Chapter Text
To be not a king but a creature who hunts rats,
the son of [destroyed] will forever be [unintelligible]
—unfinished curse by an unnamed sorceress
“Retiring already, Exalted?”
Damen stifled the low growl building in his throat. For a moment he considered ignoring the question altogether—he could always feign ignorance of having heard it, if he was pressed—but then, he had never been a good liar, and Nikandros knew it.
“I am,” he answered shortly. He didn’t stop walking; any pause would leave him vulnerable to being ushered back inside the giant banquet hall, and if that happened, he likely wouldn’t find another opportunity to leave until it was too late. “It’s been a long day, Kyros. And our Veretian delegate has already retired. No one will be annoyed that I’ve left a dinner in honor of a prince who isn’t even present.”
“Yes, I’m sure no one will suspect anything with you leaving only minutes after he did,” Nikandros muttered, running a bit to catch up to Damen. Once they were out of earshot he lowered his voice, and said, “Damen. Tell me you’re not about to go do something stupid.”
“Are you insinuating the Crown Prince of Akielos is capable of doing something stupid?” Damen asked imperiously. Nik sighed, but was obviously unwilling to comment on the matter. Damen tried another approach. “I don’t think it’s stupid to try and learn more about a man who verbally flayed me in front of half of my kyroi today.”
“You’re right, it’s not. But you can learn about him as other men do,” Nik said. He reached out to try and grab Damen’s arm, but Damen skipped out of the way and lengthened his stride. “Show him about the library. Take him through the gardens. You had no problem charming his brother through the usual, normal methods when he was here last season.”
“King Auguste is different,” Damen said. “He isn’t so…”
“Difficult?” Nik supplied.
Damen frowned. Difficult wasn’t really the right word. Prince Laurent’s wit was fast as lightning and he had a tongue sharp enough to cut stone, and taken out of context Damen supposed that those things could potentially make someone seem difficult. But Damen didn’t think Laurent was the kind of man who was being obstinate just because he could. Even the sweetest animal backed into a corner would bare his teeth.
Outside the royal chambers Damen’s guards shifted to attention, saving him from having to come up with answer. Nik paused behind him, his stance making it clear that he had no intention of leaving.
“I have a terrible head pain tonight,” Damen informed the captain of the guard, who nodded solemnly. The guards were well accustomed to the protocol surrounding Damen’s frequent pains, and he trusted they would ensure that his solitude remained undisturbed under any circumstance.
“Yes, Exalted,” the guards intoned in unison, and Damen stepped inside his room. Nikandros, as expected, followed him and shut the doors firmly behind, bolting them shut with a deafening thud.
“Damen,” Nikandros said, his displeasure uninhibited now that they were decidedly alone, “if someone sees you there will be rumors, you know that. And with how…tepid our relationship has been with this Veretian envoy, if one of them even glimpses you they’ll take it as a threat—”
“No one will see me,” Damen said placatingly, opening the doors to the balcony. He propped one open with a small heavy stone, ensuring that the gap of about six inches wasn’t at risk of opening wider. “Everyone is still getting drunk in the great hall. No one will be looking outside.”
“If Prince Laurent even mentions that he thinks he’s seen something—”
“Prince Laurent won’t say anything because he won’t even notice my shadow,” Damen said, dousing the lamps in the room and plunging the two of them into darkness. “This is a reconnaissance mission only, Nik. I promise you.”
Nik grumbled something Damen didn’t hear—and wasn’t intended to hear, he was certain—but he was too eager to press the matter. He climbed on the bed, settling himself in the most comfortable position for what was about to happen, and unhooked the complicated latches that kept the golden collar around his neck in place.
The sensation never felt any less unnerving. Like being squeezed into a place that was too small for his body, every inch of skin pressed and pulled almost further than he could bear. Strange lights and sounds assaulted his senses and for a moment he was in chaos—but only for a moment, before the crisis resolved. He looked around, orienting himself. The darkness, which had a moment ago been overwhelming, was now a much more visible shade of gray. His ears swiveled at the faint patter of a moth’s wings beating against the glass of the doors on the balcony and he hopped down from the bed, needing only a moment to accustom himself to four points of contact rather than two.
“I’ll be here when you return,” Nik said, taking the precious collar off of Damen’s bed and tucking it in the secret box hidden underneath. “I’ll make sure—achoo!”
Damen winced, and took a few steps away from his friend.
Sorry, he said.
“Mrow,” was what came out.
“Yeah, yeah,” Nik said, swatting towards the last place he knew Damen had been. As dark as it was Nik likely couldn’t see much. His suddenly runny nose and eyes probably weren’t helping either. Nik sniffled one more time and said, miserably, “Get out of here, will you?”
Damen didn’t need to be told twice. Slipping through the small gap of the open balcony doors he leapt onto the railing outside and jumped, landing neatly on all four paws on the ground below. His newly sensitive ears picked up one last sneeze from his rooms, but now that he was gone Nikandros’ allergies would likely settle. Keeping to the shadows Damen prowled across the courtyard, unseen by human or animal. Eventually he found what he was looking for: a small crack in the wall that would allow him access to the public gardens, just big enough for him to slip through. Any bigger and it might have been a security risk; as it was, the perfect size for a cat.
The night thrummed with sights and sounds invisible to human senses. In the sweetly flowering trees Damen could hear birds settling themselves for the night; his nose picked out the smell of the roasting pork all the way in the banquet hall, his ears swiveling as the guests freely availed themselves of drink without risk of royal censure. Damen turned away from this noise. Prince Laurent wouldn’t want to wander too far in an unfamiliar place, he guessed, but a quiet space away from the party must have been tempting.
He didn’t have to search long. Damen eventually found him sitting on the low edge of a fountain, shielded by a large flowering hedge. The radiant orange blooms and thick green leaves created a small oasis of peace away from the noise and smell of the party. The light from the windows was a dim fire against the surface of the water, and the purple twilight of the evening ensured that Damen had no fear of being seen even if Laurent’s back wasn’t turned towards him, which it was.
But—well. This was a reconnaissance mission, was it not? He didn’t come here to look at the prince’s backside, as pleasing a picture as that was. Silently he drew around to the other side of the fountain, keeping to the shadows of the greenery around him, his paws silent on the ground. Laurent’s attention was on the fountain; his fingers trailed lazily in the water, ripples expanding in his wake.
He was different, like this. During the negotiations today, even at the more casual reception the day before, Prince Laurent’s demeanor had been stilted, stiff. The line of his brow had been fastidiously kept smooth, his hands unnaturally still at his side. He moved with the carefulness of a newborn fawn crossing a den of sleeping wolves, ready to bolt at the first glint of teeth.
Now he was—not relaxed, not really. But one or two of the vertebrae in his spine had unwinched, and he was unguarded in a way that Damen hadn’t previously imagined possible. He looked more like the youth he was than as a manifestation of Vere’s power and influence. Damen imagined him waiting here for a friend, or a lover; how his face would crease into a smile, how his posture might relax even further into pleased anticipation.
“Oh, hello,” Laurent said, and Damen looked around, startled, thinking that perhaps he had willed such a creature into existence and hadn’t heard them approach; but there was no one else, and it took Damen another moment entirely to realize that it was he who was being addressed, and not some interloper. He looked up, and saw Laurent’s piercing blue eyes fixed directly on him.
It was his own fault, really. He would have been safe if he had stuck to the shadows as planned, but his study of Laurent’s face made him careless. He could run—it would only take seconds to be nothing more than a blur at the edges of the gardens, would give some credence to the denial he could make, if Laurent brought it up. A trick of the light, maybe, or a fox wandering in from the wooded area around the palace. Human eyesight was quite poor, really, especially in the dark.
“It’s okay,” Laurent said, his voice smooth and soft, the way people spoke to creatures they believed couldn’t understand them. “Don’t go. I’d enjoy the company, if you wanted to stay. I daresay it would be the first company I would welcome since I’ve arrived.”
And just like that, Damen had no choice. He unflattened his ears and walked forward briskly, effortlessly hopping up to the lip of the fountain. Laurent’s mouth curved into a smile, transforming his entire face; no longer a prince in a foreign country, alone and overwhelmed with the weight of his station, but a young man at rest, happy and content.
Damen pressed his head against Laurent’s side, rubbing against the fine silk of his jacket. He could feel the low rumble of Laurent’s laughter, although his ears only caught the barest huff of amusement escape The seat around the fountain was wide enough that Damen could traverse it without risking a fall into the water and so he came around to Laurent’s other side, sitting primly with his tail curled around his paws as Laurent turned to face him.
Tell me, he said, extending one paw to rest on Laurent’s lap. Tell me how I can make your stay here better.
“Meowowo meow,” came out of his mouth.
“Well!” Laurent laughed, taking Damen’s forwardness as an opportunity to scratch him between his ears. Damen purred, leaning into the touch as Laurent caressed the silky fur. “Aren’t you a brave one. Most people are too scared to approach me, let alone touch me. Although, I suppose you’re not people, are you? It’s all starting to make sense.”
Scared? Damen asked, ignoring the unintentional jab that he wasn’t a person. Scared of—you?
Laurent answered his questioning meow with a short laugh. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell. And besides, any animosity towards me is not an exclusively Akielon reaction; my own countrymen treat me much the same as your owners do here. I seem to have no problem inspiring it in everyone I meet. You seem to like me well enough though, don’t you?”
I do, Damen said forcefully. The noise that came out was more of a bark than a meow, and Laurent startled at the loudness of it before throwing his head back with laughter.
“You’re very opinionated, aren’t you?” Laurent asked, still smiling. “I can’t fault you for that. I tend to be very opinionated myself, although I fancy myself cultured. Not that it makes me any easier to endure.” The small smile playing about his lips vanished, and after a moment of silence he finished his sentence as if he had never stopped. “Unlike that one kyros—Eschalus, Athielias, something like that. Do you know him?”
Kyros Aeschylus, Damen said. Wait, yes! I know him, what about him? What has he done?
“He thinks I don’t know the Akielon language as well as I do,” Laurent said dryly, answering Damen’s question as clearly as if he had heard it spoken. “Or maybe he just assumes I don’t know any of the dirty words. Or—” and Laurent paused, his expression pulled back in the austere, cold aspect Damen was more used to seeing, “—perhaps he does.”
A noise from behind startled them both; boots crunching on the loose gravel. Damen might have heard it earlier if he wasn’t so focused on Laurent, and he felt his hackles rise as the intruder came nearer.
“It’s okay,” Laurent said, giving Damen one last good rub of his ears before standing and stretching his arms above his head. “It’s just Jord. He’s with me. I’ve been out here too long. But you’re a good listener. Once I’m done with my duties here maybe I’ll steal you away in my luggage when I leave,” he finished, planting a quick kiss on Damen’s fuzzy head before waving goodbye and slipping away.
And then he was gone. Damen was as stunned by the news that one of his kyroi had put their entire negotiation at risk by insulting the prince as he was by Laurent’s easily given affection. The scent of his perfume clung to Damen’s fur, a foreign spice that reminded him of trees in winter. He allowed himself to stay a moment longer, taking in the sound of Laurent’s steps crunching on the gravel, the precise marching of a man on a mission, growing fainter until the splash of the fountain was all Damen could hear.
“Well?” Nikandros demanded as Damen pushed himself up from the bed. It always took him a moment to remember how to walk on two legs again and he swiveled around to touch his feet gingerly on the floor before risking any weight on them. Nik’s expression was half angry, half curious and still filled with a bit of snot. “How did it go? Did you learn anything that might help our negotiations?”
“I did,” Damen said, still a bit startled to hear words instead of yowls. He swore he could feel the ghost of Laurent’s lips against his hair, and fought down the blush he could feel threatening his cheeks. “It was a surprisingly fruitful endeavor.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Nik grumbled as Damen righted his clothes, settling the collar comfortably against his neck.
“Let Aeschylus know I would speak to him,” Damen said, a feral smile on his lips. “We have some things to discuss, I think.”
“Honored guests, lunch is served,” a servant called out in a fluted, pleasant voice.
The men and women in the midst of agonizing over the minutiae of every road a trade caravan would take between Ios and Arles were only too pleased to have a reason for a break. They filtered into the adjoining room where a generous spread of small sandwiches and fruits and other delicacies laid pleasingly spread on cool marble trays. Though such a setup encouraged the guests to mingle as they picked out their favorite pieces, the two groups—Veretians on one side, Akielons on the other—quickly separated to find their countrymen. Damen met Nik’s eye and his kyros shrugged, shaking his head.
Well. Damen was the prince here; this was his home. If anyone was responsible for bridging this gap, it was he.
“Prince Laurent,” Damen said, joining Laurent at the spread. Laurent’s head whipped around, curiously, as if Damen were perhaps referring to another Prince Laurent standing somewhere else in the room. “I trust you are finding some refreshing food for lunch.”
“It is an….interesting way to prepare food,” Laurent said, gingerly picking up a strawberry and setting it on a plate. The murmur of conversation around them was starkly separated into Akielon on one side and Veretian on the other, with no one even trying to converse with their neighbors, not even their interpreters. “I have to admit I was wondering how you prevent poisoning, with a setup like this.”
“Poisoning?” Damen said, laughing. “Is that what you’re worried about? Akielons do not use poison. That is a coward’s method of fighting.”
“I see,” Laurent said, gingerly setting down the small plate of food he had been carrying. “I wondered if it was food related issues, perhaps, that kept Kyros Aeschylus from joining us today.”
“No,” Damen said simply. “I sent him home.”
Laurent blinked. Perhaps he had not expected such a blunt answer; perhaps he was already bracing himself for Aeschylus’ return. He said, quietly, “I was led to understand that he fancied himself the greatest horsemaster in Akielos, and that his stables would be responsible for much of the over-land transportation of goods.”
“Akielos has many horses,” Damen said, smiling, although Laurent’s remarks were nearly identical to the ones Nikandros had made this morning—although Laurent delivered the sentiment with less yelling, perhaps, than his kyros had been inclined to. “And there are other horsemasters who will benefit from such a contract. Horsemasters who fully, publicly and privately, support this trade alliance.”
“I see,” Laurent said, tilting his head. Whether he thought the matter infighting and favoritism between the Akielon factions or simply an innocuous turn of events, Damen couldn’t tell. “Well, I don’t suppose it should alter any of our agreements, as long as you fulfill what we’ve already discussed. If you feel we need to renegotiate any part—”
“Would you like to take a walk through the gardens, Prince Laurent?” Damen asked him suddenly.
Laurent blinked again. The quality of his silence was different than before; Damen had the idea of a man at a crossroads, desperately checking every direction as far as he could before deciding on the safest path.
“If you wish to discuss the finer aspects of this contract,” Laurent said, eyeing Damen warily, “I’ll have to ask for a representative to accompany us—”
“Laurent,” Damen said, purposefully dropping the honorific. “Stop. That wasn’t what I meant. Let’s take some air. As—friendly acquaintances. Nothing more than that.”
“It can hardly be otherwise when two princes are involved,” Laurent answered warily.
“Is that a no?”
Another silence, and then: “Lead the way.”
They slipped out. Unlikely that they went unnoticed, but no one called out to them or tried to follow. Laurent was as silent now as he was chatty last night, but Damen had expected that, based on what he already knew of the other man. It was half the reason why he had come to him in his cat form to begin with.
“You’re enjoying your stay here, I presume?” Damen asked, and then, blushing at how inane that sounded, “I mean—everything you need is accounted for?”
“Yes, of course,” Laurent answered rotely, and then, with a bit more feeling, “Your accommodations are very nice. Different from what I’m used to, obviously, but—the gardens especially are quite lovely, and nothing like what we have at home.”
Damen felt a proud sort of pleasure flush through him.
“My mother did much to make them into what they are today,” he said. The twinge of grief associated with his mother plucked at him, as it always did, but he was used to bearing it. “She was enamored with gardens. This one, of course, but she was also responsible for many of the public gardens throughout the city. It was important to her for every citizen to be easily able to sit under the shade of a beautiful tree.”
“A noble goal,” Laurent said, and for a moment his face was as soft as Damen remembered last night, unguarded and free. “And it seems your animal population loves it as well. I met a cat yesterday who seemed to be very comfortable here.”
Obviously this wasn’t surprising information to Damen, yet he still found himself a bit stunned all the same. He looked over at Laurent for any indication this was a threat, or the beginning stages of some blackmail scheme, but found nothing there but the cordial pleasantries of a visiting dignitary. Some confusion stole into his gaze as Damen continued to flounder, but that was it.
“You—you shouldn’t mention such things,” Damen said finally, his words coming to him at last. It was the same thing any other Akielon would have said in this situation, he told himself, in the exact tone any Akielon would have used.
“Mention…seeing a cat?” Laurent asked. His shoulders were tense now. Any trace of that easy familiarity was wiped away, replaced by a careful, schooled expression. His voice was cooler than when one of the kyroi had suggested he didn’t understand what a marginal tax rate was as he said, “Please excuse such a gross overstep, Exalted.”
“No, it’s just—” Damen paused. Of course Laurent wouldn’t know; he had only been here for three days, not even long enough to hear what kind of gossip the servants spread around. And that was assuming that the language barrier didn’t prevent discussion between the Veretian servants and the Akielons. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—spoken like that. I forgot you wouldn’t have known. People around here can be very superstitious.”
“Of cats,” Laurent repeated, as if repeating the offending word might alert Damen to how ridiculous it all was. “Well. If they had seen this cat it would be impossible to harbor any sort of superstition towards such a creature. He was the sweetest beast I have ever met.”
“Prince Laurent,” Damen said. His voice came out as a plea, though he could not identify any reason for it to be so. He pushed through the tangle that was squeezing his heart and said, “Have you really not heard of the Lion of Akielos?”
Laurent did not pause in their amble through the garden, did not take into account the fact that Damen’s feet felt as if they weighed a hundred pounds each right now.
“The Lion of Akielos?” he repeated, walking briskly through the dappled shade as Damen clambered to keep up. “Of course I’ve heard of it, but—” he glanced over at Damen, his glare almost accusatory. “I’ve heard of sea serpents and winged creatures that can breathe fire, too.”
“The Lion of Akielos is real,” Damen said stubbornly. “You can read first hand accounts of those who have seen him. If you find the right soldier with enough wine in his belly you can even hear it firsthand. Our library has an entire section devoted to chronicling his appearances.” A section that only the members of the royal family had access to; but Laurent didn’t need to know that.
“Real or not,” Laurent said, “I assure you the cat I befriended yesterday was no lion, so you can rest easy on the matter. He was small, like a housecat.” Damen could only let out an affronted breath, which Laurent must have taken as disbelief. “Well, perhaps slightly bigger than a normal housecat,” Laurent amended. “But he certainly wasn’t any creature of legend.”
“All I meant,” Damen said, desperately wondering how this had gotten so precarious so quickly, “was that people here believe in him. They are—superstitious. If they hear you talking about a cat, however innocently you mention it, their minds will instantly turn to the Lion. And they will assume you are in league with him.”
“In league with him?” Laurent repeated. His eyes flashed, a sparkling blue in the bright sun of the afternoon, the corner of his mouth crooked up in unrestrained glee. “Surely having a fearsome lion under my command would do nothing but improve my standing during these negotiations. Akielons value strength over anything, isn’t that correct?”
“No,” Damen said, shaking his head. Laurent’s tone had been that of a joke, but Damen answered sincerely, saying, “Strength is important to us, yes, but only because it means we can protect those who have little. Honor, courage, decency—those are more important to us than something like strength. Please, Laurent. Promise you won’t say anything.”
“I—promise,” Laurent said, his eyes wide. Whether his startled expression was due to Damen’s repeated insistence on such a seemingly small matter or because the words had come out with enough time to think them through properly, Damen had no idea. But Laurent didn’t go back on his word after a moment of contemplation and clarified, “I won’t tell anyone about the cat. If you think that the wisest course of action.”
“I do,” Damen said, relieved. Nik had been right; it was brash to have gone to Laurent in his cat form, but the crisis had been averted. Nik didn’t even need to know how narrowly they had avoided it becoming a real problem. “Thank you. Should we return to the others?”
Laurent gave his assent, and together they returned to continue their negotiations.
It was full dark out by the time Damen returned to his rooms. Negotiations had continued, punctuated by a lavish dinner. He hadn’t found another opportunity to speak to Laurent privately—there were other guests who required his attention, other men and women involved in the negotiations who were bothersome but whom required careful consideration—but he felt the weight of Laurent’s gaze on him all day. Every time he turned he caught Laurent staring back, not necessarily looking at him but at the very least looking near him, and almost always with a puzzled expression on his face.
If there had been any other opportunity to ensure that Laurent intended to keep true to his word, Damen would have taken it. Since there was not, he informed his guards he was dealing with another pain in his head, locked the door to his room, and extinguished all the lamps.
It was a dangerous thing he did, changing into his cat form without someone here to guard him, although hardly the first time he’d done it. If someone stole the collar, or stars forbid it, destroyed it—but his guards were loyal, and they obeyed him, and he was sure no one would come. No point in being reckless, though, and so he ensured that the balcony doors were securely locked and all windows barred. A small triangular window in the corner was the only one he propped open, small enough that not even a child would be able to crawl through, though it would mean a tight fit for him.
His attempt at securing his room finished, Damen crawled under his bed and unclasped his collar.
It was a hiding place that wouldn’t stand up to much scrutiny, but it was better than nothing. With his paws he managed to arrange his discarded chiton to further disguise his collar. Putting everything back on would be a hassle but again, that was a problem he would deal with later. He slipped through the window and made his way into the night.
Laurent was not in the gardens tonight. Damen’s ears pricked at the sounds of small animals rustling about, a few servants rushing between the palace and the stables, but he couldn’t pick out the soft sounds of the prince’s feet. He trotted along the balconies of the palace, keeping to the shadows whenever the light from inside threatened to illuminate him, until he finally found Prince Laurent’s balcony. The doors were open, the wind gently disturbing the curtains, drawn to keep the bugs away.
He would only watch, he told himself. See if he could hear Laurent say anything about what happened today—to his advisors, confidants, a bed partner, perhaps. Not that the rumors Damen had heard about the prince would lead him to believe the latter likely, but he kept his ears pricked for anything.
He could only hear the footsteps of one man inside the rooms. Likely it was Laurent, but the fluttering drapes kept Damen from visually confirming this. He hopped down, landing silently on the colorful tile of the balcony. He would just poke his head through. If Laurent was alone, then there was no reason to stay; he couldn’t betray any confidences if he was by himself. And all of the light was coming from inside, so there would be no way for Laurent to see him as long as he stuck to the shadows. He moved slowly, gently pushing away the curtain so that the movement wouldn’t be noticed as any different than a brush of the wind. He looked around, eyes adjusting to the brightness.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were following me.”
Damen’s eyes rose to find Laurent leaning against the far wall, his silhouette blending into the dark shadows cast by the lamps. Since there was no point in pretending he wasn’t spying, Damen trotted forward, his tail flicking up in annoyance. As if to prove that he had intended to come in the entire time Damen went straight for the expansively comfortable bed and jumped up with singular grace.
“Please, come in,” Laurent said dryly. He pushed away from the wall and walked over slowly, as if waiting to see if Damen spooked.
Damen saw no reason to move. This was his palace; he could do as he liked. He flopped down, eyes never leaving Laurent.
“You caused me quite a bit of trouble today, I’ll have you know.” Laurent continued talking as he approached the bed, moving slowly, ready to stop at the first sign that his presence wouldn’t be tolerated.
Trouble seems a bit exaggerated, Damen said.
“Mrow meooow,” he said.
“You’re not sorry, I know,” Laurent sighed. When he saw that Damen had no objections to his proximity he sat down on the bed. Damen felt the mattress shift underneath him, and he rode out the movement with grace. “I suppose it’s not your fault people here are suspicious of cats.”
In all actuality it was because of Damen that people were suspicious of cats, but that was too complex an idea to try and express via cat communication. CommuniCATion.
“The Prince was nice enough about it,” Laurent was saying now, and Damen couldn’t help but prick his ears forward. “A bit—strange, perhaps, to be so oddly concerned with you. Do you know him? Prince Damianos, I mean.”
A dangerous question. Instead of answering Damen closed his eyes and laid back on the bed.
“He’s not like my brother said he’d be,” Laurent said, reaching out to absently pet Damen’s fur. Damen purred, the rumble of it reverberating through his skull. It felt nice, to receive this sort of affection without the temptation or expectation of it turning into anything more. Laurent was speaking more to himself than Damen when he said, “Auguste told me he was…friendly. Companionable. I doubt Auguste spent much time here either sober or not completely surrounded by women, and so I suppose I expected Damianos to be much the same. But he’s…”
Laurent sighed, and flopped down on the bed.
“He’s handsome,” Laurent said, waving around his hand absently, “in that completely obvious sort of way.”
Damen frowned, as much as was possible in his current state. And what exactly is that supposed to mean? Damen asked.
“Mrow,” Damen said.
“I know, I know,” Laurent lamented. “Believe me, you don’t have to tell me twice. But he’s also just—he’s so—”
A soft knock on the door startled Damen’s breath out of him. He bolted up and then looked over at Laurent, wishing he could tell him to never mind the intrusion, that he needed to finish his sentence, that he needed to say whatever it was that he was thinking right now. Attractive? Capable? Annoying? Stupidly obvious?
Sometimes a cat?
“Hang on a moment,” Laurent called out to the servant knocking on the door, and then, looking at Damen he whispered, “I can’t let them see you.”
Damen blinked. Before he could make any sense of what Laurent was telling him to do he found himself bodily moved—gently, and yet with great purpose. Laurent stashed him under the bed, and was moving around the covers now to obscure any trace of him.
“Enter,” he called out. Judging by the way the bed moved above him Damen figured he was arranging himself in some way.
“Your majesty,” came a voice in Veretian—not one of Damen’s servants, then. “You have a visitor.”
“A visitor?” Laurent repeated. Damen moved silently to the end of the bed, trying to see if he could look out from the curtain of blankets and bedcovers that had been placed there. “It’s a bit late for visitors, don’t you think?”
“That is what I told him, your majesty,” the servant said with a hint of disapproval towards the late night guest. “But he was very adamant he speak to you now. He said it was an emergency.”
Damen had a good view of the room by now, still hidden by the fall of blankets around him. He knew his eyes might flash in the light and catch attention, and so he narrowed his vision as much as possible.
“I can’t imagine there’s any emergency happening I could possibly help with,” Laurent said, obviously annoyed. “Tell him I’m indisposed. Whoever it is, he can seek me out tomorrow—”
“It’s Kyros Nikandros, your majesty,” Nik said, striding into the room. He looked about, in all the places a rather large cat might hide, and Damen knew instantly why he was here. He retreated further underneath the bed.
“Sir!” the servant cried, torn between pushing him out of the room and not wanting to touch a man that was heavier than him by at least fifty pounds of muscle. “Your majesty, I will call the guards!”
“Don’t bother,” Laurent said. He must have made some sort of gesture because the servant startled, looking shocked, and backed away. “I’ll receive the Kyros here. As if I have any choice. And I’m sure he doesn’t mean me any harm.”
Nik at least had the decency to wear a contrite expression, although Damen couldn’t help but notice that same expression also gave him another opportunity to look in the far corner of the room. The servant, still huffing, made his exit, and then Nikandros and Laurent were alone.
“Well?” Laurent asked, his voice full of ice. “Are you going to explain why you’ve barged into my rooms at such a late hour, Kyros? What could possibly be so important that you would discard every notion of hospitality towards me and the nation I am here representing?”
Nikandros’ face was blank as he answered, unrepentant, “Have you seen a cat around here?”
Laurent’s silence was heavy. Even Damen flinched at the oppressive disbelief he could feel radiating from Laurent, and he couldn’t even see Laurent’s face. Nikandros, for his part, bore it stoically, head high as he clasped his hands behind him at parade rest.
“A…cat,” Laurent repeated, somehow managing to infuse every ounce of regret for sending the servant away into his words. “You’ve gone through all this trouble, risked my goodwill towards this negotiation, all because you’re curious as to whether or not I’ve seen a cat?”
“I wouldn’t have asked unless it was a matter of most urgency,” Nik said, shifting uncomfortably. “Believe me, I am as pleased about this as you.”
Damen wished he had a better view of Laurent, but Nik was the more immediate danger right now. Damen was certain he could make his way back to the balcony, might even be able to do so while remaining unnoticed by both parties, but he found himself eager to hear if Laurent would keep the promise he made earlier today.
“Tell me more,” Laurent said, and there was the feeling of him shifting on the bed. “This cat you’re looking for. What does it look like?”
“There’s no need for a recitation of its countenance,” Nikandros said stiffly. “They’re all nearly the same, anyway. I only ask if you’ve seen one. Recently. This night.”
Convenient that Damen was the only cat on palace grounds; other felines disliked the magic that made Damen into one of their own kind, and did not roam here.
“I’m afraid I can’t recall much that’s happened tonight besides your disastrous entrance here,” Laurent said silkily. Damen had the idea that Laurent was reclining on the bed; from the way Nik averted his gaze and blushed, he thought it likely. “But I’m fairly certain I would remember if I’d seen any cats, today or otherwise. Now. Feel free to see yourself out, thank you.”
“I’ll leave once you tell me the—the—achooo!”
Oh no. Damen knew what that meant. He’d been discovered; Nik’s eyes darted warily around the room even as they began to water and run. Laurent gave a rote blessing for the sneeze, not understanding what it signified.
“He’s here,” Nik said, advancing towards the bed. His eyes were wild; or perhaps they were just distractingly itchy. “I know he’s in here, come out you mangy little—”
Damen darted forward before Nikandros approached any closer to the bed. His sudden presence stopped Nik in his tracks, and Damen swished his tail angrily. Without a second thought he turned and jumped onto the bed in one smooth motion, standing protectively in front of Laurent.
Not one more step, Nik, Damen yowled. You’re scaring him.
“Oh. That cat,” Laurent said mildly.
“You said you hadn’t—” and Nik paused to sniff, “—seen him.”
“I said I would remember if I had seen him,” Laurent said tersely. “Which I did. I just chose not to tell you about it. It’s not my fault you assumed I meant otherwise.”
Damen felt the bed shift as Laurent backed up, and he realized how bad this would look if anyone came in to see them right now: Nikandros, advancing towards the bed with murder in his watery eyes, Laurent retreating while trying to maintain some measure of his composure, and a hissing, spitting furball in between them.
Nik, Damen warned. Back off.
To his credit Nik did stop his advance. There was no way he believed Damen capable of attacking him; Damen knew his own strength, and he would never use it on someone he considered a friend. But Nik had seen Damen return from battle in his cat form more than once, his fur soaked in blood that was not his own, and perhaps he had a glimpse of the kind of creature that many of their enemies had seen right before their heads had been swiped from their bodies with wickedly sharp claws.
“Well?” Laurent said, as Nikandros made no move besides wiping his runny nose. “You’ve seen this cat you were so desperate to see. Now I’m going to insist you get out of my rooms.”
“I will,” Nik said, sniffling. “Come on, D—cat.”
Damen didn’t move. He had no intention of leaving with Nikandros, not after this disastrous encounter had so thoroughly ruined the fragile trust that Damen had been nurturing. He needed to stay with Laurent, try to patch up whatever had been broken between them, see if there was anything he could do to repair this rift.
“I don’t think he wants to leave,” Laurent said dryly. Damen laid down on the bed to emphasize Laurent’s point, though he didn't relax his attention. “Don’t let that stop you from making a hasty exit.”
“I need him to come with me,” Nik said, glaring down at Damen as he said it. “It’s very important that he does.”
No, Damen said. He wished Nik could understand him. Leave us. I can fix this if you just give me time!
“Feel free,” Laurent said, gesturing at the meowing Damen. “Cats aren’t known for following orders, though. I would quite like to watch you pick him up. Do you think he’d try to claw your face first, or your arms?”
“He—wouldn’t scratch me,” Nikandros said, and then winced at how unconvincing it sounded. “Normally. He’s in a mood now. Because of you, I’d wager.”
“I bet he’d let me pick him up.”
It was a challenge made to both of them; Damen was astute enough to hear that in Laurent’s voice.
“No,” Nikandros said firmly, even as Laurent pushed himself off the bed. Damen didn’t move, watching Nik warily to ensure he didn’t use the movement as an opportunity to lunge forward and grab him.
“We have an accord,” Laurent said, positioning himself next to Nik. “I think he likes me.”
“There’s no doubting that,” Nik grumbled. “Listen. I know this beast, and I know he doesn’t like to be picked up—”
Damen leapt into Laurent’s outstretched arms.
Laurent caught him effortlessly. He was stronger than Damen had supposed; his cat form was quite hefty, but Laurent bore the weight as if he was no more substantial than a kitten.
“What were you saying?” Laurent asked innocently as Damen rearranged himself to achieve maximum comfort. He could hear Laurent’s heartbeat through his stiff laced shirt, and he pressed his head there, listening to the steady rhythm of it. “About him not liking to be picked up?”
“Okay, you’ve proven your point,” Nik said to Laurent, although he was looking at Damen when he said it. “Now, just give him to me—”
“I’ll go with you,” Laurent said, stepping deftly away from Nik’s grasp. “You’re intent on returning him somewhere, are you not? He seems to like me. I’ll help.”
See, Nik? Damen said cheerfully. I told you he was amenable.
Laurent and Nik looked down at the happily meowing Damen, and then back at each other. In truth Damen was quite interested to see how Nik would respond. Obviously Laurent couldn’t be asked to drop him off in the royal chambers; a visitor, especially a foreign one, would never be allowed in without Damianos’ express permission, and his guards had orders to turn everyone away. And Nik wouldn’t be so incautious as to show Laurent the hidden way into Damen’s bedroom. Even with how badly Damen had acted tonight Nik wouldn’t go as far as treason. Not right in front of Damen, at least.
“Well?” Laurent said, as Nikandros dithered. “Lead the way.”
“I—” Nik’s eyes lingered on Damen, snuggling happily in Laurent’s arms. Damen’s ears pricked as he heard a familiar sigh, one that indicated he was going to give into whatever insane plan Damen had coerced him into. “Fine. Follow me.”
They left the room. If any of Laurent's guards thought the trio strange, or had questions about what their prince was doing following a foreign emissary and carrying a cat in the middle of the night, they didn’t say anything.
Damen was busy reconsidering his previous aversion to being carried. Laurent’s arms were strong and warm, and he felt supported in a way he hadn’t previously imagined possible. Every once in a while Laurent’s thumb would idly rub against Damen’s fur, and Damen would purr and lean into the touch, opening his eyes only to look up and see Laurent’s lips curling in the slightest, tiniest smile.
The footsteps of the two humans rang around the empty halls; likely the only sound the two of them could hear, although Damen could also hear tinier, scritchier sounds of mice and other vermin if he strained his ears. Time to tell the steward that the upstairs silver closet needed to be cleaned. It was into this silence that Laurent suddenly, perhaps too loudly, asked, “What’s his name?”
“What?” Nik demanded, and then, “Who?”
“The cat,” Laurent said patiently, lifting his arms as if Nik needed the reminder that he was currently carrying the Prince of Akielos. “He must have a name.”
“I don’t—we just call him Cat,” Nik said, shifting uncomfortably.
“Now that,” Laurent said, face tilted towards Damen as if they were having a private conversation, “I don’t believe. You are not a Cat.” He looked back up at Nik. “You must call him something. Surely a distinguished Kyros such as yourself doesn’t go hunting in the middle of the night for a cat that doesn’t even have a name.”
“It’s not quite midnight yet,” Nik said pedantically. “And—I don’t know. I suppose he has a name.”
“And that name is…”
Damen could see Nik’s eyes frantically moving, as if he only needed to look hard enough to find an answer written on the floor, or the walls.
“I don’t know,” Nik admitted finally. “I call him all sorts of things, I suppose.”
“Like what?” Laurent asked, his tone innocently curious.
“‘Hey you’ is my favorite,” Nik grumbled. “‘Stop doing that’ is another.”
“I’m not sure you understand what a name is,” Laurent said patiently. “Those are things you say to a cat. None of them are names. I’m not sure why you’re being so cagey about this. What are you trying to hide?”
“I’m not hiding anything.” The answer came too fast to be believable. Damen sighed, only a tiny whoosh of air, but it was loud enough that Laurent must have heard it because he let out a small sound of amusement. Nik glared at the two of them and said, protesting, “I’m not.”
“A winning argument,” Laurent said, “but you must understand that my twisted Veretian mind is already running away with this. Perhaps the reason you’re being so sneaky is because you’ve named the cat something offensive. Something offensive to me, specifically. Cats have blue eyes when they’re young, do they not? Perhaps someone made a joke about my family’s tendency to throw blue eyed children, and the name stuck even into adulthood. ”
“That’s not—”
“Or perhaps you’ve named him something offensive in general,” Laurent said, making it sound like a concession. “And you think my delicate sensibilities will be scandalized by your crude humor.”
“Delicate sensibilities,” Nik repeated incredulously, and Damen knew he was thinking of the pet performance the Veretians had gifted to their Akielon hosts on their first visit here: a wild, hedonistic display of sensuality that had every Akielon in the room reeling in embarrassment.
“Or perhaps,” Laurent said, sounding gleeful, “his name is secret even to you. Respected kyros Nikandros, personal friend of Damianos Exalted, not trusted with the name of a household cat. How often are you left out of important decisions by the royal family? I’m sure there’s no resentment there, but it must be hard to think that Prince Damianos doesn’t respect you—”
“His name is Damen.”
The words echoed loudly. Damen’s name bounced off the marble columns and then went careening down the hall. Damen looked over at Nik, but the kyros wouldn’t meet his eye.
“Damen,” Laurent repeated slowly. “As in—”
“He’s Prince Damianos’ cat,” Nik said stiffly. “The Exalted does not have a very active imagination. And he can be quite vain, if you’ll excuse me saying so.”
Nik! Damen protested. Laurent stroked him gently, calming him. Damen settled but he still glared daggers at Nik, who would not meet his eye.
“His family,” Nik continued, “does not approve of him having this cat. It’s seen as a sign of…a sort of weakness of the mind. So your discretion about what has happened here tonight would be appreciated.”
“Appreciated,” Laurent repeated thoughtfully. “Appreciated as in, I can use it as leverage against you to secure a better rate on wool taxation in our negotiations?”
To his credit, Nik didn’t rise to the bait. He simply rolled his eyes and said, “You’ll have to take that up with the Prince, I’m afraid. I am but a lowly cat wrangler.”
“You’re right. The prince’s rooms are down that next hallway, are they not? Perhaps I can pop in right now and ask him.”
“I’m sure he’s asleep,” Nik said stiffly. “But you can try. Actually, that’s a good idea. He won’t be happy about being disturbed this late at night. And that’s assuming he’s not busy entertaining a…late night guest. Which he does quite often. Please, go ahead. I’ll come with you, if you like. Just to make sure he knows this crazy plan wasn’t my idea.”
Damen hopped down from Laurent’s arms, landing gracefully on the marble floor. They were very near his rooms, and he knew this area like the back of his paw. He took a moment to hiss at Nik, rubbed briefly against Laurent’s legs in thanks for the ride, and then raced towards the open window behind Laurent and jumped out.
He landed neatly on the small ledge that ran along the underside of the window. He knew it would be there; he had done this many times. With a speed he never could have achieved in his human form he raced along the small ledge, his paws finding easy purchase, his tail swishing back and forth as he found his balance. The small window he had used to exit the room earlier in the night allowed him back inside, and he sprinted under the bed, finding his collar there, exactly where he had left it. Getting it back on by himself proved difficult, as it always did, but eventually he managed. One moment he was a cat, with all the extra-sensory hearing and mobility that entailed, and the next he was in his human form again, naked except for his collar, his chiton shoved somewhere behind him he couldn’t reach.
He pushed himself out from under the bed and tamed his hair into submission as best he could, looking around frantically for something to wear. The pants he wore to the training ring sat in a folded pile on the table, fresh from the cleaners. He shimmied into a pair and willed his heart to stop beating so quickly, feigning a sense of sleepiness he didn’t feel. He yawned to complete his disguise, and opened the door to the hallway where he could still hear Nik and Laurent arguing.
“Nik?” he said, roughing up his voice to sound as if he’d just woken from a deep slumber. “Nik, is that you?”
The sound of voices ceased, and then two heads poked out from around the corner.
“Exalted,” Nikandros said crisply. “I’m sorry if this disturbance woke you. I was trying to warn Prince Laurent against such excessive noise—”
Laurent’s sound of outrage was eclipsed by Damen’s laughter. He walked over and put a hand against Nik’s shoulder, squeezing a little harder than was friendly. His gaze wandered to Laurent, who was staring intently at a spot behind Damen’s head.
“My cat woke me,” Damen said, the lie tripping over his tongue with just a bit of hesitancy. “Jumped right on my chest as I was sleeping. I assume he was out causing trouble, and you had some hand in bringing him back?”
“I did,” Laurent said, his cheeks beginning to redden. “But he wasn’t any trouble. I carried him here. I—think he likes me.”
“He must,” Damen said gravely. “If you saw him at all, he must trust you. He doesn’t let just anyone handle him.”
“Ugh,” Nik said, and then made a very hasty bow that somehow managed to be slightly offensive. “I’m going to bed. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow. And until the Veretian envoy leaves, I fear. Prince Laurent. Exalted.”
Neither Damen nor Laurent turned to watch him go; after a moment the sound of his footsteps ceased, and they were alone.
“Would you like an escort back to your rooms?” Damen asked.
“No,” Laurent said quickly, his eyes flicking down to Damen’s bare chest before coming back to rest again on that spot just behind Damen’s ear. “I should—I know the way back. I wouldn’t want to—I fear I’ve already interrupted your night.”
“You interrupted nothing,” Damen said softly, enjoying the way Laurent’s eyes widened as he leaned forward. “I had only just retired. Over the past few days I’ve found it necessary to get a good night’s sleep without any distractions so that I’m well-rested for our arduous negotiations in the morning.”
“Yes,” Laurent murmured. “I wouldn’t want to make anything more difficult than it already is. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Goodnight, Laurent.”
A smile quirked up the corner of Laurent’s mouth, and he replied, “Goodnight, Damianos. And—say goodnight to Damen for me, as well.”
After a brief flash of confusion that thankfully kept him from blurting out anything incriminating, he said, “Right. The cat. Damen, right. Of course I will. Thank you again.”
The tease of a smile blossomed into the real thing, and for a moment Damen was struck dumb by how beautiful the man in front of him was. He nearly gave in to the impulse to ask him to stay, to ask him to come and look over the gardens on his balcony with him, something, anything to prevent him from leaving; but Laurent was already turning, walking back to his own rooms, and the opportunity passed him by.
The next days were exceedingly busy. Likely by design, Damen thought, his brows creasing as Nik saddled him with enough suddenly important budget decisions to keep him from sleeping for the next three days. And that was in between the planned excursions designed to entertain their Veretian guests—hunting parties, forays into Ios’ famed bazaar, performances from their best actors at the amphitheater by the sea. He found little time or excuse to be alone with Laurent again, but somehow they found themselves together more often than not on these outings. Damen could feel the first stirrings of a tenuous friendship growing between them, although it certainly didn’t keep Laurent from squeezing out every advantage he could during the negotiations.
“He’s playing you,” Nik said to him darkly as their party made their way to the cliffs overlooking the Ionian Sea, where lunch had already been set up for them. “I know you might not realize it since it’s normally you taking up that mantle, but it’s true.”
“Are you worried he’ll offer me sexual favors in order to get a more favorable agreement on the price of wool?” Damen asked, nudging Nik with his elbow.
Nik only grumbled. Doubtless he thought it not beyond Laurent’s questionable morals to try such a thing; even more likely he thought Damen susceptible to agreeing to it. But over the past few days Damen had come to have a better sense of who Laurent was, with a better understanding of the motivations behind the decisions he made. It was like watching the graceful movements of a large stone thrown by a trebuchet, and only afterwards realizing the complexity of the weights and pulleys and systems and levers going on underneath that allowed such a movement.
“At least I won’t have to worry about our entire economy being destabilized because of one blond man for the next few hours,” Nik said. They crested a rolling hill to see the ocean spread out in all her glory in front of them, sparkling blue against the ceaseless blue sky. Damen tried not to think about the similarity of such natural beauty with Laurent’s eyes, the way they flashed when he was angry, or amused, and failed miserably.
“Why won’t we have to worry about that for the next few hours?” Damen asked, distracted. Servants rushed around underneath the small tent set up for their repast, though everything looked to be quite in order already from what Damen could see.
“Oh. Prince Laurent excused himself from lunch today,” Nik said, looking over at Damen curiously. “I thought you had been told. A headache, his servants said.”
A headache. Damen had seen Laurent at breakfast that morning, sandwiched in between his Keeper of the Privy Purse and the Royal Horsemaster, his blue eyes glinting with mischief whenever he caught Damen’s gaze from across the table. They hadn’t spoken—their breakfast companions had been loud, and possibly still drunk from the night before—but Damen had, regardless, felt the unmistakable thrill of being challenged.
A challenge that only now made any sense to him.
Without giving himself time to consider the ramifications of such a decision he turned his horse, putting heels to her flank. He heard Nik call out after him, and although he couldn’t make out any words the tone was one of begrudging acceptance, with only the mildest hint of annoyance. But there was no sound of impending hoofbeats coming to drag him back, no hand at the back of his collar keeping him from returning to the palace. Nikandros would make polite excuses for him, and as long as the food was good—and Damen was certain that it would be—very few people would likely even care.
He reached the palace in just a few minutes. It took him a few more to find where Laurent had gone off to, but apart from the obviously fake excuse he had given Nikandros no further effort had been made to continue the ruse of being sick. When he was told by a startled looking servant that Prince Laurent had inquired after visiting the library and had not yet, as far as he was aware, emerged from there, Damen picked up his pace. The visit was likely innocent enough; the palace at Ios had an extensive and beautiful library, and any foreign visitor would be shown its grandeur as a matter of course. But there was only one thought in his head, and it had nothing to do with the stately columns or extensive selection of books: Why had he mentioned that their library had exclusive works on the Lion of Akielos? Laurent would surely want to see it, and when he realized that such records were kept under guard and only accessible to the royal family he would—of course he would wonder why.
The large oak door leading into the library was cracked open, and Damen slipped through the small opening.
The library had always been a quiet refuge for him. Little light was let in, to save the books from being damaged by the sun, with small windows far above providing just enough illumination to not trip over anything. Damen’s nighteye had always been better than most, although certainly nothing like he enjoyed in his other form, and he stalked around, looking for any indication that someone else had been in here. He saw nothing. No book out of place, no corner of carpet disturbed. If he took off his collar he would be able to find Laurent more easily with his extra cat senses, but that was too dangerous to do here, now, where anyone might stumble upon him or find his collar unattended.
He finally found Laurent in the last section of the library he would have thought to check. The northern side of the building was home to a small reading area, littered with tables and chairs and lights fashioned from glass that reflected the sun. The focus was large enough—and diluted enough—that damage to the books wasn’t a risk, and it was here Laurent sat, sprawled out on one of the lounging couches with books littered all around him.
“Is lunch over already?” Laurent asked, not looking up from his book.
“I see your head feels better,” Damen said levelly.
“Oh, I felt much better almost immediately,” Laurent said, turning around so he could look at Damen. “Silly of me to think it would last all day, really.”
“Laurent,” Damen said.
“But look what I found,” Laurent said, gesturing at the books around him. The shape and color of them hit Damen with a pang of nostalgia; he didn’t need to see the titles to recognize nearly every one of them.
“These are children’s books,” he said, picking up the closest one. The Clever Fox; an illustration of a sneaky fox peering out from behind a well graced the cover in gorgeous gilt detail.
“I can hear the disapproval in your voice,” Laurent said airily. “But you shouldn’t judge me. I can speak Akielon decently enough, but it’s a bit harder for me to read. Besides, I like the pictures. See?”
He moved the book to show Damen the picture he had been looking at: a hand drawn illustration of a giant beast of legend looming over a hero ten times smaller. Damen knew the story by heart; the people of the quiet port village of Ephyria terrorized by the giant beast who lived there, slain by the brave and noble Leonidas.
“It’s a lovely picture,” Damen said, and then, “If we leave now we can still join the others for lunch.”
“Oh,” Laurent said, putting a hand to his head. “I feel—I think my headache is coming back.”
“All right,” Damen said gently. “We take the comfort of our guests seriously, you know. If you didn’t want to participate in the outings we’ve prepared, all you had to do was say so.”
“Where’s the fun in that? And besides,” Laurent said as Damen sighed loudly, “I needed everyone else to attend those outings so that I could sneak away without being noticed.”
“I noticed,” Damen said.
“Yes,” Laurent said patiently. “Which was the second part of my plan. I needed you to follow me.”
Damen’s heart was beating very fast. He said, carefully, “And why did you need that?”
Laurent swept his hands over the books in front of him, the movement encompassing the entirety of the mess he had made. “What was your favorite book when you were a child?”
Damen blinked. He realized it wasn’t what he had expected Laurent to say, and then realized that in all actuality he had no earthly idea what he had expected. He glanced again at the books scattered across the lounging chair, in Laurent’s lap, the tables nearby. He was sure that he’d read them all as a child—or his nana had—but one in particular caught his eye, and almost unthinkingly he picked up the book with a worn purple cover. The title on the front was nearly rubbed off with age, but his fingers remembered the form of the letters, and he traced them absently before remembering himself and handing it to Laurent.
Laurent took it from him, gently cradling the spine. “Hektor’s Book of Magic and Legends,” he read, his Akielon a bit stilted but passable enough. He opened the cover and flipped through a couple of pages when suddenly he smiled, turning the book to show Damen. “Is this you?”
Damen looked at the scribbling underneath Laurent’s finger and he shrugged, too embarrassed to meet Laurent’s eye.
“I must have been learning to write,” he said, staring at the shaky outlines of his own name. He had no memory of doing that, or any idea why he would have thought this the place to practice such a thing. “I’m sure I got into trouble for doing that. My nana didn’t like me treating these books badly.”
“Your nana read to you?” Laurent asked, turning the pages carefully so as not to disturb the delicate paper. The illustrations were smaller than Damen remembered.
“Yes,” Damen said, and even though he was sure Laurent knew such things, he said, “My mother died giving birth to me.”
Laurent paused, the book falling open in his hands.
“I’m sorry,” he said. It sounded genuine, and his eyes were very blue. “It must have been hard to grow up like that.”
The collar around Damen’s neck itched, and his fingers burned with a desire to touch it. He stilled himself until the urge to do so passed.
“A lot of people raised me,” Damen said eventually. “As I’m sure was the case for you. Princes hardly have what most people would consider a normal upbringing.”
“True,” Laurent said, though he didn’t seem to be willing to expound on the matter. “But your father? Surely he read something to you.”
“My father had no use for children before they were old enough to hold a sword in their hands,” Damen said, laughing. “He didn’t care for these books. Likely if he were somehow forced to read to a three year old, he’d bring a military treatise and joyfully continue reading it well after the child had fallen asleep or wandered away.”
It was a joke, as any person who knew Theomedes would have known. But Laurent didn’t laugh. He frowned, brows knitting together in deep concentration, and he turned back to the book.
Damen approached the window and looked out to the gardens beyond. His childhood had been rough, yes, but a child of royalty could hardly expect anything else. And on top of that, his situation was made even more difficult by the collar around his neck; sometimes Damen felt as if it was the only part of him that his father could see, a lodestone that rendered the rest of him unworthy of consideration.
“Oh,” said Laurent, breaking Damen out of his spiral. “Look. Some more drawings from little Damianos.”
He flipped the book around to show Damen. In the margins, along the top of the page, the bottom, every free area, were scribbles. Some were recognizable in their depictions, while others were not; however, it was obvious that they all shared the same relentless pursuit of a singular object.
“You must have been fond of cats as a child,” Laurent said, casually flipping through the pages. “Or—maybe you just liked this story? It seems to be about a cat.”
Damen had infiltrated an enemy camp, once, by climbing up the branches of a dead tree. One wrong move would have sent him hurtling to the ground, branches snapping and cracking as they fell, making the others aware of his presence; even Damen’s supernatural prowess wouldn’t have been able to save him from such a crush. Irrelevant in the end, as Damen had been successful, and yet still an incredibly dangerous gamble.
Compared to this, it was nothing.
“I was hardly the only child in the palace,” Damen said, aiming for a tone of gentle rebuke and nearly achieving it. “Just because I wrote my name on the first page doesn’t mean there weren’t others who also helped deface the book.”
“But you said this was your favorite book, right?” Laurent said. “When I asked you a moment ago. This is the one you picked out.”
“The cover seemed familiar,” Damen said. After a hesitation that lasted a moment too long he shrugged. “But I really don’t remember. I might have been mistaking it for something else. Should we return to the main hall? The others will be back soon.”
“There’s lots of stories in here,” Laurent said, flipping through the short chapters, pausing not to look at the beautifully hand drawn and colored illustrations throughout, but instead studying each scribbled attempt of a cat that Damianos, as a child, had drawn. “And they all seem to be about magic. Witches and sorcerers and curses and prophecies.”
“I would expect nothing less from a book about magic and legends,” Damen said dryly. “If you prefer, we have a very large non-fiction section of the library. I can show you.”
“No, it’s just—they’ve all been about that,” Laurent said, gesturing at the mess of books in front of him. “This one, yes—I can read that much Akielon, thank you—but every other book I’ve picked up has been the same. All of them are either about a child getting cursed, a child getting prophesied about being cursed, or a child going on an adventure to learn about how to curse someone who cursed them.”
“I told you that Akielons were a superstitious people,” Damen said, frowning at Laurent’s succinct appraisal of the literature around him. “You would be hard pressed to find anyone in this country who doesn’t believe in some form of magic.”
“And you? What do you believe, Prince Damianos?”
He should have expected it, really. Looking back now he could see the careful ways in which Laurent had, steadily and with a surety of purpose, led them to this exact nexus of conversation. A week ago Damen would have credited it to Laurent wanting more ammunition to use against him during their negotiations; now, he thought that motive unlikely.
“I am an avatar of my people,” Damen said, making a sweeping gesture with his hands. “What they believe, I believe also. It’s not my place for me to tell them they are wrong.”
“That,” Laurent said, setting down the book in front of him so that he could focus the full force of his disappointment at Damen, “is a very diplomatic answer. Next time I want to ask you a question I’ll just submit a formal request to your steward.”
“Just because it wasn’t the answer you wanted to hear doesn’t make it any less true.”
Laurent stood up and set himself in a spot that, to Damen’s increasing alarm, blocked any easy exit. They were nearly at a height, though Damen had the slightest advantage, and he thought, ridiculously: He must be taller than Auguste.
“The answer I wanted to hear,” Laurent said, exquisite blue eyes trained on Damen’s face, “was not the diplomatic one, or the polite one or the most sensible one. I wanted to hear what you thought. You,” he clarified, poking Damen’s chest with one fine finger. “Not a prince, not a treaty organizer, not a brother of a prince or a son of a king but a human being. A human being who is standing right in front of me.”
Laurent’s touch—barely light enough for Damen to feel the pressure of through his chiton—was enough to nearly topple him over, and he swayed precariously on his feet. Easier to find balance with four, he thought, and then: human being, half the time.
“I—yes,” Damen said. He hadn’t even meant to say it; hadn’t realized he was saying anything until it was already out of his mouth. Laurent’s presence was like a magnet in front of him, pulling him close, and Damen found himself leaning forward, down, so that Laurent’s gaze was even with his own. “I believe magic is real, yes. In fact, I’m certain of it.”
And surely it was some sort of evil magic that made him admit that much, even as he watched the corners of Laurent’s mouth twitch, threatening to unfurl into a full smile, and knew that under an attack such as that he would have divulged every state secret he had.
“And you?” Damen went on, breathlessly. “Childhood stories aside. Do you believe magic is real?”
“I didn’t,” Laurent said, and then Damen reeled as the full force of Laurent’s smile was turned on him, a wicked bombardment of charm and wit and beauty that obliterated every single defense he had ever created for himself. “But I’m beginning to.”