Chapter 12
Twelve
RODIAN
Rodian refused to leave the room where the palace guard was handling the traitors and the dead, but he did allow himself to be ushered as far away from the poison the four had sought to use against him and Arkadi.
Unbidden, Rodian’s attention latched onto Arkadi, the tall young man looking far less frazzled than any of the palace guard.
One hair stick was askew, the knot of his hair coming half-undone.
Rodian still didn’t know how long Arkadi’s hair was, but his fingers itched to run through the loose strands he could see.
You saved my life, he thought, briefly meeting Arkadi’s gaze over the shoulders of the palace guards that stood around him in a protective circle. Arkadi wrenched his gaze away, and Rodian wanted to reach out to catch his chin and force the younger man to look at him.
“Should we call for a healer?” a guard asked, gesturing at where Vissarion was bleeding out in the chair.
“No,” Rodian said, not needing to think about the answer.
The guard in question nodded. “And the others?”
“They’ll be tried for attempted murder of the Isar,” Arkadi spoke up.
“And you should be tried for being a Blade,” Sigurd snarled.
The dip in conversation was impossible to miss. So, too, was the faint flinch that ran through Arkadi’s body. Rodian wanted so much to hold him close and soothe the younger man, to let him know that Rodian would never hold his road against him.
Surprisingly, the lieutenant on duty said, “Minister Arkadi did his duty to save the Isar. For that, the guard sees no Blade in this room.”
Arkadi did a double take, gaze skittering from the soldier to Rodian, who never looked away. “Come here, Arkadi.”
The younger man hesitated before obeying. As he crossed the room, he paused by the lieutenant long enough to say, “Kaja poisoned the Isar’s tea. Be careful of touching anything.”
“A magician has been summoned,” the lieutenant said with a nod of acknowledgment.
Arkadi nodded, and as soon as he was within arm’s reach, Roadian didn’t hesitate to drag him close, pinning that lean body against his own.
Arkadi looked up at him through thick lashes, uncertainty in those glacial eyes.
Rodian kept his arm wrapped around Arkadi’s waist, hand resting over one hip.
It was the closest they’d ever been since the night Rodian had accidentally run into the other man on the balcony during his coronation ball.
He was loath to ever let Arkadi go again.
Lidiya hurried through the doorway just then, her face pale as she took in the situation. “Isar, are you all right?”
“I am alive and well,” Rodian said.
“You almost weren’t,” Arkadi muttered in a low voice.
Rodian turned his head, leaning in close so his lips brushed over Arkadi’s temple. The shiver that racked the younger man’s body was a delicious thing. “I seemed to have been saved by a miracle.”
Arkadi had no response to that. Rodian let him keep his silence as Lidiya approached. She gave the four Ministers being dealt with by the palace guard a wide berth, her attention focused on Rodian. “What happened, Isar?”
“The Ministers had a disagreement on the amendment I proposed regarding the tithes to the wardens,” Rodian said.
Lidiya drew in a deep breath, worry etched in her face. “They tried to kill you. That is treason.”
“They will be dealt with.” Rodian would make sure of it. So, too, would he make sure the survivors never spoke of Arkadi as a Blade, even if it meant carving out their tongues.
Rodian knew the ivoryanin thought he lacked grace for being from the country. But even in the far north, he’d heard of Blades. Rumors he thought were just that—rumors. Yet the truth of them stood beside him, had killed to keep him safe. Rodian could not condemn Arkadi for following his road.
That road had led the other man to Rodian, who didn’t want to ever let him go.
“Isar, we’re going to move you,” the lieutenant said, gesturing for him to follow her. The palace guard seemed a little tense, probably because he was still within the same walls as the people who had tried to kill him.
Rodian was fine with leaving, but he didn’t want to be stuck in endless meetings for the rest of the day, rehashing everything that had happened that afternoon.
What he wanted to do was get Arkadi alone, lay the younger man out on the nearest flat surface, and sink his cock into that perfect ass that was always so difficult to keep from touching while they danced.
The one perk about being Isar was that he could do just that.
“Arkadi and I need to speak with each other about what happened,” Rodian said, guiding the younger man to the door. “We are not to be disturbed.”
He could feel the tension coiling tighter in Arkadi’s muscles, and he wanted so badly to soothe him, but the words Rodian wanted to speak weren’t meant for an audience.