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“I feel good,” says Damon, sounding unconcerned. “You worry too much. I want you. You cannot refuse me, you’re my slave.”
He leans in for another kiss, but before their lips meet, Endrew comes lurching over. He has his own silver cup of pearl tonic. “Brother,” he says, embracing Damon, “I have missed you wildly.” He kisses Damon’s cheek. “Should I get you another drink?”
Lyr remembers that it was Endrew who gave them these drinks. Endrew passed Damon this cup. Why would Endrew drug his brother?
Damon glances into Endrew’s cup. “Neat pearl tonic, brother?” he says. “Don’t you want some calcis in that?”
Endrew laughs. “All the calcis is gone. Someone drank it. I am forced to drink it like this.” He makes a face. “It’s bitter.” He twists away from Damon and prods Lyr’s belly. Lyr flinches as Endrew continues, “I’m so glad you kept this slave. I can see he makes you happy.” He looks back at Damon, his expression guileless. “So you really are sly? I always thought Atticul was lying.”
“He’s not lying,” Damon says plainly.
“So what of Inez?”
Damon looks down. “Inez will want for nothing. She is my wife.”
Endrew looks like he wants to ask more about this, but before he can, Atticul comes swaggering over to them, an arm around Opeth’s waist. “Bastard, you seem happy. I suppose you have me to thank for your lover here.” He flicks at the hem of Lyr’s shirt. “You and I both found pleasure in the conquest of Pellex. Shame about yours, Endrew.” Atticul nods his head toward the curtain Razelii and Trysta are behind. “Sly fucking is clearly a very popular form of depravity in Jur-Mattan.”
“Don’t be churlish,” Endrew says. “I do not mind it. Trysta served me well. She deserves her pleasure as much as any soldier. Without her, I would have died in Ik-Sundal. The advance was bloody and cruel. Our Imperial Army is much depleted without General Damon.”
Atticul makes a soft sound and looks at Damon. “Really? You miss our great hero? Our One Man Army?”
Endrew laughs. “Of course I do.”
“Perhaps you should suck his cock then,” says Atticul. “He’d enjoy that I am sure.”
Damon has not said anything for a while, Lyr had thought it was because he was so intoxicated. But when Atticul says that, Lyr feels Damon’s body tense. Usually around Atticul and his stupid taunts, Damon keeps a firm control on himself. Will he do that now? Lyr has already witnessed how little control Damon seems to have of himself. Could he do something stupid?
Really stupid?
Does someone want him to do something stupid?
What if Damon attacked Atticul? Even killed him. That would make Endrew heir second and Damon would probably be executed. Lyr looks at Endrew’s sweet face. He can’t be behind this, surely?
But what is Damon capable of? What could he end up doing if he lost control of himself? He killed those two bodymen of Atticul’s with his bare hands, unarmed. Lyr remembers that dagger on Damon’s ankle and moves slightly, putting himself in between Damon and Atticul. As he does so, he exchanges a glance with Opeth. Opeth smiles and turns to Endrew, “Perhaps you should find a whore to entertain you, my prince,” she says in her most seductive, musical tone.
“I tried,” says Endrew. “The one I wanted said I was too deep in my cups for her to take my coin because I would surely fall asleep with my face buried in her sweet cunt.” He laughs.
Atticul sneers. “Show this whore to me,” he says. “How dare she refuse you, you are a Prince of Azuria.”
Opeth strokes Atticul’s chest. “Let me take your brother. I am the finest whore here. Surely a prince should have the best.”
This seems to appeal to Atticul’s vanity in just the right way. Lyr is not surprised. He has seen Opeth’s skills before.
“Yes,” says Atticul, “why not? Sweetpea, try the very best. My own concubine. The greatest whore in Attar.”
Opeth steps forward, smiling sweetly. She takes Endrew by the hand and leads him behind one of the glittering gauze curtains.
When they are gone, Atticul smirks at Damon. “So, now you are about to receive Selim’s favour, are you going to fuck your invert right in front of me?”
Damon raises an eyebrow. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Atticul doesn’t answer this, instead, he looks at Lyr and says, “Tell me, slave, how does my bastard brother’s cock taste?”
Lyr swallows. He can feel the danger in the air rising every time Atticul speaks. “Why would you want to know that, Your Highness?” he says warily.
“I wonder whether the Darek seed has a distinct flavour. I’ll tell you what, get on your knees. Sample mine so you can tell us.” Atticul’s hands are on the front of his breeches.
Damon makes a low growling noise at the back of his throat like a possessive animal. “Stop this now, Atticul,” he says in a rumble of a voice that goes straight to Lyr’s cock. If Damon had his sword, Lyr is sure he would have drawn it.
