Thenextmorning,Taeganrose early but found himself alone when he woke. The empty room startled him at first, for he could still sense the presence of Zorvut in the back of his head, making him feel as though he were being watched despite his solitude. He could not pinpoint where Zorvut was from the faint awareness of him in his head, but certainly he was still somewhere in the castle.
He knew that there would be a second celebration in the orc encampment this evening, but until then, his day was largely free. Perhaps, he thought, it would be best if Zorvut did not wander about the castle unattended.
The door opened shortly after he got out of bed, but it was his attendant.
“My prince,” Aerik said, his tone as even as ever, as he extended a pitcher of fresh water. “I’ll help you dress.”
“Were you waiting outside?” Taegan asked, raising an eyebrow. Aerik hesitated, as if considering what to say.
“Your husband asked me to remain nearby when he left for the morning,” he finally replied. “He requested that I maintain my usual duties, and help you dress.”
Taegan was a bit surprised at that—while he had not expected his personal servants to cease their duties, it was unexpectedly thoughtful for Zorvut to request they continue. He had not considered the change in their routine that his presence might cause.
“Of course,” he acknowledged. He proceeded to freshen up and dress for the day, Aerik brushing his hair and fastening his cloak for him. It was a mild spring day, though a slight chill still lingered in the morning air.
Taegan made his way down to the dining hall, leaving Aerik to tidy up his quarters. Halfway there, he passed the library, and paused for a moment. The door was closed, but he was tempted to step inside, just to see if Kelvhan might be on duty—but no, he told himself, to do so would be inappropriate. He kept walking.
“Taegan,” a voice called from the corridor behind him. As if his thoughts had summoned him, Taegan turned to see Kelvhan standing halfway between the hall and the corridor, beckoning him over. They were alone, but Taegan still hesitated before joining him in the darkened passageway, one they had used as a secret meeting place many times over.
“You’re all right?” Kelvhan asked in a quiet voice. Taegan scowled.
“Of course I’m all right,” he replied. “Kelvhan, this is... untoward.”
“There is nothing untoward about our relationship,” Kelvhan pressed, stepping closer to him. “My only regret is that I did not insist your father call this off before it was too late.”
“You have no claim to me,” he retorted, struggling to keep his tone even. This was already difficult enough; did Kelvhan really not realize how much harder he was making everything?
“I have more claim to you than some orc you just met,” Kelvhan snapped, and grabbed Taegan’s wrists. “Listen. I know it’s too late to change matters now. But our relationship was already a secret. Why must we end things now? Why can’t it juststaysecret?”
For one wild, fleeting moment, Taegan wanted to agree, wanted to lean into Kelvhan’s familiar embrace. It was not the thought of Zorvut that made him pull away, but the thought of the peace treaty his father had fought so hard for falling apart, the thought of all this struggle being in vain, that centered him as he closed his eyes and firmly pulled his wrists out of Kelvhan’s grasp.
“I have an obligation to him. I’m sorry,” he said softly, unable to meet the other man’s gaze. He could hear Kelvhan sigh and take a step back.
“I don’t understand,” he said, and there was a genuine ring of despair in his voice.
“My duty outweighs my wants,” Taegan insisted, then slowly added, “And... Well, I don’t know if this is normal. But our bond seems rather... strong, already. I’m sure he could sense if anything happened.” He stopped himself from adding that he suspected Zorvut could even sense his own unsettled emotions now.
Kelvhan scowled at that, but looked away in frustrated acceptance. After all, Taegan figured, it would be difficult to argue with ancient bonding magic.
“Fine,” he relented, turning his back to Taegan. “If that’s truly how you feel… I won’t bother you again.” With that, he walked further down the corridor—before he could be tempted to follow, Taegan turned around and strode back to the open hallway, hurrying past the library. He did not even turn to look and see if Kelvhan might have followed him until he was halfway to the dining hall, but luckily, when he did finally look, he was alone.
Entering the dining hall, he breathed a sigh of relief, only to feel his chest tighten up again when he saw Zorvut sitting alone at one of the end tables. The dining hall was empty save for him, and he did not look up when Taegan entered. He wore plainclothes now—a loose cream-colored tunic and dark brown breeches, his hair loose and pushed to one side. He made a mental note to have the tailor come and fashion him a more suitable wardrobe.
Steadying himself with a deep breath, Taegan stepped over to his table.
“My husband,” he said, and Zorvut’s head snapped up, startled. “Your place is at the royal table.” Zorvut blinked, then slowly stood.
“Of course,” he replied, and Taegan held out his hand. He could feel Zorvut hesitate, and he tried to project calmness through their bond, though he was sure his own trepidation came through more strongly. After a moment, Zorvut gingerly took his hand—his thumb and first two fingers were as much as Taegan could easily grasp—and allowed himself to be led to the head table, which now had three place settings.
“Have you eaten already?” he asked as they sat down.
“Some bread,” Zorvut replied. “We are early, so nothing was set out yet.”
“Notthatearly,” Taegan sighed, and gave two sharp claps of his hands. Almost immediately, a servant came scurrying out from the kitchen.
“My prince,” he said, lowering his head in a brief bow.
“Can you bring breakfast out quickly?” Taegan asked, in the firm tone he used to ensure they did not take his question as a request, but an order. “My husband should not be kept waiting.” The servant opened his mouth to reply, but seemed to trip over his own words before stammering out,
