S.U. Pacat

“Damianos," Touars said. "Princekiller."It was the last thing he said. Damenpulled the sword out. He took a stepback.”

“You fight them, his father had said. You don't trust them. His father had been right. And his father had been ready. Rabatians were cowards and deceivers, they should have scattered when their duplicitous attack met the full force of the Akielon army. But for some reason they hadn't fallen at the first sign of a real fight, they had stood firm, and shown metal, and, for hour upon hour, they had fought, until the Akielon lines had begun to slip and falter.And their general wasn't the king, it was the twenty-five year old prince, holding the field. Father, I can take him, he'd said.Then go, his father had said, and bringus back victory.”

“Auguste had fought with honour. He hadbeen the one honourable man on atreacherous field.”

“Auguste preferred women. He told me I would grow into it. I told him that he could get heirs and I would read books. I was . . . nine? Ten? I thought I was already grown up. The hazards of overconfidence.”

“I thought killing was easy for you," said Laurent. His voice was rather quiet. "I thought you did it without thinking." "I'm a soldier," said Damen, "and I have been for a long time. I've killed on the sawdust. I've killed in battle. Is that what you mean by easy?""You know it isn't," said Laurent, in that same quiet voice.”

“We could try some other arrangement.""You're right: it should be me in frontand you carrying the horse.”

“Even before Laurent had hit the ground,the man had drawn his sword.Damen was too far away. He was too farto get between the man and Laurent, heknew that, even as hedrew his sword--even as he wheeled hishorse, felt the powerful bunch of theanimal beneath him. There was only onething he could do. As the spray of watersheared up from under his horse, hehefted hissword, changed his grip, and threw.It was, emphatically, not a throwingweapon. It was six pounds of Rabatiansteel, forged for a two-handed grip. Andhe was on a moving horse, and many feetaway, and the man was moving too,towardsLaurent.The sword drove through the air andtook the man in the chest, ramming intothe ground and pinning him there.”

“I wanted to tell you that, because you,"said Laurent, as though he was forcingthe words out, "You remind me of him.He was the best man I have ever known.You deserve to know that, as youdeserve atleast a fair . . . In Arles, I treated youwith malice and cruelty. I will not insultyou by attempting to atone for deedswith words, but I would not treat youthat way again. I was angry. Angry, thatisn't the word.”

“No. Wait. I . . . wait."Damen stopped, and turned. Laurent'sgaze was edged with indecipherableemotion, and his jaw was setat a new angle. The silence stretched outfor such a long time that the words, whenthey came, were a shock.”

“No," said Laurent, almost as if he wasrealising it for the first time. "I don'tthink you would. But I know you don'tlike it. I remember how much itmaddened you in the palace, to be boundand powerless. I felt yesterday howbadly you wanted to hit someone."Damen found he'd moved withoutrealising it, his fingers lifting to touchthe bruised edge of Laurent's jaw.He said, "The man who did this to you.”

“When Laurent turned to face him, hiseyes were dark. His lips were parteduncertainly. He had lifted his hand to hisown shoulder, as though chasing a ghosttouch there. He did not look exactlyrelaxed, but the movement did look alittle easier.”

“This," said Laurent, "is a little more—"It was a word of sharp points: "—intimate," he said, "than ice." "Too intimate?" Damen said. Slowly, he was kneading Laurent's shoulders.He did not usually think of himself as someone with suicidal impulses.”

“He found himself looking down at Laurent, his eyes passing slowly over the delicate skin, the lamp-darkened blue eyes, the elegant curve of cheekbone, interrupted by a stray strand of blond hair.”

“I'm not sure that's quite what I asked,"said Laurent. His voice had the samequality as his gaze. "This is closequarters.""Close enough to see your eyelashes,"said Damen. "It's lucky you do not havethe size to breed great warriors.”

“Damen pushed himself up on an elbow, and propped his head on his hand, his fingers in his hair. He saw that Laurent was looking at him. Not watching him, as he did sometimes, but looking at him, as a man might look at a carving that has caught his attention.”

“Stop enjoying yourself," Damen murmured. "We're going to be killed, any minute." "Giant animal," said Laurent. "Stop it.”

“It’s not naive to trust your family.’ ‘I promise you, it is,’ said Laurent. ‘But I wonder, is it less naive than the moments when I find myself trusting a stranger, my barbarian enemy, whom I do not treat gently.”

“This is close quarters.’ ‘Close enough to see your eyelashes,’ said Damen.”

“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”

“He's private about it. You saw hispersonal training ring, inside the palace.He'll go a few rounds with some of theguard occasionally, with Rochert, withme--laid me out a few times. He's not asgood as his brother was, but you onlyhave to be half as good as Auguste to beten times better than everyone else.”

“The advice of his father came back tohim, never to take your eyes off awounded boar: that once youengaged an animal in the hunt, you mustfight it to the finish, and that when a boarwas wounded, that was when it the mostdangerous animal of all.That thought nagged at him.”

“Think he'll kill him?" anotherspeculated.Damen knew the answer to that question.Laurent was not going to kill him. Hewas going to break him.Here, in front of everyone.”

“Laurent fought like he talked. The dangerlay in the way he used his mind: therewas not one thing he did that was notplanned in advance. Yet he was notpredictable, because in this as witheverything he did there were layers ofintent, moments when expected patternswould suddenly dissolve into somethingelse.”

“And any hope Damen had that Laurentcould control this scene ended asLaurent's face shuttered, as his eyes wentcold, and with the sharp sound of steel,his sword came out of its sheath.”

“Why do you give me good advice?"asked Laurent.Isn't that why you brought me withyou? Instead of speaking those wordsaloud, Damen said, "Why don't you takeany of it?”

“Why? Do you want to spar? We cankeep it friendly," Damen said."No," said Laurent.”

“Laurent flushed. The colour hit hischeeks hard, and a muscle tightened inhis jaw as whatever he felt was forciblyrepressed. It was not like any reactionthat Damen had ever seen from himbefore, and he couldn't resist pushing it alittle further.”

“Damen hadfound his gaze drawn to the easyarrangement of Laurent's limbs, thebalance of wrist on knee, the long, finelyarticulated bones. He had been aware ofa diffuse but growing tension, asensation almost like he was waiting . . .waiting for something, unsure what itwas. It was like being alone in a pit witha snake: the snake could relax, you couldnot.”

“I'm not going to use the knife," saidDamen, "but if you're willing to put it inmy hand, you underestimate how much Iwant to.""No," said Laurent, "I know exactly whatit is to want to kill a man, and to wait.”

“You really do have ice in your veins,don't you," said Damen.”

“You're so loyal to him. Why is that?""I'm not a turncoat Akielon dog," saidAimeric.”

“He didn't reprimand Damen. He didn't seem particularly displeased with barbaric behavior, as long as it was directed outward. Like a man who enjoys owning an animal who will rake others with its claws but eat peacefully from his own hand, he was giving his pet a great deal of license.As a result, courtiers kept one eye on Damen, giving him a wide berth. Laurent used that to his advantage, using the propensity of courtiers to fall back in reaction to Damen's presence as a means of extricating himself smoothly from conversation.The third time this happened Damen said, 'Shall I make a face at the ones you don't like, or is it enough to just look like a barbarian?”

“A golden prince was easy to love if you did not have to watch him picking wings off flies.”

“Damen had half expected a gaudy parade costume, but Laurent had always defined himself against the opulence of the court. And he did not need gilt to be recognised under a parade standard, only the uncovered bright of his hair.”

“I didn't send them after you,' said the cool, familiar voice. 'I sent them after the Regent's Guard, who were making enough racket to raise the dead, the drunk, and those without ears.”

“It was true; it was somehow not even a surprise, more like a truth that had grown for some time on the edge of his awareness, now brought into sharp relief. He thought: two thrones for the price of a few hire swords and a dose of pleasure drug.”

“You have to admire it,' said Laurent, in a detached voice. 'It's the perfect time to attack Akielos. Kastor is dealing with factional problems from the kyroi. Damianos, who turned the tide at Marlas, is dead. And the whole of Vere would rise up against a bastard, especially one who had cut down a Veretian prince. If only my murder weren't the catalyst, it's a scheme I would wholeheartedly support.”

“The town was a series of dark shapes with edges picked out in moonlight; sloping rooves and gables, balconies and gutters met one another in a chaotic, shadowed jumble. Behind him, the far-flung darkness of what must be the great northern forests. And to the south ... to the south, past the dark shapes of the city, past the lightly wooded hills and rich central provinces of Vere, lay the border, prickling with true castles, Ravenel, Fortaine, Marlas ... and across the border Delpha, and home.”

“The Veretian palace, afroth with ornament, paid only lip service to defence. The parapets were purposeless curving decorative spires. The slippery domes that he skirted would be a nightmare in an attack, hiding one part of the roof from the other.”

“The guard said, 'Our orders are no one in or out.''You can tell the Prince that,' said Damen, 'after you tell him you let through the Regent's pet.'That got a flicker of reaction. Invoking Laurent's bad mood was like a magical key, unlocking the most forbidding doors.”

“This place sickened him. Anywhere else, you simply killed your enemy with a sword. Or poisoned him, if you had the honourless instincts of an assassin. Here, it was layer upon layer of constructed double-dealing, dark, polished and unpleasant. He would have assumed tonight the product of Laurent's own mind, if Laurent were not so clearly the victim.”

“It was a kind of fire dance in which the stick was thrown and caught, and the flame, tossed and twirled, created sinuous shapes, circles and ever-moving patterns. Ancel's red hair created a pleasing aesthetic alongside the red and orange fire. And even without the hypnotic movement of the flame, the dance was beguiling, its difficulties made to look effortless, its physicality subtly erotic. Damen looked at Ancel with new respect. This performance required training, discipline and athleticism, which Damen admired. It was the first time that Damen had seen Veretian pets display skill in anything other than wearing clothes or climbing on top of one another.”

“I don't have sleeves to carry handkerchiefs in,' said Damen. 'I wouldn't mind being given a knife.' 'Or a fork?' said Laurent.”

“He's the captive Kastor sent you to train?' said Torveld, curiously. 'He's--safe?''He looks combative, but he's really very docile and adoring,' said Laurent, 'like a puppy.''A puppy,' said Torveld.To demonstrate, Laurent picked up a confection of crushed nuts and honey and held it out to Damen as he had at the ring, between thumb and forefinger.'Sweetmeat?' said Laurent.In the stretched-out moment that followed, Damen thought explicitly about killing him.”

“Damen bridged the nine chilly inches at the first opportunity. 'What are you doing? You were the one who warned me about Nicaise.' He spoke in a low voice.Laurent went very still; then he deliberately shifted in his seat and leaned in, bringing his lips right to Damen's ear. 'I think I'm out of stabbing range, he's got short arms. Or perhaps he'll try to throw a sugar plum? That is difficult. If I duck he'll hit Torveld.'Damen gritted his teeth. 'You know what I meant. He heard you. He's going to act. Can't you do something about it?''I'm occupied.''Then let me do something.''Bleed on him?' said Laurent.”

“Nicaise had picked up a gilt three-pronged fork, but had paused before sampling the dish in order to speak. The fear he'd shown of Damen at the ring seemed to still be there. His knuckles, clenched around the fork, were white.'It's all right,' said Damen. He spoke to the boy as gently as he could. 'I'm not going to hurt you.'Nicaise stared back at him. His huge blue eyes were fringed like a whore's, or like a doe's. Around them, the table was a coloured wall of voices and laughter, courtiers caught up in their own amusements, paying them no attention.'Good,' said Nicaise, and stabbed the fork viciously into Damen's thigh under the table.Even through a layer of cloth, it was enough to make Damen start, and instinctively grab the fork, as three drops of blood welled up.'Excuse me a moment,' Laurent said smoothly, turning from Torveld to face Nicaise.'I made your pet jump,' said Nicaise, smugly.Not sounding at all displeased: 'Yes, you did.''Whatever you're planning, it's not going to work.''I think it will, though. Bet you your earring.''If I win, you wear it,' said Nicaise.Laurent immediately lifted his cup and inclined it toward Nicaise in a little gesture sealing the bet. Damen tried to shake the bizarre impression that they were enjoying themselves.Nicaise waved an attendant over and asked for a new fork.”

“Torveld favoured Laurent with another of those long, admiring looks that were starting to come with grating frequency. Damen frowned. Laurent was a nest of scorpions in the body of one person. Torveld looked at him and saw a buttercup.”

“Damen to Jord about Laurent: 'He needs me,' said Damen. 'I don't care if you tell the world.”

“After a long moment Laurent said, with painful honesty, "I...find it difficult to let go of control.""No kidding," said Damen.”

“Let him come to Charcy, with his hithertos and his wherefores, and there he will find me, and with all the might of my kingdom I will scourge him from the field."And if you want a personal message," said Laurent, "You can tell my uncle boykiller that he can cut the head off every child from here to the capital. It won't make him into a king, it will simply mean he has no one left to fuck.”