Tiiran glanced to the other assistants squeezed into the small space near the bookcase Xenia kept herding them back to whenever they got too close to the tools… or perhaps when they got too close to Xenia.
“She’s not an outguard,” Tiiran warned sharply, to remind them that while seeking out lovers was fine and acceptable, only regular visitors to the library understood the games the assistants played. Then, at last, when he had no other choice, he moved his gaze to Nikoly.
Nikoly had not put his shirt back on.
He was built much like the palace or family guards just as Tiiran had guessed he would be. His skin held the same warmth all over, with a splattering of moles over his ribs that Tiiran could have mapped with one splayed hand. As if those were not enough to accentuate his beauty, the ink markings around his collarbone were bare to the light and he hadjewelryto decorate the rest of him. Whether the steel or silver at his nipples were cuffs or piercings like those in his ears, Tiiran could not say without closer examination, but the spangle in Nikoly’s navel surely had to be pinned into place.
That would hurt, Tiiran could not help but think while looking at it, his tongue busy with the chip in his tooth and not discovering the taste of the bit of metal. It must have hurt, as the other piercings must have, as had the markings at his collar when they’d been done.
The markings might have been sketches of animal tracks, or perhaps stylized leaves. If they were leaves, they were on a larger scale than the markings on Nikoly’s fingers. If they were animal tracks, then Tiiran didn’t know enough about animals to know which one had left them. He would have assumed a dog or some form of wolf to match the marking on Nikoly’s nape, but that didn’t line up with the impressions left behind by the dogs of the nobles within the palace.
Tiiran struggled to lift his attention from them and could not quite meet Nikoly’s eyes when he finally did. Then he realized he had no memory of whatever he’d intended to say, or even what Nikoly had last said to him.
“Thank you again, Nikoly,” he murmured again to be safe, though also because he meant it. “This is very helpful.”
“My pleasure,” Nikoly answered, voice at first high, then lower, “my honor.”
Tiiran had to pause to breathe. “That seems like a lot. Unless it’s how you say things where you’re from. In which case, I’m being rude. I’m often rude.” He ignored Niksa’s snorted laugh. “But this is a kind gesture, Nikoly. I mean that. I’m just not used to… help.” A terrible feeling filled his chest after making that pronouncement. “I didn’t know how to receive your offer.” The feeling did not get much better at that, although he could imagine Orin’s approval at the admission, especially when his shoulders stayed where they were. “But ask first next time. Me, or Mattin at least.”
Nikoly bowed his head, some of his hair falling forward.
Then Xenia said, “Ly, you going to hold this for me or what?” and Nikoly turned smoothly toward her and returned to his work.
Tiiran attempted to do the same.
The other assistants were getting no work done, but since Tiiran’s current copy work was unofficial, he held in his remarks and limited himself to glancing over only occasionally, like when Nikoly or Xenia climbed the ladder by the bookcase—which seemed a perilous undertaking and they should both take more care—or when Amie took advantage of a moment’s peace to ask Nikoly about his markings.
Tiiran was vaguely surprised the others had restrained themselves as long as they had. Then he looked up and saw they were not restraining themselves even a little. Amie was skimming her fingertips over Nikoly’s chest while the others edged forward as if ready to do the same.
Tiiran curled his lip. “If you are all going to spend the day up here, I am sure there is work you could be doing while you ogle.”
Xenia cackled. Tiiran glanced to her, then to the others, staring them down when he thought they might challenge his true and valid statement. When even Niksa was quiet, Tiiran risked a glance to the shameless sunflower displaying himself for them all.
The shameless sunflower was watching Tiiran, wide-eyed and breathing harder.
“You also have work to do, yes?” Tiiran asked crisply. “You can answer questions while doing that—over there.” He pointed to a spot farther away from the other assistants. He had to do something; Nikoly stood there facing Tiiran without any attempt at a smile. But he moved after several moments of returning Tiiran’s flustered stare, stepping away from the others and turning to Xenia when she whispered to him.
He really was quite good about listening to Tiiran, a few moments of teasing aside. Tiiran licked his lips, about to tell Nikoly so until he abruptly became aware of the silence around him and ducked back over his work.
“Because you asked,” Nikoly began, barely louder than the sound of Xenia filing the edge of a cut piece of wood. “I was born near the ruins of a series of buildings, an abandoned construction of the fae, or so we believe.” He spoke as if telling a story to no one and everyone. Tiiran peeked up and saw him assisting Xenia once again, his marvelous back to them, but his voice was raised for all to hear. “Or perhaps from the time before the Earls. The walls have traces of artwork on them, and it’s their drawings and carvings that our artisans often try to pay tribute to. I wear bear-paw ivy below my throat and along my fingers, but it was done as the same plant is depicted on those ruins.” He glanced over his shoulders, meeting Tiiran’s eyes before Tiiran thought to look away. “The plant is good to eat or to turn into fibers, practical as well as beautiful.”
“Where is that?” Xenia asked, giving Tiiran a jolt because he’d forgotten her. “Where you’re from? Somewhere cold from how you complain about the heat here.”
“The far northern edge of Rossick territory.” The answer gave Tiiran another shock.
The Rossick were a noble family, though one older than any beat-of-fours and with no interest in adding to their family’s already fierce reputation by bothering with the throne. They stayed out of royal business for the most part, and other families were rarely so foolish as to cross them. They also did not stray much from their territory. They were rumored to keep to old traditions, though of course no rumors said what those traditions were.
“The Rossick?” Niksa wondered. “I’d never have guessed. You don’t have much of an accent from anywhere but the capital.”
Nikoly shrugged. The dog or wolf at the back of his neck moved with the gesture. “I was taught by someone who once lived in the capital. It’s one of the reasons why I wanted to come here.”
“And all have those markings there?” Tiiran heard himself asking, cheeks stinging when Nikoly spared him another glance. “Did it hurt?”
“It’s like receiving many, many stings.” Nikoly turned to better give Tiiran another peek at the ivy around his collarbone. “Until you’re hot all over, and your thoughts seem to bloom, and your blood pounds. Would you like to know their meanings?”
Tiiran’s voice rose. “They have meanings?”
“Bear-paw ivy,” Nikoly informed him without looking away, “because I like to be of use.”
