Chapter Eight
He didn’t fall asleep until dawn was breaking across the stars.
“Your Divinity.”
The voice, calm but firm, woke Ethyr from sound sleep. Sitting up groggily, he looked at Gionan laying new garments across the end of his bed.
“It is past noon, you must wash and eat and prepare for tonight.”
Ethyr tousled his hair, looking out at the bright sky. “Did the other kings have to stay up all night, too?”
“Yes. The gods are busy during the day.”
“Busy?” Ethyr furrowed his brow. “Doing what?”
Gionan pulled at his arm and Ethyr reluctantly let the man drag him from the bed.
“Answering prayers and keeping the kingdom safe, of course.”
That didn’t really answer his question, but Ethyr wondered if Gionan even knew.
Could a mortal understand the ways a god worked?
He followed the man from the bedroom to the dining room to eat breakfast. Or dinner, maybe.
He didn’t know how to keep track of it anymore.
It was the usual breakfast fare, but well past any normal breakfast time.
Then he was washed, thoroughly, and brought back to his room to dress in yet another new outfit.
At that point, his wardrobe could clothe his entire village.
This one was a soft blue tunic that, instead of being translucent and body-tight, had a loose draping neck and open sides, and was tied around his waist with strips of fabric that left his midriff exposed.
Though it wouldn’t have mattered even if it went all the way to his hips, because the open sides showed off plenty of his torso on their own.
He was starting to wonder why they put tunics on him at all if they did nothing to cover him.
His pants were tied under his knees, like the previous pair he wore for the gods, but were red instead of gold and didn’t have open sides. Maybe that was why his shirt did; having no open sides in his clothing was apparently unfathomable.
Another belt of gold rings, though these rings were significantly smaller, with little stars and moons made of silver dangling intermittently from them.
When hooked loosely around his waist, one end of the rope-like metal was left hanging halfway down his thigh.
His wrists and ankle were once again adorned with gold bangles.
To his great dismay, this outfit came with gold slippers.
No cosmetics, though, when Ethyr told Gionan what the gods had said.
He seemed skeptical, but took Ethyr’s word.
It was him who’d have to face the consequences if he was lying, anyway.
Poyut was standing dutifully by the carriage, and she held out her hand to help Ethyr inside. He looked at her as he stepped up, trying to convey a silent apology, but she didn’t meet his gaze.
He stared miserably out the window as the carriage ascended the mountain, since it was better than staring miserably at the old priest. This time the crowd greeting them was significantly smaller, only a few of the older priests in robes.
Ethyr was brought once again to the room, dishes were laid onto the altar table, and he was given white petals to eat.
When everyone was gone and it was quiet, he let out a heavy sigh and looked around.
Tonight’s offering was dismal compared to the previous one.
Ethyr caught himself in surprise and shame at the thought.
The amount and quality of food on the table was better than any meal he’d had in his life up until all this.
It was just that, in comparison to the sea of food the gods were offered before, it seemed like an insult in itself.
Was that Yorith’s plan? Would the gods be offended by the offering and take it out on him?
He swallowed, gripping his pants and forcing his knee to stop bouncing.
They hadn’t seemed likely to offend easily, but Ethyr couldn’t possibly claim to know their moods and whims after spending one night with them.
He wanted to see how the dreary room transitioned into the grand opulence of the previous night, but the same fatigue fell over him and he couldn’t keep his eyes open. Light opened them again to a room of comfortable luxury.
“Ooh, he’s back,” Gallus said, delighted.
Leaving his goblet of wine on the table, he took Ethyr’s hands and pulled him to his feet before spinning around in a few dizzying circles, laughing.
His laughter was boisterous and musical, and once Ethyr got his feet under him, he couldn’t help but laugh a little too.
Gallus slowed to plant a hard kiss on Ethyr’s mouth. “Welcome back.”
“Gallus, bring him here,” Varuut called from the table. He dropped one of Ethyr’s hands, squeezing the other tighter to pull him over.
Catocus and Langath were sitting by the wall, examining a game board on the floor between them. Ithna lounged on a nearby seat, arm tossed elegantly over the high side as she watched the game unfold.
What surprised Ethyr most was the sight of Kiaro, whose disinterest had been clear enough the previous night.
He sat facing the room, elbows on his knees as he turned over an interlocking puzzle like ones Ethyr had often played with at festivals.
All of the gods were stunningly gorgeous in their own ways, but Kiaro was heart-stopping.
The cut of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the slope of his nose.
He wasn’t beautiful like a person, but like a force of nature.
His dark eyes rose to meet Ethyr’s and Ethyr whipped his gaze away, staring hard at the table instead.
He settled next to Varuut, Gallus falling beside him and leaning against his shoulder. Varuut combed Ethyr’s hair back with her fingers and tucked a pink blossom behind his ear.
“How precious the flowers seem,” she said airily, “when I know you walk among them.” He blinked up at her and she smiled adoringly, kissing his nose.
“A line from a poem that a mortal once made for me.” Her smile faded with a sigh.
“I cannot show my face to the mortal world anymore, for at least one always becomes infatuated.”
“It is not as though you dissuade them,” Gnaeus said, not looking up from the strip of threads she was weaving.
“Oh, I cannot help it,” Varuut replied ruefully, hugging Ethyr and resting her head against his. “They are so easy to love.”
Ainder, sitting on the other side of the table, clicked his tongue. “You mean they’re easy to persuade into loving you.” He popped a berry into his mouth.
“I hope so,” Varuut murmured, grazing her knuckles along Ethyr’s jaw.
“I thought I had imagined his beauty,” Gallus said, running his fingertips softly across Ethyr’s bare chest and making him shiver. “But he is even better than I remember.”
“Come on, Gallus, give us a show,” Ainder egged.
“He’s only just gotten here,” Gnaeus rebuked. “Give him a few minutes to settle, why don’t you?”
“You never let me have fun,” Ainder whined.
“You had plenty of fun with Verusias,” Langath told him.
“That’s not the same,” he complained. “He was already trained. At least let me test his skill.”
The other gods looked between themselves in some sort of silent debate before their attention returned to Ethyr.
Gnaeus lifted a goblet off the table, offering it to him. “You’d better have a drink first.”
He took it, a little confused and worried, but drank it.
Ainder moved to sit on one of the seats along the wall and beckoned with a hand. “Ethyr.”
He looked around. All the gods’ gazes were still on him, and his face burned. Even Kiaro watched, though he was leaning disinterestedly back in his seat, arms crossed.
He got up and went to Ainder’s side, heart fluttering.
“On your knees,” Ainder instructed.
Ethyr obeyed nervously, getting a better idea of where this was headed. Mikel was the only one he’d ever pleasured, and he had a feeling Mikel’s standards were much lower than a god’s.
“Have you sucked a man off before?”
Ethyr tensed, appalled at the vulgar bluntness. But Ainder only looked down at him curiously. He swallowed and nodded.
The god’s eyebrows rose, surprised or impressed Ethyr couldn’t tell. He settled back comfortably against the wall, a small smile on his lips. “Show me.”
Ethyr exhaled quietly, steeling himself. The fact that others were watching made his stomach twist in trepidation; it added more pressure to an expectation he already doubted he could reach.
He slid a hand up Ainder’s firm thigh, heart beating faster the higher he got.
When he reached the top he shakily dipped his fingers under the fabric between Ainder’s legs.
He was already hard, so at least Ethyr didn’t have to worry about that.
He brushed his fingers up the shaft. Ainder sank back a little more.
Aside from the stiffness of his cock, he seemed unaffected, watching with only mild interest.
Ethyr took hold of him. He went slow, stalling.
“You should know I don’t appreciate caution,” Ainder reprimanded. Ethyr's shoulders raised.
He shuffled closer and Ainder opened his legs to make room for him.
Ethyr delicately drew aside the fabric to reveal his erection in its full, gently curved glory.
The back of his neck pricked. He kept hold of the base as he applied his mouth to the top, sucking.
Ainder’s breath sounded pleased, which reassured him a little.
Despite it not being as big as he’d thought it would be, he couldn’t get the whole thing in his mouth. He went as far as he could anyway, using his hand to make up the rest.
“Well?” Catocus asked cavalierly. “How is he?”
“Not bad,” Ainder said. His voice was clear and controlled, without a hint of his dick being in someone’s mouth. “A little sloppy and simple.”
Ethyr bristled, not even sure why he was offended. But Ainder’s next sentence was directed to him.
“Don’t only rub up and down.” Ethyr startled at the sudden instruction. He pulled back, looking up at the god. “Twist your hand a little too, not gripping it, just for the sensation.” Ethyr stared. Ainder gestured for him to continue. He awkwardly returned to the member, following his instructions.