Brannal’s smile turned more genuine, and he said, “But yes, I wouldlove a tour.”
So Perian took Brannal on an actual tour of the house, and if Brannal decided to institute a “we should kiss in every room of your house” rule, well, Perian would be rude to reject it, wouldn’t he?
A few of the kisses got quite heated, but the rule actually worked pretty well to keep Perian moving forward, because he knew he would get another kiss in the next room. Brannal seemed to be having fun coming up with different ways to do it, using different pieces of furniture or pushing Perian up against the wall, or tugging him down to the rug by the fire. He was definitely invested.
Even with the kissing, the tour was over much more quickly than the one of the castle had been. The house was a decent size, certainly more than Perian needed for just himself, but it was epically dwarfed by the castle where Brannal had spent so much of his life.
But at the end of the tour, he smiled widely at Perian.
“It’s lovely! Not so large that you get lost in it, but not so small that you don’t have room to move around.”
Perian nodded.
“Your father had excellent taste.”
Perian smiled softly. “Yes, Father always knew what he wanted, and he had the money to get it.”
“And he put up cottages where the main staff stay,” Brannal said.
Perian nodded again. “I presume, now, that it was to make sure I didn’t accidentally feed from anyone.”
Brannal reached out and twined their fingers together. “Or perhaps he simply enjoyed his privacy.”
“He must have known the truth,” Perian said. “Bringing me to the house of pleasure like he did when I was old enough, telling me I always had a choice about what I did and when I did it, and maybe I would find that I liked to watch as much as participate. But why didn’t hetell me the full truth!”
It would be an eternal frustration.
“Perhaps he meant to,” Brannal said gently. “Perhaps, like me, he was trying to protect you—and then the chance was taken away from him before he could realize the error of his ways.”
Perian had been about to protest until Brannal had finished.
“Nice save,” he said reluctantly.
Brannal smiled at him, affection and ruefulness both in his expression.
“I can see where he was coming from, and I can also see the damage it did. I don’t believe for a moment that it was deliberate. I imagine he thought he would have a lot more time.”
Perian nodded, because that was probably true. “I suppose I was only eighteen. He no doubt still saw me as a child.”
“When did he take you into the city?”
“I was about sixteen.”
“And before then, you wouldn’t have exhibited any evidence of being a carnalion, would you? He may not have been certain before then.”
As he thought about that, Perian had to concede the truth. He’d thought of it like eighteen years of withholding the truth, but maybe it hadn’t been that simple.
“He could have told me sooner. He could have raised me knowing the truth,” he objected.
“Could he?” Brannal asked. “Really? Our society being what it is?”
What would it have been like, raised knowing that you were something that everyone in the country hated and feared?
Perian huffed. “I can’t be happy about being lied to. But I suppose if hehadtold me, there’s a chance I would never have risked going into the city again. I might never have met you, and that would have been a terrible shame.”
Brannal leaned in to kiss him.
“It most certainly would have been, though I’m truly sorry for everything you’ve been throughsincewe met,” he admitted. “I know it hasn’t been ideal.”
