Chapter 20 #3
Odd. Perhaps Syrus had sent him lunch? Or Kien, as a peace offering? “I didn’t realize the palace kept a stock of tara tea. It’s my favorite, but I assumed the queen wouldn’t want a Canjiri blend here.”
Marla glanced toward the door, then leaned in a little closer, like she was imparting a secret. “I don’t believe the queen is aware of the origin of spice tea, sir.”
The idea of Queen Delia unknowingly enjoying a Canjiri drink perhaps shouldn’t have delighted him as much as it did. Eiri had never claimed to be a good person, though, so he let himself enjoy the thought.
“Thank you for that. And for lunch and the conversation. To be honest, I needed something to smile about today.”
“I’m happy to help however I can,” she said with a small bow. She started to walk out, but hesitated, biting her lip like she wanted to say something else.
“You don’t have to worry about the proprieties with me,” he assured her. “Honestly, I’m terrible at being a prince and it’d be nice to talk to someone without worrying about all the rules and etiquette.”
“I don’t think you’re a terrible prince.
” Marla straightened and met his eyes. It was obvious she’d been trained not to do so from the way she struggled to maintain eye contact, but she managed.
“I just wanted to stay that you have more allies here than you think. A lot of the staff and even some of the courtiers have different opinions but are afraid to say so and go against the queen.”
Eiri blinked, at a loss for words. Of all the things she could have said, that was the least expected.
“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” she murmured when he didn’t respond, her eyes dropping to the floor.
“No, not at all. You just surprised me. I didn’t expect that.”
Marla breathed a sigh of relief, her eyes flickering back up to his after a moment. “A lot of us are hoping that things will change now that you and Prince Syrus are married.”
“Me, too,” he admitted quietly. He realized he was smiling but didn’t try to hide it. He was still nervous about tonight, but with just a few words, Marla had given him more hope than he’d had in a long time.
“I have to get back to work, but it was nice to see you again, sir.”
“You, too. Thank you, Marla.”
Her words remained even after she walked out, keeping his head spinning. Could it be true? Did he really have people here in the palace who supported him? Either way, Marla had given him a lot to think about.
He tried again to make it to the washroom to wash his hands, only for another knock to interrupt him. Most days, he didn’t even see one person. Two in a row never happened.
Opening the door, he couldn’t stop a small smile when he saw Syrus standing in the hallway. They hadn’t seen each other since parting ways yesterday, and the flutter in his stomach at the sight of the other man startled him.
“Hi,” he said belatedly, realizing he’d been standing there like an idiot for far too long.
“Hi.” Syrus smiled, and it just made the fluttering worse. The phantom memory of warm lips and callused fingers on his skin made him shiver, something Syrus noticed, if the flare of heat in his dark eyes was any indication.
“Come in. Sorry.” Eiri hurriedly stepped aside, allowing Syrus into the room and closing the door behind him. Was it already time to get ready for the party?
“I know you’re probably busy, but I just wanted to check in on you and see if you’d eaten yet?”
“Not yet. I assume you’re not the one who sent that, then?” Eiri nodded toward the tray on the table, and Syrus shook his head.
“I’d actually planned to see if you had time to join me for lunch outside, but if you’re busy…”
“I’ll have everything done in time. I probably should take a break, though,” he said quickly. He hated to let the tray go to waste, but he’d much rather be outside in the fresh air with Syrus. “I was just going to wash my hands.”
Syrus glanced down and spotted Eiri’s finger, the drop of blood still sitting on the tip. He tilted his head in question, and Eiri flushed.
“I didn’t keep an eye on the sewing needle,” he admitted.
“Let me wrap it for you?”
Just a few days ago, that would have sparked an argument.
Eiri would have protested that he was perfectly capable of tending a tiny wound like this, immediately going on the offensive, and he knew Syrus would likely have responded in kind.
Now, he just nodded and let Syrus guide him to the washroom and rinse the blood from his finger in the cool water.
The thin layer of linen gauze Syrus wrapped around his fingertip was entirely unnecessary, but with his callused hands lingering on Eiri’s skin, he couldn’t find it in him to protest.
“There,” Syrus murmured, looking up at him.
Their eyes met, and a flurry of memories hit him like a tidal wave: the feeling of broad shoulders under his hands and the hard length pressing against his stomach when their bodies met.
He couldn’t have stopped his body from reacting even if he’d wanted to.
Syrus licked his lips, a move that sent a bolt of heat through Eiri’s stomach. “Can I—”
“Yes,” Eiri breathed, the word barely escaping his lips before Syrus kissed him and everything else disappeared.
The upcoming party, the stress and fear and worry…
everything melted away in the fires that grew between them, blazing to an inferno the moment they touched.
All those years spent fighting each other and the anger every time Syrus stopped him morphed into a burning need, flowing through him and finally directed at the man who caused it.
It wasn’t the time, wasn’t the place, but Eiri couldn’t make himself care.
He shoved at Syrus’ clothes, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt and cursing stiff Vaetrean clothing.
His own soft, loose shirt slid up easily, Syrus’ rough hands hot against his skin, and he gasped, tearing himself away from his husband’s lips to pant for breath.
“Off,” he ordered, trying again to get the buttons open without actually looking away from Syrus’ face.
“Bossy,” Syrus smirked, and Eiri was inordinately pleased to hear the rasp in Syrus’ voice, betraying just how affected he was by this, too. He was even more pleased when Syrus obeyed, easily slipping the buttons open and letting his shirt part, exposing a sliver of his broad chest.
Eiri groaned, eyes locked on that expanse of bare skin.
He’d had lovers before, but none like Syrus.
The man’s pale blue shirt was a sharp contrast to his dark skin and the wiry curls of hair on his chest. His lifetime as a soldier had left him solidly muscled, with a roundness to his stomach that spoke to his other life as a pampered royal.
He couldn’t help but look, eyes tracing each ridge of muscle and every old scar, several of which were his own handiwork.
“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
There was a teasing lilt to Syrus’ voice, and Eiri finally gave in to temptation, running his hands up the man’s stomach and chest, up to his shoulders to push the shirt fully off.
“It is,” he assured him as the fabric pooled on the floor at their feet, leaving Syrus’ upper body bare.
He wasn’t perfect, but who was? Eiri leaned in for another kiss, but Syrus stopped him.
Before he could protest, Syrus pushed his shirt up and off, letting it fall to the ground with Syrus’.
He’d never felt one way or the other about his own body, but no one had ever looked at him the way Syrus did now.
“Fucking beautiful,” he said, rasping out the words.
“I can’t say anyone has ever called me that before.”
“Then they must have been blind.” Syrus slid his arm around Eiri’s waist, pulling him in close, bare skin against bare skin, and Eiri nearly moaned out loud at how good it felt.
Eiri knew he was too skinny, though he’d gained some weight since coming to Vaetreas, but Syrus was still nearly twice his size, and that shouldn’t have excited him as much as it did.
Then Syrus kissed him again and his thoughts scattered, hands scrabbling at Syrus’ shoulders, trying to get closer, closer, the heat building out of control, and he wanted to let it burn.
He rocked against Syrus, whining into their kiss at the contact, but the angle wasn’t right.
He was only a few inches taller than Syrus, but it was enough.
“Hold on.”
That was the only warning Eiri got before Syrus moved, picking him up as though he weighed nothing. Instinct had him wrapping his legs around Syrus’ hips as he took a step, then another, until Eiri’s back met the wall, giving them leverage and changing the angle until it was just right.
“Fuck,” he gasped, head falling back as Syrus thrust against him, sending waves of pleasure through him even with the layers of their trousers separating them.
All the pent-up emotions and desires he’d held back burst free and he rocked forward, the two of them falling into a panting, desperate rhythm.
No time to fight with more buttons and ties, not when Eiri was already so fucking close he felt like he was going to implode.
His shaking hands reached for Syrus, tangling in his thick braids and holding on as he kissed him as though he’d die if he didn’t.