S.U. Pacat

“I lack," said Laurent, "the easy mannerisms that are usually shared with," you could see him pushing the words out, "a lover.""You lack the easy mannerisms that are usually shared with anyone," said Damen.”

“Talik said, 'His contract with Lord Berenger ends soon. Ancel will seek a new contract, a high bidder. He wants money, status. He is foolish. Lord Berenger may offer less money, but he is kind, and never puts pets in the ring. Ancel has made many enemies. In the ring, someone will scratch his green eyes out, an "accident."'Damen was drawn in against his will. 'That's why he's chasing royal attention? He wants the Prince to--' He tried out the unfamiliar vocabulary. '--offer for his contract?''The Prince?' said Talik, scornfully. 'Everyone knows the Prince does not keep pets.''None at all?' said Damen.She said, 'You.' She looked him up and down. 'Perhaps the Prince has a taste for men, not these painted Veretian boys who squeal if you pinch them.' Her tone suggested that she approved of this on general principle.”

“The Akielon march into the fort was the flow of a single red stream, except that whereas water swirled and swelled, it was straight and unyielding.Their arms and legs were crudely bare, as if war was an act of flesh impacting on flesh. Their weapons were unadorned, as if they had brought only the essentials required for killing. Rows and rows of them, laid out with mathematical precision. The discipline of feet marching in unison was a display of power, and violence, and strength.”

“The collar came first, and when Guerin drew it from his neck he felt the collar's absence like a lightness, his spine unfurling, his shoulders settling.Like a lie, cracking and dropping from him.”

“To get what you want, you have to know exactly how much you are willing to give up.Never had he wanted something this badly, and held it in his hands knowing that tomorrow it would be gone, traded for the high cliffs of Ios, and the uncertain future across the border, the chance to stand before his brother, to ask him for all the answers that no longer seemed important. A kingdom, or this.”

“To Laurent, in the same voice, he said, 'Calm down.'Laurent said, 'I wasn't finished.''Finished what?' Reducing every man in the room? Jord isn't any kind of match for you in this mood, and you know it. Calm down.'Laurent gave him the kind of look a swordsman gives as he decides whether or not to slice his unarmed enemy in half.”

“He thought of Laurent's delicate, needling talk that froze into icy rebuff if Damen pushed at it, but if he didn't--if he matched himself to its subtle pulses and undercurrents--continued, sweetly deepening, until he could only wonder if he knew, if they both knew, what they were doing.”

“He killed, his sword shearing, shield and horse a ram, pushing in, and further in, opening a space by force alone for the momentum of the men behind him. Beside him a man fell to a spear in the throat. To his left, an equine scream as Rochert's horse went down.In front of him, methodically, men fell, and fell, and fell.He split his attention. He swept a sword cut aside with his shield, killed a helmed soldier, and all the while flung out his mind, waiting for the moment when Touar's lines split open. The most difficult part of commanding from the front was this--staying alive in the moment, while tracking in his mind, critically, the whole fight. Yet it was exhilarating, like fighting with two bodies, at two scales.”

“The shock of collision was like the smashing of boulders in the landslide at Nesson. Damen felt the familiar battering shudder, the sudden shift in scale as the panorama of the charge was abruptly replaced by the slam of muscle against metal, of horse and man impacting at speed. Nothing could be heard over the crashing, the roars of men, both sides warping and threatening to rupture, regular lines and upright banners replaced by a heaving, struggling mass. Horses slipped, then regained their footing; others fell, slashed or speared through.”

“The Regency,' said Laurent, addressing the troop, 'thought to take us outnumbered. It expected us to roll over without a fight.'Damen said: 'We will not let them cow us, subdue us or force us down. Ride hard. Don't stop to fight the front line. We are going to smash them open. We are here to fight for our Prince!'The cry rang out, For the Prince! The men gripped their swords, slammed their visors down, and the sound they made was a roar.”

“My scorn and contempt,' said Laurent, 'are not in need of your leniency. Lord Touars, you face me in my own kingdom, you inhabit my lands, and you breathe at my pleasure. Make your own choice.”

“Red. Red, the colour of the Regency, scrawled over with the iconography of the border forts, growing, fluttering. These were the banners of Ravenel. Not only the banners, but men and riders, flowing over the hilltop like wine from an over-full cup, staining and darkening its slopes, and spreading.”

“The embroidery came later, in the retelling, as the story was told again and again by the men, taking on its own character as it passed over camp.The Prince had ridden out, with only one soldier. Deep in the mountains, he had chased down the rats responsible for these killings. Had ripped them out of their hiding holes and fought them, thirty to one, at least. Had brought them back thrashed, lashed and subdued. That was their Prince for you, a twisty, vicious fiend who you should never, ever cross, unless you wanted your gullet handed to you on a platter. Why, he once rode a horse to death just to beat Torveld of Patras to the mark.In the men's eyes the feat was reflected as the wild, impossible thing it was--their Prince vanishing for two days, then appearing out of the night with a sackful of prisoners thrown over his shoulder, tossing them at the feet of his troop and saying: You wanted them? Here they are.”

“He was under no illusion that he was going to be taken to the campfire to roll around with Laurent. If anything, he was going to be taken to the campfire to watch Laurent do some inventive sidestepping.”

“By this time, the camp was cleared, and the newly pitched tents looked like softly glowing globes, the light from lamps inside turning the tent skins to warm gold.”

“Can you stand? We need to move out. It's not safe for you here. Too many people want to kill you.'After a moment, Laurent said, 'Everyone to the south, but only half the people to the north.”

“They agreed on a rendezvous, and Laurent took off with the restrained urgency of a man who has to find some way to hide sixteen hands of bay gelding behind a shrub.”

“The next night, alone in the tent, Laurent said: 'As we draw closer to the border, I think it would be safer--more private--to hold our discussions in your language rather than mine.'He said it in carefully pronounced Akielon.Damen stared at him, feeling as though the world had just been rearranged.'What is it?' said Laurent.'Nice accent,' said Damen, because despite everything, the corner of his mouth was beginning helplessly to curve up.[...]It was of course no surprise to find that Laurent had a well-stocked armoury of elegant phrases and bitchy remarks, but could not talk in detail about anything sensible.”

“Ride!' went the call, and the individuals of the troop became a single lurching, streaming mass of horseflesh pounding toward the trees. The first of the men reached the tree line moments before the sound became a roar, the crack and crash of stones, of huge granite boulders large enough to smash into other parts of the cliff and send them driving downwards. The thundering sound, echoing off the walls of the mountain, was frightening and panicked the horses almost more than the boulders at their heels. It was as though the whole surface of the cliff loosened, dissolved into a liquid surface: a rain of stone, a rolling wave of stone.”

“He was not wearing the woollen cap. His newly minted hair was uncovered, and he looked as fresh as he had emerging from the baths the night before, as he had waking beneath Damen's hands. But he had resumed the cool restraint, his jacket laced, his expression disagreeable from the haughty profile to the intolerant blue eyes. 'You're alive,' Damen said, and the words came out on a rush of relief that made him feel weak. 'I'm alive,' said Laurent. They were gazing at one another. 'I wasn't sure you'd come back.' 'I came back,' said Damen.”

“Damen felt Laurent start shaking against him, and realised that, silently, helplessly, he was laughing.There came the sound of at least two more sets of footsteps striding into the room, greeted with: 'Here he is. We found him fucking this derelict, disguised as the tavern prostitute.''This is the tavern prostitute. You idiot, the Prince of Vere is so celibate I doubt he even touches himself once every ten years. You. We're looking for two men. One was a barbarian soldier, a giant animal. The other was blond. Not like this boy. Attractive.' 'There was a blond lord's pet downstairs,' said Volo. 'Brained like a pea and easy to hoodwink. I don't think he was the Prince.' 'I wouldn't call him blond. More like mousy. And he wasn't that attractive,' said the boy, sulkily. The shaking, progressively, had worsened. 'Stop enjoying yourself,' Damen murmured. 'We're going to be killed, any minute.''Giant animal,' said Laurent. 'Stop it.”

“Stay back, old man. It isn't your business. This is the Prince of Vere.' 'But---I only paid three coppers for him,' said Volo, sounding confused.”

“That isn't why. She would have chosen him even if you'd had royal blood in your veins, even if you'd had the same blood as Kastor. You don't understand the way a mind like that thinks. I do. If I were Jokaste and a king maker, I'd have chosen Kastor over you too.' 'I suppose you are going to enjoy telling me why,' said Damen. He felt his hands curl into fists, heard the bitterness in his throat. 'Because a king maker would always choose the weaker man. The weaker the man, the easier he is to control.”

“I'm twenty years old,' said Laurent, 'and I've been the recipient of offers almost as long as I can remember.' 'Is that an answer?' said Damen. 'I'm not a virgin,' said Laurent. 'I wondered,' Damen said, carefully, 'if you reserved your love for women.' 'No, I--' Laurent sounded surprised. Then he seemed to realise that his surprise gave something fundamental away, and he looked away with a muttered breath; when he looked back at Damen there was a wry smile on his lips, but he said, steadily, 'No.' 'Have I said something to offend you? I didn't mean--' 'No. A plausible, benign and uncomplicated theory. Trust you to come up with it.' 'It's not my fault that no one in your country can think in a straight line,' said Damen, frowning a touch defensively.”

“She was intelligent, accomplished, beautiful. She was everything I could have asked for in a woman. But she was a king maker. She wanted power. She must have thought her only path to the throne was through Kastor.' 'My honourable barbarian. I wouldn't have picked that as your type.' 'Type?' 'A pretty face, a devious mind and a ruthless nature.”

“The Crown Prince was camped at Nesson this very minute, on his way to the border to stand up to Akielos. He was a young man serious about his responsibilities, Charls said. Damen had to make an effort not to look over at Laurent, gambling, when he said it.”

“You broke a man today. Doesn't that affect you at all? These are lives, not pieces in a chess game with your uncle.' 'You're wrong. We are on my uncle's board and these men are all his pieces.' 'Then each time you move one of them, you can congratulate yourself on how much like him you are.”

“If you bind your men to you with deception, how can you ever trust them? You have qualities they will come to admire. Why not let them grow to trust you naturally, and in that way--' 'There isn't time,' said Laurent. The words pushed themselves with sheer force out of whatever wordless state Laurent had been shocked into. 'There isn't time,' Laurent said again. 'I have two weeks until we reach the border. Don't pretend that I can woo these men with hard work and a winning smile in that time. I am not the green colt my uncle pretends. I fought at Marlas and I fought at Sanpelier. I am not here for niceties. I don't intend to see the men I lead cut down because they will not obey orders, or because they cannot hold a line. I intend to survive, I intend to beat my uncle, and I will fight with every weapon that I have.”

“Laurent, just turned twenty, and possessing an elaborate mind with a gift for planning, detached it from the petty intrigues of the court and set it loose on the broader canvas of this, his first command.”

“Laurent wasn't loved. Laurent wasn't liked. Even among his own men, who would follow him off a cliff, there was the unequivocal consensus that Laurent was, as Orlant had once described him, a cast iron bitch, that it was a very bad idea to get on his bad side, and that as for his good side, he didn't have one.”

“Laurent stopped. Damen could see the moment when Laurent decided to continue. It was deliberate, his eyes meeting Damen's, his tone subtly changed. 'Damianos of Akielos was commanding troops at seventeen. At nineteen, he rode onto the field, cut a path through our finest men, and took my brother's life. They say--they said--he was the best fighter in Akielos. I thought, if I was going to kill someone like that, I would have to be very, very good.”

“A minute or two more and Orlant disengaged, and swore. 'Are you going to fight me or not?'You said we were sparring,' said Damen, neutrally.Orlant flung down his sword, took two steps off to one of the watching men, and pulled from its sheath thirty inches of polished steel straightsword, which without preamble he returned to swing with killing speed at Damen's neck.”

“He said, 'Damianos.'Before Damen could tell him to rise, he heard it again, echoed in another voice, and then another. It was passing over the gathered men in the courtyard, his name in tones of shock and of awe. The steward beside Nikandros was kneeling. And then four of the men in the front ranks. And then more, dozens of men, rank after rank of soldiers. And as Damen looked out, the army was dropping to its knees, until the courtyard was a sea of bowed heads, and silence replaced the murmur of voices, the words spoken over and over again. 'He lives. The King's son lives. Damianos.'”

“I want you," said Damen."You've had me," said Laurent. "Twice.I can still feel the . . . sensation of it."Laurent shifted, just so. Damen buriedhis face in Laurent's neck and groaned,and there was laughter too, andsomething akin to happiness that hurt asit pushed at the inside of his chest."Stop it. You will not be able to walk,"said Damen."I'd welcome the chance to walk," saidLaurent. "I have to ride a horse.”

“Your inclination appears to be much asit was last night."Damen found himself saying, "You talkthe same in bed," and the words cameout sounding like he felt: helplesslycharmed.”

“He wasn't sure how it would be, butwhen Laurent saw who was beside him,he smiled, the expression alittle shy but completely genuine.Damen, who hadn't been expecting it,felt the single painful beat of his heart.He'd never thought Laurent could looklike that at anyone.”

“What are you doing?" Damen's breathwas shaky."What am I doing? You are not veryobservant.""You're not yourself," said Damen. "Andeven if you were, you don't do anythingwithout a dozen motives."Laurent went very still, the soft wordshalf bitter. "Don't I? I must wantsomething.”

“The doors closed, behind him; he turned,and saw Laurent.His stomach dropped, a moment ofconfused shock--he'd never expected tosee Laurent here.”

“Are you going to try it with me? Or doyou only take pleasure in attacking thosewho cannot defend themselves?" Damenheard the hardness in his own voice. Heheld his ground. Around them, the towerroom was empty. He had sent everyoneelse out. "I remember the last time youwere like this. You blundered so badlyyou gave your uncle the excuse heneeded to have you stripped of yourlands.”

“I'm sorry," said Damen.Laurent gave him a strange look. "Whywould you apologise to me?"He couldn't answer. Not with the truth.He said, "I didn't understand what beingKing meant to you.""What's that?""An end to fighting."Laurent's expression changed, the subtlesignifiers of shock imperfectlyrepressed, and Damen felt it in his ownbody, a new pull in his chest at the lookin Laurent's dark eyes.”

“Father, I can beat him, he'd said, andhe'd ridden out and returned to a hero'swelcome, to have his armour stripped byservants, to have his father greet himwith pride. He remembered that night,all those nights, the galvanising power ofhis father's expansionist victories, theapprobation, as success flowed fromsuccess. He had not thought about theway it had played out on the other sideof the field. When this game began, Iwas younger.”

“They are surely gods who speak to himWith steady voicesA glance from him drives men to theirkneesHis sigh brings cities to ruinI wonder if he dreams of surrenderOn a bed of white flowersOr is that the mistaken hopeOf every would-be conqueror?The world was not made for beauty likehis.”

“That’s right, I’m still captured,’ said Damen. ‘Your eyes say, “For now,”’ Laurent said. ‘Your eyes have always said, “For now.”

“I remember. You take a great deal ofpleasure in small victories." Damenquoted Laurent's words back to him."It's not small," said Laurent. "It's thefirst time I've ever won a play againstmy uncle.”

“Then Laurent turned and saw him, andthe pressure in his chest grew like painas Laurent greeted him, half stripped andbright-eyed.”

“As the heavy latticed iron beetled abovetheir heads, Damen found himselfwanting it, wanting disruption, a cry ofoutrage, or of challenge, wanting it as arelease to this--feeling. Traitor. Stop.But none came.”

“Enguerran looked up at Damen. The lasttime they had faced one another,Enguerran had been trying tobar Damen from Touars's hall. AnAkielon has no place in the company ofmen.”

“You fill me with horror," said Jord. Hishands were tight on his knife. Both hishands, now."Captain," a voice called. "Captain!"Damen's eyes were on Jord's face."That's you," Jord said.”

“Damen said, "If you tell him, I can'tserve him.""Tell him?" said Jord. "Tell him the manhe trusts has lied, and lied again, hasdeceived him into the worsthumiliation?""I wouldn't hurt him," said Damen, andheard the words drop like lead."You killed his brother, then got himunder you in bed.”

“He became aware of a man drawnalongside them, frozen in stillness evenin the midst of battle, andknew that what had just happened hadbeen seen, and overheard.He turned, the truth on his face. Strippedbare, he could not hide himself in thatmoment. Laurent, he thought, and liftedhis gaze to meet the eyes of the man whohad witnessed the last words of LordTouars.It wasn't Laurent. It was Jord.He was staring at Damen in horror, hissword lax in his hand.”