Playing with Fire

Copyright © 2004 by Sean Michael

All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever
without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For
information address Torquere Press, PO Box 4351, Grand Junction, CO 81502.

ISBN: 0-9762384-3-8

Printed in the United States of America.

Torquere Press electronic edition / January 2005

Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, PO Box 4351, Grand Junction, CO 81502.

http://www.torquerepress.com

Chapter One

The hands dressing him were careful, only the most perfect of his pets allowed so close. The fiery silks
were carefully draped against his skin -- the deepest reds closest to him, the colors slowly growing lighter
in weight and shade.

One soft hand was in his hair, carefully arranging the ebony curls into the illusion of effortless muss,
another rubbed a lotion containing crushed pearls into his fingers and wrists. Fire rubies were added to
his throat, ears, carefully hung in his hair.

Honestly, the trials and tribulations of having to entertain were quite exhausting. Still, it was time that
lordlings that he allowed to live on his lands paid him tribute and for that, he would appear in the salle
and... mingle.

"Lord Zujan?" His current favorite, a sweet boy with a quick mind and an eager mouth, appeared,
dressed in a short, white tunic, legs bare for his touch, his brand just visible on the soft inner thigh.

"Yes, Rall?" He sent a single firefaery over to flit about, just tease Rall with its heat.

"The ballrooms are prepared, as you've requested. The tables are laid. Shall I have the harem prepared
and presented?"

He tilted his head, considering. "Have the harem decorated and bound and mounted on the walls as art
in the dining room."

There were the handiest crystalline phalluses mounted randomly, jewel-studded chains above to stretch
the lovely bodies out. One must impress the gentry, after all.

"All of them, Lord Zujan?" Rall asked softly.

"You will serve me, Pet. And have a few scattered about as side tables, benches." With a click of his
fingers, the firefaery dissipated, energy flowing back into him.

Rall's eyes showed both disappointment and relief as the firefaery disappeared, his pet nodded though.
"I will take care of everything, my Lord."

"Excellent." He met the soft green eyes with his own. "Do not disappoint me, Pet."

Fear flashed through Rall's eyes, but his Pet boldly promised that he would not be disappointed.

"Is there anything else, my Lord?"

"Mmm... have the kitchen send up something sweet, something to sate my hunger."

"The kitchen, my lord? Or the harem?"

He chuckled. "Cheeky. The kitchen. I will feed my other hungers from you."

Rall bowed to him, eyes alight. "Yes, sir."

Another bow and his pet left to do his bidding.

Such a good boy. It would be a shame to lose him back into his father's arms.

His other pets continued to fuss over him, pressing close, adoring him. He allowed it for a few moments,
allowed the touches and soft kisses, the need and want pouring over him, warming him. Soon enough the
snack was brought by a sweet little thing and he dismissed them all, allowing himself the luxury of
solitude.

There wouldn't be much solitude once he began to welcome his guests, each one would demand his time
and attention. There would be gifts and simpering and fawning and as he'd invited them, he'd have to
keep from frying too many of them.

A few here and there served as a lovely reminder. Too many and one got a bad reputation.

The firefaeries began to appear -- violet and blue, ruby and orange, dancing together, drawn to him,
their laughter silent, their heat fierce as they stole bits and bites of pastry, tiny feet leaving smoldering
marks on the dough.

"My lovely ones." Zujan laughed with them, entranced, overjoyed as he always was at their flame, their
beauty.

The door opened, sending the firefaeries scattering.

Rall came to him. "My lord, your guests are arriving."

He sighed dramatically and stood, looking up into Rall's eyes. "Am I beautiful, Pet? Will I stun all I see?"

"Yes, my Lord. There has never been anyone as beautiful as you."

"Excellent answer, Pet." He nodded toward the door. "Come, let us make an entrance and I will
fascinate the commoners."

"You would fascinate them no matter how you entered, my Lord." Rall held out his arm.

He slid his hand over Rall's skin, sending a frisson of heat into his Pet. "Of course I would."

"Yes, my Lord." He got a smile from Rall and then they were through the door and he was being
announced, Rall standing proudly next to him.

The palace was beautifully decorated, his harem well-bound and mounted upon the blood-red
silk-covered walls, the chandeliers all lit, flames everywhere.

Perfectly lovely.

The low chatter stopped, dozens upon dozens of eyes staring at him. "Good evening. Welcome to my
home."

There was silence for a very long moment and then someone, a Duke from just west of his demesne,
bowed low. "Thank you, Lord Zujan."

He dipped his head, moving gracefully down the long staircase and along the hallway to take his seat in
the well-padded chair at the head of the hall. It rested on a pedestal, allowing him to meet every man's
eyes.

Rall sat at his feet, his pet obedient and sweet.

The guests milled around, some of them looking with open amazement at the live decorations, others
looking upon them in revulsion or horror. One by one, in no apparent order, they came to pay their
respects. The smart ones offered gifts in an attempt to curry his favour.

His fingers tangled in Rall's hair as he listened to the bevy of idiots drone on and on. Would the torture
never end?

King Blethin was announced. *King* Blethin. The man had a nerve. He was an older man, with a round
wife and a princeling in tow.

A young, strapping princeling who was entirely not his type. Tall. Muscled. Golden skin. Long hair the
colour of wheat with shots of flame.

And eyes like a midnight sky.

Luscious. He needed another princeling. Honestly.

He purred, the sound familiar enough to make Rall tense.

"My Lord," murmured the king, bowing. His wife curtseyed, but the prince just stood there, watching
him, defiant, head held high.

"We have brought you the finest furs of our lands as a very small token of our friendship." A cloak was
handed to him, black and soft, warm. "The rest of the furs were left with your staff."

The fur was lovely, and he nodded happily. "You are a generous man. How kind of you to attend."

And to bring your prince to me.

"We are neighbors, my Lord. It was an honor to be invited." The king all but tripped over his own
tongue to lick Zujan's boots. The prince however stood behind his father, still straight and proud, those
blue eyes almost looking through him.

This was a pound one. A strong one.

"And will your companion introduce himself?" Come, lovely one. Speak to me.

"This is my son, Wintras." The king made a hand gesture to his son, head jerking. "Bow to his Lordship,"
the man hissed.

Wintras stood for a long time and then gave him a half bow, eyes never leaving his.

He heard the shock ripple through his audience as one of his eyebrows arched and he tilted his head.
"Wintras."

"That's what my father said."

Blethin's gasp was audible, the man going red at his son's words.

"Attractive and observant. How very lucky you are, Blethin." His voice was cool, clipped. "Perhaps he is
simply overtaken by my beauty."

"Maybe I just don't like having to give up our best furs to you on top of everything else you've stolen."

The room went silent and he hid his smile as he stood, firefaeries appearing upon command. Poor stupid

little fool. "You misspeak, boy. All I have is mine to take."

The prince stood his ground, cocky and confident, arrogant. "I stand by my words."

"Indeed?"

An older man, an Earl hurried over. "Please, your majesty, my lord. The boy is young..."

"I am the Prince of the Western Lands. When I take my father's place I will end your terror of my
people."

Zujan held out one hand, a flame appearing, the air in the ballroom going cold. "You have not yet learned
terror, young one."

Heavens and skies, he was having fun.

"You think a few party tricks are going to teach me terror?" Those amazing blue eyes were steady,
watching him, challenging him.

"No." He turned to the Queen, smiling into her tear-filled eyes. "I will offer you the choice, Lady. Give
your son to me or I will roast him where he stands."

She fell to her knees, her husband joining her. "Please, your lordship, please spare his life!"

"Get up," growled the boy. "Stop debasing yourselves."

"Excellent." He snapped his fingers, his guards appearing immediately. "Take the Prince down to the
dungeons and get him well-settled."

"You can't just take me prisoner!"

"Of course, not. Your family just offered you to me, in front of all my company." He waved his hand idly.
"Take him away."

"You intimidated them!" The Prince didn't fight his captors, glaring at him instead.

Blethin had joined his wife in mewling. They? Were getting boring.

He allowed the firefaeries to exercise their own will, watching as they moved in, swirling and heating.
The play continued until attacked by worried nobles, at which point they attacked, stroking with their
burning touch. He sat, enjoying the chaos, fingers returning to Rall's hair. "Are you enjoying yourself,
Pet?"

"Y...yes, my Lord."

"Excellent. I am as well."

"Stop this! You are a madman!" Wintras shouted at him from across the room as the guards dragged
him away. "Rush him! There are many of you and only one of him! He's insane!"

"They're so entertaining those first few days, don't you agree?" He smiled coldly at the king and his wife.
"It is by his own lack of self-control that he goes. He will not be permanently harmed -- assuming he
learns, of course."

"Thank you for sparing him, your majesty," whimpered the queen.

"You are merciful," added the king, jeweled fingers shaking.

He nodded, in total agreement. Indeed. Most merciful.

Amused and merciful.

And the owner of some lovely furs.

***

Wintras shivered and glared balefully at the walls. He hadn't thought Lord Zujan had actually meant a
dungeon when he'd said dungeon. But it was a dark, cold, damp, smelly, underground stone prison. A
dungeon.

And they'd taken his furs, his finery, leaving him quite naked. Normally this wouldn't be a problem -- he
far preferred his own flesh to the trappings of court clothes, but it was cold and damp. And smelly and
dark.

He'd been abandoned down here. No doubt left to die.

An older man came to offer him a cup of water and a bowl of gruel, sliding them into the cell without a
word.

He went to the bars. "Help me."

The man gave him a sympathetic look. "You made a foolish mistake at the feast, laddie."

"Someone needed to stand up to him. If more people did he wouldn't be running amok over everyone
and everything." He shivered as a draft slid over his bare skin. "Please. Help me escape, I shall not forget
it."

"There is no escape. Have hope, learn to control your temper and the lord will return you to your family
in time. He is... mercurial, but often keeps his word."

"I will never submit to him -- never!" He pushed the food back out, spilling it onto the stone floor.

"They all say that, in the beginning, lad." The old man shook his head, retrieving the dishes and speaking
to the ever-present guards. "No food or water for this one for a full day."

"Don't bother bringing any tomorrow either -- I will not take his food and the water is likely drugged."
He held his head high. He would die before he bowed to that monster.

"As you wish, Pet." The low voice was rich with amusement and wicked pleasure, the mage himself
standing quietly in the shadows. "He will have no sustenance lest it comes from my lips."

He couldn't stop the shiver that went through him, though he told himself it was from the cold. "Then you
break your word and will kill me despite what you have said to my parents."

"Oh, the will to live burns within you, Pet, brighter even than your pride."

"You don't know me." He would escape. He would get away. He would not submit to this monster who
ruled by fear.

"Ah, but I know you as well as you know me, Pet, and I will know you inside and out. Have faith." The
black ringlets shone in the firelight, the small body seeming larger in the shadows.

He stood his ground, though his instinct was to shrink into the back of his cell and let the cold stone steal
the sudden heat from his body. "I have faith in myself, Zujan."

"Excellent. I have faith in you, also." The dark eyes sparkled. "How lovely that we're in sync so quickly.

It bodes well."

"You try to turn even my own words against me, but I will not rise to your bait." In sync. As if the
firemage knew anything about him.

"No? Rall, Pet? Would you rise to my bait?" The near naked boy that attended the mage stepped
around, kneeling before the man and nuzzling, buttocks clearly visible, exposed in the short tunic.

He spat through the bars. "Pig."

"Now, now. Rall is most lovely and not a pig at all." One hand stroked through the boy's hair, petting.

"I meant you. Keeping humans as pets. It's an abomination." Damn the man, nothing seemed to affect
him.

"I assure you, Rall is well-cared for, most devoted. Do I hold you against your will, Pet?"

"No, my lord. I live to serve you."

Wintras snorted. "You mean you live because you serve."

Rall didn't even turn at his words, the boy continuing to nuzzle Zujan's crotch.

Zujan shook his head, eyes sure. "Rall's father offered his son willing, Rall is not a prisoner here."

"Willingly. Like my father offered me?"

"There was precious little hesitation on your parents' part, Pet."

Was Zujan really serious? Was that how he saw things? All twisted up like that? "You told them you
would kill me if they didn't agree -- you were already burning up half your *guests*."

"The situation would never have occurred, had you kept your tongue."

"I did not express any desire to speak to you, Zujan. You were the one who insisted on an introduction."
The mage would not put this on him. True enough, he would not kowtow when asked to do so, but it
was Zujan who had prompted the communication.

One eyebrow raised. "And you haven't the self-control to answer politely."

"You do not deserve any civility." He stood proudly. He could be as calm and unruffled as Zujan.

"And what complaint had you with me ere you entered my hall?"

"You rule by fear. You take whatever you want. It isn't right."

"I take what I can and I have you, right or wrong." Zujan chuckled, freed the hard shaft, slowly feeding it
into Rall's mouth.

Wintras turned and went to the back of his cell, refusing to be taunted further. Bright lights began to
hover about him, tiny sparks with curious eyes. Even in the depths of his cell he had no privacy! It was
outrageous.

He batted at them. They moved faster, coming closer. He backed into the wall, hissing as the cold stone
hit his skin. The colors were dizzying, the flashes flitting about him, exploring, looking.

He glared at them, keeping himself pressed back against the wall, but refusing to beg to have them
removed, refusing to even ask for it. As he stayed still, the motions eased, the lights slowing, allowing him
some space. He watched the sparks warily, trying to figure out how to escape them, how to destroy
them. Perhaps he should have kept his water, that would have taken care of them.

A low hum filled the air and his eyes shot over to the mage and the man who pleasured the thin body.
The cry of pleasure had not come from the mage, instead from the kneeling slave. He was surprised, sure
that the boy only pretended to be there of his own will, to do the things he did from want and need.
Nonetheless, a well-gilt cage was still a cage. Still, the boy's hips were moving, head bobbing faster,
muffled cries coming more and more often.

He couldn't stop watching, much as he wanted to feign disinterest. It was... fascinating, the way the
mage's body moved, glowed. Zujan's eyes were on his, lips parted, fingers almost gentle in the slave's
hair.

He could feel his own body begin to respond to the vision. Before he could betray himself, he turned his
back, pressing himself against the wall, chilling himself through. A soft, knowing chuckle teased him,
ending in a low purr.

He shuddered, his weakness known, seen. It wasn't fair, he was fighting at a large disadvantage. Still,
that didn't mean he needed to roll over. He turned and went back to the bars that held him in. "You will
not defeat me so easily, Zujan."

"I do not wish to defeat you, child." Those dark eyes laughed. "I wish to enjoy you."

"To do so you will have to defeat me. I will not willingly kneel before you."

"We shall see." Those dark eyes danced down toward Rall. "Come, Pet. The hour grows late and the
comfort of my bed and its new furs calls."

"Spoils of blackmail. They would have given you nothing if they did not fear you." The talk of his
country's furs made him shiver anew in the cold dampness of his prison.

His words fell unnoted onto the stone, the mage and his slave simply disappearing into the shadows,
leaving him with the slowly fading sparks of light.

He wrapped his arms around himself, crouching in a corner that seemed less draughty. He didn't know
what do to, how to escape this place, and his belly was empty, his throat parched and he was cold, so
cold.

He blinked back tears that threatened. It mattered not that he was alone and no one would know. He
must stay strong if he was going to make good his escape.

***

The night was spent in glorious perversions, Rall spread and sobbing, shifting and begging for him. They
spent the morning abed, the mists and the clouds leaving the stone rooms clammy and chill, Rall keeping
the bedstead warm. Finally, after they lunched in bed he rose and dressed, Zujan wandering idly down to
the dungeon, checking on his new Pet.

He didn't bother speaking to the guard, simply snapped his fingers and had a comfortable, padded chair
delivered immediately so that he might relax. Breaking prisoners was dreadfully tiring work. Then he had
a pitcher of iced water and a sliced pear placed beside him on a tiny table.

"Did you have a restful night, Pet?"

Wintras jerked out of his doze, the lovely body uncurling as the Prince stood. Such pretty muscles.

He was glared at, but Wintras made no sound aside from the occasional chatter of his teeth. He poured
a glass of water, drinking it slowly. "I stayed abed until late, resting with my sweet Rall. The weather is
hopelessly chill in the autumn, don't you agree?"

A shiver passed through Wintras and he was sure there would be goosebumps aplenty to see if he were
closer.

"Yes, fortunately the rooms above have hearths, soft bedding, soups to warm the stomach." Stubborn
pet. Wintras bit his lip, the only sign of weakness aside from the soft shivers that his pet could not control.
As he watched though, Wintras' eyes would return again and again to the food and water before being
torn away. "Simply say the word and your thirst will be eased."

"At what cost?" asked Wintras, voice hoarse.

"I ask nothing but your request." But your obedience.

The dark blue eyes looked at him and he could see need war with fear and stubbornness. He could tell
the moment Wintras steeled his resolve, the stiff body growing stiffer, chin lifting proudly. "I will ask
nothing of you but my freedom."

"Your freedom is bound to your obedience, Wintras."

"Obedience is merely another prison."

He arched an eyebrow. "There are some that say that obedience is the only true path to freedom."

Wintras snorted. "Words to make their obedience less of a betrayal."

Oh, did he enjoy playing with this one. "A betrayal of what, dear boy?"

"Of self." A draught moved through the dungeon, his pet shivering violently.

"And what you are doing now? Is it not a betrayal of your own need?" He allowed a frisson of heat to
warm the air, allowing the boy to remember those pleasures.

"Yes. One I cannot control and yes, I tell myself that to make myself feel better."

"I do not wish you harm, Pet. Simply obedience, respect, things a prince needs to know."

Wintras drew himself tall and still and proud once more. "I know those things, Zujan. And to those who
have earned and deserve them, I offer them freely."

"Yet, I have earned all my rewards, have I not? I rule. I provide." The effort of warming the room chilled
him and he called for a fur to warm himself.

"You steal and threaten and blackmail the lands that surround yours and every year your lands grow
larger as you absorb more. How is that earned? You are a tyrant."

"I take what is in my power to take. You are a prince, child, and one hopes that one day you will rule.
Until then, you know not of what you speak." Impertinent child!

Wintras' eyes widened and he turned his head to look in the other direction. The long hair slid over
Wintras' shoulder, partly obscuring the handsome face. Ah. A crack in that armor. "I am sure your father
has taught you of what a ruler must do."

The prince's fingers curled into fists, Wintras remaining silent.

He continued on, idly snacking on a slice of pear. "For you know, the rumor is that your father was not
born a king... That he took his crown by a mixture of lucky happenstance and force..."

"I am not my father and my people love me."

"Love is a lie told by girls and old women." He snorted. "Love has no place in rule."

"That isn't what I believe." Wintras seemed suddenly at peace, looking at nothing, but obviously seeing
something. "Fear isn't necessary if you treat your subjects right. They will gladly die for you if they believe
you will do the same for them."

"Or take your head and parade it through the capital on a pike, much like your father's predecessor."

"He was evil and cruel and ruled by oppression." Wintras looked at him again. "Like you."

"Evil? Me? Come now. Jeremiah? Am I evil?"

The guard shook his head. "No, my Lord."

He nodded at the captain of the guards. "Do I provide for your family? Assure education and land for
your sons?"

Another nod. "You do, my Lord."

Wintras snorted. "And how do you get the land for his sons? You steal it from another."

"As you will. It is the price of power." Surely the boy was not this much of a fool...

"I will find another way."

"You will fail."

"Then I will do so on my own terms." Wintras looked away again. So stubborn. So very, very sure of
himself.

He snorted, becoming frustrated, unhappy. "Not until you accept mine, Slave."

Wintras turned to look at him, a knowing look in the dark eyes. "Ah, we finally have the truth. I am your
slave."

"Until you learn your place. Yes." His temper flared, the magic calling the bar'cha, curious and wanting to
play.

"My place is caring for my people, Zujan. I imagine you will have me killed before I believe otherwise."

"I gave your parents my word, Wintras. You will live." He was through with this, through with today's
banter. Tomorrow they could play again. "Sleep well, Pet. If you hunger, ask for me."

Then he swept up the stairs, hair tossing, steadfastly ignoring the irritation the boy created beneath his
skin.

***

Wintras had no idea how long he had been in the dungeon. There had been several changes of guard
since Zujan had left after taunting him with food and drink. He was still shivering involuntarily and though
he was hungry, it was the thirst that was the worst. His throat was sore; his mouth felt like it was made of
sand.

He thought it was most likely that he was going to die from thirst, quite literally, and it seemed an awfully
harsh way to die. It would have been kinder to be burned to a crisp.

A wave of warmth had passed through him and suddenly he was hot, burning up. He looked around for
Zujan, but the man was nowhere to be seen and as quickly as the warmth had come, it disappeared
again, leaving him shivering violently. Fever dreams followed soon after that and he woke from them
feeling worse than ever.

A cool, soft hand stroked his cheek. "Do you thirst?"

He tried to answer, but could not, his throat too dry. Was this another dream?

Cool water brushed his lips. "Open for me, sweet one. Open for Sartis."

Oh, it was a dream. Such gentle hands, such sweet cool water and the soft voice -- what could it be if
not a dream? Wintras opened his mouth, moaning. Water dripped into his lips, blessedly sweet, sliding
over his parched tongue. He swallowed it eagerly, moaning as it hit his throat. He blinked, struggling to
focus. This was no dream.

Dark eyes stared at him, so close, as water slid into his mouth. He blinked up at his benefactor,
wondering who this was who dared to defy Zujan. Or was it the dungeons that were a dream? Another
drink was offered, lips sweet and cool, gentle. He moaned again, confused, but so thirsty he would not
refuse the water.

Hands combed through his hair, smoothing it, warmth against him. He pressed close to the warmth
before moving away again, trying to sit, to figure out where he was and what was going on.

The water came again, along with a slow, seductive kiss. He sucked the water from the hot mouth,
pressed close before tearing away again.

Where?

What?

Who?

"Shh..." Heat and softness surrounded him on every side, a sweet, warm drink pressed to his lips now.
Oh, he wanted nothing more than to sink into this dream and drink and be warm and ease his spirit, but

he didn't know what was real and he'd been fighting so hard.

Zujan! He pulled himself up and tried to see his anonymous benefactor once more.

"No more fighting. Just rest." Hands eased him down, soothing, warming him.

"But..." His body betrayed him, melting into the warmth and comfort even as his mind told him to fight, to
be strong. He could not. He was weak, tired and cold and thirsty and dying of hunger.

The warm drink was offered again, soothing his hunger, easing his pain, relaxing him deep within. He
floated in the warmth, belly no longer screaming, throat and mouth easing slightly. He decided that this
must be a fever dream and he didn't want to wake from it, didn't want to be cold and hungry and thirsty
in Zujan's dungeon.

Blankets covered him, soft music soothing him as he sank into dreams.

Chapter Two

Rall sat, watching the interloper sleep. His master had said to watch the newcomer, to make sure the
Prince was fed and bathed and pleasured, made comfortable and safe, much as he had been. It was
Zujan's way, to mingle pleasure and pain, hope and despair, until one must cling to Zujan himself, hoping
for answers. The Prince was lovely -- blond and strong and golden. Rall looked down at his own
nut-brown body, slight and well-known. It would not be long before his status as favored slipped and he
would be dressed and primped and sent back to the cold lands of his father.

It wasn't fair, he didn't want to return, to rule, to be the Heir Apparent. He wanted to spend his nights in
Zujan's bed, hearing the soft voice call him "Pet." He wanted to feel Zujan's shaft part his lips. He wanted
to have the harem boys bow to him, acknowledge his position as favored.

Well... Maybe he wanted to rule a *little*.

Rall chuckled at himself, standing to go take a closer look at the Prince, the new little Pet, Zujan's slave.

The prince moaned softly, shifting on the bed, the silk covers sliding away from the golden skin. Days of
refusing food and water had left the Prince a little gaunt, but it did nothing to hide the lean muscles of
Wintras' belly, the strong thighs, the long shaft between them.

Rall took a drink of the cool water mixed with attar of alliset, then filled his lips again, and placed them
against the Prince's, offering the man a drink. The alliset made the fire of passion blaze, his Master gave it
to all of them in the water, assuring their pleasure and Zujan's amusement.

Wintras' mouth opened beneath his lips, the Prince's mouth still parched for liquid. He fed Wintras one
drink after another, tongue sliding in to taste. The amazing dark blue eyes blinked open, a soft moan
meeting his tongue. "Who?" The Prince blinked, looking dazed, aroused, confused. It was a delicious
sensation.

"Shh... You are safe. It is only me, come to help you heal." He offered another drink, trusting in Wintras'
hungers.

Wintras accepted the drink eagerly, sucking on his tongue this time when he slipped it in. "I thought you
were a fever-dream."

"No. Your fever is gone." His hand slid over Wintras' belly, petting gently. "More water?"

"Who are you?" The Prince asked, but his body was reacting to the touch, his mouth lifting for more.

"Another Prince, like yourself." He smiled, took another kiss. "One day we might be friends, sitting
across a banquet table."

Wintras beamed at him. "You rescued me! I knew someone would."

"You were brought from the dungeons. You were cold, sick, starving. You needed care." His fingers slid

down farther, wrapping around the heavy cock, touching.

"Brought?" Wintras frowned and then moaned, distracted by his touch. The Prince pushed up into his
hand, moaning.

"Mm... that's right. You can need, sweet Prince." He bent, tongue sliding over the tip.

More moans met that, the Prince's body rippling, hips driving the hard shaft into his mouth. He moaned,
eager, wanton, his own need sparked. A trembling hand slid through his hair, holding his head in place as
the Prince gave himself over to the need coursing through him.

Oh, strong. Sure. He purred, opening wide, sucking hard. Wintras moaned, hips moving faster, pushing
harder, the arousal from the alliset strong, all encompassing. Rall knew, he could feel it in his own veins,
setting him on fire. He cupped the Prince's heavy balls, careful not to touch behind. That prize belonged
to another.

"Oh!" The Prince cried out for him, prick throbbing as it emptied down his throat. Rall pumped his own
shaft as he swallowed, hand working furiously. The Prince sank back onto the bed, panting, gasping, little
shivers rocking the long body. He moved to lie against the warm body, rubbing, needing, so very close.

"Rall! Did I give you leave to spend?" Zujan's voice snapped across the room.

The Prince gasped and scrambled up, pushing into the corner with a silk sheet to cover himself. "You!
No!"

He looked back, almost panicking before understanding that this was yet another game for his beloved.
He threw himself into Wintras' arms, shivering, sobbing. "Don't let him hurt me. Please."

"What?" Wintras looked confused, but the Prince's arms went around him and he was pushed to 'safety'
behind the Prince's body. "So he is not free after all."

He met Zujan's gaze, the dark eyes amused and well-pleased. "Oh, he is free, little Prince. Free and
spoiled and in need of discipline."

"He cowers from you. Who can blame him -- you are a monster." The Prince's voice was harsh, his
words lacking their earlier conviction. The lack of sustenance and the drugs were no doubt leaving him
confused.

"He cowers from my whip, dear boy." Zujan chuckled, leaned against the wall. The slender form was
beautiful in black leather, hair down and curling about the perfectly formed body, dark jewels catching
the sunlight.

"Please, Master. Do not whip me. Do not allow him to whip me. Please."

"You claim he is free, Zujan. Prove it. Leave him alone." The Prince obviously thought himself strong,
thought he was being a protector.

"You claim you would sacrifice yourself for those weaker than you. Submit to me willingly for a full cycle
of the moon, and I will do as you ask for him."

Wintras gasped, body jerking, going stiff. Then the Prince turned and looked at him.

He looked back, eyes pleading, then Zujan spoke again. "Agree and I will return him to his father,
unharmed."

Rall gasped, jerked, eyes filling with tears.

"Done." The Prince smiled at him. "You are a slave no longer." The hand on his shoulder was gentle,
warm and then Wintras was turning back to Zujan. "Now we will find out if you are a man of your word,
Zujan."

"I am, indeed." The tears splashed upon his cheeks, soft sobs coming as those dark eyes fastened on

him. "I will have a carriage readied for you, Prince Rall of the North. You have served me well."

Wintras beamed at him, hugged him tight. "You are free! Look at him, Zujan, he is so relieved he cries
tears of joy. It is well worth my sacrifice."

"Indeed." Zujan held one hand out to Rall. "Come, Prince. Let us find you clothing and jewels and my
final gifts to you." Those dark eyes met Wintras'. "You will join us this evening at the Prince's farewell
banquet."

His heart was broken, sobs constant.

"As you command, so will I do." Wintras' voice was tight. "Until the moon is again full."

"That is right, pretty pet, and come willing." Zujan took Rall's hand, fingers ice cold. "Now Prince Rall,
come with me."

Rall went, managing to not press close until the door closed. "Master, please!"

"Sh..." The cold hand stroked his jaw. "You have pleased me in all things, Pet. You and I will be allies
for all time, as your father and I were, your grandfather."

"I have served you in all things, I have denied you nothing. Why are you punishing me?"

"Do not question me, sweet pet." Those eyes met his. "Your time here was up when the moon faded,
your contract filled."

He went to his knees, accepting his Lord's will in this as all else, though it broke his heart, perhaps more
so because he knew the one who replaced him was unwilling. "I love you, Master Zujan."

A soft chuckle sounded. "I know, Pet, and I will receive you as often as you appear. Come, let me fill
you, hear you beg one last time."

His heart leapt, as did his prick. "As my master wishes."

***

Wintras paced from one end of the small room to another. He was warm; he'd been fed and watered,
pleasured. When he'd said he would refuse those things from Zujan. At least he knew he had not made
the bargain while under the influence of hunger and thirst. He had saved poor Rall, Rall who had been so
kind to him, who had saved him, from more torture at Zujan's hands.

He tried the door and found it open, but a guard stood on the other side of it.

"His Lordship said you were not to be disturbed until it was time to take you to the banquet."

Which Wintras translated as, despite your word you are still a prisoner within this room. At least it was
warmer than the dark, damp dungeon. Though, as he had told Zujan, a gilded cage was nonetheless a
cage. And there by his own word or no, he was still a prisoner. He explored his cage.

The walls were quite bare, a single, small fire burned in the fireplace. There was a chair by the fire and
the bed along the wall with its silken sheets. That was it.

Perhaps this cage was not so gilded after all.

He went back to the door and pulled it open, a little surprised it still yielded to him. "Where are my
clothes?" he asked the guard.

"If the Master wants you to have some, they'll be brought."

Wintras stared at the guard, waiting for him to laugh. The man did not. He closed the door, sinking to the
floor, wrapping his arms around himself. He had promised Zujan a full lunar cycle. What had he done?

He had saved Rall from more suffering, more servitude to Zujan. That was what he had done. It was the
right thing.

Wintras straightened and went to the bed, tearing one of the sheets in half and tying the ends together
around one shoulder. It was an ill-fitting robe, but it covered him.

A tiny slip of a lad wearing the ubiquitous tunic popped in, eyes shining, blond hair mussed. "Master's
sent me to bathe you and get you ready for the banquet."

He looked around. "I see no bath."

Just because he had agreed to be Zujan's slave did not mean he needed to be gracious and seeing
another of Zujan's slaves, and this one so young, brought his anger back to fore.

"Uh. No. The tubs are in the bathing chambers." He got another smile. "Do you sleep where you bathe
at your home?"

"In the winters, yes -- we keep to the main rooms with the big fires. I didn't expect to be allowed out of
my cage for the bath," he admitted. It was hard to stay angry when the only person to let it out on was
this lovely imp.

"Oh, the cages only come out when Master has a big party and dresses the boys like birds." His hand
was taken and he was led out of the room.

He spluttered, but he could think of nothing to say in reply to that, remembering the boys mounted on the
walls like hunting trophies.

The boy's hand was small and warm and, frankly, comforting. Rall's attentions had saved his life, but
they had been wrapped in fevered dreams and a haze. The boy's touch was sweet, comforting. Suddenly
he missed his home very, very much.

"Cook has made all sort of sweets, she sent samples at lunch. You're very lucky. The bath is drawn and
I'm the very best at hair washing. I wash the Master's hair."

"You don't have to serve me... what's your name?"

"Patin, and I don't mind working. I like washing. It's so much better than freezing."

"Were those your choices, Patin?" he asked sadly.

"Well, where Master's guard found me? Yes. Ma and Da had got the plague and were rotten and
Master had me and Win and Lacy and Kat in to learn to wash and cook and stuff."

"Oh. I'm sorry about your parents, Patin." There wasn't much more he could say than that, was there? It
certainly didn't fit with the image he'd made of Zujan. Of course the man hadn't rescued the boys into a
life of luxury, but one of servitude. So it wasn't like the man was suddenly a saint or anything.

Wintras tried to watch the way they were going, but Patin seemed to be winding this way and snaking
that way and Wintras was totally and entirely lost.

Patin finally opened a door to a room with a huge copper tub, filled with steaming water. "Here we are!
Hop in."

Oh. Oh, a bath. A *bath*. Water, hot and steaming. Soap. Clean. He was so dirty. It had been days
since he'd washed and he'd been in that dingy dungeon for most of it.

He pulled off his makeshift robe and stepped into the steaming water, moaning as he sank down into it.
Patin grabbed a sweet-smelling soap and began washing him, touch gentle, careful. He was going to tell

Patin again that this wasn't necessary, but the boy's touch was so sweet and welcome, made him feel less
alone. So he said nothing, just sighed happily as the dirt was washed away.

His hair was cleaned and scrubbed, rinsed, the tangles gently worked out. His eyes closed and he
moaned. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so pampered. Patin began to sing, the sound
happy and sweet, relaxed, easy. He hummed along, falling into a doze. He was allowed to luxuriate, to
rest, his hair carefully brushed and braided.

He had to remind himself that Zujan was his captor. A user. His enemy.

Finally one little hand stroked his shoulder. "You need to dress. It's almost time."

"Thank you, Patin." He got out of the water and let Patin dry him, the towel soft as if it were silk.

He wondered what exactly Zujan would consider proper attire for him. He was not going to be happy in
one of those little tunics that exposed him. Indeed, he was offered a tunic, short and brief, embroidered
around the edge.

"Where's the rest of it?" he demanded. He was not going to attend Zujan with his privates hanging out.

"The rest? This is all." Patin held it up, the edge would just cover his buttocks. "It's the right size."

"It needs to be longer. Or I need breeches to go with it." He was not going to wear this and only this. He
was not. Not.

"Longer?" Patin tilted his head. "Too small? Okay. Yes. I'll find a bigger one. Maybe."

"No maybe. I need a bigger one. Now. Right away. Before I have to go to this banquet with the master.
Please, Patin." Patin nodded, rummaging, digging around until a deep blue tunic was produced, long
enough to cover him to mid-thigh. He beamed at the boy. "Patin! You're wonderful."

He put it on happily. "It's perfect."

Patin beamed, eyes shining. "Good. We should go. The food will be ready."

He reached out to stroke Patin's cheek. "Thank you."

The boy bounced and hugged him. "Oh, I do like you. I hope you're happy here."

"I'll be happy to spend time with you, Patin." But that would be it.

"Well, the Master's favorite is very busy, but I'll bathe you every day."

He was led along one hallway after another. Master's favorite. The words echoed in his head, making
him dizzy. How could he be Zujan's favorite? He hated the man, had made no effort to hide that fact.

A set of huge doors appeared and Patin stopped. "In there. Eat a pastry for me!"

He nodded, resisting hanging back, clinging to this wee lad. He lifted his head and pushed open the
doors, walking in as if he were the Lord here.

"Oh, you did find us! Welcome, Pet, and help us send our dear Prince off in style." Zujan was lounging,
dressed in pure white, pearls in his hair. Rall was dressed in the greatest finery, looking small and unsure
and scared.

"I'm not yours. And I would prefer you didn't call me your Pet." He went and sat on the other side of
Rall, refusing to look at Zujan.

"Now, now. You promised to submit, sweet Pet. Play nicely."

The table was loaded with food -- roast and roots and pastries.

"I agreed to submit, not to become yours. And I am playing nice -- although I should have said please.
Please, do not call me your Pet." He still didn't look at Zujan, instead he focused on the food, his
stomach growling. It had been so long since he'd had a good meal.

"Eat. Eat, my dear ones." Zujan's laugh grated, the sound merry and amused.

He reached for one of the pastries, remembering Patin's request. He wished there was a way for him to
smuggle some out for the boy. Rall ate little, Zujan even less, the thin fingers picking. He was starving,
though, and ate hungrily.

He had a new tactic now. He would kill Zujan with kindness. He would be polite and do as he was told
and get strong and when the moon was full he would take as many of the slaves as he could and run. Of
course to do that he would have to look at the man.

"Tell us a tale of your homeland, dear boy. Amuse my sweet Prince Rall."

Wintras smiled at Rall. "Well my favorite tale was always the one where the good boy defeats the evil
king. Would you like to hear that one, Rall?"

Rall's eyes were wide, shocked. "I... Of course. Please."

Zujan chuckled softly. "That sounds like a lovely story. Do tell."

"One upon a time there was a prin -- a boy. Who was very good to his subj -- neighbors.

"Everything was good until the evil king showed up. The boy's family tried to mollify the evil king with
presents, but in the end, the evil king took the boy and hid him away in his castle.

"The evil king wanted the boy to join him in his evil ways, but the boy wouldn't succumb, no matter what
the evil king did and in the end the boy escaped and the evil king died alone."

Zujan's chuckle filled the room. "Oh, what a gloomy story, my sweet Pet. How about this one? Once
upon a time there was a spoiled Prince whose parents left him with a clever ally to gain an education. He
learned his limitations and then, after offering himself willingly and easily, returned home to his father."

Wintras glared at his plate, still refusing to look at Zujan. "I have asked you, quite politely, not to call me
pet. As for your story? As arrogant as you are."

"Ah, yes. Not my Pet. My sweet beauty. My prince. My dear boy. Which do you like, Prince Rall?"

"I always prefer Pet, my Lord."

He shook his head, wondering if he had bought the wrong man's freedom with his subservience. He
would have liked to have freed Patin. "I prefer prince."

"My Prince? It has a ring." Zujan made a clucking noise. "Look at me, my prince."

His hands turned to fists, but he had given his word to submit, to obey, and he was true to his word. He
turned to Zujan, letting his loathing show in his eyes.

Zujan's eyes were black, shining. "You have sworn to do my will, my prince. I will have you, every bit of
you."

The man was beautiful. Cold and heartless, brutal, but beautiful. He would not be swayed by beauty. "I
will submit, Zujan, but you will never have my heart or my soul. My respect and my love are reserved for
those who deserve them."

"I have no use for your heart. Only your body and your obedience."

Rall whimpered.

"Good because that is all you will ever have, and never given willingly, only to save another." He pet
poor Rall's arm.

"Of course. Our dear martyr." Zujan plucked a grape from the table, slowly eating it.

"If I am a martyr it is only because you make me one." He was not noticing how red Zujan's lips seemed
against the perfect pale skin, how the man's tongue played with the grape before it disappeared behind
now wet lips. No, not at all.

Little firefaeries sprang up, dancing upon the food, the colors bright and stunning. He watched them,
transfixed. These were the little firefaeries that had wreaked havoc at the ball and yet... they were so
beautiful. They seemed to dance, to twirl and spin and bounce over the table.

As if possessed, he reached out toward one.

Rall jerked, grabbed his hand. "They burn!"

He blinked, looking at Rall and then at Zujan. "The tarts -- they're drugged, aren't they?" he accused.

"Pardon me?" Zujan honestly looked confused.

"You didn't eat any of them. You're drugging me." It was the only explanation for the way he was
noticing Zujan, for his dangerous fascination with the firefaeries.

Zujan snorted, held out a long, thin hand. "Hand me one."

He chose one and handed it over, glaring. "It doesn't mean anything. It's not poison, of course you
wouldn't mind eating one."

Zujan nibbled at it. "Why would I drug you, my Prince? I have your word you will submit."

"Because... because you want me to want it." It sounded stupid, even to his own ears. Zujan probably
wanted him to suffer every moment.

"You will find pleasure, my prince. I have no doubt."

"That's all right -- I have doubt enough of that for both of us." Drugging him was the only way he would
find pleasure in his submission.

A finger dipped into the crust of the pastry, Zujan licking the dark berries, obviously enjoying the treat. It
was very... sexy. He blinked rapidly as tears threatened. He was so confused and his head was starting
to hurt. "You should have some wine, some roast. You spent many days in hunger." He shook his head.
No, he couldn't eat. It would be giving in. He couldn't give in. He'd been tricked into eating the tart.
"Wintras. I order you to eat, sustain yourself."

Rall's eyes were huge, watching them.

He reached out and picked up a grape, putting it carefully into his mouth and eating it. Zujan echoed his
actions, licking and sucking the purple orb, sucking the juice from it. He gasped, his cock throbbing at the
sight. He nearly choked on his own grape and he tore his eyes away from Zujan. Drugs or a spell. The
man was a mage after all, it was obvious he had been enspelled.

Rall patted his back, leaning close. "There is no shame in this, Wintras. I swear to you."

"Except that I don't want it, Rall. I don't want him. I don't want to be here."

"You swore to submit. He is a man of his word."

"I will submit, Rall. And you will be free. But I don't want him."

"You will." Rall's fingers brushed his cheeks. "You will."

"I will not." What scared him was that perhaps Rall was right. He straightened his spine and stared at the
wall across the room. He would not go down without a fight.

"Strip him, Rall, and ready him for me. We will show him what it means to want."

He gasped, eyes shooting to Zujan. He knew this was coming, had known from the start and knew that
he must accept it when he agreed to submit, but here, in front of everyone? The man truly was a monster.

Rall stood, shaking his head, one hand held out. "You must learn to control your tongue."

He stood, not taking Rall's hand. He would submit, but he had never said he would make it easy for
anyone. "I can remove my own clothing," he said tightly, pulling the tunic from his body.

It wasn't that he minded nudity -- in fact he quite enjoyed it, but here it was being used to shame him.
And that he did not like in the least.

Zujan pulled a bottle of green oil from a box at the foot of his bench. "Here, Rall. This should slick the
way."

He bit his lip. He would not cry. He was here of his own free will. That he had never performed this

particular act and would do so as a... as a sideshow for entertainment value meant nothing. Really, the
whole thing meant nothing, just another proof that Zujan was a heartless monster.

He stood still and naked, head held high as he waited for instruction. Rall took the oil, slicking the little
fingers quickly and wrapping them around his shaft, pumping, patiently working him to a full hardness. He
silently cursed his body for finding its pleasure in this. To submit he only needed to accept Zujan and
what Zujan did, he did not need to get hard, to come. Curse Zujan and Rall for insisting he did.

Zujan stood up, moved behind him. The long thin fingers stroked over his back, caressed his hips. He
shivered at the touch of the cool fingers. He would have thought a fire mage's skin would burn. The
touches continued, gentle, light, arousing. Not hurting, not making it painful.

He stood straight as a ramrod, breathing through his nose, biting the inside of his cheek to keep the tears
from his eyes. The gentleness made it worse somehow, brought an intimacy to it that a quick coupling
would not have had.

Rall stood before him, lips covering his own, bending him forward. He let Rall's mouth have his sob,
letting them position him as they would. He couldn't fight, he couldn't. He had promised to submit.

Cool, slick fingers circled the ring of muscles in his cleft, the oil tingling, warming, almost burning. His
body clenched hard, denying that this was happening, that he was sharing his body like this out of duty
rather than love.

"I will not take you unwilling, Pet. You swore to submit." The touch continued, soft and easy.

He was trying, damn the man! He bowed his head and closed his eyes, hands holding tight to Rall as he
breathed deeply, forcing his body to loosen, to ease. To let Zujan breach his hole.

Rall kissed him, tongue sliding into his lips, hand slowly pumping his cock as Zujan's finger pressed,
stroked. He whimpered as Zujan's finger pushed into his body, a shudder moving through him. His body
clenched tight around it before he forced himself to ease again.

"Mmm... so tight. So fine, Wintras. Have you never shared this with a shield mate? With a lover? With a

curious woman's finger perhaps?"

He clenched his teeth, wishing more than anything that he could tell Zujan yes, that he did not have to let
Zujan know that this was being stolen from him as well.

"No," he muttered, hands holding so tight to Rall's shoulders that he was sure there would be bruises in
the morning. He felt Zujan move, felt the brush of a hot, wet tongue against his entrance. He gasped in
shock, lightning shooting up his spine. Oh, the touch was hot, sweet, the motion of Zujan's tongue
unbelievable.

He sobbed again, pleasure shaking him hard. He couldn't find his breath, couldn't see. The pleasure
didn't stop, didn't ease, Rall pumping him, driving him harder and higher. He was shaking, caught
between the hand on his prick and the tongue at his entrance, everything else fading away beneath the
onslaught of pleasure. Cool hands spread him wider, that tongue pressing deep. Rall moaned, the sound
pushing into his lips, wanton, low. He cried out as Zujan's tongue fucked him, the pleasure more than he
could withstand. Shaking hard, he submitted his pleasure to Zujan, seed spraying over Rall's hand.

Zujan stood, hand sliding over his buttocks, patting. "Very fine."

He shivered, trembled and tried very hard not to cry as their surroundings came flooding back to him,
the sounds of the others at Zujan's table, the fact of who it was who had made him come. He told himself
that it was sweat on his cheeks.

Ignoring his nakedness, he straightened and stared off into the distance, offering Rall a small smile as he
was helped back into his tunic.

Zujan chuckled, the sound sending shivers down his spine. "Your carriage is almost ready to leave,
sweet Rall. Do you have any other advice for my Prince?"

Rall shook his head. "L...learn much."

"I will. I will learn how not to rule." He patted Rall on the back. "Enjoy your freedom and thank you for
the things you did for me."

Rall's eyes filled with tears as the boy nodded.

"Don't cry, Rall. You're free." How he envied the boy that.

"I...I know."

Zujan stood, held one hand out to Rall. "Come now, I will show you to your carriage."

"Good-bye, Rall." He tried not to be jealous, tried not to wish too hard that it was him going instead.
Rall had been a slave to Zujan for so long, it was well past time for him to be free, to know again his own
life.

Soon enough, Zujan would tire of toying with him and he would be allowed to return home himself.

Or so he hoped.

Chapter Three

Zujan watched Rall's carriage leave, the poor Prince's tears drying on the back of his hand. Pity, the boy
was obedience personified and a sweet hole to take. Still, he'd been watching the lad and how Rall
lorded over the harem and knew it was time. Always cut them loose to rule before they attempt to
overthrow you. A good rule of thumb.

He wandered back through his halls, heading towards his private rooms, getting distracted by this and
that, flame-faeries dancing idly about him, amusing him. He had ordered Wintras to ready him a bath, to
prepare to bathe him.

It would be most fun -- finding this strong boy's breaking point, and a time limit too?

Delicious.

He found his rooms, the edges of his cloaks frosty, the masses of bar'cha dancing, performing for him.
"Is my bath ready, Prince?"

Eyes on the ground, voice even and dull, Wintras replied. "It is, Zujan."

"Oh, excellent. Come undress me then. I am eager." He held out his arms, spun.

"You want me to undress you as if you were a child?"

He stopped, arched an eyebrow. "I do not believe I asked for your questions, Prince."

Wintras shrugged and came to him, fingers clumsy and untutored as they fumbled with his clothing.
Zujan watched the bar'cha, the little buttons of light curious, watching Wintras, moving closer. Odd. They
never seemed so curious about the others. One got too close and Wintras batted it away with a tut. He
blinked as the faery disappeared, simply popped out of existence with a shower of sparks. "What did
you just do?"

"I'm undressing you."

Zujan frowned. The bar'cha must have been ill-made. Broken. Something. "Well be a bit more
enthusiastic."

Wintras actually looked at him. Then smiled rather wickedly and ripped his clothes down the middle.He
shrugged the remnants of his clothes off, careful to keep his face still. With a thought, he burned the
seams of Wintras' tunic, the cloth falling to the ground, smoldering, leaving the boy naked.

"You, my sweet Prince, have lost your clothing privileges. Congratulations. Now. Bath?"

Wintras glared at him. "Are you blind? It's right there."

"That is your second question of the evening, Wintras. Must I remind you that you agreed to obey, to
submit?" He gave the Prince his coldest glare. "I kept my word. You will keep yours."

"I have obeyed you!" Wintras glared right back at him.

"You have not submitted." Beautiful boy.

Wintras glared a moment longer and then turned and went on all fours. "There."

He arched an eyebrow. "What are you about, Pet?"

Wintras popped up, growling at him. "Submit, obey, no questions, undress me, do it faster, you did it
wrong, obey, submit! I thought you wanted me on my knees in front of you! Make up your mind, Zujan!"

The bar'cha spun, appearing out of nowhere, the air going icy. "I ordered you to undress and bathe me. I
have done as you asked, I have released Rall. You will keep your word." The fury felt good, rich, icy.

"I am trying!" Wintras batted at the bar'cha that came too close to him, still glaring.

"You are not trying hard enough!"

Wintras stopped glaring and relaxed, looking past his shoulder. "I agreed to obey and submit to you for
a moon. I am doing that."

"Then bathe me." Stubborn boy.

"Am I supposed to carry you to the tub?"

He actually chuckled, shaking his head, amused. "No. I can manage that part."

Zujan moved to the tub, sliding in, moaning at the heat. Wintras trailed him slowly and took hold of the
soap and a cloth. The washing that began was perfunctory, rough.

"Stop." he held up an arm, the pale skin rubbed red. "I have fragile skin."

Wintras snorted and stepped back. He rolled his eyes, tugging the bell. He gave up Rall for this?

The sweet little thing that bathed him appeared, rubbing his eyes, blinking. "Yes, Master?"

"Help me with my bath."

Wintras moved back into the shadows as Sani's soapy little hands began sliding over him. The child
worked gently, quickly, and it wasn't long before he was clean, sliding from the tub into a warm robe.

"Do you need anything else, Master?"

"No, peep. There is a tray in the outer chambers. Take it to share with your mates." He winked, smiling
at the look of pleasure in the child's eyes.

The Prince remained quiet, half-hidden in the shadows the whole time, though he could feel Wintras'
gaze on him.

"Have one of the harem boys sent up, child. Tyr, perhaps, or Mal." Zujan settled on his bed, piled high
with one blanket after another, relieved to hide his shivering, his shaking. Bathing exhausted him, chilled
him deep inside, but there was no reason to share that knowledge.

"Yes, Master." The child waited until he offered his hand for a kiss and then off he went.

He heard Wintras shifting, the man had to be freezing with nothing to wear, but no complaint was made,
the stubborn fool remaining quiet. He arranged his pillows, relaxing back against them, waiting, watching.
In no time, Tyr entered, red hair wild, freckles peppering the pale skin. "My Lord?"

He offered the boy a smile, the expression widening when he saw Wintras shift in the shadows. "I wish
you to pleasure the Prince, Tyr."

Wintras gasped, obviously surprised. The Prince shrank back further in the shadows.

"Oh, no. Out here by the fire so I can see." He didn't bother to hide his smile.

The Prince moved toward the fire, hands covering himself. "Surely you meant him to pleasure you,
Zujan."

"Do not begin to believe you understand my wishes, Prince. Place your hands behind your neck." He
was chilled, sore from too much magic and not enough contact.

Wintras stood with the fire at his back and slowly raised his hands, linking them behind his neck. The
Prince's body shone from the backlighting of the fire, the dark blue eyes lost in the shadow cast on his
face. Tyr, a strong, broad shouldered man, moved to stand behind Wintras, hands wrapping around,
fingers sliding under the flat belly. Wintras drew in a sharp breath, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. The
Prince was not quite as tall as Tyr, nor as broad shouldered, so he framed the golden skinned Wintras
perfectly.

Zujan knew Tyr's habits, the Pet excelled at teasing, at driving another mad with long, slow touches. It
quite warmed him. Wintras' body betrayed him, cock quickly growing hard, reaching for Tyr's hands.
There were tears on Wintras' cheeks when his eyes closed. Zujan watched the huge hands sliding over

Wintras' skin, so gentle, so sure. Wintras' thighs were carefully parted, balls held in gentle fingers.

Wintras began to tremble; he wouldn't have caught it if he hadn't been looking so intensely and the
Prince took a breath, a sound catching in his throat.

"You're quite beautiful in your need, my Prince." He was purring, hand sliding over his own body.
Wintras' eyes remained closed but a soft shudder moved through the golden body, the long, hard cock
bobbing.

"Are his nipples sensitive, Tyr?" He smiled as one hand slid up, pinching and rubbing. Wintras gasped,
body jerking, another sob coming from the lovely Prince.

"Yes, my Lord. Quite sensitive."

"Oh, how lovely." He smiled. "Do you think piercing them with jeweled rings counts as harming him,
Pet?"

Wintras' eyes flew open. "Yes!"

Zujan chuckled, amused. "But think how you would look -- jewels in your nipples, in the tip of your
need, chains holding them joined."

"You are a monster." Wintras looked horrified, though he noted the lovely erection had not faded.

"Such accusations! Tyr, am I a monster?"

"No, my Lord."

"Do I mistreat you?"

"Never, my Lord."

Wintras drew himself very straight, but could not hide the tremors that moved through him at Tyr's
continuing touches. "You forget, Zujan, that I am here under duress."

"No, Prince. You are here by your own promise." His hand wrapped around his own shaft, sliding lazily.

"I have not forgotten, though you seem to have forgotten that I was only here to make that promise
because you were holding me prisoner."

"Tyr. Pet. Your ministrations have not stolen the stridence from my Prince's voice. Have you lost your
touch?"

Tyr gave a growl, hands moving faster on Wintras' body. Such a very good boy. Wintras gasped again,
breath quickly becoming short, loud in the room. Oh, yes. That was much more pleasant than listening to
the lad complain endlessly.

Wintras shook his head, whispering "no" and "don't" and "please."

"Submit to my will, Prince. It is your duty."

"What do you want of me?" Wintras asked, voice hoarse.

"I want you to feel. You are being offered pleasure. Accept it."Wintras' head dropped, his body starting
to move, thrusting his cock through the tunnel of Tyr's hand. His own hand moved in time, enjoying the
way the flush traveled up along Wintras' belly. It wasn't long at all before Wintras gasped loudly, seed
flying over Tyr's hand. He purred, hand moving faster. "Lick Tyr's hand clean, Prince. Thank him for his
work."

Wintras shot him a disbelieving look, whimpered and took Tyr's hand, licking at it with small, tiny flicks
of his tongue. "Th... thank you, Tyr."

"My pleasure." Tyr gave Wintras a smile, eyes warm as they turned to him. "May I beg your indulgence,
my Lord? I have not tasted you on my tongue in moons."

He purred softly, drawing the blankets back so they might see his need. Wintras gasped softly again,
shrinking back into the shadows once more. "No, Prince. You will stand at the foot of the bed. You will
watch."

Wintras walked slowly, the Prince obviously reluctant. "Why?"

"Because I will it."

Tyr knelt between his legs, cheek soft and warm against his shaft. Wintras sighed but stood at the foot of
the bed, eyes looking somewhere in the general vicinity of the back of Tyr's head.

"Now, I want you to touch Tyr. He was kind to you, brought your pleasure. You should do the same for
him." He moaned as Tyr took him in that warm mouth, sucking and licking. Wintras gave him a hard
glare, but the Prince climbed onto the bed, behind Tyr, hands moving up along the long legs. Tyr's groan
vibrated around him, red curls beginning to bob. "Yes."

Wintras didn't look at him, concentrating instead on Tyr. The long fingered hands slid over Tyr's ass and
then split, one going up along Tyr's spine, the other disappearing around Tyr's waist. Zujan pushed his
fingers through Tyr's hair, hips moving, fucking the hot mouth with sure motions. Tyr was moaning around
his cock, obviously enjoying whatever it was Wintras was doing. He arched, thighs parting, bar'cha
lighting the room as his need grew.

Tyr's suction increased, a cry vibrating around his cock, heat splashing against his leg. His own orgasm
followed in short order, balls throbbing, emptying into Tyr's lips. Wintras moved back to the end of the
bed, sitting, curled around himself, eyes on the fire.

Tyr licked him clean, then tucked him into the blankets. "Thank you, my Lord. Shall I bring him to the
harem?"

"Do what you will with him, Tyr. I'll call for him when I want him."

"Thank the goddess. Get me out of here, Tyr." Wintras was already standing and at the door, having
moved with great speed to be out of his rooms.

His peace was shattered, frustration slamming to the forefront again. "On second thought, have him
gagged and bound between two of the trees in the orchard. A day or two of being used by the farm
hands might sweeten his tongue."

"What? No! You cannot. I agreed to submit to you not to be raped by others as well!"

"I can do as I wish. I am the master here and it is high time you understood that." He pulled the bell, the
guards appearing immediately, bulky and heavy and broad. "Gagged and strapped between two tall
trees. He is not to be permanently marked, but my loyal ones can make whatever use they might find in
him." He stopped, sneered. "He has been found lacking."

"Monster!" shouted Wintras, anything further gagged by one big hand.

He waved his hand. "Bring it back when it learns manners."

Wintras was dragged off, fighting and kicking.

Tyr frowned and stroked his leg. "Let me stay, Master?"

He looked down, fingers sliding through the wild curls. "Yes, sweet one. You have pleased me well."

"What can I do for you, Master? To make up for that ungrateful beast?"

"Warm me, Tyr. Show me your talents."

"Oh, yes, Master. Thank you." Tyr's fingers slid over his skin, soft and teasing, sensitizing his flesh. He
pulled the heavy blankets around them, allowing Tyr to worship him.

As was his due.

***

His arms ached.He was sunburned and bug-bitten.He'd been violated.His feet were bloodied from being
dragged out to the orchard. But worst of all?

He was bored.

He'd been used at sun-up and again at the next sun-up, and otherwise left to hang between the trees, not
even a guard to rail against. It was too uncomfortable to sleep and the sun made his head fuzzy, burned
the top of his shoulders, his backside.

It was well past sunset, the world gone black but for the stars in the sky before they came for him again,
torches slowly drawing nearer. It was the guards though, rather than the farmers, and the ropes were cut,
leaving him to fall to the ground in an undignified heap.

He was given a not-entirely gentle nudge by a booted toe. "Come now. We've orders to bathe you and
present you to his Lordship."

"I thought he was done with me." His voice was croaky and far more plaintive than he'd wanted.

"If he is, then you'll come down to the guards' quarters and service us until someone remembers you're
alive."

"I am a prince!" He managed a little more life in that one, though his refrain was growing old, even to his
own ears.

Another guard chuckled. "Nothing like a ride on a royal."

He gasped. Zujan had trained his men to be as perverted as he himself was!

"Come on, then. We don't have all night and if his Lordship has reason to punish us? You'll pay."

He snorted, their threats meant little to him -- he'd been forced to give his word to acquiesce to Zujan,
after having been kept against his will and even submitting had not been enough for the little dictator, he
had been used by the farmers at Zujan's command. Nonetheless, he stumbled along, his feet stinging,
muscles cramping.

He was pushed into a tub filled with cold water, the guards scrubbing him roughly, then bent over, the tip
of a wineskin pressed inside his body, the wine flooding him. "To freshen you up."

It made him gasp and writhe, the wine, the water, the soap, all burning cruelly against his sun-ravaged,
cut and abused flesh. He would not cry out though, would not give them that satisfaction. The wine made
his heart pound, made the world spin a bit and he was lifted up, a rough blanket thrown around him.His
teeth were chattering, colder now than he'd been overnight in the orchard.

He was brought to Zujan; the man sitting in his huge throne, furs piled about him. "Did you enjoy the
orchards, Pet?"

His furs. The furs of his people, offered to Zujan for no more than the hope of lenience. It sickened him.
"Not the worst nights I've suffered under your hospitality."

"Oh? Shall I make that your permanent post, then?" One black eyebrow arched.

His pride warred with the absolute boredom he'd experienced in only two days of hanging there. The
pains to his body he could withstand, whatever they might be. It occurred to him that hanging there was
hardly submitting to Zujan's will, which was what he had promised. And while he saw no need to enjoy
his time as Zujan's slave, he was dishonoring his name if he forced the man to punish him too often."No, I
would prefer to honor my word and submit to your will, Zujan."

He got a long look, then that pointed chin dipped. "As you will."

Zujan snapped his fingers and another scantily clad boy appeared. "Yes, Master."

"Feed the prince. Tend to his feet, his hair, his wrists and have him delivered to my quarters when he is
ready."

He inclined his head. "Thank you, Zujan."

He had to force the words from his mouth, but he said them nonetheless. He received a nod and then the
boy took his wrist, leading him back to the quiet, lush rooms where a number of young people waited.
The boy spoke quickly and then it seemed dozens of hands were on him -- petting and applying salve
and brushing and offering food to his lips.

He was tired and hurting and let them pamper him, let them feed him from their hands and make him feel
better without complaint, without trying to do for himself. He didn't question any of them if they were
happy or not, he was learning that Zujan's people were loyal, even if they weren't free.

He did feel better by the end, soothing creams spread on his feet, his nipples, his wrists. Even the
battered entrance to his body was doctored and stroked. His head rested on the soft thighs of one boy,
grapes and slices of fruit finding their way to his mouth, the occasional sip of water.His skin was oiled, the
hands gentle. He almost fell asleep, it was so soothing.

It was the thought that he could get used to this that roused him. It would not do to become complacent.
Nor would it do to forget that these men were slaves who coddled and served him because they had no

other choice.

Warm eyes met his. "Rest, sweet prince. You need not return to our Master until you are ready."

"And which of us gets in trouble if I am not ready for some time?" he asked as he settled again on the
warm legs.

"No one. The master does not wish you harm."

"Really?" He could smell the sweet, male scent of the boy. This he was familiar with. Being close with
male friends, warming and comforting each other.Innocent fumblings. No one forced into anything.
Almost without thinking, he nuzzled the soft blond curls crowning the bared cock.

"Mmm..." The sounds were sweet, soft chuckles and giggles filling the air.

It made him smile. "Is this allowed? Pleasuring each other?"

"Mmm... yes. We like to touch." Soft lips started brushing his skin, fingers stroking and teasing.

Oh. Oh, it was sweet, to be touched, pleasured because he and they wanted it.

He turned his head, pushing his face against... he raised his head. "What are your names?" He was not
an animal, mindlessly taking his pleasure from nameless, faceless men.

"Yves."

"Furn."

"Patricio."

The soft names poured over him, like the gentle touches, the soft tongues.

"I am Wintras."He reached up to Yves, tracing the soft features before burying his face in the boy's
crotch again, mouthing the hardness there.

"Wintras."

"Sweet Prince."

"So lovely."

"So strong."

"Sweet as honeyed wine."

Gentle fingers entered him, lips surrounded his shaft. He cried out, the pleasure soft and wanted. His
own hands slid on Yves, offering, he hoped, as much pleasure as he was being given. The gentleness, the
praise and warmth a balm. Fingers stroked his head, his hair, soft moans of pleasure seeming to come
from everywhere.He pushed away Yves' short tunic, lips sliding on the hot shaft itself. Yves' cock was
not too long, but hard and leaking at the tip, the flavor mostly sweet. The moan was long, sweet, calling
for him, calling for more. He slipped his lips over Yves' cock, sucking gently, fingers stroking the so soft
inner thighs as his own parted for clever fingers that were making him fly.

The silken flesh slid over his tongue, salt and sweet spreading in his mouth. The pressure within him
made him shift, so careful, so gentle. He undulated, feeling sensual, sexy. It was good.

His companions seemed to think so too, bodies bare and twined with his, with one another. They all
moved together, gasps and cries filling the air, the pleasure in those sounds echoed in his body. Yves

arched, seed splashing on his tongue, more heat spraying against his legs. His own orgasm was sweet,
made more so by the fact that he wanted it. Bodies pressed against him, held him, cradled him, happy
laughter in the air.

"Thank you," he murmured, sleep pulling heavily at him. He let himself go, he would worry about dealing
with Zujan on the morrow, for now he rested in the warm arms of his fellow slaves.

Chapter Four

For the first time since Wintras had been taken prisoner by Zujan, he woke up at peace.For a moment
he wondered if it had all been a horrible nightmare. He was warm, curled between two bodies on a soft
bed. He wasn't starving or so thirsty; his throat and mouth were not too dry to speak.

It was the twinge in his anus as he moved that shattered the illusion. He had been pleasured for the first
time, Zujan actually being kind in that, but then he had been used by the farmers. He was sure it was just
the kind ministrations of Zujan's slave boys that saved him from being in more pain this morning.

There was a slender cock, hard with morning's need against his back. His own need was nestled in the
back of another slave -- Patricio, unless it was Furn who had the pitch as night hair.

He looked around, careful not to move to much, not wanting to wake anyone.

Sunlight streamed through the high windows, lighting up the large room. There were several large beds,
each with its own pile of bodies, some moving in an unmistakable pattern, a long, low table by the fire,
covered in bowls of fruit, nuts, little cakes and several large jugs. A bar near the door held a plethora of
tunics, all in varying sizes, though more small than not and two matching red haired twins sat at the small
table near the bells, playing cards, naked with their tunics hanging off the backs of their chairs.

A soft moan sounded from one of the beds, followed quickly by a cry, both sounds making Wintras'
own prick throb with need. He wondered at how his cock always seemed so eager since being under
Zujan's rule. Was it something in the air? Some strange magic?

Certainly the harem was more than a little sexed, his dreams had been filled with sounds from the room,

of moans and groans and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. He shivered, unable to make his mind
find another subject and he began to rock, sliding between warm bodies, need throbbing in his belly.
Hands and lips answered him, sliding over his skin, meeting his need. It felt good and he went with it.
There would be plenty of time to let his mind rule his body, he was sure.

The sweet hole of the boy in front of him was offered and he slid his fingers down, testing Furn's -- for it
was Furn -- heat. Eager and willing, it felt so good to push into that tightness, to hear the happy cry. He
stretched Furn with one finger and then two, his eager prick rubbing against Furn's thighs.

"Morning. Morning, Wintras. Please. I have need."

"You seem to always have need," he murmured, fingers sliding away, pushing his cock in their place. Oh,
it was tight and hot. So good.

"It is what we were made for, to share pleasure."

His own need was driving him too hard to argue or worry on that right now. And surely despite his
status, Furn wanted this -- the boy could not say no to Zujan, but could to him, so it was all right.
Wintras moved slowly, enjoying the squeeze of Furn's body along his cock. Furn rolled upon his shaft,
riding him, meeting each thrust.

The boy behind him rubbed frantically. "Please, Wintras, may I?"

He nodded, words gone as his hand wrapped around Furn's cock.

"Oh..." New pressure, warm and slick and fine behind him, stretching him. He shuddered slowly as he
was filled, making Furn writhe.

The cushions were soft and slick beneath him, the skin against him like silk. Soon they were all moving
together again, panting and moaning, just another pile of moving bodies. It was happy, wanton, natural
and relaxed and heated. He moved faster, spurred on by his own pleasure, by the sounds of the boys
moving with him.

"Soon. Oh, lovelies, soon!" Someone cried out, someone else moaned low.

He shuddered, pushing hard into Furn as he came, his body shaking with the pleasure. They curled and
cuddled, rubbing and touching as they came down. He sighed happily as they stopped moving. "Oh.
Good morning."

He got a soft chuckle. "Yes. Very good."

He could hear some of the other boys still indulging and amazingly it made his prick perk up and try
again. "What does Zujan put in the water?" he asked, not quite believing his own enhanced libido.

"In the water?" He got a confused look, a soft kiss.

He shook his head. "It is just an expression." He smiled at Patricio and then at Furn. He had not thought
he would make friends here, but the boys were delightful. He got two giggles, noses and lips rubbing
against him.

One of the bells rang, sending one of the twins at the table by the door scrambling. Another took his
place, dragging out of a pile of six or seven slaves, hair mussed, eyes blinking as the lithe body stretched.
Wintras couldn't help himself, he moaned, his prick paying full attention.

"We should do your hair." Furn's hands petted him carefully. "Make you beautiful."

"You don't have to do that -- I can dress and groom myself. You aren't my servants."

"No. Your friends." Those pretty green eyes were shining, lips smiling as Furn pressed close again.

"Oh. Yes." He smiled back, hand sliding down along Furn's back to rest on the pert little ass. "I guess
friends might do such things for each other." They were going to make him forget why he was here and

who their Master was at this rate.

"We do. We're happy here, Wintras. We are."

"But you're slaves. You must serve Zujan and his guests when he asks -- that is not the same as playing
amongst yourselves by choice."

"No. Serving our master is a sweet luxury, thanking him for his care, his attention."

He snorted. Zujan had them well trained, their minds were his. "If you say so, Furn."

Furn chuckled, offered him another kiss. "My brother refused Zujan's offer and he is dead now, starved
and frozen, and I am with you."

He sighed. These boys were convinced Zujan had done them a favor. He doubted very much that he
would be able to convince them otherwise. At any rate, he did not wish to distress them. They had been
so kind to him.

"Should we do your hair, pretty Prince?"

"If you would like to, Furn."

"I would. You have hair like sunshine."

"Like gold." Another pair of hands tangled in.

"Patin!" He smiled at the boy who'd bathed him the other night. Their hands felt good. He could
understand why always being pampered by these sweet boys would be a temptation.

He got a grin and a giggle and a nod. "Bright morning, Wintras."

"Bright morning, Patin." He relaxed and let them touch him, indulging them and him both. Their hands
were warm and soft and sweet.

It was obvious they were healthy and happy, chattering away with each other and him. Despite that, he
was having a difficult time reconciling the benevolent Master they spoke of with the domineering dictator
of his experience.

Time would tell. He had nearly a moon before his promise was fulfilled. He shook his head, banishing
Zujan from his mind in favor of the pleasant company of the harem boys.

***

Tired. Goddess help him, he was tired, the magics eating at him, making him ache and itch, the flame
wanting out, wanting free. Zujan idly set the fire to blazing in the hearth, in the sconces, in the lamp. Furn
should be appearing any moment, the Prince in tow. The rumors were that his lovelies had done their job
well, touching and loving the Prince into satiation.

Sweet lads.

He was curious to see what Wintras' time in the orchard had done for that spine, for that stubborn
streak.

Furn led Wintras in by the hand, the Prince naked as he had ordered, body oiled, hair in braids with
beads wound through. The Prince's bronze skin gleamed in the firelight, the dark blue eyes shining at Furn
for a moment before turning hard as they moved to look at him. Nonetheless, Wintras bowed his head as
he stood with Furn.

"Quite lovely, Pet. Is this your handiwork, sweet Furn?"

"Oh, we all helped, Master. We had such fun!"

"Did you?" He held his arms open, enjoying the devotion in the bright eyes. The Prince's midnight eyes
watched as Furn ran into his arms, all happy laughs and gentle hands. He petted the slender body, teasing
and tickling and making the lad laugh. Wintras stayed where he was, stiff and silent as he and Furn played
together.

"You don't wish to join us, Pet?" He nuzzled Furn's jaw.

"I will do as you command, Zujan."

"Then come and play, Pet. Enjoy yourself." He waited to see what the proud boy would do, given such
orders.

Wintras' jaw clenched, his hands fisted for a moment and then relaxed, the long legs bringing Wintras to
them. A warm smile was given to Furn, Wintras' hands sliding along the slender body.

"Good boy." Furn reached for Wintras' hand, bringing it to his chill skin.

Wintras hissed, hand pulling away. "You should be beneath the blankets, Zujan."

"Perhaps you should warm me." His skin was as ice, but his pets bore it.

Wintras pushed Furn to the side. "Do not chill yourself little one, I will do it." The Prince's hands were as
fires, hot against his skin.

His eyes flew open, body jerking, pushing surprised into the touch. What magic was this? There was no
passion in the touch, or in Wintras' eyes, but those hands remained hot as they moved along his skin,
thumbs brushing his nipples.

"You will have to tell me what you want, Zujan." All of Wintras' ice was in his voice.

"I wish you to pleasure me. Enjoy the touches of our bodies."

"I will pleasure you, Zujan. And my body may betray me. But even your command cannot make me
enjoy it."

He growled softly. "Stubborn boy, must you try me at every step?"

"I am here, am I not? I am touching you as you bid me. You cannot have my soul or my heart, but until
the new moon, my body is yours."

"As if your soul is palatable, child." He rolled his eyes, wrinkled his nose. "Your acquiescence will
suffice."

"Should I continue?" Wintras asked, one eyebrow rising.

"You have not been told to cease." Aggravating boy.

Wintras rolled his eyes, but bit his tongue, hands moving on him once again, warm but impersonal. Furn's
hands joined Wintras', soft and sweet, cool, but gentle. One of Wintras' hands strayed to the lad, tender
and careful.

Furn chuckled, nuzzling into his throat. "My beautiful master..."

He stroked the soft hair. "Pretty thing."

Wintras watched warily, body stiff. He focused on Furn, on making the sweet lad need, reach for him.

Furn took one of Wintras' hands and slid it along his body. "Like before, Wintras. We can have such
fun."

"You have no choice in the matter, Furn."

"Have I forced you to be here, Furn?" The exhaustion weighed upon him like a yoke.

"No, Master, I want to be with you." Furn pressed against him, worry gnawing at the pretty face. "I told
you, Wintras. We have a good life."

"Don't hurt him, Zujan. The words are mine, the conclusions mine."

"Watch your tongue, fool. You accuse me of hurting one whom I have never laid a hand on!" The air
began to crackle with magic.

Wintras stiffed again, standing tall, towering over him where he sat. "Then why does he cringe? There
are more ways to hurt a body than by laying hands on it!"

He hissed, the room going chill. "Perhaps he cringes for he has the sense to know when his peer has
stepped beyond the bounds of good sense!"

Wintras gave him a cold smile, seeming composed, despite the goose bumps that raised on his skin.
"You always seem to resort to anger and threats when faced with logic, Zujan."

"You always seem to resort to stubborn fear when you find I may not have you completely unwilling,
Pet. You seemed to roll and cry out last night, cock buried in soft lips."

"That was my choice! I chose to give myself to those men, to share their pleasure and how dare you spy
on us!"

He pushed himself upright, the fire in the hearth blazing, ice crystals sliding along the bed. Furn crumpled
to the floor, whimpering. "You chose to submit to my will. I have been more than generous and you
refuse to honor your word. I can and I will and, until you learn to watch your tongue, Pet, you will live a
hard life."

Unlike Furn, Wintras responded to his anger with strength, snarling at him. "I have honored my word! I
have submitted. I have done everything you asked."

"You know nothing of submission, of control. You are a rude, arrogant, mouthy child who deserves a
beating." The fire roared, licking at the hearth now, a living thing. His fury filled him.

"Then send me home and you won't have to deal with me anymore. I did not ask to be here."

"You asked by your rude tongue and your lack of manners."

"I owed you no allegiance! You take what you want, do what you want and everyone else must bow
before you or suffer the consequences. You are a petty, little man and have done nothing to convince me
otherwise in the time I have been a prisoner here." Wintras shouted at him, hands balled into fists.

The curtains caught flame, the bedclothes, Furn's fallen tunic.

"Fire!" shouted Wintras, going to the tub that still sat near the fire and rocking it, tipping it over toward
the bed. Wintras grabbed Furn, next, pulling the boy toward the door. He sat, still and quiet in the midst
of it, ice cold.

Wintras' arms went around him, lifting him as if he weighed nothing and carrying him from the room.
"Don't just stand there, Furn! Call for help!"

He blinked up, empty inside as the fire raged. "I will set you aflame."

"I'm saving your life, Zujan, don't tempt me to throw you back." Wintras strode through the halls, holding
him, snapping orders at his staff, having one of them bring a blanket, another leading them to the
courtyard.

The rain began to turn to snow as the household worked to control the blaze. His head man, Lavan,
grabbed him from Wintras' arms. "My Lord? Are you well?"

Wintras left his side, joining the others at the fire, his sure, firm voice leading the efforts. Zujan nodded,
head lolling as he pulled the fire's energy back into himself, the flames beginning to die back. At last the
flames were gone, only one wing of his castle destroyed and no one had been hurt.

He stood, swaying just slightly. "I will be in the tower. Lavan? I will not be disturbed. Have the south
defenses shored."

"Yes, my Lord. What would you like us to do with the prisoner?"

Zujan couldn't think of the boy, not yet. "Put him to work, he seems useful. If he complains, hang him."

"Yes, My Lord."

Everyone was bustling and working around him, Wintras among them. He walked through the smoky
rooms, alone, small, cold, moving until he reached the stairs to his tower, his prison, his secrets.

Chapter Five

Nearly a week had passed since the fire and Wintras was actually beginning to settle in, almost enjoying
himself. He liked good hard labor and often indulged in it at home, so he was very happy to be put in
charge of the burnt wing. He rescued as much of the furniture as he could, but most of it was singed or

burned beyond salvation. Then he started tearing the walls out until he reached stone. He and a good
number of the staff washed the soot away -- he insisted they had to or the smell would never go.

He remained naked, Zujan not having ordered him dressed and none of the slaves willing to risk getting
in trouble. It didn't bother him though, not after the first few hours and by the time the end of his sixth day
came to pass, he was filthy and happy, working with the carpenters to rebuild.

Humming a drinking song under his breath, he made his way toward the kitchen for his evening meal.
The kitchen was bustling, the sounds of eating and talking and bubbling and soft sobs filling the air.

Sobs?

He turned to look at the cook, her red cheeks wet with tears, cloth wrung between her fingers. He went
and put his arm around her. "What's the matter, Mata?"

"O...o...our Lord. H...he's not e...e...eating." She sniffled, tears falling fresh. "N...no food. No word from
the tower. N...n...nothing!"

Wintras had been surprised by how much Zujan's people seemed to genuinely care for him, especially
the ones who had been there a long time like Mata. It was not just the boys that made up the harem who
seemed to love Zujan, to feel grateful to the man.

"Oh." He wasn't sure what to say. His own ire at Zujan was easy to put aside when he hadn't seen the
man in a week and was no longer living in the dungeons or being raped by Zujan's rougher people.

"He's a sorcerer, Mata, he won't starve." Gella, one of the head housekeepers, shook her head. "He'll
come down eventually, all pale and skeletal and fierce and then he'll be back to scaring the lordlings."

"He's skin and bones at his best!"

"He's powerful."

"He's alone."

"You spoil him."

He rolled his eyes. "Make me up a tray and show me where he is." Anything to keep Mata and Gella
from arguing. Or at least to keep him from having to listen to it.

"He's in the Tower." Gella pointed as Mata turned to make up a plate of delicacies. The lone tower
reached far beyond anything else in the castle, old gargoyles guarding the doors.

"All by himself?" He was starting to get cold feet. Why was he putting himself into Zujan's sights again?

Mata handed him a tray, giving him a teary-eyed smile. "He hasn't touched his food since the fire."

"I'm doing this for you," he told her pointedly. "Patin? Can you show me the way to the tower?"

"I can." He got a grin, a nod. "Are you going to see our Master?"

"I am bringing this food to Zujan for Mata, yes." He would not call that man Master. Even if the man
wasn't quite the monster he believed.

The boy wrapped himself in a cloak and started walking, chattering happily as they moved through older
and older parts of the castle, the tapestries here faded and ancient. He looked around with interest. He'd
never ventured into this part of the castle. It was pretty interesting -- he'd have to come back and check
things out later. It got colder the deeper in they went and when they reached the foot of the stairs, it was
positively frigid. He shivered.

"W...w...w...would you l...l...l...like my cl...cl...cloak?"

"You going to get in trouble if you give it to me?"

"N...no. G...g...gonna g...go back where it's w...w...warm." He got a grin and then he was handed the
cloak.

He wrapped it around himself, thankful it still carried a bit of Patin's warmth with it, and started up the
stairs. He went up. And up. And up. And up.

The higher he went, the colder it got until even with the cloak he was shivering. The stairs ended in a
huge black door, the wood frosted, ice forming on the stone. He put his hand on it, hissing at the cold.
He knocked. The sound echoed, the hinges on the door squealing like a boar as the door opened. The
room was huge, bare, the windows massive and open, the wind howling through the shutters.

"Whoa." He pulled the cloak tighter and stepped in. "Zujan? You really in here?"

Was the man insane? Or was this some trap to catch him in a new prison?

"I said I was not to be disturbed." The voice came from a dark corner, a mass of dark cloth hiding Zujan
from his eyes.

"I brought food." He walked into the room, the wind stealing his warmth, cloak flying out behind him.

"Leave it and go." The room was covered in scorched footprints, sigils, little piles of faeries sleeping on
the stones.

It was fascinating and he looked his full as he brought the tray over to Zujan. The little sparks were
littered about Zujan, the man hidden except for the black-black eyes. "Are you going to eat? Mata's in
tears."

"Mata is in tears more often than she's not."

"Yeah, well, she's right. You need to eat. I mean if you want to keep up your strength for terrorizing your
subjects and all."

Some of the faeries began to flutter. "Indeed."

"Look, take a bite and I can tell her you ate, okay?" He kept his eye on the faeries -- he remembered
seeing a lot of them right before the fire. Really, Zujan needed a better water delivery system if he was
going to set fires inside. Of course Wintras figured it would be prudent to keep that to himself.

One hand, blue and skeletal, the tendons and bones visible, took a berry, the fruit freezing and bursting
at the sorcerer's touch. Then a flash of heat flared, the berry melted and Zujan ate it.

Okay. That? Wasn't normal.

"Are you alive?" he asked.

"As far as I know, yes."

"What's wrong with your skin?" Why did he care? Why was he asking? Go. Run away. Get out of
range.

A soft giggle sounded, almost frightening. "I'm cold. I am waiting for my heat to build again."

"I could see your *bones*. That's not cold, that's... " He shivered. "Well, yeah, cold too -- you need a
fire in here."

Another laugh, Zujan's body shaking. "We had a fire. A big fire."

"Yeah. Okay. Whatever." He backed off, not even sure why he was trying in the first place. Gella said
Zujan always came down, besides, if he didn't, all these people were free. He was free. His family and
the outlying principalities were all free.

The faeries began to shiver, gathering together, forming something that looked like a body, like a flaming,
lean body.

Zujan snorted, "Fickle beasts. He cannot touch you."

"What are they doing?" It was fascinating, the faeries were fascinating. And a little scary. Okay, maybe
more than a little.

"Trying to seduce you. They're bored and want to go back down."

"Then why don't they?" They were kind of pretty.

"They cannot. They feed on me. If they move too far away, they dissolve."

"Feed on you?" He took a step back away from the faeries.

"Their life force must come from somewhere, Pet." The faeries shivered, stepped towards him, then
back toward Zujan. He started to back toward the door, the wind howling through the room. He didn't
want to watch them do whatever they did.

"Thank you for the meal, Pet." Zujan stood, gaunt, terrifyingly pale and small, arms held open to the
faeries.

"I'll pass that on to Mata," he murmured, continuing to watch with horrified fascination despite himself.

The flashing lights descended on Zujan, the swirling lights seeming to make the sorcerer appear tiny. He
stepped forward. "Zujan..."

Dark eyes met his, desperate, agonized. He went to Zujan, cursing himself as a fool and batted at the
faeries, pushing them away from Zujan. They dissolved as he touched them, burst into sparks. He
touched Zujan's arm, hissing at how cold the almost translucent skin was.

Zujan looked up at him, shaking, obviously frightened. "Who... who are you?"

The man was obviously delirious. Funny, Zujan also seemed so much smaller and non-threatening. He
reached out again, managing not to wince or pull back as his hand wrapped around the freezing arm.
"One of your slaves, Zujan. Come downstairs with me. Get warm."

"Warm? There is no more warmth."

Okay, Zujan was nuts. And living up here in this tower was not helping. He bit his lip, but knew already
what he had to do. It was not in his nature to refuse help to those that needed it. He bent and picked
Zujan up, heading back for the stairs. The man seemed to weigh nothing, light as a bird in his arms. The
wind picked up, screaming through the windows, making him shiver, making Zujan seem even colder. He
didn't bother trying to shut the door behind him as he exited, just headed down the stairs as quickly as he
could.

The faeries spun, trying to push against him, against Zujan.

"Go away," he growled, trying to push them away with his arms, hindered by his burden.

An angry hissing sounded, the faeries glowing brighter, the scent of smoke stronger.

"Leave him alone!" He moved faster, almost falling down the stairs, getting dizzy as they went down and

down and down. Zujan was so cold. Even through both their cloaks it was like holding a block of ice in
his arms.

They reached the bottom of the tower, the door slamming behind them. Zujan's eyes opened, the black
ringed with icy blue.

Well the man was alive. He took a breath, not having realized until now how tense he was about that.
Zujan dying would free him, but arriving in Zujan's kitchen with the man in his arms and dead would likely
have gotten him killed. He refused to consider any other possibility for why he might be happy Zujan was
still alive.

"The kitchen's the warmest room in the castle." He said by way of explanation as he strode through the
old halls.

"No. Too many people." Zujan pointed down an old hall. "There's rooms."

"It's cold here. You need a fire, food." He turned down the hall though. He could go for food, blankets.

"I'll make a fire." He got a wild grin, Zujan's eyes rolling.

He wasn't sure that was a very good idea -- after all, the place had nearly burned down last time Zujan
had made one. He didn't say that though. Besides, he wasn't convinced Zujan would be able to, the frigid
body seemed so weak. He pushed through the door Zujan pointed to, the room they entered small, but
clean. The fireplace was prepared, needing only to be lit, and there was more wood stacked next to it.
There was a large cushiony chair near the fire and a bed, all made up with blankets and quilts. Someone
had obviously been in here in the last weeks, keeping the place as if someone actually used it.

Who knew, maybe this was really Zujan's bedroom, the one gone up in flames just for show, for when
Zujan... entertained.

"Oh." Zujan smiled, relaxing suddenly, slumping in his arms. "Home."

Wow, this little place really was Zujan's room. Funny, how it was unimposing and small, nothing more
fancy than books and more books to decorate it. Even the tapestries on the wall were merely serviceable
rather than ornate.

He put Zujan down in the big chair and looked for something to light the fire. Light from the hall
flickered in and he headed back that way -- he could use the torch on the fire, if he could get it off the
wall. He heard something like a soft whoosh, the dim light from a fire stopping him in his tracks.

He turned back, watching the fire slowly build. "I wasn't sure you were going to be able to. You look
pretty done."

He picked up a couple of blankets from the bed and brought them over to Zujan. The sorcerer looked
tiny, young, curled in the chair, cheek resting on one arm. He wrapped the blankets around Zujan,
shaking his head at how cold the pale skin was. Zujan needed to be warmed. Body heat was the best for
that. Wintras bit his lip. Zujan needed food, too, if he went and got another tray, he could get a couple of
boys from the harem at the same time and they could lie with Zujan.

Full-body shudders began wracking the thin body, Zujan's teeth chattering. He couldn't not help. He
couldn't. Wintras pulled the blankets away and pulled off Zujan's clothing and then took off his own
borrowed cloak. Zujan was almost blue he was so white and when Wintras sat, taking Zujan into his
arms, Zujan was the coldest thing he'd ever held.

It wasn't natural and it couldn't be good.

He wrapped himself around Zujan and the blankets around both of them. "I don't understand how
anyone could be so cold and not dead."

"The magics. It's the... Oh. Sweet Velus in the Heaven. You're warm."

"That's not hard, seeing how cold you are." He pulled Zujan closer, hands stroking over the freezing
skin. He thought maybe Zujan was a little less cold now, though that might have just been the room
getting warmer as the fire began to blaze.

Zujan chuckled, head lolling. "Wait until the bar'cha start gathering in the hall. They can't come here. No
one can, without my permission."

He shivered. He'd just walked right in, he wasn't even sure if Zujan had been conscious at the time.
"Why do you let them do this to you?" Zujan was this powerful, terrifying mage who ruled by terror and
fire, it was hard to reconcile that image with the slight, freezing, vulnerable man in his arms.

"There are prices to pay for all things, Wintras. The more wonderful the gift, the more horrible the cost.
Surely you know this."

He shrugged, Zujan's words making him feel young and inexperienced. "I know you have to work hard
to get stuff done."

"Yes. I was born with this gift, born with a host of bar'cha hungering for someone’s body to..." Zujan
shivered, pressed closer. "They require sustenance, life force. They are the curse that comes with the
gift."

"Wow." He didn't know what else to say, so he just kept sliding his hands over Zujan's skin. The man
was definitely beginning to warm up.

A soft moan sounded, Zujan's eyes closing. He bit back his words of concern, confused regarding his
conflicted feelings. Pale and fine and delicate -- how could this man be the same one who ruled with a fist
of iron?

He closed his eyes and tried not to think about it, just held and rubbed and shared his heat with Zujan.
He could go back to being defiant and angry when Zujan was throwing his weight around again. Until
then, they would rest.

***

Warm. Quiet. Easy. Home. Oh, he must be home.

His mother had built this place for him, imbuing it with the last of her spirit, his father's magics gone mad,
the skin falling from her bones, offering him sanctuary. He had stayed in the room for years -- Cook
leaving food in a box that he pulled to him on the rope, Father watching and raging, screaming threats. He
had learned so much, read so much, learned control and distance. Learned that the world was vicious
and waiting to destroy him.

His father was the first person who fell to his flames, the army come to destroy his home the next.

Zujan stretched, memories irritating him, waking him. Warm hands, warmer than any he could ever
remember, slid along his arm, patting him.

Oh. Oh, sweet Velus. "So warm." He couldn't remember not being cold.

"Yeah, I think you're finally feeling normal. I didn't think your skin was ever going to warm."

He frowned, eyes blinking open to focus on his little Prince. Odd. He didn't remember inviting him in. "I
don't blame you. I didn't either."

"Are you okay now? Hungry? I can go get food from the kitchen." Wintras shifted.

Zujan nodded, forcing himself to sit up, pull away from the warmth, draw the veil of control around him.
There was something about this boy that ate away at his control. "You may go, Wintras."

Wintras got up out of the chair like it was on fire, face turning into the familiar mask of... disdain? dislike?
"I'll ask Cook to send someone with food."

"Don't bother. No one can come here." He wrapped himself in a cloak, stomach aching.

"You know you just have to ask and I'll bring it back myself."

Zujan nodded, moving over to the books against the wall, fingers trailing along the spines. He hadn't
needed to be in this room for so long.

"Are you... You'll be okay?" Wintras asked.

He closed his eyes, the scent of his mother's perfume somehow fresh, close. He wanted to be held
again, to be touched and warm.

"Zujan?" His name was whispered, Wintras suddenly at his side, tall and warm, one hot hand on his arm.

He sobbed, leaning into the heat, trying to catch his breath.

"Oh." Wintras' arms went around him, his Prince holding him, patting his back awkwardly. He shivered,
melting into those arms, refusing to think, to try and understand what this meant.

"You're cold again already." It sounded like an accusation.

"I can't help it." He shrugged. It was how he was.

"No wonder you're always in such a bad mood." Wintras froze as the words slipped from his mouth. "I
mean..."

Zujan blinked, then started laughing, tickled down deep, amused that this stubborn, angry boy would say
such a thing.

Wintras stayed stiff, though the Prince didn't try to move away. "I'm glad to find I am finally amusing
you."

"You will never be a diplomat, Prince. Although, I must admit that my own skills do not live along that
path either."

"I am simple like my people, Zujan. That is where my strength lies. In helping them, being one of them."

"We must all play to our strengths. Your challenge will be to hide your weaknesses."

The books caught his eye again, page after page teaching how to rule, how to control, tales of heroes
and villains.

"You mean like you do? Hiding how small you really are?"

Zujan nodded, not really even paying attention, then the words hit him. Being in this room made him
complacent. "I'm not that small."

"Sure. And I'm not your slave."

"You are here as a consequence of your own actions."

Wintras snorted and his arms dropped away, the long, warm body stepping back. "And you had nothing
to do with it."

"You cannot control me; you can only control your own actions." He could feel the fury, the frustration
again, threatening at the base of his spine.

"I would never dream of trying to control you, Zujan."

"Amazing. You do have a self-preservation instinct. Your father will be pleased."

Wintras snorted. "My father would have been pleased to have me return with him instead of my being
held prisoner here. Why do you still pretend you've done this to help me?"

He turned, heat leeching from him, fire blazing anew. "Because one day, Prince, your mouth will find you
beheaded and your lands lost, either to me or to another strong as I am."

"And if you and your ilk were not greedy warmongers, it wouldn't be an issue. My people have no wish
for war or more land and jewels. They wish only to be happy, left in peace." Wintras was back to the
stiff angry boy, glaring at him, dark blue eyes shooting a fire of his own.

"And the war that earned your father his crown? Are your histories so short you cannot remember even
a generation ago?" He would not have this. Not here. Not in his home. Not in his rooms.

Zujan moved through the door, through the barrier, the bar'cha flocking to him. They offered him
forgiveness, strength, the illusion of size.

All they asked was his soul.

Wintras followed him out, a look of disgust on his face. "Our wars are in the past, there is peace now. I
wish only to preserve it."

Soft voices hissed in his ear. *Send him away. He hurts us. Send him away, our love, and all the pain
and fury will fade. We will play again. We will call for the harem and have them warm us.*

Wintras shook his head. "I don't understand how you could let them do that to you. I don't care how
powerful it makes you, it's... " Wintras shrugged and turned his back.

He almost laughed. Let them? They were the first things he remembered, the lights surrounding his
world.

*Send him away.*

"Go home, Wintras. Go home and tell your father if I see him or you on my lands again, it will be war
and I will destroy every single human on your lands."

Wintras whirled back around, looking at him as if he expected to be struck down.

"Go? Just like that?" The Prince advanced on him. "What's the catch?"

"Go. If I ever see you again, I will bathe you in the fires of regret and let the bar'cha suck the marrow
from your bones. You are not welcome here." The words made the stones vibrate, his heart calling to his
mother and her need to defend him. "You are not welcome here."

"Your faeries don't scare me, but I will happily go and never darken your castle again." Wintras turned
and walked away, the Prince not running, though he could see the tension in the muscles, fighting the
desire to do so.

The last of his heat faded, turning his heart to ice, and he went to find his clothes.

He never looked back.

Chapter Six

"The castle is yours, Wintras. Have the treasures split three ways and send a share to Dumas and a
share to me with our cut of the crops and our split of the servants."

Wintras nodded at his father, the old man looking fat and pleased with himself, though Blethin and
Dumas had done no actual fighting, leaving that to Wintras and the men. "A king must survive to lead,

son." Personally, Wintras thought it was a sign of weakness, that a king wouldn't lead his men though
battle as well as into it. But then it seemed his ideas of ruling were far different than most. His time here at
this castle two years earlier had taught him that if nothing else.

A small contingent of guards was left as Dumas and his father led the rest in a triumphant march back
toward the northlands. They'd done it. They'd wrestled Zujan's lands from him. It had been surprisingly
easy.

The fire resistance they had all expected had never materialized and it made Wintras wonder what had
happened to Zujan. He told himself very firmly he wasn't worried, that if Zujan's slaves had turned on him
and killed him, the man only had himself to blame.

He ordered the guards to set up camp in the guardhouse, refused a personal body guard and
dismounted to inspect the staff. The castle was worse for wear, but the stones held. Most of the battle
had taken place in front of the gates until the last hours. The North and West borders had not been
guarded, both his father and Dumas were Zujan's pawns until Wintras had convinced them that bound
together, they could overcome Zujan's forces.

He walked slowly along the line of Zujan's slaves, recognizing most of them -- by sight if not name. He
stopped in the middle of them so they could all hear him. "If there's anyone here who wishes to return to
their home, you may do so." He looked from one end to the other, waiting for a response.

The staff looked from one to the other, the scantily clad harem boys holding one another, sobbing softly.
No one moved, no one spoke.

"Where's Zujan? Why didn't your master protect you?" Their beloved master, where was he now?
Wintras spit in the snow.

"Wintras?" A tall, pale man leaned forward, blinking. "Is it really you?"

"Furn?" Could this tall lad be the boy he had shared pleasure and friendship with? He nodded and smiled
at his old friend. "Look at you."

"Are you going to kill us all now, then? That's what they're saying."

"Who's saying that? Zujan? Where is he?" He looked into the scared eyes. "Come now, Furn. Is that the
kind of man I was?"

"No. You were the same as we are and you're not, not now."

"You think I have changed so much in two years?" Perhaps Furn did. The boy himself certainly had, still
slender, the man was now taller, face far more serious. "I always advocated that I was one of my people,
that I did not take slaves, that my people were free." He raised his voice. "None of you is beholden to
stay here. If you wish to work for me or for Dumas or Blethin in the northlands, you may. If you wish to
return to your homes, you may. No one will hurt you for either choice."

Dozens of eyes stared at him, blank and lost, exhausted. Then slowly the crowd dispersed, the majority
heading back into the rough-hewn stone of the castle, only the cook, the housekeeper and the butler
remaining in the rapidly falling snow. They looked older, drawn. Surely two days of fighting would not
have ravaged them so?

"Mata, Gella, Lavan." He inclined his head. "Are you choosing to leave?" Of all of them, he had hoped
these three would stay and help run the household, but he would not go back on his word because it
would be easier for him. He was not like that.

The women didn't answer, but the old man did, giving him a single shake of the head. "No, sir. We are
simply awaiting your orders."

"Oh. Okay. Where's Zujan?" He'd convinced his father to let him have the castle itself and some of
Zujan's lands so that he could repay the man in kind for how he was treated. Dumas and Blethin had both
been easy to convince, content to take their share of lands and treasures and not have to worry about
running a second household.

A long look was shared between the three of them then Lavan shrugged. "Dead. We buried him in the
spring."

"What?" The word came out shocked. He was shocked. Angry that his plans had been forfeit and...
upset. Of course he was upset, he wanted his revenge and he'd been thwarted. He wasn't sad that Zujan
was dead. It was a good thing. The man had been a horrible beast.

He ignored the flash of a memory of a thin, almost skeletal blue hand reaching out for a berry.

"He died. We told no one, afraid the castle would be attacked." Lavan stepped away, "The Captain of
the Guard acted as Lord and he died in the first volley against us."

"T...terrible luck, that. Terrible." Mata looked at the ground, hands shaking.

There was something not quite right here, though he couldn't put his finger on it. It seemed terribly
fortuitous that the time they had chosen to band with Dumas and make their attack on Zujan's castle
should be shortly after the man had passed on to the next realm.

He was tired, though, after three days riding and two of fighting, and dirty and these three were awaiting
his orders. "I'd like the castle to run pretty much as it used to. I will take a bath in the bathing room and
then choose a suite." He had one in the old wing in mind, with simple furnishings and lots of books.

"Yes, sir. Of course." Lavan led him into the castle. Inside the place was in shambles, evidence of
struggle and melee all about. His own men rested where Zujan's guard had been before.

"This needs to be sorted out, fixed. Lavan, let everyone have the day and the night to eat, rest, find
themselves again and then assemble them in the hall. We'll have the place back to glory in no time." He
grinned at Lavan, reminded of the days after the fire. "Just like old times."

"Yes, sir. I'll alert the staff. Your private bathing chamber is through here, sir. Shall I send someone to
bathe you?"

"I don't need a private bathing chamber, Lavan. And I don't need to be bathed." Still it would be nice to
see Patin again, perhaps Furn and Patricio. He had missed their easy laughter. "Perhaps the baths in the
harem will be used tonight? I don't want to put anyone out, tired and despondent as you all seem."

Lavan gave him a vaguely horrified look. "I will send the harem to you, my Lord. You need not bathe
with them."

"Lavan. I am not the master you are used to dealing with. I do not put myself above you or any of the
people who work for me."

"But you are the Lordship, here. You must show your strength."

"By treating people as slaves?" He didn't understand this need for the person leading to be elevated
above all others.

"By taking your due, my Lord."

He sighed, too tired to fight over it tonight. "Look, I just want to wipe the grime and blood of the day off
me, have something refreshing to eat and drink and go to bed."

"Of course, sir." A pair of gilt doors was opened, a copper bath being filled with bucket upon bucket of
heated water. "I will send someone with your meal."

"Make sure enough is sent so that whoever must bring it is also fed. I want everyone to have a good
evening. To be well rested and ready to work together tomorrow." Something still wasn't right, it was
niggling at him, but he was too tired to worry it out. He just wanted to be clean and fed and rest his head
on a bed instead of in a cold, snow-covered field.

"Yes, sir. I'll send Furn for you, if I remember you were close." Then the old man disappeared,
deceptively fast for his age.

He felt suspiciously as if he'd been fobbed off onto Furn and the bath to keep him occupied. He let it go
as he stripped his cloak and leggings off and climbed into the tub, moaning. Oh, it felt good. The water
worked its magic, relaxing him, easing him. Furn entered in short order with a tray full of bread and
roasted game, a huge flagon of ale. "I have your food, my Lord."

"Oh Furn, call me Wintras. Please." He reached out for the boy. "Come and share the tub with me. You
look like you could use it."

He got a shy, quiet smile, Furn setting the tray within reach and discarding the familiar tunic and sliding in
the water.

"You've changed," he said softly, reaching to cup the still smooth cheek.

"I have, so have you. Have you missed us?" Furn nuzzled into his touch, eyes closing.

"I have thought of you often. Dreamed of this day when I would come and rescue you, give you your
freedom."

"I do not understand you, my Lord. I was never a prisoner."

"I know you don't think so, but I never saw how you had any choice." He lay back tired and weary and
more than a little upset he couldn't take Zujan prisoner. Make the sorcerer pay for using these sweet
boys, for using him.

Those soft hands washed him, caressed him, the sounds of fire and water sweet. He let himself be
pampered, told himself that he was different from Zujan because he hadn't asked for it, because Furn
wanted to. It was fine hairs he was splitting, but he was tired. Why was it he was always so tired here?
Always at war with himself and Zujan...

"Would you like some food, some ale?" Furn's voice was soft, gentle.

"If you'll eat with me, yes." He stroked Furn's cheek again, finding the same peace and ease with the boy
he'd found when he'd been held here against his will.

"I will." A chunk of bread was torn off, dipped in the dark, spicy stew and held to his mouth.

He took it, lips sliding along Furn's fingers. It was good, and he nodded for Furn to fed himself as he
chewed. Furn ate with him, feeding him the lion's share, holding the mug to his lips. He petted and
stroked Furn, feeling his body, now washed and fed, look for the next thing it needed, his cock growing,
Furn's soft skin and gentle hands in no way discouraging his need.

"Do you want me, my Lord?" Furn cuddled, hands sliding up along his belly.

"Only if you desire it, too, Furn. I will not have you unwilling. I will not order you to pleasure me." His
own hand worked after all, he did not need to force others to bring him pleasure.

"I am not unwilling." The long shaft slid on his thigh.

He moaned softly. "Then yes, Furn, I want you."

He took the thin face in his and looked into the pretty eyes before bringing their mouths together. Furn
slid to straddle his thighs, body moving into his, rubbing, something in the water making them slide. He
moaned and slid his hands around Furn's waist, setting up a rhythm that made the water slosh around
them.

Furn's cock was heavier than he remembered, the heat of it was like a brand along his belly. He shifted
them, moaning as their shafts came together. Furn's gentle hands wrapped around both their pricks and
Wintras' breathing sped as his hips moved, sliding his shaft within Furn's hands.

It wasn't long at all before Furn's eyes widened, a soft cry filling the air. The prick alongside his throbbed
and his own responded, his balls going tight as he came. Panting, he lay back against the side of the brass
tub, the sloshing water slowly going still.

"So strong. So warm. Been wanting to be warm..." Furn's arms draped around his neck.

"Don't you boys still keep each other warm?" Wintras asked, hands sliding on Furn's skin as he
remembered the piles under the covers in their sleep chamber.

"The master's favorite doesn't sleep in the harem, remember?"

Wintras stilled, the words catching his attention. "Of course. You sleep with the master." Which meant
that Zujan was alive. Why hadn't the man come to his own defense? Where was he now?

"Mm-hmm. Does that mean I'll sleep in your bed, my Lord?"

"It means you'll take me to Zujan!" He stood up, reaching for one of the thick cloths left near the tub for
drying. Why had they lied?

"My Lord?" Furn looked devastated, lost.

"I wish to see him and I will not be lied to anymore!" He was angry, too angry to reassure and coddle.
Not that Furn deserved to be coddled -- he'd participated in this lie. Wintras had come here to free these
people and instead they had banded together to protect the man that enslaved them.

"See who, my Lord? Who do you wish to see?"

"Zujan." Now the boy was just stalling.

"No one may see him, the lights took him. He has not fed, not moved." Furn stood, water dripping from
him.

"Where is he?" he asked, rewarding Furn for the information by placing the drying cloth around the boy's
shoulders.

"The last time I was with him, he was in the tower, but they moved him, else the stones froze and
cracked during the heat of the summer."

"Do you know where, Furn?" He would have his revenge, he would. Teach Zujan a lesson of his own.
Served the man right, having those weird little fire faery things freeze him all up.

Furn shook his head. "You have nothing to fear from him. He does not speak, does not move. Simply
stares."

"I am not afraid of him!" Wintras bristled. He had never been afraid of Zujan. Is that what they had
thought? How could they? If he had feared Zujan he would have bowed and offered the man his ass from
the first and he never had, never without protest and under an oath unwillingly given.

"I will see him, Furn. If I have to search this entire castle from dungeons to tower, I will see him. I am
your master now and it is my due." They were so eager to do as their master desired, let it work for him
for a change.

"I don't know where he is. I sleep in the big bed, alone. I have since the spring rains." Furn came to him,
eyes worried. "Please, my Lord. Come to the bed, warm me?"

"Fetch me Lavan first." He believed the boy didn't know, Furn had never given him a reason to believe
the boy was a liar. But he was not ready to let this drop. While the castle and lands were nice, Zujan was
his reward for having led this battle and freed the lands from Zujan's control. Furn nodded, hurrying
away, fluttering.

It was an eternity before Lavan returned, giving him time to pace and explore. The bathing area was
huge, cabinets filled with pile after pile of furs and cloth, oils and unguents.

"There you are at last! You lied to me -- Zujan is not dead and buried! I demand to be taken to him
immediately." He would not give Lavan a chance to lie to him again.

"My Master is dead." Lavan's jaw was firm, stubborn. "I will not allow the body to be defiled."

"I am your master now, Lavan. Where is my due?" And Furn had said not dead. Lavan continued to lie
to him. Once he had this solved, it would be time to cut Lavan loose. He did not demand that people
serve him against their will, he paid his servants and didn't keep slaves, but he expected their loyalty and
honesty in return.

Lavan waved his hand. "I am no longer in your employ, my Lord. I will not be a part of Zujan's
desecration."

"Then leave. Right now." He strode past Lavan and began to make his way through the castle. He would
find Zujan's body himself. The staff scattered before him, seeming to find place after place to hide, to
disappear.

He headed for the tower first. That was where Furn had thought Zujan to be and he knew it would make
a good hiding place. He'd never have thought to look if he hadn't already been there once before. As he
climbed the stairs the cold grew harsher, making him wish he'd stopped to get clothes. But he strode on,
determined.

A wall of pure ice blocked the top of the stairs, a blinding swirl of colored light distorted behind it.
Damnit, the man was still up there.

He was going to get rid of the whole lot of them who worked here, send them to their homes or to
Dumas or his father for work. He had no loyalty to people who were not loyal to him. He started to hit
the ice, searching for a place where it was thinner, where it might be starting to crack.

Furn appeared at his elbow, shivering, shuddering. "My Lord?" The boy had boots, clothing, a cloak. A
hammer.

He grinned suddenly at the boy. "I knew there was a reason I liked you, Furn." He put on the clothing
and took the hammer from Furn. "If you're too cold you may go back down."

Furn nodded. "I'm scared. I don't want to be up here."

"Go then. Do you know the old wing? Do you know which room is Zujan's?"

"Yes. No one can go there, my Lord. The magic keeps everyone away."

"I've been there. Have blankets and food left at the door, and mead. And make sure the torches near the
door are lit so that I can light the fire. Then go to the harem and warm yourself with the other boys.
You've done well, Furn, thank you."

"Yes, my Lord. Thank you." His cheek was given a soft kiss, Furn hurrying away.

He watched for a moment, thankful at least one of Zujan's people remembered him fondly. Then he
turned to the wall of ice and began to attack it with his hammer.

The lights got brighter, swirling, buzzing. Stupid, nasty faeries. He'd as good as warned Zujan against
them when he'd been here last. He worked harder, the ice-wall beginning to crack and fall beneath his
blows.

It wasn't until the first hole appeared and the faeries started pouring through that he realized that they had
been helping him, fighting to break free. It made him wonder if Zujan really was dead, if they were so
eager to abandon him. He batted away any that came too close and worked harder to pull the rest of the
ice barrier away, shocked to find the air coming through the hole even colder than the stairwell.

There was nothing left in the room -- just hundreds of flickering and fading lights, groups snarling and
huddling here and there. There was a pile of clothing near the iced in window.

He frowned, pulling his cloak more tightly around him. He was doubly glad Furn had brought the
clothes, it was freezing, an angry wind howling and trying to pull his cloak from him despite the fact the
walls and windows were covered in ice with not a hole anywhere to be seen. Had the faeries... eaten
Zujan? The man had said they fed from him, though Wintras had not thought that was literal.

He strode over to the pile of clothes, bending to pick them up, see if they held some clue. A skeletal,

ice-blue body fell to the ground, the clothing sagging and huge. The black hair had become streaked with
strips of pure silver, eyes open and staring. He might have made a very undignified squeaking noise and
jumped about three feet in the air. But there was no one there to see, so perhaps he only shouted upon
the Great Halna to preserve him.

Zujan was dead it seemed. He went to Zujan's body, touched a cheek as cold as any ice. Those eyes
shifted, blinking once, making him gasp and stumble backwards. By all that was holy! How could Zujan's
staff, who purported to love him so, just leave him like this?

Or perhaps it was their way of breaking free of Zujan's rule, to let the faeries take him and leave him...
caught in the cold. It was no wonder the man did not come to the defense of his lands.

Wintras bent and took Zujan into his arms again, hissing at the cold. It hurt, even through the layers of
cloth that separated them. Ignoring the pain, he began the long journey back down.

Chapter Seven

The faeries fought Wintras every step of his way down the tower, battering and slamming into him, trying
to rip Zujan's body from his arms. He just ignored them though, surprised that their fire didn't burn him; in
fact the cold of Zujan's body was far more painful than the faeries who seemed to spark and turn to
ashes as they touched his skin.

He was dizzy again by the time he reached the base of the tower, the faeries still working at him, though
it was still the warmth sucking cold of Zujan's body that was far more likely to make him drop his burden.

The faeries joined together, tiny sparks buzzing and sliding together, forming a being, a body.
"Ssssssssssssssstop."

He did, for a moment. "Why?"

"Oursssssssss. That one issssssssssss oursssssssssssss."

He snorted and ploughed through the undulating shape the faeries had formed. "Oh no he's not. He's

mine."

The hissing got louder, closer, his clothes smoldering in spots as his footsteps echoed on the stone. He
ignored them, striding down the hall, relying on his memory and then Furn's footprints in the dust to lead
him to the right room.

"No." The word was soft at first, then louder and louder. “Nononononononono
NONONONONONO!"

"Go away!" He shouted, relieved when he saw the door to Zujan's rooms, blankets and a tray on the
floor in front of it. He remembered the faeries couldn't get in there. Of course Zujan had also said no one
else could either, but he'd managed well enough last time.

He opened the door and stepped, unmolested, across the threshold. The faeries slammed against some
barrier, flames flaring to life, the ones closest dissolving into sparks.

The room hadn't changed at all since the last time he'd been there and he put Zujan in the big chair by the
cold fireplace before going and tugging the tray and blankets into the room, closing the door behind him
and blocking out the angry buzzing of the faeries.

Evil, disgusting things.

Zujan looked like a marionette, still and watching, pale and painfully small. He remembered the fire and
went to grab a torch, pushing through the faeries that tried to bar his way before shutting them out again.
He lit the fire, adding some more logs so that it burned hard, warming him through.

There was a creaking, a soft moan, then a clatter as the thin body toppled from the chair, landing in a
heap by the hearthstones. With a startled cry, he went to Zujan and picked him up, holding the icy body
close. "You need to get warm."

Skin on skin would work best, he knew that, but Zujan's skin was still so cold...

Those eyes met his, only the barest awareness in them, so lost, so agonized. He sighed and put Zujan
back in the chair, stripping down to skin, first himself and then Zujan. He told himself that he didn't want
Zujan to die because he wanted to take his revenge on the man. The man who was all bones, the skin so
pale it seemed translucent, the only hint of color where his own hands had touched. He tugged the chair a
little closer to the fire and sat in it, holding Zujan close and tugging the blankets close around them. The
painful cold eased slightly, the heat seeming to be drawn from his body.

"I don't understand why you let them do that to you. I know you said that's the price of your magic, but
no magic is worth your life." He shuddered at the thought of letting the faeries do that to him. He received
no answer, no movement, just the shallow hint of drawn breath.

"Well I suppose I shouldn't complain. We captured your lands you know. Dumas to the west and my
father to the north. Banded together and attacked and you were so busy feeding your disgusting little
faeries that you couldn't do anything to foist us off." He rubbed his hands along Zujan's arms; there was
definitely some warming happening. "This castle is mine now and you are my prisoner. Our fortunes have
reversed. I think you will find that I am a far kinder Master."

The tiny sorcerer seemed to shrink even further, the pale eyes closing.

It was hard to be angry and nasty to this small, almost boy-like man in his arms. Without his magic,
Zujan seemed innocent and powerless, more like the boys from his harem than the kings and princes and
dukes of the surrounding lands. It confused Wintras. It twisted his anger and his desire for revenge.

He tried not to think about it too hard and just held Zujan close, warming the little sorcerer with his own
body.

***

Someone was speaking to him, but he could not bring himself to care, to understand, to answer. There
was nothing but the sensation of heat and cold. Heat outside of him, chill within. An endless circle. The
sounds continued, on and on, scented with oils and heat.

How he ached, deep within.

Movement and a sudden loss of the warmth jolted him. He opened his eyes, the universe watery and
blurred, unfamiliar, almost painfully bright.

"You're awake." The warmth came back, the world shifting once more as he was pulled close to it. "Are
you hungry? All this cold is making me starve."

He looked up, trying to focus, to understand. Hungry?

"Or thirsty? The mead should help warm you." Something was pressed against his lips, but he made no
move to take it in and the warm voice tsked. A moment later hot lips pressed against his own, liquid
pushed into his mouth. The flavor shocked him, scared him, but he swallowed convulsively, hands
opening and closing again and again. The warm lips finally released him. "There, that should help."

Help? It was fire inside him, burning and sliding and sharp and good.

He was rocked, pulled close to the heat with hands that were like brands. Oh. He cuddled in, eyes
closing, the steady beating under his ear a comfort. There was a long sigh and then the words started up
again.

"I don't want to like you. I don't want to feel sorry for you. You're supposed to be my enemy, who I've
vanquished and now I get to lord it over you like you lorded it over me."

Oh. Vanquished sounded less than fun. He really wasn't sure if he was supposed to care. He supposed
he should.

"Come on, Zujan, warm up already. I'm tired and cranky and you're colder than the snow."

"Kill me." The words surprised him at first, although they shouldn't.

"What?" The warm body holding him went stiff.

"Kill me." He was so tired.

"No!" The word was adamant.

He sighed, damn.

There was a soft laugh. "I didn't understand why you insisted I stay alive, but I guess now I do. You
won't escape me that way."

Escape? He didn't even know where he was, who held him, who he was or why he should escape. The
warm hands went back to sliding on his skin, inexorably warming him. He curled into himself, the heat
sinking deep, warming his blood, allowing it to move. His... captor? savior? kept holding him, talking
softly, bringing him back to life.

Eventually he blinked up, long gold hair catching his attention. He reached up, petting it, watching it shine
in his fingers.

"What are you doing?" Dark blue eyes looked into his own.

He frowned, considered. "Touching."

"Oh, don't tell me you've been addled in the cold." The owner of the dark blue eyes sighed. He pulled
his hand back, hid it under his own hair. Another sigh, those hands sliding on his skin, so hot. So very
hot. "Will you eat? Or take more to drink?"

He shook his head. No. No, he was tired. Sore. Lost.

"Okay." He was cradled against the warm body once again, a soft humming sounding. He thought
maybe he recognized the song as a lullaby his mother had sung to him once.

***

Wintras held Zujan until the slender body was warmed through and in the throes of sleep. At least he
assumed it was sleep, Zujan having woken, spoken. It was possible Zujan had been delirious, but there
was little he could do about it.

He found himself dozing and decided to move to the bed. He deposited Zujan there first, building the fire
up again so that its warmth filled the room. Then he returned to the bed and Zujan's side. Zujan didn't
seem so fierce a sorcerer now, with his too thin limbs and his pale as snow skin. The only color aside
from the blue veins visible through the pale skin was the swatch of black -- Zujan's hair. It was shot
through with white now, more snow than earth and the curls around Zujan's cock were white, barely
visible against the pale skin.

A shiver wracked the slender body and he climbed in and curled around Zujan, surprisingly protective.
He didn't understand this instinct to protect and nurture Zujan, but it was strong and he was too tired to
fight it. Zujan moved toward him, low little sounds filling the air. He tucked Zujan in close, the sorcerer
fitting perfectly into his body. Now that Zujan was warm instead of cold, his body began to notice just
how well Zujan fit, just how soft the pale skin was.

He cursed his cock as it began to firm.

Zujan's cheek was on his shoulder, breath soft and gentle, warm. It felt. Good. Like with Furn, only...
Zujan was his equal, not a servant. Except that he had been Zujan's slave.

Wintras whimpered, ashamed of his confusion.

Zujan shifted, frowning, scooting even closer. He soothed Zujan automatically, hands sliding down along
the slim back, murmuring "shh." The actions eased the pale sorcerer, the long dark lashes brushing his
skin, sensitizing it. He shifted again, his cock sliding along the soft, warm skin and he closed his eyes, his
own body betraying him as the pleasure rippled through him. Again, Zujan snuggled closer, rubbing
harder.

He moaned, body thrilling to the touch. He could not blame the water or Zujan's magics either, for he
was the Master now.

The pale eyes blinked open, staring at him. "You're warm." Husky and soft, the voice didn't sound like
Zujan's.

He looked back, Zujan's eyes the color of ice water. "You are now, too."

"Yes. Thank you." He got a smile, peaceful and warm.

This wasn't like Zujan at all and his confusion intensified. "Do you know who I am?"

"I... You said you didn't like me. You said I was your prisoner."

"Well... I don't and you are." He tried to say it firmly, but his hard cock was rubbing against Zujan's
belly...

"Do you know who you are?" he asked suddenly. Zujan might not remember him -- could the man go
through so many nobles as pleasure slaves that he would have forgotten? -- but surely Zujan should
remember who he himself was.

"What?" Those eyes blinked up, curious.

"Who are you?" he asked again.

"I..." Zujan frowned, thought. "I am... Tired. I am tired."

He nodded. "Yeah, me, too."

It was likely late. They should sleep. Hopefully it would all make sense in the morning. And if not, at
least he'd be rested to deal with it. He tucked Zujan into the crook of his arm, petting the slender back. It
was awfully cozy quarters for his enemy, but he could hardly leave Zujan out in the cold to freeze up
again.

He wasn't supposed to be thinking about it.

He closed his eyes firmly.

***

He woke, warm and held close. It felt like a distant magic. He opened his eyes, vision clear and sharp.
Bright. The room was familiar -- like something he'd seen in a book once, a faded picture. He slid from
the blankets, wandering idly from the hearth to the shelves of books, finding a heavy fur to wrap around
him.

The long body on the bed stirred, hands reaching out, searching restlessly. He hummed, drawn to the
motion, returning to the bed, fingers touching those hands. His companion stilled immediately, fingers
sliding two twine with his own, a soft smile playing over the handsome face.

"Mmm..." He crawled close, wrapping the furs about both of them, cuddling in. Warm.

Strong arms wrapped around him, tugging him against the long body and dark blue eyes opened, looking
down at him. He smiled up, fascinated for a moment by the dark, the colors, so pretty. "You're so
different. Like being frozen changed you."

"Am I? I haven't been warm in so long."

"You were frozen, Zujan. The faeries had all but killed you. They're still outside, trying to get in, angry I

brought you here. They can't have you though - you're mine now."

"Yours..." He nodded, yes. Yes, that would be fine. He could belong to that heat, that strength.

The man looked surprised. "Just like that? Do you still not remember me? Do you remember yourself,
Zujan?"

"I remember..." He frowned. "I remember ice. I remember the faeries, the bar'cha eating until there was
nothing left but my breath."

His companion shook his head, frowning, staring down at him for a long moment and then one shoulder
shrugged. "I am Wintras. You are Zujan. You belong to me now and the faeries -- the bar'cha? -- they
can't have you anymore."

"Good." He reached up, stroked Wintras' face, soothing the frown away.

Wintras smiled and brought their mouths together, tongue pressing into his mouth as he was rolled onto
his back. He peeped, lips parting, hands sliding into the heavy hair. Wintras' body was long and hot,
cock hard as it slid against his thigh and nudged his balls. He wrapped his legs around Wintras, cuddling,
eyes still caught in midnight blue. Wintras rubbed against him, mouth devouring his, tongue pushing in. He
opened, moaning low, swallowing hard. So good. Felt so... big. Long fingers stroked along his neck,
down to play with his nipples.

"I..." He arched, body moving into the touches, shivering so hard.

"Cold?" murmured Wintras. "You always were."

Wintras rubbed against him, sliding and hot, hands touching him all over.

"Not with you. You warm me. Your hands..." He stroked Wintras' hair, petting. "So pretty."

Wintras smiled. "I like you like this. You remind me of the boys you enslaved."

He thought, trying to figure out what that meant. Was he a slave? No. No, a prisoner. But he had always
been a prisoner of some type. Always.

Wintras' hand slid down and wrapped around his prick, tugging lightly. "I wonder if bringing Furn here
would remind you of who you are."

"Furn?" He took a deep breath, legs moving restlessly.

Wintras nodded, hand working him. "Your favorite."

"Oh." His favorite what?

Wintras kissed him again, tugging on his cock, making him feel good. Heat blossomed in his belly,
making him jerk, toes curling. "You feel good, Zujan. Soft and silky."

"Soft. I don't feel soft..." No. No, he was hard. So hard. Wintras chuckled and kissed him again, thumb
pressing into his slit. He gasped, eyes wide, heat pouring from him, pleasure making him ache.

"Oh." Wintras gasped softly. "You're beautiful when you come. I didn't know that."

"That... oh, oh that was... so good. So warm..."

"Mmm... your turn. I want you to pleasure me with your mouth."

"How?" He'd seen that, he knew he had.

Wintras frowned at him. "How? Are you telling me you can't remember sex either? You're no virgin,
Zujan."

"No. I can remember, like it was someone else, like it was a story told to me."

"Yeah? Must be from being frozen for so long. Like, almost a year." Wintras' fingers slid along his
cheek. "You can tell me about what you remember. After my pleasure."

He leaned into the touch, nodding, letting Wintras' hands push him down towards the long, hard shaft.
Wintras was beautiful, a strong chest and muscled belly, trim hips all smooth and golden, the curls around
Wintras' cock the same color as his hair. He nuzzled them, breathing in the musk and heat of Wintras,
humming.

Wintras lay back, legs spreading. He tugged the furs around and over, cuddling beneath them, tongue
slowly exploring Wintras' sac and shaft. Wintras' hands slid along his face, into his hair. It was warm
here, and quiet, only the rustle of the furs and the beat of Wintras' heart and his own breath.

Wintras shifted, pushing that long prick toward his mouth. He lapped at the tip, purring at the flavor, at
the heat. Wintras moaned. "Oh, you do remember how to do this."

He tilted his head, continuing to lick and touch. He remembered feeling this, tasting this. Wintras' cock
jerked and pushed up into his mouth again as Wintras' hips bucked. He backed away a little, swallowing
and gasping.

"Sorry," muttered Wintras. "Felt good."

"You taste good."

"Then keep tasting."

He chuckled, licking again, tongue dragging over the tip of Wintras' cock. He was rewarded with a low
groan. Oh. That was good. He licked and nuzzled, sucking softly. Wintras made another sound, the
muscles in his thighs trembling, but not bucking. He stroked Wintras' leg, fingers loving the warm skin.
Those long fingers returned to his face, tracing his eyelids, his nose and cheeks. Humming, he took more
and more in, sucking harder, wanting more touches, more flavor.

"Oh, Zujan... more. Please." Yes. Yes, Wintras. He bobbed his head, sucking, moaning.

"I need to move, Zujan..." Wintras whimpered, legs shifting.

He nodded, fingers twining with Wintras'. Another whimper and Wintras started moving, hips pushing,
slowly at first. It felt scary, but warmed him, made him suck harder, need more.

Faster and harder, Wintras took his mouth, pushing into him again and again. He held on to Wintras,
anchored by their hands, by their heat.

"Oh!" Wintras cried out, the cock in his mouth throbbed and seed poured down his throat. He
swallowed, blinking hard, the excess sliding down his chin. Wintras relaxed back into the bed with a
groan, fingers going lax in his hold. He burrowed under the furs, resting his cheek on Wintras' thigh.
Wintras' hand wrapped around his arm and tugged. "Come here, Pet."

"Pet?" That word echoed inside him, distant and odd.

"It's what you called me. What you called all your boys. I thought it would suit you."

"Oh." He chuckled, settled against Wintras, reaching down to tug the gold curls around the quiescent
cock. "You're fuzzier than me."

"Have you ever shaved down there? You'd look beautiful totally naked."

"Shaved? Why?" He looked at his snowy curls, the odd dark strand scattered through. "Were they all
black, when you knew me?"

"They were. So was your hair. And shaved because," Wintras' hand slid around his prick, fingers
carding through the curls. "It would be sexy." He buried his face against Wintras' shoulder, hiding,
snuggling. Wintras chuckled. "I don't know what to make of you, Zujan."

He shrugged. The bar'cha took so much, gave so much. Once they fed from him completely, they took
the parts they needed and left... him.

"Well I suppose it will have to wait. The castle repairs need to begin today. I have to find a replacement
for Lavan and see if there are any others who would like to follow in his footsteps."

"I will stay here." It wasn't a question, this was where he belonged.

"No. You will stay by my side."

"No." They were out there, waiting for him, hungry for him and he wasn't strong enough.

"You are no longer in charge here, Zujan. I am. You will stay with me."

"No."

"Yes." Wintras' voice got hard.

"No." The fire blazed in the hearth, his heart going chill.

"I won't argue with you, Zujan. You are coming with me." Wintras got up, glaring down at him.

He shook his head, refusing to back away. They would be starving, starving for him. Wintras grabbed
his arm and dragged him out of the bed, heading for the door. He curled into himself, body sliding against
the floor, legs drawn up under his chin. Sparks flew, all his heat escaping him. Wintras picked him up,
tossing him over a shoulder and carried on.

The bar'cha swarmed, fastening onto every inch of bare skin, daring and hungry. Each touch made him
ache, sent memories slamming through him.

"Get away from him!" Wintras shifted him back down so he was plastered against the long body, hand
sliding along his back, dislodging the bar'cha.

"Take me back." He looked up, eyes rolling. "Please, don't let them have me..."

Wintras backed into his room again, the faeries screaming as they went beyond the invisible barrier that
protected this room. He whimpered, shaking hard, frightened down deep within.

"Damnation! You should have told me why you didn't want to go with me." Wintras held him, back
against the shut door, so warm against his skin.

The places where the bar'cha had touched were pale, blue, cold to the touch and he pressed closer.
"Sorry."

"Do you still say your magic is worth this?" Wintras asked, hands slowly rubbing over his skin.

"Worth?" He shook his head. "I... They have always been here, always."

"Horrible beasts. They need to be destroyed before they take you for good."

"Destroyed? I don't know how. No one knows how." He pressed closer. "My mother created this room
for me as her body burned, to keep me safe."

"Oh. Painful." Wintras tugged him closer. "It explains a lot of your attitude."

"I..." He shrugged. "I can't remember not having them."

"I don't like them. I don't like them at all." Wintras carried him over to the bed. "Will you be okay if I
leave you?"

He curled up, nodded. "No one can harm me here."

Wintras nodded. "Well I suppose I don't have to worry about you getting away from here either, do I?"

"I want to stay here. These are my rooms."

"No, Zujan, they're my rooms now, but I'll let you stay."

He looked over at Wintras. No. No, these rooms had his mother's spirit soaked into the stones. If
Wintras was here, it was only by her permission. "She lets you stay."

"Who?"

He chuckled, closed his eyes. "The Lady Tralane."

"The Lady Tralane?" Wintras' eyes narrowed. "I've heard that name..."

Oh, it felt so good to be home, to be warm, to be safe. Cosseted.

"Who is she?" Wintras demanded.

"A great sorceress. Magical and beautiful."

"Well I don't see her now, so I don't see how she has anything to do with my staying." Wintras did look
a little disconcerted though.

"I can't see her either." He smiled, breathing deep, breathing in his mother's perfume.

"You're insane," murmured Wintras. "The faeries truly took your mind."

He lifted his head, blinking. "No. No, they took what they'd made of me; they took the thing they made.
I have my mind. Not them. Not you. Me."

Wintras snorted. "You certainly don't sound like you have your mind, Zujan."

Well, then, he would stop sounding like anything at all. No one said he had to speak. No one at all. He
would rest and read and plan, wait. Wintras watched him for a moment; he could feel those midnight
eyes on him. Then the man snorted and left, the sound of the door closing over the angry buzz of the
bar'cha a relief.

He scooted over, locked and bolted the door, then went to find a hidden stash of dried fruits and olives
and wine that he had kept here.

***

Having to fight his way through the angry buzz of faeries at the door to his quarters did not help Wintras'

humor in the least. Truth be told, he was feeling childish and petulant enough that he happily spent an
extra few moments swatting at them, pleased to see them dissolve into sparks and ash at his touch.
Beastly, nasty things. And considering how Zujan behaved when not under their influence, they deserved
each and every pejorative he could find for them.

At length he grew tired of killing them and his stomach began to growl loudly, so he headed down to the
kitchens, knowing it would be as good a place as any to start assembling the staff for the clean-up.

He tried not to think about Zujan too much because it confused him and made him angry. The hard part
was supposed to have been winning the war and getting into the castle in the first place. Once that feat
was accomplished, he would torture Zujan in the same manner he had been treated to during his stay.

Which wasn't how it had worked out at all.

The battle had been quick and far easier than anyone expected and Zujan... well Zujan was not the man
Wintras had escaped. Wintras didn't feel right treating the bewildered and obviously not whole boy as if
he were the monster sorcerer Zujan. But what if it was all an act?

It made his head hurt and he resolved to concentrate on the matter of bringing the castle to rights first.
He reached the kitchen, stomach growling loudly at the scent of breakfast cooking.

Mata looked over, eyes going wide. "My Lord! Furn said you were in the tower. I was trying to figure
out how to get your food to you."

"No, I have taken Zujan's old rooms. You may have my things, my meals sent there if I do not come for
them myself." He stole a sausage from the plate she was fixing. "I need a replacement for Lavan, he took
leave of his post last night."

"No one survives those rooms, sir. They're haunted, have been since the Great Lady passed away and
left wee Zujan behind in them."

"Don't tell me he has you believing that claptrap nonsense as well, Mata!" He shook his head. "I've had
not one problem in those rooms, though Zujan himself is quite off his head at the moment, I believe that

has more to do with those awful fire faeries of his than any 'haunting'."

"Tis not nonsense! Every person who was attempted to enter those rooms has been repelled."

"I've just spent the night there, Mata. Unless you're calling me a liar."

Those eyes went wide, Mata pale, but she shook her head. "No. No, my Lord. Of course not."

"Good. There's been quite enough of lying. I know the master is alive. He is in my rooms and won't
come out for fear of those stupid faeries. Have one of the boys bring up more food and mead later today.
If he insists on continuing this fiction that he cannot go in the room, he can leave the tray by the door and
I'll bring it in with me." He took the plate Mata fixed him and sat at the table, eating heartily. "Any
thoughts on who would make a good butler, Mata?"

Mata shook her head. "I... I... most of the guards are gone, most of the valets left long ago.

"What about Furn?" The boy had been more than helpful last night, taking the initiative even. And he
knew Furn was loyal.

"Furn? The harem boy?"

He chuckled. "He's a smart lad."

"The castle is yours, my Lord." Mata shrugged, smiled at him, eyes tearing. "Things are so complicated."

"Not really. I am master now instead of Zujan. You are paid servants instead of slaves. We'll have the
place set to rights quicker than we did when Zujan set it on fire."

"You'll need to refill the stores, my Lord. The armies burned the wheat, the grain, set the cattle free."

He rolled his eyes. Idiots. He would speak to his father, barter some of their share of the treasure for
food. "How long before we run out of food, Mata?"

"A moon, perhaps two, depending on whether you hold a mid-winter ball and how many people leave."

"Oh, we don't need a mid-winter ball. I don't need the sycophants Zujan had." He made a face. He'd
definitely talk to his father. Perhaps make it a condition on Blethin's piece of the treasure getting to him.
After all, it had been Dumas’ and Blethin's soldiers who'd burned the stores.

"It'll be fine, Mata. You don't need to worry."

She nodded. "Thank you, my Lord. We've been so lost without Zujan's help."

"I'm surprised you didn't all take off while you had your chance, make good on your freedom." He
polished up his plate, patting his belly as he drank what he assumed was the last of the milk. "Get the
farmers to go searching for the cows. They'll not have gone far, I'll wager."

"We were never slaves, my Lord. We were well cared for."

"Yes, yes, I know. Zujan the wonderful." He rolled his eyes and got up. He didn't really want to hear
more of how wonderful Zujan was right now. Not when he was already so confused about his feelings
for the sorcerer.

Mata chuckled. "That wasn't what we called him, my Lord."

"No?"

She winked, "We called him the Ice Flame."

"To his face?" he asked. He couldn't believe they would have, not and survived unsinged.

"Of course not!" The woman looked horrified.

"I thought not. You'd have been killed if you had. Or sent to his dungeon or laid out between the trees in
the orchard to be taken by whoever happened by." There was bitterness in his voice, his anger stronger
now that he was no longer faced with Zujan's changed personality.

"I'm sure, should you stake him out now, there would be a line to take him." Mata's voice was cold,
quiet. "He was much wanted."

He shook his head. "No, he's mine." He was surprised at the vehemence in his own voice.

One grey eyebrow rose. "Yours?"

He nodded. "I thought he should discover what it feels like to be taken slave." That, after all, had been
his reason for returning here in the first place. He dared not examine that vehemence.

"Oh." She blinked.

"I am the master now, I could take you all as slaves if I wanted. But I don't, I'm not like that. You are
free to go if you want. But Zujan held people against their will. It's his turn now to be the pet." He would
not be guilted into letting Zujan go. Not by the man himself, no matter how innocent he now appeared,
and not by Mata or anyone else.

"Yes, my Lord. As you wish."

It did not make him like Zujan, it did not. He held his head high. "We should start the repairs. Have the

staff gather in the main hall and I will organize them."

"Yes, sir. Right away." Mata nodded, bustling off.

He poked his head in the oven, smiling at the site of a cake and several pies. He was appreciating
Zujan's insistence on having the best, that was for sure. Then he wandered toward the hall, ready to lose
his worries in good, hard physical labor.

***

Zujan heard the sounds of banging and working all around him. He didn't pay attention, choosing to curl
into his chair with his furs and his book, dozing and reading and relaxing. The door was locked and he
wasn't ever opening it again.

Of course, there was a hidden door leading to the kitchen, which was good for stealing a pie or a pot of
cream and berries.

Mm... berries.

Someone tried the door. Then they knocked. Then they knocked again, louder this time.

"Zujan! I know you're in there!"

He wrinkled his nose. Go away.

"If you don't let me in, I'm breaking down the door and then all your buzzing friends will go mad trying to
get to you."

The bar'cha couldn't get in. Still, he liked his door. He pushed his chair over to the door, slowly, the

furniture so heavy.

"Zujan. I mean it." A loud thump hit the door.

Meanie. He put his chair against the door. Maybe the furs, too. And the mattress. There was another
thump and then everything went quiet.

He stopped, listened. Wintras wouldn't have just given up...

Sure enough, moments later came the sound of an axe on wood. He blinked. "That's my door."

"Open it or lose it, Zujan. Either way I'm coming through."

"No. It's my door." He climbed up on the chair and opened the tiny window, peering. "Go away."

Wintras was standing there, wearing only a pair of short breeches, covered in sweat and dust,
woodchips in his hair. "I've got Furn coming with bathwater and food. That room is mine now. Unlock
the door, Zujan, I'm not going anywhere."

"I..." He wrinkled his nose a little. "This room is mine."

"Not anymore. Now it's mine and I let you stay." Wintras stepped back and hefted the ax again. "If you
aren't going to open it step back."

He frowned, shaking his head. Maybe he should run. Maybe he should take the secret tunnels.

"Damn it, Zujan." Wintras swatted at the bar'cha who'd come near and then let the axe fly, the door
splintering. It wouldn't take too many hits.

He panicked, heart pounding. "Stop!"

Wintras looked up at him. "Open the door."

He nodded, pulling the chair away. Meanie. Mean man.

The door pushed open as soon as he unlocked it and Wintras swung the axe again, the lock flying as it
was separated from the wood. "No more locking me out of my own room."

"It's my room."

Wintras shook his head. "I'm master here now. It's my room."

"No." He was going to have to move the bed against the door next time. "It was created for me."

Wintras shrugged. "It was, but now it's mine. Ah, here comes Furn and the boys with our bath and
supper."

He wandered back to his furs and his book. The boys couldn't enter. No one could. Well, no one but
Wintras. Meanie. When that proved to be true, Wintras manhandled the tub in himself and filled it up with
the water buckets the boys brought. "You could at least let Furn in. He's always been loyal. And it's
thanks to him I found you and got you out of the tower."

He looked over, arched an eyebrow and went back to reading. Like he controlled the space.

Wintras glared at him. "Fine, I'll figure it out myself." Wintras cleared his throat and spoke in deep tones.
"Let Furn in."

He rolled his eyes, went back to reading about the Battle of Gertan. Mean and silly.

He could feel Wintras' gaze on him. "He's worried about you, you know. Wants to bathe you and feed
you himself, to know that you're really all right."

"I'm sorry. I'm not leaving." He really wasn't too sorry. The bar'cha were out there.

"So let him in." Wintras looked at him as if it was as simple as that.

"I can't."

"Of course you can. You let me in."

"No I didn't. You came in."

"Then how come Furn can't?" Wintras sounded very frustrated.

"I don't know. Why would I know?" Stupid questions. Bah.

"Zujan!" Wintras growled. "Don't make me take you out of here."

"What? I don't know. It's not my magic. I make fire." He frowned and set one of Wintras' shoes aflame.
Wintras yelped and stamped out his shoe. Then the man stomped over and threw him over one wide
shoulder and carried him out the door.

He closed his eyes, the bar'cha swarming, buzzing, their need ravenous, each touch pure agony. He
wouldn't scream. He wouldn't. It felt like it lasted forever, but then Wintras brought him back into his
room and tossed him onto the bed. "Damnit, Zujan!"

He curled into himself, face buried in his knees, heart breaking. His mother had promised he would be
safe here. She had promised. The bed dipped and Wintras' hand slid on his back, warm and soothing.
Frozen tears slid down his cheeks, insides aching.

"I'm sorry, Zujan. That was uncalled for. I... you frustrate me."

He nodded, slowly uncurling and sitting on the edge of the bed, chilled deep inside. "Are you going to
take your bath?"

"We are. You haven't had one in months you know."

He nodded again, waiting until Wintras moved toward the tub before dashing out, running straight into
the hallway, into the faeries' embrace. His mother had deserted him. His home was lost. His memory was
lost.

The cold could have him.

Chapter Eight

"Zujan!" Wintras turned at Furn's shout, seeing the boy trying to get to Zujan through the faeries, but
Furn was scared, the faeries making his clothes smoke and leaving singe marks on his skin.

He strode over, pushing the damned faeries away and grabbing Zujan, pulling him back into the room. It
wasn't easy, the faeries screamed and seemed to tug against him, trying to keep Zujan to themselves. But
he was determined and they couldn't hurt him. Furn watched with wide eyes and as he dragged Zujan
back beyond the barrier the faeries couldn't cross, he ordered Furn to come in with the tray of food and
close the door.

"But I can't!"

"You aren't going to harm Zujan; that seems to be the spell’s trigger. Come in."

Furn's eyes filled with tears, the boy shaking violently. "Y...y...y...yes, my Lord."

Then Furn closed his eye and ran, the barrier in the door seeming to stretch and bow, then judging Furn
worthy.

He grinned, pleased to have finally figured something out. "Look, Zujan, your room has let Furn in to
help us."

The body in his arms was limp and cold and he curled up around it on the bed. "Set the food down and
come help me get him warm, Furn."

Furn stood for a minute, shaking. "I... I'm not dead."

"No, Furn. You aren't dead. I told you things were going to be different now." He petted Zujan, hands
sliding along the cold skin. It hadn't taken any time at all for those nasty faeries to pull all the heat from the
little sorcerer. "Come to bed, Furn."

The tray was put down and Furn pushed under the furs, hissing as he touched Zujan. "So cold."

"We'll warm him up, Furn." Wintras reached out and included Furn in his embrace, holding them
altogether. "Try rubbing his skin."

Furn reached out, petting gently. "Come, my Lord. Come and wake for us."

"You care about him a great deal, don't you, Furn?" He was beginning to learn that these people weren't
staying because he'd freed them and started paying them. They were staying because they cared for
Zujan, they truly did not feel themselves badly treated. He might have to rethink his opinion of Zujan.
Well. That was a given after the events of last night and this morning.

"Of course I do. He took me in when I was starving. Gave me a family, friends, clothes."

"It's more than that though, isn't it?"

Furn smiled up. "He protected us. Taught us."

"This whole experience has been very confusing, Furn. I was so sure I knew what I knew."

"I..." Furn looked around, leaned closer, whispered. "It's them. They change him. That's what everyone
says. They eat and eat and eat and he gets bitter and cold. Then he rests and hides away from them and
is... himself again. But they call to him and he was made to feed them."

Wintras shuddered. "I hate them. They're disgusting." How awful, to be forced to endure the nasty little
faeries over and over again. He wasn't sure the power and magic was worth it.

Furn nodded, petting Zujan gently. "Poor thing. So alone."

"Yes, I suppose he is." Which he thought was Zujan's own fault, really, the way he treated people.
Except that didn't fit with his recent discoveries. Damn it all to the ice, Wintras hated being pulled in so
many different directions, it made his head ache.

Zujan whimpered softly, cuddling into him. He petted the fine, pale skin, feeling it slowly warm under his
fingers.

“Oh. My Lord. I've missed you. You've been gone so long..." Furn's voice was low, encouraging.

"Come on, Zujan. The poor boy has been bereft without you."

Furn giggled, eyes dancing up at him.

He chuckled. "You haven't been bereft, Furn?"

"I've missed him. I've worried. He's been so cold."

"Well he's warming up just fine now. You're a good man, Furn." He petted Furn as well as Zujan. He
might have gone insane had it not been for Furn's kindness and soft touch when he'd been prisoner here.
Furn leaned over and kissed him, the act sweet and honest.

Making a happy noise, he kissed back, tongue sliding on Furn's lips. His hands though, continued to pet
Zujan, the stroking becoming less about warming Zujan and more about sex.

Zujan stretched, frowning, body sliding against his. He ended the kiss with Furn, guiding the boy's mouth
to Zujan's. Furn kissed Zujan softly, fingers trailing in the soft, dark hair, petting. He watched, knowing
how good those fingers felt, the sweet, soft touches. He added his own, hands occasionally straying to
touch Furn as well.

Zujan's eyes opened, so pale, so confused. "Furn?"

"Yes, my Lord."

He let the honorific go unchecked. Zujan might be his prisoner, but he was feeling less vindictive now,
mind opening up to other possibilities.

"But the door..."

"It let me in, my Lord. Safely."

Zujan's eyes filled with tears, the lids closing, hiding them away.

"Whatever magic protects this place knows Furn would never hurt you."

"She allowed you in. She has forgotten me."

"Yeah? Well she hasn't let anyone else in. Or those sick little faeries." He still wasn't sure who she was.

"She hated them."

Wintras continued to stroke Zujan's skin. "I like her already."

Furn smiled over. "You make his skin warm."

"You helped, Furn."

Furn shook his head. "No. I have touched him a hundred times. He does not warm for me. See?"

Furn reached down, hand sliding over Zujan's hips, the skin a pale blue. Then his hand was drawn
down, the skin icy, but warming, remaining pale, but flushed with life. Wintras frowned. "It makes no
sense."

"What about life makes sense?" Zujan's voice was husky, low.

"Things should make sense," Wintras insisted.

"Nothing makes sense. Nothing ever has."

"I like things to make sense." He didn't want to let it go. He didn't want to have to reexamine everything.
Order was good. Knowing where you stood was good. Maybe that's what he'd been objecting to the
most with Zujan, never knowing where he stood.

Zujan chuckled. "That is why people need rules. So they can pretend things make sense."

Wintras pouted. Was he truly just the naive boy Zujan had thought him? Possibly.

Furn leaned over and kissed his pout, smiling and quiet. He let the sweet kisses soothe him, body forcing
him to take notice of the fact he was lying naked with two lovely men. He rubbed against Zujan's ass,
going back to touching Furn and Zujan both. Zujan leaned towards Furn, the sweet man caressing and
petting, humming low. He lay back, fingers going to his own body, stroking his cock as he watched them
move together.

Furn slowly smoothed Zujan's hair, the black and silver strands tangled and rough. "You need a bath, my
Lord. A nice bath and a meal and loving."

Wintras nodded. "All three of us could use that. The tub is big enough to share, if we sit close."

Furn nodded to him. "His skin needs care -- the cold was harsh to it."

He grinned at Furn. "I bet you have all manner of creams for him."

"Of course. His skin is finer than silk itself." He stroked Zujan's skin and then Furn's. Zujan's was indeed
softer, almost fragile. Zujan made a soft sound, rippling.

He bent and kissed Zujan's neck. "Come on. We'll all feel better once we're clean and pampered, fed."

Furn helped Zujan up, wrinkling his nose as he touched the water. "My Lord? The water is cold."

Zujan sighed, the air in the room suddenly frigid, the bathwater steaming.

Wintras frowned, noticing the shiver that went through Zujan. He touched the pale skin, finding it cool to
the touch again. "We could have called for a few more buckets of hot, Furn."

Furn blinked up, confused. "He always heats the water..."

"It hurts him, Furn."

"Oh." Furn shook his head, whispering. "Then why would he do it?"

He considered that a moment. "Because you ask him to and it's his duty to provide for his people." He
turned to Zujan. "Right?"

Zujan nodded, drooping slightly, whether in exhaustion or relief, he wasn't sure.

He picked Zujan up and climbed into the tub. "Join us, Furn. We'll all wash each other and then cream
each other up with those special silky making creams you talked about."

He had to admit the water was just perfect and he lay back, with Zujan floating in front of him. Furn
stayed close, pouring fine oils into the water, smoothing it into their skin.

"Climb in, Furn," he insisted. "You worked hard today, too."

Furn stripped down, climbing in happily, snuggling into his side. He had an arm around each, feeling
relaxed and pampered, fingers stroking soft silky skin. Furn petted his belly, then slid closer, reaching for

Zujan.

"Love him," Wintras murmured, feeling for the little sorcerer. "He needs you."

Furn's mouth covered Zujan's, the action practiced and eager, sweet, Zujan moaning, opening. His prick
began to rise as he enjoyed the two of them together. They were indeed lovely, bodies knowing each
other. Furn's hands rubbed over Zujan, Zujan's fingers trailing down Furn's spine.

"Pretty," he murmured. How had he missed this when he'd been taken prisoner here? How had he not
seen the beauty of their lovemaking?

Furn smiled up at him, eyes shining. "Thank you."

Zujan's tongue slid along Furn's shoulder, making the boy shudder. And Zujan didn't just take in this, but
gave as well. Wintras remembered suddenly the sorcerer's tongue pushing into his body, making him fly.
He groaned, hand sliding down to wrap around his cock, eyes on Zujan. They pushed together, sliding
and rocking, legs tangled together. He worked his cock, enjoying their pleasure. The water began to slide
from one side of the tub to the other.

Furn shifted them so that Zujan was against his thighs. "The wood will bruise him."

He laughed softly, reaching around to stroke both their cocks. "You take such good care of him Furn."

"Someone needs to, he takes terrible care of himself."

Furn ducked his head as Zujan glared, waggling one finger. "Don't make me pinch you."

"Hey, he's being nice to you, no pinching!" Zujan and Furn both chuckled, the sounds remarkably
similar. He suspected they were laughing at him, but didn't want to press it. They were all feeling good,
his prick was hard, he just wanted to float through the rest of the evening. "Don't stop," he spoke quietly.

Furn purred and those hands dropped, circling Zujan's shaft, his own. "So warm together."

It was warm. And good, and very sexy. He stroked himself slowly, just enjoying the way he felt,
watching them. They moved together, pushing and rubbing, low moans filling the air, Zujan's passion
lovely, Furn's cries sharp and sweet. Suddenly he wanted to take Zujan, to lay his claim to the sweet,
pale body; Zujan could take his pleasure in others, but ultimately he belonged to Wintras. It made him
whimper, it confused him and yet felt so right at the same time.

Zujan's buttocks slid against his thighs, soft and silken as the sorcerer shifted. He slid his hand from
around his own cock to Zujan's crease, the oil in the water making the glide of skin on skin slick. He
gently pushed at Zujan's hole with his index finger.

Oh. Oh, so tight, unbelievably tight. Zujan gasped, shifted. Surely the man wasn't a virgin in this. Perhaps
though, he was. Wintras gentled his finger further, but did not stop, slowly teasing his way inside Zujan.
Those icy eyes met his, wide, wanton. He moaned, finger sliding all the way in, held tight and hot within
Zujan's body.

"Hot..." It was true. Zujan blazed inside, so good.

"Yes." He moved his finger in and out, letting Zujan get used to the sensation before he slipped a second
finger in to begin stretching.

"Oh..." Zujan shifted, moving against him, almost pulling away, but not quite. Furn caught his eyes, look
questioning.

He stilled his fingers. "Is there a problem?"

"No." Furn smiled at him. "I've never seen... Not with him. What should I do?"

"Tell Furn what you want, Zujan."

"Come kiss me." Zujan pulled Furn close, pulling away from his fingers. His hand followed Zujan though,
fingers searching and finding that place inside that should feel so good.

"Oh!" The cry pressed into Furn's lips, the fire in the hearth raging suddenly.

He jerked, startled by the fire, and froze. "Zujan?"

"Sorry. Sorry, that... It was so big." Those eyes flashed up at him, stunned. "I didn't expect it."

"Has no one ever done this for you?" he asked, the words echoing in his head.

"No." Zujan pinked, sliding away from them both, away to the edge of the tub. "I'm done bathing."

He frowned. "But we haven't done pleasuring each other." He sure hoped Zujan didn't think he got to
pick and choose in this. Because he didn't. No more than Furn or Rall or he or any of them had the
choice in the end when it had been Zujan who had ruled.

"I'm cold." Zujan crawled from the tub, shivering and pale.

"Then we should warm you up." He nodded at Furn to get out as well and grabbed a blanket, wrapping
it around Zujan, lifting the slender body up and carrying the sorcerer to the bed.

Zujan curled into his arms, hair heavy and wet against his side. "You confuse me."

He laughed. "I confuse you? That makes us even, I guess because I am more confused by you than I
have ever been before."

"That's fair, then." Zujan winked -- actually winked at him.

His smile was genuine and he rubbed Zujan's limbs through the blanket to get rid of the drops of water
on the pale skin.

"Let’s eat. That way we can continue after and just stay in bed and go to sleep."

Furn nodded. "There is bread and ale and roasted meat."

"And something sweet to tempt us after?" He knew Mata had been cooking pies and cake.

"Berry tarts." He heard Zujan's stomach growl. Laughing again, he laid Zujan down on the bed, climbing
in next to the sorcerer and pulling the covers up. "Bring the trays and join us, Furn."

Zujan relaxed into the pillows, eyes closing, looking so small, so pale, so lovely and odd. The feelings he
had for Zujan now were all mixed up with his anger and fear from his last stay here, but the tenderness
and care refused to be pushed away.

Furn settled on the bed, balancing the tray. "If you fall asleep, my Lord, you'll starve."

"He won't fall asleep, we have to play still." He sat against the pillows and drew Zujan against him,
tickling to make sure Zujan wasn't thinking of falling asleep.

Zujan wiggled, giggled softly. "Wintras!"

He chuckled. "Yes?"

"Stop it. That... Stop."

He laughed, tickling a moment longer before stopping, letting Zujan catch his breath. Zujan's giggle was
sweet and light, made him feel good.

Furn looked over, shaking his head. "You make him seem... young."

It was true. At the moment Zujan did seem young, younger even than himself, maybe even younger than
Furn. "How old are you?" he asked, snagging a piece of roast from Furn's tray.

"That's complicated. I... I remember your father as a boy."

"What?" He pulled away slightly, looking down upon Zujan's face. Surely not, the sorcerer looked no
older than Furn, certainly not older than his own one and twenty years. And yet.... he could not
remember a time when Zujan's name had not been mentioned with much fear and loathing.

"This body was born not long ago, but the man Zujan has lived for generations..."

The faeries outside the barriers were buzzing, furious. That would help explain the conflicting feelings he
held for Zujan, why he couldn't reconcile the different facets of the sorcerer. "And you have all his
memories?"

"Some. They have him. They... They are him."

"Those faery things you mean?" He shuddered, unable to hide his dislike. It was no wonder he hated
Zujan so, but was feeling tender toward the boy in his arms. "Do you have a name of your own then?"

The boy shook his head. "I don't think so..."

"Would you like to be called something other than Zujan?" he asked, handing the sorcerer the bread.

"My mother called me Sartis once, but..." Zujan looked at the swirl of light outside the door and paled,
fingers squeezing the bread. "My name is Zujan."

"I like Sartis." It didn't have the connotations of Zujan and it suited the pale boy here with them now.
"Eat. Drink. Furn's right -- you don't take care of yourself."

Furn stood, took a blanket and tacked it up, hiding the hints of lights showing through the somewhat
battered door and Zuj... Sartis relaxed, eyes returning to him, bread lifted to pale lips.

"They can't get you in here, remember?" He slid his hand along Sartis' side. "I won't make you leave
again."

"I... Yes. Yes, I remember." Sartis ate, taking the cup of ale from Furn and drinking deep.

He ate his fill, watching Furn and Sartis eat, the way Furn found the choicest pieces of meat to feed to
Sartis. By rights, those were his due, but he was happy with what he had, content to watch Furn pamper
Sartis. It wasn't long before Sartis shook his head, "No more, Furn."

Furn found a little tart. "No?"

"Oh. I like those..."

He bit back his chuckle. "Feed him from your mouth, Furn," he said instead. Eager to satisfy his other
hungers now that his stomach was fed.

Sartis' eyes flashed up at him, playful. "Giving orders?"

"I am." He'd never said he wouldn't give orders. He was quite good at it.

Furn's fingers slid along Sartis' jaw, a bit of tart in the soft lips. Sartis took it, licked the juice from Furn's
mouth.

He moaned, prick firming again at the sight. "Yes..."

Furn put a little bite in Sartis' lips, then turned the slender jaw, offering him Sartis' mouth. Bending, he
licked the crumbs from Sartis' lips before closing their mouths together, taking the sweet from the even
sweeter mouth. Sartis gasped, lips parting, letting him in. He lapped at the insides of Sartis' mouth,
watching the ice-blue eyes watch him. Sweet and soft and hot and it made him harder. He rubbed against
Sartis.

A soft moan filled his mouth, Sartis leaning toward him. He half turned Sartis, cupping the sweet ass and
rubbing them together. The sweet body melted against his, soft and warm and eager. It felt good, spurred
on his need, made him want, not just a warm body, but this warm body.

Furn took the tray away, pulled the furs up around all of them, cocooning them in soft heat. He tugged
the other boy to flank Sartis, to keep the warmth centered around the slender body. His own prick was
leaking now, needy, wanting. They all moved, hands and mouths and shafts rubbing and touching. He
touched Sartis, Furn, always knowing whose skin was beneath his fingertips, Sartis unbelievably soft, like
living silk. Sartis' mouth surrounded one of his nipples, Furn's hand on his shaft, all of them moving and
bucking.

He found both their cocks, taking one in each hand and hefting, squeezing, feeling the heat and hardness
of them beneath the velvet skin. Furn's hips moved fast, pushing the heavier cock against his palm while
Sartis rolled, languid. He moaned, the twin sensations making a sweet fire lick up along his spine.

Sartis' teeth scraped, tongue sliding over the tip of his nipple, sensitizing it. He cried out, bucking,
pushing up both boys. Furn gasped, hand moving faster, grip firm. He pulled harder on the pricks in his
own hands, thumbs sliding across both their slits, pushing in. Both bodies pushed against him, twin cries
filling the air.

They were beautiful in their need, faces wanton, a flush covering their skin, even Sartis' pale silk a light
rose. Furn lifted his face for a kiss, hand tugging his cock. He gave it, eager, body shuddering as he
neared his climax. Furn spent first, heat spreading over his hand, a soft cry filling his mouth. He continued
to tug, his own hips bucking as the sound and scent of Furn's completion brought on his own. Sartis

whimpered, gasped, body arching into his touch.

"Your turn," he whispered, bending to kiss the swollen lips. Sartis purred into his lips, then rippled, seed
pouring over his fingers, so hot. The sorcerer was magnificent in his pleasure, icy eyes hot, sightless for a
long moment. He slowed his hands, bringing both boys down slowly.

Sartis seemed to melt, cuddling into the furs, eyes closed. Furn stroked the dark hair, humming. "That's
right. Sleep."

He added his own touch, the tender feelings returning full force. He let them push the anger and fear and
desire for revenge away and curled around Sartis, holding his arm out for Furn to join them. Together
they cradled Sartis, the thin hands reaching to tangle in his hair. He smiled, cuddling in, comfortable and
quiet.

He could sort out this whole Zujan/Sartis/faeries thing in the morning.

***

The bar'cha were calling him.

He could hear them -- crying and begging, threatening and hissing and promising. They needed him and
they would wait forever, waiting until he couldn't bear the noise or the room and then...

He slid from the bed, pulling the cloth from the door and staring out at the colors, the heat.

*Come out.*

*We miss you.*

*We're so hungry.*

*Please, love. Please, come out.*

He whimpered, shook his head.

"Zujan! I mean Sartis. What are you doing?" Wintras called him from the bed.

"They... They want me..." He stroked the door.

"Furn and I want you. And we'll keep you warm. We won't try to eat you."

He turned, blinking at Wintras' open arms. "You look warm."

"I am. Come back to bed." The bar'cha fussed, but he nodded, hurried over and pushed into those
arms. So warm. So good. Wintras held him close. "Those faeries are evil, Sartis. Stay away from them."

"I try." He sighed, happy and warm, held.

"I would have thought it was easy -- they hurt you, make you cold." Wintras fingers slid along his skin.

"They talk to me. They lie. They make promises."

"But if you know they lie, why do you believe their promises?"

"They... They are the oldest thing I know. Like family. They get inside me..." He didn't know how to
explain it.

"I want to be inside you," Wintras murmured, one hand sliding down to his bottom.

He blinked up. "I haven't ever..."

"Has Zujan ever?" The long fingers moved along his crease, the touch light and teasing.

"No. They wouldn't let anyone inside. Never. Only them." He pressed closer, shivering, rubbing.

"I want to be inside you," Wintras repeated, midnight eyes looking into his own as the very tip of one
finger slid into him. He squeezed, the sensation foreign, interesting. Wintras moaned softly. "Oh... yes."
The finger wiggled and pulled away before nudging him again.

"I... I feel you..." His heart was pounding furiously.

"I hope so." Wintras smiled at him, finger pushing in a little and then a little more.

"I..." He couldn't catch his breath, didn't know what to do.

Wintras brought their mouths together, lips sliding over his as that finger moved slowly in and out of him.
The kiss distracted him, relaxed him, the action familiar and warm. Wintras' tongue teased along his,
sliding, twisting, dancing, the finger inside him an echo. He forgot to be frightened, arms sliding around the
warm shoulders, body moving. Wintras hummed into his mouth, making the kiss vibrate between them.
Giggling and moaning, he looked into midnight blue eyes, fascinated.

A second finger teased around the edges of where the first disappeared inside him and something slick
slid from the top of his crease down his body to coat his skin, those fingers. He squeaked, but the oil
eased the way, the touch setting a fire within him. Those eyes held his, heated and dark and that second
finger pushed, pushed, entering him, stretching him.

"Oh... Hot." He swallowed, thighs parting.

"So hot." In and in and then suddenly pleasure so sharp it was almost pain. Oh. He jerked, eyes rolling,
energy spiking within him.

"Yeah," whispered Wintras, bringing their mouths together once more as those fingers pushed inside him
again.

He cried out, searching for those dark eyes, half-panicked, half-lost in sensation. They were there for
him, watching him, holding him as that bright spark lit along his spine again and again, Wintras' fingers so
undeniable inside him. "I. I. Help me. Please..."

"Sh... I have you, Sartis." Wintras' fingers parted inside him, stretching him. He gasped, hips moving
instinctively. Wintras moaned and more oil slid over his skin, Wintras' fingers sliding easier. His skin
tingled, his body aching, alive. "Now I know where your fire comes from. So hot inside."

He smiled, unexpectedly pleased, leaning into Wintras' warmth. He couldn't believe it when Wintras
pushed another finger into him. How could three of those long fingers fit inside him and yet, they did,
stretching him to fit. Wintras' blue eyes never stopped watching him.

"Full..." His body didn't know what to do, where to move.

"Not quite yet." Wintras smiled, fingers sliding in and out, finding that place again, the one that made
everything flare uncontrollably inside him. His cry was torn from him, fingers tightening. Wintras licked at
his lips, nose sliding on his skin. The touch so deep inside him was slow and careful, Wintras' free hand
pushing between them and teasing across the tip of his prick.

Seed poured from him, drawn up by that touch.

"Oh. Sartis... Your face." Wintras looked as if he were about to cry.

"I..." He ducked his head, hiding in his hair, shivering. He was little and pale and scared, his light taken
by the bar'cha.

"Oh, please don't hide from me. I want to see your face. You were transformed. So... I don't know how
to say it."

He blinked up. "Not ugly?"

"Ugly? You? No! Never. But especially not right now." Wintras' fingers slid over his face, smelling like
his come, like his musk. He moaned, face following the touches.

"So soft," murmured Wintras, eyes following the gentle fingers.

"Oh..." His eyes closed and he melted, moaning low. Lips followed fingers as Wintras rolled him onto his
back. He went easily, moaning at the warmth of the furs behind him, the body above him.

"I want you," Wintras told him, hands sliding on his body.

"You do?" He shivered, moved.

"Uh-huh. And you're all open and ready for me." One long finger teased along his crack again.

"Will you hurt me?"

Wintras shook his head and then stopped. "Maybe just for a moment at the very first."

He distantly remembered Zujan telling someone that, and meaning it, so he nodded. "Will you stop if I
ask?"

Wintras groaned softly but nodded. Furn's fingers slid over him, face nuzzling his shoulder. "If you want
him to stop he can take me instead."

He smiled over at Furn, kissing. "Good morning."

Furn smiled, stroked his hair. "Good morning."

Wintras pushed his legs open and settled between them, skin so warm, hot to the touch. His eyes were
dragged from Furn, Wintras capturing his attention. The dark blue gazed at him, hot and possessive.
Wintras pressed a familiar pot of oil into his hands. "Make me slick."

He dipped his fingers in the oil, wetting them, then reaching down and stroking the heavy cock, petting
the soft skin. Wintras moaned, the sound soft, low and needy. "Sartis. Want you."

He slid his fingers over the tip of the hard cock, sliding over the wet heat. Another moan was his reward,
Wintras' eyes lost in pleasure. Oh, that was pretty. He kept touching, stroking, looking for more. Wintras'
hips moved, pushing the hot shaft into his hand. Furn's hand joined his, both of them stroking, touching.

Wintras gasped and moaned and finally pulled away from their touches. "Inside you. I want to be inside
you."

He had almost hoped Wintras would forget. Almost. Furn helped him settle, legs spread and Wintras
settled close, guiding the long prick to his entrance. He took a deep breath, watching, eyes wide.
Wintras' cock pushed, those dark eyes turning to him as it breached him.

Oh, big. So big. He blinked, gasping, trying to decide whether to pull away. Wintras was still moving,
pushing in and pushing in and pushing in. He moaned, stretching, eyes wide. "Full..."

"So tight," murmured Wintras in reply, still moving. Finally Wintras was still, cock buried deep inside
him. It burned, the stretch a dull ache, a pressure beyond anything he'd imagined.

"I have to move," murmured Wintras, bending to lick at his lips, at the inside of his mouth.

He gasped, reached up, trembling fingers tangling in the gold hair. Wintras made a purring noise and the
thick heat inside him moved, sliding almost all the way out before slowly pushing back in again. The
breath pushed out of him, legs moving restlessly, the burn easing into a heat.

Wintras continued to lap at his lips, to rub their noses together. The thick shaft slid across that place
inside him, sparking his entire body. He was making little noises, the pressure inside him pushing them
right out.

"Hot. Tight." Wintras' eyes were so dark, the words whispers.

"Yes. Yes, hot..." He twisted, hips bucking, heat building inside him, hotter even than the bar'cha.
Wintras nodded and moaned, moving with him, hardness pushing into that spot over and over again.

"I... I..." He turned to Furn, breath catching in his chest. "I feel."

Furn nodded. "Yes. Yes, feel."

Wintras moved faster. "Hot. So hot inside you."

The room spun, the sound of moans and heartbeats stunning him, amazing.

"Take his cock, Furn," moaned Wintras, hips moving hard and fast.

Furn ducked down, sucking him into tight heat, tongue moving over his flesh and he cried out, bucking,
need pouring from him. Wintras shouted as his body went tight around the heat inside him, jerking and
then filling him with even more heat. Oh. Oh, so much. So big. So hot. Furn's mouth slid away and

Wintras collapsed onto him, body covering him. He closed his eyes, panting, holding on.

Wintras licked lazily at his skin. "Mmm... I've been inside you now, Sartis."

"They will be angry at you now." He cuddled, enjoying the touches.

"Who?" Wintras seemed genuinely baffled.

"The bar'cha. They want me."

"They can't have you -- you're mine."

"Yours?" He blinked up, surprised.

Wintras nodded, gathering him close. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so."

"Oh." He smiled, he'd always been someone's and Wintras was warm.

He glanced toward the door. They just couldn't have him back.

Chapter Nine

Wintras laid in bed, idly stroking Zujan's skin. Sartis' skin. Or whoever the sorcerer really was. He didn't
quite understand it, how Zujan could be some sort of being made by the faeries who took over Sartis.
Because Sartis was Zujan and Zujan was Sartis, but more.

It was going to give him a headache. And so were his zigzagging emotions.

Though to be honest, it was getting harder and harder to feel anything but need and want and... love for
the pale boy in his arms. Oh, he still considered Sartis to be his, but it wasn't a master/slave thing
anymore. No it was a possessive, no one else can touch or have Sartis unless he allowed it thing. Wintras
had never felt that way over anyone before. And especially not someone he hated as much as he had
hated Zujan.

He distracted himself by watching Furn move about the room, cleaning and pottering, setting everything
to rights. It was Furn's obvious love for Zujan, more than anyone else's, that had made him reconsider.
Well that and the pull he felt for Zujan.

He looked back down, fingers sliding through the white streaks in Sartis' hair. And damn it all to the
seventh gate, the sorcerer needed a single name! "Furn, quit your stalling and go get us some food. The
door will let you back in, I assure you."

Furn blinked over, eyes wide. "Stalling, my Lord?"

"The place can't get cleaner, we're hungry and you can't stay in here forever. Now go and get us
something to break our fast with." He'd offer to walk out with Furn, but he was comfortable where he
was and the louder those damned faeries got, the more loathe he was to leave Zujan alone.

"Yes, my Lord." Furn nodded, opening the door. Sartis, Zujan, whoever he was, cried out, pressed
against him.

He held the small body close, wrapping around Zujan. "I have you and I won't let them get you. Hurry,
Furn, get that door closed!"

The door slammed shut and the thin body in his arms shuddered, relaxing. "Oh. Better."

"There has to be a way we can kill them." There had to be, because their effect on Zujan seemed to be
getting worse.

"If you kill me, they'll go, find someone else."

"I'm trying to save you, not kill you!" For some reason Zujan's death wish made him very angry. "How
come you can't control them anymore?"

"I never could. They did. There's something about you? I don't know."

"But you treated them like pets! I saw you with them." He'd had a horrified fascination with them from
the start, but now they repulsed him, now that he knew.

"Not me." Zujan... No, Sartis shook his head, the silver shining in the firelight. "Zujan. Not me."

Wintras was hopelessly confused again. "What happened to Zujan then? Why did they leave him...
you... frozen like that?"

"Zujan... slipped away. I... I woke up. My Lady Mother called me; she was so loud."

"Is that the lady you were talking about earlier? The one who you said put the spells on the room to
protect you? The one who liked me?"

"Yes. Yes, they burned her, but she... infused herself into the stones, the walls. For me."

Wintras shuddered at the thought of letting those things take him like that. "She must have really loved
you."

"Yes. Yes, she did. I can almost hear her, here." Sartis nuzzled, face peaceful. "You make Zujan distant,
so far away."

"Good. I don't like him." Sartis he liked though. A lot.

"I don't either. He hurt people."

"That still doesn't help us figure out how to get rid of the life-sucking faeries."

"Maybe she knows."

"Yeah, maybe she does, but she's not exactly talking, Sartis." At least he hoped she wasn't. He wasn't
exactly sure he wanted to meet a ghost.

Sartis chuckled, snuggling in. "No, not exactly. I will just stay in here. Live in here."

Wintras nodded. "Yes, I will let you do that." He wasn't quite willing to surrender his power yet. Such as
it was.

"Good." Sartis drew the blankets tighter around them, cool skin sliding against him.

"You're always so cold," he pointed out.

"You make me warm inside."

"Outside, too." He slid his hand slowly along Zujan's side, the skin warming beneath his fingers. "But
everyone else says you suck their heat out."

"I do. You're different. You keep them away."

"Maybe I just don't like them more than anyone else."

"They don't burn you, though..."

"No, they don't." They just dissolved into sparks and disappeared. There didn't ever seem to be any less
of them though.

"Maybe if I stay in here forever, they'll go away."

"Maybe." He didn't think so though, they seemed to get angrier every single day.

The soft lips brushed his jaw, then Sartis stood, one of the furs draped around the thin body as the
bookshelves were searched.

"Have you read all these?" Wintras asked, curious. He could read, but he didn't do it very often. His
tutor had always liked doing it though.

"Yes. When I've read them all I sne... I get more."

"Why would you have to sneak around to get more?" Surely Sartis had the run of the place -- it had
been his.

"I..." Sartis grinned, scooted closer. "I can get away and they don't know I'm gone."

"Oh?"

Sartis nodded, then slid behind a tapestry and disappeared. He blinked and jumped out of bed, lifting
the tapestry to find a hall hidden behind it. Laughing a little he headed down it, whispering Sartis' name.
Sartis' giggle echoed, the hint of motion up ahead. Chuckling, he followed, liking this playful man more
and more.

He turned a corner, then Sartis pushed into his arms, kissing him playfully and taking off once more.
Grinning, he sped up, giving chase, getting into the spirit of it. Sartis was surprisingly quick and knew the
complicated twists and turns, leading him deeper into the maze. It was dark, but not musty or damp and
with his hands held out and following Sartis' noises, he didn't get hurt. It did occur to him though that if
Sartis stopped making noises he could be lost in here.

The tunnel grew uncomfortably tight, pressing around him, threatening. It was almost enough to make
him backtrack, but there was light ahead, bright and warm. He pushed on, stumbling out into the kitchen,
blinking at the sudden light. Sartis grabbed a sweet roll, staying quiet, along the walls.

He took one as well, moving to stand near Sartis. "How come they don't find you?"

"They aren't close enough. They think I'm still upstairs." Sartis grinned. "Sometimes? I think I'll just go,
leave this place and go."

"Could you do that?" he asked, arm tugging Sartis close.

"No. No, I... I don't know how to not live here. It's just a wish."

He stole another sweet roll and grabbed Sartis' hand. "Let’s go back."

Sartis nodded, pulling at him, the trip faster this time, dark and dizzying. He held onto Sartis' hand tight,
not wanting to get left behind. They slipped back into the little book-filled room, both panting hard.

"So you're not stuck in here after all," he pointed out, pulling Sartis toward the bed.

"I never said I was. I just said I was staying in here." He sat and pulled Sartis down onto his lap, eating a
bite from the roll in Sartis' hand. Sartis chuckled, pulled it away. "That's mine."

"But you're mine, so it's mine, too."

"How come I'm yours?"

"Because... you are." He was going to say because he'd taken the castle, but that wasn't right, wasn't
really the truth. The truth wasn't as easy to pin down.

"Oh." Sartis nibbled on the roll. "How long will you keep me?"

He'd intended only on making Zujan his slave for a single moon, paying in kind for his own time here.
But now... now he found that just wasn't going to do. "Forever."

Those eyes, those amazing clear eyes blinked up at him. "Really?"

He nodded, surprised at himself, but it felt right, good. "Yes. Yes, I think so."

"They'll be angry at you." Sartis motioned to the door, pale throat arching.

"Yeah, well I'm not exactly happy with them." Especially for what they'd turned Sartis, so sweet and
lovely, into. He bent, licking at Sartis' neck, finding the pulse point and sucking up a mark there.

"They... Oh... They want Zujan back..."

"Yeah, well they can keep him -- but they can't have you."

"Do you vow it?" It was a woman's voice that asked, soft and sweet.

Startled, he hugged Sartis to him, protecting. "Who's there?"

The smoke from the fire seemed to coalesce, a dark haired woman seeming to blink out at him.

He pushed Sartis behind him. "He's mine."

Sartis blinked, pushing at him. "Mam?"

"He is. We have waited generations for a prince to break the bar'cha spell. We thought you might never
come."

"You're his mother, the one who died to protect him." He drew himself up, stood naked and proud, still
protecting Sartis. "That's my job now."

"Yes. Yes. It is your job now. Your presence dislodged Zujan from his throne within my son. Beware,
they will find another host. Zujan will return and hunt you."

"I defied him once, I'll do it again." He had more reason now, too.

She nodded, smiled, the look in the dark eyes happy and warm. "You have my blessing. Come to me,
my son. Let me see you."

"Oh, I don't think so." She seemed nice enough and she was saying the right things, but she was made
out of fire and maybe those sneaky little faeries were pulling out their best tricks now.

Sartis looked up at him, eyes huge. "No? She's my..."

He looked down and stroked Sartis' cheek. "What if she's not? I've seen them take on human shape
before."

Sartis' eyes were huge, but that cheek, that cool, smooth cheek rested in his hand. He put his arm
around Sartis' shoulders and moved a few steps toward the fireplace. He wasn't willing to trust her any
further than that.

One ghostly hand reached out, stroked the air in the shape of Sartis' face. "I cannot remain, beloved. I
must drive the bar'cha away from this space, allow you to grow strong enough to battle again."

Sartis shook his head. "No. No, Mam, please. I can stay here, in this room. Safe."

Wintras shook his head. "No, let her make them go. They're getting stronger and angrier every day. We
need them gone." He hated them. Hated that they were holding Sartis prisoner like this, though if Sartis
could leave, maybe it was his Mam who kept him here. Which meant he wanted her gone, too. Sartis
was his, if anyone kept him prisoner it was going to be Wintras himself.

Well, except he didn't want Sartis to be a prisoner. And Sartis wasn't. Unless he wanted to leave
without Wintras and Wintras wasn't sure he could allow that. Which maybe scared him just a little
because it wasn't about revenge or getting back anymore and it was a pretty powerful emotion.

"But Mam... you can't leave me here alone."

Those dark eyes twinkled. "I would never leave you alone. Never."

Wintras nodded. "You're not alone, Sartis. You have me." He squeezed Sartis and smiled down at him.

"Yes." The soft voice grew stronger. "Be wary. Zujan will return and attempt to retrieve what he believes
is his."

"I won't let him." His voice was firm. Solid. He had survived Zujan's mastery once and left the sorcerer
weak enough the faeries had consumed him. Wintras would do it again if he had to.

"Love him well, Prince. He is the purest magic. My beloved son."

Sartis reached for her as she faded, the very stones seeming to shake and shudder. He wrapped Sartis
in his arms, a little worried the castle was about to come down around their ears, but the shaking faded
and the stones held, seeming solid again. Sartis sobbed quietly, holding tight and shivering.

"It's okay," he told his lover. "I've got you. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

He turned Sartis' face up and kissed away the tears, licking at the salt. The long hair was silk against his
fingers, his Sartis' cheeks even softer. It might have been his imagination, but Sartis' hair didn't seem to be
as streaked by white anymore, as if Sartis' mother had somehow imbued him with more life.

The door opened with a crash, Furn wide-eyed and pale. "My Lord! The faeries! They flee!"

He automatically shielded Sartis, relaxing when what Furn had said sunk in. "We've won, Sartis. You're
free."

"How? Why?" Those eyes clung to his. "How did you do it?"

He shrugged. He wasn't a wizard or a magician, but he didn't like those faeries, had made it clear they
weren't welcome. And he guessed that the lady of the fire had been true, had chased them away. "Your
Mam said she'd drive them away after I made it clear I wasn't letting them have you."

Furn gave them both a smile, a nod. "Should I have the main bedchamber readied, my Lord?"

He looked around and shook his head. "No, we're comfortable here." He looked down at Sartis.
"Right?"

Sartis gave him a relieved look, a smile dawning in those eyes. "Oh. Yes. Yes, Wintras. Very

comfortable here."

He nodded. He'd never needed the grand trappings himself and this room was cozy and had the secret
passage ways. "Furn, with Lavan gone, I need a new head man. I think you'd do an admirable job in the
position."

"Me? But... I'm just..." Furn's mouth opened and closed.

"What? Able bodied, loyal, hard working, smart? I can't think of anyone else I would trust in the
position, Furn. And I know you care for Sartis and will protect him with your life if need be."

Furn's eyes shone and the boy bowed deeply. "Yes. Thank you. I would. I will."

Sartis chuckled. "I think you broke him."

"No, I've ensured he's going to remain loyal and hard working," he murmured, licking at Sartis' neck.

"What about me? Who will I be?"

"Mine." He took Sartis' mouth, proving it, passion flaring, need consuming him.

A soft cry pushed into his lips, the thin body arching into his heat. His hands slid down to grab Sartis'
ass, pulling them together, rubbing his need against Sartis' belly.

He heard the heavy door close, Furn giving them privacy.

Sartis' legs wrapped around his waist, the furs falling away. He carried his lover to the bed, laying Sartis
out on it and kissing, settling on top of the slender body. The pale body warmed to his touch immediately,
Sartis appearing to swim in the long, dark hair.

So beautiful and wanton, all his. He bent to Sartis' hip, mouth closing over the skin next to the bone and
sucking, wanting to leave his mark on the beautiful skin.

"Oh!" Sartis arched, vibrating under his lips.

He moaned around Sartis' flesh, the heat of the long, thin cock brushing his cheek, enticing him to turn
and lap at the leaking tip. So hot, so pretty beneath him. He licked from the top to the bottom of Sartis'
cock, nuzzled the sweet balls in their soft sac and then worked his way up again, mouth finding Sartis',
opening it. Soft cries pressed into his lips, his lover rubbing against him, their cocks sliding together. He
pushed with his hips, driving their cocks movements; it was so hot, like being on fire.

Heat soared between them, Sartis' eyes fastened onto his. Oh, he could drown in those eyes, so hot
despite the icy color. He pushed his moans into Sartis' mouth, shuddering as the pleasure worked through
him. Sartis' hand came up, curled around his neck, tugged him close.

"Love you," he whispered into Sartis' mouth, knowing it to be true, more true than anything he'd ever
known.

"Oh. Oh, my prince." Sartis moaned into his lips, heat spreading between them. "My love." He cried out,
his own come spraying from him. He collapsed onto Sartis, breathing heavily, holding on. Sartis cuddled
close, soft kisses brushing his face. "What happens next, Wintras?"

"We rest and build up your strength. Replenish the castle stores. Finish the repairs and make sure our
defenses are strong. I don't know if the faeries and Zujan will be back, but your Mam seemed to think
they would be." He stroked Sartis' skin, looked into the beloved face, scarce believing he'd ever hated
this beautiful sorcerer. "If they are, we'll be ready for the fight."

Sartis cuddled, settled.. "Yes, my prince. We will."

He held Sartis close, feeling warm and safe and good. He was happy, home.

He'd come here for revenge, to hurt Zujan only to find that Zujan as he knew him no longer existed, had
already been defeated and everything he wanted and needed and desired had been left behind in a pale,
cool package that only he could warm with the fires of passion that burned inside him.

Fate certainly had a way of changing your plans.

END

Playing with Fire

Copyright © 2004 by Sean Michael

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without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For
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ISBN: 0-9762384-3-8

Printed in theUnited States of America .

TorquerePress electronic edition / January 2005

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