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R ufe’s afternoon grew very busy. The guards from the riding session gathered in Niam’s office, along with Eoghan, Willem, Niam, and Rufe. The moment he had solid evidence against Eoghan, Rufe would throw him in a cell.

“They spoke Craician,” he said for the tenth time.

“But what did they say?” Eoghan demanded, pacing the length of the floor while those who were standing tried to predict his movement and clear the way. Niam sat behind his desk, allowing him to remain still.

“I told you, I didn’t understand the words, but it was Craician.” Rufe would bet a month’s wages on the language. He heard snippets in his nightmares from his abductors.

Eoghan scoffed, as he’d done every minute they’d been in this office. “How can we believe you if you don’t know the language?”

Rufe dug his nails into his palms to keep from screaming. “Because I’ve heard Craician before. I recognized the word ‘Craice’ at least three times and ‘rex’ twice.”

“What significance does rex have?” Eoghan persisted.

“It’s Craician for king.” Rufe would love for Niam to come to his defense, but he couldn’t without giving too much away .

But Niam spoke up. “Did you recognize any words beyond rex? No matter how strange you think they sound, I might get a better idea of the riders’ conversation.”

“They said your name a time or two.”

Niam arched a brow. “Anything else?”

Rufe winced. He didn’t want to say the word, but Niam needed to know. “Yes. Whreyn said ‘mortus.’”

Dead.

Vihaan waited in the hallway when Rufe managed to extricate himself from the office. Tall and hulking, Vihaan leaned against the wall, eyes closed. Was he… sleeping? While standing?

“Are you waiting for me?”

Vihaan didn’t open his eyes. “Me and a few of my men think we should take word of what’s happening to King Draylon.”

Missives could be intercepted. Vihaan likely could not. “Good idea. What do you need from me? Money? Supplies?”

“I’ve got both.” Vihaan slowly opened one eye. “I’ve grown quite fond of the princes—and their father. Keep them safe?”

“Of course.”

Vihaan’s lips turned upward into a smile. “Good man. I expect to see you in Renvalle soon. How about I buy you a drink? I hear there’s a tavern where old soldiers like us gather. ”

“I look forward to it.” The man’s personal life wasn’t Rufe’s concern, but he had to ask. Must be Nera’s influence. “What of Casseign?”

Both of Vihaan’s eyes opened now, a bit of stiffness creeping into his posture. “Captain Casseign? What of him?”

“You’re going to make me ask directly, aren’t you?” While rapidly becoming a friend, Vihaan occasionally deserved a good shake.

“Where’s the fun in volunteering information?” Vihaan smirked.

Sounded like a challenge to Rufe. “Your relationship won’t become an issue, will it, or conflict with your duties?” In this case, any number of situations could become a problem. And while he’d never begrudge the two men their pleasure, as a representative of the emperor, he needed to ask.

Vihaan rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “You know as well as I do, soldiers can’t afford to form bonds. They never last, and if you’re on opposite sides of a battle, well….”

“When do you leave?”

“At first light.”

“May the God of War go with you.”

“And may the Unnamed Goddess protect you.” Vihaan saluted with an arm across his chest. Rufe repeated the gesture and watched Vihaan stride purposefully down the hall.

Rufe would miss the man.

But how did he know of Rufe’s affinity for the Unnamed Goddess?

The hidden panel in Rufe’s rooms eased open around midnight. He put down his book, grabbed his sword, and positioned himself in the shadows where he’d see any assailants before they saw him. Just because assassins hadn’t yet visited him didn’t mean they wouldn’t.

The waning hearth fire and the lantern on Rufe’s bedside table illuminated copper hair and pale skin.

Rufe sheathed the sword and placed the scabbard back on a chair.

“Niam.” His sweet Niam. Here, now. All afternoon, he’d fretted over Whreyn’s words.

Rufe would die himself before he let anyone harm his king.

Or Whreyn would die. Rufe preferred it was Whreyn.

“Rufe!” Niam threw himself into Rufe’s arms. “When I heard you’d gone alone against who knew how many…” He trembled. Rufe held him closer.

“I’ve done similar things many times. I knew how to keep them from seeing me and what to do if they did. I wouldn’t have approached over four men.” He tried to lighten the mood with a grin. “Four’s my limit on most days.”

“You could have been killed! I could’ve lost you!”

Something in Rufe’s heart clenched—something best put away until later. “But you didn’t lose me, and you won’t.” Nor would Rufe lose Niam, at least not to death.

“You can’t know for sure. Promise me you won’t take such chances in the future. ”

Rufe gazed into Niam’s eyes and found… pain. “I can’t promise. If it keeps you or your sons safe, I’ll do whatever I must.”

They held each other for several minutes until Niam stopped shaking and stepped back. “Thank you for going with the boys today. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to them—to any of you.”

“They’re good boys.”

Niam nodded, his tousled hair falling around his face, a face whose features softened at the mention of the princes.

Many fathers of Rufe’s acquaintance only acknowledged their sons when boasting or complaining.

From all Rufe knew of Niam, the man must be a great father, involved in his children’s lives as much as royal duties allowed.

“Did you get to speak with Quillan and Uri?” Niam asked. “I’m sorry I couldn’t arrange much time with them for us.”

“I did, and thoroughly enjoyed their company, but will have to be careful, though. Why would a foreign diplomat need to interact with Delletinian princes?” Many Cormiran nobles thought Rufe unfit company for their children, starting with the former emperor who’d railed against Rufe’s friendship with Draylon.

“I should send the boys away for their own protection, but they’d be too easily found at their mother’s estate. Countess Exa sent a message offering her home as a sanctuary. I met her when buying Princess. How well do you know her? Can I trust her?”

“She’s a dear friend of Yarif’s and an honorable woman. He’s likely the one who urged her to write, as taking interest in the Delletinian princes himself might be misconstrued as a political move. Draylon Aravaid trusts her.”

Niam’s eyes took on a haunted quality, barely visible by lantern light. “If cousin Yarif trusts her, I think it would be in my best interests to do the same. Mother will go with them, of course, as well as some of my most trusted men.”

“Of course.”

Rufe didn’t realize until then how much he feared for the boys or Nera.

Having them across the border would be the safest thing.

Possibly not for Niam politically, as they’d likely visit Yarif at the castle at some point, and rumors about them being kidnapped or used for leverage on Niam’s decisions might spread.

Rufe would love to send them to his parents, for Mother would look after the two young princes as her own, but Ronwith would never let such a secret remain so, not when parlaying the information for his own benefit might prove useful.

And Mother might become attached and refuse to give the boys back. She’d always loved children and admonished Rufe and his brother often about making her a grandmother.

“I’m so very sorry it’s come to this. I’ll escort them if you’d like.

While I’d hate to be away from you, politics was never my passion—protecting is.

I can go with them.” Rufe felt as useless as teats on a boar sitting around the castle all day with little to do, with even less time to spend with his lover, and getting nowhere with the hardheaded nobles.

Ultimately, the treaty would be Niam’s decision, but Rufe respected his insistence on obtaining backing .

Niam pressed his forehead to Rufe’s. “I don’t want you to go, but I know you’re unhappy here. I long for a place where we could be together like we wish.” He kissed Rufe then, likely to silence any reply, a gentle pressing together of lips. A benediction.

He broke the kiss. “The boys are safe for now. I’ve tucked them into their beds, and they’re under guard. Just for tonight, will you make me forget all the turmoil in my life, the treacherous nobles, even that I’m a king and therefore don’t have free choice in my life?”

Rufe’s heart broke for the agony in the request, the sorrow on Niam’s face. “I’ll do whatever you need of me for as long as you’ll have me.” He joined their mouths, sealing the promise with a kiss.

Niam tried to stand. Rufe squeezed with his thighs, holding Niam in place. “I like you like this. Why don’t you stay forever?” If only they could.

“It’s not by my will that I leave you.” Niam kissed the tip of Rufe’s nose and collapsed onto the mattress, tucking Rufe into his side.

Rufe gave his sensitive cock a few more strokes and breathed out slowly, unable to keep the smile from his face, despite the tense mood. “That was so damned good,” he said, rolling to his side to register Niam’s expression.

The normally reserved king wasn’t reserved now, admiration and perhaps more shining in his eyes.

He said nothing, merely kissed Rufe’s shoulder, and settled his head there.

Rufe admired Niam, lying so peacefully, so contented-looking—a look Rufe wished to see on him more often. Gods, what a beautiful man.

Realizing the depth of his love for Niam didn’t come as a massive shock, for Rufe had suspected for some time that he might lose his heart for good.

This moment removed all doubts. Compared to Niam, all future lovers would always fall short, even with their doomed relationship.

“I love you” would forever remain in Rufe’s heart.

Maids had left water in a basin, along with a cleaning cloth, though the water must be cold by now. Rufe rose and wet the cloth anyway, warming it before the fire for a few moments to remove some of the chill before wiping them both off.

The coldness of the floor on his bare feet kept Rufe alert. Niam had lapsed into soft snores by the time Rufe returned to bed. He brushed copper curls away from Niam’s face, watching him in the low light.

Yes, he’d keep his love in his heart, for now, and forever, and do whatever he could to see Niam happy.

Even if the self-sacrifice left Rufe a broken man.