Chapter Twenty-Four #2
“Calm down, Ithen,” he chastised, pushing the man’s hand so the sword slid back into its sheath and pressing a sweet kiss against his jaw. He turned to Ethyr with an amused eye roll. “King’s Guards, so excitable, aren’t they?”
Ethyr didn’t know what to say to that.
Verusias patted Ithen’s arm as he skirted past him, and Ethyr boldly stepped forward as well.
“I appreciate you having me—”
Verusias gripped his chin, startling him to silence, and the man turned his face, examining him with a quiet hum. “You don’t look like a Northerner.”
“I’m aware,” Ethyr replied coldly.
“Usually they are the ones moving down here. I’ve never heard of anyone from the south willingly going north.”
Ethyr, having recently learned that what he’d always believed to be his origins were a lie, said nothing, because he couldn’t explain it either.
“You’re prettier than me,” Verusias said, with the kind of annoyed resignation that came with an unpleasant but objective fact.
“Er… thank you.” Ethyr thought so too, but he wouldn’t say it. Not that Verusias was plain by any measure; he had perfect proportions and a lovely white smile. His short pants and long tunic of gauzy pink fabric left little to the imagination, revealing a nicely sculpted body as well.
“Hm.” Verusias gave him one last glance over, then let his face go and snapped his fingers. “Myra.” The attendant quickly stepped forward. “Have Herith prepare a full course meal for our guests. And heat up a bath to soak while we wait.”
She bowed and hurried off.
Verusias spread his arms with a smile and a teasing dip of his torso. “Welcome to my humble estate, Your Divinity.”
Well, it was a little late for a proper welcome, but Ethyr supposed he was happy to get one at all. “Thank you,” he said hesitantly. “And thank you for allowing me to stay here.”
“Of course! It is my pleasure to host you, Your Divinity.”
“Call me Ethyr,” he said. “I will call you Verusias.”
He lifted his head, smile undimmed. “Certainly, Ethyr. Would you like to see your quarters, maybe rest a little? You must be tired after your journey.”
“N–no, actually, I’m okay. But… if you could show my guards where they can sleep, I would appreciate it. They haven’t slept all night.”
“Eth—Your Divinity,” Poyut said quickly, casting a glance at Verusias. “I think it best I stay with you.”
Ethyr sighed. “I’ll be fine, Poyut. You need to rest.”
“He’ll be fine, Poyut,” Verusias repeated, and she straightened, doing an admirable job of keeping a neutral face and not eying him as Ethyr knew she wanted. “Ithen is annoyingly vigilant.”
Ethyr looked at the man standing where Verusias had left him. “Is he your King’s Guard?”
“Yes,” Verusias said affectionately, leaning his face into his hand dreamily. “Eighteen years dealing with me and it still didn’t deter him from fucking me when he finally could.”
“Verusias—” Ithen spoke up stiffly. “Please.”
The man glanced over his shoulder to raise his eyebrows at him. “Oh I’m sorry, are we rewriting history now, hm? Or should I say you were eager to fuck me so you could shut me up?”
Ithen sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.
“Come along.” Verusias took Ethyr’s hand and pulled him into the corridor. Two attendants were waiting in the hall, whom Verusias instructed to show Ethyr’s guards to their rooms, then he walked with Ethyr through the estate, Ithen a few steps behind.
Verusias didn’t release his hand, swinging it a little as they walked. For some reason the skin contact was comforting. “Sounds like you’re having a more exciting reign than I did.”
“Yeah,” Ethyr said, trying not to make it too bitingly sarcastic. “Exciting.”
“I was shocked when I found out the gods chose a peasant to succeed me. They must have really wanted to shake the status quo.”
Ethyr looked up at him, attention piqued. “Did you get that sense? When you were with them?”
“I don’t know,” Verusias sighed. “They said they try to stay out of mortal affairs, so it seemed rather contradictory.”
“All of them? Did you interact with all the gods, or just a few? Did they tell you why they chose you?” He was bursting with questions, now that the topic had been breached.
Here was the only person he’d ever met who could relate to his situation—as close as anyone could, anyway.
“How many times a month did they ask for you? Did you ever meet the king who was before you?”
Verusias glanced sidelong at him with an amused smirk and he closed his mouth.
“Usually all the gods.” Verusias shrugged. “I think they felt obligated to be there. And yes, Divine Kolius, I visited him a few times. He lives a little ways down the river from Mahyria.”
They left the hall through an open doorway, stepping into the vast landscape behind the building.
“Usually all the gods?” Ethyr prodded. “Were some missing sometimes?”
“Hmm… Catocus didn’t often stay around for longer than an hour or two.
Gnaeus and Ithna never seemed keen to be there either, but they rarely missed an offering.
Well, Kiaro—he was a rare sight. And when he did show up, he never said or did much of anything.
So not all of them, I suppose.” Verusias led Ethyr into the fruit trees. “Do you have a favorite fruit?”
“W-wait…” Ethyr shook his head. “Did the other gods… did they not…” He struggled to get the words out. He glanced at Ithen, trailing ambivalently behind them, and lowered his voice. “Did they want anything other than sex?”
“Hm?” Verusias plucked a fig and polished it against his hip.
“Of course. I played the lyre for them—and the flute. Those two are my expertise. Langath liked to play alongside me, the lute or fiddle. I served them drinks and food and talked about human affairs, they were interested in getting my perspective on such things. I played games with them… Langath got me interested in drawing.”
Ethyr was speechless. When Verusias noticed, he offered a reassuring smile.
“Well… you aren’t exactly educated in any of those things, are you?”
“I’m learning,” Ethyr mumbled. He spoke up again. “And Gallus? Varuut? Ainder?” It was a relief to speak about them with someone who knew them like he did, knew what it was like, even if it sounded like they had wildly different experiences.
“Oh, Ainder loved a good fuck,” Verusias laughed. “He was always egging me on, egging the others on… loved watching me fuck Gallus.”
“O-okay,” Ethyr shut the topic down, flushing hot and regretting bringing Ainder up.
“Gallus was more interested in dancing, but he found out quickly I wasn’t that good a dancer, even with a lifetime of lessons.” Verusias pulled a pear from a tree and offered it to Ethyr. He took it, since it was already picked and it seemed silly to waste. “What do they like doing with you?”
Ethyr looked away and took a giant bite of pear.
They meandered through the trees, Verusias proving a more talkative companion than Ethyr could have hoped.
He told Ethyr about growing up in the temple and his studies; how from the moment of initiation they were told it was the most devoted of them who would be chosen as king.
Verusias was completely self-assured that he deserved and had earned his place as king, studying and practicing from sun up to sun down and giving himself wholly—body, mind, and spirit—to veneration of the gods.
But it sounded like that was what most priests did, anyway.
“That’s why they all hate me,” Ethyr mumbled.
“Well, of course.” Verusias swallowed his last bite of fig and sucked juice from his thumb. “It’s a slap in the face for some peasant from the backlands, who probably barely knows the gods’ names, to be chosen over those who had devoted their whole lives to them.”
Ethyr might have been offended, but at that point he was resigned to the way everyone from the capital saw him. Even to Lyrian, that’s who he was: an uneducated, undeserving peasant. At least Verusias didn’t try to hide his opinion with false respect or flattery.
“I knew their names,” he defended half-heartedly. “We were told all the legends.”
“Master!” An attendant was calling from the edge of the fruit grove.
“Bath must be ready.” Verusias playfully smacked between Ethyr’s shoulders, making him almost choke on the bite of pear in his mouth. “Let’s hurry before it gets cold.”
Ethyr followed him back to the estate, winding through the corridors to a small, tiled room. Much like the palace washroom, it was filled with flowery-scented steam and a pool of milky water in the center.
“There’s no heat mechanism to keep it warm, like the palace has,” Verusias told him. “So it gets cold if you let it sit. It’s honestly been a nuisance.” An attendant pulled Verusias’s tunic off and untied his pants. Ethyr jerked away from the attendant who tugged at his own.
“I can undress myself,” he told them. They blinked at him, surprised, but stepped aside.
Ethyr hadn’t realized Verusias would be in the bath with him. He couldn’t believe he was put off by it—he’d bathed with others his whole life. Though the attendants standing by the wall, watching and waiting, was a little disconcerting now that Ethyr was used to dismissing them.
He undressed and slipped into the water, sighing as it set to work on muscles he hadn’t realized were sore from travel. Even with cushioned seats and manicured roads, it was stressful on the body. Verusias leaned back, spreading his arms over the edge.
“Now then. Tell me everything.”
“E-everything?” Ethyr asked uncertainly.
“Yes! Did you really kill Yorith, then elect Lyrian as advisor so you could fuck him?” Ethyr balked. “Ha! Certainly made me stop questioning why the gods chose you, if you were as crazy as that. You seem kind of normal, though, which is boring. Tell me you aren’t.”
“I am,” Ethyr said, and didn’t know why he sounded apologetic. “I wanted to ask you about that, actually. Did you know, when you were king, all the stuff about Lyrian and his father?”