Laurent And Damen Quotes

I lack," said Laurent, "the easy mannerisms that are usually shared with," you could see him pushing the words out, "a lover." "You lack the easy mannerisms that are usually shared with anyone," said Damen.

Stop enjoying yourself," Damen murmured. "We're going to be killed, any minute." "Giant animal," said Laurent. "Stop it.

That’s right, I’m still captured,’ said Damen. ‘Your eyes say, “For now,”’ Laurent said. ‘Your eyes have always said, “For now.

After a long moment Laurent said, with painful honesty, "I...find it difficult to let go of control." "No kidding," said Damen.

How can you trust me, after what your own brother did to you?" "Because he was false", said Damen, "and you are true. I have never known a truer man.

Damen's understanding of Laurent rearranged itself, in order that he might despise him more accurately.

Damen now knew the precise number of arrows Laurent needed to have trained on him in order to shut him up. It was six.

There was a warmth in his chest whenever he looked at Laurent. He didn't look often for that reason.

Damen to Jord about Laurent: 'He needs me,' said Damen. 'I don't care if you tell the world.

Why do you give me good advice?" asked Laurent. Isn't that why you brought me with you? Instead of speaking those words aloud, Damen said, "Why don't you take any of it?

This," said Laurent, "is a little more—" It was a word of sharp points: "—intimate," he said, "than ice." "Too intimate?" Damen said. Slowly, he was kneading Laurent's shoulders. He did not usually think of himself as someone with suicidal impulses.

Torveld favoured Laurent with another of those long, admiring looks that were starting to come with grating frequency. Damen frowned. Laurent was a nest of scorpions in the body of one person. Torveld looked at him and saw a buttercup.

It was with a shock that he felt the touch of Laurent's fingers against the back of his wrist. [...] Laurent was shifting the fabric of his sleeve, sliding it back slightly to reveal the gold underneath, until the wrist cuff he had asked the blacksmith to leave on was exposed between them. 'Sentiment?' said Laurent. 'Something like that.' Their eyes met and he could feel each beat of his heart. A few seconds of silence, a space that lengthened, until Laurent spoke. 'You should give me the other.

That isn't why. She would have chosen him even if you'd had royal blood in your veins, even if you'd had the same blood as Kastor. You don't understand the way a mind like that thinks. I do. If I were Jokaste and a king maker, I'd have chosen Kastor over you too.' 'I suppose you are going to enjoy telling me why,' said Damen. He felt his hands curl into fists, heard the bitterness in his throat. 'Because a king maker would always choose the weaker man. The weaker the man, the easier he is to control.

She was intelligent, accomplished, beautiful. She was everything I could have asked for in a woman. But she was a king maker. She wanted power. She must have thought her only path to the throne was through Kastor.' 'My honourable barbarian. I wouldn't have picked that as your type.' 'Type?' 'A pretty face, a devious mind and a ruthless nature.

He wasn't sure how it would be, but when Laurent saw who was beside him, he smiled, the expression a little shy but completely genuine. Damen, who hadn't been expecting it, felt the single painful beat of his heart. He'd never thought Laurent could look like that at anyone.

I'm glad you're here,' said Laurent. 'I always thought that I'd have to face my uncle alone.' He turned to look at Damen, and their eyes met. 'You're not alone,' said Damen. Laurent didn't answer, but he did give a smile, and reached out to touch Damen, wordlessly.

Damen thought that if Laurent was holding his hand, he must be dying.

Now, Laurent was beside him. Aloof, untouchable Laurent was beside him, kneeling on the wet marble hundreds of miles from home, with nothing in his eyes but Damen.

After a moment, Laurent said, ‘He would have liked you.’ ‘Even after I started courting his little brother?’ said Damen carefully. He watched Laurent stop, the way that he did when he was taken by surprise, and then lift his eyes to meet Damen’s. ‘Yes,’ said Laurent softly, his cheeks reddened slightly.

Don't think, he'd said, because it was easier than saying, Take me for who I am. He couldn't bear that suddenly. He wanted it without pretences, without excuses, his fingers curling hard into Laurent's hair. 'It's me,' said Damen. 'It's me, here with you. Say my name.' 'Damianos.

You seem to vacillate between assistance and assault. Which is it?' 'I'm not surprised you've driven three men to try and kill you, I'm only surprised there weren't more,' said Damen, bluntly. 'There were,' said Laurent, 'more.

What are you doing?" Damen's breath was shaky. "What am I doing? You are not very observant." "You're not yourself," said Damen. "And even if you were, you don't do anything without a dozen motives." Laurent went very still, the soft words half bitter. "Don't I? I must want something.

He's the captive Kastor sent you to train?' said Torveld, curiously. 'He's--safe?' 'He looks combative, but he's really very docile and adoring,' said Laurent, 'like a puppy.' 'A puppy,' said Torveld. To demonstrate, Laurent picked up a confection of crushed nuts and honey and held it out to Damen as he had at the ring, between thumb and forefinger. 'Sweetmeat?' said Laurent. In the stretched-out moment that followed, Damen thought explicitly about killing him.

I don't have sleeves to carry handkerchiefs in,' said Damen. 'I wouldn't mind being given a knife.' 'Or a fork?' said Laurent.

What makes you think Kastor is the weaker man? You don't know him.' 'But I'm coming to know you,' said Laurent.

Having made the decision to let Damen in, Laurent had not gone back on it. When the walls went up, it was with Damen inside them.

Damen felt Laurent start shaking against him, and realised that, silently, helplessly, he was laughing. There came the sound of at least two more sets of footsteps striding into the room, greeted with: 'Here he is. We found him fucking this derelict, disguised as the tavern prostitute.' 'This is the tavern prostitute. You idiot, the Prince of Vere is so celibate I doubt he even touches himself once every ten years. You. We're looking for two men. One was a barbarian soldier, a giant animal. The other was blond. Not like this boy. Attractive.' 'There was a blond lord's pet downstairs,' said Volo. 'Brained like a pea and easy to hoodwink. I don't think he was the Prince.' 'I wouldn't call him blond. More like mousy. And he wasn't that attractive,' said the boy, sulkily. The shaking, progressively, had worsened. 'Stop enjoying yourself,' Damen murmured. 'We're going to be killed, any minute.' 'Giant animal,' said Laurent. 'Stop it.

Damen said, 'Men, sometimes.' 'In the absence of women?' 'When I want them.' 'If I'd known that, I might have felt a frisson of danger, lying next to you.' 'You did know that,' said Damen

Say it,’ said Damen. ‘I yield.’ It was gritted out. Laurent’s head turned away to one side. ‘I want you to know,’ he said, the words thick and heavy as they pushed out of him, ‘that I could have done this any time when I was a slave.

I want you," said Damen. "You've had me," said Laurent. "Twice. I can still feel the . . . sensation of it." Laurent shifted, just so. Damen buried his face in Laurent's neck and groaned, and there was laughter too, and something akin to happiness that hurt as it pushed at the inside of his chest. "Stop it. You will not be able to walk," said Damen. "I'd welcome the chance to walk," said Laurent. "I have to ride a horse.

I'm not going to use the knife," said Damen, "but if you're willing to put it in my hand, you underestimate how much I want to." "No," said Laurent, "I know exactly what it is to want to kill a man, and to wait.

Friends,' said Laurent, 'Is that what we are?' [...] Damen said, with helpless honesty, 'Laurent, I am your slave.

A kingdom, or this?

He didn't reprimand Damen. He didn't seem particularly displeased with barbaric behavior, as long as it was directed outward. Like a man who enjoys owning an animal who will rake others with its claws but eat peacefully from his own hand, he was giving his pet a great deal of license. As a result, courtiers kept one eye on Damen, giving him a wide berth. Laurent used that to his advantage, using the propensity of courtiers to fall back in reaction to Damen's presence as a means of extricating himself smoothly from conversation. The third time this happened Damen said, 'Shall I make a face at the ones you don't like, or is it enough to just look like a barbarian?

Damen watched as alone, unattended, Laurent had left his own banquet to find him, to follow him here, up the worn steps out onto the battlements. Laurent fitted himself next to him, a comfortable, unobtrusive presence that took up room in Damen's chest. They stood on the edge of the fort they had won together.

Makedon was explaining the virtues of iron tea to Laurent, and when Laurent massaged his own temple with finely bred fingers, Makedon remarked, rising, ‘You should have your slave fetch you some.’ ‘Fetch me some,’ Laurent said. Damen rose. And stopped. Laurent had gone very still. Damen stood there, awkwardly. He could think of no other reason why he had stood up. He looked up and his eyes met those of Nikandros, who was staring at him. Nikandros was with a small group to one side of the table, the last of the men in the hall. He was the only one to have seen and heard. Damen just stood there. ‘This meeting is over,’ Nikandros announced to the men around him, too loudly. ‘The King is ready to ride.

You broke a man today. Doesn't that affect you at all? These are lives, not pieces in a chess game with your uncle.' 'You're wrong. We are on my uncle's board and these men are all his pieces.' 'Then each time you move one of them, you can congratulate yourself on how much like him you are.

Laurent stopped. Damen could see the moment when Laurent decided to continue. It was deliberate, his eyes meeting Damen's, his tone subtly changed. 'Damianos of Akielos was commanding troops at seventeen. At nineteen, he rode onto the field, cut a path through our finest men, and took my brother's life. They say--they said--he was the best fighter in Akielos. I thought, if I was going to kill someone like that, I would have to be very, very good.

This place sickened him. Anywhere else, you simply killed your enemy with a sword. Or poisoned him, if you had the honourless instincts of an assassin. Here, it was layer upon layer of constructed double-dealing, dark, polished and unpleasant. He would have assumed tonight the product of Laurent's own mind, if Laurent were not so clearly the victim.

Laurent said, 'I didn't think anyone was good enough to get past your guard.' 'One person,' said Damen.

How can you trust me, after what your own brother did to you?' 'Because he was false,' said Damen. 'and you are true. I think if I gave you my heart, you would treat it tenderly.

Laurent had stopped dead the moment he had seen Damen, his face turning white as though in reaction to a slap, or an insult.

Think he'll kill him?" another speculated. Damen knew the answer to that question. Laurent was not going to kill him. He was going to break him. Here, in front of everyone.

Contrary, aren’t you,’ said Damen softly, thumbing over Laurent’s cheek. ‘Fuck me,’ said Laurent. ‘I want to,’ said Damen. ‘Can you let me?

You're in a strange mood,' said Damen. 'Stranger than usual.' 'I'd say I'm in a good mood.' 'A good mood.' 'Well, not as good a mood as Volo,' said Laurent. 'But the food's decent, the fire's warm, and no one's tried to kill me in the last three hours. Why not?

I'm twenty years old,' said Laurent, 'and I've been the recipient of offers almost as long as I can remember.' 'Is that an answer?' said Damen. 'I'm not a virgin,' said Laurent. 'I wondered,' Damen said, carefully, 'if you reserved your love for women.' 'No, I--' Laurent sounded surprised. Then he seemed to realise that his surprise gave something fundamental away, and he looked away with a muttered breath; when he looked back at Damen there was a wry smile on his lips, but he said, steadily, 'No.' 'Have I said something to offend you? I didn't mean--' 'No. A plausible, benign and uncomplicated theory. Trust you to come up with it.' 'It's not my fault that no one in your country can think in a straight line,' said Damen, frowning a touch defensively.

The next night, alone in the tent, Laurent said: 'As we draw closer to the border, I think it would be safer--more private--to hold our discussions in your language rather than mine.' He said it in carefully pronounced Akielon. Damen stared at him, feeling as though the world had just been rearranged. 'What is it?' said Laurent. 'Nice accent,' said Damen, because despite everything, the corner of his mouth was beginning helplessly to curve up. [...] It was of course no surprise to find that Laurent had a well-stocked armoury of elegant phrases and bitchy remarks, but could not talk in detail about anything sensible.

So he's tame,' said Estienne, and reached out tentatively, as though to pat a wild animal. It was a question of which part of the animal he was patting. Damen cknocked his hand away. Estienne gave a yelp and snatched his hand back, nursing it against his chest. 'No that tame,' said Laurent.

Perhaps if you were not a foot taller, or quite so broad across the shoulders.’ ‘It’s considerably less than a foot,’ said Damen. ‘Is it?’ said Laurent. ‘It feels like more when you argue with me on points of honour.

Damen had half expected a gaudy parade costume, but Laurent had always defined himself against the opulence of the court. And he did not need gilt to be recognised under a parade standard, only the uncovered bright of his hair.

Damen pushed himself up on an elbow, and propped his head on his hand, his fingers in his hair. He saw that Laurent was looking at him. Not watching him, as he did sometimes, but looking at him, as a man might look at a carving that has caught his attention.

I should make you watch, said Laurent, while he's stripped down for every man in the troop to have him." Damen stepped forward. "You don't mean this. You need him as a hostage." "I don't need him continent," said Laurent.

The guard said, 'Our orders are no one in or out.' 'You can tell the Prince that,' said Damen, 'after you tell him you let through the Regent's pet.' That got a flicker of reaction. Invoking Laurent's bad mood was like a magical key, unlocking the most forbidding doors.

Trust you?' said Damen. 'You flayed the skin from my back. I have seen you do nothing but cheat and lie to every person you've encountered. You use anything and anyone to further your own ends. You are the last person I would ever trust.' [...] 'Go, then.

You're better than I am.' Damen couldn't help his amused breath of reaction to that, or the long, scrolling look from Laurent's head to his toes and back again, which was probably a little insulting. But really.

He thought of Laurent's delicate, needling talk that froze into icy rebuff if Damen pushed at it, but if he didn't--if he matched himself to its subtle pulses and undercurrents--continued, sweetly deepening, until he could only wonder if he knew, if they both knew, what they were doing.

Damen had found his gaze drawn to the easy arrangement of Laurent's limbs, the balance of wrist on knee, the long, finely articulated bones. He had been aware of a diffuse but growing tension, a sensation almost like he was waiting . . . waiting for something, unsure what it was. It was like being alone in a pit with a snake: the snake could relax, you could not.

Laurent’s fair skin and blue eyes were a combination that was rare in Patras, rarer in Akielos, and a particular weakness of Damen’s.

He was under no illusion that he was going to be taken to the campfire to roll around with Laurent. If anything, he was going to be taken to the campfire to watch Laurent do some inventive sidestepping.

I'm sorry," said Damen. Laurent gave him a strange look. "Why would you apologise to me?" He couldn't answer. Not with the truth. He said, "I didn't understand what being King meant to you." "What's that?" "An end to fighting." Laurent's expression changed, the subtle signifiers of shock imperfectly repressed, and Damen felt it in his own body, a new pull in his chest at the look in Laurent's dark eyes.

All right,' he heard Lazar say. He'd forgotten Lazar was there. After a long moment, he took his eyes off Laurent and looked back at Lazar, who was gazing at him with a rather dry but understanding smile quirking the side of his mouth. 'All right what?' said Damen. 'All right, you're not fucking him,' said Lazar.

Damen bridged the nine chilly inches at the first opportunity. 'What are you doing? You were the one who warned me about Nicaise.' He spoke in a low voice. Laurent went very still; then he deliberately shifted in his seat and leaned in, bringing his lips right to Damen's ear. 'I think I'm out of stabbing range, he's got short arms. Or perhaps he'll try to throw a sugar plum? That is difficult. If I duck he'll hit Torveld.' Damen gritted his teeth. 'You know what I meant. He heard you. He's going to act. Can't you do something about it?' 'I'm occupied.' 'Then let me do something.' 'Bleed on him?' said Laurent.

I want your best room,' said Laurent, 'with a big bed and a private bath, and if you send up the house boy, you'll find out the hard way that I don't like sharing.' He delivered the innkeeper a long, cool look. "He's expensive,' said Damen to the innkeeper, by way of apology.

He was not wearing the woollen cap. His newly minted hair was uncovered, and he looked as fresh as he had emerging from the baths the night before, as he had waking beneath Damen's hands. But he had resumed the cool restraint, his jacket laced, his expression disagreeable from the haughty profile to the intolerant blue eyes. 'You're alive,' Damen said, and the words came out on a rush of relief that made him feel weak. 'I'm alive,' said Laurent. They were gazing at one another. 'I wasn't sure you'd come back.' 'I came back,' said Damen.

Laurent said, 'What do you think of Jord?' 'I like him,' said Damen. 'You should be pleased with him. He was the right choice for Captain.' There was an unhurried pause. Aside from the sounds Damen made when he picked up a vambrace, the tent was quiet. 'No,' said Laurent. 'You were.

The Crown Prince was camped at Nesson this very minute, on his way to the border to stand up to Akielos. He was a young man serious about his responsibilities, Charls said. Damen had to make an effort not to look over at Laurent, gambling, when he said it.

I'm not sure that's quite what I asked," said Laurent. His voice had the same quality as his gaze. "This is close quarters." "Close enough to see your eyelashes," said Damen. "It's lucky you do not have the size to breed great warriors.

I thought killing was easy for you," said Laurent. His voice was rather quiet. "I thought you did it without thinking." "I'm a soldier," said Damen, "and I have been for a long time. I've killed on the sawdust. I've killed in battle. Is that what you mean by easy?" "You know it isn't," said Laurent, in that same quiet voice.

If you’re this angry,’ said Laurent, ‘you should fight a real opponent.’ ‘There’s no one–‘ Damen stopped, but the unspoken words hung, dangerous with the truth. There was no one good enough to fight him. Not in this mood. In this mood, angry and unable to hold back, he would kill them. ‘There’s me,’ said Laurent.

To Laurent, in the same voice, he said, 'Calm down.' Laurent said, 'I wasn't finished.' 'Finished what?' Reducing every man in the room? Jord isn't any kind of match for you in this mood, and you know it. Calm down.' Laurent gave him the kind of look a swordsman gives as he decides whether or not to slice his unarmed enemy in half.

Damen held himself very still. This easy way of speaking of Auguste was new, and he didn’t want to disturb it. After a moment, Laurent said, ‘He would have liked you.’ ‘Even after I started courting his little brother?’ said Damen carefully.

You look like a whore.' The soft words barely stirred the air by Damen's ear, inaudible to anyone else. Laurent murmured: 'Filthy painted slut. Did you spread for my uncle the way you did for Kastor?

I want you to know,' said Damen, carefully, 'that I haven't done anything to encourage the idea that I-that you and I-' 'If I thought you had, I'd have had you tied to a post and flogged until your front matched your back.

Laurent flushed. The colour hit his cheeks hard, and a muscle tightened in his jaw as whatever he felt was forcibly repressed. It was not like any reaction that Damen had ever seen from him before, and he couldn't resist pushing it a little further.

He loved the way that Laurent kissed, as if Damen was the only person that he had ever kissed, or would ever want to.

I remember. You take a great deal of pleasure in small victories." Damen quoted Laurent's words back to him. "It's not small," said Laurent. "It's the first time I've ever won a play against my uncle.

You were taken prisoner, you single-handedly escaped from the cells at Fortaine, and somehow managed to get Guion to switch sides on the way out?’ ‘Well,’ said Laurent, ‘not everyone is as bad at escaping as you are.’ Damen

Did you learn the rotation of the border patrols?’ said Laurent. ‘Yes, our scouts found—’ Laurent was standing in the doorway wearing a chiton of unadorned white cotton. Damen dropped the pitcher. It shattered, shards flying outward as it slipped from his fingers and hit the stone floor. Laurent’s arms were bare. His throat was bare. His collarbone was bare, and most of his thighs, his long legs, and all of his left shoulder. Damen stared at him. ‘You’re wearing Akielon clothing,’ said Damen. ‘Everyone’s wearing Akielon clothing,’ said Laurent. Damen thought that the pitcher had shattered and he could not now take a deep draught of the wine. Laurent came forward, navigating the broken ceramic in his short cotton and sandalled feet, until he reached the seat beside Damen, where the map was laid out on the wooden table. ‘Once we know the rotation of the patrols, we’ll know when to approach,’ said Laurent. Laurent sat down. ‘We need to approach at the beginning of their rotation in order to give us the most time before they report back to the fort.’ It was even shorter sitting down. ‘Damen.’ ‘Yes. Sorry,’ said Damen. And then: ‘What were you saying?

How can you trust me, after what your own brother did to you?’ ‘Because he was false,’ said Damen, ‘and you are true. I have never known a truer man.

Why? Do you want to spar? We can keep it friendly," Damen said. "No," said Laurent.

When you lost your brother, was there someone to comfort you?" "Yes," said Laurent. "In a way." "Then I'm glad," said Damen. "I'm glad that you weren't alone." Laurent pushed himself away, up into a sitting position, and for a moment he sat, without speaking. He pushed his palms into his eye sockets. "What is it?" "It's nothing," said Laurent.

Damen said, with helpless honesty, "Laurent, I am your slave." The words laid him open, truth exposed in the space between them. He wanted to prove it, as though, inarticulate, he could make up for what divided them. He was aware of the shallowness of Laurent's breath, it matched his own; they were breathing each other's air. He reached out, watching for any hesitation in Laurent's eyes. The touch he offered was accepted as it had not been last time, fingers gentle on Laurent's jaw, thumb passing over his cheekbone, soft. Laurent's controlled body was hard with tension, his rapid pulse urgent for flight, but he closed his eyes in the last seconds before it happened. Damen's palm slid over Laurent's warm nape; slowly, very slowly, making his height an offering, not a threat, Damen leaned in and kissed Laurent on the mouth. The kiss was barely a suggestion of itself, with no yielding of the rigidity in Laurent, but the first kiss became a second, after a fraction of parting in which Damen felt the flicker of Laurent's shallow breathing against his own lips. It felt, in all the lies between them, as if this was the only true thing. It didn't matter that he was leaving tomorrow. He felt remade with the desire to give Laurent this: to give him all he would allow, and to ask for nothing, this careful threshold something to be savoured because it was all Laurent would let himself have.

The kiss happened because they couldn't help it, and it was so sweet and so right that Damen felt a kind of ache. He pulled back. The realities of the outside world seemed to press at him. "I"-he couldn't say it. "No. Listen to me." He felt Laurent's hand firm on the back of his neck. "I'm not going to let my uncle hurt you." Laurent's blue gaze was calm and steady, as if he had mad a decision and wanted Damen to know it. "It's what I came here last night to say. I'm going to take care of it." "Promise me," Damen heard himself say. "Promise me we won't let him-" "I promise.

From the severe, straight-backed posture to the impersonal grace of his cupped yellow head; from his detached blue eyes to the arrogance of his cheekbones, Laurent was complicated and contradictory, and Damen could look nowhere else.

They trundled on for two miles, until the checkpoint was safely out of sight behind a hill, when the wagon stopped and the door swung open. Laurent stepped out of the wagon, wearing only a loose Veretian shirt, slightly dishevelled over his pants. Nikandros looked from him to the wagon and back again. He said, ‘How did you convince Jokaste to play along with the guards?’ ‘I didn’t,’ said Laurent. He tossed the wad of blue silk in his hands to one of the soldiers to dispose of, then shrugged into his jacket in a rather mannish gesture. Nikandros was staring at him. ‘Don’t think about it too much,’ said Damen.

No," said Laurent, almost as if he was realising it for the first time. "I don't think you would. But I know you don't like it. I remember how much it maddened you in the palace, to be bound and powerless. I felt yesterday how badly you wanted to hit someone." Damen found he'd moved without realising it, his fingers lifting to touch the bruised edge of Laurent's jaw. He said, "The man who did this to you.

Laurent!’ said Makedon, greeting Laurent warmly. ‘I am glad to take up your invitation to hunt with you in Acquitart when this campaign is over.’ He clapped Laurent on the shoulder. Laurent said, ‘My invitation.’ Damen wondered whether he had ever been clapped on the shoulder in his life. ‘I sent a messenger to my homestead this very morning to tell them to begin preparing light spears for chamois.

It was like watching a boar try to take on the endless blue of the sky. Damen remembered how it felt to be coerced to Laurent's will. Laurent had never needed to use force to make men obey him, just as he had never needed men to like him in order to get his way. Laurent got his way because when men tried to resist him, they found, sweetly outmanoeuvred, that they couldn’t.

The Regency,' said Laurent, addressing the troop, 'thought to take us outnumbered. It expected us to roll over without a fight.' Damen said: 'We will not let them cow us, subdue us or force us down. Ride hard. Don't stop to fight the front line. We are going to smash them open. We are here to fight for our Prince!' The cry rang out, For the Prince! The men gripped their swords, slammed their visors down, and the sound they made was a roar.

If you bind your men to you with deception, how can you ever trust them? You have qualities they will come to admire. Why not let them grow to trust you naturally, and in that way--' 'There isn't time,' said Laurent. The words pushed themselves with sheer force out of whatever wordless state Laurent had been shocked into. 'There isn't time,' Laurent said again. 'I have two weeks until we reach the border. Don't pretend that I can woo these men with hard work and a winning smile in that time. I am not the green colt my uncle pretends. I fought at Marlas and I fought at Sanpelier. I am not here for niceties. I don't intend to see the men I lead cut down because they will not obey orders, or because they cannot hold a line. I intend to survive, I intend to beat my uncle, and I will fight with every weapon that I have.

Talik said, 'His contract with Lord Berenger ends soon. Ancel will seek a new contract, a high bidder. He wants money, status. He is foolish. Lord Berenger may offer less money, but he is kind, and never puts pets in the ring. Ancel has made many enemies. In the ring, someone will scratch his green eyes out, an "accident."' Damen was drawn in against his will. 'That's why he's chasing royal attention? He wants the Prince to--' He tried out the unfamiliar vocabulary. '--offer for his contract?' 'The Prince?' said Talik, scornfully. 'Everyone knows the Prince does not keep pets.' 'None at all?' said Damen. She said, 'You.' She looked him up and down. 'Perhaps the Prince has a taste for men, not these painted Veretian boys who squeal if you pinch them.' Her tone suggested that she approved of this on general principle.

What?’ Damen was smiling. ‘You’re very,’ said Laurent, and then, flushing, ‘attractive.’ ‘Really,’ said Damen, in a rich, warm voice. ‘Yes,’ said Laurent. Damen’s smile widened, and he lay back in the sheets and just luxuriated in the idea, feeling ridiculously pleased. ‘Well,’ Damen owned, turning his head back to Laurent eventually, ‘You are too.’ Laurent

Laurent shuddered against him as they kissed, as if, having surrendered to it, the painful exchange of brother for lover, he was in some private reality where myth and man met. Even if it was some self-destructive impulse in Laurent, Damen was not noble enough to give it up. He wanted it, felt a surge of purely selfish desire as he thought of it, that Laurent knew it was him. That Laurent wanted this with him. He

Slow rocking began to turn the kiss into something more. There was a knock at the door. "Come in," said Laurent, turning his head towards the sound. Damen said, "Laurent," shocked and on full display as the door swung open. Pallas entered. Laurent greeted him no self-consciousness at all. "Yes?" Laurent's voice was matter-of-fact. Pallas's mouth opened. Damen saw what Pallas saw: Laurent like some dream of a newly fucked virgin, himself unmistakably above him, fully roused. [...] "My apologies, Exalted. I came to seek your orders for the morning." "We're busy currently. Have a servant prepare the baths and bring us food mid-morning." Laurent spoke like an administrator glancing up from his desk. "Yes, Exalted." Pallas turned blindly, and made for the door. "What is it?" Laurent looked at Damen, who had detached himself and was sitting with the sheet pulled up to where he had clutched it to cover himself. And then, with the burgeoning delight of discovery, "Are you shy?

Charls met the Prince of Vere once,’ Guilliame said to Damen, lowering his voice to the conspiratorial, ‘in a tavern in Nesson, disguised as a,’ lowering it further, ‘prostitute.’ Damen looked over at Laurent, who was deep in conversation, letting his eyes pass slowly over every familiar feature, the cool expression tipped with gold in the firelight. He said, ‘Did he?’ ‘Charls said, think of the most expensive pet you’ve ever seen, then double it.’ ‘Really?’ said Damen. ‘Of course, Charls knew who he was right away, because he couldn’t hide his princely style, and nobility of spirit.’ ‘Of course,’ said Damen.

Even before Laurent had hit the ground, the man had drawn his sword. Damen was too far away. He was too far to get between the man and Laurent, he knew that, even as he drew his sword--even as he wheeled his horse, felt the powerful bunch of the animal beneath him. There was only one thing he could do. As the spray of water sheared up from under his horse, he hefted his sword, changed his grip, and threw. It was, emphatically, not a throwing weapon. It was six pounds of Rabatian steel, forged for a two-handed grip. And he was on a moving horse, and many feet away, and the man was moving too, towards Laurent. The sword drove through the air and took the man in the chest, ramming into the ground and pinning him there.

You are merchants?’ ‘We are.’ ‘What name?’ said the officer. ‘Charls,’ said Damen, who was the only merchant he knew. ‘You are Charls the renowned Veretian cloth merchant?’ said the officer sceptically, as if this was a name well known to him. ‘No,’ said Laurent, as if this was the most foolish thing in the world. ‘I am Charls the renowned Veretian cloth merchant. This is my assistant. Lamen.’ In the silence, the officer tracked his gaze over Laurent, then over Damen. (...) ‘Well, Charls,’ he said, eventually. ‘It looks like you’ve got a broken axel.’ ‘I don’t suppose your men could aid us in our repairs?’ said Laurent. Damen stared at him. They were encircled by fifty mounted Akielon soldiers. Jokaste was inside that wagon. The officer said, ‘We’re patrolling for Damianos of Akielos.’ ‘Who’s Damianos of Akielos?’ said Laurent. His face was utterly open, his blue eyes unblinking, upturned to the officer on his horse. ‘He’s the King’s son,’ Damen heard himself saying, ‘Kastor’s brother.’ ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Lamen. Prince Damianos is dead,’ said Laurent. ‘He is hardly the man to whom this officer is referring.’ Then, to the officer: ‘I apologise for my assistant. He doesn’t keep up with Akielon affairs.

Nicaise had picked up a gilt three-pronged fork, but had paused before sampling the dish in order to speak. The fear he'd shown of Damen at the ring seemed to still be there. His knuckles, clenched around the fork, were white. 'It's all right,' said Damen. He spoke to the boy as gently as he could. 'I'm not going to hurt you.' Nicaise stared back at him. His huge blue eyes were fringed like a whore's, or like a doe's. Around them, the table was a coloured wall of voices and laughter, courtiers caught up in their own amusements, paying them no attention. 'Good,' said Nicaise, and stabbed the fork viciously into Damen's thigh under the table. Even through a layer of cloth, it was enough to make Damen start, and instinctively grab the fork, as three drops of blood welled up. 'Excuse me a moment,' Laurent said smoothly, turning from Torveld to face Nicaise. 'I made your pet jump,' said Nicaise, smugly. Not sounding at all displeased: 'Yes, you did.' 'Whatever you're planning, it's not going to work.' 'I think it will, though. Bet you your earring.' 'If I win, you wear it,' said Nicaise. Laurent immediately lifted his cup and inclined it toward Nicaise in a little gesture sealing the bet. Damen tried to shake the bizarre impression that they were enjoying themselves. Nicaise waved an attendant over and asked for a new fork.

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?’ He made himself say no more than that, though the words crowded in his chest. He waited. It surprised him that it hurt to wait, and that the longer he waited, the more he felt he couldn’t bear to hear the answer, brought to him on a knife point. When he made himself look at Laurent, Laurent’s eyes on him were very dark, his voice quiet. ‘How can you trust me, after what your own brother did to you?’ ‘Because he was false,’ said Damen, ‘and you are true. I have never known a truer man.’ He said, into the stillness, ‘I think if I gave you my heart, you would treat it tenderly.’ Laurent turned his head, denying Damen his face. Damen could see his breathing. After a moment he said in a low voice, ‘When you make love to me like that, I can’t think.’ ‘Don’t think,’ said Damen. Damen