Prince Maric couldn’t stop thinking about bright blue eyes contrasted against pale skin and dark hair, and it was well past being annoying. He was beginning to wish he had just asked Dara to lend him his hand for a few minutes. That probably wouldn’t have caused the slave too much distress and maybe then he wouldn’t be fixating like this.

Or maybe he still would have been. It hadn’t been sex that was on his mind as he had been trying to get to sleep last night. He had been thinking about Dara, and those guards, and what they did to him. Maric hadn’t pressed for details at the time, hadn’t thought it really mattered, but now it bothered him that he didn’t know. 

He had initially assumed that they just beat him, but as he had laid in bed thinking about it, he had remembered Dara mentioning, almost off hand, that serious injuries could take hours to right themselves. As though that was something he had regular experience with. After that, his imagination had been happy to supply him with an extensive list of things they might have done to the poor slave.

Now, after just a few hours of restless sleep, he was trying to listen as his father, King Rowan, went over the details of Maric’s upcoming diplomatic trip and he still couldn’t get Dara out of his head.

Brayan nodded seriously as Maric’s father tapped a marker on the map in the middle of the table. Maric had brought the Captain of his guard with him to this briefing because he had wanted a buffer between himself and his father, and now he was doubly glad he was there because Maric was not listening. He struggled enough to maintain interest in this diplomatic nonsense when he wasn’t distracted.

It wasn't only Dara’s troubling circumstances that were making it so difficult for Maric to clear him from his mind. Maric was empathetic enough to care about the pain of others, even if they were only slaves, but never so much that it distracted him. There was something about Dara himself that simultaneously intrigued and unsettled him. The way Dara had met his gaze, even and unwavering, only dropping it when he had become flustered.

Maric had almost wanted to scold him several times last night, except he’d never been sure what for. Slaves were expected to behave in a certain way, especially around a prince, but by the time they ended up in Maric’s presence, they were already fully trained. He had never needed to know the details of what was expected of them, because they knew.

Yet Dara acted more like someone doing their very best to improvise proper behaviour. Maric didn’t understand it. Even if he had spent the last several years largely ignored, up until he was fourteen he had been thought a fine enough slave to be prepared as a special gift for Maric. Had the trauma shaken him so much that he had forgotten everything he’d known?

“Mm, that is troubling,” Brayan said. “Isn’t it, Maric?”

Maric stared at him. He had no idea what his father had been talking about.

“Yes,” Maric said after far too long a pause, fooling nobody.

His father sighed. “Some of the bigger cities. They’ve been becoming less compliant in recent years.”

“Ah,” Maric said.

Maric’s father kneaded at his temple. “You’re a man now, Maric, but still young. This trip is important. Having personal charge over part of the kingdom will be good experience for when it’s your turn to rule, but this isn’t a game. It’s not easy to change someone’s opinion once they’ve made their mind up about you.”

“I’m aware.”

Maric’s father shook his head. “Awareness isn’t enough. You need to be able to make the tough choices. If they think you’re weak—”

“Fine.” Maric stood up. “I had a disagreement with some of your guards last night and I feel like they may not have really taken my words to heart. I think you’ll see that I’m willing to do whatever is required to make sure I’m respected.”

The sound of Brayan’s heavy sigh followed Maric out of the room.

#

By the time morning came, Dara was feeling more doubt than hope. Maybe taking Dara with him had seemed like a good idea when Dara had been naked and the prince’s cock unsatisfied, but would the prince feel the same way after he found someone more qualified to warm his bed for the night?

The tailor and her assistant dropping by to measure Dara for new uniforms that evening helped to ease his worries. If he had stuck in the prince’s mind long enough for him to arrange that much, maybe there was hope.

Dara didn’t think too deeply into what would happen if the prince did take him with him. He didn’t know and he couldn’t let it matter. There was a part of him that turned its nose up at the idea of being a bed slave, even to a prince, but if he never again had to deal with somebody cutting his tendons and then laughing at his inability to use his hands, it would be worth it. Though it was far from the most painful thing they did to him, it was a strong contender for the most annoying. Tendons pulled apart when they were cut, which made it extremely difficult to get them to heal.

Still, there was a rock of anxiety that sat deep in Dara’s stomach that he couldn’t shake no matter how many times he told himself things couldn’t possibly get worse.

#

On the day the prince was to leave, Dara caught a glimpse of blue at the doors to the barracks and was immediately on his feet. The man who stepped inside was dressed in the uniform of the prince’s guard and was freckle faced and mousy haired. He looked young — maybe even still a teenager.

He pointed at Dara as soon as he spotted him. “Dara?”

Dara nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Prince is waiting for you.”

“Okay, just, ah—let me get my things.”

Dara dashed off through a door, into the sleeping quarters he shared with the other slaves, and collected the pile of clothing he’d laid out on his bed. They were the only things he owned. A single spare uniform, some underclothes, and an old jacket that was a bit too big for him.

Dara jumped when he turned around and realised the man had followed him into the room.

The man took the bundle of clothes from Dara, turned them over in his hands so that he could look at them, then shook his head and placed them back down on Dara’s bed. “Don’t bother with these. Maric’ll have new clothes made for you.”

Dara hesitated as the man turned to leave, his eyes fixed on his clothes. They were all he had. “Could I at least keep the jacket, maybe?”

The man shrugged. “There’s no point in taking any of it with you, but I’m not going to stop you.”

Dara picked up his jacket and hugged it against his chest. “Okay. I’m ready.”

The man led Dara out of the barracks, across the grounds, and inside the castle. He knocked on the door to the prince’s rooms, waited for the prince to tell them to enter, and then opened the door and stepped back so that Dara could enter.

A smile lit up the prince’s face. “Thank you, Raedon. That will be all.”

The man — Raedon — nodded, took a step back, and shut the door as he left Dara alone with the prince.

The prince nodded at the jacket Dara was still clutching at his chest. “What’s that?”

Dara looked down at the jacket. He’d almost forgotten he had it with him. “Oh, ah—just my jacket, your highness.”

“It’s not in my colours.”

He was right. It was a faded brown. “I used to have one in blue, your highness, but I outgrew it and nobody ever bothered to make me a new one.”

“We’ll get you another one made. You won’t need that old thing.”

Dara didn’t let go of the jacket. “Would it be okay if I held onto this one anyway?”

“It’s not cold right now. You’ll have a new one before it is. You’ll have no need for it.”

“I know, it’s just the only thing I have, and…” Dara trailed off as the prince’s eyebrows slowly lifted and he realised he was wearing on his patience. A bed slave would not argue like this. Not with any free man and most certainly not with a prince. This was the sort of thing only a healer got away with, and Dara wasn’t a healer anymore. He tossed the jacket onto the chair in front of the fireplace. “Okay.”

The prince smiled, but it looked forced. “Good. Now, speaking of clothes, I’ve had some new uniforms made for you. Let’s get you changed before we leave.”

Dara’s heart sped as the prince stepped in close to him and began undoing the buttons on his shirt. He had expected the prince’s irritation with him to be reflected in his touch, but all seemed to be forgotten as Dara’s shirt dropped to the floor and the prince ran an appreciative hand down Dara’s chest.

“You have a beautiful body,” the prince murmured as he started undoing the buttons on Dara’s pants. As soon as they were open his hand slipped inside and grasped Dara, already hard, through his underclothes.

Dara drew in a breath and leaned his forehead against the prince’s collarbone. The prince’s touch was expert, confident, and he found himself grasping at the prince’s shirt as he shoved Dara’s pants down his thighs.

“Take your shoes off,” the prince instructed, and it took Dara’s lust muddled mind a second to catch up. 

Dara sat down on the arm of the nearest sofa and complied.

The prince looked down at the tenting in his own pants and let out a long sigh. “I wish we had more time for this, but I have a surprise for you and it won’t wait forever.” He nodded at a pile of clothing that sat on the low table in the middle of the room. “Get dressed.”

Dara obeyed. The new clothes weren’t unlike his old ones, but Dara had forgotten how crisp the fabric used to be, how bright the blue was before it had faded.

As soon as Dara was fully dressed, the prince’s hands were on him again, feeling out the fit of his uniform. “Much better. You look good in my blue. Your eyes are the same colour.”

Dara found himself smiling. He didn’t quite understand what was going on between them, but when the prince spoke like that, it made his heart flutter.

The prince pulled back. “Okay, we really must go now.”

Dara nodded and started to follow, but the prince stopped when he was almost to the door, took a couple of steps back, and then headed towards the fireplace.

He picked the jacket up off the armchair and held it out to Dara. “Don’t forget your jacket.”

Dara hesitated, thinking maybe it was some sort of test, but all tension had left the prince’s body and he was no longer looking at Dara with those appraising eyes.

Dara took the jacket from him and clutched it back against his chest. “Thank you, your highness.”

The prince smiled. “Let’s go.”