Vana laughs brokenly too and blindly drags Daromir closer. “You beautiful fool,” Vana says against Daromir’s lips. “You’re more perfect than anything. You’re better than perfect. You’remine.”
Orgasm hits them like a hurricane. Daromir doesn’t know whose and doesn’t care.
***
The social library is quiet today. The scalestone chandelier still hangs overhead, and Daromir wonders morbidly where the previous bone chandelier is being stored right now. The remains should be interred respectfully, but Daromir has a feeling they’re gathering dust in a storage cupboard.
Across the library, Vana is discussing a section of books with Lady Naoko. Mori follows them carefully. The hapless diary-assistant has only collided with one bookshelf so far, which might be a record. Osric the fellcat stopped following them a while ago, lounging on a square patch of carpet.
Vana and Naoko haven’t spoken of yesterday’s execution, as far as Daromir has heard. They’re speakingaroundit with some sort of understanding. Daromir heard Naoko’s words to Vana at the Dais of Judgment.You’re a good man, Your Highness. Daromir can’t disagree with her assessment, though Vana likely does.
For once, Daromir doesn’t envy Naoko for her time with Vana. How can he, when his soul still sings with everything they shared last night? Every part of Daromir’s body aches faintly with his own pains and Vana’s alike. Daromir has never before spent a night on top and felt it in his own ass the next morning. He could easily become addicted to the experience. Knowing exactly what Vana is feeling across the room is the most delicious secret. Vana’s court attire and polite smile give no sign that he aches with the memory of Daromir’s touch.
Only Daromir gets to share that with him.
Nobody else is in the library today, with even the drasgard waiting outside. Daromir remains alert regardless, because it’s his duty and because the illusionist still hasn’t been found.
Osric stretches up, massive paws flexing against the carpet, and wanders the edges of the library. His route seems random at first, but the back of Daromir’s neck prickles with the fellcat’s attention. Daromir isn’t surprised when Osric jumps onto a lounging sofa next to him.
The sofa creaks in protest. Osric pays it no mind as he begins grooming his paws with his great, raspy tongue.
I’m here to redeem the favor you owe me,Osric says without preamble.
“Hello to you too,” Daromir says under his breath. Vana, Naoko, and Mori are far away enough not to hear, as long as he’s quiet. “Remember, I promised areasonablefavor.”
You said ‘within reason.’ There is a difference in nuance.Osric’s tail flicks against the upholstery.Don’t worry. It’s a simple request. I want information.
“What kind of information?” Daromir asks.
I have two questions, and I want two answers.
“Sure. But only two.”
Osric looks as sly as a fellcat can look.First: is Prince Vana your mate?
Daromir nearly chokes on his own tongue.
“Didn’t take you for a gossip,” Daromir deflects, trying to buy himself time. Fuck. Vana wanted them to stay discreet—but that was assuming people wouldn’t ask directly, because why would anyone suspect? Maybe Daromir should deny it. But everything in him rebels against that denial. And hedoesowe Osric a favor. “That isn’t exactly how humans usually describe it, but yes.”
Congratulations,Osric says, as if remarking boredly on the weather.Next question—besides Prince Vana, who in House Dire is trustworthy?
Daromir considers. “Does it have to be a member of House Dire?”
I speak telepathically. It’s very difficult to stutter.
Daromir has to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing. “Sorry, sorry. Let me think.”
There are a few cousins who seem decent enough, from a distance. Daromir doesn’t know them well, since he’s never actually spoken to them. They treat him like walking furniture at Vana’s side. They’ve all married into other houses, though, severing them from the line of succession to keep Imrik’s legacy less complicated. Daromir doesn’t think Osric is interested in distant, married-off cousins. Among the limited remaining choices, the answer is obvious.
“Marek,” Daromir says. “Prince Marek is a good man.”
Osric’s tale flicks.I haven’t met this Marek. Isn’t he Prince Vana’s rival for the throne?
“All right, fluffy, that’s a bit more information than I think I owe you.”
Fluffy? I could rip your face off.
Daromir likes Osric more and more every day. They could be great friends, if Osric wasn’t heading back to Fellrin soon. “Please don’t. That would be very messy.” Daromir shrugs. “Seriously, I don’t always agree with Marek, but he’s fair and honorable. A little hotheaded, but honorable.”
