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Jemel cannot answer. He only nods. Atticul is there. In the library, watching them in the dark.

It takes Xan a moment to see him. But Jemel feels him stiffen, moving subtly, hiding Jemel with his body.

The dark shape of Atticul lifts a finger. Someone else steps out of the dark. A guard holding a candle. He passes it to Atticul.

The dancing flame licks Atticul’s face as he uses the candle to light his pipe.

Jemel realises the man who brought the candle was only one of a dozen guards. All moving silently through the dark library to take position at Atticul’s back.

Atticul exhales smoke and says casually, “Finally.”

23

XAN

Xan holds and caresses Jemel as he spends in his arms, under his hands.

He is a perfect beauty. Xan has never seen a face so entrancing. Never seen a combination of features so perfect. High cheekbones, full lips. His hair is pale, the colour of dried wheat and his eyes, framed by long dark eyelashes are eerie, pure silver.

There is a strangeness of the shape of his top lip, but it seems to only make him even more beautiful, the marred spot on that face. Xan has never seen a more sexual creature in his life. How can this be the face of that pious man beneath the veil?

If Xan had known this he would have tried so much harder to seduce him. No. He did try hard. Even without that face he has never wanted anything more. It is not the beauty Xan loves. Jemel’s beauty, entrancing as it is, is little compared to all the things Xan finds so compelling about this man. But it is still a delight to kiss that pale silk hair as his priest shakes through his spend. He has never seen hair so fine. It is like silk. He thinks idly of the fine fabric that could be spun from it and whispers, “Baraboo. My own, baraboo.”

Xan has lain with many men, but he has never felt like this. He would do anything to protect this creature, to keep him safe. No one has ever kept this man safe. He has been a toy to so many, but none of them have treated him like the treasure he is.

And then he feels Jemel freeze, before suddenly flinging himself away, hiding himself beneath the linens and furs.

“Baraboo?” Xan says, “Jemel?”

Xan turns, looking to see what Jemel has seen.

Atticul, in the dark. He moves in front of Jemel, but it is too late. Atticul has a dozen guards with him.

He nods at Xan and speaks a single word of Artemian.

Jemel wails, pure anguish. He tries to grab for his veil. But it’s too late. The guards are on them. Jemel is dragged naked to his feet held by two of them, still stained with the marks of their coupling. Red marks on his neck and chest from Xan’s mouth and fingertips. His own spend is drying on his belly. Xan can feel the priest’s shame so strongly it is like a sour taste in his mouth.

Xan is unarmed, also naked, but he still attacks, leaping to his feet and throwing himself towards the guards that are holding Jemel. But he never reaches either of them. He too is held, by what feels like half a dozen men.

He looks up at Jemel and sees he is being chained. As his hip cloth is plucked from the floor and roughly tied around him, he is sobbing, begging for his veil, keeping his head down so his hair, that perfect silken silver hair falls across his face.

Atticul strolls forward. “No,” he drawls, “no veil.” Then more mocking words of Artemian. He takes Jemel’s chin and lifts his head, brushing his hair off his face with the other hand. It is a pitiful sight, Jemel’s beautiful, strange face, streaked with tears. His expression beyond comprehension. Atticul considers it for a moment, then slaps Jemel hard around the face.

Jemel cries out. Xan snarls and bucks against the guards holding him.

Atticul turns. He says something else in Artemian too fast for Xan to understand, but when he sees the sickened shock on Jemel’s face he thinks he can guess.

The guards take their hands off Xan as Jemel says in Plumian. “He told you to bed me?”

He sounds broken.

“No,” Xan says in Plumian. “Please, Baraboo, no.”

The guards are picking up Xan and Jemel’s belongings from the library floor. When one of them finds the flask, Atticul snaps out a command, reaching for it. Before saying something and smiling at his own cleverness.

Atticul gave Xan foribunda to use to bed Jemel. And Xan let Jemel take it and did exactly as Atticul asked.

He had freed Trysta. He had planned to leave. He had known in his heart he couldn’t take the deal Atticul offered. Even for all of Pluma and every Plumian taken by that foul army. And doubtless the removal of the versun stain forever. But he could not do it. He had sworn he would have to find another way. He would take Trysta and the priest and go to the Mother of Men. He would find a way. Use the Mortingales somehow. He had meant to. Truly. He had meant to. But fate has twisted things so he has ended up taking Atticul’s deal after all.