships between Leas and Scathlan before the war? Not as many as in the old days, it is true, but still there were friendships. The Scathlan that killed Trodaire’s husband had been at their wedding feast.”
“But surely it won’t come to war. There is no fresh cause for it. It fact, Kieran and I both have hope that our working together to wake his queen might heal old wounds.”
“For all our sakes, and yours most of all, I hope you are right.”
#
Kieran stopped at the first inn he came to, which happened to be the last inn he had been at before he encountered the Leas. He felt only relief when he discovered the barmaid he had spent such a pleasant evening with was now apparently in a relationship with the stable boy; he had not looked forward to explaining why he spurned her advances. What he had shared with Alban felt too deeply personal, and the wound of their parting too raw and new. The thought of bedding another so soon felt tawdry somehow.
If he didn’t overcome his feelings for the Leas prince, he’d live a life more solitary than he ever envisioned for himself.
He rose the next morning in an agony of aching muscles and dressed with slow, careful movements. The innkeep offered to let him stay another night or three—he more than paid for room and board by the increase in business that his music brought, and the longer he stayed, the wider word would spread and the more customers that would come.
Tempting. He did not look forward to the day’s ride, and a few more nights would mean a few more coins dropped in his hat from the appreciative and affluent among the audience. Though he could usually count on his harping skills to win him a roof for the night and an evening meal, he could not count on it always for a noon-day meal or for the incidentals of travel, such as a broken strap on the bridle or a thrown shoe.
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