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“I’m not saying anything I haven’t said to his face, and he knows it. He was out of line.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Drayce mumbled. “But he’s also right. I’m here to cover your ass. I can’t do that if I’m wasting ammo, panicking, and having you save me. I mean, you’re the Crown Prince of Erya. I’ve gotta pull my head outta my ass.”
Caelan snorted. “Well, you’re not wrong on either of those two counts, but I think you’re doing a pretty good job. I can’t say that we were expecting to be attacked by those…cats while tromping through the Ordas.”
“Yeah, I mean, when I was going through my training with Eno, we concentrated more on Empire soldiers and assassins.” A grin grew across Drayce’s lips. “I always imagined that I would save you from a gorgeous femme fatale assassin spy who had lipstick laced with poison. And when she tried to kiss you, I’d jump in the way so that she’d kiss me instead.”
A loud bark of laughter escaped Caelan. “There is so much wrong with that image, I don’t even know where to start.”
“Yeah, but then as I’m dying, you fall to your knees and hold me close, sobbing uncontrollably.” Drayce grabbed Caelan’s arms and rolled them so that he was now hovering over Caelan while his friend shook with laughter. “You’ll say that I was the best bodyguard you ever had. That no one will ever compare to me. You’ll declare the day of my death to be a national holiday. Drayce Ladon Day. Everyone will drink their weight in beer, and you’ll wear black to honor me for the rest of your life.”
Caelan tipped his head back and cackled, his fingers digging into one of Drayce’s arms. Caelan had the best fucking laugh. When he really let go, he threw his entire body into it and sounded so freaking free. Drayce chuckled, his hands braced on either side of Caelan’s shoulders, their legs tangled together. He stared at his friend, trying to ignore how his heart tripped over itself at that exquisite sound. He didn’t need to be aware of how good he felt in his arms.
They were best friends, and that was how it needed to stay. Always.
“You’re fucking ridiculous,” Caelan said as his chuckles slowed.
Drayce dipped his head lower until the tips of their noses nearly touched. “Yeah, but you know I’m right.”
Caelan’s breath caught in his throat, and Drayce froze. He shouldn’t have heard that, shouldn’t be noticing that Caelan’s pale-blue eyes had flared wider in the flickering camp light. Definitely didn’t need to be noticing the way Caelan’s plush lips were parted.
“You two are supposed to be sleeping.” Rayne’s irritated voice rang out loudly across the camp.
“Yes, Mommy!” Drayce called in a high-pitched falsetto that set them both laughing again, shattering the unexpected tension. Caelan shoved Drayce off him and rolled over to his side, while Drayce flopped on his pallet.
“You’re a freaking idiot,” Caelan murmured.
“But I’m not wrong.”
Caelan groaned, but it sounded like he was trying to keep from laughing. “I’d appreciate you saving me from assassins—femme fatale or otherwise—but I’d appreciate it all the more if you could do it without dying.”
Drayce extravagantly sighed and closed his eyes. He already felt lighter, freer, thanks to Caelan’s laughter. But also because he knew he’d stick to his promise. He would work harder to keep Caelan safe. “Yeah, if that’s what you want. But I haven’t figured out any other way of getting my own national holiday.”
7
Eno Bevyn
The last of the giggling died away, and there was only silence coming from the tent with Drayce and Caelan. Eno scrubbed a hand over his face and stared into the flickering fire in the center of their camp. His eyes burned and his muscles ached from both the walk and the fight. Gods, what a long couple of days.
From the corners of his eyes, he could see the dark-green tent was set up for him and Rayne. He should be crawling inside to catch what little sleep he could before they all needed to be up and moving for another treacherous walk through the Ordas, but he didn’t want to move yet. Not until Rayne went to sleep.
He chanced a glance over at the royal advisor. When had he last seen the man looking so unkempt and rumpled?
Prior to leaving the train, Rayne had changed into a pair of durable black cargo pants to protect his nice suit and a light-gray T-shirt. Both were now streaked with dirt and blood. A smudge on his cheek was either dirt or dried blood. Somehow, he seemed impossibly fierce and adorable at the same time. Probably not something he should mention.
He liked this Rayne. The less-than-perfect, vulnerable human side that would never be seen within the royal towers. This Rayne felt approachable. Touchable. And that was a stupid, dangerous feeling with his guard dropped so low. He was exhausted and didn’t want to do anything stupid. Because right now, he really wanted to pull Rayne into his arms and push his tongue into the man’s mouth, to finally know what he felt like. To taste him at long last.
