He glanced over, met the eyes of the fae bard across the distance, scowled, and looked down.
At a plate of fried potatoes and a small cup of cider.
Nikoly took a seat next to him, holding two heavy cups, probably full of ale. Tiiran had a question about how he’d carried thatandTiiran’s food and drink, but didn’t have to ask because Orin took a seat near Tiiran—a seat that had been occupied by Niksa—after giving Niksa a look that had him blushing and scampering away, and then Orin was next to Nikoly and accepting his ale with a grateful nod.
“Too many ducklings,” Tiiran muttered darkly after Niksa, although, in Niksa’s place, he likely would have blushed and obeyed as well.
Orin must have heard him despite all the noise; he gave Tiiran a sterner look that did, in fact, make Tiiran’s cheeks burn. But Tiiran ignored any urges to scamper and focused on his potatoes and his suddenly growling stomach.
Orin and Nikoly would step in and make him stop before his stomach was full, then make him wait to keep eating. Tiiran drank some cider to help keep his coughs down and to keep his thoughts aboutthatto himself.
It had been two days. He was fine, just frequently tired.
Perhaps he was fine mostly because of the flare of heat in his chest whenever they fussed, which was possibly why he allowed all the fussing—and it did please Nikoly to do it. Then Orin’s approval would wash over them, and Tiiran was convinced Nikoly felt it too and liked it as much as Tiiran did, which then pleased them both in turn.
Everyone liked to feel loved, Tiiran suspected, even though Nikoly’s way to feel it might confuse some.
The potatoes were brushed with butter and herbs, crispy on the edges and soft inside. Tiiran paused in shoveling potatoes into his mouth to push the plate toward the other two.
“Good,” he explained shortly, drawing a smile from Orin—who also accepted the potatoes, because Orin needed far more food than Tiiran did. In truth, Orin should be back within the palace, resting and enjoying a full meal. He had been run ragged with duties for the king and the Outguard, as well as his self-appointed duties for Tiiran. According to Orin, those duties including escorting Tiiran and Nikoly to this tavern to have a good time with the library assistants, and there had been no telling him to stay back.
Tiiran was glad Orin was with them, so he hadn’t insisted with too much force. Orin had smiled knowingly at him, so he must suspect that. Tiiran was too tired to jump on Orin’s lap, but he really, really wanted to.
“I can get you more, or something else,” Nikoly offered quietly, watching Orin eat. His small wound, stitched and cleaned, was on the other side of his face. Small enough that he insisted he wasn’t in need of time to recover as Tiiran was. “I’m sure Tiiran will…”
“Tiiran will,” Tiiran agreed although he had no idea what Nikoly had been about to say.
“…Not mind, and be hungry again soon,” Nikoly finished, trying to be stern. “You need to have more, bee.”
Tiiran ignored the fussing for now. “Why would I mind?” He forcefully cleared his throat so he wouldn’t cough. He looked over, found them both exchanging a glance, and scowled. “I keep telling you I don’t.”
Orin at least didn’t pretend not to understand. “You just growled at Niksa.”
Orin was tired. It seemed he wasquitea close and trusted friend of the new king, and since Arden was recovering from the injuries that had taken his life—before the fae had restored it, because of fucking course they’d step in to save a Canamorra—Orin was one of the outguards tasked with rooting out any remaining supporters of Piya or any other noble who might choose this time to try for the throne.
And still, he’d come out with them. Almost certainly to keep an eye on Tiiran. But, just possibly, to also keep an eye on Nikoly.
“Wild boy,”Orin had called Nikoly last night.Wild-heartonce as well. He’d also said again that Nikoly would need a firm hand. Tiiran thought Orin was too used to talking around things for the sake of others, or maybe to being dismissed as an odd duck by many of his friends, and didn’t realize what he was actually saying.
He kept repeating he was waiting for Tiiran to name his feelings. Tiiran had. Orin had decided not to believe him for some reason. Fae-blessed the rosesmayhave been, but Tiiran had known what he was saying. They kept doing that, the two of them. Not believing Tiiran or telling him to wait until he was less tired, or hadn’t just had his backside smacked, or hadn’t been held captive, or wasn’t sick.
He understood it, to a degree. Tiiran had taken a long time to admit that Orin had been slowly wooing him, and that Nikoly had been doing the same, albeit much less slowly. It was very likely that without Orin, Tiiran would never have recognized Nikoly’s interest.
Tiiran would have called himself a donkey, but it wasn’t his fault he’d never been taught what love felt like. He hadn’t grown up with it, the way most nobles didn’t know how things worked outside of the palace because they hadn’t been taught how to use their brains.
Tiiran knew it now. That was what important.
“Nikoly is not some random duckling,” Tiiran returned after another sip to smooth the rasp from his voice. “You like Nikoly, Orin. As I like Nikoly.” Well, no, perhaps not as Tiiran did. Not yet, at least. Tiiran cut a glance to both of them. “As Nikoly likes you.”
Tiiran turned from both of them and pushed out a breath. No one believed someone who had been held alone in a dark room and starved for several days could possibly know their own mind. Tiiran had known all this before then, yet they still would not listen.
“I liked the idea,” he admitted while watching Amie and Po work in tandem to charm a server, and Niksa help himself to some bread with butter then pause to offer some to someone at another table because Niksa was a generous sour apple. “I saidbothbefore and I meant both. I meant us all together, but when I was in the dark, I imagined you two, just you two together, and I liked that too. That you’d have each other. Nikoly needs to care for people and you need someone to be soft with you, Orin, although I didn’t see it because I’m not good at such things. And Nikoly… needs your firm hand, doesn’t he? I could never do as you do, not as well. So I liked it.”
Mattin was writing as he listened. Writing what, Tiiran didn’t know. Perhaps the song lyrics. The burly fellow who had been trying to talk to him finally got up and moved on. The bard grinned at that, showing pointy, pointy teeth.
Tiiran looked back at the table, then at his lovers. “I feel loved by each of you, but I feel it most when we are together.”
“Tiiran.” Orin pulled in a deep breath. “I am glad you feel it. But,” he took another moment, “youareloved.”
