by Astor, Jade
Reading his tense expression, Vidnar scowled and shook his head. “Krask them. They can mind their own affairs. You are my guest tonight.”
He pulled one of the dishes over to the edge of the table, scooped up a piece of talphoux fruit baked in warm, fragrant bread, and dipped it in sweet burninga cream. Slowly, he stroked it over Charis’ lips before easing it between his teeth. Then, with his fingers still framing Charis’ mouth, Vidnar leaned forward for a kiss. Charis allowed himself to luxuriate in the intoxicating sensation their physical connection always brought and forget his problems just for a moment.
When they broke apart, Charis knew that people were still staring at them, but he forced himself not to look up. Presently two other men approached their table and dropped onto some of the spare cushions. Charis didn’t recognize either of them, but Vidnar greeted them and began to chat, glibly turning away from Charis. From the conversation, Charis decided they were ministers or perhaps royal council members of some sort, though of minor rank. One was clearly a military commander, to judge by the wide sash and various military decorations he wore. He struck Charis as too old and doddering to be a current soldier. He assumed the man had been retired into some political position where his bodily infirmities would make no difference. The other fellow, a bit younger though by no means youthful, appeared to be his assistant or perhaps a sort of handler to keep him out of difficulties.
The old man broke off from his banter with Vidnar in mid-sentence and peered curiously at Charis. “Who are you?” he demanded. “Not another prince? There are so many these days I can’t keep track. The matriarch is a fertile sort, isn’t she?”
Charis felt his cheeks flame. “N-no,” stammered, “I-I’m not…”
To his relief, Vidnar cut him off before he could make a fool of himself. What he said next, though, filled Charis with horror. “This is my cousin, Lord Charis,” Vidnar said without hesitation. The younger man at the table looked as shocked as Charis felt. “He’s visiting us from the north. The city of Ithu.”
“Ah, the north. I led a campaign there once. A cold, dreary place as I recall,” the old man mused. Soon he wandered off into a somewhat embarrassing story about the shortcomings of the brothels there. Meanwhile, his companion looked furious at Vidnar’s blatant lie—but not at Vidnar. Instead, he directed his silent wrath at Charis. Charis wished he could sink into the pillow he was seated on and disappear. How could the people at the dinner blame him for Vidnar’s ill-chosen words? But of course, they would say nothing to Vidnar. Why would they? He was the prince.
No one but the old man spoke to Charis during the meal, though Vidnar turned to Charis several times and somewhat forcibly fed him other treats. At one point Vidnar rubbed his hand along Charis’ thigh, stopping just short of the tender spot between his legs. Charis knew Vidnar was teasing him, trying to get him excited for later. Charis was too nervous to enjoy it, though, and his appetite for the rich food had disappeared as well. Instead, he gazed across the room and watched his friends from the harem twist and turn in time to the gentle drumbeat that accompanied them. He wished he could have shed his fancy clothes and joined them. That way, he could escape both the old man’s unintelligible patter and the hostility that rose from the rest of the room like steam.
At least the jugs at the table were filled to the brim with strong-smelling pagvee brandy, which proved both sweet to the taste and deadening to the senses. Vidnar kept Charis’ cup overflowing, and Charis drank all he was given, both to please the prince and keep himself busy. The brandy loosened the old man’s tongue even further, dredging up a variety of memories from his apparently adventurous past, and for a long time no one at the table needed to speak or even respond to him.
After the last course of the painful meal had finally been consumed, the dance stopped as well and the harem dancers left the room, bowing to a smattering of applause and winking at a few shouted invitations to later pleasures. No doubt a number of tipsy courtiers would be visiting the harem later that night, Charis thought. Next, a minstrel with a delicate stringed instrument began to roam around the room, stopping briefly to serenade each table. The young man stopped at the royal table first and sang to the matriarch until her minister, Lord Ezda, shooed him away.
Half-rising from his cushion, Vidnar lifted a hand and signaled for the minstrel to come to their table. His scowl deepening, the younger of the two men sitting with them got up and took his older companion, still nattering on about his erstwhile military exploits, with him. Charis was glad they were gone, but his self-consciousness returned when the minstrel reached them and bowed to Vidnar.
“Sing something beautiful to my guest,” Vidnar ordered. “Something about love, and longing, and the sweetness of shared passion.”
“Yes, your highness.” The minstrel bowed again, more deeply this time, and then straightened up and sang the most charming song Charis had ever heard. While he listened, he forgot his discomfort and let himself get lost in Vidnar’s dreamy gaze, which was fully focused on Charis’ face. As the song went on, Vidnar’s eyes actually seemed to turn a darker gold.
At the end of the song, Vidnar leaned forward and kissed Charis full on the mouth. Charis was vaguely conscious of the minstrel muttering something else and then scuttling abruptly away. When the kiss ended and he glanced up again, he saw that Prince Baboye himself stood over them, his hands folded across his chest and his mouth set in a grim line. His own eyes, so much like Vidnar’s, were flashing.
“Mother wonders why you are seated back here, Vidnar,” he said, blatantly ignoring Charis. That, of course, suited Charis very well indeed. He had no intention of bearing the brunt of Baboye’s displeasure, along with everyone else’s. The tall, handsome crown prince wore his authority like a cloak, and it intimidated Charis along with most everyone else Baboye came in contact with…except, apparently, Vidnar.
Vidnar shrugged and looked away from his brother. “I can speak to mother anytime I please. Tonight, I wanted to be alone with Charis.”
“I can see that.” Baboye’s tone spoke more clearly than words ever could. He clearly found Vidnar’s display of affection toward a harem boy, whom he had dressed up as a girl might dress a favorite doll and carry it around, utterly distasteful. At least he, unlike everyone else present, did not direct his anger at Charis alone. “Nevertheless, you have duties as a member of the royal family, and you must observe the proper decorum. Mother says you should come to the table and present yourself. Alone.”
“I will not. I am enjoying myself right here and do not wish to get up at the moment.” Vidnar’s cheeks flushed. With an abrupt motion, he tilted his head back and downed the last of his pagvee berry brandy. He motioned for Charis to do the same, though Charis drank more slowly. He was not used to the drink’s effects, and his motions were not as coordinated as would have liked. Throughout the embarrassing interlude, Baboye continued to glare at them. “In fact, I think it’s time we left,” Vidnar continued when he had finished his brandy. “I’m not feeling well all of a sudden. I think the brandy was too strong. Good night, my brother. Give the matriarch my most cordial regards.”
Staggering a little, he heaved himself to his feet and reached over to pull Charis up by the hand. Together they made their way through the banquet room while people at every table they passed stared at them. A few even whispered comments to one another. Most of all, Charis could feel Baboye’s angry gaze on his back, burning a hole through his sparkling new clothes. He had not escaped the crown prince’s fury after all.
Back at Vidnar’s favorite chamber in the harem, the two stripped down and got onto the large bed, now adorned with fragrant fresh sheets. Charis had thought at the beginning of the evening that he would hate to remove his ornate new outfit, but after his ordeal at the banquet he found himself happy to be rid of it for a while. Besides, feeling his bare skin slide against Vidnar’s more than made up for the loss of the sleek, rich fabric’s caress.
“You seem unhappy,” Vidnar noticed,
scrutinizing Charis’ expression. Charis was surprised and flattered that the prince took any notice of his moods. That was entirely backward—he was supposed to make sure the prince was happy and entertained at all times, not the other way around.
“I’m sorry, your highness. It’s just that…well…I am worried that your family, as well as the rest of the royal court, hates me.”
Vidnar could not deny it, but he made a growling sound to indicate his disapproval. “They are caught up in illusions of their own importance,” he snapped, “my brother most of all. I am not like that. I believe in equality between men—between lovers, especially.”
Charis gasped. “Equality, prince?” he repeated. The very idea stunned him.
“Yes. I am a prince, true, but I attained my rank through an accident of birth and not any particular accomplishment on my part. Why should I have more rights than anyone else? Why is it my right to wear finer clothing than men who possess qualities and talents far greater than my own?” He gestured toward their bare bodies and ground his torso closer against Charis’. “We look much the same now, do we not? Is this not what all men look like in their most basic state? The rest is merely trapping—false adornments to convince people we are what we truly are not.”
Charis couldn’t help laughing as Vidnar began to tickle him. His giggles intensified and turned to gasps of need when Vidnar reached lower and lightly stroked his cock.
“If-if you say so, your highness,” he managed to say when he caught his breath for a moment.
Vidnar kissed the bridge of Charis’ nose as the tugs on his cock grew more insistent. “I assure you that you do not need to worry. My family will come to accept you. I will make them understand that we are meant to be as one. Our lives will be entwined forever. The sooner they realize that, the better for them.”
“Yes…yes, your highness.”
“You are my lover, Charis, not my servant. I don’t want you to forget that. I will always protect you and do whatever it takes to keep you near me.”
The prince’s arms went around Charis’ middle, crushing them together as they slid down into the warmth of the covers. Charis could hardly believe his good fortune at not only loving, but being loved, so purely and completely. Truly Vidnar was something special, a man among men. Charis was sure he was dreaming as Vidnar covered his willing body with eager kisses.
Chapter 3
The next few days passed in a happy haze of togetherness, sweet kisses, and whispered endearments. As much as Charis enjoyed the feel of the prince’s hands on his body, he liked the quiet moments, when the two of them simply talked about disappointments of the past and dreams for the future, even more.
One issue Vidnar liked to speak of often involved his troubled relationship with the rest of the royal family. Charis could not help but notice how often the prince showed up at the harem and boasted how he had skipped out on some diplomatic function, military inspection, or ceremonial promenade the matriarch had planned.
“No one will miss me,” he was fond of saying. “Certainly not as much as I would have missed you if I had stayed away for the whole afternoon.”
One day, while Charis lay in the big bed with Vidnar, a servant knocked and came into the room, pale and nervous.
“Krask! How dare you interrupt us?” Vidnar had barked, sitting up abruptly, his gold eyes flashing with anger.
“Beg pardon, your highness,” the boy said in a strained voice. “An urgent message from the palace.”
Vidnar cursed and got up, grabbing his robe form the floor, where he had carelessly discarded it. “I’ll be back,” he told Charis. “You may wait here. It’s probably nothing important.”
He was laughing as he walked down the hall after the servant. When the prince didn’t return right away, as promised, Charis also scooped his robe off the floor and crept out of the room to see if he could spy on the proceedings. Though he didn’t dare to go too far down the hall, and he didn’t see anyone, he heard raised voices coming from a nearby chamber. One of them was Vidnar’s—no doubt about that—and the other seemed to belong to his brother, the fearsome Prince Baboye. Charis could not make out exactly what they were saying, but the gist of their argument seemed clear enough. His suspicions were confirmed when Vidnar eventually did return to the bedchamber, just a few moments after Charis had hurried back and slipped under the covers.
The prince wore his usual smirk. “Once again, my mother says I’m neglecting my royal duties. She sent my brother to scold me for my laziness. Fools! Don’t they know my most important duty is to make you happy?”
Charis couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I am concerned that I am causing you trouble with your family, your highness,” Charis said, his stomach fluttering with fear. It was not the first time he had expressed such worries. As much as he hated the thought of getting Vidnar into trouble with the matriarch and her inner circle, he feared for his own place in the royal household even more. After all, Vidnar could scarcely be cast out of the palace, but Charis could certainly be sent out into the city streets, disgraced, to fend for himself.
“You mustn’t waste time thinking about such matters,” Vidnar assured him, sliding back into bed and pulling Charis close to him. “I am perfectly capable of dealing with my mother and brother.”
Charis allowed himself to drift along on the pleasant feelings generated by Vidnar’s warm body and reassuring words. What more could he do? The prince had ordered Charis not to worry, so he didn’t.
*~*~*
The next morning, after the prince left with a vow to confront his mother once and for all, Charis bathed alone, dressed, and returned to his lessons. In truth, he had been neglecting his own duties lately, too. All of the harem members were expected to attend to their own education and personal improvement when they were not busy servicing their royal patrons. Today he slipped into a lesson on the poetry of antiquity, which he had to struggle to pay attention to. Thoughts of Vidnar’s kisses and more intimate caresses kept intruding on his thoughts while the poetry master lectured to the group.
When the lessons were finished, the scholars retreated to one of the back gardens to enjoy a leisurely meal in the sunshine. One of the newer initiates, Defri, approached Charis and asked if they could eat together. Charis agreed and the two settled down under a shady tree with a large platter of honey-soaked bread and steenago fruit to share.
Defri, who was obviously still finding his way around this new way of life, was quick to ask Charis questions. “How did you come to this place?” he asked.
“Like many of the others here, I started out very poor,” Charis told him, though of course compared to some of the initiates he had heard about and met, his farming family had been rather well off. “My parents no longer wished to support me, so I had to leave home and make my own way. I, along with many others from the southern quadrant, gathered in the marketplace of Pyriel. All of us were hoping for a chance to better ourselves. Luckily, I was chosen to come to the city and train for the harem.”
Defri lifted one hand and looked sadly down at the cuff on his wrist. Charis knew what he was thinking—he was eager to complete his probationary period and become a more permanent part of the harem. Charis himself had been in the same position once before his wrist was tattooed with Thasali royal family colors, indicating that he was now a full harem member.
“You were very lucky to attract the prince’s fancy,” Defri said with a sigh.
“Indeed I was. It was a great honor.”
“Do…do you think I will ever be that lucky?”
Charis gave Defri an encouraging smile. “You never know. Prince Vidnar has many brothers, and a good number of cousins besides. Then there are legions of ministers and diplomats wandering around the court. One of them may very well fall in love with you.”
Defri brightened and polished off another piece of bread. “That would be wonderful. It must be delightful to be the favorite of a royal—almost like a dream. Do you love the prince?”
> “More than anything. And it’s even better than a dream, I promise you.”
Defri seemed about to say more when both of them noticed a tall, grim-faced bald man hovering on the other side of the tree’s broad trunk. Charis saw Defri’s eyes widen, and he seemed to choke a little on his bread. He had good reason to feel nervous. Oraj, the harem master, could strike fear into any of his charges with no more than a stern glance. Though Charis had never known him to be cruel, he did not tolerate misbehavior or disrespect among the harem boys. He, no less than the royals, had the power to eject any of them without warning.
This time, his unflinching gaze fixed on Charis alone. Charis felt his chest tighten with anxiety.
“Leave us,” Oraj said to Defri without so much as glancing at him. Obviously relieved, Defri leapt up and fled. Charis forced himself not to show his own trepidation as he looked up into Oraj’s narrow dark eyes.
“Defri was asking you about the prince,” Oraj observed, folding his arms over his well-muscled chest. Charis swallowed. In general, any interactions or conversations between harem members and royals were supposed to be kept private. Certainly they were not intended to be fodder for gossip among the boys, though of course such chatter went on all the time when the masters were not listening. Charis wondered if he was about to be reprimanded for speaking too freely to an initiate.
“Yes,” he admitted. Oraj had clearly heard them talking, so there was no point in denying it.
“You and the prince have grown very close,” Oraj observed next, again startling Charis. “Come—answer me plainly. I have no time for pretense or evasion.”
“Well…yes. Prince Vidnar and I love each other.”
“So you say. If I were to ask his highness the same question, would I get the same answer.”
Charis swallowed and nodded. What was Oraj getting at? And why did the question make him fidget? “I-I believe so.”
