“Shall we resume in an hour’s time?” Ivar asked no one in particular.
The elder Drakken rose and congregated at the far end of the table. The hiss-click of their Drakken language grated on Brandt’s nerves, and he nudged Manning to leave the room.
They meandered down the hall, not speaking until they’d gained some distance from the others. They walked until they reached one of the castle’s rotundas, the niched walls filled with ancestral busts and artifacts, and there Brandt dragged Manning to sit with him on a padded bench.
Manning peered around the circular area. “Would you believe I’ve no clue what’s in here?”
Brandt snorted. “Truly? You don’t remember your tutors brought you here?”
Manning squinted at him. “How would you know that?”
“This was one of my first assignments as a new recruit. You were adorable, and I thought shy with the way you always hid from everyone.” Brandt put his arm around Manning’s waist. “Now I know better. They treated you horribly.”
Manning scoffed. He gazed fondly at Brandt. “Life got better after you found me.”
Brandt’s lips twisted into a wry grin. “For me, too. Before your disappearance, I’d just been a lowly recruit and given all the shit posts, then all of a sudden, I had the respect of my fellow soldiers.”
“But you were a Councilman’s son. You should’ve already had their respect.”
“Not yet.” Brandt nuzzled Manning’s hair, inhaling the mingled scent of their joining that stubbornly clung to his husband’s skin, much to his delight. “He wasn’t elected until right around your eighteenth birth-cycle.”
“Mm, I’d forgotten that.” Manning patted Brandt’s thigh. “So… any chance you can show me around?”
“It would be my honor, my Vidar.” Brandt tugged Manning to his feet. As they headed toward the first of many busts, his gaze was drawn to a painting he’d never seen before. He led Manning across the room to stand in front of the dark, depressing image taken straight out of the Drakken history book their sobroke had shown them when Manning’s ship,Moondrake, had been overtaken by Kayluth’s Drakkenship,Reykr.
Manning hissed, “Where did this come from? Who put this here?”
“I don’t know.” They stared at the painting, taking in the tiny details and expanded view of the four Drakken Kings fighting their way to freedom. All around them lay death and destruction, the mutilated corpses of Fenrir and Drakken, but tucked into the corners of the painting were the more disturbing images of Fenrir whipping Drakken as they toiled hunched over in servitude. Of Fenrir holding Drakken against walls or floors. Of Fenrir fucking collared Drakken. Of Fenrir laughing as they watched.
“I did.”
Brandt froze as Manning’s grip on his hand tightened painfully.
How did he get out? Who let him out?
Slowly they turned to face Manning’s father, the deposed King of Volé.
Dagr.
Chapter Six
Kayluth
Kayluth approached Tyr with caution. The young Drakken still had much to learn where decorum mattered, but among family—such as they all were within the conference room—he could cry and rage, and they would all understand.
He touched Tyr’s arm. “>”
Tyr gazed between Bjorn and Kayluth. “>”
“>” Kayluth gestured toward the door and pursed his lips. Tyr sighed, started to refuse, but then nodded and allowed Kayluth to guide him from the room.
In the hallway, Kayluth stopped and glanced along the busy hallways. Guards were already gathering to hear their new assignments. “>” With Tyr’s agreement, they headed for the outer gardens where Kayluth often enjoyed strolling with his mates and children.
The Volé and Drakken guards watched them as they approached, bowing slightly as they passed. As they walked through the doors, two of the Royal Guards trailed them at a discrete distance. On a normal day, Kayluth would have waved them off or chosen Drakken soldiers, but as he needed their conversation to remain confidential, he let the human guards follow as he’d converse in Drakken anyway.
“>”
“>” Tyr grimaced. “>”
