Union (5 page)

T
HEY
LAY
there like that for a while longer in comfortable silence, and Nykin could easily have dropped off to sleep.

“I spoke to Cerylea earlier,” Ryneq said, his voice jarring in the silence.

He sounded oddly cautious, and Nykin immediately tensed, suddenly wide-awake.

When he’d said they needed to talk earlier, Nykin had a fairly good idea of what it would be about. Ryneq had just come out of the council meeting, and Nykin was well aware how much Princess Cerylea was pushing Ryneq to make it official between him and Nykin.

“And?”

Nykin propped himself up on one elbow, the mood between them turning serious.

Ryneq sighed, closing his eyes for a second. Nykin watched him rub a hand over his forehead and noticed the dark circles under Ryneq’s eyes. His chest ached a little at the realization that he was probably one of the main causes for that tired look on Ryneq’s face.

“Cerylea wants us to have the announcement ceremony, doesn’t she?” Nykin asked.

Ryneq opened one eye and turned to look at him, his resigned expression answering Nykin’s question.

“And you think she’s right.”

It was more of a statement than a question this time, and Nykin wasn’t at all surprised when Ryneq nodded.

“She made some very valid points after the meeting.” Ryneq shifted onto his side, mirroring Nykin. “I know you don’t like all the fuss and attention that comes with being my consort.”

Ryneq winced a little as he said the word
consort
, because they both knew how much Nykin hated the title. As far as Nykin was concerned, it implied someone who warmed the king’s bed and little else.

Nykin was a dragon rider in the Torserian Army, and he was fiercely proud of that fact. To be thought of as nothing more than a warm body to keep Ryneq company was both insulting and infuriating. But he wanted to be with Ryneq, and only him. If that meant going through a ridiculous ceremony so the whole of Torsere knew it too, then that’s what he would do. Ryneq had enough to deal with—Cerylea’s wedding and the possible threat of attack from the lowland armies were constantly on his mind. He didn’t need the added pressure of this too. Their relationship shouldn’t be another reason for Ryneq to worry.

He realized he’d been quiet for far too long when Ryneq let out another resigned sigh and reached for his hand.

“Nykin, I—”

“No.”

Nykin cut him off midsentence, and Ryneq looked like Nykin had slapped him. Nykin cursed under his breath, because now Ryneq probably thought he was refusing to do it at all.

“I think your sister’s right,” he added hurriedly, tightening his fingers around Ryneq’s. “I’m sorry for being selfish about this whole thing.” As he said the words, Nykin realized just how true that was. “I’ve been stuck in my room for the past two weeks, and I haven’t really thought about what our relationship means for you as ruler of Torsere.”

Ryneq was watching him intently, and Nykin could already see some of the tension melting away, so he forged ahead. “I know that being with the King of Torsere means I have responsibilities too. I guess I was just trying to ignore that side of it for as long as possible.”

“You’ve been recovering from a serious injury, I didn’t expect you to
—
”

“Let me finish, please.”

The edges of Ryneq’s mouth curved up into the barest of smiles as he nodded for Nykin to continue.

Nykin took a deep breath. He didn’t want to do this, but for their relationship to last—and Nykin desperately wanted it to—then the people of Torsere had to take it seriously. “I think we should have the ceremony soon, before Princess Cerylea’s wedding, if that’s at all possible.”

Ryneq tugged on his hand and pulled him down into a long, lingering kiss. “Thank you.” He slipped his hand into Nykin’s hair, holding him in place, and drawing out a long, low moan.

Nykin relaxed into the kiss. His body felt loose and pliant after all they’d done earlier, and their current conversation had tired him even more. Nykin let Ryneq take the lead, settling back down onto the bed until he was lying on his side once more.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to come around,” Nykin said, eventually drawing back a little.

He yawned suddenly, causing Ryneq to laugh.

“Am I keeping you up?”

Nykin grunted in response, fighting desperately to keep his eyes open, but it was a losing battle. He didn’t resist as Ryneq rearranged them until he was lying on his back with Nykin half slumped over his chest.

A voice in the back of Nykin’s mind helpfully reminded him that he needed to get up soon and go back to his own room, but it was getting fainter with each passing moment, so Nykin chose to ignore it completely. He was warm and comfortable, and the last thing he wanted to do was move.

“Hey.”

Ryneq nudged him gently with his shoulder, and Nykin assumed this was his cue to go. He reluctantly started to roll to the side, but Ryneq wrapped his arm around Nykin’s waist, stilling his movements.

“Stay the night with me.” Nykin lifted his head until he could see Ryneq’s face. “You said you’d move your things in here tomorrow anyway, so you might as well just sleep here tonight.”

Only one lamp lit the room now, but it was more than enough light for Nykin to see. Ryneq’s dark hair stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat from their earlier activities, and he looked at Nykin with such openness that Nykin couldn’t help but smile.

“Okay.” He kissed Ryneq again, two soft presses of his mouth against Ryneq’s lips, before settling his head back onto Ryneq’s chest. “I’ll stay.”

Ryneq’s fingers stroked intricate patterns on the cool skin of Nykin’s back, and Nykin was almost drifting off when he heard it. “I love you.” Ryneq’s voice was barely a whisper in the quiet of their room, and he must have thought Nykin was already asleep, because he sighed softly and his hand stilled.

Nykin’s heart thundered, but he kept as still as possible. Ryneq clearly wasn’t ready to say it to his face, and Nykin didn’t want him to know he’d heard. He’d known to some degree that Ryneq felt that way about him, but hearing the words made it a hundred times more real.
I love you too
.

R
YNEQ
WOKE
early the next morning, as always. He’d been training with the Torserian Guard since he was fifteen years old—his father had believed he should get as much experience as possible before being allowed to lead the palace soldiers—and ten years later, it was just part of his daily routine.

He looked down at Nykin’s head pillowed on his chest and smiled. Nykin was still fast asleep with his arm slung lazily over Ryneq’s belly. He was a comforting weight, warm and relaxed against Ryneq’s body, and for the first time in a long, long while, Ryneq contemplated spending the whole day in bed.

He let his eyes fall closed, enjoying the moment for just a little bit longer, and absently trailed his fingers over the curve of Nykin’s shoulder. Nykin’s skin felt soft, pulled taut over the lean muscle underneath, and Ryneq traced down over Nykin’s back until his hand rested on the jut of Nykin’s hipbone.

He was still a little surprised at how easily Nykin had agreed to go through with the announcement ceremony. Ryneq had been prepared to argue his case, present all the points that Cerylea had made earlier that day, and hope that Nykin would see it from his side. But there’d been no need. Nykin had cut him off before he’d had a chance to do any of it, and Ryneq had been more than a little aroused by Nykin’s assertiveness.

Ryneq had a strong and overbearing personality—he was well aware of that—and it was necessary a lot of the time as the ruler of a kingdom. He needed to instill confidence in his Army and his people, to have his orders followed instinctively and without hesitation. And when Nykin was under his command as a dragon rider, Ryneq would expect him to behave accordingly and follow orders like everybody else. But when they were in private, or Nykin was in the role of king’s consort, Ryneq wanted something quite the opposite.

He needed Nykin to be his equal, to challenge his decisions if necessary, and not back down if he thought Ryneq was in the wrong. The fact that Nykin had risked his life—against orders—should have persuaded him that Nykin was more than capable of holding his own, but Ryneq knew better than most how having your life constantly in danger affected people. Now they were back at the palace, he worried that things would be different, and with Nykin’s injuries, Ryneq had had plenty of time to dwell on this particular topic.

The worry that Nykin wouldn’t be able to treat him as anything other than the king and ruler of Torsere, even when they were alone, had been nagging at him constantly. He’d even discussed it with Cerylea, and she had assured him that Nykin was more than capable of standing up to her “pig-headed brother.”

But it wasn’t until that moment, when Nykin had cut him off midsentence and forced Ryneq to listen to what he had to say, that Ryneq had actually believed it. Now he had no doubts whatsoever that Nykin wouldn’t hesitate to speak his mind when necessary. Thinking of Nykin’s determined look as he’d stared intently at him made Ryneq’s dick stir with interest.

He was half-hard anyway—the closeness of Nykin’s firm, sleep-warm body having the expected effect—but just as he slid his hand down to palm the swell of Nykin’s ass, a sharp rap sounded on the door to his quarters.

Ryneq groaned, giving Nykin’s ass-cheek a gentle squeeze before regretfully removing his hand. He barely had time to pull the covers up over Nykin’s bare torso before the door swung open. Cerylea slipped inside and turned to close the door behind her.

“Sorry to disturb you so early, Brother, but it’s not like you weren’t already”—she eventually swung around to face the bed, and her gaze landed on Nykin—“up.” She smirked and raised one delicate eyebrow. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t realize you had company.”

Cerylea moved to open the door to leave, but Ryneq stopped her. “What can I do for you, Cerylea?” She was here now, so he might as well find out why she needed to see him at such an early hour. He beckoned her closer, gesturing for her to sit next to him on the edge of the bed, but she wrinkled her nose at the crumpled sheets and chose the chair next to it instead.

“Well, there are two things really.” She fingered the edges of the thick dark blue cloak she wore over her dress. Ryneq wasn’t surprised to see that she was already dressed for the day. Cerylea was as much an early riser as he was, and the palace had a chill about it before the sun had a chance to warm it through.

“Which are?” he prompted, lowering his voice when Nykin shifted in his sleep.

“I made some tentative arrangements yesterday for your announcement ceremony, on the assumption that Nykin agreed.”

Ryneq couldn’t help the eye roll that followed her declaration, because of course she wouldn’t wait until he’d actually spoken to Nykin before starting to plan the damn thing. She at least had the grace to look slightly guilty, but it was a fleeting expression at best.

“Well it’s just as well he said yes, then.”

Cerylea bounced in her seat, a wide smile breaking out, and Ryneq laughed softly at her enthusiasm. He loved seeing her so happy, and after the events of the last few weeks, it was exactly what they both needed. “And it also happens that he’s of the same opinion as you—the sooner the better,” he added. Cerylea was practically vibrating by this point, and he could see her mind working.

“So much to do,” she muttered, clapping her hands together and standing up.

“Wait.” Ryneq reached out to tug on her cloak. “You said there were two things. What was the second?”

“Oh, yes.” Cerylea settled back down onto the chair and fished a folded piece of parchment out of one of her pockets. “I received word from Morkryn this morning.” She waved the letter under Ryneq’s nose so he could see the crest of Alel—a large tree, its branches curled up toward the sky and the elven symbol for water carved into its trunk. “It came by
egrath
again.” Cerylea scrunched up her nose in distaste. “Gods, I hate those things.”

Ryneq grinned. In Torsere and the surrounding kingdoms, their letters were taken on horseback, but since Alel didn’t like to send out riders if they could help it, they sometimes used a different method. They used
egraths
—large birds with silver-tipped black feathers, black beaks, and long sharp talons. With the bridge now destroyed, it was just as well. “Did it bite you this time?”

“No.” She shuddered. “It just dropped the letter on my balcony, glared until I picked it up, and then flew off.”

Ryneq carefully lifted Nykin off his chest—he doubted very much that Nykin was still asleep, but if he wanted to pretend, then Ryneq wasn’t going to stop him. Judging by the way Cerylea was eyeing Nykin, though, Ryneq didn’t think she was fooled either. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed to get a closer look at the letter, keeping the sheet firmly in his lap. “What does he have to say?”

Cerylea quickly snatched the letter away, out of Ryneq’s reach. Her cheeks colored slightly, and Ryneq bit back another laugh. He could well imagine some of what was in that letter, because elves were notorious flirts.