“Then I’ll inform the servants to add another place setting to the morning meal in the private courtyard.”
Soren wasn’t sure if that was a wise assumption, but he wasn’t going to question it. He passed Caelum and entered the Imperial estate, his feet taking him through familiar hallways, past servants who nodded politely at him andpraetorialegionnaires who never barred his way to the rear of the building, where a stone path led to the private bathhouse.
The domed roof glittered at the base from intricate mosaic work depicting the constellations of the star gods. The pergola above the pathway was draped with sweet-smelling flowering jungle vines.Praetorialegionnaires guarded the entranceway, but none left their posts as Soren approached. He entered the bathhouse, the antechamber slightly cooler than it was outside, the place to disrobe empty save for a pair of bath attendants, who glanced at him before going back to their tasks.
Steeling himself, Soren pressed forward, walking through the arched entryway into a circular space that reminded him of the sea lapping at the shore. The tiled floor was done in deep blue, like the bottom of the ocean, while shades grew lighter as the bits of stone and tile and glass crept up the walls in a mosaic of curling waves beneath a soft sky. The inside of the dome above was lined with golden tiles, the pattern acting as the sun. It was beautiful, but not as beautiful as the man lounging in the steaming pool, watching him approach with keen dark eyes.
Petals floated in the water, the scent of bath oils drifting with the steam, the tray they’d come from sitting close by the bath’s sole occupant. Vanya had his arms stretched along the edge of the pool, water lapping at his waist and sliding down his chest in tiny droplets. He was naked, certainly a sight to behold, but Soren wasn’t sure he had the right to it. He drew to a stop opposite Vanya, toes lined right up to the edge, and waited, never looking away from the other man.
Vanya tilted his head back a little, holding Soren’s gaze, eyes dark with a complicated mix of emotions Soren couldn’t decipher. “Do I owe you another vow for saving my life again?”
His quiet voice seemed to ring loudly against the bathhouse walls, tone leached of emotion, the banal neutrality he used for political adversaries all that remained. Soren couldn’t stop the faint flinch that tugged at him, knowing Vanya would see it. “I never asked for the first one.”
“I remember. I thought at the time I was giving it to a nameless warden. Yet it was a foreign prince who asked for what was owed.” Vanya blinked slowly, almost lazily, but his gaze was sharp like cut clarion crystal. “My Chief Minister seems to think that is my way out of a debt owed by my House through the vow.”
“And would you play your House games with me in such a way?”
“They are all I know.”
Soren sighed before unbuckling his pauldron and the strap holding in place the sheath across his back with its poison short sword. “And all I know is how to be a warden.”
“You came with the vow and asked as an Ashionen.”
“I asked for my people.”
Vanya arched an eyebrow. “Both of them?”
Soren dropped his gear to the floor, then unbuckled his gun belt and the stabilizing holster straps secured around his thighs. He pried it all off, bending to set the heavy leather with its dual pistols beside his poison short sword. “Wardens care for all of Maricol’s children by guarding the borders everyone lives within.”
“You wield starfire. You took the name of a royal bloodline.”
Soren yanked off his gloves, tossing them aside before working on the leather waistcoat, never taking his eyes off Vanya. “I took that name at the behest of my governor. No part of the identity the Ashionens gave me can be found in any genealogy. There is no witness to who they think I am.”
“You can’t be a warden, not as you are.”
Soren’s fingers stuttered over the buttons of his shirt, nearly ripping one out in the wake of Vanya’s words and the bitter truth he spoke. Soren drew in a breath, steadying himself with long practice, and mechanically undid the rest before shrugging off the shirt. “I won’t be a prince.”
“Then what will you be?”
Soren said nothing to that, silent beneath Vanya’s heavy gaze. He pulled off his boots and tossed them aside before stripping out of the rest of his clothes. Then he stepped into the warm water, finding his footing with ease, then waded toward Vanya, who watched him come, still as yet unmoving. Soren closed the distance between them, heartbeat loud in his ears, feeling almost lightheaded when he stepped between Vanya’s spread legs. Despite how close they were, it still seemed as if a vast chasm separated them.
Wardens weren’t supposed to want, he knew, but Soren had always wanted this, had always wanted Vanya. If his road didn’t have Vanya walking beside him, then it wasn’t a road he would travel.
Soren crawled onto Vanya’s lap, their soft cocks brushing together beneath the warm water as he reached with damp hands to frame Vanya’s face. Vanya didn’t try to stop him, and Soren searched those eyes for a long moment before curving in close to press their foreheads together, breathing the same air after far too long apart.
“I once said I could never go home again,” Soren rasped. “But that’s not true. You’re my homeland. Not Ashion, not Solaria, not any road that leads me to a border away from you. I don’t care about the crown you wear or the one I lost.You, Vanya. You are all I have ever wanted.”
Warm, firm hands gripped his waist, fingers digging in hard, but he didn’t push Soren away. Vanya’s voice came out terribly rough, sending a shiver down Soren’s spine. “Soren.”
He pulled back but didn’t go far, mouth hovering over Vanya’s, their lips a breath apart as Soren laid bare all that he was. “I love you, princeling. Do with that what you will.”
For a moment, Vanya was still beneath him, looking at him with wide, dark eyes. Then he surged upward, one hand skimming up Soren’s back to grip his hair as Vanya kissed him with ruinous intent. He tasted like the strong tea Solarians favored, warm and alive beneath Soren’s hands as they stole air from each other. Vanya’s fingers were tangled tight in Soren’s hair, and so when Vanya pulled his head back, breaking the kiss, Soren could only follow where he led.
Warm lips dragged down his throat, teeth scraping against the pulse there. Soren dug his fingers into Vanya’s shoulders when the other man sucked a bruise into his skin. “Vanya.”
“You walked away, and I should never have let you go,” Vanya said harshly.
Soren lifted his hand and touched the side of Vanya’s face where it was tucked so close. “I hurt you. I never meant to, but I did.”
