Hostage (43 page)

R
ETURN
TO
M
ARATEBO

T
HE
NEXT
morning Rowan woke to the sound of activity from the camp outside. The sun was up, and it was warm, although not uncomfortably so. The blankets had slipped from them in the night, and he had no desire to retrieve them. Rowan checked his digital display and when he saw how early it was, he sank back into the sheepskins with a sigh.

Astrin stirred next to him, and Rowan felt his breath whisper against his shoulder. Rowan absently toyed with Astrin’s hair, which was spread across his chest.

“Good morning,” Rowan whispered. Astrin tilted back his head and looked up sleepily.

“Yes. It
is
a good morning.” Astrin yawned and shifted to caress Rowan’s chest with his fingers. Rowan watched the long, pale digits tracing invisible patterns on his darker skin. He couldn’t help but smile at the contrast.

“We’re very different, aren’t we?”

Astrin looked slightly startled. He’d been lost in contemplation. “Yes… I suppose we are. That’s what’s good, though. You’re stronger than me. You take care of me. And I stop you from doing stupid things and getting into trouble.”

Rowan snorted. “Is that what you think?”

“That’s how it is.”

Rowan shook his head. “Sometimes I wonder if you even live in the same world as I do.”

“Why?”

“You think I’m stronger than you? That’s crazy. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. And as for stopping me from doing stupid things—well, I’m afraid not even you could do that. It comes naturally to me.”

Now it was Astrin’s turn to laugh, until the smile faded into that same intense look Rowan was beginning to recognize and that sent shivers through him. Cupping Rowan’s face, with his fingers laced into his hair, Astrin gently drew Rowan’s head down into a kiss.

Rowan sighed and opened himself completely. The utter surrender was liberating, and he felt safe and cherished in a way he never had before. A worm of fear crept into the pit of his stomach as he wondered where life would take them from here, whether their paths would run parallel or diverge. He couldn’t bear the thought and pushed it away, burying it deeply and surrendered himself to the moment.

Almost as though he’d read his mind, Astrin pulled away.

“What do you think’s going to happen now?”

Rowan cradled his angel close, resting his cheek on Astrin’s spun-gold hair. “Now, I’m going to lie here and drink in the awesome beauty of your face until they call us for breakfast.”

Astrin twirled a strand of Rowan’s hair round his finger and frowned. “I mean after. What happens after, when we get back?”

“Well… we’ll sleep in a dry bed, between soft, cool, cotton sheets, and I will make love to you all night and all day until you can’t get out of bed because you’re too sore to move.”

Astrin shivered, and Rowan’s stomach did a little flip, thinking of their first time. Last night, lying together skin to skin, was more than he’d ever dreamed of. Someday soon there would be more, and he could hardly imagine what it would be like. Shaking his head to dispel the image of Astrin, flushed with desire, lying spread out before him, moaning with pleasure…. He swallowed, struggling to control his body as the image grew brighter.

“Do you ever take anything seriously?” Astrin asked, jolting him out of his daydream.

“I take you seriously.”

“Sometimes.” Astrin frowned. “I’m scared, Rowan. I want to fall asleep next to you every night and wake up next to you every morning, but I don’t see how that can be. We have our responsibilities. We can’t just walk away.”

“We’ll find a way.”

“But how…?”

Rowan silenced him with a kiss, worried by how Astrin’s body trembled against his.

“We’ll find a way,” he repeated with more certainty than he felt and hugged Astrin close. Astrin snuggled his head into Rowan’s shoulder and tightened his arms around him, holding on so tight that it hurt. Rowan bore it without comment.

While Astrin’s body relaxed into sleep, Rowan lay awake, gazing at the roof, his mind whirling. He wasn’t the politician Astrin was, but he knew, had always known, that it was all but impossible for them to be together as things lay. They were heads of separate, and previously warring, Houses. They might have made their peace, but it would take much longer for the people to forgive and forget.

He thought back to a discussion he’d had with his uncle, while Astrin was still their hostage. The people looked to him as the best hope for a bright future. How would they feel about their hero merging their House with the enemy? And surely that was the only way they could be fully together. No, that was never going to happen.

Then what?

Rowan rubbed his face against Astrin’s soft hair and breathed in his scent. No one was going to steal his angel away from him; nothing was going to keep them apart. If they couldn’t be together as heads of their Houses, then maybe they shouldn’t be anymore. Maybe they should be something different. His mind wandered back over the time they’d spent together—the highs and lows. It settled on a certain inn, with a certain man who’d made them an offer. If they couldn’t be princes, maybe they could be mercenaries. They had jobs lined up after all, kind of, and maybe Paulo Atrio would help them.

Although he accepted his dreams of life as mercenaries were very much romanticized, the prospect of being free from the constriction of royal life was very tempting. The prospect of spending every moment caring for and being cared for by Astrin was even more enticing.

Rowan didn’t remember falling asleep, but he woke with a start when Attayak coughed politely, waited a moment, then ducked into the tent. He was carrying a pile of cloth and did not seem in the slightest fazed by the sight of the two naked boys, entwined in each other’s arms.

“I have brought you clothes that will be more comfortable to ride in than your trousers.”

“Ride?”

“Where we are going, motor vehicles would not be wise. We will be riding.”

“Horses?”

“Camels.”

Astrin’s eyes widened. “I’m not so good even on a horse.”

“Do not worry. You will be safe.”

“Okay,” Astrin said, clearly unconvinced. He sought and found Rowan’s hand, which he squeezed tightly.

“The food is ready, and we are already breaking camp. When you have dressed, come to the fire.”

“Thanks.”

When Attayak had gone, the boys picked through the clothing he’d provided, only to descend into helpless laughter as they dressed each other, taking some time to work out how the cloth draped and fastened. In the end, though, they had to admit they looked good.

With his swarthy skin and black hair highlighted by the pale gold cloth striped with shimmering green and blue, Rowan could almost have been taken for a desert dweller himself.

Astrin, on the other hand, with midnight-blue cloth shot with gold thread setting off his pale coloring, looked more like a djinn—the faerie folk who roamed the dunes, wailing in the night and stealing animals and children who strayed beyond the protective circle of lights.

Indeed, when they stepped out of the tent, every face turned and there were whispers and furtive signs against the evil eye on all directions.

“What are they looking at?” Astrin asked, feeling self-conscious in the flowing robes that left him acutely aware that he was naked underneath.

“You. They’ve never seen anything like you. They can’t deal with how beautiful you are,” Rowan whispered, and Astrin blushed.

Hersten and Charles were already sitting at the fire eating a thick, fragrant stew. They both looked up when they heard the stir around them.

In the flowing robes of the desert people, the two princes glowed. The one darkly, and the other… blinding. There was no need to ask what everyone was whispering about.

It was quite incredible how, in the time it took the outsiders to eat breakfast, the tribe demolished and packed away the camp. When they moved out, nothing was left behind but tracks in the sand.

T
HE
JOURNEY
through the desert on camels was… interesting. None of the four found it either easy or comfortable. It was the first time for all of them, and they felt insecure and unsettled the whole way. Of the four of them, Astrin fared worst. His fair skin burned quickly in the hot sun, and although he wrapped the cloth tightly around his body and across his face, within an hour he was burning up.

The sun was relentless, shimmering off the dunes they steadily climbed and descended. They had been given canteens of water, strapped to the saddles of the camels, and told to sip often to keep themselves hydrated in the intense heat.

At first Astrin did his best to remember to drink, but the discomfort of the jolting, chafing saddle between his legs, the stinging pain where his skin was burning, and the cloying heat of the cloth, which was wrapped tightly around him in an attempt to protect his skin, eventually overwhelmed him and, as he got dizzier and dizzier, he entirely forgot about the canteen.

If anyone had been paying attention, they would have seen the way he began to droop over the neck of his animal, almost fading, then being jolted awake by some pain or discomfort that broke through the trancelike daze into which he had fallen. However, the riders around him were oblivious.

By and large the tribe kept back, wary of the strangers, especially of Astrin, who scared them with his pale strangeness. In the beginning riders flanked them, making sure they were able to manage the camels, but they had to ride outflank on the convoy so they drifted away.

Initially Rowan had checked on Astrin every few minutes, knowing the distress he was suffering from the sun and heat, but after the first few hours the discomfort got to him too, and it was as much as he could do to focus on staying in the saddle and drinking sufficient water to keep himself upright.

There was therefore no one watching, no one marking the rapid decline. Astrin was alone, encased in a web of misery that nothing could penetrate—inward or outward. As his head grew lighter, the misery lifted and he no longer experienced, merely existed. Not even his burning skin bothered him anymore. He stopped trying to hold his clothing close to him and the cool breeze that found his body revived him for a while.

Remembering about the water, he reached down to retrieve the canteen. As he did so a wave of dizziness washed over him, and before his fingers touched the leather, he slid out of the saddle. The force of his body hitting the ground drove the air from his lungs, and the sky spun above him, the bright sunshine fading into darkness.

Waking up wasn’t easy. The sand was gritty in his eyes and he was hot and uncomfortable. Something was trickling into his mouth and running down into his hair. He turned his head away and groaned.

“Astrin, drink the water. Please drink the water. They said you have to drink. Please.”

Surprised by the panic and pain in Rowan’s voice, Astrin forced his eyes open, but all he saw was a dark shadow against the blazing sky. He groaned again as the brightness sent slivers of pain stabbing into his head.

“What…?”

He tried to sit up but many hands held him down. At least that’s how it seemed.

“Just relax for a minute. Drink some water.”

Obediently, he reached for the canteen and allowed Rowan to lift him into a more upright position, resting against his side so he could drink. He realized straight away that he was thirsty and the water, although warm and brackish, was welcome. Once the water had slaked his thirst, Astrin began to feel tired and heavy. He leaned his head against Rowan, lifting his hand to massage his throbbing temple.

“What happened?”

“You passed out and fell off the camel. Are you okay?”

“Been better.”

“You forgot to drink, didn’t you?”

“I…. Yes, I think so. I was… I was so hot. The sun was burning my skin, and the saddle was… well, let’s not think what the saddle was doing to me, and… I don’t know, I just… kind of faded out I suppose.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“It never occurred to me. You were all suffering too, and there was no one else around.” He shrugged. “I was okay.”

“Okay? You were out cold, Astrin. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry.” He sat up and although he winced at the pain in his head, he began to feel better. Taking the canteen, he drank deeply again and looked around.

The tribe had erected a simple pavilion of cloth stretched over four poles, to keep the sun off, and he was sitting on a thick carpet that kept the heat of the sun-charged sand from rising. Rowan knelt next to him while Charles and Hersten hovered nearby. There didn’t seem to be anyone else around.

“Where is everyone?”

“They rode on ahead. They have to warn the plane we will be late, and the tribe has other places to be.”

“We’re alone?” Astrin looked alarmed.

“Don’t worry. They’re sending a vehicle back for us. We thought you might have had enough of camels for a while.”

Astrin laughed weakly. “You’re not wrong.”

Hersten crouched in front of him, gazing at him with a worried expression. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes. Gods, I’m sore, though. Did the camel stamp on me?”

“No. But you did hit the ground pretty hard. I healed you as best I could, but there was little I could do for dehydration, and the bruises would take too much energy when they are not dangerous to you. You’ll be sore for a while, I’m afraid. Your face is no picture at the moment either. Your nose and cheeks are sunburned.”

Raising his hand, Astrin brushed his fingers across his cheekbones and winced. “Ow. Why didn’t you heal that?”

“Try not to touch it. Attayak put ointment on it and said it wouldn’t scar, so there was little point.”

“Scar?” Alarmed, Astrin touched his face again. It was sore but didn’t feel too bad.

“Don’t worry. I’ll still love you if you’re disfigured.” Rowan felt like a jerk when Astrin’s eyes widened with fear. Rowan smiled. “Sorry. Bad joke. You look fine… better than fine. You look beautiful.”