They rode in through the castle gates a few hours past sunrise the next morning. Breakfast had been available, but neither had eaten. Torrin had watched as Darian's face became more and more like stone, as his body hardened by degrees.

When the castle came into view, Torrin began to shake.

Once past the gates, Darian touched Torrin's shoulder. “Torrin, it is time. Take off your shirt.”

Torrin felt his trembling take over him a bit more. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt – the prince's shirt – and froze. Without thinking, he turned to Darian and kissed him.

Darian seemed to freeze in shock for a moment, but his lips turned up into a smile, and he pulled Torrin to him. “Do not fear,” he whispered. “I will be before you, and I will protect you.” And he pulled Torrin's lips back to his.

When they parted, Torrin found his fingers steady enough to remove his shirt. Then he sat beside Darian and waited for his entrance into Hell.

It didn't take nearly long enough. The carriage stopped and released both himself and Darian before heading over to the paddocks and stables on the left side of the gate. Torrin moved back to Darian's right, just as he'd been told to.

“Prince Darian! Prince Darian has returned!”

People came crawling out of doors to stand before Darian, forming a semi-circle.

“Excuse me. I must speak with the king.” Darian began moving forward. Torrin struggled to follow behind him.

“Oh by gods, is that a concubine?”

“So His Highness had finally found himself a worthy fuck!”

“I heard the prince never played twice.”

“Well, he is a pretty little thing.”

And someone reached out and rubbed his nipple.

He jumped about a foot in the air, and people laughed.

“Oh, a shy one.”

“Look at his hair.” A woman ran her hands through it. “It's so silky! I'm jealous!”

“He's got the ass of a girl,” one man observed, and touched it.

Torrin grit his teeth and fisted his hands. He could bear this. It would only be a bit longer, right? He looked at Darian. It was to stay with this man. If it was to stay with Darian, he could survive it. Couldn't he?

Torrin suffered through examinations of his legs, which had tripped him at first, his butt, his erection, his chest and hair and even his face and lips. There were wolf-calls and congratulations to Darian, even as people kept shouting their welcome.

The castle opened up before them, into an enormous hall with draperies of Corath's insignia, where even more people stood, cheering Darian's return. Even as Torrin was degraded, he was glad to hear so many shout praise to Darian. It was nice to know how loved he was, even if all Corans were barbarians. Darian was loved here, and so Darian was safer here.

Right?

They passed through that hall and stepped through new, large double doors. These doors opened into a more decorous room, with tapestries of wars and bloody battles. A red carpet led from the doors to a far-distant throne. There were rows of people on each side, but the king, Darian's own father, remained seated.

Torrin slogged through the hands that reached like vipers to poison him, continuing doggedly on Darian's heels. Finally he was close enough to see the king's face.

Torrin's immediate reaction was a breath of relief. While Darian had dark brown hair and eyes, his father had gray hair and charcoal-gray eyes. They didn't look at all alike.

But as they stepped closer, Torrin's breath was seized back up. The king's cruel eyes, accented by high, almost gaunt cheekbones, were assessing Torrin, the gaze hard and calculating. His lips, thin and cracked, turned up in a sneer, revealing sharp, crooked teeth. Torrin shuddered.

“Welcome back, Prince Darian Ameel-de Coras.”

“Thank you.” Darian bowed to one knee. Torrin hesitated for a second, unsure, before bowing low at the waist like a servant.

“Your efforts were a success.” It wasn't a question.

“Yes.”

Those gray eyes snaked over Torrin. “And you bring a pet.”

“My concubine.”

“Yes, so I see. Step forward, you.”

Torrin glanced to Darian, but the man was like stone. He walked forward as if facing the gallows.

The king stood now to walk around him. “A fine slut, I'm sure.” Torrin's chin was grabbed and lifted. “Pretty eyes.” The man's hand was dry and cracked, his fingernails broken and hard. They raked down his skin, sharply scratching his nipple. He winced in pain.

“Your first.” His broken nail stilled on Torrin's nipple and dug deep. Torrin felt blood seep. He bit his lip to keep silent. The king leaned in, granted Torrin access to his foul breath, and hissed, “do you like it? Does it feel good?”

Torrin clenched his trembling hands and said nothing.

“Oh? Have you nothing to say, little whore?” That nail dragged down his stomach, leaving an angry red line. Then that dry, hard palm cupped Torrin's manhood. “You've got a small dick, little slut. The only way you could pleasure anyone is by giving them your ass.”

Laughter bubbled up from the crowd at that, while Torrin felt shame swell inside him. He couldn't think for it.

The king turned to Darian. “A feast for your return shall be prepared for tonight. Bring your new toy.” That hateful nail raked him through his pants. He felt he very well may shrivel at the man's sick touch.

“Yes, my king.” Darian bowed, then turned to Torrin. “Come.” It was a sharp order. He didn't wait for Torrin, but turned and exited through the door by the left of the throne. Torrin bowed to the king and followed on Darian's heels.

They turned right through the doorway and traveled down that hall for a long time at a fast-paced clip. They passed several halls then before turning down a hall on the right, then taking turn after turn until Torrin was officially lost.

Then they came upon red double-doors with gold lines. Darian roughly opened them and stepped inside. Torrin followed.

The room was opulent to an extreme, with red carpeting and plush furnishings. A heavy curtain hid off a second part of the room.

The curtain was pushed back and a slightly older man emerged. He beamed at Darian. “Welcome back, Your Highness!” He stopped short and peered curiously at Torrin. “Who is this?”

“Ven. It's good to see you, but I need a moment.”

“Of course.” The old man bowed and made a graceful exit. Darian turned and locked the door. Then he turned to Torrin, grabbed him up and kissed him. “I am sorry,” Darian spoke, his lips moving on Torrin's. “I am so very sorry. I didn't know...” His grip on Torrin's upper arms squeezed even tighter. “I didn't know he would hurt you so. Usually he does not harm another's concubine. He was testing me again. I swear it took everything I had-” And Darian kissed him again. “I am so sorry.” Then Darian turned away from him and went through the curtain to the other side of the room.

Torrin stepped back until he bumped into the wall. Darian. Torrin could only think of Darian and his father and the immense differences between the two of them. Darian had said he'd had to hold himself back from fighting against his father. What would have happened to Darian if he'd gone against his father? Would he have been killed?

Torrin covered his face with his hands. If that were the case, then he would rather have to feel that foul touch every day.

“Torrin?”

Darian's concerned voice pulled Torrin from himself. He lowered his hands.

There was a naked emotion in Darian's eyes, a worry and apology both that warmed Torrin enough to stand surely on his feet. “I'm all right,” he whispered. He noticed a small container in Darian's hands and looked at it bemusedly. “Darian?”

“Sit.” He patted the cushion of his burgundy sofa and sat in the middle. Torrin went to sit beside him.

“Darian?” he asked again.

“Hush.” Darian twisted off the lid to reveal some sort of cream. “Hold still now.” He dipped his finger in, then carefully touched the creamy-lotion to Torrin's throbbing, still-bleeding nipple.

Torrin winced. It burned slightly, especially against such a sensitive spot.

“I'm sorry,” Darian said again.

“It's all right,” Torrin murmured. “You'll make me forget, right?”

Darian's touch hesitated for a moment. Something in his eyes deepened. “Yes.” Darian's voice was husky. “I will make you forget all of it. Every single touch that was not mine.”

Torrin smiled softly. “Thank you.”

“My little medic.” Darian cupped his cheek. It was odd to see those dark chocolate eyes so full of bare emotion, especially after they had been glazed cold for so long.

It was Heaven to meet Darian's lips again.

Torrin wrapped his arms around Darian's neck and leaned in. “Darian,” he murmured.

“Yes.” Darian maneuvered him so that their erections rubbed together. “Yes. Do not fear. I will protect you.”

“I'm all right. Really,” he said, and tugged on Darian's shirt.

Darian laughed. “Eager, are we?” He gingerly touched the welt that trailed down Torrin's chest and stomach. His eyes flashed regret again, regret and rage, before he leaned down and licked the trail the king left behind. Torrin gasped as a fire lit through his system.

Darian cupped Torrin's manhood and made him moan. “Darian,” he pleaded.

“Just right,” Darian murmured, trailing his tongue back up to Torrin's mouth. “You are just right, my medic. Don't hurt. He is not one you should care about. I am all that matters, and I find you perfect.”

He was talking about the king's cruel words on his length. Torrin smiled. “I know. Thank you.” He rubbed his hands down Darian's sides. “I'm staying with you, not him.”

“That's right.” Darian sounded relieved. “You're mine.” He played with Torrin's good nipple as he rubbed Torrin's erection beneath his pants.

“Yes.” Torrin strained against Darian's hand. “Darian...”

“Thank you,” Darian whispered, and kissed him again. “Thank you.” And again, even as he pulled off Torrin's pants and fisted Torrin's member. Torrin moaned and arched his back. “Thank you.”

“Darian, please...”

“Thank you,” he whispered again, then led Torrin's hand to his own hot need and had them pleasure one another.

<*>

Ven returned a while after. Torrin had cleaned up the mess they'd made, much to Darian's amusement, by going through the curtained-off bedchamber to the large bathroom installed beside it.

Both rooms were luxurious. The bedroom had a large four-poster bed with a huge nightstand and a closet big enough to house almost all of Torrin's old home. The bathroom had working plumbing and an overly-large bathtub big enough for ten.

“My Lord, shall I prepare your bath?” Ven asked.

Darian nodded. “Yes, thank you, Ven. That would be good.” He turned to Torrin. “Unfortunately, this is a meal too important for you to skip. You will say nothing, and eat only what I give you. Understand?”

Torrin nodded. “I'll be fine, D-” He remembered what Darian had told him after they'd calmed down – here he blushed, remembering – that he couldn't call Darian 'Darian' when others were around. He winced. “M-Master. Really. You don't need to worry about me.”

Darian cocked an eyebrow but smiled again. “Oh?” But the smile fell. “There will most likely be my usual suitor, Lady Ledia. Be prepared for anything with that women.”

“Lady Ledia?” Torrin repeated.

“Blond, but with purple eyes instead of your beautiful blue.” Darian cupped his chin. “She will be angry to learn I've chosen a concubine, and furious to find you to be male. Keep your hands and toes clear of her. Your introduction is over – she may not touch you. Tell me immediately if she or anyone else tries.”

“All right.” Torrin hesitantly touched Darian's cheek. “I understand.”

Darian's eyes burned into him. Words flew through Torrin's mind, but they couldn't form any coherent patterns. Despite everything he felt, there was no way for him to speak of them. But how he wished he could.

“My prince, your bath is ready.”

“Good. Come,” he spoke to Torrin, and went through the bedroom to the enormous bath. Torrin followed on his heels.

Darian gently touched Torrin shoulder and leaned in. “I am sorry to treat you so poorly,” he whispered.

“I understand. Do what you must.” Torrin gave him another smile.

Darian nodded. “Get in. We shall wash together.”

Torrin looked at the pool-bath and blushed. “Um... what?”

Darian snorted a soft chuckle. “Get in,” he murmured.

Torrin shot Darian a look, but stepped carefully into the water. He jumped at the touch. “It's hot! How can it be hot so quickly? Surely it takes longer-”

With a short laugh, Darian pushed him in. Torrin yelped and fell in with a splash. It was deep, oddly enough. Or perhaps not odd at all. He sputtered up, indignant, only to find Darian, now naked, stepping in to join him.

“Darian!” he gasped. His pants had lowered and entangled him, and the bath was just deep enough for him to stand up and still be underwater. He damned his short stature.

“Hold still, my medic,” he smirked. With one firm yank, Torrin was held above the water and his pants removed. “There. Better?”

Torrin snuggled into Darian's embrace. “Much,” he murmured.

Darian moaned. “Come, we must get ready. We cannot afford to be late.”

“Darian,” Torrin said softly, even as he helped Darian reach the soap, “your father – the king – will he punish you for being late?”

Darian's eyes suddenly hardened. “Do not worry over such things.”

“But-”

“Enough.” Darian turned to him, forgetting the soap in his hands. “Drop the subject, and don't bring it up again.”

Torrin bristled. “But if you-”

“I said that's enough. Need I punish you?”

Torrin stopped, shocked. Darian's usually warm chocolate eyes were suddenly so mean and cruel. Torrin felt a lance of pain shoot through his chest. “You wouldn't,” he breathed.

“I will if you continue.”

Torrin closed his mouth, unable to speak even if he wished. He hated the hurt that stole over his body, the pain that brought a burning to his eyes. Why? Why would Darian suddenly be so cruel? Just because Torrin asked him that – because he was worried about him?

He felt cold, even in the hot water, leaning on Darian's warm chest. Without thought he moved to get off, turning away.

Darian grabbed him by the waist and pulled him back. He flinched this time at the contact. “Torrin,” Darian breathed, “wait.”

Still Torrin could not speak, still he was unable to make his body respond. Probably because his mind and heart both didn't know what to do.

“Torrin. You must never speak that man's name – ever. Not as king, not as father. Ever. Do not speak of him in my presence. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Torrin said dully. But he didn't understand.

Darian wrapped him into a hug, his chest to Torrin's back. “This is a rule I will not back down on.”

Still Torrin said nothing.

Darian squeezed him harder, almost with desperation. “Torrin?” His voice sounded almost scared now. It was enough to make Torrin finally respond.

“I just... don't want you hurt. I won't ask again.”

“Gods, I know. I know that's why you asked, and I am grateful.” Darian truly was desperate. His fingers trembled slightly when he used them to turn Torrin's head to him. “But you must not speak of it.” Darian kissed him. “Your concern, though... thank you.”

Torrin didn't understand, but Darian seemed to still be Darian. What was it about speaking of the king that disturbed Darian so much?

“Come now – we must bathe.”

Torrin felt Darian's hands move, then return. They were soapy. Torrin moaned. It felt good.

“Soon,” Darian whispered, “We shall return here for pleasure.”

Without a word, Torrin turned and kissed Darian, gently taking the soap from him and lathering his own hands.

All was forgiven.

<*>

Once clean, Darian went with Ven to get dressed, as Torrin did not yet know how to work the clasps and buttons and strings. Torrin was left to stay in the lounge area with strange garments. Two tight leather pieces were obviously to cover his chest and his crotch, but they left his stomach and legs open to view. Then there was a sort of open cloak, sleeveless and button-less, that trailed down to his knees.

All of it was simple enough to put on, and Torrin was left to wait. He was nervous thinking about the dinner coming up, and he couldn't help but be upset about Darian's fierce anger in the bath earlier. What had it been about? And if he broke Darian's order and asked again, or if he spoke of the king, would Darian really whip him?

Darian came out of the bedroom then, checking the cuff of one of his sleeves. He was dressed to the nines, as befitting a royal prince. His pants were navy blue, his boots shining black Wellingtons. He wore a light blue shirt underneath a matching navy-blue robe. A white ascot played at his neck. Gold trim traced its way down the garments, matched by a flowing dark-blue cape. Atop his head sat a golden crown gleaming with gems of sapphire and ruby and amethyst.

Torrin stared at that crown as one might a rabid animal.

Then Darian looked to him and smiled. “Blue suits you, medic. It sets off your eyes. The black cloak is a nice touch, Ven.”

“Thank you, my liege,” came the reply from inside the bedroom.

“Oh – but Torrin, you forgot something.” Darian strode toward him.

“Eh? I did?” Torrin looked around. What more had he missed?

“These.” Darian picked up two groups of golden bangle bracelets.”

“Those are for me?” Torrin asked.

“Yes. It's not just an accessory.” He placed about ten bangles on his left arm, then the same amount on his right. “They immediately let me know of your movements.”

“Oh.” Torrin glared at the bangles. Maybe he'd been stupid to allow himself to be-

No. No, he had to trust Darian. He wouldn't yell at him without a reason, right? And the reason wouldn't be just because Darian didn't like the king... would it?

“There. Now we may go.” Darian leaned in to whisper in Torrin's ear. “You look fantastic.”

Did Darian always have to be so fake? Did he always have to hide like this? “You look intimidating,” Torrin whispered back.

Darian laughed. “Oh, do I?”

Torrin nodded. “Especially that,” he whispered, looking at the crown.

Darian sobered. “Yes, I suppose you have not seen me with this before. It is a part of who I am.”

“I know.” But if he truly was in love, it was terrifying to have it thrown in his face what he was in love with someone outrageously higher than his own station. Especially now, when his station had dropped so low.

“Do you see me differently?” Darian asked. His voice sounded somewhat tense.

Torrin nodded again. “You seem even more powerful.”

“Does it scare you?”

“The power you have? Yes. But you don't.”

Darian smiled. “That's all right, then.” He turned. “We must go.”

Torrin nodded, then paused. “Um, Darian – didn't-” He stopped. “Master,” he corrected himself, “didn't your-” He wanted to curse. “It's supposed to be a dinner feast, right? Aren't we early?”

“Dinner starts at three,” Darian told him.

“Oh.” Torrin shrugged. “That's strange.”

Darian seemed to chuckle. “Let us go, medic.”

Torrin fell into step behind Darian.