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The mention of losing his clothing once more lodged in Sebastian’s gut like a barbed arrow.
“I still don’t agree to sell my finery. There are no clothes like this in the entirety of the land. I understand I cannot wear them, but I do not want to forsake it.”
“Seb…” Lucan lowered his voice warningly, and Sebastian felt a tingle in his ass. He could not forget that this knight was comfortable with beating him.
“But I may never see Devos again! Never have another suit from his talented fingers again! You don’t understand. Every stitch was one he made himself. And now he is at the mercy of those brutes who will certainly never appreciate the quality of his tailoring!”
Sebastian burst into tears at both the loss of his friend the tailor, and at the thought of parting with the clothing he had removed forever. It might very well be the last nice thing he ever wore. Now he stood in the underclothes of a knight, his body completely lost in thick linen drapes. He was made ugly.
A strong hand clasped his shoulder in sympathy. A question broke through his tears.
“Were you in love with the tailor?”
Sebastian heard a hint of something that sounded almost like jealousy, but could not possibly have been, in Lucan’s voice.
“Of course not. I was in love with his work. He made me look my best. Every piece of his tailoring was perfectly exquisite. I am going to look…” Seb drew in a deep breath. “Average.”
Lucan chuckled softly. “Sire, you are never going to look average. It is not possible.”
“You mean I’m ugly now,” Seb sobbed.
“I mean you’re gorgeous,” Lucan growled. “And it’s not because of the clothes you are wearing. They are props. You don’t need them.”
Sebastian lifted wet eyes to his knight. “Do you really mean that?”
The question echoed the one he had asked previously. The same question. The same fear. He was absolutely paralyzed by it.
“You are…” Lucan closed his mouth for a moment, almost as though he was afraid of what might come out of it. “Beautiful.”
Sebastian fell silent, his tears drying on his cheeks. He had spent many years gathering feedback on his appearance, and one of his skills was knowing when a compliment was genuine. Lucan sounded deeply serious.
The energy between them had shifted, subtly. Lucan let go of Seb and took a step back. Sebastian wiped his eyes on the sleeve of Lucan’s undershirt.
“Alright,” he agreed. “We will sell it.”
Again, not really a choice he had been given, but he pretended it was one anyway.
“Thank you,” Lucan said, graciously playing along with the pretense of options. “Then we are agreed, and ready to move.”
“I have no pants.”
“We’ll buy pants. And boots. And a horse. And a sword.”
“I don’t know how to use a sword either. My mother forbade me from interacting with anybody at the castle who engaged in swordplay.”
“Yes, and it was an egregious oversight in your education. Most royal houses want their princes to be capable in the military arts.”
“She regarded me as nothing more than a royal stud to be put to a female of her choosing.”
He saw Lucan’s expression shift slightly at his use of the word stud.
He was sure Lucan was straight. A man as strong and honorable as him had to be. Sebastian’s mother had told him masculine men always preferred beautiful women. But Lucan had called him beautiful too.
Little sprigs of hope sprang in Sebastian’s heart.
4 TEARS AND SACRIFICE
Lucan stepped outside and was preparing to mount up now, having stashed his tabard, declaring it unsellable. Sebastian considered doing the same with his clothing, but he knew time was of the essence, and that another discussion with Lucan about it would no doubt lead to pain. A tabard of the house of Force would not likely fetch a high price in a political climate in which the wearer would be summarily beheaded, so he had a point.
Sebastian followed in Lucan’s wake and watched as the knight bundled up his clothes, including his stockings and his wonderful footwear. It was bad enough watching Devos’ work handled like so much sack cloth, but further insults followed injury when Lucan turned to Sebastian and extended his palm.
“You’re going to need to take off those rings, bangles, and necklace, sire.”
Having recently agreed to this plan, Sebastian immediately changed his mind and refused.
“No,” he said. “They are mine, and you cannot have them. You may have dressed me like the sorriest creature on the planet, but my jewels…”
Lucan’s next words came in a dominant growl that flashed like lightning through Sebastian’s body.
“Seb, I don’t have time to thrash you right now, but I will later if you don’t take those off this instant.”
Sebastian felt every inch an errant young squire disobeying his knight. Hot shame and a tingle of excitement coursed through his body. He wanted his jewels, but this feeling was even more precious. He made a little mental note that it was defiance that had produced this result. Perhaps more of it might result in this rather delicious feeling which made him rather hot even in the cool morning air, and very nearly almost entirely erased the horrors of the previous evening. Sebastian’s obsession with Lucan had been growing for years now. To find himself the sole recipient of the knight’s attentions was quite something, circumstances notwithstanding.
