Chapter Three #3
Delauney glanced over Wes’ shoulder as he dictated a letter, eyeing the delicate script.
Delauney could barely read anything that wasn’t clearly printed, and his handwriting was a disaster.
It all flowed into each other, cluttered and incomprehensible.
At least most nobles dictated their letters in any case, and no one other than his family and childhood tutors had to know.
Even Ned wasn’t aware that most of the books in Delauney’s ship were there for appearances.
Halfway through the letter, Wes paused. “You’re writing to the Belmonts,” he said. “They have a cousin on the military council.”
Delauney drew back, surprised. Most sailors didn’t bother learning the names of the nobility unless they were serving on a ship. “That’s right.”
“You’re trying to do them a favor,” Wes said. “To influence the council somehow.”
“I’m just asking my brother to be a good neighbor and help them rebuild a road,” Delauney said.
“A trade road that avoids cutting through the Salyers’ lands,” Wes said. “The Salyers and the Belmonts have been fighting over trade routes for decades.”
“I know that, but how do you?”
Wes looked down, pinching his brows together. “My parents didn’t bother teaching my siblings and I about useful things like maths or science. They taught us noble family trees instead.”
“Really? So did mine!” Delauney sat on the edge of the bed, ravenously curious. “I suppose that makes sense, given that Captain Ferrin is in the guard. Did they want you to follow his example?”
Wes looked at Delauney as though he’d just suggested leaping off the ship. “Absolutely not.”
“What’s wrong with being the captain of the king’s guard?” Delauney asked.
“They didn’t want us guarding the nobility,” Wes said, his words dripping with disdain. “They wanted us to be the nobility. At least they gave up on me quickly enough.”
Ah. Delauney sat back. “Well, some people have been known to marry up.”
“I won’t,” Wes said. He turned back to the letter. “Why are you bribing the council, exactly?”
“It isn’t a bribe,” Delauney insisted. “I only want Cecil to be on good terms with me in case he wants to reconsider removing your pension, for example, or in case Lennox kicks up a fuss. It’s only business.”
“Oh, business.” Wes rolled his eyes.
“Would you prefer to die in a mine?” Delauney asked. “Or end up in poverty after your contract is up? I’ve never had pride, you see, so I’m curious to see how far other people would go to preserve theirs.”
“Of course you have pride; you’re a noble.”
Delauney got up and grabbed Wes’ chair. He turned it around toward the bed, ignoring Wes’ protests, and sat back down so that they were facing each other.
“Wesley. I need to tell you something of vital importance.” Wes narrowed his eyes.
“I have been pantsless in one of Staria’s finest establishments more than once.
I put far too much of a very unusual powder into my drink on my first week of leave and cried over a small figurine of a duck for two hours. I still have the duck, Wesley.”
“Well,” Wes said, “that’s just...”
Delauney interrupted him. “I let a man paddle me in the altogether right outside of my family estate when I was nineteen. My own father saw. I had to have a conversation with him about traumatizing my fellow countrymen with my backside. If I had pride, I misplaced it long ago.” Delauney gripped the arms of the chair, blocking Wes in.
“You’ve seen the state of my room. Am I the type of man who likes to be inconvenienced in any way? Even by my pride?”
“The piles could be a form of masochism,” Wes said.
“No. The answer is no. I do not like to be inconvenienced. Pride is an inconvenience. Work is an inconvenience. Bribing a country noble is hardly a mark on whatever honor I have left. But letting Cecil damn you to death by hard labor or destitution is worse. In my opinion, if you’d done the job properly and flayed Lennox to death, I would have given you a medal! ”
Wes blinked at him.
“Why must you stare at me so?” Delauney cried.
“I don’t think I’ve heard you sound so displeased before,” Wes said.
“I don’t like that, either.” Delauney tightened his grip on the chair. “I want life to be simple.”
“You probably shouldn’t have stuck your neck out for me if you wanted that,” Wes said.
“Allow me to help you,” Delauney said. “If doing a good deed means having to drag a man uphill both ways by his thumbs, I’m surprised that anyone bothers.”
They stared at each other for another tense moment. A submissive looking a dominant in the eye was generally frowned upon in polite society, but the same rules didn’t apply for other submissives. Still, Delauney had to struggle not to look vaguely over Wes’ shoulder or toward the wall.
Wes had remarkably dark eyes. They caught the light so easily, like the night sky catching stars.
“Fine,” Wes said.
“We’ll need to work on your manners, you know.” Delauney flopped back on his bed as Wes dragged the chair to the desk again. “You can’t look like a surly storm god if someone does drag you before the council. You’re a submissive. Surely you know how to pretend at contriteness.”