Soren nodded, pushing his chair back from the table. “Thank you for the meal. Better than the field rations, that’s for sure.”
“One would hope.”
“The rock crystal didn’t last long enough for Raiah, but the House of Vikandir rectified that once we were inside their home. Speaking of, I still have your writ.”
Vanya waved off that statement as they exited the dining room. “Keep it for now. You may need it again.”
He hoped he wouldn’t need to send Raiah away out of the line of fire again, but if he did, he wanted Soren to have the means to keep her safe on hand.
Soren fell into step beside Vanya as he led the way through the grand hallways to a side entrance that opened out into a small side garden. It wasn’t as large as the one in the rear of the palace, but it bordered them, and a pathway branched off it toward the star temple.
Vanya didn’t lead Soren to the star temple but down the pathway that would take them through the heart of the garden. The tents and tables from earlier were gone now, and the moon overhead was nearly full, pale moonlight mingling with the soft amber glow of the gas lamps. Thepraetorialegionnaires on guard duty kept their distance, allowing Vanya some bit of privacy with his warden.
Walking these pathways at night had become a tradition since he’d been crowned. The quiet of the garden was deceptive, as beyond the palace walls lay the vibrancy of Calhames. But this oasis brought him some bit of peace, a false sense of having all the time in the world to work out the problems laying siege to his empire.
He’d missed the nights when Soren joined him, and having the warden by his side again loosened Vanya’s shoulders in a way little else did. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around Soren’s wrist, squeezing gently.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Soren said in an amused voice.
Vanya shrugged. “For now.”
Soren deftly twisted his hand free, tangling their fingers together in a discreet hold that no one else saw beneath the stars. Vanya had kept his distance all day, even through the telling of the border report, because Raiah had needed him. Here, now, with his daughter asleep and guarded inside the palace and Soren by his side, all he could think about was the feel of warm skin beneath his fingertips and how he wanted more.
It was enough of a want to shift his feet. He led the way back to the palace after time spent in the gardens, enjoying the evening breeze that had lost some of its heat. They returned through a different entrance, one that brought them into the grand hallways of the public wing of the palace. The quickest way back to the family wing led through the throne room in the center wing, and Vanya didn’t hesitate to guide Soren through the grand space.
It looked different at night, most of the gas lamps off and moonlight coming through the stained-glass cupola above the center space. The high windows had been winched open to let in the cool night air,praetorialegionnaires standing in pairs on either side of each of the doors leading into the huge space. The dais with the Imperial throne always had a gas lamp burning over it through opaque glass, a mimicry of the eternal flame that burned for the Dawn Star in star temples across the country.
Their footsteps echoed against the marble floor, the portraits of past emperors and empresses hanging on the walls cast in shadow. Vanya was tugged to a halt beneath the moonlit, faintly colored light spilling through the stained glass and catching the gold flecks in the marble floor. He looked over at Soren, who wasn’t looking at him but at the Imperial throne.
“You know I shouldn’t attend your Conclave,” Soren said, breaking the comfortable silence between them.
“I wish you all the best in saying no to myvalide,” Vanya said mildly.
Soren looked askance at him, exasperation clear on his face in the moonlight. “Vanya.”
“It would aid us.”
“I’m a warden.”
“Yes, but you are also mine.” He felt the shudder that ran through Soren’s body against his own fingertips. Vanya lifted Soren’s hand to his mouth without thinking, brushing his dry lips over scarred knuckles. “Do you doubt my words?”
“I’ve never doubted you,” Soren said with a sureness that made Vanya lick his lips. “But your politics aren’t mine.”
“Aren’t they? Do you truly think the wardens can continue to be neutral in the face of what is happening to the borders and the dead?”
“The Poison Accords don’t allow us to be anything but neutral.”
Vanya lifted his free hand to curl his fingers over Soren’s chin, tilting his head up. He ran his thumb over the seam of Soren’s lips, staring into eyes made darker by the dim light in the throne room.
“And what if your neutrality would damn Maricol as a whole?” Soren said nothing in the face of this question. Vanya pressed his thumb down until he could feel the outline of Soren’s teeth through tender flesh. Then he slipped his thumb between them, stroking over Soren’s tongue. “I won’t argue with you tonight. That is not how I wish your homecoming to end.”
Soren stepped back, letting Vanya’s thumb slip free of his mouth. “How kind of you.”
Then he planted a hand in the center of Vanya’s chest and shoved him gently in the direction of the throne. Vanya raised an eyebrow but didn’t fight the silent guidance. He turned and tugged Soren after him across the throne room. He climbed the steps of the dais before taking his rightful spot on the Imperial throne, never letting go of Soren’s hand.
He pulled Soren between his splayed legs, hooking fingers over the gun belt and giving it a good yank. Soren didn’t lose his balance so much as allow himself to be tumbled onto Vanya’s lap and the throne he sat on.
“Hello, princeling,” Soren murmured before ducking his head to brush his lips over Vanya’s in a teasing sort of kiss.
