"I'm telling you, he's dying," Heekam grunted as he tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. The beast between his legs threw its head back as if in agreement. "See? Even the horse thinks so!"

Brows knitted together, the Crown Prince turned to look at his eunuch. "You could get your tongue cut out for that, you know?"

"Ah…but you would miss my tongue." The eunuch replied and, for added benefit, wiggled his eyebrows. "It’s the best part of me.”

At that, the Crown Prince threw his head back, opened his mouth wide, and let out a deep rumbling laugh. “HA!”

“But in all honesty, why else would you be called back from battle?” Heekam grunted and then turned to look at his master. “It’s not like the King has much affection for you. Everyone in the palace knows of the strain in your relationship. Even the Crown Princess steers clear of him…although frankly…I just think she’s waiting for him to die so you could take the throne…she’s a snake in satin that one is…”

 “Maybe my charming face was deeply missed.” The Crown Prince grinned with mirth as he patted his steed with affection. “You know how much women swoon at this handsome charm of mine.”

Heekam made a retching sound. Not in the least bit worried of offending his royal highness. “In what kingdom is your charm considered handsome?”

“I am handsome!” The Crown Prince laughed. He rubbed the leather reigns between his fingers as he turned to look at his private soldiers. The faces were as familiar to him as the countenance of his own mother. “Aren’t I, Dellos? Kovis? Raygar?”

“Very handsome!” The three warriors echoed in unison. Heads bowed towards their future King.

“See?” The Crown Prince motioned, a smile on his face. “It’s only you, Heekam, who is blind to my brilliance.”

“Uh-huh.” The eunuch nodded and added an eye roll for extra measure. “Or…it could be that I’ve got no balls to worry about, so I can say it like it is.” 

“Hey…” The Crown Prince frowned and turned his head towards Heekam. The rich navy silk band, adorned with the symbol of his nobility, caught the morning light off its metal surface and hit the young eunuch in the face. “Again?”

Before Heekam could retort, Dellos’ steed jerked forwards and cut in front of the Prince’s mount.

With the speed of a falcon, the warrior reached for his bow, Kovis and Raygar darted to the sides. The metal blades glinted in the sunlight, edges sharp and at the ready.  

From the brush, they all witnessed as a man darted like a spooked rabbit onto the road. On his back was the still frame of a long-haired woman, her face shielded from view.

The men stared down from their steeds at the panicked interloper. Once they realized there was no imminent harm to befall their Prince, the soldiers hastened to put away their weapons and disassembled from their defensive position as the man stumbled across the dirt road.

Heekam watched with eagle-like precision at the scene before him. His eyebrows arched in silent scrutiny as the young warrior of a man almost collapsed by their feet. Curious, he leaned his neck forward and frowned when he couldn’t determine the face of the woman on the warrior’s back.

“Please help me!” The warrior cried. His chest rose and fell like a wave as he tried to maintain a grip on his unconscious companion. “Please, I beg you!”

“Who are you?” The Crown Prince asked, his tone rich and deep. Interest piqued, he led his horse forward a few steps.

“My name is Wylen from the Aldor clan!” The man supplied in a quick manner and heaved a deep breath before continuing. “And Jaelan,” he motioned with his head to his unconscious friend, “Of the Ellos clan.”

“The Ellos clan?” Heekam mumbled aloud and then suddenly went still. His eyes doubled in size upon recognizing the name. “You mean…the clan of half-gods?”

Wylen nodded frantically. “He is the only son of the Chief there! Please, help me!”

“Son?” The Crown Prince repeated and then gazed at the slumped form on Wylen's back once again. “That is a man on your back then?”

“Yes!” Wylen puffed, feeling Jaelan stir behind him. “Please, can you spare me a horse? I need to get him back to his people as soon as possible!”

The clear black eyes of the Crown Prince stared directly into Wylen's face.

It was more of a gut feeling rather than an educated assertion that told him there was more to these two men than this warrior was letting on. He had heard of the famous clan of Ellos. The legends of their unearthly beauty and frost white hair, not to mention their skills as warriors. How could it be that the only son of the Chieftain was here, so far from home? And with only this warrior, Wylen of Aldor, as his companion? 

“Very well then.” The Crown Prince announced, eyes not leaving the face of the young man barricading the road. “But we shall not be giving you a horse. My company shall guide you back. It would be safer if we came along. And faster, I believe.”

“My Pri—” Heekam started but was cut off as the Crown Prince spoke again.

“You can call me…Taemor.”

Heekam raised a perfect, plucked eyebrow at that. He found it only a bit odd that the Crown Prince would give this warrior a false name. Especially an alias he hadn’t used for over four years now…

“This is my eunuch, Heekam.” He motioned to his left. “And back here are my personal guard.”

Wylen nodded, grateful to have stumbled on this traveling lot.

“Dellos,” Taemor called out to his soldier, “Give Wylen your horse and sit with Raygar.”

“Yes, sir.”

:::

Heekam sat beside the fire, long black hair resting over his small shoulders while his gaze centered on the two additions to their traveling troupe. The Crown Prince’s private guard made busy with assembling a meal a few paces away. Habitually the eunuch tapped a finger to his lips, eyes trained as he muddled through his restless thoughts. 

It had been two days since Wylen and Jaelan joined their private entourage. And tonight was the first time the sick warrior was conscious enough to hold a conversation. Through their ride on horseback, he had watched the strong yet undeniably young son of Aldor tend to his suffering companion. And even though the half-god did his best to try and hide the obvious pain he was in, the few whimpers and cries he couldn’t swallow bounced into the air and made every man turn their head towards him, wondering if a stop was necessary.

When the horses' hooves would halt, and Wylen would gingerly pull Jaelan from the mount, the half-god would be unconscious again. His skin peppered with droplets of sweat and pale as the midnight moon.

In the depths of his heart, Heekam felt a pang for the troubled youth. He fathomed that before, Jaelan must have been quite something to look at in health, if now sickly, his presence was this entrancing.

He leaned the prominence of his chin onto his palm with a light sigh and continued to gaze onwards. Intrigued with the way their Prince had become so enamored with his new charge. He was buzzing around the two young warriors like a bee, curious and at the same time desperate to help in any way he could. Though honestly, Heekam wasn’t surprised in the least. He, too, would have felt this uncontrollable urge to protect and help as a man if his balls had remained attached, of course.  

Alas, those feelings were foreign to him. That deep emotion…he knew nothing of it.

“I’m fine, Wylen.” Jaelan’s whisper was like a clashing of swords in the silence of their campsite.

The others, trying not to seem as if they were snooping, surreptitiously watched the interaction between Wylen, Jaelan, and their Prince.

“Jae,” Wylen's voice was laced with worry as he held the small bowl of food in his hands, “You haven’t eaten anything almost all day.”

“I haven’t been awake to eat, Wylen.” The other’s answer was curt. He pulled the blankets tighter around his frame, unable to rid himself of the shivers plaguing his bones.

“He’s right,” Taemor decided to lend his hand to the anxious young warrior. His own brow creased with concern. “We’ve been riding without stop…you need to eat something to get your strength back.”

“I do not wish to waste it,” Jaelan mumbled morosely and flinched. His hand darted to his abdomen as he felt his stomach churn. “I doubt I shall be able to hold it down.”

“It will not hurt to try.” Taemor prodded. His deep voice rumbled as he motioned for Wylen to spoon some of the rabbit stew Raygar made. “At least try.”

“C’mon, Jae…” Wylen pleaded, distressed at seeing his lover so unlike himself. “For me, please? Eat a little for me.”

The stubborn man shook his head and gently pushed the spoon Wylen held out for him away. It clattered back into the bowl, and Wylen cursed under his breath. His emotions were warring within him at seeing Jaelan so unnecessarily stubborn. His gaze turned to the Crown Prince. Almond eyes blinked a few times before returning their watchful gaze to Jaelan. Dejected, Wylen rubbed his brow. Unable to react with any emotion when Taemor squeezed his shoulder in support.

After ten more minutes of this nonsense, Heekam deemed this had gone on long enough. Deciding his Prince and Wylen would be at this all night if he didn’t interfere, the eunuch rose to his feet and marched right over. He grabbed the bowl of stew right out of Wylen's hands and pushed him to the side with his hip.

“Let me take care of this.” He motioned to the overly obstinate warrior, swathed in a blanket twice his size. “You and the Cr—Taemor take a rest. I’ll get him to eat.”

“He won’t listen to you,” Wylen insisted and tried to take the bowl back. “If with any luck, I’d be the only one with a chance to get him to eat.”

“Nonsense,” Heekam interjected with a jerk of his head. “I’ve had my share of spoiled first-borns and their iron wills to last me a lifetime. Trust me, I can handle a half-god.”

Jaelan, sensing the sheer determination in the eunuch’s voice, grew fearful. His large doe eyes darted to Wylen, almost begging him to stay and not leave him alone with this strong-willed half-man.

It wasn’t that he was vying for attention.

Far from it even!

He was honestly telling them what he felt. Nausea bubbling up his throat would push out any nourishment he tried to intake. And in addition to that, they were already imposing too much on this traveling troupe.

The young warrior was not blind. He could tell this group of men wasn’t divulging their true identity to them. If a eunuch along for the ride wasn’t the first clue, the quality of the rich silks adorning Taemor’s body was a clear second. There was no doubt in Jaelan’s mind that this man, who had been trying to get him to eat with as much concern as Wylen, was an important person. He probably had pressing matters to attend to, and this added stop on the road to take him home was perhaps a greater nuisance.

Jaelan loathed being an annoyance. He inwardly cringed, hating how his body decided to fall ill with a sickness he couldn’t battle, even with his divine blood.

“Please eat, Jaelan,” Wylen muttered with a surrendering sigh before allowing Taemor to pull on his arm and lead him away.

Crestfallen, Jaelan squeezed his eyes shut and winced. His hand darted to his mouth as nausea assailed his senses once again.