Jarvan crouched down next to him, his head tilted in curiosity.
“Shall I call for servants? And the Cjon’vaiian girls? They can bring the boxes to your dressing room, and the girls can help you unpack and hang up your clothes,” he offered, already rising to his feet.
So Kellan just nodded and opened the box. On top of the pile of clothes was an icy blue robe, embroidered with colorful birds at the bottom hemline. It was a light robe made of matte silk that he often wore on planets with summery temperatures. That was actually one of the few robes he wore without anything underneath it beside his underwear of course. Still, Kellan knew he would feel much too hot in it. The temperature here was so different from everything he had yet experienced. It felt like midsummer, and usually, he would stay in air conditioned rooms because exposing too much skin was unseemly for him. Other than that, his father wouldn’t have approved of him showing off his puny figure.
Back in the old days, they would have drowned you like some unwanted kitten…so weak and small; disgusting! he heard his father’s voice ringing in his ears.
He swallowed his sadness down and focused on the robe he held in his hands.
He traced the broad golden edges around the collar and the front. The belt was a thick braided golden rope with tassels. Looking around, he made sure no one was in the room, except for Dershra and Jarvan.
Hastily he opened the sheer morning robe he had been wearing and dumped it on the floor. With a flourish, he slipped into his blue robe. He was about to wrap the belt around his waist when Klaijvia, Galjaia and the two guards who had been at the door to the quarters came into the room.
The two guards immediately looked away, while Klaijvia rushed to his side to help him arrange the pleats by tucking and folding the fabric until it fell fluently and elegantly.
“You can turn around, boys…not like it had been necessary in the first place. We only arranged the robe. I didn’t show you full frontal nudity or anything like that,” Kellan’s voice trailed off when Jarvan started laughing and the guards’ faces turned an embarrassed red.
Ok…this was certainly weird. They were all men after all, except for Klaijvia and Galjaia so he couldn’t quite understand why they’d reacted like that. Even the two servants hadn’t flinched because there really hadn’t been anything inappropriate about the situation at all.
“You people aren’t that prude, are you?” he then wanted to know.
He hadn’t thought so because he had seen Jarvan in a rather revealing robe when they’d arrived at the palace.
Jarvan shook his head: “No, our people run around half naked all the time. It just gets weird when people get dressed. Then everybody starts acting like a virgin. It’s the same with bathing suits and underwear. But…well. A kmer has a special status. Every male and sometimes even females get super protective over us, and we’re expected to be virgin until we get married and all that shit. Really don’t know how that happened and how we got the status of lovely housewives and dolls. It’s just weird. Just ignore it and you’ll be fine or show that skin of yours and freak everybody out. That’s what I like to do. No need to hide my body when everyone has seen me naked post pregnancy, anyway.”
Seen him naked? What?!
“When did that happen?” Kellan exclaimed sorely shocked.
“Leylos’s father wasn’t so happy about our relationship for whatever reasons, so he decided to punish me for seducing the crown prince and had me whipped in public…naked,” he made a face of disgust and shrugged.
Jarvan didn’t seem all too bothered and played it down. He shrugged again when Kellan wouldn’t stop looking at him. The kmer gave him a smile, but the slight wavering of it told Kellan that something was off. Jarvan wasn’t fine with whatever had happened at all, but he also didn’t seem to want to elaborate on that. It bothered him, but he managed to look like the opposite was the case. The royal consort could hide his feelings on this well enough for others not to notice…but Kellan saw because he was good at hiding his feelings as well. Still, he didn’t press the matter. It was not his place to ask nor could he possibly help.
“Leylos’s father doesn’t seem like a nice man to me,” Kellan said finally, tucking at his sleeves awkwardly.
Giving him a soft smile, Jarvan came up to him and caressed his cheek lightly.
“No, he was an evil man; a madman; insane and dishonorable. He spat on our Phy’vohranian honor and values by killing President Alois Harrison. He has granted him safe passage and promised him peace meetings. The mad king had lost his way, turning his back on our morals and the way of our people. He had only done so one day before my punishment. There had still been your grandfather’s blood on the ground where I was standing. Leylos eventually defeated him in a duel while I was standing there. Peace wasn’t possible then. That is the main reason why our forces had held themselves back,” he explained.
Kellan closed his eyes. His petty hatred against the Phy’vohranian had been caused by the actions of a man considered mad and dishonorable by his own people. Kellan had really wronged these aliens. He needed to fix that; visit Verxas and rid himself of that horrible robe.
Clearing his throat, he said: “Let’s get those boxes into the dressing room then.”
The king’s consort also harrumphed and gestured the guards toward the towers of Kellan’s stuff.
“I noticed, the old king’s name isn’t mentioned...,” he waited for Jarvan to answer his unasked question and so he did by nodding slowly.
“Yes. Vaskin is a name we do not use anymore. I used it now, so you’ll never ever suggest naming your children like this. He broke a vow to someone who has asked for forgiveness. We do not ever break our vows, honor means everything to us,” he gave Kellan a stern look.
At a brisk pace, Sartak made his way to his parent’s quarters. Of course, his father and his uncle had drunk a few too many.
Rolling his eyes at his relatives’ behavior, he assumed to find the worst as soon as he got there.
Curtly, he nodded to the guards standing in front of the door to the king’s quarters. Squaring his shoulders, he took a deep breath.
This was going to be fun.
With a serious face, he pushed the doors open and marched right to the bedroom door. He could already hear the loud giggles and thuds. His determination wavered for a moment. Maybe he shouldn’t go and deal with some drunk-ass family members right now. He would rather be with his kmeran, but alas, these two giggling behind the door in front of him needed a nanny apparently.
With a grunt, he opened the door and quickly hit someone with it. Sartak heard a loud groan at the same time the door bounced back towards him. He caught the heavy thing with his hand and glared at whoever was lying on the floor, wailing like a dying animal.
“C’mon,” he muttered and with another roll of his eyes, he grabbed the outstretched arm and pulled that person back on their feet.
Laughter erupted from the bed and Sartak looked up only to find a mountain of fluffy pillows and blankets.
“Why do grown men behave like kids when drunk,” he asked no one in particular.
When the giggling didn’t stop, he let go of Harok’s arm- yes definitively Harok- who fell to the floor once more.
Annoyed, Sartak let him stay there. At least he couldn’t harm himself if he just lay there.
Slightly angry for ruining his time with his husband, Sartak pulled at the blankets and got a loud cry against him stealing the blankets.
“Get up! Go shower! Eat and drink water! Get sober!” he ordered; his voice stern and no-nonsense.
But of course, both of them giggled. Harok clumsily got up and swayed towards him, almost crashing into Sartak’s back, he grabbed his uncle and pushed him onto the bed. There he collided with Leylos and both of them went down in a knot of limbs and groans.
“Shouldn’t you be fucking your husband or something?” Harok slurred and Sartak took a breath to regain his patience.
“None. Of. Your. Fucking. Busines
s,” he growled and turned on his heel.
This was plain stupid and he certainly didn’t need this right now. He could be doing a lot better things than dealing with some drunk.
Still, he saw how his dad and his uncle exchanged glances. Both looked seriously shit-faced, but the stupid grin on their faces meant they were about to make some unwanted comment.
“Uhhh! Someone’s not getting fun at night,” they snickered.
That was when Sartak stormed back to the bed and grabbed one of the many pillows- Why were there so many pillows anyway?- and slapped both of them until they stopped laughing like crazy. When they were both silent, he threw the pillow across the place and stomped out the room. There was no sense in dealing with their drunken asses anyway.
He knew well enough that some of their liquors were damn strong and of course, he had noticed that both of them had drunk plenty of it last night. A wedding banquet was probably one of the rare excuses to get that stuff on the table for drinking.
Outside the doors, he glanced at the guards.
“Get Selarney! Tell him to inject them with something to make them sober. This is stupid!” he said and both of the guards nodded grimly.
When one of them made his way to find the Xilitarian doctor, Sartak made his way back to his own quarters.
What a bunch of idiots! How had his kmera been able to stay in the same room as those two…or well, he probably hadn’t because when he had crossed the sitting room, he had seen blankets and pillows on one of the ottomans.
They went through his stuff, taking the boxes with books and other stuff that were not clothes back to the first room. Kellan searched the boxes and luggage for the robe, but couldn’t find it. Of course, he had to let the other go through his things too because otherwise, it would have been strange and somewhat suspicious.
Now he was only hoping that he was the one to find that stupid thing first, but when he heard the sharp hiss from Jarvan and the choking sound the guards made, he knew that he wouldn’t be the one to find the right box first.
Turning around, he readied himself for the encounter. Jarvan was pale faced and staring down into the box.
“Tell me these are fake,” his voice sounded like he was having trouble to breathe.
“Let me guess- You found something scaly? Is it a robe or jewelry?” he asked bluntly.
Jarvan lifted his gaze at him. He opened his mouth and moved his lips, but no words came out. He shook his head, again and again, trying to understand what was in front of him.
That was when a voice asked: “How can I help?”
Oh! Good! His husband had also decided to grace them with his presence.
“How convenient. Now I don’t have to do this twice,” Kellan’s words sounded bitter, his lips were pressed into a thin line.
“What’s going on?” Sartak frowned deeply and touched his kmera’s shoulders.
Jarvan winced and then dropped his gaze to the floor.
“I’ve been searching my stuff for the black leather robe with the scaled wings attached to the shoulders over the sleeves; and for my armlets and choker,” he said while reaching into the box to pull out said robe; the jewelry was just buried underneath it.
Shaking out the stiff fabric, the scales clattered against each other.
“Are you disgusted now, do you despise me for owning such a tasteless thing?” he asked quietly; sad because he had wanted this robe so badly back then.
He heard someone come up behind him and by the smell- yes, he could somehow smell it- he knew it was his husband. When two hands gently gripped his arms, he winced. He expected hits and angry hissing, but none of it happened. Luckily, Sartak hadn’t noticed it. His husband was only touching his arms slightly as if to comfort him.
“Was that the reason why you asked about my trophies? I thought you’d be angry at me. Now I know that you only wanted to know whether you are alone with this,” to Kellan’s surprise Sartak kissed his forehead and then pulled him into his arms.
“Tell me- Were you the one to kill these soldiers?” Sartak asked silently; his tone gentle and sympathetic.
Unease washed over him and he tried to wiggle himself free from his husband’s hug. He certainly didn’t deserve it. Not a bit; not at all. That man was too gentle and indulgent to him. He should be angry; he should be furious. Sartak was supposed to yell at him, hit him because that was what Kellan deserved. Even his father would have beaten the ever living shit out of him if he had been in Sartak’s position. Why had the servants from the governmental ship put that into his luggage anyway?
“My father doesn’t know. Only the soldiers and people in Voxus know that I can actually fight. I defeated them in the arena. Most of the times, we don’t even bother to interrogate the captives. We just throw them into the arena. Give them a sword or something. It’s a way of having primitive fun…being savage for a moment and all that. There are stunning-lasers pointed at them…you know…when the human is about to get killed. I demanded they hand me out every scale of my fallen opponents. I had a robe, a choker, and the bracelets made out of them. I’m a weakling; a pushover…but give me twin swords and a mask and I’ll be the last thing you encounter. I become someone else, I’m not me anymore. It’s so much easier to be someone else…,” Kellan let loose a bitter laugh.
He was mad; probably had multiple personalities but the other person he became was so much easier to be. That person had none of Kellan’s fears and flaws. His father would love the cold-blooded murderer he was down in the pits- not the soft and gentle son he was when he didn’t wear his mask. It had started out rather harmlessly. He had fought against animals and holograms…things that weren’t real. When had he begun to butcher people? How had it gotten so far? All those Phy’vohranians who had died by his hands…their blood stained his hands; his very soul. Disgust crawled through him and he wanted to turn away.
Well, he wanted, but Sartak wouldn’t have that. Instead, his big warrior husband went down on his knees, holding his hands. The robe glided out of his grasp and fell to the floor.
“My kmeran is a warrior. I am very proud. Our people are difficult to kill. You must be highly skilled to have done so. Will you give me the honor of sparring with me?” his husband kissed both of his hands with a broad smile on his lips.
Confused by this turn of events, he looked around to see the guards regarding him with respect. Both of them bowed when he met their gaze. Even Jarvan seemed to have relaxed again. The Cjon’vaiian girls looked all the same since their faces had no emotions.
“I would like that as much as I wouldn’t like that. I was a champion in the Tournaments of Holograms. They invite me every of their cycles. We can go there sometime and I’ll show you. But please, don’t mistake my trophies as those of a victor. It was my kind of petty revenge because of what your old king had done to my grandfather. Now I know better and I feel ashamed of owning those trophies,” he gave him a sad smile and took his hand out of Sartak’s so he could grab the robe.
He patted the fabric lightly. The polished scales shimmered in the sunlight that fell into the room. The smooth scales felt hard under his fingertips, and with every movement, they clattered against each other. The sharp-edged could cut his skin if he didn’t pay attention, and indeed he had cut himself several times while donning the robe. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that Sartak had to touch his arm to draw his attention back to the present. Jarvan smiled at him. He had seemingly addressed Kellan before but repeated what he had said.
“Then stop seeing it as revenge, but as reminders of your victories,” Kellan was surprised that exactly that came from Jarvan who had been the most shocked about his finds.
In his hand, the consort held the big choker which- worn- would cover Kellan’s whole neck and parts of his chest- the front was an elongated triangular shape attached to the neckpiece, and it actually sat on the large part where his shoulders blended into his neck.
Grimacing, he took it, when Jarvan outstretched his hands towards him
. The scales molten into the gold choker felt hard and sharp. They were different sizes but still all small enough to be recognized as the hand scales; only one large facial scale sat in the middle of the neckpiece.
“Victories…macabre nevertheless,” with that he tossed it back into the box and sighed.
Sartak was still holding him; his expression helpless.
“You can keep them. You can wear them when you… How about I sign you up for the arena fights? It’s mostly wild beasts. We have those fights once every cycle because it is a tradition since ancient times. That’s the reason humans use to call us savage and uncivilized by the way,” he nodded enthusiastically, trying to make him feel better.
Kellan found it very cute and was touched that Sartak actually bothered to lift his mood. No one else had ever done that for him, except for Blake and Luke. But they had soon stopped to show this much affection and concern towards him…especially after their father had voiced his displeasure about them supporting Kellan’s unmanly behavior.
“I’d love that, but fighting and being pregnant doesn’t go well,” he mused.
His husband’s face fell. He hadn’t considered it either. The man looked like he was embarrassed to have even mentioned such a thing to his consort.
“Don’t! Don’t make that face!” Kellan pleaded; he didn’t want him to feel bad about anything.
When Sartak froze his face mid-expression, it looked so ridiculous that he couldn’t suppress his laugh. He hadn’t thought he’d have so much fun with Sartak.
The man was so serious and he barely spoke, but at the same time, he was involuntarily funny. When they had met in front of the altar and Sartak hadn’t talked to him the whole evening, Kellan had thought they wouldn’t get along at all. He had been wrong.
He liked Sartak; he liked him a lot.
His husband’s countenance turned into one of confusion, which amused Jarvan who had watched both of them and their interactions carefully.
“Well, well. Let’s get to the part where we actually work or do something close to it,” Jarvan clapped his hand, shooing them around the room and back to the boxes.
The Golden Heart: Alliance Book One (Alliance Series 1) Page 10
