Silence was his only response as Eiri fought to breathe. Kien’s words hit with the force of a tsunami, crashing over his head and pulling him beneath the surface. Beneath the waves, Eiri floundered, struggling to orient himself, to rise from the murky depths threatening to pull him down into the darkness.
He’d known, of course. Known he would live in Vaetreas as a lord, even if he hadn’t anticipated sharing quarters with his new husband. He’d known it would be difficult to visit his family and that they would be just as unwelcome in Lodie as he was. He’d known all of this, but until Kien pushed him, he realized he hadn’t fully understood. In the back of his mind, all of this had still felt temporary, like this was some trial he must get through before he could return home.
Except… there was no going home for him. This was his home. This ridiculous palace in this city full of ostentatious Vaetrean elitists, in an uptight country he hated with every fiber of his being, was now his home and he was going to spend the rest of his life here. No more mornings on the ocean, sitting in his little boat and watching the sunrise. No afternoons at the docks, helping fishermen unload their catch and repair their nets. No evenings on the beach, sitting around bonfires with everyone in the village, eating the day’s catch and singing old sea songs.
Suddenly, his entire life stretched out before him, as barren as the desert and just as unforgiving. What would those days upon days look like now? No one had given him expectations or duties, and he doubted that would ever change. Who here would see past their prejudice to trust a Canjiri with royal duties? His days would be empty, his life meaningless.
“Eiri?”
Kien’s concern helped bring him back to the surface, but only just. The waves and tides still gripped his legs, pulling athim, trying to drag him back into the abyss. He couldn’t let himself fall apart, though. Not in front of Kien.
“I’m okay,” he lied, and he hated the weakness in his voice. Clearing his throat, he tried again, and the words came out stronger this time. “I’m fine. I guess it just hadn’t fully sunk in yet. Thank you for reminding me, though.”
“Are you sure? I had hoped we would have this conversation at a later date, once everything was more settled.” Kien’s voice sounded odd, almost muffled, as though Eiri were underwater. A strange lassitude settled over him as the walls of the small room closed in around him.
“I’m sure.” He got to his feet, his movements slow, as though mind and body had disconnected. “I’m going to go get ready for lunch. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
“Eiri—”
“I’ll see you this afternoon,” he repeated and left the room before Kien could stop him. In the hallway, though, he hesitated. The idea of going back to Syrus’ bedroom was unfathomable, but where else could he go? He hadn’t explored anywhere else in the palace.
Voices down the corridor made the decision for him. He wanted to be wherever the Vaetreans weren’t.
The feeling of disconnection grew as he wandered blindly through the palace, turning at random whenever he heard or saw anyone. Most of the courtiers he saw openly stared at him, not bothering to hide their sneers and whispered insults. A few tried to stop him, but he avoided them with ease. The hallways grew smaller, less ornate, the few people he passed dressed in older clothing that looked far more comfortable than the stiff layers the nobles wore. Servants corridors, then. At least none of them tried to stop him.
Eiri followed the hallways until he stepped through a door and suddenly found himself bathed in sunlight. After the dimlylit corridors, the brilliant shine made his eyes water. He blinked, but his vision only grew worse, watering despite his best attempts to stave off the tears. His chest was too tight, his ribs aching and heart racing.
The sound of a door opening behind him spurred him into action, and he ran. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he needed to get away from people before he fell apart. A flash of green caught his attention and he followed it until he found himself surrounded by tall bushes and hedges. A garden of some sort. It was likely beautiful, but all Eiri cared about was that no one else was around.
He went deeper into the massive garden, blind to everything around him, needing space, to be away. His whole body ached, and each breath was more difficult than the last. Every rapid beat of his heart echoed in his ears, driving the snarled panic to a fever pitch, nipping at his heels no matter how fast he ran.
A sudden jolt, a distant pain in his foot, and the ground rose to meet him. The sudden fall knocked the air from his lungs and broke the dam within him. There in the garden, dirty and aching and breathless, Eiri finally fell apart.
Chapter 8
Syrus
“Farlin tellsme you refused to cooperate with the tailor?” Syrus carefully kept himself neutral. He was getting better at keeping his emotions off his face. He’d developed a constant ache in his jaw from gritting his teeth, but it was a small price to pay. A week now, he’d been sleeping on the floor of his own bedroom and at first, it had seemed to work. Eiri hadn’t been as argumentative and the two of them had managed brief conversations without attempting to kill each other. All that had changed a few days ago, though, and while his new husband wasn’t as hostile as he’d been, he’d become more stubborn, clinging fiercely to his Canjiri ways.
“That’s correct,” Eiri said. “I have clothing of my own. Quite a bit of it, actually. Until the tailor is willing to listen to my preferences and wishes, I’m not going to meet with her.”
“You are in Vaetreas. Because you married me, you are one of us now. You need clothing that reflects that. Your clothing from the island is fine for informal settings.” The lie nearly stuck in his teeth before he got it out.
“I have formal clothing as well. I don’t need to be stuffedinto… that.” Eiri’s gesture encompassed the length of Syrus’ body.
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? It’s not even formal wear. It’s just everyday clothing,” he protested. His shirt buttoned to just below his throat, unlike the stiff collars of his dress clothes that rose to his chin. His waistcoat today was a simple one, only one cinch at the back, and his trousers had only one row of buttons on each side to secure them. He’d forgone a jacket and cravat, even.
“You can’t even put it on without help from your valet. How is that normal?”
“It’s Farlin’s job to help me prepare for the day. Is that the issue? Should I assign you a valet?” Perhaps he should have already done so, to get him used to the process.
“No!” Eiri protested immediately. “No, I don’t need anyone to help me dress. What I’m wearing is fine.”
Syrus raised an eyebrow. This evening, Eiri wore loose trousers that flowed around his legs, soft green in color, contrasting with the dark grey of his tunic. The sleeves cut off just above his elbow, baring his arms in an obscene fashion. While it did look comfortable, it was entirely unsuited for anywhere outside the privacy of the bedroom.
“The only people who go out in public with their arms bare are farmers and prostitutes. You are royal by marriage. You need to dress accordingly.”
“I’d rather be mistaken for a prostitute than wear the clothing the tailor brought with her,” Eiri said, wrinkling his nose. “She claimed it’s fashionable for men of my build to wear a corset to emphasize it. I’m still not sure if she meant it as a compliment or an insult.”
