Hen chuckled, too happy, satisfied, comfortable, alive to pretend to argue. “Yes, but you nearly jumped me in the alley, back there.”
“You liked it.”
“That’s not the point. I know you think we don’t have to be as careful anymore…and you’re probably right. But that doesn’t mean we can be disordered. We shouldn’t take anything for granted.” As much as he was inclined to, lately.
Silence. At first, Hendrik assumed Kass was just looking for a way to explain himself. But then the silence stretched on too long, and Hen pulled back a little and rolled onto his side to face him. “Kass? What?”
“I don’t know.” Kass frowned. “I really don’t. I just feel…like, it’s getting closer, you know? There were years where I just—I thought it’d never be my turn, and nothing would ever change. But now, sometimes I just feel it.”
“Feel what?”
“Euphoria,” Kass said slowly. “Holy euphoria, is the only way I can describe it. I really—I mean, everyone’s told me my whole life that I was destined to be a god. But I actually feel it now, sometimes, and it’s wild.”
Hen blinked away a burning sensation in his eyes. “That’s good, right?”
“It’s amazing. It’s what the priests said would happen. I didn’t know how good it would feel. I just want to run and scream and fuck for joy, I guess.” Kass chuckled, low and sweet.
Hendrik reached out slowly, ran his fingers down Kass’s cheek, over his dimple, and down to his neck. It was long and graceful, like the rest of him, like his face, like his legs, like his prick, like his feet. It did seem only fair that, “Everyone will worship you like I do.”
“Not like you do.” Kass grinned. “You’ll be my co-ruler, when I get my palace in heaven.”
Hendrik wasn’t sure that was allowed, even for a god. But every time Kass told him this story about how they’d be together forever in his palace, Hen hoped he came a little closer to believing it. “Tell me about it.”
“We’ll have a huge courtyard with a fountain. And off that will be a room that no one but us, not even our thousands of servants, will be allowed in. Unless we invite them.” Kass laughed and waved his hand around their small, tidy cell. It was adequate, cozy, pretty, even. But it was no palace. “It’ll be covered with pillows—silk covers and tassels, the whole thing.”
“Sounds gaudy.”
“Super gaudy,” Kass said seriously. “It’ll be amazingly bad. And we’ll fuck on every single one of them.”
“How will we keep track?” Hendrik usually asked some silly question or another at this point in the story, though it had little variations depending on their moods. This was a new one.
“We’ll have a list. Oh, no, wait, we’ll make badges. And once we’ve fucked on a pillow we’ll get a badge sewn on it.”
“Genius.” The idea of silken pillows and badges had never been brought up by a priest before, that Hen knew of, but it was heaven; why shouldn’t a god have what he wanted, no matter how absurd? “What about when we run out of pillows?”
“More pillows,” Kass said, still straight-faced. Then burst out laughing. “Okay, no, wait, I can think of something better to collect than sex pillows. You must’ve sucked my brains out, too.”
“I do sometimes think you keep them in your dick,” Hen admitted.
The pillow fight that ensued ended as all their pillow fights had ended for years.
Chapter 2: Mid-District, Stone City
The moon rose full and silver, and Hendrik pulled himself away from Kass and back into the streets of the Stone City. Supper-time scents drifted from windows, up and up sometimes five stories, onions and grains and sometimes a waft of meat if he was in a richer neighborhood. Out here, everyone nodded to him with respect, barring a few brawlers and drunks. Out here, no one knew he was the guard who was fucking his charge, or even that he had one; only that he’d graduated from the Academy, gotten his tabard, and was a member of the Guardhall. That was enough. He kept his hand lightly, casually at his sword hilt, even though he’d never—in eight years of taking this exact same walk every full moon—had to draw it. It was just how he walked, how he’d walked since he was 12 years old.
Sometimes Kass made fun of him for being such a soldier. But gently, with a smile and a glance that said he loved it. Hen had never liked being teased until he met Kass.
When he reached the house where he was born, Hendrik slipped inside the red door and through to the hall quietly. When he reached the second door on the right, he knocked.
“Is that my boy?” came Alara’s voice. “Come in, Hen, no need to knock! Welcome home!”
It hadn’t felt like home in a very long time, which was precisely why Hen always knocked. He opened the door, however, and ducked to come into the sitting room. As usual, it was warm and bright, smelling of old paper and candle grease. “Hello, Alara. Konstantin,” he added when his father came into the room.
“You look fine, son, just fine!” Konstantin announced, holding out a hand and coming to him. “Glad you could make it this moon!”
Hendrik shook his hand and, as usual, felt the tension leaving his body once he was pulled into a one-armed bear hug. He inhaled deeply, smelling the metal-and-soap of his father’s beard. “You look good too, Kon.”
“Every time we see you, you’re taller and more handsome,” Alara insisted, as she always did. “Such a credit to order and light! Can I get you some ale?”
“Please,” he said politely, then sat on the couch Konstantin directed him to. “Where’s Kajja?”
“She’ll be out in a moment,” Alara said, too quickly. “Did you know, she’s to be married?”
Hendrik frowned. “She’s only seventeen.”
“I know! We’re so lucky, too; his family is blooded!” Alara said.
“Never would’ve happened if not for you.” Kon patted his shoulder before dropping into the seat beside him.
It was probably true; their people had never married into the Blood before, but having a guard in the family did wonders. “Does she like him?” he asked.
“Oh, they haven’t met yet,” Alara sing-songed happily, pouring out ale from a large jug and bringing it to him.
“When’s the engagement? Maybe I can come.” Hendrik didn’t know why he said it; he hated all the nonsense around marriages and births. Children made him uncomfortable, and guards who wanted to advance quickly after their charge inherited stayed single, so he was blessedly free of it, himself.
He’d never considered, before, that Kajja might not be. Maybe she didn’t want to be?
“Next new moon, not this one,” Alara replied. “We’re trying to get everything ready. Oh, it’d be so nice if you could come. Everyone would love to see you.”
