Page 29

Tiiran was late to open the library and ready it, but Po had let herself in before him, although all she had done was immediately fall asleep at the copying tables. He woke her with breakfast before hurrying to attend to the work he’d neglected in the past few days.

Except not much waited for him, not as much as there should have been considering the hours Tiiran had spent away from the library. Something he nearly attributed to Nikoly or Po until his tea woke him enough to make him go through the waiting pile of messages again.

There were no information requests. Nor were there any donated copies of old texts or maps.

That wasn’t unheard of. But there should have been at least one or two messages with questions, if not requests for complete copies of books. Perhaps Tiiran been fucked so well that he’d forgotten completing more work yesterday.

In the end, he took the chance to let everyone finish the assignments they had, and to return to finding information to please Nikoly and debating how to properly classify what he did find, and what might make finding it again easier for some assistant in the future.

A small blessing, really, to have that sort of time. Especially with Amie out with the snuffles and Po leaving every so often to go check on her.

But by end of the day, the spot on the front desk for incoming letters remained empty.

“River traffic is slow,” Po offered as explanation, sniffling in turn now. “I don’t know why, but I heard a runner complaining about it when I went to the kitchens for more tea.”

Nikoly, at Tiiran’s elbow to try to get Tiiran out the door to go meet Orin for dinner, had stopped and perked up with interest. “With boats coming to the capital or boats leaving?”

“He didn’t say,” Po answered slowly. “All right, so no letters are coming from the river today. But no messages for us from within the palace too?” She looked away, toward a wall, as if trying to see all the way back to her room and Amie. “Do the nobles know something we don’t?”

No one had an answer, and that had been enough to change the mood. Mattin had quietly left, earlier than Tiiran for once. Tiiran had told the others to go as well if they wanted, and no one had stayed but Nikoly, checking for any wayward scholars in any of the isolated nooks before finally escorting Tiiran out the doors.

They got their answer the next morning.

The day before, a contingent of the Palace Guard had gone into the capital to bring Jola of the Canamorra to the palace. According to gossip, Jola had not been injured or in chains, but since Jola had made it a point to not set foot within the palace walls since she’d come of age, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that she had been taken captive and that it was on Piya’s orders.

The gossip also said Jola was currently pregnant, and that her young child of no more than four had been forced to enter the palace with her.

Since then, Jola and her child had not been seen, and perhaps with the arrest of Jola being so public, servants and palace staff had begun to whisper of others gone missing or possibly taken. It seemed there were nobles and their sworn guards, usually from within the palace but a few from the capital, who had not been seen in some time.

Jola wasn’t known for conspiring against anyone. Even Mattin hadn’t known much about her except her name and her famous refusal to enter the palace willingly.

Nobles were fools for conspiring and scheming, and for sending eyes-and-ears after each other, but if the spying had been meant to help guard them against such arrests, it hadn’t worked. Which suggested Piya might not be moving to arrest those who had acted or plotted against him, but rather those he felt might do so.

Trials or at least public accusations might have been less terrifying. At least then people would know what to expect and who to expect it to happen to. Not receiving any warning brought back memories of rulers of the past and the paranoia that had led to summary executions.

Jola had been more or less a child when her parents had been executed for the old queen’s murder. She was the middle of three, the last generation of the few surviving Canamorra. The youngest had left the capital entirely once he’d come of age. The oldest, the head of what remained of the family, was by far the most known, mostly because he’d turned his back on the nobility to join the Outguard. There were songs about him, popular among commoners if not the nobility. But no one knew of any evidence then or now that any of the younger Canamorra had done anything against the ruler.

And if they had, then Piya should have made a declaration about it.

Perhaps for that reason, the palace had come to a halt. Secrecy left people to imagine, and they could imagine a lot. That might have been Piya’s intention, but Tiiran didn’t personally think the king was that clever, although his advisors might be.

Tiiran spent the morning crating originals of various noble histories and then storing them in the cellar that most outside the library didn’t know about. Nikoly helped him, unusually silent, not even speaking to ask why Tiiran was doing it.

The library’s visitors Tiiran left to Po and Mattin, both of them fluttering around the copying tables instead of returning to their rooms to pack up their belongings as some of the others were doing at Tiiran’s insistence. Po kept sneezing, but she was being stubborn. Tiiran finally ordered her out since rest had made his snuffles a lot less terrible and there wasn’t enough work to justify her being there. Whatever she had to do, Tiiran could do it when he was done.

“Best to be prepared,” Tiiran murmured, pushing away the second cup of tea Nikoly had tried to serve him. He drank the third only because the dust had left his mouth dry, and because it was spring tea and he wanted the energy to help him finish as quickly as possible.

Nikoly didn’t leave to pack. Not even as a precaution, although Tiiran tried to insist. For all that Nikoly said he liked to serve, he served only as and when pleased.

Tiiran had nothing to pack and nowhere to go. But he had stayed through palace upheaval before, as had Mattin, which was why Tiiran said nothing when Nikoly finally pushed him down to sit at the copying tables to make him eat and Mattin came up behind him to toy with Tiiran’s hair. There was nothing to do but wait, and do what work needed to be done, and apparently, braid Tiiran’s hair as if he was a beat-of-four while Tiiran forced himself to eat dried current scones and an orange. Then he was back up, back to work, using the lift to bring books downstairs.

By afternoon, the palace was eerily quiet, and they all understood why river traffic was slow; the beat-of-fours and anyone else who could afford to were fleeing the capital.

Tiiran had ribbons through his hair, now arranged in a single sleek, elaborate braid, and a tangle in him so tight that if it had been in front of him, he would have cut the string rather than attempt to untie it. He got himself spring tea and growled when Nikoly tried to take it from him, and finally marched upstairs because he still had things to do.

When he came down, Orin was there with Nikoly behind him, both of them stern.

The fire was warm and Nikoly’s hand was gentle at the back of Tiiran’s neck. Tiiran was scarcely aware of either sensation, then sometimes wonderfully aware, his eyes closed as his thoughts stayed high in the air above him.

The rug beneath him had a faint dust scent, likely from the abandoned office not being used in so long. But the scent also didn’t bother Tiiran’s senses much, and if it had, he could always inch forward to breathe in the leather of Orin’s boots.

Moving was a distant concept, however. Tiiran’s limbs were heavy yet light, his bare skin shockingly warm, his head cushioned on Nikoly’s lap. When he breathed slowly in and out, a soft rope moved against his skin, like Orin’s arms around him but all over.

Orin and Nikoly murmured back and forth; Tiiran didn’t pay their conversation much attention. Orin had said Tiiran had been paying too much attention and needed to calm for a while. Nikoly had shut and locked the door and closed the curtains while Orin lit a fire in the fireplace. After that, Tiiran had fallen slowly into warmth with every careful loop of rope around his chest or arms.

He was naked, which was somehow not a concern. Nothing was, though Tiiran had at first had some objections to the idea of being bare as a babe and trussed up like a turkey. He could not remember his objections beyond that.

His cock grew hard, then softened, then stiffened again when he moved and rope tingled someplace new, or Nikoly’s fingertips brushed his ear, or the scent of Orin’s boots made him whine until Orin would bend down to pet his pretty braid. The braid had ribbons in it. Tiiran’s hair was as tied up as he was. This was pleasing, though Tiiran wasn’t sure why.

There were other uses for rope in a bedroom, Orin had informed Tiiran while gently but firmly binding him like he was putting string around a posy. He hadn’t meant being constrained as Tiiran was, but instead holding someone down by their wrists or ankles to better torment them. Tiiran suspected Orin thought that such bindings would suit Nikoly, and grew hard again whenever the possibility passed through his mind.

Nikoly had ducked his head, as clear a please as he would give unless Orin forced him to beg. Which Orin would have to be convinced to do, since he thought doing so would upset Tiiran. Tiiran could certainly tie up Nikoly to tease him, but he thought he’d rather see a demonstration from Orin first and Nikoly deserved the treat.

He was getting more lessons instead. Nikoly liked lessons. But he already got Tiiran to do whatever he wanted, so Tiiran didn’t think he needed to learn how to tie Tiiran up in case Orin wasn’t there to do it.

Then the idea of Orin leaving cast a shadow over Tiiran’s mind, and he whined, small and soft, until Orin petted him again.

“Shush. I don’t want to leave you.” Orin spoke as if he knew Tiiran’s thoughts. “Only you could fuss even when tied up well. Next time, we’ll have to bind you completely. Perhaps a blindfold?” He rubbed his thumb between Tiiran’s eyebrows. “That sort of talk gets your pup excited. He’ll need one too, in the future.”

“Truly?” Nikoly exhaled, then twitched beneath Tiiran. “If Tiiran says so.”

“Good boy,” Orin cooed at him, still petting Tiiran. “I wasn’t certain when he first mentioned you, pup. I confess that freely. Not only because of how I felt about it, but because I didn’t want him hurt by some handsome young thing.”

“A sunflower,” Nikoly said with obvious pleasure.

“By a sunflower,” Orin amended. “But I’m glad for you now. If tensions erupt into violence, no matter who is doing the fighting, you’ll handle him if I’m not here? He won’t want to leave. But the palace won’t be fit for anyone not ready to fight. Most will flee.”

The library mousers would be fine if everyone left. But Tiiran thought they must get scared when every person they knew vanished. They had plenty of mice to eat, and access to the palace water fountains, and their little shelter beds for when they were caught outside at night or didn’t want to return to the library for whatever reason, but they must still get frightened to suddenly be alone. If he had to stay, at least they would have him.

“If fighting breaks out and the palace empties, the river will be full with traffic heading out or forces heading in.” Nikoly put a hand to the center of Tiiran’s back between the crisscrossed rope. “But I would try the river first anyway. Over land will be slower. Bee.” He patted Tiiran to rouse him. “Bee, have you ever ridden a horse?”

Tiiran had to think about his mouth and tongue to speak. “Horse?”

“That means no.” Orin sighed a little.

“He’s also not used that much walking,” Nikoly continued. “And you’re right, he won’t want to leave. If there was some place closer that I trusted, I would take him there. More likely, I’ll bring him home with me—but it will be hard travel even if we cut through the lands of the Tialttyrin. Perhaps we could stop there for a time. They’re unlikely to be involved in palace chaos and might welcome him once they get a good look at him. But it will still take time to get even that far and he won’t make it easy.”

“Where?” Tiiran wondered thickly, eyes nearly fluttering open. “Where lands of Ti’ttyrin? Why?”

“My family are closer, but though they will offer shelter, they can’t offer protection should it be necessary. Nor would I ask them to. They’re smiths, not warriors.” Orin shushed Tiiran again, smoothing down his hair. “I’m not saying the palace is headed for more bloodshed, kitten. Not for certain. But Piya has forgotten that one of the purposes of having a ruler is either to listen to or control the nobles, and right now, he’s not doing either. Sooner or later, some of the nobles are going to remind him. If he were the kind to listen to his Outguard, I would tell him that. But he isn’t.”

Orin bent down farther, brushing Tiiran’s downturned lips. “You will demand to know why you should run away to some beat-of-four’s territory, or wonder with frightened fury where I will be? And that much, I can’t tell you, kitten, because I don’t know. But the Tialttyrin are favored by the fae. Dislike the fae as you will, but their valley will offer you some protection. And protected is how we want you. So that’s why you must go.”

Tiiran sank back against his Nikoly-pillow. “Don’t worry me—‘bout me.” Speaking was hard and must have made him frown because his forehead got more pets from Orin. “Don’t ‘xpect you to take me. Be fine here. You should leave if danger.”

Nikoly inhaled deeply, then muttered something to himself before saying louder. “I might have to drug him—only at first. To make him see reason.”

Tiiran always saw reason. Well, not at this moment. But reason was close if he wanted it. Once the ropes were gone. How strange that being tied up should be soothing. He could ignore his thoughts as long as he was still, and good, and Orin’s rope did not grow lax.

“Don’t need to….” He stopped, argument falling to nothing. Then his eyes were open and the fire was warm, the room was dim, and Orin and Nikoly were peering down at him. “You’re taking me with you?”

“You make plans for the library. We make plans for you,” said the bear who had not shared all of his worries with Tiiran. “Most of the other assistants left last time, didn’t they? Many didn’t come back. You stayed.”

Tiiran hadn’t had anywhere to go and hadn’t been about to tell anyone that while they’d been fleeing for their lives.

“Library quiet for a while,” he mumbled at last. “Tha’ss all.”

“You could also ask Mattin,” Orin suggested, with Nikoly already nodding. “They were all so young last time. I don’t think it occurred to Mattin to bring others with him when he went home. But he came back, so he’s got a spine, and his family is another one unlikely to be directly involved.”

If Mattin wasn’t also in danger . The thought returned to Tiiran with brief but sharp intensity. Mattin wasn’t one of his delicate, thin-wire-and-glass hair ornaments just because he wasn’t a fighter. He believed in the library and he could be mouthy too. He was just quieter about it than Tiiran.

Nikoly frowned again. He chewed a fingernail without taking his other hand from Tiiran; his training had not shaken that habit from him. He looked at Orin. “It will be easier if you’re around the capital.”

“I’ve been trying to stay closer. But I have duties, and an obligation to….” Orin drew Tiiran’s attention and held it. “Tiiran, if it comes to it, if Nikoly says it’s time to go, you go with him.”

Tiiran scowled, or wanted to. Then he didn’t want to, floating again with Nikoly and Orin to keep him down.

“Really take me with you?” The moment the question was out, he made a strange sound, as if he’d swallowed air. Tossing his head didn’t make his thoughts any easier to understand, although it did make the rope slide against his skin. “Taking me with you?”

“Tiiran. Oh, bee, honey, your face.” Nikoly cupped Tiiran’s face and gazed anxiously down at him. “I wouldn’t leave you.”

“Tiiran of no known family.” Orin pronounced it the way beat-of-fours said their names. “I’d live in this library for you. You’re going to have to accept that, although it might take a while for you to believe me. Do you have a ‘But, Orin’ now, or will it emerge later?”

Tiiran stared at Nikoly, then blinked and stared at Orin. “But.” It was all he managed.

“Did I not say I wanted to swear to you?” Nikoly swept a loving touch down the side of Tiiran’s neck. “Please consider it. Don’t refuse the possibility out of hand.”

Tiiran had spent a frozen night in that garden thinking himself more alone than he’d ever been, and now he was being told he was going to be spirited away whether he agreed or not. For his safety. To their homes. To their families .

“You’ll take me?” His voice broke.

Nikoly looked up to Orin, then back down to Tiiran. “My honeybee.” His smile seemed strange, worried and sad, though also fond. “Of course.”

“How else are we to keep you alive so that you can learn to truss up your pup like this and use him properly?” Orin’s voice had no rumble, though it should have.

Nikoly nodded fervently. “Yes. I hope to take it well from you, for you.”

Tiiran wondered if he was hard again. It seemed a strange time to be, but Nikoly’s hand slipped down to caress his cock, so he must have been.

Tied up, Nikoly would not be able to do that. He would grow frustrated.

“…Could deny you like that,” Tiiran observed. “You could do nothing.”

Nikoly dipped his head in aroused agreement. “Helpless for you. Please.”

“Like to be tested, don’t you?” It was a question, but Orin wasn’t surprised. His tone was more satisfied. “How delightful it will be when Tiiran is finally cruel to you as you like. How pretty.” Tiiran shifted toward Nikoly’s hand, rope catching him, leather sharp in his nose. “If I am permitted to be there,” Orin added, as though Tiiran wasn’t making all kinds of noises at his feet.

“Both,” Tiiran murmured through his whining. “Both of you.”

“Both of us there?” Orin prompted and slid a hand beneath Nikoly’s chin to make Nikoly look at him. Tiiran caught his breath, waiting, but it was only a moment, and then Orin was looking back down at Tiiran and so was Nikoly and neither of them were touching each other.

“ Both ,” Tiiran insisted again, annoyed at his thoughts now for not being more present. “With me. Have me.” He nodded, though it was more of a wriggle against Nikoly’s lap, followed by a hiss as the ropes seemed to tighten.

“Not at this moment, love.” Orin’s tone was soft. “But if you wish it.”

Tiiran glared at him balefully, or at least tried to. Orin was supposed to understand . Then Nikoly stroked his cock and Tiiran squeezed his eyes shut and was whining again.

“We’ll take care of you,” Nikoly whispered, almost breathless, as bad as Tiiran although no one had a hand on Nikoly’s cock.

Tiiran forced his eyes open to find Orin, to plead.

Orin clucked his tongue, then he was on the rug with Tiiran, his back to the fire, his eyes intent on Tiiran’s face as he slid his fingers into Tiiran’s mouth so Tiiran had something to suck on, which it was suddenly crucial for Tiiran to have. “There, there. We have you.”

He hadn’t understood, but Tiiran couldn’t argue with his mouth full or around his gasps as Nikoly caressed his cock, but they didn’t seem to expect him to, or to do anything but exist to be petted and to service them. Their voices were as warm as the fire, and they were with him and around him and swore they wouldn’t leave him, and Orin’s rope did not give, as if to prove them right. So Tiiran let his eyes fall closed once again and kept them that way as he was petted and used and petted again.