Maric had been keeping a close and probably not terribly subtle eye on Brayan and Dara, and as soon as Brayan stood, Maric was on his feet as well. When they met in the centre of the room, Dara moved to stand next to Maric. His whole demeanour had changed. He was standing more stiffly now, but he also looked less nervous.

Maric tilted his head towards the stairs and the three of them started walking in that direction. “How did he go?”

“Better than expected, actually,” Brayan admitted. “You were right. He’s not rebellious, just untrained.”

They reached the base of the stairs and Maric led the way up them. “And you’ve corrected that now?”

When they reached the landing, Brayan stopped and leant back against the wall. He folded his arms over his chest and tilted his head to the side in consideration. “Mm. Well, the basics, at least.”

“Do you think that will be enough?”

“Enough for the purposes of him not embarrassing you in public?” Brayan gave a small nod. “Mm. I think he’ll manage that much. But… there was something else.”

The tone of Brayan’s voice had shifted when he said that last part, deepened slightly, and Maric raised his eyebrows in question. “Oh?”

“You were keen to hurry him upstairs when we arrived, but when you came back down it was clear things hadn’t gone the way you’d wanted.” As Dara stared down at the ground, his lips pressing together, Brayan stroked a hand over the top of his head. “Perhaps I could join you. Sort out whatever went wrong there.”

Maric’s eyes followed Brayan’s hand as it came to rest on the back of Dara’s neck. “I don’t think so, Brayan. He’s timid.”

“I see that. I can be gentle.”

“You’re already scaring him.”

Brayan frowned and his hand immediately withdrew. “That wasn’t my intention. I didn’t think I’d given him any reason to fear me. I wasn’t harsh with him.”

“I wouldn’t take it personally. He’s just had some bad experiences that have left him easily frightened when it comes to sex.”

“Those guards?”

“No, Brayan. He was at Davidston.”

Brayan let out a heavy exhale and his eyes dropped slightly, going distant. He’d been there too, as a soldier, and though he rarely talked about it, Maric knew it haunted him. “He was there when…?”

“Yes.”

“There were hardly any survivors. Only a few people who managed to hide.” Brayan turned to Dara. “Is that how you survived? Did you hide?”

Dara shook his head. Brayan had done a good job of teaching him not to make eye contact, but just then it seemed like Dara had no desire to. “I heal quickly, sir.”

“I saw what they did to people. They were thorough about killing them.”

“They stabbed me in the stomach once they grew bored of me, sir.” Dara’s hand ghosted over the area in question. “I curled up and stayed very still so that they would think I was dead.”

“A stab wound to the stomach is no joke. You were able to recover from that?”

Dara lifted the bottom of his shirt to reveal his perfect, flat belly, free from any scars. “I had never been badly injured before at the time, so I was unsure if I could. But yes, sir. It healed.”

Brayan stared at the section of skin Dara had revealed until Dara let his shirt fall back down to cover it again, but there was no hint of desire in his eyes now. “I was there too. As a soldier.”

Dara’s eyes leapt up to Brayan’s face for half a second before he remembered himself and pointed them towards his collarbone instead.

“What?” Brayan prompted. “I know I told you to speak less, but right now I would like you to speak your mind.”

“Oh, no, I just—you seem young to have been a fighter there, sir. I was trying to figure out how old you might have been when I was fourteen.”

“I was eighteen at the time of the attack on Davidston,” Brayan said. “Not old enough to be a proper soldier, you’re right, but if I had been, I wouldn’t have been there. We would see any army big enough to threaten the city coming in time to bring our forces home, so most of our men were stationed at the border at the time of the attack. We had to cobble together whoever we could from wherever we could to have a force large enough to drive the Kestror back.”

“I wanted to go, to help defend my kingdom,” Maric said. “My father wouldn’t let me.”

Brayan gave him a firm shake of his head. “I refuse to fault him for that decision. You were sixteen. Hardly more than a child. No one would have benefitted from you experiencing what I did that day.”

“Hm.”

“It wouldn’t have made a damn bit of difference, anyway. From what I saw, they’d already killed everyone they could find before we could have possibly mustered enough fighters together to challenge them. That’s their way. They sweep into a small village with a force large enough to crush it with no chance of resistance, kill everyone, take everything, and leave before anyone can do anything about it.”

Dara was nodding along, but he kept his eyes low and he didn’t say anything.

“I was one of the men sent in ahead to needle them,” Brayan continued. “I had a bow at the edge of the woods and managed to hit a couple, lured a few more into following me and dispatched them under the cover of the trees. Turns out it didn’t save a single life, but I take a small bit of satisfaction from the knowledge that I evened the score just a little.”

“It did save lives, though,” Dara said, voice firm. He’d forgotten to be subservient again, but Brayan didn’t seem to mind this time, his eyes wide and vulnerable as he listened to Dara speak. “They had dragged me outside, but in the house I had been in there was a little girl hiding in a cupboard. They would have found her so easily, but they were searching each house one by one and taking everything of any value from them and they hadn’t reached that one yet. There were two men right outside of the door, and then… and then suddenly they had more urgent things to deal with, and they never did make it back to that house before the main force arrived and they had to leave. And—and I don’t really know anyone else’s story, but I know she would have died if not for that distraction.”

“Oh,” Brayan breathed. He was silent for a long time, his eyes fixed on a point on the wall next to Dara’s head. “I wish we could have saved you too, Dara.”

“I didn’t die.”

“No.” Brayan raked a hand through his hair. “No, you didn’t die. I—I think I’m going to head to bed now, if that’s okay, Maric.”

“Yes, of course, it’s getting late.” Maric kept his lips parted, ready to ask Brayan if he was okay, but that wasn’t what his captain needed just then. “Goodnight, Brayan.”

Brayan gave Maric a firm nod of his head. “Goodnight.”

Maric led Dara back to their room and let out a sigh as soon as the door was shut. “That was a kind thing you did for Brayan. Telling him about the girl.”

Dara’s fingers twisted in the hem of his shirt. His eyes were aimed at Maric’s collarbone. “I wasn’t sure, your highness. He seemed bothered that he hadn’t saved anyone, but hearing about the girl only seemed to shake him more.”

“It was his first real battle and the only one that really haunts him. Though I suppose the battle itself wasn’t what bothered him. It was walking into that village afterwards and realising they’d been too late. Knowing that it wasn’t really all for nothing… I think that will help, but he needs time to process it. I don’t fault him for that.”

“No, I—of course, your highness. I hope I helped him.”

“I don’t fault you for still being haunted by it, either, Dara. Brayan saw the aftermath, but you were there, you—” Maric shook his head. “I don’t know if I would have been able to live with that.”

Dara hugged his arms over his chest. “I didn’t really have a choice. I’m phenomenally difficult to kill, your highness.”

“I’m sorry.” Maric let out a slow breath and forced a smile. “Why don’t we go to bed? Tomorrow will be a new day, and I hope it will be a better one than this one was. For the both of us.”

Dara mimicked Maric in stripping down to his underclothes, and then they climbed into bed together. Maric pulled Dara’s back in against his chest, but he didn’t let his hands wander. Just then, he had no interest in sex.

“Your highness?” Dara whispered into the darkness.

“Mm?”

“Today wasn’t a bad day for me.”

“Well, I suppose with the guards you were used to worse. Still, I would hope we could do much better than that.”

“No, I mean—nevermind.”

Maric considered pushing, but they were both too tired for that. Instead he let out a long breath and then planted a kiss on the back of Dara’s neck. “Goodnight, Dara.”

“Goodnight, your highness.”