"No, never," Bakhtiar said fiercely. "Remain here, by your pleasure. I trust my guards outside, but I trust you more, and without Kurosh I will be safer for having you here. Stand, please."
"Your Highness," Reza replied, rising to his feet and spreading his arms. "I'm not terribly useful right now, but I'll do my best should a threat arise."
Farrokh seemed faintly amused as he kissed Bakhtiar softly before pulling away and drifting over to his vanity to fetch a brush and set to work on his hair. "Every guard in the palace is spoiling for a fight, and every servant is searching for the traitors in their midst like hens seeking the snake in their roost. Only a suicidal fool would dare to attempt something right now—and that is not including Kurosh, who has already killed five people now, and his blade is still thirsty."
"Very thirsty," Kurosh said as he slipped out from behind a tapestry. He nodded to Reza, who gave a slight bow back. "It will drink more blood tonight."
"You're not meant to be a killer anymore," Bakhtiar said quietly. "I swore you would no longer have to do that."
"I knew what I was getting into, loving the crown prince." Kurosh padded across that room in that effortlessly soundless way of his, crawled into the space just vacated by Farrokh, and kissed him. "How are you feeling?"
"Not as bad as before, but not great. I think I'll probably fall asleep again soon."
Kurosh pressed their foreheads together, his warm, sandalwood and honey scent familiar and comforting. "You scared me, you stupid brat. Especially when you acted like we'd all be happier with you dead."
Is that the thing he'd said that his mother and Farrokh had mentioned before? "I don't remember much of anything."
"Probably for the best." Kurosh kissed him again. "Get some rest."
Bakhtiar sighed, because he was already sick of sleeping all the time and sensed there was still a great deal more of it in his future, but settled down without protest because his eyes were already growing heavy again.
*~*~*
The next time he woke, he was feeling strong enough to get up, though only barely. Enough to tend to certain matters himself, get clean, and into fresh clothes. When that was finally done, he insisted on sitting at his table for a bit, beyond fed up with being stuck in bed.
He stared around his room at the piles upon piles of flowers, prayer tokens, and other typical get well gifts. "Where is Reza? Where in the world did all this come from?"
Farrokh huffed in amusement. "Reza went to get some sleep, he is impressively, adorably stubborn about leaving your side, even when Kurosh is here. As to the gifts, you must be joking, Bakhti. The palace staff of course, and many soldiers. When I say everyone has been worried about you, I do meaneveryone. Your poor personal staff is harassed with questions a hundred times a day, and the 'drunks' hired to distract the guards were soused out by the staff and handed over to the guards a little worse for wear."
Bakhtiar didn't know what to say to any of that, so he focused on the teapot in front of him—and immediately got his hand knocked away by Kurosh as he sat to join him, laying one of his long, slim daggers on the table and picking up the teapot instead. "You are a long way from healed, my prince. You are fortunate there was no internal bleeding." He poured the tea and then offered up the cup.
Dutifully drinking until the cup was empty, Bakhtiar then said, "Have you run out of people to kill yet?"
"No, and I'll have more heads soon. Nearly finished, though. After I'm done nobody will dare to so much as clip your shoulder in the hallway."
"I don't think they did that anyway," Bakhtiar replied. "You know, I still don't knowwhyKashi did this, why he resented me so much."
"Because much like the rest of the palace, my prince, he is smitten with you. Or was. When you did not notice him as he wanted you to, he grew resentful," Kurosh said. "Though I think he also had some half-baked plan that you would ask him where the missing items were and he would give some stupid explanation and then go miraculously 'find' the item and you'd beeverso grateful."
Bakhtiar stared, went through the words again in his mind, and then a third time. "I'm sorry, I must have misheard you. Did you say Kashi wassmittenwith me?"
"Yes, my prince, that is what we said," Farrokh said, giving him a look of fond, tolerant amusement. "You cannot possibly find that shocking."
"Yes, I find it shocking!"
"Bakhti,why. You know the name of every single staff person in the palace, something even your parents can't say. Not only that, you care about their lives, you help them."
Bakhtiar scoffed. "Being polite is nothing special."
Kurosh sighed. "I told you he wouldn't believe us. Even though it's true that half this palace would love it if you made their dreams of romance and filthy seduction come true.Includinga certain overprotective guard, hmm? He's pretty, loyal, smart. I think he'd fit right in."
"What are you talking—" Bakhtiar stopped, face going hot. "You cannot possibly mean Reza."
"Bakhti, you've been flirting with him since practically the day he took over the post, and he absolutely flirts back. He has nearly called you 'my prince' at least ten times that I have counted, and I'm not always there."
"He's my guard," Bakhtiar protested weakly, but really he just felt foolish for never realizing that hehadbeen flirting this whole time.
Kurosh smirked. "He's ready to be whatever you need, including—"
