The Fifth Son

by Blaine D. Arden

  I did, trying to regain my composure.

  "No, stay in one place. You need to get your arms in the right position first."

  I stopped, took a breath, raised my hands again, and punched. Left, right, right, left.

  "Raise the left, you keep dropping it."

  I raised my left and punched, going through the sequence of hits again, and again. Somehow not having to look at him made it easier to focus, to forget who he was.

  "Better. Can you feel the difference?"

  At first, I wasn't sure what he meant by feeling the difference, but as I kept punching, kept checking the position of my hands, my rhythm changed. It smoothed out, and my punches became tighter. I nodded.

  "Good. Keep it up."

  I kept punching until my mouth went dry and sweat started irritating my eyes. Taking deep breaths, I wiped the sweat off my forehead and. My hands felt like rocks as I lowered them. I could no longer avoid looking at Captain Ariv, and, of course, he was watching me with that grin on his face.

  "You have a good technique, Your Highness. Did your brothers teach you?"

  I snorted. "I've watched field trainings since I was little, I was bound to pick up something." No need to mention that my brothers weren't allowed to fight me; that I wasn't allowed to fight. No magic, no soldier, no training.

  "You are allowed to work out in here?"

  "Yes." Never with a sparring partner, though. My parents didn't want me to get hurt.

  Captain Ariv frowned but said nothing. He looked as sweaty as I felt. He must have just finished his morning training.

  "Did you need anything?" I asked, watching a droplet trickle down the side of his face. I wanted to lick it off. I looked away.

  "Go take a shower. You don't have much time before the company arrives," he said and turned to leave. "Good work, Your Highness."

  Compliments from Captain Ariv. I must not be too bad at this. Or was he just indulging me?

  I hurried into the shower, letting the water soothe my sore muscles and calm my mind, if only enough to stop me from doing something stupid like jacking off in these communal showers.

  Fortunately, nothing, no one, stopped me from taking refuge in my gallery to do just that. I sank down on the bench, naked, and took the shooter from its hiding place underneath. It did nothing for me. My palms didn't go sweaty when I held it, my cock stayed soft, and my breathing never changed.

  I remembered how thrilled I had been, the day I managed to get my hands on it. Someone had thrown it away, broken beyond repair. I couldn't make it work even if it wasn't broken, so that hadn't mattered. I had been convinced that even a broken shooter would soothe my dreams, my desires. But possessing one just wasn't the same. It would never be the same.

  Still, I couldn't resist trailing it over my chest, my stomach, and the insides of my legs as I pleasured myself, staring at Captain Ariv in the paintings, the sketches, old and new. I had moved them all to one side now, wanting to see only him aiming his shooter at me. He never was, of course, but I was good at pretending. Good enough that my muscles tensed under the influence of an imaginary stunning spell, and I only had to close my eyes to imagine the accompanying whiff of magic lingering in the humid air of my gallery.

  I came too fast, too soon, leaving me empty and unsatisfied.

  This would not do. Not any more.

  CAPTAIN ARIV DID not appear in the training hall the next few mornings, foiling my no doubt ill–thought plan to seduce him there, but I didn't let that ruin my newly found determination. So, I packed my painting bags and made my way to the training fields, with Neia following me closely.

  The field was doused in sunlight, drifting dry sand, and sweaty soldiers practising their swordplay and stick fighting. I managed to find a spot in the shade, away from the blowing sand. I started with a bit of sketching first. The soldiers closest to me fought with sticks—long ones, short ones, single and double. I sketched their poses, their hits, their misses, feeling the ground tremble beneath me as the practising became more aggressive. By the time I finished the last of my sketches, my throat was dry, despite sitting away from the sand–blowing wind, and my voice was scratchy as I asked Neia for some water. The soldiers, while sweaty, hardly seemed tired. Training was far from over.

  I put a canvas on my easel and looked around the field, sipping my water, searching for an appealing object to paint. Captain Ariv wasn't training, himself; he was supervising a group on the other side of the field in hand–to–hand combat. Still, I could not help staring at him and the way his skin glistened in the sunshine.

  "Ogling the men, Llyskel? Seems like you found the perfect spot for it."

  Kalnor stood behind me, long blond hair falling in his eyes as he looked down at me.

  "Kalnor. Good to see you." I smiled at him and patted the ground. "Sit. You can join me for a moment, can't you? I'm sure your siblings won't mind."

  "If it means ogling my beloved Endyrr a little longer, I'm game." Kalnor sat down beside me. "My siblings be damned."

  We both gazed across the field, to where Endyrr swung his long stick about with ease, holding off his attacker, while explaining his moves to his group.

  Kalnor sighed. "I could watch him at this all day."

  I looked from Endyrr to Kalnor and knew I had my model. It had been a while since I had painted any of my brothers. I was about to tell him when a high–pitched screaming interrupted our conversation. We both turned our heads to the row of orrin bushes across from the entrance in the garden wall. I didn't see Sirr or Inau, but Neia had already raised a shield to block any stray magic coming from my frustrated little niece, who must have escaped her mother. I smiled at Neia, mouthing my thanks, and hoped Sirr was still within the inner walls and nowhere near the training fields.

  "How long has Sirr been volatile?" Kalnor asked.

  "About a week, I think." A long week in which I hadn't even caught a glimpse of her. She usually enticed me to play marbles with her at least once a day, or joined me as I painted, creating her own art with her colouring sticks or old brushes I saved for her. "She already hurt two of the kitchen staff because they weren't shielding themselves properly."

  "So, you're allowed nowhere near her, I take it?"

  "I'm not allowed anywhere near the annex at the west wall, which is where Danen and Inau have moved for the time being. And Sirr is not allowed in the castle or past that row of orin bushes. I guess it's a fair trade–off."

  "Nothing as dangerous as a child coming into their powers. Mother said I nearly burnt the house down."

  I still remembered the look on my parents' faces when they realised I would never come into my powers. I envied Sirr, tantrums and all. And I missed playing with her.

  As I turned back to the training field. Endyrr's group had moved closer and switched to swords. Perfect. No doubt Kalnor would very much like to have a painting of Endyrr with his sword in his workshop.

  Kalnor got up and dusted off his leather work tunic and trousers. "If I want to meet Endyrr for dinner tonight, I'd best get back to work."

  I nodded and wished him well, never taking my eyes off Endyrr. I grabbed my brush and my palette and studied the way he moved, the way he raised his brow when his opponent made a mistake, the way he held his shield. I barely noticed I had started the first lines even before I decided on the pose. Endyrr moving around made it difficult to choose, but when I found a pose I liked, it didn't matter that he wouldn't stand still. Once I had that image in my head, the painting would almost paint itself. I copied the pose of Endyrr with his sword slightly raised, shield hip high, and his face in full sunlight. Maybe I could surprise Kalnor by delivering the painting to his workshop later this week. I enjoyed walking into town, even with Neia trailing after me.

  Sirr's screaming stopped at last. I turned my head to check on Neia, who slumped as she released her shield. She immediately started a relaxation exercise, because holding up a shield for that long took its toll. I sighed. Neia was just doing her job, and I often
treated her as if she was unwanted. Maybe she would like a painting of her own.

  The ground shook as something hit it with a loud thump, and I turned back to watch the soldiers. The soldier training with Endyrr had gone down. I would paint Neia another day. Today was Endyrr's turn.

  Endyrr leaned on his sword, panting, but only until the next soldier took his place before him. This one attacked at once, and then ducked behind Endyrr. How he could even sense where his opponent was, I had no idea, but Endyrr did not have any trouble fighting him off and forcing him back.

  By the time I moved on to sketching the background, Endyrr had long stopped fighting and was now merely instructing his soldiers as they practised their moves. I put my tools down for a moment and gratefully took the water Neia handed me, gulping it down as I searched the field for a moment, but Captain Ariv was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he had taken his soldiers on a run.

  "Kalnor will no doubt love the pose."

  Captain Ariv's voice washed over me, and I was glad to have drained my cup already, I would have ruined the painting otherwise.

  He looked down into my face with that wide grin plastered on. "I'm sorry, Your Highness. I didn't mean to startle you."

  I narrowed my eyes. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was doing it on purpose, but I refused to show he got to me. "Kalnor will see it every day, once I hang it in his workshop."

  "He'll never get any work done."

  I couldn't help but smile. "Or it might make him work faster, knowing the original is waiting to dine with him."

  "True, Your Highness, very true."

  No matter how gorgeous Ariv looked in my paintings, it didn't compare to seeing him standing in the shade, glistening with sweat and sand–dust after a hard day's work. I would never leave my gallery if I had him in there with me, looking as he did now.

  Ariv leaned over my shoulder, and I caught his scent of sweat, sand, and clove oil. I sat on my hands. It was all I could do not to pull him into my lap.

  "I can't wait to see what it looks like with a proper background." And with that, Ariv turned and walked away.

  I sighed, staring after him until he disappeared from view. I knew what I wanted. I just wished I knew what he wanted.

  AFTER SITTING NEXT to the dusty training fields for most of the day, I needed some exercise, and decided to take a stroll through the gardens. I would have liked to go into town to bring Kalnor his painting, but with Neia resting there was no one to accompany me.

  The vibrant colours in the southeast corner of the inner gardens always surprised me. The rest of the gardens were more balanced, but this little corner had always been a mix of the wildest colours, with a large blue–leaved roset tree in the middle of it. This was my favourite part of our gardens. So many colours I could use in my paintings, so many different shapes and sizes to play around with.

  "Again?"

  I stopped. That was Mother's voice. I looked around, but didn't see her near. Maybe she was on the other side of the inner garden wall.

  "She'll never stop asking, Héale. She admires his work."

  "And we'll refuse every single time."

  "Yes. We'll refuse. Your wish is my command, my beautiful Queen."

  "Tiaud. Don't jest. We have to. You know we do. He can't protect himself."

  Me. Mother and Father were talking about me, and someone wanting me to paint for them. I was glad they were on the other side of the wall. I needed to know more, and it would keep them from knowing I was listening in.

  "I know, love. He needs someone to watch over him."

  "I worry every time he sneaks off. He's so stubborn."

  "Stubborn and beautiful like you, Héale."

  "He's been so difficult this year. I'm afraid he'll be hurt if we don't keep a better eye on him."

  "We can't lock him up, love. Besides, he's been behaving very well this week. Neia's accompanied him every time he went off the castle grounds."

  "I know. But what about next week? Next moon?"

  "We have to let him go some time, love."

  "But not now. And certainly not to Atan to paint Solanta's castle, or her children."

  "No, not to Atan."

  "If you agree, then why do you insist on these discussions?"

  "Because my reasons not to let Llyskel go to Atan are not equal to yours. Solanta is…" Father sighed. "I worry about her, Héale. She was so young when she became queen. Too young. Rass could have been a great help to her, had she not ignored him and insisted on doing it all by herself."

  "You know why, Tiaud. We may not agree with their ways, but a royal consort in Atan is nothing like my role in our marriage. Rass has no say, aside from what Solanta grants him. Not the way I do. The way I could have, should I choose."

  "Maybe we should talk to Rass."

  "I will talk to Rass. Solanta wouldn't like her consort talking to you, a king, without her permission."

  They were talking about Queen Solanta of Atan and her consort who would be staying with us for a two–day visit to celebrate the harvest negotiations between our countries. It was an annual visit, though not always here. I had never been allowed to join the trips to Atan.

  "You talk to Rass. I'll talk to Solanta and will try to convince her to let Llyskel paint Orna during their stay here."

  "That's a good idea. Maybe if she wants him to paint Vik as well, he could come for a visit after the harvest season, or when the flowers start blooming again."

  I swallowed. They talked so easily about letting Vik come here on his own. Vik was my age, in fact he was younger than me by a moon. Yet they talked about me as if I was incapable of looking after myself. It was not fair.

  I clenched my fists and backed away from the wall. I couldn't listen to them any longer. I had to find a way to show them that I could take care of myself, that I could travel abroad on my own. Well, with one guard, a certain captain maybe, but for company, not protection.

  As I walked towards the castle, I couldn't help but imagine Captain Ariv and I, travelling together to visit foreign countries. It was a good thought.

  Chapter Three

  LYING ON MY bed, naked and aroused, watching Ariv point his shooter at me, I was not completely sure how we got to this point.

  I had seen no glimpse of him after he startled me while I was painting Endyrr the day before. Not even when we were all gathered around the fires earlier tonight, ringing in the harvest season and listening to the soldiers telling tales. Yet, the moment I entered my rooms, Captain Ariv appeared right behind me, followed me through the door, and pinned me to the wall as soon as I had put my lamp down.

  I smelled alcohol and something sweet on his breath, but his eyes were clear, intent. I shivered, but stayed still. I only had to call out for help to stop him, but I didn't feel threatened, didn't think I was in danger. Not from him.

  Though I didn't move, my hands trembled, my heart pounded as though it would burst, and I was certain my cheeks were as red as my hair. I couldn't look away from the intense expression in his eyes. He watched me for a long time, holding me against the wall, frowning, searching. He looked like he wanted to kiss me, but what was he waiting for? Permission to proceed, maybe? Did he really think I would deny him? I nodded with burning cheeks, and only barely kept myself from licking my lips.

  The moment he dipped his head and brushed his mouth against mine, I almost stopped breathing. His lips were a little dry, a little cracked, and his tongue a little wet as it darted out, demanding entrance, but warm, so warm.

  Someone moaned. It had to be me; his voice was nowhere near as high as that. I itched to touch him, to pull him closer, but his grip on my arms didn't loosen when he teased me or when he slipped his tongue into my mouth. I didn't care how tight his grip was then, as long as he went on kissing me. And when he finally relaxed his grip, I was grateful he was still holding me. Had he not, I would have sagged to the floor.

  Capt—no, Ariv. How could I still call him captain, now? Ariv was watching me again, whil
e all I wanted was to be kissed.

  "I shouldn't be here."

  I froze. He wasn't going to leave me like this, was he?

  "I shouldn't, but I can't stay away any longer. Your eyes…" Ariv trailed off. He released my left arm and stroked his thumb along my jaw. "I know what you want, and I can give it to you." With that, he pulled me away from the wall, picked up the lamp, and pushed me up the stairs.

  I immediately made for my bed when we reached the top, but he stopped me, grabbing my wrist.

  He put the lamp next to my bed. "Show me."

  There was no point in pretending I didn't understand him, no point in denying him. I nodded and took him into my gallery. I studied him as he viewed my paintings, the way his eyes went wide as he saw himself in them.

  "You have a good memory," he whispered, pointing at the one of him in the forest, stunning the boar. There was something of awe in his voice, even as soft as it sounded.

  I could only nod.

  He pulled me close and kissed me again, hard, demanding, and over before it began. "It's beautiful."

  My knees wobbled, but he kept me standing, whispering in my ear to watch the paintings, as he took off my tunic and undid the string on my trousers. He lowered me onto the bench and dropped to his knees to take my boots and trousers off.

  "Keep watching."

  The heat of his touch shot through me like fire, as he ran his fingers along the inside of my legs and played with my balls. I spread my legs and pushed my hips forward. He stilled my movements with one hand, touched his tongue to my stomach and slowly licked a path upwards. He trailed his hands up my sides as he slithered his tongue across my chest, neck, jaw, lips. And then he kissed me again, dropping his hands to my buttocks, caressing, kneading, and pulling me closer to him until I sat on the edge of the bench. The coarse fabric of his tunic scratched against my belly and my cock. I could feel his against mine through the fabric, hard. He thrust against me, robbing me of my breath more than his kiss did.