Now he felt as if he stood in front of his father, felt his father’s hand in his hair, as he never would again. He had wanted his father to be proud of him; and had failed him, in the end.
A sound from the doorway. He looked up, and saw Laurent.
Damen drew in an unsteady breath. Laurent was closing the door behind him and entering. He must deal with this, too. He tried to gather himself.
Laurent said, ‘No. I’m not here to—’ He said, ‘I’m just here.’
He was suddenly aware that the room had grown dark, that night had fallen, and no one had come to light candles. He must have been here for hours. Someone had kept the servants out. Someone had kept everyone out. His generals and his nobles and every person who had business with the King had been turned back. Laurent, he realised, had guarded his solitude for him. And his people, fearing the fierce, strange foreign prince, had done as Laurent ordered, and stayed out. He was stupidly, profoundly grateful for that.
He looked at Laurent, meaning to tell him how much it meant, though as he was, it would take a moment before he could muster himself to speak.
Before he could, he felt Laurent’s fingers on the back of his neck, a shock of touch that caught him in a tumult of confusion as it drew him forward, simply. It was, from Laurent, slightly awkward; sweet; rare; stiff with obvious inexperience.
If he had been offered this as an adult, he couldn’t remember it. He couldn’t remember ever having needed it, except that maybe he had needed it since the bells had rung in Akielos, and never allowed himself to ask for it. Body leaned in to body and he closed his eyes.
Time passed. He became aware of the slow, strong pulse, the slender body, the warmth in his arms—and that was nice in a different way.
‘Now you are taking advantage of my kind-hearted instincts,’ Laurent said, a murmur into his ear.
He drew back, but didn’t move away completely, nor did Laurent seem to expect it, the bedding shifting as Laurent sat beside him, as if it was natural for them to be sitting with their shoulders almost touching one another.
He let his lips form a half-smile. ‘You aren’t going to offer me one of your gaudy Veretian handkerchiefs?’
‘You could use the clothing you’re wearing. It’s about the same size.’
‘Your poor Veretian sensibilities. All those wrists and ankles.’
‘And arms and thighs and every other part.’
‘My father’s dead.’
The words had a finality to them. His father was buried in Akielos beneath the columned halls of the silent, where the pain and confusion of his last days would never trouble him again. He looked up at Laurent.
‘You thought he was a warmonger. An aggressive, war-hungry king, who invaded your country on the flimsiest of pretexts, hungry for land and the glory of Akielos.’
‘No,’ said Laurent. ‘We don’t have to do this now.’
‘A barbarian,’ said Damen, ‘with barbaric ambitions, fit only to rule by the sword. You hated him.’
‘I hated you,’ said Laurent. ‘I hated you so badly I thought I’d choke on it. If my uncle hadn’t stopped me, I would have killed you. And then you saved my life, and every time I needed you, you were there, and I hated you for that, too.’
‘I killed your brother.’
The silence seemed to tighten, painfully. He made himself look at Laurent, a bright, sharp presence beside him.
‘What are you doing here?’ Damen said.
He was pale in the moonlight, set against the dim shadows of the room that shrouded them both.
Laurent said, ‘I know what it’s like to lose family.’
The room was very quiet, with no hint of the activity that must be taking place beyond its walls, even this late. A fort was never silent, there were always soldiers, attendants, slaves. Outside, the guards were making their evening rounds. The sentries on the walls were patrolling, looking out into the night.
‘Is there no way forward for us?’ said Damen. It just came out. Beside him, he could feel Laurent holding himself very still.
‘You mean, will I come back to your bed for the little time we have left?’
‘I mean that we hold the centre. We hold everything from Acquitart to Sicyon. Can we not call it a kingdom and rule it together? Am I such a poorer prospect than a Patran princess, or a daughter of the Empire?’