Chapter 20 #2
“Hey.” The gravelly rasp in Syrus’ voice did nothing to calm Eiri’s desire. He needed to step back, to put some distance between them, but Syrus’ arms kept him in place. He probably could have gotten free if he’d actually wanted to, but he let the other man stop him.
“We should let them back in so we can plan,” he whispered. It came out more breathless than he would have expected, exposing how much that kiss had affected him.
“We will in a moment, after we agree that we’re not going to pretend this never happened.”
Eiri looked up at him, startled. “I…” He wanted to say he wouldn’t do that, but would it be a lie? Once his common sense kicked in, he couldn’t honestly say how he’d feel about this. Instead, he just sighed. “This is going to complicate things.”
“I don’t think so,” Syrus said, shaking his head. “We’re already married. Actually liking each other could only help at this point.”
“Syrus? You didn’t actually kill each other, did you?” Ellis called through the door, and Eiri had to bite back a laugh.
“Just a minute!” Syrus said over his shoulder without taking his eyes off Eiri.
“I guarantee that our liking each other wasn’t what anyone had planned when they pushed us into this marriage,” Eiri reminded him.
“Good. They’ve fucked with us from the very beginning, so messing up their plans sounds pretty damn good to me.”
Syrus smirked, and Eiri couldn’t hold back his answering smile. “Me too.”
“No going backwards from here?”
“No going backward.”
This time Eiri leaned in first, pushing back the worries trying to creep up on him. This kiss was gentler, sealing the agreement between them without feeding the fire of want still burning low in his belly.
“We should probably let them back in,” Syrus murmured, but he made no move to step away.
“Probably.” Eiri hated being the voice of reason, but one of them had to be. “If we’re going to make this work, we actually have to come up with a plan.” He eased back and Syrus released him, his touch lingering a moment longer before falling away.
“There’s the Eiri I know.” Syrus took a moment to adjust his clothing where Eiri’s hands had rumpled the fabric, looking oddly pleased as he did so. While he went to let the other two back in, Eiri took a moment to do the same, tugging the wrinkles out of his soft shirt.
Xan and Ellis came back in a few moments later, bringing an odd tension with them.
Xan went straight to the table and sat down, picking up the wine bottle and pouring himself a full glass without looking at any of them.
Ellis, meanwhile, was flushed, his smile forced.
When Eiri glanced over at Syrus, he got a confused shrug in reply to his silent question.
“Is everything alright?” he asked them, noting the way they carefully didn’t look at each other.
“I’m fine.”
“We’re fine.”
Their answers overlapped each other, and yet they still didn’t look at any of them.
Unfortunately, their issues would have to wait until they figured out this mess with Queen Delia.
Syrus took a seat, only this time, he chose the chair beside Eiri rather than the one at the end of the table.
Xan and Ellis didn’t seem to notice the change, too caught up in their own drama, which was an odd relief.
Eiri wasn’t sure he was quite ready to share the details of the changes in his relationship with Syrus, not when he hadn’t figured it out himself.
“Alright.” Syrus sat up straighter, everyone’s attention shifting to him. “Let’s get to work.”
The solution they finally came up with was a half-measure, at best, but it would have to do for now.
With limited resources and only the four of them, there was only so much they could accomplish in a hurry.
More likely than not, they were just going to piss everyone off, incur the retribution of the queen, and have the gossip-mongers whispering for weeks.
Despite that, Eiri didn’t let himself get discouraged. He’d walked into that room yesterday at rock bottom, alone and exhausted. He’d walked out with two people he could now consider friends and a tentative agreement with his husband.
There were half a dozen things he needed to focus on, things he needed to get done before the celebration tonight, but try as he might to concentrate, his thoughts kept circling back to Syrus.
Specifically, the way Syrus had kissed him as though he meant something.
It wasn’t just something that happened in the heat of the moment.
He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t been thinking clearly.
Even though he’d been falling apart, Syrus had waited for his consent.
It was hard to reconcile the man who’d held him while he cried, whose touches set his skin alight, with the man who’d sneered at him and called him trash just a few weeks ago.
If he let himself linger on it too long, insecurity tried to creep back in, fueled by Kien’s harsh words.
He hadn’t seen the other man since they’d spoken yesterday morning, and he’d promised Syrus he wouldn’t retreat from this, but it was easier said than done.
For all that he’d judged Syrus for acting on old prejudices, he was finding it just as hard to let go of his own.
He’d deal with that later, though. Right now, he had only a few more hours to get everything ready before the party tonight.
It was a birthday celebration for a princess, but Eiri couldn’t remember which one.
None of the royal family had introduced themselves to him, aside from Ellis.
He knew the queen’s name and that of her husband, Syrano, along with crown prince Brandow.
There were two sisters between Brandow and Syrus, then a younger sister, and finally Ellis.
All the older siblings were married, or Eiri likely would have found himself betrothed to one of the princesses.
Personal preference had no place in these marriage contracts, something he’d quickly learned when an old crew mate of his, Larilia, was married to a male baron from Gavarria, despite preferring other women.
Whoever had come up with this ridiculous idea of marriage contracts to cobble together a shaky peace ought to be forced into a marriage of their own.
A sharp stab of pain in his finger pulled his wandering thoughts back to the project at hand, reminding him he needed to pay attention.
One of Syrus’ old formal coats lay spread across his lap, his writing desk taken over by spools of thread.
A similar one, belonging to Ellis, lay spread out on the bed, finished and awaiting its owner.
Lost in his thoughts, the needle bit deeply into his fingertip, drawing a drop of blood to the surface.
The plan, naturally, had come from Xan, who knew more about fashion at court than the other three of them combined.
According to him, the clothing one wore spoke volumes without the wearer having to say a word.
Eiri was aware of that much, having seen the looks directed at him for wearing his formal Canjiri attire to his wedding.
At home, the clothing would have drawn comments only for how good he looked in them.
Here, according to Xan, his clothing was considered garish, and wearing red, the color of luck, prosperity, and happiness at home, was an insult in Vaetreas.
So, with Xan’s guidance, they were going to make a statement through fashion. Something small enough to hopefully keep the queen from retaliating too hard, but bold enough to make everyone aware that Syrus was standing with his husband.
To that end, Eiri had been up all night embroidering Canjiri designs into jackets for Syrus and Ellis.
They’d both chosen white garments, so the red flowers would clearly stand out.
If he’d had more time, he could have added more detail, but these would do for the evening.
Xan had declared he would do his own, of course, and would also create an outfit for Eiri to wear tonight.
It went against every promise he’d made to himself to hold on to his heritage, but he’d agreed to compromise.
He would wear Vaetrean clothing tonight, but Xan promised to alter it enough to stay true to his roots.
Choosing the red thread proved to be a wise decision.
Eiri cursed when he stabbed himself again and a droplet of blood soaked into the thread, another welling up behind it.
He hurriedly put the jacket on the desk before he dripped on that, as well, but before he could get to the washroom, someone knocked on the door.
It wasn’t Kien’s brisk rap, for which he was grateful.
He didn’t want to face the man just yet, not until this was done.
Keeping his thumb pressed against the tiny wound, he opened the door to find a servant outside, holding a tea tray. After a moment, he realized he recognized her.
“Marla, right?” She’d been the first person to be nice to him when he arrived, but he hadn’t seen her since his first night at the palace. “I didn’t ask for anything,” he said, but stepped aside to allow her inside anyway. The tray looked heavy.
She smiled warmly as she stepped inside.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me.” She quickly set everything down on the small table near the window and lifted the lid to reveal a small tea service, including a plate of tiny sandwiches and another of little pastries.
The teapot was small, only enough for perhaps three cups, but to his surprise, he caught the distinct scent of the spiced tea popular back on Canjir.
“You’re the only palace staff who will actually talk to me,” he said with a wry smile. “Thank you. Can I ask who ordered this for me? I’d like to thank them.”
“I’m not sure. Cecile just told me to bring it up. Cecile is the head of the kitchen,” she added at his blank look.