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Will he send for him?

But he doesn’t. When night falls, Cook gives Lyr a bowl of mutton stew and some bread. It tastes good and his body aches from the day’s work.

He is allocated a spare bunk in the servants' hall where some of the other male servants are sitting up and playing cards and dice, drinking cups of ale or something bright green from small, squat glasses. None of them speak to Lyr. But he’s so tired, all he can do is fall into his bed. It’s narrow and hard. He thinks of the small cot in the cabin on Atticul’s ship.

He thinks of Damon taking off his shirt and holding him. He thinks of the foribunda humming through him.

He thinks of how much he wanted Damon to take him.

He thinks of how no one would have known if Damon had done it.

But Damon refused him even when he begged.

And somehow that makes Lyr desire Damon far more than if Damon had made love to him.

7

DAMON

Damon left Lyr sleeping and rode from Attar docks for Sanglora as soon as the Azuria Ascendant docked at first light.

He coaxes the anonymous brown horse he hired from the docks up through the narrow winding streets of the city. Past the temples and the markets.

He knows Attar well, but he does not feel like he has come home. Where is he truly at home except at war?

When Emperor Selim offered Damon his own manor, he did not expect it to be in Attar. He expected a place in Ceruleum or one of the further territories of the empire.

He would not have chosen to live here. Here, he is a stranger. A stranger to his manor house and most of his servants. A stranger to Attar.

He does not know Attar, but Attar knows him. He is very aware he has a reputation here and in the whole of Azuria. Prince Rafus’s eldest bastard, The One Man Army, feted hero and rumoured sinner, but on an unmarked horse hired at the docks, with no entourage and a hooded cloak, he slips through the busy streets unnoticed.

He arrives at Sanglora, to shouts of recognition and a hasty assemblage of his servants. He sends Kres to take a cart to the docks and collect his spoils. He makes sure to tell him to find and fetch Lyr and set him to work in the kitchens.

He shouldn’t have left Lyr, but he was sleeping sweetly and he couldn’t bear the shame of escorting him into the manor himself with all the gossip that would have ignited. Easier to have him sent straight to the kitchens.

Perhaps if Damon tries he can forget Lyr is even there.

That would be the simplest thing to do, although not a simple thing to do at all.

He also has his wife to consider. He does not wish to shame her. Although sometimes it seems inevitable for a man with a weakness such as his. The thought of that, of his sin staining her, weighs heavy on his heart. He should never have taken a bride. He knows it. A man of honour would have refused.

He finds Inez in her solar, with her handmaidens. When she sees him she stands up, shocked and delighted, dropping her needlework onto the rug.

Inez is a fine wife. She is of high birth and very beautiful. Twenty-two summers with fair skin that shows the roses in her cheeks. Her hair is spun gold. This morning, she wears pale blue. A rich gown of silk with a golden halter around her neck and a golden chain at her waist. And before he crosses the threshold of the solar, she has run into his arms.

He feels filthy as he embraces her. Steeped in blood and death and sin. Too wretched to touch her. But she is embracing him as if he is as pure as she is.

She kisses his cheek, “Husband,” and he allows it, but quickly pulls away.

“Fair wife. I am finally home,” he says, stepping back enough to give her a slight bow.

“We heard that Pellex fell,” she says, “You have completed your mission. Selim will delight in you, more now than ever before.” She moves closer as if to kiss him on the mouth.

“Dear wife,” Damon says, stopping her with a hand on her slender upper arm. “I am joyful to see you too. It has been a long time since our wedding night, waiting to return to your bed. But first I must bathe. I cannot let you touch me while I am so drenched in war.”

Inez smiles and bows her head. “Of course, my love. The baths have been made ready for you.”

Damon takes his leave. He makes his way down to the baths on the lower floors. This house is big. Too big in truth. He can scarcely remember the route from Inez’s solar to the baths.