Chapter 13
Emmeric
It took Emmeric seven days to reach the town of Huton, which was still a three-day ride out from Athusia. Even after he had stolen a horse. Instead of visiting the next village over and trekking across the Aula Pass, like he told Iyana he’d do, he’d instead pilfered a horse from them, riding to the edge of the Sea of Stars. He hated stealing the horse but decided it was a necessity and left some money as recompense. After a day and a half, he reached the sea and was forced to wait there for two days until the next ferry was available. At least he still had some coin and was able to stay at an inn, fed and warm, instead of finding a stable and bed of hay somewhere. Fortunately, once he was on the ferry, it only took half a day to reach the shores of Athusa. Then it was another three days’ ride to Huton. This was the most he had ever traveled on his own, and he found it to be absolutely terrible. And quiet. Typically, there were multiple people taking turns on watch, but when it was solely him, he had to sleep. But he also didn’t want to be killed in his sleep by bandits or a jaguar or some shit. That would be embarrassing. So he jerked awake at any little noise, his horse sleeping peacefully beside him, gaining maybe an hour or two of rest each night.
Emmeric also began talking to the horse to pass the time. Not usually one for conversations or crowds, he found himself within the new territory of craving human company.
By the time he made it to an inn, he felt close to passing out from sheer exhaustion. He’d had to sell the horse to pay for his stay and determined it was well worth it as he tumbled into bed. Without bothering to eat, undress, or bathe, Emmeric slept.
Everything was black. There was no up or down, no left or right. He couldn’t see his body. He’d only ever been in darkness this complete once, when he’d explored a cave too deeply as a child. Unlike that harrowing experience, he was not freezing cold. If anything, he was pleasantly warm. Emmeric seemed to be standing on something solid, but, crouching down, his hand passed through air beyond his feet. Spinning in a circle, he scanned the darkness for a hint of where he might be. He stopped.
There.
A small flicker of light, no larger than a firefly. As he watched, the light grew, moving towards him and gradually forming into a woman. It wasn’t until she was almost upon him that he realized it was Iyana. She continued walking towards him, the glow fading the closer she came, but golden sparks continued to surround her, creating an electric charge between them. Her luscious dark hair floated around her as if she were underwater. Eyes dipping lower, he noticed her sheer white gown. Iyana’s entire body was on display: her golden-tan skin, her full breasts that would be a perfect handful, the dip at her waist, her taut stomach and curves of her hips—the space between her legs. He felt himself hardening. Before he was ready—he would happily stare at her all day—she was upon him, hands running up his chest, pressing her delicious body close to his. She gasped as she encountered his arousal, grinding her hips right where he wanted her to.
He broke. Grabbing her face between his hands, he pressed his lips to hers with a fervor he hadn’t realized he possessed. She groaned into his mouth, grinding against him again. He wanted to eat that sound and took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Their tongues danced together, bodies pressing in closer. He tilted her head back farther, kissing down her neck. His mouth found the perfectly raised bud of her nipple, sucking on it through her gown. When she gasped and grabbed his hair, he flicked it with his tongue.
He looked up to see her beautiful face as he gave her pleasure, but then she smiled sadly at him and pushed him away.
He fell, fell, fell…
Emmeric woke up, hitting the floor hard after rolling off the bed. He groaned, laying still for a moment to recover. Shoving himself to a sitting position, he rubbed his ankle. He had hurt it somehow a couple days prior, and the fall definitely did it no favors. His other hand pressed into his chest. The tightness there had been worsening the further he traveled—like a band pulled taut and ready to snap. Although he didn’t want to admit it, he knew it was the distance from Iyana. Glancing out the window, he saw it was dusk. He’d slept for a few hours then.
He bathed first before going downstairs for dinner, thinking the other guests may be appreciative after a week on the road. Huton was one of the few towns outside of Athusia with hot water on tap, and he loved sinking into the luxurious heat after only bathing in frigid streams. Relaxing in the bath, he thought about the dream. The dream that most certainly did not mean he wanted Iyana. Because he didn’t. She was attractive, sure… but then he remembered how she moved against his body, and the little gasps when he did something she liked. His blood all rushed south, and a very important body part did not get the memo Iyana was not who or what he desired. That dream, though… He recognized it wasn’t real—Iyana hated him—but it felt real; she had been right there in his arms. It had been a little while since his last tryst; so, with a resigned sigh, he reached beneath the water, gripping himself firmly. Telling himself the whole time, it doesn’t mean anything.
Zane
Zane rode into Huton with only three other men, all wearing civilian clothing. He wanted to fly under the radar as much as possible. Unfortunately, that also meant Ryunn had to stay behind. The horse’s size and pedigree would scream royalty, as would too large of a party, especially if it appeared one man was being ‘covertly’ protected. So, he needed to pretend he was friends with these other men instead of being above them. But that presented a problem—he couldn’t even remember their names. Had he been wearing the mask of an asshole to protect himself for so long he actually became an asshole? While they meandered through the streets to find an inn, he tried to put a name to the faces. Two of them were almost identical, with a similar hulking height and build, dull brown hair—maybe they were brothers. One was Greg, he thought—it definitely started with a ‘G’.
“Geoffrey will go procure our rooms for us,” said the third in his company. Geoffrey. The third member was decidedly different from the other two. For one, he had long, wavy, bright red hair that he obviously took great pride in. And, two, he was always laughing and happy. The opposite of Zane in almost every way. Zane would rather be on his own, reading a book, whereas this man thrived in the company of others. During the three days it took to travel, he was the only one who would talk to Zane like he was an actual person and not a crown prince. What was his name? Something animal related. He remembered that much. Claw…? That didn’t seem right. But they were at the stables, and about to go inside. He’d figure it out later.
“Book them indefinitely, Geoffrey,” Zane said, using the man’s name as if he hadn’t learned it only a minute ago. “I don’t know how long we’ll be staying here.” The man nodded and ducked inside. The rest of them unloaded their packs and brushed down the horses. Luckily, they had arrived in time for dinner, and the group of four settled at a table. A pretty woman set down a tankard of beer in front of all of them. He scanned her from head to toe; she smiled and winked in response. This was the great thing about being on the road—his father had no say in who he took to bed. Uther would consider a barmaid unworthy of his attention.
“They only had two rooms left,” said Geoffrey. “Sorry.” He nodded in Zane’s direction.
“That’s alright,” said…Beak? No. “You and Gordon can bunk together, and Zane and I will share.” He gave Zane a hearty pat on the back, and the small interaction made him feel so much lighter. Rarely would anyone call him by his given name, without a title attached. It was always Crown Prince Zane, or Your Highness, or sire. He honestly could not remember the last time someone had addressed him solely as Zane. Even with his father, he rarely was simply himself.
They ate their dinner in silence, the only sounds at their table those of chewing or slurping beer, but the rest of the tavern was getting rowdy with drunken men arguing over poker games. He locked eyes with the barmaid across the room, motioning towards the stairs. With a toothy grin, she removed her apron and left the dining hall. Zane stood to follow her, but then remembered he’d be sharing his room with someone. He glanced at the redhead.
“Go on,” he said. “We’ll be down here for a bit yet.” Zane managed a small smile, but it was genuine. And then he surprised himself by patting the man’s shoulder as he left the table. He never struck up a comradery with his guards, not after the last time. “Alright, boys, time for some poker,” said the redhead, clapping his hands together.
Gordon groaned. Or was it Geoffrey? “You sweep the floor with us every time, Talon.” Talon. Zane liked it, it fit him.
“I can’t help it if you both have awful tells,” said Talon, beaming. He was always smiling. “Seriously, didn’t your father teach either of you about a poker face?” Ha! They were brothers. As Zane walked away, they continued their friendly conversation, and he was a little sad he wasn’t taking part. But he didn’t belong. Those weren’t his actual friends—they were just play-acting. He considered going back, maybe ask to join their game.
But the busty barmaid was waiting at his door, leaning against it so her breasts pushed forward more, and Zane resolved to lose himself in a wholly different activity instead. He knew how to do this. Making friends was harder for him. So he pressed his body to hers, unlocking the door behind her and walking inside. Once he had the door closed, she forced him against it and captured his lips. She kissed like she was starving, and Zane gave back what he received. Picking her up, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and he walked them to the bed without breaking the kiss. Her tongue swept inside his mouth, and he let her take charge.
They undressed hurriedly, and she really did have magnificent breasts. He sucked on each nipple, causing her to arch her back with a gasp. Then, kissing his way down her stomach, he found she loved it when he sucked and licked a wholly different area. It didn’t take long for her to come with a lusty cry, and then she was pulling him back up to her by his hair. She was an eager lover, and he was more than happy to oblige. Kissing her deeply again so she’d taste herself on his tongue, he entered her with one swift motion. He fucked her hard and fast, chasing his release. It came upon him quickly, and he withdrew at the last possible second, spilling himself over her stomach. For several moments, it was quiet except for heavy breathing. She tried to caress his skin, getting closer to kiss him again. Instead he stood, wetting a rag in the bathing room, and cleaned her of his mess. Then, like the ass he was, he dumped her clothing on her lap.
“I don’t cuddle,” he said. She appeared disappointed, but said nothing as she dressed and left the room.
Zane sighed as he flopped back onto the bed, not bothering to get dressed. Talon said they’d be awhile, anyway. The release only provided a reprieve from his thoughts for so long, and she wasn’t exactly the flavor he’d been craving, anyway. Staring at the ceiling, hands behind his head, he wondered how long he could stay here without doing as his father asked before Uther discovered him. Because he always did. Somehow, the old man knew precisely when he was somewhere he shouldn’t be or when he was lingering in one place for too long.
Zane prided himself on being the empire’s top tracker. When he had been twenty-one, his father’s go-to had challenged him to a tracking contest. Uther tasked a man with leaving Athusia and he was given a day’s head start. There were no rules—he was allowed to hide or run to wherever he saw fit. Not only did Zane find him within three hours—he’d holed up in a brothel at the edge of the city—but the other tracker stepped into a hunter’s snare deep within the forest, and the prince found him as well. Uther only used Zane from then on for the more complex missions. Especially since he was confident an opposing party would be unable to tempt his son to abscond the empire or betray his sovereign; the emperor had the prince under his thumb. Even when he didn’t personally agree with missions he’d been tasked with, Zane never complained. His time outside of the castle was too precious to risk losing it.
Wondering what his father wanted a tiny village woman for, he figured he was better off not knowing. Because that’s what he did. He ignored his father’s misdeeds, tried to keep himself on his less-bad side, and waited for the bastard to die. Zane was not particularly excited about gaining the throne, becoming emperor, ruling an entire empire. But if Uther was dead, he’d be free. His people would be free. He could drop the mask he always wore and be himself.
He would no longer feel as if he was drowning.
Emmeric
Aloud, raucous cheer from downstairs woke Emmeric abruptly. Groaning, he rolled over, only to notice it was fully dark outside the window. Godsdammit, he’d missed dinner. His stomach chose that moment to growl, protesting his choice of priorities. He really hadn’t meant to sleep through the afternoon, only a twenty-minute nap at most. But the past week had caught up to him, and he slept peacefully. Thankfully, without any dreams. Emmeric had taken this extra day to recuperate, eat good meals, and sleep in an actual bed, but he planned on leaving in the morning. Hopefully a merchant would take pity on him and let him bum a ride in their wagon so he wouldn’t need to walk the entire distance to Athusia.
Splashing his face with cold water, he decided to see if there was still some stew and bread left in the kitchen. The cook was a portly middle-aged woman, but he found flattery could get you most places, so if he had to flirt with her to eat he’d do it. He padded downstairs, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, but stopped short at the doorway into the tavern.
Across the room was a shock of bright red hair. Was it? Then a familiar laugh rang out through the room. He knew that laugh, he’d grown up with that laugh. Emmeric was stuck. He didn’t know if he should go over there and say, hey, I’m alive, or tackle him, or bolt back up to his room to compose himself. Before he decided, Talon raised his head, finding Emmeric immediately. His eyes widened. He made a show of stretching and yawning, then collected his winnings from the two men he was with. Was that Geoff and Gordon? He signaled to the stairs with a subtle nod, and Emmeric took the hint, climbing back up to his room, hearing Talon’s footsteps a beat behind him.
Talon burst into his room, slammed the door behind him, and wrapped Emmeric in a tight hug. Emmeric clung to his friend, fighting back tears, the familiar scent of spiced rum enveloping him. Gods, he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed this man. Pulling out of the hug, Talon rested his forehead against Emmeric’s, and took a deep, shuddering breath. They stayed that way for a moment, soaking in each other’s presence.
“I’m so happy you’re okay,” Talon whispered.
“I worried you were dead,” said Emmeric.
“I thought you were dead,” exclaimed Talon, standing back. “What the fuck happened, old man?”
Emmeric ran his hand through his hair, letting out a breath through pursed lips. “Fuck, what didn’t happen… But you,” he said, pointing an accusatory finger at Talon.
“Me?” he asked, confused.
“What in the nine hells were you thinking out there?” Emmeric asked in a forced whisper. “Trying to evacuate the villagers?”
Talon glanced back at the door to make sure it was closed. “You saw me?” They were both whispering now.
“No, but an old woman in the village did. She’s the one who informed me of your…heroics.” He was sufficiently angry at his best friend, now that he knew he was safe.
“Phaedros take you, Emmeric, don’t make it seem like saving innocents is a bad thing,” said Talon. His voice was raising as he also became angry.
Emmeric gripped his hair. “It’s not, Talon,” he started. “I just—” He sighed. “I wish you had let me in on it. You realize I would’ve helped, right?”
“After a shit-ton of grumbling and trying to convince me out of it,” Talon pointed out.
“Well, yeah,” he conceded. “But what if someone else saw you? If Imo noticed, somebody else could have too. Someone who would readily turn you in to the authorities. And we’ve all seen the punishment Uther doles out for shit like that.”
“I know, I know,” said Talon. He paced the room. “That’s why I kept you out of it. It was my idea. I should be the only one going down for it.”
“Talon,” Emmeric chastised. “If you go down, I go down with you.”
“Okay, fine. I’ll give you a heads-up next time.” Talon grinned. He never stayed in a bad mood for long. “But never do this to me again, man. Honest to Altea, I thought she had whisked you off to the Everlands. I’ve been frantic all this past week.”
Emmeric raised his eyebrows. “Could’ve fooled me. You seemed to be having a great time with the twins.”
Talon waved his hand in dismissal. “You know me. I hide all my deepest, darkest feelings behind humor.” There was another winning smile. “But tell me what happened.”
Emmeric inhaled deeply and launched into a recap of the crazy week he’d had. He debated against telling Talon about Altair and his plans against Emperor Uther, but in the end he decided that it would be awful to be hypocritical just a few minutes after asking Talon to be open with him. So he told him everything. The falling star that crashed during the raid was Altair. Iyana had called to the stars for assistance to fight back, the discussion with Imo and Altair, Imo dying, and then his lonely trek back here. He left out the weird dream from the previous night, thinking it was a one-off and not Tal’s business. The telling took longer than he anticipated, and by the end they were both sitting on the ground, backs against the bed, sipping on some whiskey Talon had run down to grab when he realized how insane this story was.
“So,” Talon said. “If I understand this correctly, this girl—”
“Iyana,” Emmeric interrupted. Talon looked at him suspiciously.
“Iyana…is the Aztia, a super special person who comes about once in a generation and has a fuck-ton of magic.”
“Yup,” said Emmeric, taking another sip of whiskey. He wanted to chug the bottle.
“And you’re the Kanaliza—”
“Allegedly,” he interrupted again.
“Shut the fuck up, man,” said Talon, shoving him. “So you’re this Kanaliza, essentially a conduit, there to direct and amplify her magic. And…she and the star, who is now an attractive man…”
“I did not use the word attractive,” he protested.
“I’m just assuming,” said Talon, continuing. “They’re plotting against the emperor, who apparently is this super great evil bent on taking over all of Arinem.”
“I’m only telling you what they told me,” Emmeric said, defending himself.
“No, no, it makes sense. It’s totally something Uther would do.” Talon paused. “Does Zane know? About his father’s plans?”
Emmeric shook his head. “Altair doesn’t seem to think so. He said all the plotting they’ve been able to see has been away from Zane.”
Talon exhaled, nodding. “Listen, we tell nobody about this,” he said. “But I really should get to bed. I’m sharing a room with Zane, and I don’t want him getting suspicious.” Emmeric raised his brow, feeling talked out. “Not like that, you jerk. They only had two rooms, and he intimidates the twins. Plus, he had a decidedly female barmaid up there not an hour ago.”
Talon left after another long, tight hug. Once he was gone, Emmeric downed the rest of his drink.
Zane
Zane was dozing when he heard the snick of the door closing. He shot up, grabbing the dagger he’d kept under his pillow, only to find the intruder was Talon. Right. He wasn’t used to sharing a room. Talon stared at him with a brow raised, and his blue eyes flicked down. Only briefly, but Zane caught it. And that was when he realized he was still naked.
“Sorry,” Zane said, trying to cover himself.
Talon waved him off. “Don’t worry about me. I just didn’t realize you sleep in the nude.”
“I don’t usually…” said Zane, finding his breeches and scrambling to put them on. Scanning the floor, his traitorous shirt was nowhere to be found.
“I also didn’t realize you were this…fit. I took you for more of a bookworm.”
Zane couldn’t tell if he was insulting him. “I lead you on raids, do I not?” he asked sharply.
“You do,” Talon placated. “But, this”—he gestured at Zane’s body—“is more than your mandatory training lessons.”
Zane shrugged. “I do more in my chambers when I don’t want to run into anybody. And if people find me bookish, I’m fine with that.”
“Nothing wrong with books,” Talon agreed. The redhead began tying up his hair into a bun and undressing for bed. Zane averted his gaze. Talon chuckled. “You may not sleep nude, but I do. I’ll leave my undershorts on though. For you.” Zane turned back, catching him winking mischievously. Zane couldn’t help but notice Talon was also…what word did he use? Fit. There was an intricate blue tattoo taking up his entire left arm—it appeared to be a dragon. Its head started at his shoulder and the body snaked its way down and around his arm, finally ending with its tail on his hand. The dragon’s mouth was open in a roar. Talon sat on the bed with a smirk.
“Oh, by the way,” Talon said, “one of your personal guards, Emmeric, missed the wagon after the raid. Guess the blast knocked him out, but he’s here, on his way home. I just ran into him in the hallway. I figure he can join up?” Try as he might, Zane could not place Emmeric. “You have no idea who that is, do you?” Talon asked, grinning.
Embarrassed, Zane shook his head. “Sorry,” he said, again. “I didn’t remember any of your names until today. I feel like an ass.”
“You’re not an ass,” Talon said brightly. And it was Zane’s turn to raise his eyebrow. “You, a crown prince, have apologized to me, a lowly guard, twice in only a handful of minutes. That’s not something an ass would do.” Until Talon had spoken the words out loud, Zane hadn’t realized how much he’d needed somebody to see him as a person. Not as what he represented, not as an extension of his father… It felt amazing.
Talon lay back in his bed, blowing out the candle near him. Zane did the same. He thought it was the end of their conversation, but Talon quietly said, “Zane?”
“Yeah?” And, oh, he could get used to people calling him by only his first name.
“Are you lonely?” Talon asked, softly.
“What?” Zane jerked his head towards the shadowy figure laying on the bed not five feet from him—nobody had ever asked him this before. Nobody had cared enough.
“Are you lonely?” he repeated.
Zane thought on it for a second. “I prefer being by myself.”
“Sure, but that’s not what I asked. Do you have someone you can talk to? Someone you trust implicitly?”
He used to. And look where that got him. But instead of voicing that aloud, he said, “No.”
There was a long pause. Zane felt like he was holding his breath, waiting for Talon to respond. He didn’t know what he wanted him to say, or if he wanted to him to say anything at all. So quietly he could barely hear him, Talon said, “You can talk to me.”
Zane fell asleep with those five comforting words circling in his head.