Prince's Gambit Quotes

Some day, Prince Kheldar, you will fall in love," the queen said with a little smirk, "and the twelve kingdoms will stand around and chortle over the fall of so notorious a bachelor.

Damen felt it then, the first dizzy edge of new emotion, and he let go his hold of Laurent like a man fearing a precipice; and yet was helpless.

Auguste was like you,’ said Laurent. ‘He had no instinct for deception; it meant he couldn’t recognise it in other people.

Because a king maker would always choose the weaker man. The weaker the man, the easier he is to control.

I intend to survive, I intend to beat my uncle, and I will fight with every weapon that I have.’ ‘You mean that.’ ‘I mean to win. Did you think I was here altruistically to throw myself on the sword?’ Damen

Jord was right. He had owed Laurent the truth, and he hadn’t given it to him.

they had no idea what they did when they gifted me with you.

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. Anything

Damen thought privately that princes needed seasoning not protection. Laurent in particular. He had seen Laurent open his mouth and strip paint from the walls. He had seen Laurent lift a knife and in cold blood slit open a man’s throat without so much as a flicker of his golden lashes. Laurent didn’t need to be protected from anything.

I don’t understand how your uncle has you backed this far into a corner. You can outplay him. I’ve seen you do it.’ Laurent said, ‘Maybe it seems that I can outplay him now. But when this game began I was . . . younger.’ They

Laurent wasn’t here because he had chosen not to be here. And when he thought about goodbye, it was a welling silence full of all the things he couldn’t say. He

His escort arrived. It was six men, and one of them, already mounted, was Jord, who looked him right in the eye and said, ‘You kept your word.’ His

He had maintained from the beginning that he had wanted only his freedom. And that was exactly what he had been given. ‘I always meant to leave,’ he said. He

Fight him I will, but not at the time and place of his choosing.’ ‘And is that your final answer?’ ‘It is.’ ‘In

Damen was breathing hard, his hands clenched into fists. How dare you talk that way about my father. The words were on his lips. His mind pulsed and throbbed. Laurent

It was what Laurent had been holding in his right hand when Damen entered. The blue sapphires of Nicaise’s earring. The

He didn’t take his eyes off Laurent. ‘Arrest me,’ said Damen. ‘I have raised hands to the Prince.’ The

There were some notable absences. Orlant. Aimeric. Jord. The

Wait,’ said Aimeric. ‘You really think Jord has seen it?’ And then he flushed as though he had given something away. *

Laurent asked, ‘Is it different than with a man?’ ‘Yes,’ said Damen. It was different with everyone. He didn’t say this aloud;

You have me over the back of your horse.’ ‘It’s not like you to give up the reins,’ Damen couldn’t help saying. ‘Well, I can’t see the way over your shoulders.’ ‘We

Hail to the Prince, and closer to, his own name repeated, Damen, Damen. *

Damen was swept away by servants, by well-wishers. The last thing he heard was Laurent saying, ‘See to my Captain. Tonight he is to have anything that he asks for.’ *

It’s not a trick,’ said Laurent. ‘You’d let me go,’ said Damen. This time it was Laurent who was silent, gazing back at him. Damen said, ‘And—until then?’ ‘Until then, you are my slave, and I am your Prince, and that is how it is between us.

But I won’t be unprepared. Pretty little Aimeric is going to give up everything he knows, and when I’ve wrung every last word out of him maybe I’ll send what’s left to my uncle.’ Damen

He felt Jord draw up beside him. ‘He’s gone for a ride,’ said Jord. ‘It was his habit in the palace, too, when he needed to clear his head. Not the type for goodbyes.’ ‘No,’ said Damen. He

Lazar stepped forward and said, ‘Captain. It was an honour to serve with you.’ It was an honour to serve with you. Those words echoed in his mind. ‘No,’ he said. ‘The honour was mine.’ And

I’ll stay,’ said Damen. ‘You know I’ll stay for as long as you—’ ‘Don’t,’ said Laurent. ‘Don’t lie to me. Not you.’ ‘I’ll stay,’ said Damen. ‘Three days. After that, I ride south.’ Laurent

Didn’t you hear anything that I just said to you?’ ‘Yes,’ said Damen. ‘You tried to hurt me, and you have. I wish you would see that what you have just done to me is what your uncle is doing to you.’ He

He would never have known Laurent for what he was; never have given Laurent his loyalty or held Laurent’s trust for a moment in his hands. Guerin moved to strike the gold from his left wrist, and he pulled it back. ‘No,’ he heard himself say. ‘Leave that one on.’ Guerin

But there is no King,’ said Laurent, ‘in Vere.’ His voice carried too. ‘The King my father is dead.’ He said, ‘Speak the name of the man who profanes his title.’ ‘The King,’ said the herald, ‘your uncle.’ ‘My

Reporting to Jord, Damen found himself caught in a conversation that he wasn’t ready for. ‘I could tell from your face. You didn’t know he could fight.’ ‘No,’ said Damen. ‘I didn’t.’ ‘It’s in his blood.’ ‘The Regent’s men seemed just as surprised as I was.’ ‘He’s private about it.

Laurent would have been thirteen but in Damen’s mind’s eye he would have found him a little older, sixteen or seventeen, old enough that Damen’s nineteen-year-old self could have begun, with all the exuberance of youth, to court him. He

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

It would not be like this. It would be a systematic campaign moving southward towards Ios, building on the support he had from the kyroi factions. He would not be stealing out of camp at night to spin mad plans, to dress in unfamiliar clothes and forge alliances with rogue clans, or to fight alongside pony-riding warriors, capturing bandits improbably in the mountains. It would not be like this again.

In my culture, it is customary to reward for good service,’ said Laurent, after a long pause. ‘Is there something you want?’ ‘You know what I want,’ said Damen. ‘I am not going to release you,’ said Laurent. ‘Ask for something short of that.’ ‘Take

A lot depends on timing. We have a rendezvous in two days. I—Don’t be late.’ ‘Trust me,’ said Laurent with a single bright glance, straightening his horse out with the tug of a rein in the moment before the order was called, and he and his men moved out. *

I—’ ‘Say it.’ ‘I’m going to leave tomorrow,’ said Damen, as steadily as he could. ‘I’m not going to come back.’ He drew in a breath that hurt his chest. ‘Laurent—’ ‘No, I don’t care. Tomorrow you leave. But you’re mine now. You’re still my slave tonight.’ Damen

Ravenel’s forces on the hill began to split into a widening v-shape. ‘They’re moving to flank us. Have they mistaken us for an enemy troop?’ said Jord, confused. ‘No,’ said Laurent. ‘There is still a path open to us, to the north,’ said Damen. ‘No,’ said Laurent. A

Damen said, ‘I will help you in whatever way I can, but there will be no time for anything but hard work, and you will have to do everything right.’ Laurent lifted his chin and replied with every bit of cool, galling arrogance he had ever shown. ‘Watch me,’ he said.

To take off the collar required a blacksmith. He

And then Damen saw why he was here. He

There were twenty-five Regent’s men: a herald and two dozen soldiers. Laurent, opposing them on horseback, was alone. He

The King of Vere sends a message,’ said the herald. His

The soldier pulled the bag away from the severed head. It

You’ve outstayed your welcome,’ said Laurent. ‘Don’t do this. If you ride to meet your uncle unprepared you will lose everything you’ve fought for.’ ‘But

He dismounted. ‘Are you here to kill me?’ said Jord. ‘No,’ said Damen. There was a silence. They stood two paces apart. Jord had a knife drawn, and held it low, a white-knuckled fist around the hilt. Damen said, ‘You haven’t told him.’ ‘You don’t even deny it?’ said Jord.

He had to say again, ‘Do it.’ The darker-haired soldier stepped forward and Damen felt the grip take him. Laurent set his jaw. ‘No,’ said Laurent. And then, ‘It was provoked.’ Another

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.’ ‘What?

Strip him,’ said Laurent. ‘Confiscate his horse and his belongings. Turn him out of the keep. There is a village two miles to the west. If he wants to badly enough, he’ll survive the journey.’ He

My honourable barbarian. I wouldn’t have picked that as your type.’ ‘Type?’ ‘A pretty face, a devious mind and a ruthless nature.’ ‘No. That isn’t—I didn’t know she was . . . I didn’t know what she was.’ ‘Didn’t you?’ said Laurent. ‘Perhaps I . . . I knew she was ruled by her mind, not her heart.

I said that’s enough,’ said Laurent. Damen was silent. It took a great deal of effort. Laurent was staring at him with a frown. ‘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?’ ‘Govart

I prefer that,’ said Aimeric, quickly. ‘I mean that I prefer to be part of a company that can fight. I’m a fourth son. I admire hard work just as . . . I admire men who can rise above their birth.’ He said that last with a look at Jord. Damen wisely made his excuses and rose, leaving them alone together. *

Laurent lifted his blade and drove it through Govart’s body; not through his stomach, or chest, but through his shoulder. A slice or a shallow cut was not going to be enough to stop Govart, and so Laurent braced the hilt of his sword against his own shoulder and used the whole weight of his body to drive it in harder and stop Govart’s motion. It was a trick used in boar hunting when the spear wounded but did not kill: brace the blunt end of the spear against the shoulder, and keep the impaled boar at bay. Sometimes

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. Perhaps Govart sensed Laurent’s intention, because the third time he lost his sword, his mind snapped. Throwing aside the conventions of a duel was preferable to the humiliation of a drawn-out defeat; he abandoned his sword and simply charged.

He could do none of that. But if there was something that Laurent wanted, he could give it to him. He could deal the Regent a blow from which he wouldn’t recover. If the Regent wanted Damianos of Akielos standing alongside his nephew, he would get him. And if he couldn’t give Laurent the truth, he could use everything else he had to give Laurent a definitive victory in the south. He was going to make these three days count. *

The men think you bend me over inside the tent,’ said Laurent. He said it in the same calm way he said everything. Damen fumbled the vambrace. ‘It would erode my authority. My carefully cultivated authority. Now I have really surprised you. Perhaps if you were not a foot taller, or quite so broad across the shoulders.’ ‘It’s

And Nikandros of Delpha stared back at him, and in a shocked voice, speaking the words half to himself, said, ‘It’s not possible.’ ‘Old friend, you have come to a place where nothing is as any of us thought.’ Nikandros

Jord put a hand on Aimeric’s back. ‘After the first few times, you stop throwing up,’ he heard Jord say. ‘I’m fine,’ said Aimeric. ‘I’m fine. I just, I’ve never killed anyone before. I’ll be fine.’ ‘It’s not an easy thing,’ said Jord. ‘For anyone.’ And then: ‘He was a traitor. He would have killed the Prince. Or you. Or me.’ ‘A

Guerin shrugged, turned and with impersonal motions tipped the collar and the cuff segments into a cloth, and wrapped it, before passing it to Damen. Damen took the makeshift bag. The weight was surprising. Guerin said, ‘The gold’s yours.’ ‘A gift?’ he said, as he might have said to Laurent. ‘The Prince doesn’t need it,’ said Guerin. *

A fourth son, thought Damen, waiting for someone to notice him. When he wasn’t trying to please, he was baiting authority, as though negative attention could substitute for the approval that he sought—that he had been given, once, by Laurent’s uncle. I’m sorry, Jord. They were the last words anyone would have from him. He had killed himself.

And as Damen looked out, the army was dropping to its knees, until the courtyard was a sea of bowed heads, and silence replaced the murmur of voices, the words spoken over and over again. ‘He lives. The King’s son lives. Damianos.

They gazed at one another. It was a public goodbye, in full view of the men. Laurent extended his hand. He did it not, as a prince might, for Damen to kneel and kiss, but as a friend. There was acknowledgement in the gesture, and as Damen took his hand, in front of the men, Laurent held his gaze. Laurent said, ‘Take care of my fort, Commander.’ In

Damen found himself facing Jord. He didn’t need to look up to see the position of the sun. ‘I’m going to stop him,’ said Damen. ‘What are you going to do?’ ‘It’s noon,’ said Jord. The words sounded harsh, like they hurt his throat. ‘He needs me,’ said Damen. ‘I don’t care if you tell the world.’ And he rode his horse past Jord, onto the dais. Dismounting

And if you want a personal message,’ said Laurent, ‘You can tell my uncle boykiller that he can cut the head off every child from here to the capital. It won’t make him into a king, it will simply mean he has no one left to fuck.’ Laurent

Where’s Laurent?’ An attendant was approaching the bed. ‘You are to be taken from Ravenel and escorted directly to the border.’ ‘Escorted?’ ‘You will rise and ready yourself. Your collar and cuffs will be removed. You will then leave the fort.’ ‘Where’s Laurent?’ he said again. ‘The Prince is occupied with other matters. You are to leave before he returns.’ He

There had been a silence, until Laurent had said, ‘You were right. I haven’t been thinking about it like this.’ ‘Like what?’ said Damen. ‘Like war,’ said Laurent. Now they faced one another on the dais and words rose to Damen’s lips, personal words. But what he said was, ‘Are you sure you want to leave your enemy in charge of your fort?’ ‘Yes,’ said Laurent. They

My uncle plans everything,’ said Laurent, as though reading Damen’s thoughts. ‘He plans for victory and he plans for defeat. It was you who never quite fit . . . You’ve always been outside of his schemes. For everything that my uncle and Kastor planned,’ said Laurent, as Damen felt himself grow cold, ‘they had no idea what they did when they gifted me with you.’ *

I’ve never seen a throw like that,’ said Laurent. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it. Every time I see you fight, I wonder how it is Kastor got you in chains and onto a ship to my country.’ ‘It was . . .’ He stopped. It was more men than I could handle, he almost said. But the truth was simpler, and tonight he was honest with himself. He said, ‘I didn’t see it coming.’ He

He saw the man see all of that first, and then he saw the man see him. ‘The last time we spoke, the apricots were in season,’ said Damen, in Akielon. ‘We walked in the night garden, and you took my arm and gave me counsel, and I did not listen.’ And

Did you think,’ said Laurent, ‘if you threw down a challenge to fight, I would not accept it?’ The Patran troops filled the eastern horizon, bright under the noonday sun. ‘My scorn and contempt,’ said Laurent, ‘are not in need of your leniency. Lord Touars, you face me in my own kingdom, you inhabit my lands, and you breathe at my pleasure. Make your own choice.’ ‘Attack.

He knew what was in their eyes, visible now beneath the hostility. It was terror. He could feel the tension of the Akielon forces too, knew they were expecting treachery. The first sword drawn, the first arrow loosed, would unleash a killing force. A

It couldn’t carry a rider. Damen brought his own horse over, then paused. ‘My proportions are better suited to riding pillion than yours are,’ said Laurent. ‘Mount. I will mount behind.’ So Damen swung into the saddle. A moment later he felt Laurent’s hand on his thigh. Laurent’s toe nudged into the stirrup. Laurent pushed up behind him, shifting until he was snug in position.

You want to hear the truth about my uncle? I’ll tell you,’ said Laurent, a new light in his eyes. ‘I’ll tell you what you couldn’t stop. What you were too blind to see. You were in chains while Kastor was cutting down your royal family. Kastor and my uncle.’ He

He said it as it opened up inside him, ‘They are our reinforcements.’ The truth was marching towards him. His past was coming to Ravenel, a steady, unstoppable approach. Damen and Damianos. And Jord was right. There had only ever been one of him. He said, ‘Open the gates.’ *

Damen knew his body now. He knew the surprise that gentle attention could draw from him. He knew his lazy, dangerous assurance, his hesitancies . . . his sweet, tender hesitancies. He knew the way that he made love, a combination of explicit knowledge and almost shy reticences. Stirring

Stirring drowsily, Laurent shifted a fraction closer and made a soft, unthinking sound of pleasure that Damen was going to remember for the rest of his life. And then Laurent was blinking sleepily, and Damen was watching Laurent grow aware of his surroundings and come awake in his arms. He

Nikandros didn’t speak again. He just stared in silence, white as one who had been struck a blow. Then, as though one leg gave out, and then the other, he dropped slowly to his knees, an Akielon commander kneeling on the rough trampled stones of a Veretian fort. He said, ‘Damianos.’ Before

Damen felt the shock of surprise, and looked at Laurent only to find Laurent gazing back at him without rancour. The moment stretched out. It wasn’t . . . it wasn’t what he had expected Laurent to say. As he gazed at Laurent, the words moved through him in unexpected ways, and he felt them touch something jagged-edged within him, felt them shift it a first, tiny fraction, something lodged hard and deep, that he had thought immovable.

Laurent, he thought, and lifted his gaze to meet the eyes of the man who had witnessed the last words of Lord Touars. It wasn’t Laurent. It was Jord. He was staring at Damen in horror, his sword lax in his hand. ‘No,’ said Damen. ‘It’s not—’ The final moments of the battle faded around Damen, as he came to full comprehension of what Jord was seeing. Of what Jord, for the second time that day, was seeing. ‘Does he know?’ said Jord. He

I’m to give this to the fort Commander,’ and he was urgently pressing something into Damen’s hand. Damen stared at it. Behind him, the Akielon army was approaching. In his hand was a hard loop of metal set with a carved gemstone, the etching a starburst. He was looking at Laurent’s signet ring. He

Laurent,’ he said, and he was breaking apart. To get what you want, you have to know exactly how much you are willing to give up. Never had he wanted something this badly, and held it in his hands knowing that tomorrow it would be gone, traded for the high cliffs of Ios, and the uncertain future across the border, the chance to stand before his brother, to ask him for all the answers that no longer seemed so important. A kingdom, or this. Deeper

Damen turned his eyes to Laurent. A picture of cool, difficult distance confronted him. Laurent sat in brief conversation, wrist balanced on the edge of the great table, fingertips resting on the base of a goblet. 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. As

I am not going to reciprocate.’ Damen looked up. ‘What?’ Laurent said, ‘I am not going to do that to you.’ ‘And so?’ ‘Do you want me to suck your cock?’ said Laurent, precisely. ‘Because I don’t plan to. If you are proceeding on the expectation of reciprocity, then you had best be forewarned that—’ This

I came with you to stop a war,’ said Damen. ‘I came because you were the only thing standing between Akielos and your uncle. It’s you who’ve lost sight of that. You need to fight your uncle on your own terms, not on his.’ ‘I can’t.’ It was a raw admission. ‘I can’t think.’ The words were torn out of him. Wide-eyed in the silence, Laurent said them again in a different voice, his blue eyes dark with the exposure of the truth. ‘I can’t think.’ ‘I know,’ said Damen. He

My uncle has killed his catamite,’ said Laurent. ‘As a message to us. And what is the message?’ His voice carried. ‘That his favour cannot be trusted? That even the boys in his bed see how false is his claim to the throne? Or that his hold on power is so flimsy that he fears the words of a bought child whore? ‘Let

And then there was a burst of activity from the lower gate, and a rider came into the courtyard: it was Laurent. He was not here in a last-minute change of heart. Damen only had to look at Laurent to know that he had intended to stay away until Damen was gone, and was not pleased to have been forced to return early. He

After a long moment Laurent said, with painful honesty, ‘I . . . find it difficult to let go of control.’ ‘No kidding,’ said Damen. There was a drawn-out pause. And then: ‘You want to take me, as a man takes a boy.’ ‘As a man takes a man,’ said Damen. ‘I want to take pleasure in you, and to please your body with mine.’ He

You were looking for me?’ Laurent didn’t answer, and Damen couldn’t interpret his expression. ‘What is it?’ said Damen. ‘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. Laurent

I prefer to think my way out of traps,’ said Laurent, ‘rather than use brute force to simply smash through.’ The words had the air of finality to them. Damen nodded and began to rise when Laurent’s cool voice stopped him. ‘That’s why I think we should fight,’ said Laurent. ‘It’s the last thing I would ever do, and the last thing that anyone, knowing me, would expect.’ ‘Your Highness—’ began Jord. ‘No,’ said Laurent. ‘I have made my decision. Call in Lazar. And Huet, he knows the hills. We plan the fight.’ Jord

It’s morning,’ said Laurent. ‘We slept?’ ‘We slept,’ said Damen. They were gazing at one another. He held himself still as Laurent reached out and touched the plane of his chest. Despite the rising sun they were kissing, slow, fantastic kisses, the wonderful drift of hands. Their legs tangled together. He ignored the feeling inside him and closed his eyes. ‘Your

The strongest move you can make right now is to take Fortaine. It will give you full control of the south. With Ravenel, Fortaine and Acquitart you’ll hold Vere’s southern trade routes to Akielos as well as to Patras. You already hold the southern routes to Vask, and Fortaine gives you access to a port. You’ll have everything you need to launch a northern campaign.’ There

He pulled himself away and gave up his right wrist to Guerin. The collar with its latch had been a simple matter to a blacksmith, but the cuffs needed to be struck off with a chisel and mallet. He had come to this fort a slave. He would ride out of it Damianos of Akielos. It was like shedding a skin, discovering what lay beneath. The first cuff sprang apart under Guerin’s rhythmic strikes and he faced his new self. He was not the headstrong prince he had been in Akielos. The man he had been in Akielos would never have served a Veretian master, or fought alongside Veretians for their cause. He

No. I don’t mean—forever—just—’ Laurent broke off. ‘Three days.’ Laurent said it as though producing from the depths the answer to a painstakingly weighed question. ‘I can do this alone. I know I can. It’s only that right now I can’t seem to . . . think, and I can’t . . . trust anyone else to stand up to me when I’m . . . like this. If you could give me three days, I—’ He forcibly cut himself off. ‘I’ll

Laurent looked like what he was: a young man. When laced into his clothing, Laurent’s dangerous grace lent him an almost androgynous quality. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that it was rare to associate Laurent with a physical body at all: you were always dealing with a mind. Even when fighting in battle, driving his horse to some impossible feat, the body was under the control of the mind. Damen

Like a lie, cracking and dropping from him. He looked at the gleam of the gold where Guerin placed it, halved, on the workbench. Veretian shackles. In the curve of its metal was every humiliation of his time in this country, every frustration at Veretian confinement, every indignity of an Akielon serving a Veretian master. Except that it was Kastor who had put the collar on him, and Laurent who was freeing him. It

I can’t—I have to—’ he heard himself say, and the words came out in his own language. Distantly he heard Laurent answer him in Veretian, even as he felt Laurent begin to spill, the pulsing jerk of his body, the first wet stripe of it, hot as blood. Laurent came beneath him, and he tried to experience all of it, tried to hold on, but his body was too close to its own release, and he did as he was bid in Laurent’s fractured voice, and emptied himself inside.

You’re his lover,’ said Jord. ‘I was.’ He owed Jord the truth. ‘We . . . it was the first time. Last night.’ ‘So you told him.’ He didn’t answer, and his silence spoke for him. Jord let out a breath, and Damen spoke then. ‘I’m not Aimeric.’ ‘You ever wonder what it would feel like to find out you’d spread for your brother’s killer?’ Jord looked around the small room. He looked at the place where Aimeric lay. ‘I think it would feel like this.’ Unbidden, remembered words rose up inside him. I don’t care. You’re still my slave tonight. Damen pressed his eyes closed. ‘I wasn’t Damianos last night. I was just—’ ‘Just a man?’ said Jord. ‘You think Aimeric thought that? That there were two of him? Because there weren’t. There was only ever one, and look what happened to him.’ Damen

You’re his lover,’ said Jord. ‘I was.’ He owed Jord the truth. ‘We . . . it was the first time. Last night.’ ‘So you told him.’ He didn’t answer, and his silence spoke for him. Jord let out a breath, and Damen spoke then. ‘I’m not Aimeric.’ ‘You ever wonder what it would feel like to find out you’d spread for your brother’s killer?’ Jord looked around the small room. He looked at the place where Aimeric lay. ‘I think it would feel like this.’ Unbidden, remembered words rose up inside him. I don’t care. You’re still my slave tonight. Damen pressed his eyes closed. ‘I wasn’t Damianos last night. I was just—’ ‘Just

Your inclination appears to be much as it was last night.’ Damen found himself saying, ‘You talk the same in bed,’ and the words came out sounding like he felt: helplessly charmed. ‘Can you think of a better way of putting it?’ ‘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.’ ‘Is it . . . ? I tried to . . . I wouldn’t—’ ‘I like the way it feels,’ said Laurent. ‘I liked the way it felt. You’re a generous, giving lover, and I feel—’ Laurent broke off, and gave a shaky laugh at his own words. ‘I feel like the Vaskian tribe, in the body of one person. I suppose it is often like this?’ ‘No,’ said Damen. ‘No, it’s—’ It’s never like this. The idea that Laurent might find this with someone else hurt him. ‘Does that betray my inexperience? You know my reputation. Once every ten years.’ ‘I can’t,’ said Damen. ‘I can’t have this for just one night.’ ‘One night and one morning,’ said Laurent, and this time it was Damen who found himself pushed down onto the bed. *