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Damon climbs onto the cot behind Lyr. He slides his arms around Lyr’s body. He lets himself feel it, the warmth of pressing close to another person, the scent of Lyr’s skin, Lyr’s sweat and the sharp odour of the foribunda. Lyr sighs and presses his ass back against Damon’s breeches.

Damon’s hard. That can’t be helped.

“You’re big,” Lyr says, in a soft voice, as if he dare not say it louder. “I want you inside me.”

“No,” Damon says firmly. “What did she want with you? ”

“Who?”

“Queen Jareleezi. I know you must know something of what she did with you?”

Lyr rolls over in Damon’s arms to face him. His expression is desperate, lips parted, eyes dark. Through panting breaths he says, “Jareleezi wants to take Azuria back in the name of her ancestors. She hates the Dareks. She cursed the name of King Sarelik Darek, who took their land from them. She would have hated you. And your brothers. All of you.”

“The Hevelikar were corrupt. When Sarelik led the revolution the people of Azuria followed him. The Hevelikar were letting people starve.”

“People always starve.”

“Not like that. There was no failed harvest. Azuria has always been a rich and fertile land. But the Hevelikar were cruel and greedy. They taxed people unfairly, their enforcers were savage. The people rose up in the name of Zai and put Sarelik on the throne…” Damon tails off. Lyr clearly isn’t listening to him. He’s grinding his own hard cock against Damon’s.

“Damon,” Lyr whines, “please, I can’t. Fuck me. Take me, please, do it roughly. I need it. Hold me down. Hurt me if it gives you pleasure. Do anything you want.”

Damon takes a breath. His head is swimming with desire. He forces it away. “Did Jareleezi use you for magic rituals? Is she using magic to try and destroy Azuria?”

“She told me the Hevelikar are the only ones who can protect Azuria.”

“Protect it from what?”

“I don’t know. Something bad. Something terrible will come and the Hevelikar need to be ready. She is getting ready. I’m part of it. You’re part of it.”

Damon frowns. Lyr is growing delirious. “This is what Jareleezi told you?”

“Yes. She didn’t tell me exactly. Not really. She never told me things, but I listened. Please let me pleasure you. Kiss me again.” Lyr moans something in Magaar as he surges forward and smashes his lips to Damon’s. Damon should resist, but he doesn’t. He opens his mouth. He lets Lyr’s tongue touch his own. It’s so sweet he wants to cry.

No battle he’s ever fought has been as hard as this one. This battle with his own heart.

He lets the kiss go on a moment before he finds strength in himself. He pushes Lyr off and holds him down on the cot. Lyr feels shaky in Damon’s arms. He can’t answer any more questions about Jareleezi or the runes on his body. Damon knows he isn’t going to make sense for much longer.

He rolls Lyr over to face the wall again and holds him, pressing up against the back of his body. He looks at the hundreds of runes all over Lyr’s back. Were all of these branded onto his skin?

“Shush,” Damon says, “shush now.”

“Please kiss me again,” Lyr says. “Meru, Damon. Meru, Akai.”

Damon shakes his head. Instead, he says the first line of All the Roses Die in broken, clumsy Magaar, “The roses raise their faces to the sun.”

Lyr whimpers in his arms.

Damon says the line again. The last two words have a rhythm to them. “Karaa,” he says, “Juzu karaa karu.”

“Karaach,” Lyr says, making a sound at the back of his throat. He recites the whole line ending, “Juzu karaach karu.” But then he whines, the foribunda hitting him in another wave. He arches back to grind against Damon. “Please,” he says, “please, take me, I know you want to. Who would know? Make love to me.”

“It is a crime,” Damon says quietly. “I made a vow.”

“Not a crime. Not here.”

“We can’t,” Damon says. “Not like this. It will pass soon, I promise.” Gently, in Magaar again, he whispers, “All day they drink the sun’s rays like honeywine. But the night must always come. All the roses die in their beds. They never drink the sun when they are dead.” He pauses. “The final two lines, the new ones, what were they?”

In Magaar, Lyr says, “Their petals rot into the earth to rest with the demon king as he sleeps in the soil forever. Their death is permanent, but his is not. The demon king will rise.”