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“Yes, Master. Make an animal of me. Corrupt me with your sin,” Lyr says, as with his other hand, Lyr touches Damon’s chest, enjoying the feel of it. Last night, in the moonlight, Lyr had seen Damon naked. Damon’s body is so beautiful. His muscles and power make Lyr weak. His cock is big and Lyr cannot chase the memory of it inside him from his mind. He is drunk on Damon Darekul.

Damon carefully takes Lyr’s wrist and moves his hands away. He steps back, “But now,” he says, “you must leave me. You must wait. That is my command now, as your Master. I will not bring you to this room again. You will return to the kitchens. You will resume your duties under Tavi. We will be as we were, however, we will both know, our future is assured.”

Lyr does as he is bid. He is a kitchen slave, a scullion, just as he was before. Once again his days are long and full of hard work. But his heart is light. He thinks often about what Opeth told him about fate, about Jareleezi’s Gods and how, right or wrong, he should just enjoy the time he has.

Vashti is far from Ismagaar. Perhaps the visions they sent Jareleezi truly were wrong. If he is meant to be the thing that leads Damon to Ismagaar, he doesn’t see how that can happen when all he is doing is taking him further away.

The days pass and Damon keeps his word to stay away. Lyr rarely sees him and when he does, it’s a glimpse of him as he talks with Tavi, or takes a horse from the stables.

The entire staff is alive with the news of the Hero’s Gala, that their Master will receive the Order of Azuria and be made Warden of Vashti. Most of the household will be moving to Felgrace, some will stay behind to run Sanglora.

Mina is thrilled to find out that both she and Lyr will be taken to Felgrace. “I have heard it is the most beautiful palace in the empire,” she says one evening as they lie on the grass, drinking bitter argent. Mina does not procure any pearl tonic now Kres is gone and she is not able to take advantage of his generosity. “It overlooks Miracle Lake. They say the waters are magical. Two hundred years ago, King Damon had it built to be his summer residence, but he spent all his time there in the end. Some say he became addicted to the powers of the lake water, but he was not strong enough to hold its magic. And it drove him mad.”

Lyr shivers. A king with Damon’s name, Damon’s ancestor, going mad in Felgrace. Surely that is an ill omen.

Lyr has not forgotten his suspicions about Atticul. As the days pass he worries that Damon’s plan will not go as smoothly as he wishes.

Damon has an enemy in the Rose Court, Lyr is sure of it. And this enemy is not Atticul, this enemy is someone far cleverer.

Someone Damon does not suspect.

The night before Damon’s Gala at the Rose Palace, Lyr decides to do something dangerous and bold. When his duties are done for the day, he leaves the servants' hall and takes the stairs up to the manor, an action he is forbidden from doing without permission.

He makes his way to Damon’s bedchamber and knocks on the door.

Damon’s deep voice bids him enter. He steps inside, heart beating hard with a mixture of fear and lust.

Damon is sitting on a wooden chair beside his terrace. When he sees Lyr he sets down his book and stands up, stepping away from the chair where he might be visible from the grounds.

“Lyr!” he says, his voice shocked.

Lyr closes the door behind him.

“Lyr,” Damon says more sternly. “You must not be here.”

“I am sorry, Master.” Lyr's breath is catching. He is sure Damon is about to command him from the room. But he has to stay. “I need to ask you something. I swear to you that it is important.”

“Lyr, what is important is that you trust me. Tomorrow I leave for the Rose Palace. When I return in three days, preparations will begin in earnest for the move to Vashti. You have waited so long, Lyr, and I am sorry, but if you can just wait a few more days we will have everything we could wish for.”

“Damon, I want that, you know I do. But I have concerns about your trip to the Rose Palace. Please, may I speak with you?”

Damon’s eyes flick to the closed door at Lyr’s back. But he gestures to the entrance to the inner chamber. Damon’s bedchamber. “Very well, but you cannot stay long.”

Lyr walks into Damon’s bedchamber. The small space is almost filled by the large bed covered by the same wolfskin cover Damon had in his tent in Jur-Mattan. That night in the tent, even then, Lyr had ached for Damon to touch him and Damon had not. It seems like so long ago. But so familiar. That seems to be his life again now, aching for Damon to touch him and Damon not touching him. But far worse now he knows how that touch feels.

He sits down on the bed. Damon follows. He sits in the room’s single wooden chair, facing Lyr.

“I am not certain you will be made Warden of Vashti as you expect,” Lyr says.

Damon shakes his head. “Lyr, you are wrong. I have assurances from Selim and Vindar.”

“And you trust them?”

“Of course I trust them. Selim is my uncle and Vindar is married to my sister. They are my family.”

“Atticul is your family.”

Damon shakes his head. He is smiling. “And Atticul is toothless now. His only way to attack me, my only weakness, is out of his grasp. He cannot take me down just as he could not take the Amber Blade from me.”