The War Gift - part 9

Voices aroused Cailan from a comfortable sleep and he sat up slowly.  Yawning, he glanced towards the window.  Only starlight could be seen, and the deepness of the black in the sky told him it was the middle of the night.  The voices weren’t a dream though.  The sound of them ebbed and flowed, alerting Cailan’s slowly waking mind to the lack of Jarek’s body in the bed and a flicker of lamplight showing through the keyhole of the door to the parlor.

He slid from the bed and absently grabbed for the pants he’d worn the evening before.  Rubbing his eyes, he moved to the door and entered the parlor.  Jarek and King Alaric were both in the room, dressed only in night robes and fervently whispering at the table where Cailan and Jarek usually ate their meals.  Several books and papers were spread on the tabletop between them.  Their ardent discussion stopped when they saw Cailan enter.  The king seemed surprised at Cailan’s sudden presence and half-dressed state, but Jarek rose from his seat and moved quickly to meet him.

“Petling, you should be asleep.”

“I’m alright,” Cailan assured.  “I heard voices.  Is everything ok?  It’s the middle of the night.”

“It’s fine, love.  I simply came across some information I felt was prudent to share with my brother.”

“Before the sun rises?”

“Yes.  Tomorrow has its own matters to be dealt with, so sometimes working at night is necessary.”

“What are you doing?”

“We are simply re-familiarizing ourselves with some old documents.”

“May I help?” Cailan requested.  “You know I’m well read.”

“I know, but you cannot help with this.  It needs to be between Alaric and me for now.”

Cailan sighed.  “May I stay with you at least?  I’ll be silent.”

Jarek shook his head.  “No, petling.  I want you to go back to bed.  You need to sleep.”

“I’d rather be here.”

Jarek turned him toward the door and gave him a semi-firm swat.  “I’ve said no.  Do you remember at all what I told you in bed this evening?”

Flashes of words came to Cailan’s head, as well as a rather predictable physical response from his body when he recalled what they were doing at the time.  Still, he knew what Jarek was referring to.  “Submitting to you will be difficult sometimes, and I have a choice to obey or disobey.”

“Yes, young one, and disobedience results in consequences.  Do you need me to reprimand you in front of my brother, or are you going to please me and abide by my wishes?”

Cailan was already rather embarrassed about King Alaric witnessing the moderate swat Jarek had just given him.  He definitely didn’t want more, and so capitulated unwillingly.  “I will go back to bed, but will you come back soon?”

“As soon as I am able,” Jarek promised.

With a slight slump to his shoulders, Cailan did as he was bid and returned to the dark bedroom.  Once under the covers, it was hard to return to sleep, but eventually the warmth of the blankets and the indistinguishable sound of voices from the other room lulled him back under.

When he woke in the morning, it was a welcome feeling to have Jarek’s arms around him.  It was still a strange emotion to acknowledge, but it seemed important that he was honest with himself about it. 

Another thing he needed to be honest about was his strong need to use one of the private compartments in the bathing room.  He tried to slip out of bed carefully, but he’d barely moved a few inches before the arms around him tightened to keep him in place.

“Stay, petling,” said Jarek’s voice sleepily as his eyes remained closed.

“My lord, I will be back shortly, but I really must attend to another matter right now,” Cailan earnestly informed.

Jarek groaned but released him.  Cailan moved quickly out of the bed and to the connecting room to do as he needed.  When he returned Jarek had sat up, but the big man held the covers up and Cailan slid under them again.  He was hugged against Jarek’s side while the man reached toward one of the bedside tables and retrieved a slim book.  Cailan recognized it immediately as his journaler.

“I was looking through some of your questions last night,” his owner told him.  “I was curious about a few of them.”

“Which ones?”

Jarek flipped open the book to the page he wanted.  “This was one of them.  What colors do you see in our hair, petling?”

“All different colors,” Cailan stated.  “Red, blue, green, gray.”

“You don’t see black?” Jarek questioned.  He sounded concerned and Cailan realized he’d missed naming the dominant color.

“Oh yes, everyone has black hair, but I see that almost everyone always has a subtle secondary color mixed in.  I was wondering if those colors meant anything.  I mean, hair color tells a lot about an Artenian, but it hasn’t seemed to work the same here, so I wasn’t sure.”

Jarek answered calmly, but there was almost a careful tone to his voice.  “No, there is no meaning within the color of our hair.  But, tell me, do you like my color?”

Cailan thought he understood the undertone then.  Jarek was seeking confirmation of Cailan’s attraction to him, just as he had been when things had happened with Princess Sana the night before. 

“I’ve wanted to ask about the colors I’ve seen since arriving, but I kept forgetting to do so.  Your hair is especially fascinating.  I’ve never seen the silver shimmer it contains on anyone before coming here; but now I’ve seen it on everyone I’ve met in the royal family.  It’s beautiful.  I assume it’s a royal trait or a quality just within your bloodline?”

Jarek nodded once, and then dipped his head to ardently kiss the smaller man’s lips.  Cailan was a bit taken aback at the unexpected enthusiasm that he felt from the other man, but the headiness of it was pleasant to experience.  As they kissed, the two of them slid down until they were flat on the bed and Cailan believed they were working toward more when almost as abruptly as the kiss had started, Jarek ended it.

“What’s wrong?” Cailan asked immediately, surprising both of them when he gripped Jarek’s shoulders to prevent the man from pulling further away.

Jarek allowed himself to be pulled back, resting just enough of his weight on the smaller man to hedge him in without hurting, but he didn’t kiss him again.

“Nothing is wrong, little love, but if I don’t stop now I won’t be able to, and I’m afraid plans for the day have already been made.”

Cailan wasn’t very successful at hiding his disappointment.  “You’re leaving again?”

“Yes, but I plan to have you with me where I can, and the first place we are expected is at a late brunch with the king.”

“Do you two have more to discuss after last night?” Cailan wondered.

“Much more,” Jarek confirmed, “but that will hold until later.  However, we will not be the only ones at this meal and we don’t have much time before we are expected.  It is later than I realized.”

“Who else will be there?”

Jarek shifted off of the younger man and held a hand out to him.  Cailan took it, allowing himself to be pulled from the bed and ushered into the bathing room to wash while trying to ignore the arousal Jarek had induced in him. 

“There will be several there,” his master answered as he hurried them through the bath.  “The king and queen and both my younger siblings will be in attendance.  I wish you could have met Sem apart from a group, but it’s not possible.  Besides the family, there is a delegation from another kingdom that will be joining us.”

“What kingdom?” Cailan questioned.

“Berring.”

Cailan shook his head.  “I have never heard of that country.”

“I’m not surprised.  It is a fair distance from both Cylandrea and Arten, and they are a very insular society, much more than we are in Cylandrea.  They always retain a neutral status when other kingdoms go to battle, but they personally have a very strong military from what I’ve gathered.”

“Why has a delegation come here?”

“It’s a little complicated,” Jarek replied as he motioned for Cailan to move ahead of him out of the pool.  “We have sought for a long time to obtain an alliance with them.  Having access to the Berring kingdom would shorten several of our trade routes, as well as broaden the economics for both countries.  Plus, if their military is a good as I’ve been led to believe, we would like to pursue a friendship with them and not risk a war.  Up to this time, Berring has refused to ally themselves with anyone.  However, according to my sources, the country has fallen onto some hard times—flooding that took out much of a year’s crops, and a ground quake that has caused severe difficulties to a lucrative mining venture they had going.”

“That’s awful,” Cailan sympathized.

“It is, but those are the reasons why they’ve approached us.  They are seeking our aide to supply them with crops and seedlings until the next harvest season, and for a company of men to assist in redeveloping their mining operation with a promise of a fifteen percent tithe to be given to Cylandrea from the profits.”

“That sounds like a good thing for both countries then.”

“Possibly, but neither Alaric nor I have decided whether it is truly in the country’s best interest or not.”

“Why do you hesitate?” Cailan questioned.  The two of them had moved back to the bedroom and Jarek dressed himself, making Cailan wait so he could choose the clothes for him.  He examined the options in the chest and soon drew out a uniquely designed red tunic with a thin leather belt attached, and a pair of semi-formal grey leggings.  “I can dress myself,” he grumbled slightly when Jarek slipped the shirt onto him, obviously enforcing the higher level of control he’d told Cailan he’d be doing the day before.  He yelped as a smack landed on the back of one leg just below his left cheek, and would have moved away from his master except for the grip the man now had on his hips.  He was brought close to the bigger man and Jarek spoke firmly.

“I know you can dress yourself, but it pleases me to dress you.  I delight in touching you in such a way and seeing how what I choose drapes over you.  It does not please me when you grumble and complain.”

“I’m sorry,” Cailan offered ashamedly.  Those mixed feelings of princely pride yet desire to gratify Jarek suddenly warred very strongly within him.

“I know,” Jarek assured.  “You have not yet been with me a week and it takes time to learn, but learn you will unless you want your bottom to frequently feel the sting of my hand.  And that reminds me…”  One hand remained on Cailan’s hip while the other cupped his chin and forced eye contact.  “I believe we both desire to keep the intimacies of our relationship to the privacy of these quarters, but I will warn you that public misbehavior may require public chastisement.”

Cailan’s eyes widened in shock.  “You would castigate me in front of others?”

“You would disobey me in front of an audience?” Jarek questioned in reply.

Cailan felt the humbling in that question as he understood what Jarek was telling him.  “I will try not to shame you, my lord.”

Jarek seemed to soften a bit at that and he returned to dressing the young prince.  “I can’t imagine being ashamed of you, sweet one, but I will supply consequences if your behavior does not meet the standards I expect of you.  Do you remember what those standards are?”

Cailan nodded.  “I am not to speak to anyone until I am spoken to, unless it is you.  I am allowed to speak freely to you still?”

“Yes,” Jarek confirmed.  “So long as it is respectful.  What else?”

“I will be beside you at your feet because I am under your care and authority, not because you see me as beneath you.”

“Very good, petling,” Jarek praised as he finished situating the clothes.  “Now there is one other thing I must tell you before we leave.  I am fairly sure you will not like it, but it is the way it is, understood?”

Cailan didn’t like the sound of that.  “What?”

“The delegation from Berring brought a contribution with them, an offering to the royal house should the king choose to enter into an agreed upon alliance.”

Cailan knew what it was before Jarek said it.  “The guest,” he said bleakly.  “The one King Alaric has insisted you entertain.  It is another concubine isn’t it?”

“It is,” his master confirmed.  “And he has specifically been offered to me since Alaric is married and I am the next in line.  As is custom, and to show that the offering is being considered, I will be feeding him as well as you.”

Cailan pulled away from Jarek and his owner let him.  “You are right.  I do not like this, but that matters little.”

“No, my prince, to me it matters a lot,” Jarek uttered, “but this is an example of a time when we both must submit to those who have rule over us.  You do not wish to share me, but today it is necessary.  I would prefer to not claim another concubine, but for the good of the kingdom and at my king’s command, I must seriously consider it.”

Cailan swallowed hard, his back to Jarek.  “Have you already…known him?” he asked, hating the way he was feeling right then, like the possession he knew he was, but also jealous, hurt, and a little scared.

“No, my petling, I would not engage with him like that unless an alliance is reached, but then I would be honor-bound to receive him as the offering he is.  However, Alaric and I are both being cautious about this step, and that is why I have spent the time I have with these guests and him.  It is to help us know him and the people of Berring’s kingdom better.  You are probably not aware that our royal house does not accept every concubine or servant we are offered, particularly if they have come from a country we have such limited knowledge of.”

“You accepted me,” Cailan stated, but then rephrased his words.  “No, that is not right.  I was a substitute for my little brother and a fulfillment of those horrid ancient terms of our ancestors.”

“Yes,” Jarek didn’t deny, “but from the moment I saw you and you spoke with such honor and love for your family and country, I knew you were more.  I will always say you are my gift, whether you want to believe it or understand it.  And I am regretful that you are hurt by this.”

What Cailan was, was emotional.  “I do not wish to go to this meal,” he said firmly.

“I am not surprised, but you will go because the king has requested our presence and because I require it of you as well.  You will behave as you know to do because it brings honor to both of us.  You will also sit at my right side where you belong so I may feed and care for you as is proper, and so those from the Berring delegation will see that I favor you, but also that I take care of what has been given to me.  The young man they offer is not of princely station as you are, but he is the son of a noble and they need to see that we can be trusted with a countryman they value.”

Hot anger erupted in Cailan when he felt a tear slip traitorously down his cheek.  “I don’t like this!” he yelled as he wiped brutally at the wetness.

He was grabbed roughly into an embrace that pressed his entire body against Jarek’s, and he instinctively yet embarrassingly buried his face into the firm chest.  “It is the pendulum again.  Back and forth.  I feel betrayed by everything…even myself.”

“No, young one.”  Jarek’s tone was gruff and firm.  “You are not being betrayed.  I promise, it will be all right.”

“Must I go?  I do not wish to see another who would share the same bed as me.”

“Yes, petling, you must go, but I want you to hear something important first.”  He cupped the back of Cailan’s head, allowing the smaller man to continue hiding his face.  “I have never shared my private quarters and personal bed with anyone other than you.”

That startled Cailan into looking up at Jarek’s face for sincerity.  “What?”

“I have never shared our bed with another, not a concubine or a lover,” Jarek repeated.  “A separate room has always been used when a concubine has been received into the house, and I’ve only ever brought a lover to a prepared guest room, never my personal quarters.”

That was a shocking revelation.  “Then why me?” Cailan had to ask.

Jarek pressed a firm yet tender kiss to the smaller man’s brow.  “As I have told you and will keep telling you, you are special.”

Some of the turmoil left Cailan’s spirit, but he felt weary.  “I still don’t understand that.”

“I know, little love, but it will always be true.  Now, we must hurry.  It would be very poor of us to arrive late.”

Cailan slowly nodded and let himself be led from the room, wondering how difficult the upcoming meal would be.

*****

They arrived before the delegation from Berring, but were the last of the royal family to enter the opulent dining room that had been arranged for the meal.  Cailan right away noticed the King, Queen Kesla, and Princess Sana—who still left him dry-mouthed with her loveliness.  Another young man with that silver shimmer in his black hair sat with the princess on a small chaise, but his attention immediately turned to Jarek and Cailan when they entered.  He rose quickly, looking ready to come to them, but then paused as he glanced toward the king, holding back when Alaric moved to be the first to welcome them.

“Jarek, I expected you sooner,” he scolded even as he greeted his brother with an accepting squeeze on Jarek’s shoulder.

“I know, my king.  I apologize for delaying anything.”

“You’ve delayed nothing, Jarek,” Queen Kesla assured as she stood next to her husband.  “Senior Charon won’t be escorting our guests to the meal for another quarter of an hour.”

“Yes, but Sem has been anxious to see you.  He’s been busy with his own soldier company and the research assignments we’ve asked of him in recent weeks.  I did not realize until last night that he had not met Prince Cailan yet.”

“Our responsibilities have kept us all busy,” Jarek reminded.  “But I am glad for them to finally meet.”  He placed a hand on Cailan’s back.  “Come and make acquaintance with my little brother, petling.”

He ushered them toward the younger man, but they were met halfway when Sem plowed into Jarek with an enthusiastic hug.  Cailan thought it was an odd and rather immature way for a young royal to behave, but Jarek just laughed, and it was quickly clear that there was strong attachment between the two of them.  Sem was nearly the same size and breadth as Jarek, so Cailan knew the impact had to have been felt, but his master was clearly able to hold his own. 

“Nice try, rugrat.  The day hasn’t yet come where you can tackle me,” the older brother teased.

“I will someday, you brute.  I’ve learned from the best and I’ve got the strength of youth on my side.”

“And the maturity of a toddler,” Jarek taunted back as he released his brother from their hug.  “How am I supposed to convince my companion or our guests that you are intelligent, strong, and one of my commanders when you bounce around like a puppy?”

“Not my problem,” Sem answered without worry.

Jarek rolled his eyes, but reached for Cailan and brought him so he was facing the younger brother.  “Sem, I know you’ve heard of him from Al and Sana, but this is my war gift and companion, Prince Cailan.  Cailan, this rugrat is the baby of the family, Prince Sem.”

Unfortunately, both Cailan and Sem chose to greet one another with a bow at the same moment, and the sound of them clunking heads was inordinately loud.  They groaned in unison at the impact and both were abruptly pulled close to Jarek and had their foreheads gently examined.

“For goodness sake, are you both all right?” he exclaimed.

Alaric quickly joined them and took over scrutinizing his younger brother’s head while Jarek took a closer look at Cailan’s.  The smaller man flinched slightly when Jarek ran his fingers over the injured spot where a small bump was already rising.

“Sorry, petling.  Here, sit down.  Kesla has sent a servant to fetch some ice.”

To Cailan’s embarrassment, Jarek brought him to a couch and had him sit on his knee. “My lord,” he whispered, his face red.  “I’m all right.  I don’t need to sit here.”

“You do if it is where I place you,” Jarek said for Cailan’s ears only.  “There is no shame in sitting like this where others can see.  It would actually shame me if I did anything less because it would show a lack of care.”

Still red, Cailan didn’t press to be let up, but he struggled to look at anyone else when the servant returned with two cloths fill with ice and Jarek placed one gently on Cailan’s head.  After a minute, his possessor leaned close to Cailan’s ear and whispered.  “Look at Sem, petling.”

Cailan unwillingly looked toward the other prince, surprised to see that he was lying prone and had his head in Sana’s lap as she held the cloth of ice to his injured spot.

“We take care of those we love in this family, and we are not ashamed to do it.  We know you and Sem will be all right, and that you’ve both suffered much worse injuries in battle or training, but that doesn’t mean that a minor injury is of no importance to us.”

He said those words loudly enough that the rest of the room’s inhabitants heard him.  Prince Sem shifted enough from his position to be able to look toward Cailan.

“Don’t fight the coddling, your highness,” he said with a gleam in his eye.  “If you play your cards right, you won’t have to do any work for days.”

Queen Kesla giggled while the other three siblings groaned.  “I swear Father didn’t take you over his knee often enough, Sem,” the king avowed.

“It was frequent enough, thank you,” the younger man maintained.  “And you more than made up for the times he didn’t.  You and Jarek both.”

“Well some of us had to step in to keep you from your foolish acts when Father was unavailable.  You should thank us for helping you make it to adulthood.”

“Thank you,” Sem said dutifully, but with no sincerity at all, making everyone—even Cailan—laugh.

“You’re welcome,” the king replied, matching Sem’s tone.  “Now the two of you keep that ice in place until our guests arrive.”  He turned his attention to Jarek.  “Brother, I’d like a few moments in privacy before the Berring group appears.”

Jarek settled Cailan on the divan before unquestioningly following Alaric to an alcove.  It was impossible to make out what the two men discussed, but based on the tone of the muffled words, both seemed to find it important.  They didn’t rejoin the rest of them until a servant approached the queen and said the Berring delegates were about to arrive.  She alerted the king, who returned with her at his side, while Jarek rejoined Cailan and the prince and princess stood from their seats as well.

Senior steward Charon was seen first when the doors to the room opened.  He stepped to the side with a small bow to allow the entrance of the group he was assisting.

Cailan observed the people coming into the room.  Servants and palace guards followed them and took up obviously familiar posts within the space.  Alaric did not approach the group in greeting as he had with his family.  Instead he waited with regal patience until the apparent leader of the Berring delegation approached him and went down respectfully to one knee. 

“Your majesty,” the man greeted with head bowed.  “We are honored to share a meal with you and your family.  It was generous of you to extend the invitation to all of us.”

The king lightly touched the man’s shoulder, allowing him to rise as he answered.  “You are my guests.  Alliance discussion is kept between you, myself, and Leader Jarek, but I am pleased to share a meal with all who have come with you.  I believe I need to introduce you to a couple you have not yet met.”  Alaric held a hand toward his wife and the queen stepped forward.  “This is my wife, Queen Kesla.  My dear, this is Sir Maiki, leader of the Berring delegation, and representative and advisor to their king.”

The man bowed and kissed the queen’s hand.  “It is an honor, your majesty.”

She nodded courteously at him, but Cailan thought she looked strained and he wondered if she was feeling poorly that day.

Then, surprising Cailan, the king motioned to him and Jarek walked him forward for introductions. 

“This is Prince Cailan of Arten, a gifted concubine and companion to Leader Jarek,” the king informed.

That information clearly surprised the Berring leader, and he didn’t look pleased, but he offered the shallowest bow he could give without offense while Cailan bowed deeply as he’d been taught.

“Senior Charon will show you to your seats,” Alaric announced when the introductions were finished.  “Young Comley may approach Leader Jarek.

Sir Maiki gave a signal and a young man Cailan hadn’t seen enter was ushered forward from amongst the group.  Cailan was taken aback when he saw hair very close to his own color, perhaps just a shade darker, topped the head of who he assumed was the young concubine being offered.  The man appeared to approach Jarek quite willingly, and just as he reached him he went down on his knees, his head bowed in obeisance.  It was done so smoothly that Cailan felt shown up—a familiar feeling in his life, but not one he’d thought he’d feel as a concubine.

“You may rise, Comley,” Jarek directed.  “You will be at my left as we eat.”

“Yes, my lord,” the man replied as if he’d been raised to fulfill this role.

When they were all in their places, the king ordered for the meal to be served.  Once seated on the cushion at Jarek’s right, Cailan couldn’t help but steal glances at the other young man.  He didn’t have a good feeling about Comley, but he didn’t know if that had to do with the man’s qualities, or simply was a result of how his feelings had developed for Jarek and his unwillingness to share his owner.

He also couldn’t help but want to stare at Comley’s hair.  Cailan had never seen another silver-haired individual.  The cut of it was quite short, much shorter than any man in Arten usually wore their hair, but the style was flattering on the—regrettably—attractive young man.  The more looks he got at the man though, the more he thought the color didn’t suit Comley’s overall image.  The whitish-silver of his strands clashed with the man’s olive complexion and brown eyes.

“Petling?”

Cailan’s thoughts were pulled away from the other concubine by his master’s voice.  He looked up and his stomach quivered slightly at Jarek’s mildly disapproving gaze.  The man was holding a bite of food and Cailan accepted it, realizing that Jarek must have been waiting longer than he should have for the food to be taken.  As he chewed, Jarek cupped the top if his head. 

“You need to pay attention, petling,” he said quietly.  “First to me, and then to the activities of those around us.  If someone addresses you, I don’t want them thinking they are being ignored.”

“Yes, my lord,” he replied penitently.

“Leader Jarek?”

Their brief discussion was interrupted by a member of the Berring group.  Cailan worked to stay aware of the conversations going on around him, although that was initially difficult when he glanced back at Comley and saw the other man smirking at him.  Clearly he’d overheard Jarek’s mild reprimand and took pleasure in Cailan’s humbling.

“What?” he hissed at the concubine and glared at him. 

It was low enough that the table wouldn’t have heard him, but Jarek was close enough to hear the angry question.  He looked down disapprovingly at Cailan, and then to Comley.  “Lads, if necessary I will blindfold you both so there are no distractions.”

Cailan blushed and Comley looked appropriately—if not falsely in Cailan’s opinion—contrite. 

“Apologies, my lord,” Comley offered.  “May I make amends?”  He placed a hand on Jarek’s thigh and smiled suggestively, a much too personal look and touch for Cailan’s peace of mind but he bit his tongue to keep from saying anything. 

Jarek gently patted Comley’s hand, but shook his head.  “No, just behave yourself.”

He went back to his meal then, taking a bite for himself and then giving one first to Cailan and then to Comley. 

The rest of the brunch was trying for the young prince.  The chatter amongst those dining was boring.  The Berring group seemed annoyingly obsequious to the royal family, and Comley acted as the perfect submissive, although he willingly smirked at Cailan anytime their eyes met.  For Cailan, it was particularly annoying to experience because he knew that as recently as a week ago the young noble would have suffered retribution from the Artenian royal family for acting so disrespectfully to one of their princes.

He was reminded of an incident when he was ten and his father had several sorcerers-in-training at the palace.  It was one of the professions that King Saxon had kept a personal hand in since magic could so easily be abused.  He regularly checked on anyone practicing or training in the vocation. 

On that day his father had allowed him and his oldest brother, Abed, to accompany him while he spoke to the trainees: Abed because Saxon was preparing him to someday be king, and Cailan because he’d begged to be allowed along.  While his father spoke individually to the different apprentices, Cailan had tagged along with Abed who was monitoring one of the demonstrations being done.  He’d enjoyed watching a young sorceress create a funnel of air that reached from the floor to the ceiling. 

But, during that demonstration, two other trainees who had been waiting their turns with the king were quietly gossiping.  Cailan hadn’t paid attention to them at first, but the muted sound of the word “silver” caught his attention.  Both he and Abed heard the words “shame to have a royal silver-born”, and the condescension uttered between those discussing him.

He remembered struggling not to cry as shame for the way he’d been born tightened his chest, but Abed had stiffened angrily and reached protectively for his hand as he walked him to where their father was just finishing with a young apprentice.  Abed had recounted what they’d heard to the king, whose face had darkened.  At first Cailan thought he was upset to have a silver-born son too, but discovered he was wrong when his father had immediately approached the two men and soundly berated them in front of the group.  They’d then been escorted out of the palace and had their magic privileges revoked until the king deemed them worthy to practice.  To this day Cailan didn’t know if those privileges had ever been returned.

It was a bittersweet memory; one that made him homesick for his family, but also somewhat relieved to be in a land that did not have prejudices against a silver-born.

His thoughts turned again to the other concubine, wondering if he had ever been looked down on in the Berring kingdom for his hair color.  Cailan still thought the shade looked odd on the other man…and then something clicked in his brain.   When he had considered years ago of purchasing a body changing spell, the sorcerer he’d spoken to had let him know that there were spells to alter hair color as well.  Cailan could almost hear the words the man had said: For those familiar with you, and mostly anyone in the kingdom, any color you choose will not look natural.  False color never suits an individual more than their natural look, even if the natural is silver.  However, visitors to the land or those much less knowledgeable of you aren’t likely to realize the color is not your own.

Cailan had seriously considered that option, but knew it really wouldn’t change his life since everyone already knew he was a silver-born.  In fact, he’d probably be looked down on more.  But now, as he glanced again at the other concubine, he truly believed the hair color was spell work.

It was not an appropriate time to tell this to Jarek though.  Cailan followed his better judgment that said to wait until they could speak privately.

After the meal it appeared the two groups would depart, but Sir Maiki delayed their leaving by approaching Jarek and the king.

“My lieges, thank you for a delicious meal.  Leader Jarek, I hope the time you spent these last few days with our young noble Comley has been pleasurable for you.  The two of you seem to match well.”

It was a bold thing to say and something Cailan resented, but at the same time he understood the man’s audacity since he was seeking aid for the disasters that had befallen the Berring kingdom.  From what Jarek had told him, accepting the other man as a concubine would be a solidification of a treaty between the two countries.

“Young Comley seems well-trained and of an enjoyable temperament,” Jarek agreed. 

“But a decision has not yet been made, Sir Maiki,” King Alaric maintained.  “We will continue our discussion of the alliance this afternoon.”

“Yes, your majesty.  However, we wanted to offer Comley’s ongoing presence with Leader Jarek through the day.  He is quite anxious to please.”

There was strong insinuation in that, and Cailan very nearly spoke up.  Thankfully, just as he opened his mouth, Jarek tactfully declined the offer. 

“Comley’s desire to serve is gratifying and he is pleasing to look upon, but until terms between us have been decided, I will not take him to bed even if he is willing.”

There was the briefest flash, a barely imperceptible glance at Cailan from the Berring leader, but the man quickly bowed in respect, hiding his face.  “As you wish, sire.  We will see you this afternoon then.”

Half the room’s occupants left at that time, which made Cailan breathe a sigh of relief.  It was short-lived though when Jarek took a grip on his hand that felt unnecessarily firm.

“You and I need to have a small discussion, my prince,” he said with foreboding.

Cailan looked at him in alarm.  “Why?”

“Because of some of your behavior at the table.”

Before Cailan could reply, Jarek excused them from the others’ presence and walked Cailan to a sitting room adjacent to the dining area they were just in.  The young prince’s alarm increased when Jarek sat down on a single chair and firmly pulled Cailan across his lap.

“My lord!”  Cailan pleaded. 

“You are lucky, young one,” Jarek uttered, “that no one else noticed the goings on between you and Comley, or of your disobedience to me.”

“I didn’t disobey you!” Cailan insisted.

“Neither you nor Comley had permission to address each other, but I clearly heard you speak to him,” Jarek debated.

Cailan had forgotten about that.  “I didn’t plan to talk to him, but he….”  He paused, feeling like his maser wouldn’t understand.

“He what, petling?” Jarek pressed, his hand resting warningly on Cailan’s leggings.

“He smirked at me,” Cailan mumbled.

“What was that?”

“He smirked at me!” the young man repeated.  “After you told me to pay attention, he gave me a derisive look!  If I was still in Arten he never would have gotten away with that.”

“Ah, I see.  Petling, if I had seen it, I would have reprimanded him too.  You both may be concubines, but you are a prince as well, and he is not.  It is not his place to disrespect you.”

Cailan tried to look over his shoulder at his owner.  “So you understand?”

“I do, but that doesn’t negate that you still disobeyed, and your lack of attention to the rest of the goings-on was disrespectful to those at the table.”

“I paid better attention after you reminded me,” Cailan defended.

“Good, because I’ll want your opinion on some things when we’re done here.”

“Done with…?”  He was cut off by a sharp smack on his bottom, making him jump.  He squirmed quite a bit as Jarek lavished fifteen or so heavy smacks to his backside.  His eyes burned and he was out of breath when his master’s hand stopped landing.  He didn’t think he’d ever get used to being physically reprimanded, but it definitely made him want to improve his behavior.  He sniffed when Jarek let him up and situated him on his knee.

“It is dealt with now, little prince,” Jarek consoled.  “Do you understand what is expected of you next time?”

Cailan nodded and received a mild pat of warning on his bottom, urging him to speak out loud.  “I need to pay attention when in the company of others, to you first and to them in case they address me, but I am not to speak unless spoken to with anyone but you.”

“Yes,” Jarek concurred.  “So you understand why you were punished this time?”

“Yes, my lord, but...I don’t much like Comley or the people from Berring,” he confessed.

“Your dislike of Comley I understand,” Jarek commiserated.  “Especially if he was trying to incite you.  I will take care to make sure he knows such misbehavior will not be tolerated.  But why do you think poorly of the rest from Berring?”

Cailan had subconsciously moved a hand back to rub at his behind, and Jarek let him so as not to dissuade the conversation.

“Their words are thick,” Cailan stated with disgust and another sniff.

Jarek’s expression turned curious.  “That is a phrase I’m not familiar with.  What do you mean ‘their words are thick’?”

“They’re…thick,” Cailan repeated and tried to find the words to explain what he meant.  “They speak heavy with flattery and deferential tones, but it does not seem sincere to me.  Plus, I think Comley’s hair is a sorcerer’s spell work, although why anyone would choose to appear silver-born makes no sense to me.”

Jarek’s face had gone grave.  “Wait a moment.  Are you saying that Comley’s hair color is not natural to him?”

“I don’t know,” Cailan replied.  “But it doesn’t look pure to me.”

“Why do you say that?  I did not think it was possible to alter the color of one’s hair.”  Jarek’s voice continued in its grimness, making Cailan carefully consider his words.

“It’s possible with a very expensive spell…or that’s the way it is in Arten.  I never personally knew anyone who had it done, but…well, I considered it at one point,” he admitted.  “I wanted to be any color but silver, except it wouldn’t have changed people’s knowledge of how I was born, and the sorcerer I spoke to told me that changing the color might take away the silver, but anything else would not look natural, which would still bring me attention I did not want.  Anyway, that’s how Comley’s hair seems to me, like it is not as he was born, but I could be mistaken.”

“Is there a way to be sure?” Jarek asked.

“I don’t know.  Perhaps one of your own sorcerer’s knows of such a spell.”

“Perhaps.  In any case, this needs to be brought to the king’s attention at once.”

Cailan was uneasy with the graveness of which his possessor was speaking.  “Why do you react this way?  What does it matter if Comley did not like his hair color and chose to change it?”

“It matters,” was all Jarek said, but his tone and expression were solemn.

Before he felt quite ready, Cailan was urged to his feet and being brought back to the other room and the presence of the king and royal family.  The way they entered seemed to immediately garner everyone’s attention, but instead of telling them of Cailan’s suspicions, Jarek said a phrase to the king that made no sense to the young prince.

“Study of padding and silence,” he said so only Alaric heard.

The king’s face went even grimmer than Jarek’s and he motioned to the rest of the family to follow him.  With a heavy silence laying on the group, the king led the way through several small rooms before they came to a tiny hallway only wide enough for one at a time.  Alaric stopped in the middle of the space, did something Cailan couldn’t see, but then made the young prince’s mouth drop open when one wall literally slid away.  With Jarek in front of him and Prince Sem behind, Cailan went with the family into the space the wall revealed and down several flights of stairs as the retracting wall moved back into place. 

Eventually they ended up in a room with walls padded thickly in cork and a strange layering that resembled the carpeting on the floor.  Within the room was a desk, a table big enough to seat ten, and an endless array of sealed scrolls. 

The family began to take seats at the table, but Jarek spoke seriously to Cailan before joining them. 

“You tell no one of this room, or of any words spoken in here.  Is that fully understood?”

Cailan, with the experience of a royal privy to secrets the commoners of Arten would never know, understood very well what Jarek was requiring of him.

“I understand, my lord.  On my honor as a prince, I will divulge nothing of this room or what is discussed.”

Jarek nodded and then settled them both into chairs at the table, once again surprising Cailan by not requiring him to sit at his feet.

“Alaric,” Jarek said seriously.  “Cailan has given me some information that you need to know.  I believe it is fundamental to any decisions that are made from this point on.”  He turned his attention to his concubine.  “Cailan, I want you to first tell the king what we spoke of this morning…about the question you wrote in your journaler.”

“About your hair color?” Cailan asked.

“Yes.”

Cailan looked to the king.  “I was just wondering if there was meaning to a Cylandrean’s hair color like there is in Arten.”

Alaric looked from Cailan to Jarek and then back to Cailan.  “You confuse me, prince.  There is meaning to the color of your hair in Arten?”

Cailan realized that while he had explained this to Jarek, the king had no knowledge of this piece of Artenian culture.  Briefly he explained to the family what each color meant…even silver, to his embarrassment.

“I see,” Alaric responded.  “Why do you wonder about meaning of our color here though?  All Cylandrean’s have black hair, so there is no versatility for different meanings.”

“I don’t mean your dominant color.  I was wondering about the subtle colors I see that are blended into the black,” Cailan explained.

“What other colors?” the king asked in confusion, and the rest of the family—save Jarek—looked baffled as well. 

Now Cailan was perplexed and growing nervous.  “All sorts of colors—red, blue, green.  And each of you who are in the royal family have a shimmer in your strands that seems unique to your family.”  He turned to Jarek.  “You said there is no meaning.  What’s going on?”

Jarek reached for his hand and squeezed Cailan’s fingers.  “I said I knew of no meaning because…my prince, none of us have ever seen a secondary color in our hair or any other Cylandrean’s.”

Cailan felt his heart start to pound.  “What?  How is that possible?  The colors are subtle, but they are clearly there,” he stressed.  “I’m not just seeing things.”

“No one says you are, Cailan,” Prince Sem said somberly from where he sat, his earlier joviality now replaced with the same serious look his brothers held.

“Then what is going on?  Why can’t you see what I see?”

The family shared a look, but it was the king who answered.  “We have a guess about that which I will explain as I can, but first I need to know if there is any other information to be shared.”

“There is,” Jarek confirmed.  “Tell him what you said to me of young Comley’s looks, Cailan.”

Feeling anxious, Cailan obeyed reluctantly.  “I just said that his hair color looked unnatural to me.”

“Unnatural?  Meaning what?” the king questioned.

Cailan was really not liking being the center of attention and apprehension brought him to silence instead of answering the king. 

“Prince Cailan,” Alaric spoke forcefully when the young man’s silence dragged on.  “I need to know what that means.”

“Al!” Jarek said sharply.  Alaric clenched his fists but kept quiet as Jarek made Cailan look at him and no one else.  “Petling, don’t fret.  You have important information to share.  I promise it’s nothing that will get you in trouble or cause strife between you and us.”

“Why is it so important?” Cailan whispered.  “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“I can see that, but I need you to trust me…trust us…with this information.  I will be able to explain some of the importance of it once you share with them what you told me.”

Cailan swallowed nervously, but addressed those gathered around the table.  “I don’t think Comley’s current hair color is natural because it does not suit him.  I’m guessing he purchased a spell to make it as it is.”

Princess Sana’s hand came up to cover her mouth in shock, and the rest at the table looked incredulous.

Queen Kesla seemed the first to recover slightly.  “Cailan, are you sure such a spell is possible?  You are not experienced in sorcery are you?”

“No, I’m not, but it’s possible,” Cailan affirmed.  “During a bad time when I was younger I considered purchasing such a spell,” he admitted.

The king looked at him seriously, but not unkindly.  “I must ask how you would even recognize if it was a spell since you are not a magic user yourself; and Cailan,” he continued, “I did observe during the meal some enmity occurring between you and Comley.  I need you to be honest with me.  Are you telling us any of this because you’re trying to prevent Jarek from accepting him?”

“Alaric!” Jarek spoke heatedly, but was stopped by a very hard look from his brother.

“It must be asked, Jarek.  It is clear he feels strongly for you, and that could be driving his words.”

Cailan felt his face heat over being so easily read, but the king wasn’t entirely correct.  “I don’t want Jarek to claim Comley,” he admitted, his flush getting hotter.  “But I am being truthful about how I perceive the man’s hair.  I was told when I was considering changing mine that spell-changed hair does not look entirely natural to the one who receives it, and that’s how Comley’s hair looks to me.”

The queen looked to her husband.  “Al, if Cailan’s right, how do we find out for sure?”

Sem stood resolutely.  “I believe that’s a job for me.  My king, with your permission, I’ll start comparing the information from the old texts and gathering trusted sorcerers.”

The king nodded to his younger brother.  “You have my full blessing, Sem, but be discreet and thorough,” he ordered.

“And fast,” Jarek commanded.  “We don’t have more than a day or two before Sir Maiki will start pushing much harder for a decision.”

Alaric looked pointedly at his brother.  “You’re right, but you need to remember what that means, Jarek.  The right choice may not be the one you want.”

           Cailan felt his heart drop to his stomach with a realization that for whatever reason Jarek was going to have to choose between him and Comley.  He looked almost fearfully to his owner.  “You told me you would explain what you could.  I need to know what’s going on, master.”