3
Perhaps. Are you going to kill me now?
Instead, Kurosh had simply left, and though Bakhtiar had wanted to keep the strange encounter to himself he'd told his family about it because it was important to know about such a frightening breech in palace security.
A month later, Kurosh had reappeared, beaten and broken and close to bleeding out. He'd never left the palace again.
"So tell me of Kashi," Bakhtiar said around a yawn.
"Later, my son. He's a backstabbing cretin, and he's been arrested. That is all that matters for now. Rest, heal. We'll tell you everything when next you wake."
Bakhtiar didn't have it in him to argue, succumbing easily to the dream powder.
The next time he woke, it was to singing—his mother and her concubines were singing prayers, spread out around the edges of his bed, lamps spaced between them.
"Mother, you're making me feel like I'm attending my own funeral."
Her head snapped up, the singing falling away, and she smiled faintly.
"Bakhti, you must be feeling better if you have smart-mouthed comments ready immediately upon waking. How are you feeling, my love?"
She hadn't called him that in years. Bakhtiar willed back the stinging in his eyes. He was an adult, closer to thirty than twenty, he didn't need his mother calling him silly endearments.
"I'm fine. Well, no, I guess not, but you know what I mean. Not hurting as much as before."
"You've been asleep for quite some time, nearly a whole day, and two days before that. We were quite afraid." Her lip trembled briefly before she regained her legendary control.
"Would you like some tea?"
"Please. Kurosh? Farrokh?"
"Kurosh is with Kashi, who probably wishes he was dead by now, but he won't be that lucky for some time yet."
"Farrokh?"
Fahima's mouth quirked in amusement before she nodded to something past him.
He turned his head, and immediately felt silly, because Farrokh was fast asleep behind him, long hair spread out in a hopelessly tangled mess that would annoy him greatly when he woke. He reached out to comb gently through some of the mess, the comfort of the touch vastly outweighing the pain of the movement.
Turning back to his mother, he asked, "How long have you all been singing funeral hymns? Getting a bit ahead of ourselves? Or just rehearsing?"
"Bakhtiar, I will finish the job myself if you do not stop," Fahima hissed.
"You know good and well we were singing healing hymns."
He grinned, feeling almost shy for no good reason at all, except he couldn't remember the last time he'd been able to jest with his mother either.
"I guess they worked."
Two of her concubines giggled, and a third said, "Perhaps too well, but jokes aside, Your Highness, we are so very happy to see you awake and notably improved."
"Thank you. Will someone tell me the full tale, now? Father said Kashi was the reason I was ambushed, but he wouldn't say more than that. Where is Father?"
"He resumed his duties, as you were clearly improving and on the mend, though he wanted to sit with you longer," Fahima said, reaching out to hold his hand in both of hers, the same as Shahjahan had done before.
"He will come by later this evening." She squeezed his hand, then let go and drew back enough a servant could give him a cup of warm tea. Chamomile with honey, by the smell.
"I was just curious. What of Reza? Is he all right?"
"Your guard has been suspended for failing to do his job."
"He didn't fail!" Bakhtiar said, sitting upright, ignoring the agonizing pain that brought save to swear softly and clutch at his stomach.
"Kashi was trusted by all of us, he goes into my office with some poor servant ordered to shadow him all the time. Absolutely nothing was untoward. Every single one of you trusted him too, so why is Reza the only one being punished?"
Fahima inhaled sharply, her eyes burning as she met his gaze.
"If you think for one second that we are not all punishing ourselves over the long list of very stupid mistakes we have made that led to you nearly dying, Bakhti, you do not understand just how dire the situation was." She held up a hand when he tried to reply.
"Your point stands, I concede it. Reza will be reinstated with apologies and lost pay."
"I want him here," Bakhtiar said.
"I don't remember much, but I remember he fought so hard to get to me. The man who attacked me blocked the door somehow."
"He knocked the bookcase over, jamming it shut," Aaliyah said from the foot of his bed.
"You are right, Sergeant Reza fought hard; his arms were bleeding heavily, and he broke two fingers. He's asked about you practically every hour."
Fahima motioned, and two of her concubines rose and slipped from the room.
"As to Kashi, apparently he's been sabotaging you for a very long time. Kurosh first brough the matter to our attention the night of the banquet, after you left, though he said he had no evidence at the time. We still do not know why as he is being very tight-lipped, but we'll break him eventually. Who paid him to help arrange the attack on you we are also still trying to figure out."
"Sabotaging me?" But even as he asked, he could see it. His missing papers, the lost earrings, so much more, all trusted to Kashi. He'd just assumed there were mix-ups or something; it had never occurred to him that Kashi was doing it all on purpose, and didn't he feel like a damned fool now.
"Yes, you follow, I see it," Fahima said, sounding near tears again, and the idea of his mother crying was unbearably heartbreaking.
"I am sorry, Bakhti. We wrongfully accused you of so many things, without ever once stopping to think. It was shameful behavior, and it was made painfully obvious that we have been hurting you deeply for a long time. I have failed you as a mother and I am sorry."
"You thought I was being careless and forgetful and acted accordingly," he said, though not without bitterness.
"Painfully obvious how?" All he'd done was abandon dinner. His sister had done that twice and nobody thought she was hurt deeply, just occasionally a spoiled brat.
A sleepy voice from beside him said, "You don't recall what you said when Kurosh and Reza got to you?"
"I don't remember much of anything, honestly. Reza trying to get to me. Kurosh killing the man, both of them screaming my name. I didn't know I'd said anything."
Fahima sighed.
"I will not ask forgiveness, my love, but know that I do love, have always loved you, and always will. Get some more rest, all right? I will come to see you this evening."
"No more funeral hymns."
"They were for healing!" she hissed before huffing and walking off.
The door had barely closed when it opened again, and one of the guards stepped inside escorting Reza.
"Your Highness!" Reza said, rushing across the room entirely oblivious to the guard trying to keep him at an appropriate distance.
Bakhtiar waved the guard off.
"I'm so happy to see you awake, Your Highness," Reza said, stopping several paces away from his bed and dropping to his knees to bow low. His eyes looked bruised from lack of sleep, his skin was far too pale, and his arms heavily bandaged all the way to the shoulders, two of his fingers splinted.
"I was so scared when I finally got to you. I cannot apologize enough for my failure to protect you when that was my sole duty."
"You were betrayed the same as the rest of us."
Reza glared angrily at the floor.
"I should have been smart enough to realize those stupid drunks were a distraction."
"Stupid drunks are a matter of course in the palace," Farrokh replied dryly.
"Please, Sergeant, you served honorably, hurting yourself like that to get to him."
"Thank you for giving me a second chance, Your Highness. I was expecting to be rightfully terminated any moment."
"No, never," Bakhtiar said fiercely.
"Remain here, by your pleasure. I trust my guards outside, but I trust you more, and without Kurosh I will be safer for having you here. Stand, please."
"Your Highness," Reza replied, rising to his feet and spreading his arms.
"I'm not terribly useful right now, but I'll do my best should a threat arise."
Farrokh seemed faintly amused as he kissed Bakhtiar softly before pulling away and drifting over to his vanity to fetch a brush and set to work on his hair.
"Every guard in the palace is spoiling for a fight, and every servant is searching for the traitors in their midst like hens seeking the snake in their roost. Only a suicidal fool would dare to attempt something right now—and that is not including Kurosh, who has already killed five people now, and his blade is still thirsty."
"Very thirsty," Kurosh said as he slipped out from behind a tapestry. He nodded to Reza, who gave a slight bow back.
"It will drink more blood tonight."
"You're not meant to be a killer anymore," Bakhtiar said quietly.
"I swore you would no longer have to do that."
"I knew what I was getting into, loving the crown prince." Kurosh padded across that room in that effortlessly soundless way of his, crawled into the space just vacated by Farrokh, and kissed him.
"How are you feeling?"
"Not as bad as before, but not great. I think I'll probably fall asleep again soon."
Kurosh pressed their foreheads together, his warm, sandalwood and honey scent familiar and comforting.
"You scared me, you stupid brat. Especially when you acted like we'd all be happier with you dead."
Is that the thing he'd said that his mother and Farrokh had mentioned before? "I don't remember much of anything."
"Probably for the best." Kurosh kissed him again.
"Get some rest."
Bakhtiar sighed, because he was already sick of sleeping all the time and sensed there was still a great deal more of it in his future, but settled down without protest because his eyes were already growing heavy again.
***
The next time he woke, he was feeling strong enough to get up, though only barely. Enough to tend to certain matters himself, get clean, and into fresh clothes. When that was finally done, he insisted on sitting at his table for a bit, beyond fed up with being stuck in bed.
He stared around his room at the piles upon piles of flowers, prayer tokens, and other typical get well gifts.
"Where is Reza? Where in the world did all this come from?"
Farrokh huffed in amusement.
"Reza went to get some sleep, he is impressively, adorably stubborn about leaving your side, even when Kurosh is here. As to the gifts, you must be joking, Bakhti. The palace staff of course, and many soldiers. When I say everyone has been worried about you, I do mean everyone. Your poor personal staff is harassed with questions a hundred times a day, and the 'drunks' hired to distract the guards were soused out by the staff and handed over to the guards a little worse for wear."
Bakhtiar didn't know what to say to any of that, so he focused on the teapot in front of him—and immediately got his hand knocked away by Kurosh as he sat to join him, laying one of his long, slim daggers on the table and picking up the teapot instead.
"You are a long way from healed, my prince. You are fortunate there was no internal bleeding." He poured the tea and then offered up the cup.
Dutifully drinking until the cup was empty, Bakhtiar then said, "Have you run out of people to kill yet?"
"No, and I'll have more heads soon. Nearly finished, though. After I'm done nobody will dare to so much as clip your shoulder in the hallway."
"I don't think they did that anyway," Bakhtiar replied.
"You know, I still don't know why Kashi did this, why he resented me so much."
"Because much like the rest of the palace, my prince, he is smitten with you. Or was. When you did not notice him as he wanted you to, he grew resentful," Kurosh said.
"Though I think he also had some half-baked plan that you would ask him where the missing items were and he would give some stupid explanation and then go miraculously 'find' the item and you'd be ever so grateful."
Bakhtiar stared, went through the words again in his mind, and then a third time.
"I'm sorry, I must have misheard you. Did you say Kashi was smitten with me?"
"Yes, my prince, that is what we said," Farrokh said, giving him a look of fond, tolerant amusement.
"You cannot possibly find that shocking."
"Yes, I find it shocking!"
"Bakhti, why. You know the name of every single staff person in the palace, something even your parents can't say. Not only that, you care about their lives, you help them."
Bakhtiar scoffed.
"Being polite is nothing special."
Kurosh sighed.
"I told you he wouldn't believe us. Even though it's true that half this palace would love it if you made their dreams of romance and filthy seduction come true. Including a certain overprotective guard, hmm? He's pretty, loyal, smart. I think he'd fit right in."
"What are you talking—" Bakhtiar stopped, face going hot.
"You cannot possibly mean Reza."
"Bakhti, you've been flirting with him since practically the day he took over the post, and he absolutely flirts back. He has nearly called you 'my prince' at least ten times that I have counted, and I'm not always there."
"He's my guard," Bakhtiar protested weakly, but really he just felt foolish for never realizing that he had been flirting this whole time.
Kurosh smirked.
"He's ready to be whatever you need, including—"
"If you finish that sentence I will dump what's left of this tea on you," Bakhtiar hissed.
"It's not even hot anymore, so that's not much of a threat."
Farrokh did not laugh, instead looking concerned.
"I do not understand why you are always surprised to learn that people want you."
All of Bakhtiar's tenuous good mood vanished.
"You two don't even want me anymore, why would anyone else?"
Hurt and dismay filled their faces. Kurosh shoved the entire table aside and gently pushed him to the floor to lean over him.
"Why on earth would you think that?"
"Because you don't touch me anymore," Bakhtiar said.
"You kiss me and put me to bed like a child you want out of your way and do nothing."
Kurosh sighed. Farrokh closed his eyes, muttering several curses.
"My prince, we have been worried about you. Every night you get up and leave, you barely get three hours of sleep at a time. You rarely smile, you laugh even less. The first time I saw you light up in weeks was when you saw that pretty little thing in the garden reading a book. We wanted you to get rest, not exhaust you further."
"Let me up."
Kurosh ignored him, instead leaning down to kiss him in a way he hadn't in weeks, biting and hungry.
"You cannot truly believe we do not want you every hour of every day, Bakhti. The very moment you're healed up enough I'm going to remind all of us just how much of a hungry cock slut you are by using you accordingly."
Bakhtiar swore, tried to move, but between pain and Kurosh's expert hold, he wasn't going anywhere.
"You can't say things like and then not do something, you reprobate."
"Oh, I'm going to do something," Kurosh said in that silky, wicked tone that never failed to make Bakhtiar shiver and ache. He shifted slowly down Bakhtiar's body, mindful of his wounds, and pulled his cock from his loose pants, licking a stripe from base to tip, running a thumb over his slit and then dragging it across his own mouth.
"I've missed the taste of you, my prince."
Bakhtiar tried to reply, but then Kurosh swallowed him down and he couldn't even think, let alone speak. Everything was better and worse by the way Kurosh wouldn't let him move, pinning his hips tightly, leaving him with no choice but to simply lie there and take it.
"Kurosh—"
Hands landed heavy on his shoulders, pinning him there too, and he looked up at Farrokh, who smirked down at him.
"I know you like to be good for us, my prince, so be a good boy and hold still."
"I hate you both," Bakhtiar gasped out, but he obeyed, didn't he? As they held him fast and Farrokh kissed and caressed him and Kurosh sucked his cock with the same intense focus he hunted his kills. He swore he blacked out momentarily when he finally came, the first in weeks, and afterward he was so lethargic he couldn't move.
When he woke yet again, after still more sleeping, it was still dark, or dark again, and they sat at the table quietly conversing.
"What time is it? What day is it for that matter?"
"Salday, a little after three in the morning, your favorite time for sneaking away," Kurosh said.
"You could have come with me," Bakhtiar said.
"I just go to my office to get more work done, since it's easier for me to do so then."
Farrokh stared at him, eyes sharp and focused, a tutor determined to pin down his student.
"Easier how?"
"It's nothing," Bakhtiar said.
"It doesn't matter."
"It matters when you don't sleep," Kurosh said.
"It matters that you don't trust us to help you, when that is all we want to do."
"Does this have to do with how you read aloud to yourself? And always prefer to have something to toy with while you do it? I've had students like that before, I just don't know why I never noticed you were one of them. What do you prefer, Bakhti. Tell us."
Their faces said they wouldn't be letting the matter rest, so he may as well just get the humiliation over with.
"It's hard to focus when I read, I don't retain anything well, the knowledge just slides away instead of sticking. I do better when I can hear things, but I'm already told what a child I am a hundred times a day."
He could too easily imagine what people, what his siblings, would say to see him being read to like a child. Not to mention that it would take longer to do things, as reading aloud was so much slower.
Farrokh sighed and rose from the table, crossing the room to slide into bed next to him, grasping his face and forcing him to meet his gaze.
"Bakhti, I am sorry. I don't know what I did that you thought you could not tell me these things."
"I'm already considered hopeless," Bakhti said.
"Stupid. Reckless. Careless. Childish. Spoiled. Doesn't think. Doesn't care about consequences. I know what everyone thinks of me."
Farrokh kissed him softly.
"We have all failed you quite badly, Bakhti. Nobody thinks so poorly of you. We can be vexed by some of your decisions, yes. Like when you tried to save a baby bird by climbing a crumbling wall instead of simply calling for a ladder. Like walking around alone at night instead of taking even just a guard with you. Like keeping what you need to yourself instead of knocking us upside the head and making us listen."
"You're smart, you're beautiful, above all you are kind, Bakhti," Kurosh said, joining them.
"You are the kindest person I've ever known. Those flowers and tokens are not taking up half this room because people think badly of you. Quite the opposite, they think the world of you." Kurosh's mouth curved faintly.
"You should see the anger of the staff as they turn on those who helped to hurt you. They are far more terrifying than I will ever be."
Bakhtiar gave a bare nod.
"That's not terribly comforting when Kashi was apparently so smitten he decided to help kill me."
"Mmm, from what I've gathered so far, he didn't know the plan was to kill you. He thought the plan was to hurt you, teach you a lesson. In his head, he would be the one to oh so conveniently find you first and rescue you."
"And I'd be ever so grateful to him," Bakhtiar finished, feeling sick.
"I didn't know. How could I not realize?"
Farrokh replied, "Beloved, you didn't even realize that Reza was half in love with you. The difference is that Reza sees you as a person and respects boundaries. Kashi saw… what he wanted. A dream, a delusion. A prize to be won. More an object than a person. He was clearly operating with a diseased mind. Do not let him dwell in yours, he is not worth your thoughts."
"I'll try," Bakhtiar said.
"Reza is not—"
"Yes, he is," they said together, and Kurosh added, "I don't know how you can't see it given how much the two of you flirt. I was honestly starting to worry when you never mentioned asking him to join us."
"I didn't notice."
"Mmm, speaking of you and noticing things, I found someone," Farrokh said impishly.
"I believe they'll be here any moment. Stay here, I'll bring the tea over."
"No, please let me out of this damned bed. Please."
Kurosh smirked, and damn that pretty mouth, all it did was get Bakhtiar into all kinds of trouble. Though most of that trouble was enjoyable, to be fair.
"What will you give me if I let you up?"
"You know damn good and well I'll give you whatever you want like I already do," Bakhtiar said.
"I'm not exactly stingy with sexual favors, am I?"
"No, you—"
A knock at the door cut them off.
"Just as well," Farrokh said.
"He's in no shape to be our favorite toy right now. Your matching pouts don't make that less true. Kurosh, help him to the table. You will not tax yourself even the slightest, do you understand me?"
"I don't have to listen to you," Bakhtiar retorted uselessly.
As Kurosh helped him settle, Farrokh went to answer the door, and a moment later he was escorting two figures. The first was Reza, of course, who looked much improved on the last time Bakhtiar had seen him and smiled shyly as he caught Bakhtiar's eyes before dutifully bowing his head low.
The other person… the book reader. In full light, with no distractions, he was lovelier than ever, before he too, bowed his head low. As they reached him, the dropped to their knees to bow properly.
"Stand, please. Reza, you broke your fingers and nearly your arms for me, you don't have to bow."
"Yes, Your Highness," Reza said in a tone he knew damn well meant 'but I'm going to keep doing it anyway'.
Bakhtiar gave him a look that Reza answered with a bare hint of smile and the adorable, crinkled eyes, before he turned his attention to the mysterious reader.
"We meet properly at last, stranger. Who are you then?"
Farrokh replied, "This is Master Taher, the nephew of Lord Hesh, his late brother's child, visiting from Lenakta." That was a city in Fenn-Bar, known for its dyes and linen production.
"He is here to lend his services to his cousin Vida."
"Ah, I see." Hesh had a son and two daughters.
His youngest child, his daughter Vida, had fallen severely ill as a child, and wound up blind from it, or from medicine taken to treat it, nobody was certain, though the fight with the healer had been long and contentious.
That must have been who he was sitting with the other night.
Which must be four, five days ago now.
"Thank you for coming to see me, Master Taher. I am sorry to take you away from your cousin, I will not hold you if you must be with her."
"Not at all, Your Majesty. I was merely a fill-in while her regular attendant was called away on family business. But the family business has been settled, and she is expected to return tomorrow, at which point I will be rendered quite useless."
Bakhtiar could not fathom a man so compelling ever being useless.
Of course he also couldn't figure out how someone like Taher was related to Hesh of all people, but that was the royal court for you.
He didn't know much about Hesh's family beyond the court, only that there was a sister who had married a Rittuen and moved with him there, and a brother who'd married into a merchant family and moved to Lenakta many years ago, but died in a tragic fall from his horse.
That would explain why Taher seemed both nobility and not at the same time.
"What brings you to see me today, Master Taher?"
"Lord Farrokh said you were confined to your room for the next couple of weeks—"
"Oh, I'm not staying in here that long," he said, shooting a glare at Farrokh.
"Take it up with your mother, my prince."
"—and said you would enjoy a distraction, and would I be willing to come and read for you," Taher finished, looking between them like he wasn't certain if he should be concerned or amused.
Bakhtiar forgot all about bickering with Farrokh.
"Read to me?"
"Yes, my prince, read to you, because I know you enjoy it but of course at those breakfasts and such nobody ever lets you listen."
Taher smiled then, a small, sly thing full of mischief that also sparkled in his eyes.
"My esteemed uncle had many things to say about your flawless taaki match."
Bakhtiar groaned and poured himself some tea. He'd much rather wine, but that wasn't a good combination with the dream powder he'd undoubtedly be given when he went back to bed.
"Yes, I'm certain he did." He motioned for everyone to sit.
"Read to me then, Master Taher. Whatever you brought."
He'd intended to sit at the table, but Kurosh dragged him back to sprawl against him and the many cushions piled up behind and around them, and Bakhtiar would never complain about being allowed to use Kurosh as a pillow.
Farrokh moved the table out of the way, and arranged a smaller one between Reza and Taher, setting it with wine, before he moved to sit amidst all of them like he was keeping watch.
Taher's voice was even more beautiful than he remembered as he read a ballad from a book of poetry, and Bakhtiar was helplessly drawn to how at home he and Reza looked there, how seamlessly they seemed to fit.
Wishful thinking, probably, but it was a nice thought to let dance around in his head as he listened to Taher read until that lovely voice soothed him back to sleep.
***
Taher was reading poetry when Jahanara and Aradishir came to see him.
"I'm happy to see you looking so much improved," Aradishir said.
"When you were brought to your room after, you were so pale and still…"
Jahanara swept over to sit next to him as Kurosh moved out of the way, her concubine Nazli sitting on her other side, casting Kurosh a look of apology.
"You looked like you were already dead, Bakhti." She touched his cheek, just below the cut there that still stung a little bit when he talked too much.
"The healer refused to say whether or not you would make it for certain, and Mother was the most distressed I have ever seen her. We really thought…" She hugged him tightly.
"I'm so sorry, Bahkti. I was being a complete jerk. I didn't even care about the stupid earrings, I was just focusing my ire there instead of on what was actually bothering me. The minute I said that stupid joke at dinner, I knew it wasn't as funny as it had seemed in my head."
He curled an arm around her shoulder.
"It's fine. Normally I wouldn't have gotten so upset, I'd have just called you a spoiled cow and Mother and Father would have been mad at both of us."
She sniffle-laughed against his shoulder, then slowly sat up.
"Here, you may as well keep these. They looked better on you, anyway." She shoved the box containing the earrings into his hands.
"Stop getting into trouble, Bakhti."
"It's not like I asked to get beaten almost to death." He grinned faintly, ducking his head, when that predictably got him yelled at by everyone. When they finally left off, he glanced at Aradishir.
"How has general audience been?"
"Boring," Aradishir said.
"I don't know how you sit there for hours upon hours at a time, just an endless cycle of tragic farmers, abusive husbands, squabbling shopkeeps, and more. It feels like the problem solving never ends, like nothing is ever actually accomplished."
"The accomplishment is in the reports and the thank you cards they send you later," Bakhtiar replied.
"One shopkeep was so happy I forced the city to put an end to a rat problem that was definitely the city's fault that he sent me a cask of wine that had been sitting for ten years and would have made him a fortune. Because of rats he'd been plagued with for nearly as long. It's more satisfying than paperwork and council meetings."
"Well, I can't argue that," Aradishir said with a sigh.
"Thankfully, that duty has been shunted to Jahanara, who likes arguing with them the same as Mother. Everyone missed you." Aradishir moved to sit down nearby, his concubine Heydar beside him.
"Everywhere we go, servants stop to ask us about you, many have even given me little notes and such to pass along."
"I read them earlier, thank you for delivering them."
"What was in them? More 'get well soon' and such, I guess?"
Farrokh replied, "Oh, no, once His Highness was capable of being awake for more than five minutes, he immediately wanted to start catching up on everyone and everything. He's used to keeping up with the lives of the staff and all the backrooms gossip."
"You keep up with the lives of all the staff?" Jahanara asked in bewilderment.
"How? There are so many, and many of them change often. They're so busy all of the time, I try to minimize interfering with their day."
Bakhtiar shrugged.
"Father said connecting with people is important, as is understanding what each and every person does and contributes. I like talking to people anyway, and the staff always offer vastly different perspectives than nobles with an angle. Also if you're nice they really make certain to get you all the best pieces of pink melon and punch with good bits of fruit and everything else."
Aradishir was looking at Reza standing nearby.
"Don't you guard his office?"
"Yes, Your Highness, but he requested additional protection here, especially when Lord Kurosh is off making inquiries."
"Inquiries, is that what we're calling it now," Jahanara said dryly.