Brayan wasn’t surprised when Maric took his time coming down for dinner. He had been quiet and distracted all day, and the moment they had stopped for the night he had led his slave up to his room without a word to anyone else. When he finally did make his way back downstairs, it was with his slave trailing close behind him.

Raedon vacated the seat next to Brayan without having to be asked, and Maric claimed it. The slave stood awkwardly behind him for a moment until Maric reached a hand back and guided him down onto the floor. He sat rather than kneeled, but Maric didn’t correct him.

Brayan had expected the time alone with the slave to have released some of Maric’s tension, but if anything the opposite was the case. Maric started piling his plate with the roast beef and vegetables the barmaid brought over without bothering to address his men.

Maric had always kept things casual and friendly with the men he led, but Brayan didn’t miss the way Raedon’s eyes darted to meet his older brother’s across the table when Maric held out a piece of beef and the slave took it with his hand. 

Only Garrod, the oldest member of the prince's guard at nearly twice Brayan’s age, seemed unconcerned by the exchange. When he met Brayan’s gaze and gave him a smile, amusement lighting his eyes, Brayan frowned and shook his head. This wasn’t a game. Maric had a reputation to maintain.

Beside him, Maric made a sound of disapproval and Brayan thought he had noticed the exchange, but he was frowning down at his cup. “This wine is awful.”

Brayan stood from the table. “We have some of our own in the wagon. I’ll go and get it.”

Maric gave him a measuring look, but he nodded his approval.

Normally Brayan would have sent Raedon on a menial task such as this and they all knew it, but Brayan wanted a moment alone and even Maric usually didn’t question his decisions. Brayan liked that about him. He was only a couple of years older than Maric, but as soon as Maric had seen that Brayan intended to respect him, he had given Brayan his respect in return. It worked for them.

But this… this was a different matter. Brayan could see the problem brewing, but he was no expert in slaves or diplomacy. All he had to offer was his own opinion, and that felt like overstepping.

Brayan found the wagon in the stables and began looking through the crates stacked in the back for the wine they’d brought with them.

He heard a creak and glanced over his shoulder, and then turned when he saw Maric standing in the doorway to the stables. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

“I’m not alone. Am I?”

Brayan pressed his lips together. “You know what I mean. It’s not safe.”

“Raedon is waiting for me at the inn door. He can see the stables from where he is. If there’s any trouble, he can call the others in an instant, so you can stop using my safety as an excuse to try to get rid of me.”

Brayan opened his mouth to defend himself, then shut it again and looked away. “Sorry, sir. What do you need?”

“You need to talk to me. I can tell when there’s something on your mind.”

“And you can guess what it is, I imagine. I didn’t think you’d want to hear it.”

Maric sighed and went to stroke Farah’s head over the door of her stall. “I know the situation with Dara is a mess. I don’t need to be told that. If you have any advice, though… I wouldn’t be opposed.”

Brayan’s advice would have been to get rid of the slave as soon as possible, but he knew that wasn’t what Maric wanted to hear. “What do you want to achieve?”

Maric let out a quiet breath of laughter. “You know, I’m not even sure myself anymore.”

“Well, the issue as I see it is that you’re on a diplomatic tour. You’re giving some very powerful and influential people their first taste of who you are and who you will be as a leader, and if they think you can’t even keep a single slave in line, you’ll lose their respect. That slave cannot be seen at your side acting inappropriately.”

Maric was silent for a long moment. He didn’t speak until Farah turned her head away from him, tired of his affection. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

“How do you want to achieve that?”

Maric turned around and leant back against the stall door. “He’s not intentionally badly behaved, he’s just untrained. But, I have to admit, I have no idea how to train a slave.”

“And you’re set on keeping him?”

“I mean — I don’t know, Brayan. I realise the frontlines are no place for him, so long term... “ Maric shook his head. “But right now, getting rid of him? I know it’s not sensible, but giving up doesn’t sit right with me.”

“That’s nothing new, is it?” Brayan gave him a smile. “Why don’t I take him off your hands while you finish your dinner? I’ll take him over to a quiet corner and go over some basic etiquette with him. If he really is just untrained, it shouldn’t be too hard to get him brushed up on the basics.”

“I—Mm. Maybe that would be for the best.”

“You’re hesitant.”

“He’s…” Maric rubbed a hand over his face. “Oh goodness, I don’t even know.”

“You’re not catching feelings, are you?”

Maric wouldn’t look at him.

“Maric, you know that can’t end well. He’s a slave. Not even a good slave.”

“I’m not saying I’m in love with him, Brayan. It’s been less than a week. That would be ridiculous no matter who he was. But — I mean — it wouldn’t be strange or wrong to experience feelings in his direction, would it? That’s just a part of being human.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“I feel guilty that he was treated so horrendously all those years when he was technically mine. I know it wasn’t my fault, but even so. And now… now I have this wounded young man with me, and I want to make things right. Or at least avoid being yet another person who hurts him.” He shook his head and let out a long sigh. “And I know, I know, there are other things I should be focusing on, but this feels important.”

“I won’t lie to you. I thought this was a terrible idea, and in a way I still do. But you are my prince, and one day my king, and I respect you. If this is important to you, that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Brayan.”

“Send him over to sit with me. I’ll treat him gently. If he’s going to stay by your side, he’s going to need to learn to act appropriately. I’m sure he’ll be much less stressed once he has boundaries he understands.”

Maric nodded. “I’ve been reluctant to correct him, but you’re right, of course. I’m sure he’ll be much happier once he knows what’s expected of him.”

“Just let me…” Brayan turned around to continue his search for the wine, and his eyes immediately landed on the crate containing it, tucked right at the back of the wagon. “Ah, here we go!” He crawled into the wagon and reached back to retrieve a few bottles.

When they returned to the tavern the slave was still sitting on the floor, his head down and his fingers tangling in the hem of his shirt. He looked up when he heard their approach and some of the anxiety softened out of his expression when his eyes landed on Maric.

Brayan put two of the bottles of wine down on the table and kept one for himself. He was going to need it. “Slave. Come with me.”

The slave tensed, but he didn’t move, his eyes darting back to Maric’s in question.

“Go with Brayan, Dara,” Maric said as he reclaimed his seat at the table. “He’s in charge of you until I come to get you.”

The slave looked like he might argue, or maybe just cry, but after a moment he stood and followed Brayan, head down and arms hugging his chest, over to a table on the other side of the room.

Brayan uncorked his bottle of wine and took a couple of deep swallows straight from the bottle. He was beginning to understand how Maric had been so disarmed by the slave. Even Brayan was having to fight the urge to reassure him.

The slave was still standing and hugging himself when Brayan turned back to him. Brayan stared him down and, after a few seconds, the slave sat.

Brayan took another swig of his wine. “You’re supposed to kneel.”

“Oh!” the slave said and quickly moved into a kneeling position.

Brayan sighed, stood, and bent down to adjust the slave’s posture. He was tense but compliant, and when Brayan moved away again, he stayed how he’d been positioned.

“You should practise kneeling like that in your free time,” Brayan told him. “Kneeling on a hard floor will start to hurt quite quickly if you’re not used to it.”

“Oh, it won’t hurt me. I heal very quickly, so things that build up to pain — Well, they just don’t.”

“Maric did say something about that,” Brayan murmured. He looked away, sighed, squeezed his eyes shut for a second, and took another swallow of wine. He stared down at the slave. “You’re a terrible slave.”

The slave swallowed thickly, his eyes meeting Brayan’s. “I know.”

“I know, sir,” Brayan corrected. “And you should be calling Maric your highness when you address him. Maric allows his men to address him casually, but that’s not a privilege that extends to you. You’re a slave. You need to remember that.”

“Yes, sir,” the slave breathed out. His voice sounded slightly unsteady.

“And you talk too much,” Brayan continued. “When you volunteer information about yourself to someone who didn’t ask for it, it makes it seem as though you feel you’re of equal standing to them. If you’re given an order, you may verbally respond to signal your compliance. If you’re asked a question, you may concisely answer that question. The rest of the time, you don’t need to be talking.”

“Yes, sir,” the slave said, his eyes firmly on Brayan’s.

Brayan placed a hand on the top of the slave’s head and tilted it downwards. “Your eyes should be pointed at the collarbone of the person addressing you. Subservient, but attention clearly on them.”

“Yes, sir,” the slave said, and though his posture was stiff, he stayed in the exact position Brayan had put him in.

“Good,” Brayan said, flat and tired. 

Brayan understood what this slave had been doing to Maric now. He was a toxic mix of alluring and emotionally draining and it was impossible to even truly dislike him for it. Brayan’s hand was still resting on the top of the slave’s head, so he pet his dark hair as he took a slow swallow of wine.

Raedon approached with Brayan’s plate, piled high with food, and placed it on the table in front of Brayan. He handed him his mug directly. “Maric asked me to tell you to stop drinking straight from the bottle. You look like a drunkard.”

Brayan smiled and took the mug with his free hand. “Was that all?”

“He won’t stop looking over at the two of you. Something about this slave has really caught his attention.”

“Here I am trying to teach this slave humility, and you come along and say that right in front of him?” Brayan shook his head in dismay, but the wine had loosened him up enough that he didn’t truly care. “He has a certain possessiveness towards him. Perhaps if I can break through that, he’ll be able to focus on other things again.”

“Well, you’re the man for that job. I’d better head back over.”

“Mm,” Brayan said as he filled his mug, not bothering to look up as Raedon walked away. Brayan finally removed his hand from the slave’s head so that he could slice off a slither of roast beef. “Next lesson.” He turned fully in his chair to face the slave and held out the morsel. As soon as he saw the slave’s hand start to reach up, he slapped it back down. “No. With your mouth.”

The slave’s eyes leapt up to meet Brayan’s for half a second before he remembered himself, and then he slowly leant forward and delicately took the piece of meat with his teeth, a hint of lip brushing against Brayan’s fingertips. It hadn’t been quite what Brayan would have considered perfect form, but it had sent a jolt all the way to his cock, so he wasn’t about to criticise it.

“When you’re out in public, you’re an ornament,” Brayan told the slave. “This,” he held out another slither of meat, “is about putting on a performance, not eating. If you’re hungry, you can eat before or after. Every moment you’re in the public eye, your job is to be perfect and perfectly subservient. You must never give the impression that the prince cannot control you.”

The slave stared at Brayan’s collarbone with focused intent. “Yes, sir.”

Brayan gave the slave a pat on the head. “Good. Now, I’m going to finish eating and you’re going to stay where you are and be silent.”

The slave settled in, palms resting flat on his thighs, and then for the next twenty minutes while Brayan ate, there was complete silence between them.