A Swithin Spin: A Princely Passion (4 page)

“Thanks,” Kilan replied, sounding surprised rather than sarcastic for once. He straightened up. They stood close, silent, gazes flicking as if they studied each other, as if noticing things previously unseen. Antal could accept having learned something of the young prince today, but what was Kilan seeing --
learning
-- about him? The strained atmosphere between them had changed. Once more, Antal grew confused as to what Kilan wanted with him. He experienced the sensation that Kilan would say something quite different to the words that eventually came out of his mouth. He expected some revelation but received no such thing. “See you at the show tonight?”

“Well…I’ll be there. I’ll be on duty,” he said to clarify, still distracted by whatever he felt Kilan hadn’t said. Maybe Kilan didn’t even know what he wanted to say.

“Rather informal duty, I do believe,” Kilan remarked with a grin before striding off.

Antal frowned, the quick change of personality annoying him no end. He’d once taken it as Kilan’s penchant for play, as his way of dismissing things that simply didn’t interest him. Now Antal wasn’t so sure it was that at all. Maybe Kilan deflected things he’d rather not deal with. As for the play, Antal failed to understand the implication. Then he considered what they would see tonight and laughed softly. It would certainly be interesting to see how Uly reacted to the Swithin play. His charge had attended some Swithin performances, but certainly none of this type before.

As Antal left the library, two things occurred to him. Kilan hadn’t paid the small book any attention, so how had he known what Antal was reading? Secondly, for the first time in his life, Antal had stolen something. He’d just taken a book from the library without asking permission. The only way he could ease the twinge in his heart was to silently swear his intention to return it.

Chapter Three

Antal swept his gaze around the brightly lit clearing. The lanterns gave a vivid yellow glow that softened the general atmosphere, making the arena appear smaller than it actually was. Despite the show’s purpose and the number of people milling about, the area felt cozy. The hospitable ambience made Antal relax a little. His idea of relaxation likely differed from everyone else’s, though. Even knowing Uly was in no danger tonight, Antal couldn’t break his training. He particularly didn’t like the fact that the prisoner Crimm was here tonight. He stood at the side in chains, guarded, but he’d been one of those responsible for an attempted political takeover and a threat to Uly’s life, something Antal could not forgive easily. He felt uncertain that he would have been as merciful as Markis, but it was not his place to say what happened to the captive. Crimm was of the Kita, a rather disgraceful race of almost extinct nomads.

Another Kita entered the arena, the woman called Tihea. Antal glanced at Crimm, resisting the urge to march over there and spit in the man’s face. Kita males treated their females abominably. The way the man looked at Tihea was difficult to decipher. He might have believed Crimm regarded the woman with something akin to appreciation if he didn’t doubt the man was capable of such emotions. He failed to understand Markis’s purpose for having Crimm present, but he had no business questioning the Swithin king. So long as the prisoner behaved, he’d keep the peace. If he believed Uly’s life in danger, king or no king, he and Markis would have words.

Antal looked away, checking where Uly now sat. As he looked around, his gaze met Ryanac’s stare and held. He gave Ryanac a quick nod, and Ryanac returned the gesture. They’d just acknowledged their mutual inability not to check for danger: once a guard, always a guard, apparently.

Never off duty
. Antal ignored that internal nagging voice that told him he was being too hard on himself even as he continued to look around.

Attendants dimmed the lanterns. In the ensuing diffuse light, he turned in time to see Markis rest a hand on Uly’s arm. Uly tilted his head a little, leaning toward Markis. Satisfied that all seemed well, Antal finally took his assigned seat.

Sitting predominantly to Uly’s back but slightly to one side, Antal stared at the young man’s profile. Those cool gray eyes stared at the stage, blinking a few moments later as the show began. It crossed Antal’s mind that Uly might sense his stare but felt little surprise when he appeared preoccupied by the sight of the young man on the stage. Antal had seen such shows before, so he took the opportunity to ignore the performance, watch Uly, and sink into his own thoughts.

He loved Uly. That much he knew, but it wasn’t romantic love. Love had many facets; the Swithin learned this simple fact from the time they could walk. Love for a parent, a sibling, a child, a friend, a partner. The Swithin recognized love and compassion for strangers and even for animals. Their race also loved inanimate objects that brought them pleasure. They admired nature and respected her. All this Antal knew, but he couldn’t fathom what he felt for Uly.

He wanted to protect him. He loved him more than a brother but less than a lover. Sex with Uly would feel pleasant, but he didn’t need it or even desire it. Yet he would lay down his life for the young man. Did every Sonndre question their position? Ryanac served as Sonndre to Markis, and they had loved one another since childhood. Had Ryanac ever felt this way?

“Admiration.” The word whispered out of his mouth before he could stop it. Fortunately, with the performance fully underway, no one appeared to hear him.

“Pardon?”

Ryanac’s warm, resonant voice whispering into his ear made Antal jump. He hadn’t realized the other man had moved up beside him and taken the seat next to his. How he had failed to notice the man’s bulk escaped him. Just as well Uly was in no danger; Antal began to fear he truly was losing his ability to protect anyone.

“Do you admire Markis?” Antal whispered, not wishing to dwell.

“That’s a waste of a question,” Ryanac murmured, barely moving his lips. “You know that I do.” Those dark eyes turned in Antal’s direction, the gaze swiftly calculating. “I’ve always admired him. I recognized a good man, one worthy of my attention and my protection. Does that answer what’s troubling you?”

“But many Sonndre are in a sexual relationship with the person they protect. What about Sonndre who aren’t?”

“Ah,” Ryanac said as if he suddenly understood everything. “You’d die for the kingdom, wouldn’t you? You’d die to protect the Swithin people?”

Antal nodded. He would, and not only as a guard but as a person. Even if he had chosen to train at another skill, chosen to become a laborer or scholar, he would go to arms to protect the culture he believed in. He wouldn’t initiate conflict -- he wouldn’t do such a thing without cause and certainly wouldn’t step into a battle without the right training unless left with no other option -- but he would seek to protect all that he held dear from those who would interfere or threaten the Swithin race. When Markis’s father maintained power, the Swithin had often conquered other nations, including Uly’s. Now that Markis held the position of king, he was changing the system into more of an alliance of races.

“Then you’d die to protect something you believe in. The thing you believe worthy of your protection can be a place or the people who live there. It can also be an individual person.”

Ryanac spoke to Antal even though he stared at the man onstage who displayed a clearly defined stomach. Antal felt certain Ryanac’s grin was owing to the sight of rippling muscle. Markis leaned sideways to whisper something in Uly’s ear. The young man’s face broke out into an expression of silent laughter, and then Uly looked down. Embarrassment? Soft sounds of appreciation whispered through the audience. Antal felt nothing.

Was Uly worthy of his protection? The young man came across as somehow pure and innocent despite what life had done to him. Not even the things Uly had likely learned in bed sullied him. Potential problems arose because Uly wasn’t Swithin born. Uly’s virtue was the true reason that Antal had accepted the position of Sonndre beyond the honor of holding such a title. He’d chosen to do it for Uly’s sake. Sometimes those feelings confused him, not because he wanted anything from Uly but because… Well, surely you should only feel that way about someone you fell in love with?

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh from the mock battle enacted onstage struck harshly through his contemplation. A particularly loud thump drew his attention. One of the men had missed his cue. He grinned at the audience, who laughed at his error, and then tried the movement again. This time he balanced on top of another man in a gravity-defying stance that made even Antal grin.

“This will pass,” Ryanac said. Antal turned to blink at the other man in surprise. “It’s not unusual,” Ryanac whispered after looking at Antal for a moment. “Many Sonndre question their loyalty at least once. In times of trouble, or when duty lies heavy, then it’s easier for most Sonndre to forget they have an emotional investment in their wards. It’s at times of rest that Sonndre grow uneasy, particularly for those who have no spouse or family.”

“I have family.”

“You have parents and siblings. You don’t have a partner or children of your own.”

“What difference does that make? Anyway, I’m young.”

Ryanac grinned upon hearing that statement. “That wasn’t an accusation, but yes, you are young. Too young. Too young to worry too much about love and too young to hold such a position.”

Antal opened his mouth to disagree, but Ryanac turned that grin in his direction. “But quite capable of dealing with the responsibility,” he added.

Coming from Ryanac, that was praise indeed. Heat infused Antal’s face, and he turned his attention to the stage, not wishing to contemplate the idea that he blushed. He couldn’t deny the pleasure, tried to dismiss it as vanity, and failed. Why shouldn’t he feel pleased? Those kind words made him feel more human, and right now that meant more to him than he could express.

The show had progressed. Some of the entertainers exposed powerful torsos. Others dressed in a semblance of women. The “lovers” drew together. Instead of a mock battle, now a mock seduction began. Laughter rippled through the crowd. The narrator spoke another chorus, making Antal realize how little he’d been paying attention. The men performing as women lay on their backs, giving a very good rendition of female arousal. Bodies gyrated. The men above them added a few sounds of their own to the enactment. Along with the action, poetic verses served as narration.

Antal closed his eyes. A sudden, almost overwhelming desire for sex overcame him; he wanted to plunge into someone, but failing that, he’d even lie under someone right now. Opening his eyes, Antal blinked in surprise at the desire. Not only had the inclination for sex served as a quiet companion to the overlying restlessness and recent feelings of aggression, Antal seldom wanted to take the passive role in sex. He liked an encounter on equal terms, but he seldom lay back. Antal almost shook his head, only just stopping the movement in time for fear that Ryanac would notice. He didn’t want any more external questions tonight. He had enough of his own circling in his mind. The sudden need for sex to the point where he’d even consider acting compliant warred inside him, a direct contradiction to the aggressive streak that toyed with him just now. He imagined the act turning into a tussle of wills, and the comet burn him if he didn’t win. Why he had thought just a moment ago he could be anything but dominant in the bedroom was beyond him.

Always in control
. He’d rather not focus on that one aspect of his personality: on his penchant to take control. At work, at play, he always commanded. Even taking orders, his dedication was a type of control, but that was a good thing in a guard of his standing and rank…wasn’t it?

The performance approached the closing stages, and knowing what would occur, Antal grew uneasy. He tried to concentrate on the series of stances performed by the men onstage, one balance after another suggestive of sex and displaying fine physiques and strength. The final poses would be creative as well as explicit. Hands removed strips of cloth, revealing what the fabric had struggled to conceal in the first place. The brightly colored strips floated to earth as if they were tiny flags. Movement ceased.

Onstage, the men posed, but Antal looked elsewhere. Once more, he gazed at Uly’s face. Uly stared, mouth slightly open, his gaze flicking a little as if undecided where to look. What Uly didn’t know was that after the show the men would return to the stage, lightly attired and wearing collars from which leashes hung. They would hand those leashes to their partners or to potential lovers in the crowd. The intention seemed harmless, more suggestive than salacious, but Antal wasn’t sure he could stand to watch it tonight. He couldn’t breathe.

“You may leave,” Ryanac told him softly as if he knew, and despite feeling as though he failed in his duty, Antal slipped from his seat and turned away. He glided unobtrusively from the arena and scurried into the darkness.

* * *

By the comet
! Kilan grimaced. He’d seen Antal disappear from the arena, and rather than stay to see what was always an amusing end to the play, Kilan chose a more interesting prospect. Strangely, the pensive expression on Antal’s face had attracted him more than the performers wandering down from the stage in scanty clothing, offering to share a night of pleasure with anyone who took their fancy. He’d never previously seen such a look on Antal’s face, and he wanted to know what had caused it. He’d given chase but lost sight of Antal almost immediately. Even so, he continued to search, checking out the likely places where a young guard might go. He wandered by Antal’s living quarters, then some areas of the palace, only to end up back out on the streets. He stuck his head into quiet taverns as well as more rowdy ones, surprised to find he shook his head when he encountered friends who called for him to join them for a drink. What was he thinking? Here was entertainment and good company for the taking, and he’d chosen to waste his time looking for someone who barely wanted anything to do with him. It wasn’t as if he looked forward to any kind of relationship with Antal. That would be just plain ludicrous. He should give up this stupid search, this ridiculous quest.