“Babysitting ambassadors isn’t usually your purview,” Daromir says.
Vana fits perfectly under Daromir’s arm. “Not usually. But if His Majesty needs a prince to politely entertain someone, who else would he pick? Marek or Kazia?”
Daromir considers. “I’d pay good money to see Kazia try it.”
Vana rests his head against Daromir’s shoulder. His hair tickles Daromir’s neck, and at last, Daromir fully relaxes. The strain of being constantly alert outside eases. Vana’s here under Daromir’s arm. He’s safe. Daromir isn’t sure which of them needs this more. Simple touch, grounding each other in security and friendship. Except—
“You’re still too tense,” Daromir says. “Is something wrong?”
Sighing, Vana pulls his leg up on the sofa, heedless of the fact that he’s still wearing his boots. “I was just thinking, aren’t we getting a little old for this?”
“What? Cuddling?” Daromir asks, and Vana makes an adorable, annoyed sound. Daromir loves that he’s the only one who gets to see Vana so undignified. “If you want me to let go, you know I’ll let go.”
Vana’s hand twists in Daromir’s shirt in what might be a subconscious movement. “I didn’t say that.”
“Good. Now, stay quiet and let me play with your hair.”
Vana stays quiet as asked, while Daromir unfastens his braid and strokes his hair loose. He’s done this countless times before, and it’s easy even with his arm pinned under Vana. Daromir just has to pull Vana a little closer, until he’s half-sitting in Daromir’s lap, so it’s easier to pet the long, rippling strands.
Sometimes, Daromir imagines wrapping a scarf around Vana’s eyes. Not because he wants to hide them. Just like hooding a hawk to keep it calm. Maybe if Vana wasn’t constantly looking around the world, he would settle down more easily. And Daromir would be right there, touching him, so he wouldn’t be lost.
Finally, Vana melts.
They spend every moment out in public separated by a careful distance. Courtiers remark on how they’re always together. How they’re always so close. Rarely seen one without the other. Daromir doesn’t understand it. Can’t these idiots see that he isn’t close enough to Vana? That every inch of space between them is an inch too far?
Daromir only feels at peace when he’s here, with Vana’s hand in his, breathing the same air. So he knows Vana is safe and protected.
But keeping Vana safe has grown more and more difficult. The outside threats are bad enough, but Daromir worries more about the darkness creeping into Vana’s heart. The stress. How long it takes Vana to relax in his arms.
Daromir is sworn to protect Vana, and that’s getting harder when this entire fucking country—the very scalestone-tainted air—is a threat. That’s why Daromir needs a day off next week. Why he’s doing something he’s never done to Vana before.
He’s keeping a secret.
?
CHAPTER THREE
Vana
No sunlight filters into Vana’s bedroom. Heavy curtains obscure the windows and balcony. Light rouses him after dawn regardless: soft lanterns from Daromir’s side. Painted wooden screens divide the room with a rainbow of birds flying in delicate brushstrokes. Vana’s bed and wardrobes are on this side, Daromir’s on the other.
In Kaiskara, noble houses are built with double bedrooms. Bloodguards sleep in the smaller chambers outside their wards’ rooms. Vana can’t change the Opal Tower that much, but he remodeled his haven estate of Sabora into a similar layout. Vana has never admitted, not even to Daromir, how much he regrets the remodel.
This is the only benefit to staying in Ostomar. Instead of an entire solid door between them overnight, there are only thin screens. The slightest change in Vana’s breath will have Daromir awake and at his side.
It’s been years since nightmares drove either of them to the other’s bedside. The closeness is still comforting.
Today, as he has every morning in Ostomar, Vana wakes to lantern light and Daromir’s quiet movements. Daromir always rises first. He’s a morning person. Vana used to think the habit was due to training or duty. But no, that’s just who Daromir is. Infuriatingly, bafflingly alert by dawn.
Vana, meanwhile, lingers and listens from his soft bed. The ornate carved ceiling beams curve like ribs above him. When Daromir begins his third pass through his stretching routine, Vana knows it’s time to get up.
Still half-asleep, he shrugs a robe over his bare shoulders and rakes his long hair out of his face. He edges around the screen, then leans against the wall.
Daromir’s bed is on the wall opposite Vana, and a woven rug covers most of the floor. Daromir stretches out on it now, bent over his extended leg. He’s clad only in loose trousers, barefoot and bare-chested. Light gilds every curve of his muscular shoulders.
Anybody would stare at Daromir like this. He’s surely the most attractive man in Draskora. The most attractive man in all of Alantha, probably. It would be unreasonablenotto watch him, Vana justifies.
Watching Daromir usually settles Vana. Except now, Vana can’t help wondering why Daromir wants a day off so soon after their arrival. Is he meeting someone in Ostomar City? A friend or lover? Someone Vana knows, or someone he doesn’t?
