Wow! Pretty unbelievable considering the source. “Betrothals never stopped you before. Or even slowed you down.”
“True, but this is you and me.” Rufe cupped Draylon’s cheek in one hand, bringing their foreheads together. “You can find happiness, even in this, if you let yourself. He seems a reasonable man. For anything to build between you, I must step away.”
“But—” The finality felt like losing a friend.
Rufe placed a finger over Draylon’s lips. “I’ll love you always and forever watch your back, but let’s face facts. You’re too much of a brother to me. Things were starting to get… awkward. Though standing next to you always gets me called ‘the pretty one.’” He flashed a cheeky grin and settled back in his chair again.
Maybe Draylon wouldn’t lose Rufe’s friendship after all.
“Not to mention, I have this, meaning no self-respecting noble wants me in the family. Certainly not your father.” Rufe displayed the dark ink on his arm, mood sobering. He spoke in mocking tones. “For the sin of being captured by an enemy and reclaimed, I now bear the mark of shame. No one will ever fully trust me again when the enemy could have planted thoughts into my head, strange commands for me to carry out at some future time.” He let out a sigh. “You should have left me there to die.”
Draylon knew the answer before asking, “Would you have left me?” He’d gladly save Rufe from the stigma though.
Sheer horror filled Rufe’s eyes. “Never! You are my prince. Speaking of, does your intended even realize you’re the emperor’s son and not just some random officer who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?”
Did he? “I… I’m not sure. Unlike my brother, I’m not talked about much, and the goddesses know Father has enough bastards running about. I’ve even served with a few. Perhaps Yarif thinks I’m a bastard Father intends to make use of.”
“In more ways than one. Speaking as a bastard myself”—Rufe splayed a hand over his chest— “I think you’d make a fine addition to our ranks.” He lifted the wineglass in a toast.
Draylon scowled. “Life would have been much easier for me. Regardless of bloodlines, you’ve been my greatest ally. Kingdoms conquer each other. Who’s to say Cormir won’t end like Renvalle someday, with my family shunned and reviled? Of all the people I know, you’re the only one I’d count on to stick beside me.”
Rufe took a not-considered-proper-in-polite-society gulp of wine. “Is that a nice way of calling me stubborn?”
Draylon’s laugh eased some of the tension. “Maybe. While the path laid out for me isn’t of my choosing, I’d hoped you’d travel it with me.”
Rufe shook his head. “No, I can’t continue as we are. It’s not fair to you, me, or your future husband.”
“This has nothing to do with a certain red-haired lieutenant, does it?”
The grin Rufe had been fighting broke free. “We don’t see each other anymore, but I’ve developed quite the taste for redheads. I’m in the market for a few more. If you know of any, please send them my way.”
Rufe would never admit to falling in love. Draylon would rejoice if that happened, though. The guy deserved to be happy. “I’ve demanded of Father that you stay here with me; help me establish a garrison.”
Rufe blinked in surprise. “Me?”
“I can think of no one better. Besides, I’ll need all the friends I can muster.”
“True, being such an unlikeable fellow and all. You have yourself a deal.”
Draylon dropped the lid of one eye in a saucy wink. “There are also plenty of redheads in this part of the empire.”
Rufe smirked. “So I’ve noticed.”
The next part came easier, knowing where Rufe's heart lay. “I have a favor to ask.”
Rufe pursed his lips in a moue of distaste. “No. I told you I’d never again pretend to be you after how horribly things went last time.”
How like Rufe to make jokes when the conversation grew too serious. “I want you at the altar with me when I exchange vows.”
“You want… me?” Rufe pointed to himself. “Isn’t it bad form to have a former lover at your wedding?”
“Were we ever lovers? Seems to me we fought more than we fucked.”
“True, but there’s fun to be had there if done correctly.” Rufe cocked his head to the side, resting a fingertip on his lower lip, the perfect image of being deep in thought. “As for being lovers? No. I think we were each other’s second choice when whatever sailor, barmaid, scullery maid, minor noble—”
“Make your point.”
“We got together when we were too drunk to go out and find somebody else, or whoever we pursued turned us down.”
