Chapter Eighteen
Trill
One of the things that Trill hadn’t quite anticipated about having a relationship with Molun and Arvus was the growing amount of non-sexual activities they engaged in.
Trill loved the sex, and he would always be happy to do that.
He loved all the sex-adjacent activities like cuddling or sleeping together—or climbing on Molun’s lap so they could both try to read.
But he also really liked the fact that Molun and Arvus wanted to have dinner with him in the dining hall—and take him places.
Remembering that this was his first visit to Royal City, they did indeed start taking him to some of their favorite places, more than simply dancing, though they certainly did that.
They’d been through all the best bakeries, although Trill still thought the castle cooks did an amazing job.
They walked through parks, and they visited clothing stores and bookstores and little shops with knickknacks.
Trill admired a blanket, and it appeared on their bed.
He admired the painting above the fireplace, and suddenly they were in a gallery, shopping for more art.
Although they spent a lot of time in one another’s laps, a third armchair appeared in the sitting room, a match for the first two.
They were also spending a bit more time in pairs, everyone having the chance to connect one-on-one.
There was even some making out one-on-one, too, though they didn’t go too far.
Trill loved all of it. He loved being included, and he also wanted to make certain that their relationship was maintained and got everything it needed.
They almost always had dinner in the dining hall now, which was an interesting experience. If it hadn’t been full of Mage Warriors and Warriors, it would have been a great place to pull a little more energy from, because wow, there was a lot of attraction and flirting.
But it was literally a room full of people who would try to kill him if they suspected what he was, so Trill focused on being as human as possible.
He listened a lot, talking and laughing and grateful to be involved.
He enjoyed spending time with Molun, Arvus, Livala, Tramon, and Cormal.
According to Molun, although Cormal had almost always come to the dining hall, before Livala, he’d often sat there, ate his meal, and left without saying anything.
Now, he was sure always to engage her in conversation, to make sure that she felt included and supported.
No matter what had happened before, he had very obviously taken her under his wing.
They hadn’t even tried to keep her parentage a secret. Any of the Mage Warriors and Warriors who’d been here when Cormal’s father had been alive would apparently recognize him in Tramon.
It wasn’t nearly as obvious with Trill, and Cormal had tugged him aside the second night and offered to not tell anyone if that was what Trill preferred. But Cormal must have seen what Trill thought of that idea.
“It’s not about you,” Cormal assured him. “You might not prefer to be related to me or my father. But if you don’t mind, I’m happy to acknowledge the connection. Truly.”
“My father isn’t a bad father,” Trill told him after a moment. “But he’s not very… parental. I don’t see him very often. I didn’t think I had any other family. The one I did have didn’t like me very much. I’d, uh, really like to be a part of this family.”
Cormal’s eyes went sad, and he squeezed Trill’s shoulder. “I’m sorry that happened to you. I am… not unfamiliar with not being able to live up to a parent’s expectations. You don’t have to worry about that here. I want you to be your own person.”
The fact they’d all shown up at the same time was a weird coincidence, but most people seemed to just accept that the world was a weird place sometimes.
(It really was!) Trill felt thrilled to be accepted…
as well as aware that the acceptance was conditional on the secret that he was keeping.
There was a small part of him that wanted to reveal all, but Yannoma had drummed enough sense into him that he buried that voice.
He remembered what had happened with his grandmother.
Not that she had ever thought that much of him, but she was also family.
She’d known him for his entire childhood, and she’d still been horrified when she’d learned what he was.
She might not have killed him outright, but if his father hadn’t arrived when he had—
Trill couldn’t forget that; it was the voice of reason that popped up any time he thought that maybe, just maybe, with these people…
They were Mage Warriors. It didn’t matter if they cared about him. He couldn’t forget that. If he couldn’t live the lie, then he could leave or tell the truth after Molun was healed. He wouldn’t mess with that. It was too important.
He got a letter back from Yannoma. She was, as he’d expected, somewhat horrified by his choices, and she made clear in no uncertain terms that if he thought that she would surround herself with Mage Warriors, he was out of his mind.
This had been the answer Trill had thought most likely, but it wasn’t what he’d been hoping for. He’d really wanted Yannoma to see the Prince.
“Does the Prince go out much?” Trill asked one evening when they were reading by the fire. He hoped this sounded like an innocent question.
“Almost never,” Molun answered, looking up from his book. “We’re not exactly advertising what’s happened to him. He can’t be harmed, of course, but people go right through him. He can’t pick things up, can’t open doors, can’t actually do most of the things that you’d do outside the castle.”
Trill wasn’t sure at all about the couldn’t be harmed part of it, but he couldn’t come up with a reasonable way to share his concerns. There was a chance he was wrong.
Maybe he could ask Yannoma if she would be willing to see just the Prince?
And then if she said yes, he could ask the Prince to come with him?
But no, he couldn’t have the Prince go alone—even if he were willing—not when he suspected that he was a snack just waiting to be devoured by every demon that caught a whiff of all that free energy.
They were lucky the castle was so well protected with so many Mage Warriors and so many elements.
The moat kept out the wraiths, which were definitely the worst. There was enough dirt around and most people wore talismans, so it wasn’t worth the effort for the nightmares to try to breach it.
The carnalions were smart enough to stay away.
Trill sighed. Maybe he could go back to see her? If she was fond of anyone, she was fond of him. If he were there in person, if he could wheedle, then maybe he could get her to help? But that was assuming he could describe everything well enough.
And all of that was assuming this was something a carnalion might know. Every day that Molun and Arvus and the rest of the Mage Warriors didn’t find anything of use, he could see how much it disappointed them. Trill knew more than them in one respect, but it didn’t help solve the issue at all.
“What was that sigh for?”
Trill blinked, looked up. He hadn’t even realized he’d made a sound. “Nothing.”
“It didn’t sound like nothing.” Molun’s expression turned arch. “Or was it a shameless ploy for attention? Do you need attention?”
Trill couldn’t help but laugh, in large part because Molun seemed so delighted by this prospect, which he took to mean that Molun wanted attention. Trill was very happy to offer it. Arvus had already shut his book.
“I definitely need attention,” Trill told Molun with a smile. “So much attention. In fact, I’m not perfectly certain that the two of you can offer me as much attention as I need.”
Molun straightened abruptly. “Excuse me?”
Yeah, Trill was playing with fire here—so to speak—and he was absolutely certain that he was going to enjoy every single second of it.
Trill raised an eyebrow. “Did you not hear me?”
“Oh, it is on,” Molun told him.
Trill just looked at him as innocently as he could—which proved to be a mistake, because it meant that he didn’t notice Arvus until he had swooped in and grabbed him.
In a few long strides, he’d reached the bedroom and dropped Trill onto the bed.
Trill landed on his back and immediately spread out as wide as he could.
“Just what are you going to do about it?” he asked.
They got naked, first of all, which was always awesome, and then they got him naked, which was almost as good. They crawled onto the bed and covered him in kisses and bites and licks and touches—everywhere except his cock and ass, because they were torturing him with glorious skill.
“Enough attention yet?” Molun asked periodically, and Trill would shake his head, and they would run teasing fingers over the crease of his thigh, bite at the arch of his ankle, suck on his nipples.
Trill was soon a panting mess, but he denied every time that it was enough attention until Molun’s eyes were practically glowing, and Arvus was a mixture of thoroughly aroused and thoroughly amused.
Molun bit his lip. “I have an idea. It might be a bit wild.”
“I like wild ideas,” Trill assured him immediately.
“It’s definitely a lot of attention,” Molun continued.
“I like attention,” Trill reminded him.
“We’ve never even tried to do it with anyone else.”
“I’m not anyone else,” Trill pointed out promptly.
“You don’t have to say yes.”
“I probably will.”
Molun leaned over so that his mouth was a hairs-breadth from Trill’s ear.
“Would you like to take both of us? At the same time?”
Trill was confused for a moment—they’d done that a lot already—but after a second, he understood, and a shudder of pure want ran through him.
“Yes!” he said enthusiastically. “Yes, yes!”
Molun pulled back, and he was smiling, but he still looked a little bit cautious.
“Are you sure? I know I couldn’t do it, but I’m pretty sure you could.”
“Oh, I can, I can!” Trill assured him desperately.