Page 5

Tobi raises a brow. “Soldiers?”

The man nods.

“You are in the Imperial Army?”

The man nods again. “Emperor Selim has ordered a thousand men be made ready at Fort Serus for the march into Ismagaar. They say we must leave before summer’s end.”

Tobi cares little for the military machinations of his uncle’s empire. “Summer is here. It will soon be Alios Day. All the more reason to take pleasure where you can.” He licks his lips as he curls his fingers around the man’s cock, bunching up the fabric of his breeches.

“My friends might come looking for me,” says the man.

“They might, but they might not,” Tobi says, but he can feel his heart sinking. This man is thinking too much. His mind is no longer on the pleasures of luxoli but on what could happen if they were caught.

“Perhaps I could come back tomorrow night,” the man says. “Alone.”

Tobi sighs. He knows this is a lie. This man will not come back. Or if he does it will be with a group of soldiers meaning to beat Tobi for sins of the body. Or worse, with enforcers. But it matters not, in any case. “Tomorrow, I won’t be here,” Tobi says. “The Copperhead Players are going north to perform at the Alios Fayre in Riddlestone and then on for the snow melt celebrations.”

The handsome man cocks his head to one side. “Beyond Riddlestone you will be in the territory of the Wild Ambolk. Our commanders say they are raiding more this summer. They are the most fearsome of men.”

“They do say that.” Tobi grins.

“The Ambolk do not like outsiders on their land. And they are beasts of men. Ruthless and heartless.”

“The Ambolk don’t scare me, handsome,” Tobi says. “I tame beasts for my bread and butter.” He tilts his head so he can look at the man beguilingly.

“I have heard that they are savages. Some say they worship a demon and make blood sacrifices to ensure their success in any battle. Their king, they say, is a demon himself, who cannot be slain by the weapons of mortals. You ought to be careful. If they challenge you…” the handsome man pauses, “I have heard they leave none alive.”

“I heard they used to carry off the fairest maidens to serve their warriors as pillow slaves,” Tobi says. “Like poor Gold Alyse taken over fifty years ago.”

“A terrible fate,” the handsome man says, lifting his hand and stroking Tobi’s cheek. “You should tell your players not to travel north. Stay here and perhaps tomorrow night I will return alone and find you.”

Tobi takes the man’s wrist and lifts his hand away. “I’m afraid it is now or never handsome. For on the morrow I may have been snatched away by the Ambolk.”

The man bites his lip. He holds Tobi’s gaze, but shakes his head. “No,” he says. “No. I am sorry. I cannot.” He turns away and starts walking briskly back towards the lights of the circus.

Tobi chases after him, calling out, “Hey. Don’t be so hasty.” Although he doubts he will get the soldier to change his mind.

When the soldier stops walking, Tobi thinks he might be wrong about that. The soldier turns just at the treeline. As Tobi gets within reach the soldier grabs hold of Tobi by his waistcoat and slams him up against a tree, hard enough to wind him. The bark scrapes Tobi’s shoulder blades where they are bare above the waistcoat’s low back.

“Eager,” Tobi says with what he hopes is an enticing smile. “If you want to play Master, I’d be delighted. Would you force me to my knees for rough suck, Sire?”

“No,” the soldier spits and Tobi realises that this is no change of heart. “I told you no, you sly cur,” he says, pulling back and slamming his fist into Tobi’s belly, before storming away.

Tobi doubles over, coughing and spluttering, unable to even form a word as he leans on the tree for support and watches the soldier walk away. But it is not the first time his offers of pleasure — even to one who, he is certain, desires them as much as he does — have been met with savagery.

3

TOBI

Three days later, on the morning of Alios Day, Tobi wakes in his tiny caravan on the Copperhead Circus’s campground north of Riddlestone. He snuggles up against the big, soft warm body of Baby, who takes up much more than half of his small bed. Once, back in Fanost, he had shared a small caravan like this with his mother. She would never have allowed him to let Baby sleep in his bed, but she is not here now and he does not care to sleep alone.

He buries his face in Baby’s fur, cooing, “Good morrow to you, my beautiful beast.” Baby purrs, stretching beside him as he pets her, before climbing from the bed.

He dresses quickly in a pair of his oldest black leather breeches, worn soft by the years, and a loose shirt of white linen, leaving the fastenings down the front unlaced over his bare chest.

The sun is rising as he steps out of the caravan, with Baby beside him on her rope harness. The light is golden, promising a warm day to come. Even here in northern Azuria, Alios day is usually bright and warm. The carts and caravans are set up on a small patch of grassland on the banks of the river. The grass is bright vivid green. The heat warms Tobi’s skin through the linen of his shirt. Summer stretches ahead.

All around him circus folk are already at work starting the job of setting up for the night’s show. It’s a familiar sight and, to Tobi, beautiful. He cannot imagine not being here. Bright days and sweet nights of glittering firelight and revelling. In the circus, every night of the summer is a festival.