If Amyar knew what Rouden had done, he was sure Amyar would never forgive him.
Chapter Eleven
Idyll in a Cottage
Amyar awoke as the first rays of sunlight broke through the shutters of the cabin’s windows. Or was it a cottage? He’d heard of small, rustic houses like this. He had relatives who rented them when they visited other provinces and royal accommodations either didn’t exist or were full. The air smelled sweet, almost as if sugar had been dispersed into the air.
Rouden lay on the mat next to him. His sheet had fallen away revealing one of his muscular legs. He breathed like a wotwot snark, one of those mammoth mammals that made its home in Oranto’s oceans. Rouden seemed to hold his breath for several seconds before letting it go explosively. Then something clearly bothered him. He grumbled something unintelligible and flipped over so that his back was to Amyar.
Amyar lay there realizing he had no idea what to do next. He was hungry but didn’t know where he would get food or when Rouden would get him something to eat. He had no idea how he would complete his morning ablutions or who would help him. Rouden had rescued him, but did not seem amenable to doing much more.
Sounds started to filter in. Bird song, but he couldn’t identify the birds. Somewhere water was flowing. Maybe a nearby stream? The leaves rustled. Amyar hoped that was just the wind. He looked at Rouden once more. He had flipped over again. His eyes were open.
“Now what?” said Amyar.
“Breakfast.”
Rouden got up. His clothes were rumpled from the night sleeping on the floor. He ran a hand through his hair, and then he left.
Amyar still didn’t know what to do with himself. There was no one to draw his morning bath. Of course, he could do it himself. He’d done it a couple of times so far on this trip, but he wasn’t sure this cabin, which in daylight appeared to have only one room, even had a bath. And he didn’t have soap. Or body cream. And he just realized he’d been wearing the same clothes as yesterday. He’d slept in them. Dried bits of dirt fell from the trousers and shirt. The seat of the trousers still felt slightly damp. His scalp itched. He felt like an arf, one of the many great unwashed Thasali subjects. This could not be. He had to remember, hold onto who he was. He may have been seeing the world outside the palace, but he was not about to become one of them.
At least this mat didn’t make Amyar itch like the cot. As he sat up, it occurred to him that he now had freedom of a sort. He was out of that cell, but now he wasn’t sure where he was. All he knew was that he had just woken up from a thankfully dreamless sleep in a cabin that had been built by the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. There was a small table next to his mat, much like the table that had been in the cell. Something on the table caught his eye. He could scarcely believe it. His royal ring. He picked it up and examined it. The gemstones were still in place. It still glittered. It was his, the ring that one of Rouden’s compatriots had taken.
Still holding it, he cast his mind back over the past few days. He couldn’t escape the sense that his first foray into the wide world had thus far been a failure and that his mother had been right. But another part of his mind rebelled against that thought.
How else will I learn anything useful?
Perhaps the most useful thing he’d learned was General Eppon’s plan to take Tanshar’s water unilaterally. He had to figure out a way to let the Matriarch know.
It struck Amyar as madness, but while he lay on the cot in the safe house cell, he’d remembered some readings one of his tutors had given him several years ago. They were histories of some of Oranto’s royal families. They didn’t read like the histories he’d read previously that told him those of royal blood were inherently superior. These were more critical of royals and more forthcoming about how some of the royal families had acquired wealth and power. He was flabbergasted at first to learn that some of them, including the early Thasali royals, had started out as ordinary. They were like everyone else but more willing than others to indulge their greed and capacity for violence and duplicity, as well as to exploit their cunning for gain. They hadn’t been specially anointed to rule, as countless Thasali royal children, including Amyar, had been taught for generations. He had wondered then how the tutor had managed to get the materials approved to be used to teach royal children. He’d been alarmed at first, but then felt a strange sort of pride. The tutor must have thought Amyar was intelligent enough to be shown that there was more to the royal families than the royals wanted anyone to know.
He couldn’t remember the tutor’s name. A corpulent man with a bald head and a silky, long black beard, he simply disappeared one day and was never mentioned again.
Amyar stood and stretched. His body ached from the thin mat that did little to soften the hard floor. His face felt better, but he had no mirror to judge the damage or whether it had begun to heal. He no longer tasted blood. He assumed his face was as dirty as the Tansharian garb he wore. A rumbling sound from his stomach reminded him that he’d need to eat soon. He saw the pack Rouden had carried with him during their escape on the floor. He reached down and picked it up. Rummaging through it, he found a small bag that contained the remnants of the dried meat they’d eaten the night before. Last night, he hadn’t paid much attention to the taste. He was so hungry and so tired that his brain was in a fog.
The meat was a bit stringy but it was spicy and actually tasty even if it was dry. Water. He needed water. An earthenware jug next to his mat was nearly full. He picked it up and brought his nose close to it. He sniffed. A fresh, clean aroma. Water. He gulped down most of it in one go. It really was very good, crisp, and fresh.
He took another sip as Rouden stepped inside. In one hand, he carried a small pail filled with water. He carried a cloth in his other hand.
“I brought you these if you’d like to wash up,” he said.
Amyar’s mouth fell open at the sight of Rouden. The Tansharian rebel looked so appealing standing there. He was shirtless and had already cleaned himself up. His hairless chest had a light tan. He’d put his long, dark brown hair into a ponytail. It even looked like he’d shaved. His beard was less scruffy, much neater now. Amyar closed his mouth and set the jug down.
Rouden walked up to Amyar and put the pail on the ground. He handed Amyar the wash cloth and a small bluish-green bar that had a waxy feel to it. The bar of soap didn’t look like anything he’d ever seen in the palace. Amyar looked down at the cloth and the soap, puzzled.
“What am I supposed to do with these?” The prince rubbed the gray cloth between his thumb and index finger as he gripped the bar with his other hand. “Where is your bath?”
Rouden rolled his eyes. This infuriated Amyar. It was one thing to laugh, but you didn’t roll your eyes at a prince, not even the youngest one, without consequences. Then he remembered where he was.
Amyar took off his shirt. More flecks of dirt fell from it as he tossed it aside. He noticed Rouden smirk at him and then the shirt. Amyar concentrated on trying to remember how his main servant, Nasmaxie, had cleaned him every morning. Obviously, Amyar wasn’t paying that much attention to what the servant did, but he did know that it involved a cloth dipped in water. Then, somehow, he ended up clean. The desire to get clean now drove him to recall more details. He dipped the cloth in water and then rubbed the soap against the cloth’s rough surface. A musky aroma flooded his nostrils. The soap that Nasmaxie had used on him had had a delicate, flowery scent. This strong, slightly sweet odor was different but not unpleasant.
He rubbed the wet cloth over his chest, desperate to wash off the stench of that basement room Rouden had helped him escape from. The cold water made his nipples hard. He took off his pants, revealing an emerging erection. Before he could cover it with his hand, he noticed Rouden staring at it.
Seems like he likes what he sees.
Amyar continued to dunk the washcloth in the pail. He cleaned his cock, which was getting harder. He tried to keep his breathing even. He had an irrational need not
to give any indication how turned on he was. Maybe it was a way of proving, at least to himself, that he had some control. There was a lot of dirt on his legs. Who knew how they had handled his body when he’d been unconscious? It looked like he’d been dragged through mud. There were also a few scrapes from crawling through that tunnel.
Rouden had pulled his cock out of his trousers and was massaging it to full hardness.
“Wait. You must take care of me first.” It didn’t occur to Amyar that he had said the wrong thing until he saw the look on Rouden’s face. The only other time he’d seen that mix of anger and mortification on a face was when he was about eight years old and he and his older brothers Costa and Vidnar had to face the wrath of the Matriarch after they’d been caught pushing one of her servants into a water fountain. He saw the anger seemingly dissipate from Rouden’s face.
“No,” Rouden said, his eyes narrowed.
The prince understood immediately that the former harem boy was challenging him. In any other place, if they were back at the harem, Amyar would know how to respond. Of course, if they were back at the harem, Rouden wouldn’t have had the nerve to say no to him.
“I didn’t mean it like that, Rouden. I—”
Rouden smirked as he continued to massage his cock. “How did you mean it, then?”
Amyar knew he had to choose his words carefully, but it was hard for him to think. He found it difficult to look away from Rouden’s cock as he felt a stirring in his own dick. The tingling was hard to ignore.
“Old habits. I forget that I am not at home anymore.” Amyar shook his head and said almost to himself, “I wanted adventure.”
“What?” asked Rouden.
“Nothing,” Amyar said, once more mesmerized by the Rouden’s rhythmic massaging of his cock.
Amyar took that as his cue to start jacking off himself, something he hadn’t done since he was a teenager. After he’d had access to the harem he’d relied on its members to meet his needs. Even more recently when he started looking for more of a challenge he still turned to the harem.
He dropped the washcloth in the pail. His hand approached his cock. He heard Rouden say, “no.”
Amyar looked up confused. Rouden said, “no,” more loudly as he slowly stroked his now hard cock.
The prince was confused and exasperated, but he knew better this time than to bark an order. Still, people like Rouden didn’t roll their eyes at him, and they certainly didn’t say, “no.” But he had to admit, it made him want to krask Rouden right then and there. He took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of wood emanating from the walls and that fresh masculine smell he loved so much. That smell came from Rouden.
Rouden jacked off until his cum landed on the wood floor. Then he tucked his dick away into his pants and turned away.
“What? Are you going to stand there all day with your dick out? We have work to do.”
Amyar looked down at his cock, frustrated. No harem boy ever left a royal unsatisfied. He pulled up his pants carefully and followed Rouden outside, wondering if the gorgeous rebel would ever let him touch him.
*~*~*
The prince spent much of the rest of the day following Rouden around. They first walked over to a hole in the ground topped with a wooden contraption with a rope and a bucket. Rouden lowered the bucket. When he brought it up, it was full of water. He poured the water into flasks for later and left them on the ground.
They were walking away when he said, “If you want to drink tonight, pick those flasks up. They won’t make it to the cabin on their own.”
Amyar was again stunned and started to wonder if he was still a hostage. He patted the pocket of his trousers. His royal ring was still there. He wondered if he should put it on, but thought better of it when he realized that Rouden would probably just laugh at it and him.
Their next stop was a stack of wood. Rouden pulled out an axe hidden under a pile of leaves next to a tree. Two huge tree limbs sat nearby. Rouden went over to one of the limbs and quickly chopped it into smaller pieces. He then handed the axe to Amyar and nodded at the other limb. Smiling, he sat on the ground, his back against a nearby tree.
Amyar looked down at the axe. It could easily be used as a weapon, but he didn’t know what to do with it. He could strike Rouden down, but then what? He didn’t know where he was. Without Rouden he could die in this forest, either because nature overcame him or the rebels found him. Amyar decided to chop wood.
His first attempts were clumsy, which seemed to amuse Rouden. This irritated Amyar and prompted him to try harder. There was only so much disrespect he could take. Misshapen wood shards flew everywhere, but he was happy he was only cutting wood and not himself. Out of the corner of his eye, Amyar noticed that Rouden did seem at least a little impressed, but whether it was with his wood chopping skill or something else, he wasn’t entirely sure.
On the way back to the cabin, Rouden picked some wild greens. He stopped by some fishing lines hanging in a deep gorge and pulled out two fish. Amyar was still hungry. He hoped everything they were bringing back was edible.
They returned to the cabin as Oranto’s second sun was peaking in the sky and its rays were sharp. Rouden flash grilled the fish, and they sat down at the dining table in the cabin. Rouden laid out a spread of sallabeast jerky and bread taken from his compatriots and the freshly cooked fish, which had been singed to a dark red brown. He filled glasses with water from the flasks Amyar had carried. The final part of the meal consisted of bowls filled with the fresh picked greens.
They ate in near silence. Rouden lowered his head and gave thanks to a spirit Amyar had never heard of. Then he ate.
To Amyar, the greens looked like animal feed. He’d never eaten greens that he’d watched get pulled from the ground. Actually, he had no idea where his food came from or who made it. He’d never eaten greens that were uncooked or unspiced. The jerky and bread pulled on his teeth. They were both so tough. The fish was soft, and the water was crisp. He chewed on the greens, like Rouden did. The flavors were strong and unlike anything he’d eaten before. When he got home, he’d have to ask his chef about meals like this.
Ah yes, home.
Amyar wasn’t sure what to say, but Rouden had trusted him. The prince wondered if he could trust the former harem boy turned independence fighter with his knowledge of the plot against Tanshar and the Matriarch. Looking across the table at Rouden, the prince decided that the rebel was probably his only hope for getting a message to the Matriarch. As much as it alarmed him, Amyar realized he had no choice but to trust this man he barely knew.
“How long will I be here?” the prince asked finally.
Rouden nodded toward the door. “You can leave at any time,” he said. “But I don’t recommend it. I doubt you have the skills to survive in the woods. And my friends will probably be looking for you. They won’t hesitate to kill you.” He continued to eat and seemed to be waiting for a response.
Amyar shifted on the stool, wondering when he could get a pair of clean trousers to wear. “Before the negotiations began, I learned something shocking. Well, I think it’s shocking. I wasn’t meant to know it.”
“What’s that?” Rouden flicked a piece of fish into his mouth and chewed.
Again, Amyar hesitated. “I overheard General Eppon talking with a few of the other men, including my cousin, about a plan, their plan, to get control of Tanshar’s water.”
“That’s not shocking. That’s what Thasali have always wanted—control of our water.” Rouden locked eyes with Amyar and took a swig of water as if all the water in Tanshar was his. He slammed his glass back on the table.
Amyar shook his head. “No. The general and the others want the water for themselves. The general brought a much larger force with us than he was supposed to. They’re soldiers loyal to him and not Thasali. They were supposed to cross over into Tanshar during the negotiations. I think they did. I think my cousin, Timendum, is involved in this.”
When Rouden didn’t respond, Amyar a
dded, “And the Matriarch doesn’t know about this.”
Rouden seemed intrigued. “How is that possible?”
“She has her spies, and she gets regular briefings about internal affairs, but it isn’t just discontented Tansharians who want to overthrow my family. One of my tutors, a crusty old man, gave me some readings, histories about some of Oranto’s royal families.”
“So what? We all have to learn about the royal families.”
Amyar looked straight at Rouden. “I’d wager you didn’t learn this. You and I learned the founding myths about the families—anointed to rule by the heavens, given the keys to the realm by celestial beings and so on. What my old tutor gave me were unauthorized writings about the families. The founding of most royal families, including Thasali, was made possible by criminality in some form in most cases. And in many cases, someone in the royals’ inner circle plotted their way to the top. That’s what General Eppon is trying to do.”
Rouden let out a brief, biting laugh and made mocking gestures with his hands. “I may have learned the founding myths about the families, but we Tansharians have never been fooled by the nonsense about the royals being anointed by celestial beings. Our fathers and mothers and their fathers and mothers and their fathers and mothers before them handed down stories of the treachery and betrayal of us and other ordinary people in other provinces by those that call themselves royal. It makes sense that they’d treat each other just as badly. That they—you—are just ordinary humans.”
Amyar bristled at Rouden’s smug tone, but he didn’t have a biting reply. He knew what Rouden said was true. He looked upward as if the answers were in the sky and then returned his gaze to the man. “We have to get word to the Matriarch.”
Rouden looked incredulous. “The general wants to put himself in the Matriarch’s place? Sounds very risky.”
Tales of the Thasali Harem Box Set Page 25
