“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.”

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

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”