Daromir’s grin widens. “Then you’ll just have to come with me.”
So Vana gets to follow Daromir from room to room on his usual route. It’s easier to restrain himself without direct, mesmerizing eye contact—because Daromir, as always, keeps his body between Vana and any possible threat.
Daromir is sworn to protect him, but he swore that oath to a boy who doesn’t exist anymore. However close they are, however deep their trust, Vana doesn’t dare attempt to get closer. He wouldn’t survive the rejection.
A drunken fantasy. That’s all this can be. When Vana wakes tomorrow, he’ll be grateful he didn’t indulge his foolish whim. He’ll laugh at himself. And Daromir will never know about his moment of insanity.
***
Vana wakes to a familiar presence and a milder hangover than he deserves. He cracks his eyes open, sees Daromir, then rolls over into his pillow. “I’m not awake yet.”
“Sorry,” Daromir says cheerfully. “Sit up and take this elixir.”
The hangover rolls inside Vana’s head. A full, prickly pressure and queasiness. It’s better than he expected. Mild enough that he can ride it out with another hour or two of sleep.
Far worse is the lingering embarrassment. Vana can’t believe he wanted to kiss Daromir last night. Absurd. Obscene. Daromir is his bloodguard. His closest friend. If Vana did anything to drive him away? That’s the problem. They’re bound for life. Vanacan’tdrive Daromir away.
“Set it on the table,” Vana says.
Daromir does so, but instead of leaving Vana to sleep, he flips the blankets down. “Sit up, you big baby. You had way more to drink than I realized. Your hangover is so bad I can feel it.”
Vana’s eyes crack open again. “Excuse me?”
“Like I said,” Daromir says, looking tired. “This elixir isn’t for you. It’s for me.”
Vana sits up, the movement churning in his stomach. He reaches for the small glass of pink liquid, which smells like raspberries. “That’s never happened before.”
Daromir shrugs. “Some of the guys back in Kaiskara talked about sharing hangovers if they were really bad. I don’t like indulging on the job, and you’ve always been pretty well behaved, so it hasn’t been an issue.”
Vana downs the elixir, grimacing against the too-sweet taste. The soothing effect is nearly immediate, first steadying his stomach, then easing his headache. “I truly didn’t drink that much last night, though.”
He’s had far worse hangovers without transferring them to Daromir.
Daromir frowns. “I should have paid more attention.”
Vana shakes his head as the last of the headache clears and swings his legs from under the blankets. “I’m sorry for subjecting you to the consequences. Did the elixir fix you too?”
Daromir stretches out, the muscles of his shoulders moving under his shirt. “All better. I’d let you get back to sleep, but Zuzana stopped by with a message from the king.”
Vana freezes. “What is it?”
“He wants an audience.” Daromir grimaces. “I have a feeling I’m in trouble.”
***
“That servant assaulted me in the palace, witnessed by representatives of more than seven noble Houses, a foreign dignitary, and His Highness Prince Vana himself.” Petir Bernek’s chest expands like a bellows. “I would like to register a formal complaint against Daromir Azri for the injuries done to me. I beseech Your Majesty for justice.”
No elixir, alas, can cure the headache that is Petir Bernek.
Vana stands in front of his father, hands behind his back, and Daromir as always at his side. For once, Daromir’s presence doesn’t reassure Vana—because he doesn’t fear for his own skin today.
Six feet away, Petir darts nervous glances towards them both. He’s far more hungover than Vana, his eyes nearly as red as his hair. Besides the king’s drasgard, the four of them are the only ones in the eerily lit room.
“What injuries are these?” King Imrik drawls from his throne.
“He assaulted me and used magic to horrifically freeze my neck,” Petir says. “It was an insult to my house and entirely inappropriate for a mere servant.”
Imrik leans on one elbow, his face even more impassive than the carved dragon soaring above him. “So we’ve all heard. I don’t see any horrific injuries, though. Are they hiding beneath your doublet?”
