At some point, he had even gone to the kitchen and well…eaten a lot of things he thought smelled nice. But whatever he had stuffed in his mouth, he really wished he could have some pistachio ice-cream. He’d murder for a spoon full of that good stuff.
He knew it was cravings, but so soon?
Touching his stomach, he already felt a hard bump, and that was not from eating because he knew he had felt it yesterday already.
Did Phy’vohranian babies develop so fast? Was that the reason, people could constantly catch him eating?
Even now he had a plate balancing on his hand with the documents clamped under his arm while he tried to get food with his free hand. He must have been a pitiful sight, because Kohtah, who came towards him, looked at him with big eyes.
“That’s a sheer robe,” he commented while taking the documents so Kellan could eat.
“I feel like I should be sexy as fuck lately. I’m getting fat,” so that was the most stupid and incoherent thing he had said and he had to frown at himself.
The tailor had asked him for his wishes a few days ago and he had commissioned a lot of new clothes- some of them chaste and conservative and others highly provocative. He had felt like it.
Even Jarvan had said he liked Kellan’s ideas and that no one would dare to defy his wishes because he was the one who would make the final decision of what he was going to wear or not. Jarvan’s robes weren’t conservative at all too, so it wouldn’t pose a problem if Kellan decided to run around half naked all the same.
Indeed he wore a robe made of blue gauze. It had the average long bottom piece and a broad black belt around his waist. The top was a neck holder piece- only two broad straps of layered fabric that covered the lower half of his back and his chest, while his cleavage was bare. His legs showed underneath the sheer gauze and he only wore some high-laced sandals. So he was mostly naked, but he strangely didn’t care a bit.
The two guards behind him had almost choked on their breath when he had come out of his dressing room to meet them. They hadn’t said anything, only blushed and cleared their throats.
“Don’t give me that skeptical look. I wear matching gauntlets. They’re long!” he snarled at Kohtah.
“Yes, I see. It’s just…you’re giving your guards a much too good time at the moment. By the way, you aren’t fat. All the stuff you eat…well, it seems like your body is using it to help the baby grow. It’s six months only because flesh and organs develop quite fast. The bones harden later during the first year after birth. Also, scales and claws and the lizard-skin form over the course of the first three to five years. I mean…Cyra doesn’t have scales and long claws yet, but she has the lizard-skin ability. The baby’s eyes will fully develop within the first three weeks after birth, so don’t worry when it keeps the eyes shut most of the time,” suddenly his still brother-in-law hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek.
“Does that mean we can all behave strangely and get away with it now?” Kellan mused, making Kohtah laugh.
“Actually, it is expected of us. Now, where were you heading?” he still held his documents.
“To your father,” he answered quickly because Kohtah was already going in the direction Kellan had been going only a few minutes ago.
So he hurried to keep pace with the younger man who, today, wore an antique pink robe with brass colored seams and embroidery.
When they arrived at the king’s office, the door stood open wide.
Kohtah poked in his head and knocked at the open door. Leylos lifted his head and a warm smile appeared on his face when he noticed his son. But when he saw Kellan, his eyes grew wide and his cheeks flushed pink.
“Please enter,” he said huskily, then cleared his voice.
Kellan followed Kohtah inside, noticing that his guards- he believed their names were Jorax and Kalik- stayed with the other two guards of the king. One of them, Kellan thought it was the more serious looking of them, had to be Kohtah’s secret crush. He was sure, especially since Kohtah glanced quickly over his shoulder as he followed him into the office where they headed for the chairs.
When they were seated, King Leylos once again cleared his voice, but before he could say anything, Kellan interrupted.
“I need pistachios!” he exclaimed loud enough to startle everyone nearby.
Leylos frowned.
“What is pistachio? Kellan? Are you alright?” he had risen from his armchair and was now coming around the table, his expression worried.
“No! I’m not alright! I want pistachio ice-cream. Now! Very badly,” he begged, kicking his feet like an ill-tempered child.
Kohtah muttered something under his breath and hid his face behind his hands while he shook his head.
King Leylos, on the contrary, looked helpless. He had his hands in the air, not quite sure whether he could touch Kellan or not. But in the end, he decided to just lay them on his shoulders.
“I promise, I’ll tell someone to get you some. Aren’t you cold?” he started to rub Kellan’s arms gently as if to warm him up.
When his fingers accidentally touched the side of his chest, Leylos winced and promptly drew back his arms. His expression looked so shocked, it made Kohtah splutter.
“Are you flirting, father?” he asked mockingly, causing the king to even blush a deeper red.
“No. He’s just…” his voice trailed off when suddenly Jarvan appeared in the doorframe, arms folded in front of his chest.
“Leylos, you’re drooling on the floor. Stop touching your Son-in-Law, that’s unseemly,” Jarvan teased his husband.
The king’s consort came towards them and then sat down on his husband’s desk.
Regarding Kellan with an amused smile, he said: “You look like you’re going to battle. Plan on slaying some men?”
Kellan and Kohtah giggled while the king started to cough.
“I have the contract ready,” Kellan informed them when things calmed down a bit.
Leylos thanked him and accepted the documents. He read them out loud, and when he was finished, his smile was broad enough to be scary.
“Excellent! I should replace my old ambassador and clerk and put you in his position,” he announced jokingly.
Suddenly an old man appeared in the doorframe just behind the king’s office chair on the left side. He seemed overly happy.
“Does that mean I can finally retire now without fearing this planet’s going to face political collapse?” he asked hopefully.
“So…tell me again. How did that happen? You’re Daron’s understudy now and you’ll take over his office when your baby is delivered? Is that right?” Kohtah asked again.
Both Kellan and Kohtah still had no idea of what had happened back in the king’s office.
Everything had been decided so fast and Kellan had just nodded because he was so confused. Now he was Daron’s understudy.
The old Royal Advisor and Ambassador was a gentle and kind man. He would teach Kellan everything about the planet’s politics and noble houses; everything about their alliances and trade treaties.
That was a lot to take in, but Daron would stay as Kellan’s secretary because he felt too old to be still the Representative of Phy’vohran. Putting Kellan in his position would also strengthen their connection to Earth and the peace between the two planets.
Kellan was overwhelmed. He was still so young. Was it clever to give him such a powerful and high position?
Well, on the other hand, Sartak had been named Warlord when he was only twenty, and Phy’vohran had never seen a better Warlord than him.
On Earth, age meant experience, but Phy’vohranians seemed to think differently about it. It was skill and achievements that put them into positions. Kellan’s achievements were impressive, and he was sure quite skilled in diplomatic affairs, but he had never dreamt of getting such a highly respected task.
“You’ll be commanding an army of ambassadors and clerks. You’ll be the right hand of the king in every political matter and you’ll sit n
ext to him when he sits in judgment. This could mean your title will be changed into Regent when my brother gets crowned. Do you understand the meaning of all this?” Kohtah stopped to block his way by putting his hand on Kellan’s shoulders.
Of course, Kellan knew what that meant. He just couldn’t get his mind on it. He couldn’t believe it, and he was honestly not sure whether he was the right person for this job.
Regent?
He had never ruled over anything. Oh well, when he believed what the priest had said when he got married to Sartak, he was the sovereign and owner of EVE-4. The colony was a planet that had been in his mother’s possession. Samuel hadn’t even cared to tell him it was his inheritance from his mom.
What he had known is that he was the Prince of New Britain and the Northern Isles as well as the Head of the New Commonwealth. Lord of Earth was a title all Harrisons were born with, but only the current president’s children would get a piece of land. This tradition was a remnant of the Lion’s War- the war between the noble houses of New Earth at the beginning. All had sought to get the crown of New Earth, but only one family had won. Ever since they had held that crown and the lands that came with it. Ever since Earth was for the Harrisons to divide between each other.
Blake for example owned Europe and Russia and Luke owned Africa. Their father owned all the rest of the world.
Of course, Kellan had wielded no real power whatsoever. His titles, though, he still had in his name, but Samuel had ruled over everything. First, it had been because he wasn’t of age, but then the president had come up with the excuse that Kellan had no experience in ruling so Samuel would do that for him. Blake and Luke had at least been able to make smaller decisions concerning their land.
And now? The king had just casually offered him one of the most anticipated positions ever. Just like that…because Kellan was an average ambassador- that’s what his father had told him many times. He was disposable, nothing special. So why the king had so much faith in him, he couldn’t tell.
“My kmera didn’t want to be Regent. He was to gentle-hearted and couldn’t stay in the throne room when father sat in judgment. Can you do that? Sit there and watch when someone gets beheaded or whipped, or whatever father finds suitable?” Kohtah asked, his voice quiet and shaky.
Yes. He could.
Hell, he could. There was no point in denying that he was cold and merciless enough to encourage the king to sentence someone to death and then watch it. He would blandly carry out the sentence himself if the king wished so.
“Kohtah…I have faced plenty of your soldiers in pit-fights. And I have killed them. In my dressing room are a coat and choker made of Phy’vohranian scales,” he said, his voice sounding grave.
Kohtah’s face went blank and he dropped his hands.
“What? But you’re so nice and sweet…I don’t understand,” the young prince seemed seriously confused; he shook his head wildly in disbelief.
“Listen, everybody has a dark side. I’m sweet and kind and pretty and gentle most of the time, but when necessary, I can be a really heartless bastard. My mother killed herself and let me find her body; my ex-boyfriend was a psychopath and madmen; my father cared shit about me, and all the soldiers disrespected me because I was my father’s shame. I did what I had to do to find my place in this world. I fought hard for it. I earned our soldier’s respect. I am no longer Samuel’s shame, but still his least favorite child. My mother was only kindness and love. She had lacked hardness and ruthlessness. In the end, it had killed her…driven her to hang herself. I wouldn’t have survived, if I had stayed the golden heart, I was born. This golden heart is marbled with pitch black veins now. You armor your body with hardened skin and scales; I armor myself with cold and mercilessness. It was all I had and I survived. I will survive and I will fight until my last breath to save at least some pieces of that golden heart, but I am still who I am…who I became in order to survive; to live,” with that he left Kohtah standing in the hallway.
He needed to go. He needed to see the children and think about the nicer things in life. He needed to remind himself why he wanted to stay a golden heart.
His mother’s letter was in his nightstand. Still, he reached into the little pouch on the belt. It was empty.
“Have the armorer forge me twin-swords,” he demanded, knowing his guards Jorax and Kalik were right behind him and had overheard his conversation with Kohtah.
He played with the shining dagger in his hands, turning it around in the dim light of the sun. The sunshine only made it weakly through the curtains.
Kellan hadn’t eaten today. He felt sick but not because of the pregnancy. His heart raced, but he didn’t know why.
Sartak hadn’t contacted him for three more days and he was worrying himself crazy. He didn’t know how to spend his time, and he didn’t know how to not always think about his husband. Where was he? Was he okay? Kellan wanted to know. He wanted to know it badly, but Sartak didn’t answer.
Sighing, he rose from his lying position and carefully put the dagger back into the small casket. The golden weapon was loaded with rubies and the hilt’s end was the shape of a wyvern head. The blade was curved and had writings in Phy’vohranian letters.
Fortunately, Kellan knew the Phy’vohranian alphabet and he knew at least some words. He could only not speak them. His tongue wouldn’t make the right flicks and some sound he simply couldn’t produce.
But he didn’t need to speak the words to know what they meant.
My mate, thine is my heart which only knows honor. So I will fight and die bravely for thee.
This dagger had been brought to him this morning.
Kalik had said it was a gift from Sartak.
His husband had the writings done belatedly after their day together. The dagger itself was a gift.
Kellan wanted to cry. He wanted to scream and shout. He would have loved to trash something, but he didn’t feel like moving a lot. His heart felt sick and it missed Sartak even more than a few days ago.
Dull pain spread inside him, took over every inch of his being. His body was shaking, even as he curled himself up into a ball.
My mate, thine is my heart which only knows honor. So I will fight and die bravely for thee.
Sartak loved him. He had only needed one day to find out. And Kellan?
He had never really loved; didn’t know what it meant to have a real lover. Everything was new and scary. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. Well, he had held hands and kissed but all that had been much different from what he had with Sartak.
He wanted Sartak so badly, but he knew he couldn’t bear being touched by him. He dreamt of it; thought about it all the time. But he knew he’d freak out if he did it for real.
There had been someone who had tried to be his lover, but Kellan had wanted none of it. The nasty words still rang in his ears; his skin burned uncomfortably in all the places that this someone had touched him. Rough fingers on his hips; a hand in his neck, bending his head and chapped lips scratching over his mouth…
No, he couldn’t do this again. He wanted, though. It was different now. He hadn’t wanted it back then, but now…
Still…
What if he started to scream?
What if Sartak wanted more than he could give him?
What if it hurt the same as the first night?
Would there always be blood?
It shouldn’t make him bleed, right?
It shouldn’t be painful.
Maybe small humans shouldn’t sleep with big Phy’vohranians?
Maybe it just didn’t work out for their species?
Would Sartak grow tired of him?
Would he look for someone else?
Kellan first had wanted to allow Sartak to have other lovers, but now…
No! He didn’t want that at all.
He wouldn’t just sit there and watch his husband sleep with others.
But could he really expect Sartak to be faithful to him when he wasn’t abl
e to give him what he needed?
No…he couldn’t do that. Still…
He couldn’t bear it. His heart would scream and die slowly, piece by piece.
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt.
Maybe it would be endurable for him.
Then he could give his husband what he needed.
Give him intimacy and satisfy his needs.
Kellan didn’t have to like it. But he could do it if it was endurable.
Sartak could touch him because that he liked and it felt nice. In return, Kellan would sleep with him because Sartak liked sex.
So both of them would get the things they liked, right? Kellan would get the gentle touching and stroking, and Sartak would get the sex.
That meant Kellan could make him happy. He wanted Sartak to be happy.
Their marriage would work. Kellan wanted it to work because he knew he wanted to stay on Phy’vohran. He loved it here and he liked the people. Everyone liked him and they believed in him. Leylos trusted his opinion and Daron had faith in him.
But the main reason he wanted to stay was…he knew he had fallen in love with Sartak, even though it was strange and some part of him couldn’t believe it.
Kellan dragged himself out of bed and looked into the garden.
Huh? Why was it dark outside? He could have sworn the sun had still been up when he had last looked. Had he really forgotten time? How long had he been lying there; thinking?
“Mother Cosmos…you’re my husband’s goddess, right? Bring him back to me, please. I need him here. I miss him terribly. Tell me, he’s okay,” he whispered into the darkness of the night, but of course, no one answered him.
Gods never did. They never answered, but sometimes things happened. So he would wait.
11
He ran.
His heart hammered mercilessly against his ribcage and his lungs stood in flames. His face hurt like it was on fire and he tasted blood in his mouth.
Sartak couldn’t see much. One hand he pressed against his damaged eye. Blood covered his skin and the slashes burned. He felt a rumble in his chest.
The Golden Heart: Alliance Book One (Alliance Series 1) Page 16
