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N iam, Rufe, Avestan, Yarif, Draylon, and two secretaries squeezed into Draylon’s office. Draylon and Yarif stood by the desk, with Avestan behind the sprawling wooden monstrosity. Rufe and Niam sat across from Avestan in two chairs. Willem and Avestan’s secretary stood nearby.

Niam sat with his leg pressed to Rufe’s, wishing for his mother. She’d been a de facto co-ruler during his father’s reign, but now he made the most important decisions about his country’s future alone.

No, not alone. With his consort by his side and input from people he trusted.

Granted, they were men more used to war than treaties, but Rufe trusted Avestan and his advisors.

A few of Niam’s advisors had offered valuable suggestions, though most only looked out for themselves.

Some of his advisors had proved duplicitous.

Sad that he trusted these foreigners more.

Niam read over the contract again. “This is very generous.” Far more generous than Rufe discussed with the nobles in Dellamar.

Avestan replied, “I’m adjusting the other kingdoms’ agreements if I find Father short-changed any. You're welcome to renegotiate if you find some detail later not to your liking. ”

While Cormira would receive gold from Delletina, the empire wouldn’t claim land, making the nobles’ arguments about losing their homes moot.

The lowlands yielded the foodstuffs Delletina desperately needed, and the abandoned villages, while not safe for habitation, could become a grazing ground for Herixian goats, which yielded wool, milk, and meat and could likely find sure footing on a dagger’s edge, opening grazing grounds most shepherds feared.

Avestan would provide troops until Niam stabilized the kingdom, and the nobles recognized Niam as the rightful king.

Privately, Yarif had offered insight into alternate crops for a cooler climate and methods to determine where to build villages with minimal possibility of destruction by the elements.

Nothing in the treaty would harm the people of Delletina; it merely used their otherwise useless gold stores and demanded a little labor to keep trade routes open.

Niam signed the documents, as did Rufe. How strange to see Rufe’s name written as King Consort Rufe Fjell.

Niam’s king consort. They’d have to determine later how this new development affected Rufe’s future dukedom.

Draylon also included duke in his many titles; by all accounts, his duchy ran efficiently without its absentee leader.

So many matters to consider. All would have to wait until Niam returned home—with his sons.

His sons. He’d wasted time here, but understood the treaty as necessary to secure his kingdom. To gain official help in saving his boys. Now, Whreyn not only acted against Niam but also the empire.

Avestan signed last, handed one copy of the documents to his secretary, and gave the other to Willem. He smiled. “Now that we’ve concluded business, I understand a banquet awaits downstairs.” He waggled his brows. “And then someone needs to see to their bonding night.”

No time to contemplate the bonding night now. If given half a chance, Niam might take Rufe’s hand, dart up the stairs, and ignore anyone waiting to wish them well.

They left the office as a group, gathering before the great hall. Avestan, Draylon, and Yarif entered first to applause. Rufe gave Niam a tremulous smile, took his hand, and made their first public appearance as king and consort.

All eyes watched Niam and Rufe mount the dais at the front of the room, settling at a table with the emperor, their king, and his consort.

Niam couldn’t enjoy the banquet, the musicians playing too loudly, all the food scents blending into something unappetizing. He needed to be heading north, ready to take on Whreyn, free his boys, and ensure the safety of his mother instead of enjoying a party.

Rufe took his hand. “I long to be on the road as much as you, but sometimes court affairs are necessary for diplomacy. Trust me. Preparations are already in motion. Now, would you care to dance?”

“Not really.”

Rufe winked. “Humor me. ”

Niam took Rufe’s offered hand, but instead of leading him to the area cleared for dancing, Rufe exited from a side entrance, pulling Niam along. He passed through an area where cooks stored laden trays to be taken to the guests and disappeared into a pantry.

Rufe felt along one wall, yelled, “A-ha!” and pulled a lever, opening a door.

He lit a lantern sitting on a nearby shelf and said, “Come with me,” reminding Niam of all the times Rufe had visited his bed via the hidden passageway in Dellamar Castle.

Renvalle Castle shared some of the same features.

Given the warring nature of their ancestors and many important historical events starting with “the siege of…,” cleverly disguised escape routes made sense.

They climbed circular stairs that undoubtedly both saved lives and facilitated trysts throughout time.

Rufe stopped, pressed a hand against a wall, swung out a panel, and motioned Niam through.

Whoever decorated the chapel must’ve saved most of their creativity for this room.

Vibrant blossoms filled vases on several tables.

A light dusting of petals adorned the canopy bed, all highlighted by a blazing fire in the hearth.

Their wedding night.

Rufe cradled Niam’s cheeks between his palms, bringing their mouths together in a too-soft-for-Rufe kiss.

He pulled back with a bittersweet smile, something haunting in his dark eyes.

“I know we hadn’t planned this, and you hadn’t intended to bond again, but I tell you now, I give you my heart and soul.

I’ll do my best to be the partner you want and need. ”

Niam paused. Gossip said Rufe gave his affection freely and temporarily once. He’d give up all others for Niam ?

“That is more than I can ask of you. You were pressed into this arrangement, same as I.”

Rufe’s wicked smile nearly stopped Niam’s heart. “I couldn’t let you make vows to another.”

Oh, the declaration wasn’t about love after all, despite Rufe mentioning “heart and soul.” A touch of disappointment tainted the moment.

Rufe tipped his chin downward, staring more intently into Niam’s eyes. “I became yours the moment I saw Ned sitting by my bed when I lay wounded in your keep. I just never thought you could be mine.”

Really? “I think my interest came when you lay nearly at death’s door, yet you raked a gaze over me that had me wanting to drop my clothes to the floor and see how much we could accomplish without killing you.”

Rufe snickered. “I wish you’d have tried. And I wasn’t at death’s door.”

“Close enough. But I should tell you something. I needed a noble spouse, but it didn’t matter to me whether you were noble.

I still would’ve made you my consort if I thought you’d agree.

You’re an honest man. An honorable man. I haven’t met too many of those in my lifetime.

You’ve been my own personal warrior since the day we met.

I wanted you then. I want you now. I’ll always want you.

” The truth of those words cut to Niam’s very soul.

“Good. But given I’m such a great, honest man, I must say something myself. If you have regrets or this isn’t what you want, you'd best speak now before I make a besotted fool of myself. ”

Besotted fool? A flicker of a smile tugged at Niam’s lips. “Do your worst.”

The haunted look faded from Rufe’s eyes.

“So, I shall. Niam, simply looking at you makes me want to be a better man. I’ve never said these words to a lover, but I love you more than I ever thought possible.

I die a little inside each time I see you in danger and would gladly sacrifice everything I am to protect you.

” He brought his mouth down before letting Niam answer, tracing his tongue over the seam of Niam’s lips.

Niam parted his lips, allowing Rufe’s tongue to sweep into his mouth. This was his Rufe, his spouse, his king consort.

The warrior who loved him.

They broke the kiss long enough to shed their wedding attire, ties and laces impeding their momentum, until at last they stood naked before each other, Niam with his pale, liberally freckled flesh, mere traces of hair on his chest and a coppery patch around his groin and upward toward his navel.

His cock stood rigid, flushed with blood, long and slender, like the rest of his body.

Scars and blemishes marred Rufe’s darker skin, telling the story of his life, battles, and survival.

A mat of short, dark hair covered his chest, likely shaved when he wore padding and plate armor.

“I know I’m nothing to look at,” Rufe said, though he never tried to shield himself or the tattoo on his wrist. Dark hair adorned his arms, legs, and down his body and to his groin, broken in places by heavy scars.

One across his chest appeared particularly brutal.

His shorter but fatter cock rose from inky curls. Niam loved every bit of the man.

The bead of moisture at the slit… Damn, how Niam wanted a taste.

He cupped his hand over Rufe’s cock. Rufe let out a moan that almost sounded painful.

“You’re beautiful,” Niam whispered, keeping his voice reverent.

“Every scar means you survived to be here with me now, the most important moment in my life.” He dropped onto the pile of their discarded clothing, cushioning his knees from the floor, and nuzzled his nose into Rufe’s groin, inhaling deeply, committing the scent to memory.

He wrapped his lips around the head of that beautiful cock, reveling in Rufe’s sudden hiss.

The taste filled Niam’s mouth, making him close his eyes in pleasure and simply enjoy.

He’d thought he might never see Rufe again.

Not only did he get to see him, but Rufe willingly made vows, joining their lives together.