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All through the afternoon as Lyr fetches and carries and works and cleans, he thinks of the kiss Damon pressed to his lips, the wild sweet taste of yearning behind it and of Damon spending, thinking of him.

13

DAMON

As Damon makes ready for the feast his head aches. He dresses finely in an outfit Inez has selected. White breeches and a sleeveless white shift, with a jerkin over it of leather burnished with gold. White and gold are the colours of Surrus. The pale colours emphasise the tone of his skin. The garments are very fine, cut close to his body, and leaving his muscular arms bare the way he prefers.

When he sees himself in the polished glass in his bedchamber, he is surprised how noble he looks.

Inez knocks on the door and when he bids her come inside she takes a moment, admiring him. She is dressed in a gown of heavy gold silk, cut low at the front and back and with a skirt that drops to her ankles in strips of fabric that part around her bare legs as she moves. Her gold curls are piled on top of her head in a style Damon has not seen before. As she comes close, he touches it. “I’ve not seen you wear your hair this way before, wife.”

Inez smiles. “It is the latest fashion. It took two handmaids half a day to get it exactly right.”

He runs his hands over the woven braids. She moves closer, stretching up on her toes to press a kiss to his lips.

Inez is beautiful and sweet, but when she kisses him, Damon thinks of the kiss he shared with Lyr in the grove, straddling Lyr, pinning him against the tree at his back, his lips on Lyr’s lips. Fire in his belly. Want in his blood. In his cock. How good it was, how right it felt, and hates his betrayal. He knows Inez deserves a man more honourable than him. A man who is not planning to take Lyr to Vashti and make him a real pleasure slave.

These are not honourable actions, he knows. An honourable man, a faithful man would tell Selim he has discovered all that Lyr knows of Jareleezi and let that be an end to it.

But what then would become of his sweet Lyr? Lyr who makes him laugh and feel such a wild leap of joy in his heart whenever he sees his face. If he admitted Lyr had nothing more to tell him, he would have no reason to be allowed to keep him. Selim and the Rose Court would insist he hand him over for disposal. Unless they still believed he had information. Then it would be torture. What would they do when they saw those runes that cover his skin?

Damon escorts Inez downstairs and out onto the terrace, warm in the late summer evening. The terrace is thronged with people dressed in white and gold, already drinking and revelling. The tables are piled with more food than Damon has ever seen. He is a rich man. And here is his wealth on display.

The grove beyond is decorated too, with flower garlands and candles. Deeper into the grove, braziers are set, ready to be lit as the light fades. The arbours and arches are draped with white flowers.

One of the moments Damon has been dreading the most happens early on. His heralds announce, “Prince Atticul, Heir Second, General Paramount of the Imperial Army, Duke of Fanost, the Hope of Azuria.”

Damon has no idea why Atticul had insisted on attending this event, but Damon had no right to refuse him. With a reluctant heart, Damon goes to greet his brother and his entourage.

“Brother Prince,” Damon says with a deferent nod.

Atticul responds with, “Master Damon. At last, I get to see Sanglora. Your gardens are very fine.”

“Thank you. To be Master of Sanglora is a great honour. Let me show them to you,” Atticul nods his ascent and Damon leads him along the gravel path towards the rose garden.

“Being here with you makes me think of summers in the Rose Palace,” says Atticul. “Taking our lessons in those fine gardens.”

Damon nods. The Rose Palace had been a magical place to grow up. Endless days with Atticul and Lukas and sweet Ferra. Well-fed and warm and educated. Rafus had been more kind to him than he had any need to. “How is our father?” Damon says.

“He is happy, I believe. He seems settled,” Atticul says.

Damon understands ‘settled’ to mean that Rafus is not overtly courting any women who are not his wives.

“Does he still hope for a third wife?”

“Doroth Zain says no. He claims his second wife should never have been granted, because of his adultery. With your mother.”

Damon nods. If Rafus had not been granted leave to marry his second wife he would have no legitimate heirs. “He has stated he would have let the Darek line die?”

“Zai’s will,” says Atticul, easily.

They loop around, past a bed of roses and walk back towards the house. All the Roses Die, Damon thinks. The light is fading fast. Servants are lighting more candles all over the terrace and the metal braziers leading into the grove will soon be bright with dancing flames.

“How is your Juran whore?”

Softly Damon says, “I believe you asked Emperor Selim to have him removed from my household.”

“I only fear for your soul, brother.”