Royal Duties - 3. Chapter 3

“You are joking?” Jahke looked between the two powerful demons with a horrified expression. “Sitka, stop them.”

The faun’s horned lover shook his head, wrapping both arms around Jahke’s slender form, and very wisely pulled him out of the way.

“I can’t make either of them do anything, remember.”

“Tobias!” Jahke protested.

“They want to tear each other to bits, let them.” The chef glared at his lover and the panther facing him across the room. “But you aren’t doing it here. It’s Nonae, go to the Arena if you want to hit each other.”

Nassau’s voice, unbidden, slid into the minds of each of the assembled party.

Why don’t you all come? We’ll make a day of it, and there are several other bouts lined up.

I swear if you bet against me… Kiorl directed his thought to his friend, but Tobias’s smirk told him the other empath had heard him anyway.

“Well, let’s go.”

Zinkara Rumah was an important house, a popular house, and when the entire cohort spilled from it’s door and out into the Inner Circle, other demons stopped, watched, and moved smartly out of their way. Only Shindae and Jin-Ha were missing, both on separate errands Upstairs, and Kiorl smiled politely at minor demons who bowed or genuflected as they passed. Everyone said Zinkara Rumah was the most favoured house on the hill, and Kiorl didn’t see why anyone else should be allowed to forget it.

They were met at the tall doors into the Palace by Nassau’s favourite attendant, even though Kiorl knew his way intimately through the maze of passages, it was a relief not to have to watch every single one of his minor demons and their recruits quite so closely. The very last thing he wanted was to lose one of his housemates in the Palace; it would damage his reputation.

The tiered seating of the Arena was fuller than Kiorl had seen it in many decades.

That’ll please Sathriel, he thought to himself, He always likes it when the Palace is busy. He turned to Zai with a snarl.

“I’ll see you on the sands.”

“Fuck yeah, you will.” The empath shot back at him, and Kiorl left his housemates to find seats and friends, and began to lope his way around one of the upper tiers.

Nassau was sat by himself, about halfway up the amphitheatre, wings draped across the step above, dressed in a pale cotton chiton and looking every inch the relaxed Prince-at-leisure with his long dark hair spilling over one shoulder.

“My dear friend.”Nassau stood as they embraced, and Kiorl knew that almost all eyes in the Arena were on them. There were lots of demons present who would never appear at court, and the chance to see the Prince with his closest advisor was not to be passed over. “And what is it you and Zai are arguing about today?”

“He and Tobias have gotta learn to mind their own fucking business, that’s what.” Kiorl grumbled.

“And you should be better at keeping them out. You have plenty of time to practice.”

Kiorl’s tail whipped behind him with a snap, his ears flicking back over his hair. It was growing back in nicely, though it had reached the annoying stage of too long to stay where it was put, and too short to tie up. His frustration with his hair getting in his face had been what started this particular vocal and physical bout of argument with Zai to begin with.

“It’s my house,” Kiorl griped. “If I have to fight him for it then-”

You are not fighting for the house! Nassau’s silent voice was like the slap of a branding iron.

“Yes Nas. Sorry.” The panther exhaled deeply, letting himself sink back against the stone steps, grabbing an extra seat cushion for his shoulders. “So who’s up next. You said there were other bouts?”

“Kage chose Phrize as his candidate for this year’s Games Champion. Baccha is training him up.”

Kiorl leant forward, elbows on his knees. He knew the fire elemental well, his frozen-blooded brother was a favourite companion of Shindae’s, and everyone was aware of Baccha’s status as undefeated in the Arena.

“Training bout… you going to let them really go at it?”

Nassau nodded, the storm clouds in his eyes swirling.

“Oh goody.”

The big black minotaur stood in the centre of the sands, arms spread, as his fur was pasted to his skin with stripes of thick white paint, applied by another minor demon. Kiorl sought through his memory for the major demon of their house, and came up with a six-armed, spiny creature called Ghianda, someone he often came across in the court of the King. He found the other demon in the stands, and made the common symbol to place a bet. Ghianda nodded happily, confident in the abilities of his friend, and smiled with all three rows of teeth on show as the minotaur hefted his enormous battle axe onto his shoulder.

Phrize needed no such ceremony, but took up a thin curved sabre and a whip-like chain flail which instantly sizzled into flame at his touch, and turned to face his opponent across the sands. The fire along his back crackled, sparking blue with intensity.

Two Palace servants came in, bearing a stone dish and bone handled brush, and blessed both demons with the blood of a landesser, slaughtered especially for the occasion. The sand was marked all around the ring with the blood, more smeared in complex patterns over the arches of each entrance, and the air shimmered as the spell sealed itself. Both figures within the Arena sands shivered visibly, but it was Phrize who tightened his grip on his weapons and readied his stance. Kiorl smirked, pleased with his wager. Every injury would count, everything would hurt… it would be a fair fight, right up until the moment the blood was washed from the walls and disturbed in the sands. If the God Ender of Worlds chose Phrize as his champion, he would want the elemental in perfect fighting form, regardless of how excruciating his training had been.

Phrize was fast, agile, light on his feet and skilful with his dual wielded weapons. But Baccha was undisputed champion, and he could absorb blows like a mountain resisting the wind. When the whip lashed his arm for the second time the big minotaur grabbed it, not caring for the fire, and began to wrap it around his arm, hauling the physically smaller elemental into range of his axe.

You’re gonna lose that bet. Nassau smirked silently.

Not fucking yet, Kiorl replied.

The stands were thick with cheering and shouts, but on the sands, all was quiet… right up until the moment Baccha roared in pain. Phrize shimmered, all but invisible, his flames replaced by a heat haze as he used all his powers to super-heat the whip far beyond the point where the minotaur could stand it. He dropped the handle and fled back into his own shape – significantly dimmed – as Baccha sunk to his knees. Whip removed, many in the stands including Ghianda gasped audibly at the blackened mess of their champion’s arm, burnt through to the bone. The minotaur bellowed, the sound reverberating around the Arena, making Kiorl’s teeth vibrate uncomfortably.

The charge was quick, too quick, and the one handed swing of the axe was both broad and precise. There was no way it could have been avoided. Even with one arm in tatters, Baccha was physically incredibly strong, and the axe chopped straight through Phrize’s torso and sunk several inches deep into the wall. Baccha stepped back, panting, clearly pleased, and froze as the razor edge of the elemental’s sabre pressed up right enough under his chin to draw a thin line of bright red blood. Gasps and cheers abounded in equal volume and Kiorl grinned across the stands at Ghianda.

“Pay up!”

“I’ve not seen anyone use that skill in a long time,” Nassau’s tone was entirely complimentary, and Kiorl wondered if, once returned to full strength, Phrize might be making a private appearance in Nassau’s court. “Form compression like that wouldn’t have worked if he hadn’t already spent so much of his fire...”

Oh yeah, flame-boy is definitely going to be getting lucky. Kiorl stood and smiled at his friend.

“Shall we?”

The attendants were wiping away the blood blessing, and as they did the elemental champion glowed strongly as his flames were replenished. Baccha’s arm healed from the inside out, a process which created a stench of burnt hair and seared meat across the Arena. Various spectators used skills of their own to clear the air.

“Hey Kiorl!”

The panther glanced up at Jahke’s voice, the pale little faun sitting across his mate’s lap, looking smug.

“I told you books were useful!”

Kiorl flicked an ear.

“Whatever do you mean, Jahke dear?” Nassau coated his voice in silk as he addressed the recruit. Jahke in turn blushed attractively.

“Sire...” He dipped his head observantly: no one was required to show full obeisance in so informal a setting. “I found a book of elemental instruction on a trip to Stores. It’s very old. Last time Phrize was over I loaned it to him.”

“You taught him how to compress his shape and heat flow across the Arena?” Kiorl was impressed.

“Well, he taught himself. But I did find the tools for him.” Jahke beamed, wiggling his hips. “See, I told you books were useful.”

“Very well done. Bravo Jahke.” Nassau gave him a smile and then shot Kiorl a sidelong glance. I think we should find a job for Everybody’s Favourite Faun, don’t you?

Kiorl smirked, then scowled as Zai descended the tier toward them.

“Let’s be getting on with it, shall we?”

The mere fact that Nassau walked onto the sands with them was enough to focus the attention of every soul in the room. When both began to shed clothes and bits of armour, Kiorl was sure he felt the tension in the Arena rise like an expectant wave. Nassau spoke.

“Master Kiorl and the enforcer Zai of Zinkara Rumah wish to settle a private dispute.”

There were jeers, someone let out a shrill wolf whistle, and an idiot sitting close to the group of Kiorl and Zai’s housemates looked at Tobias and made an explicit and rude gesture. Inai backhanded him across the face without hesitation. No decent friend of the house would think it was Tobias they were fighting over: the boy had made his preference for seclusion, privacy, and monogamy very plain. Kiorl didn’t understand him, but he respected the kid enough not to want to break his rules. The food was worth it.

“No weapons, no powers, no magic,” that last was directed at Kiorl, “and no abilities.” Silently, the Prince glared levelly at the pair of them. No powerplays, and no bragging rights. After this is done, I don’t want to hear of it again.

Zai bowed, Kiorl inclined his head.

“A fair fight, for the settlement of an argument.” And with that, he left the sands.

There was no blessing, but everyone, Kiorl included, turned to watch Nassau as he sketched glyphs of power in the air. Kiorl closed his eyes and opened them twice in the way he’d been taught by Sathriel – so long ago it was like a dream of a dream – to see the patterns which made up the world. Nassau’s magic bent and changed them, creating a cage the size of the arena sands in layers of transparent and translucent wefts of power. It was the kind of magic which was useless in a fight, it was too complicated and took too long, but deeper and more skilled than anything Kiorl could do, and he was one of best magicians in Hell. With the final symbol in position, the pattern was complete, the visions Kiorl was watching vanished, and all his powers, along with the last dropped item of his clothing, disappeared.

It was strange and oddly chilling to stand there facing Zai, and have nothing to call upon. All his abilities, some gifted at his creation, some gained in battle, were gone. There was no cloak of seduction to throw out, no shadow to vanish within, no magic to wield, nothing. Kiorl wondered what it was like for Zai, who as an empath was so connected to everything, to be suddenly stripped of all those links.

It’s probably rather freeing, he mused, and focused bright blue eyes on his opponent.

Naked, the differences between them were only heightened. Zai might have worn fur, and his long tail was beautifully tufted at the tip with steel grey which matched his short hair, but he was not feline like Kiorl was. The panther flexed his paws in the sand, each claw gouging noticeable streaks as he did so, joints bending in readiness for the strike. He laid back his ears, and sneered.

“Don’t worry Jahke, I won’t let them kill each other,” Nassau’s voice carried – it was deliberate – as he spoke to the faun. “First to yield, or fall unconscious, loses.”

He sensed Zai’s move before he saw it, fine feline insight doing its job, and dodged the pounce and blow. But not far enough. Zai’s claws raked his calf, and blood splattered onto the sands amid the deafening shouts of the spectators. Kiorl snarled, rounded, swept the minor demon off his feet, and then they were grappling, arms locked around each other, claws scratching and scraping, small injuries ignored, fighting for purchase and position. The roof and the sands flipped several times, Zai snatched back a growl as Kiorl whipped him across the eyes with his tail, then used his hind paws to push Zai in the chest, scoring him deeply, rolling up and away. Kiorl grinned.

Zai stood, turned, and even with blood dripping down his abdomen, smirked, gesturing with two fingers with an unmistakeable ‘come hither’. Kiorl laid back both ears and hissed at him, all fangs on show.

Kiorl was not expecting the punch, because they both had claws and Kiorl always used his, but Zai was strong – he was an enforcer who trained daily after all – and knuckles to the jaw were no laughing matter. Kiorl grabbed Zai’s shoulder, puncturing the muscle, but Zai was fast. The following punches landed – temple, jaw, up under his muzzle, sternum, jaw again – faster than Kiorl’s heartbeats, and the panther realised he’d underestimated Zai’s capacity and desire to cause pain.

Just because he has Tobias now… I thought that made him soft.

Kiorl was proud he didn’t scream as Zai rent his shoulder open. He twisted away, defensive, and the pain followed round his ribs as Zai moved with him across the sands, fingers in his flesh. It was the bite – unexpected and excruciating – on his upper thigh that made him scream. He lashed out with his tail again, flinging sand in Zai’s face, and scrambled away from the ash-furred demon. Zai grinned at him, lips bloody, obviously proud. Kiorl took a step, and winced as his bitten leg took his weight. He hadn’t bothered to catalogue his other injuries, and there were obviously others. Zai took the opening without mercy.

They wrestled, but Kiorl spent more time on his back than Zai did, wasted energy blocking punches which turned into claws, yowled as the other demon bit three neat holes right through his ear. Kiorl spat blood, felt one of his ribs break, and realised he was going to lose.

Lose? Lose to Zai? On the sands of the Arena in front of everyone? How long do you think you’ll keep the favour of the King as a loser?

Zai smiled at him, expression evil even as he cracked another rib with his hand, clearly enjoying himself. Kiorl’s world narrowed along with his slit pupils.

Not for nothing was he the only demon besides Nassau left alive who had trained alongside the Princes. He had grown up sparring with Nadavun and Nathaneal, trained by Sathriel personally. Kiorl might not have had his abilities or his magic, but he was better trained in combat than any other occupant of the Inner Circle. White hot feral rage snapped through him, wound around a core of discipline which he’d honed for millennia.

It took two heartbeats, and then Zai was on his back in the sands, the muscles of his abdomen sliced through, half gutted. Kiorl’s hand was around his throat, squeezing hard as Zai’s tail thrashed, then twitched.

“Stop!” It was Tobias’s voice, half a strangled shout, full of distress. “Stop it!”

Kiorl snarled. Nassau’s rules were very plain, and it wasn’t the chef Kiorl wanted to hear from. Zai stilled underneath him, sun-yellow eyes dimming.

“Y-yield,” he gasped, barely the suggestion of a word.

Kiorl growled, fingers flexing. Zai coughed.

“Yield!”

The panther let go and stood in one motion, though it was not smooth. He blinked, folding his ears back against the cacophony of cheers and shouting, and belatedly realised his vision was blurry on his left side, and there wasn’t a bit of him which didn’t ache or screech in pain. He moved back from Zai’s prone form, clearly limping. He’d won, but he knew it was Zai’s reputation which had risen, because he had nearly beaten a major demon of both royal courts, and that made him better than any other enforcer for several centuries.

There was a flood of sensation as Nassau ripped the central glyph from his spell, and Tobias was sprinting across the sands to his mate. The look he speared Kiorl with was intensely hateful, but faltered when Nassau spoke to them softly.

It is done. They have argued and it is settled. There is no more reason for you to hate Kiorl now than you did this morning.

Everything went quiet as Nassau entered the sands of the Arena, the attention of entire colosseum trained upon the resplendent winged figure. Nassau smiled, and Kiorl gave him a lop sided grin in return.

You’re a mess.

You should see the other guy.

I have. Oh Kiorl…

He asked for it. Kiorl thought, and hoped it was mostly private, because Nassau had never enjoyed gloating in anyone.

The Prince turned to Zai, took a breath, and sent his magic to the demon with the push of one palm. It was the kind of thrust of power none of them could hope to achieve in several lifetimes. Nassau’s magic was trained to his desires, as all magic was, but the Prince had woven every strand of that power himself, laid the foundations over decades when tiny eeks of magic was all he had to work with, and so the effect of his impact was not only stronger but perfectly formed. Zai glowed, his whole body suddenly like his eyes, and as the assembly stared, he was released by the Prince’s magic, whole, healed, refreshed, and standing on the sands as though the entire fight hadn’t yet taken place. He turned and kissed his mate hungrily, obviously roused.

Kiorl rolled his eyes.

You two are fucking ridiculous.

You don’t want me in your head Kiorl, then stop inviting us in.

Piss off. Kiorl replied without feeling, he turned to Nassau.

“And what about me?”

Nassau smirked, eyes full of mirth.

“I’m sure Zai will take care of you.” If you ask nicely.

Kiorl growled at his friend and sovereign’s retreating back. He gathered his power around him, and whilst a thick pad of magic could temporarily staunch the worst of his bleeding, it did nothing for the pain. Pride and stubbornness allowed him to limp from the Arena without challenge.

“Kiorl.”

I’mma fucking kill him this time.

“Kiorl!”

“Go away Zai” Kiorl could feel his injuries worsening. He just wanted to go lie down in his rooms and not think about anything for a while. “Go back to Tobias.” He staggered, one hand reaching out to the intricately mosaicked wall.

“Seven Hells, Kiorl!” Zai caught him under the arm, supporting his weight. “Your stubbornness is going to kill you one day.”

Kiorl snarled at him, fangs bared, but the hand which should have shoved the other demon away missed, and Kiorl realised belatedly his vision in his left eye had gone from blurred to practically non-existent. Zai let out an aggravated sigh.

“Fuck’s sake Ki! You won! Everyone just saw you beat me to a fucking pulp before you barely spared me my life. You’re the boss, but I'm not letting you kill yourself over it.” Zai wrapped a strong arm around his waist and pulled him away from the wall, keeping him anchored with his tail bound around Kiorl’s other shoulder. “Now, which way is it to your room? I fucking hate this stupid maze of a Palace….”

Kiorl supposed he should have at least been grateful that Zai was good at following directions, because by the time they reached his suite, he was dripping blood steadily onto the floor, smearing the pattern with his tail as they went. The door opened under his touch, and Kiorl groaned as Zai laid him down upon the padded and many-cushioned seating platform. The dense geometric patterned cloth above him weaved in and out of focus.

“Fuck me… Gods Ki, why on earth do you ever sleep at the house when you have this much space here?” Zai sounded impressed, and Kiorl wondered if the other demon would care that he was the first person other than Nassau to enter Kiorl’s room since Kiaza had left. Then he remembered that Zai was in full possession of his empathic powers, and would now know that anyway. “Kiorl? What’s wrong?”

Kiorl growled, then grunted in pain as he tried to stretch torn muscles.

Zai frowned.

“Hold still. Let me sort you out.”

The panther had watched Zai use his power plenty of times, but he’d never had occasion to experience the shiveringly strange sensation of Zai’s healing tongue lapping at his flesh, joining muscle and skin with each pass, his fur regrowing and smoothing at an unnaturally fast pace. It was an exceedingly good gift, and Kiorl wondered which of Zai’s original siblings it had belonged to. The ash-furred demon knelt beside him bent double to lap at the long scores he’d opened across Kiorl’s ribs, and the panther turned himself at Zai’s silent instruction as he continued to work across his back.

“You can talk to me Kiorl, if you want to.”

Kiorl snorted.

“So you can give away all my secrets instead? How wonderful.”

Zai paused, fingers tightening uncomfortably on Kiorl’s damaged thigh.

“Nassau knows all our secrets anyway. And you know Tobias would never tell anyone anything he learnt. Fuck, he’s the only one of us who even gives a crap about any kind of privacy.” Zai finished healing the long lash in his side and began to attend the deep bite in Kiorl’s thigh with the soft drag of his tongue. “C’mon Ki, you can’t just spend the next century haughty and pissed off and not talking to anyone.”

Kiorl sighed, all his breath leaving him in a juddering sough, and he found his good arm, moving to stroke Zai’s short steel hair. Zai squeezed his thigh gently in response, and continued with his ministrations.

“Everyone was very impressed with you today. The best enforcer in the Inner Circle… you’d best not get picked by one of the Gods as a champion though. Tobias would be miserable.”

Zai arched an eyebrow at him in surprise.

“Oh fuck you Zai, of course I care. He’s the best chef there is.” Kiorl exhaled again, then knuckled his friend’s scalp softly. Zai paused to look at him. “I never thought it would work between you. I’m glad I was wrong.”

“Thank you.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to find either of you in my head again though.”

“We’ll do our best, but you are rather loud.” Zai moved, stretched, then lay along side him, and Kiorl frowned as he scooted in close, a hand on the back of Kiorl’s head, tilting his face downward. Kiorl stiffened. “Kiorl… your ear.”

“Oh.” The panther relaxed, and huffed as his nose was pressed into the centre of Zai’s firm chest. “I still don’t know why you bother though Zai. Keeping him happy seems to take such a lot of effort.”

“He’s worth it.” Zai replied between licks. “Anyway, I like to spend my time thinking of him, finding things to please him.”

That was enough to make Kiorl jerk upward, leaning on one elbow. Zai followed the motion, kissed his cheek, and began to set about fixing the swelling of cheek and brow which had caused his eye to shut.

“Dear gods, why?”

“Because I love him.”

“You sound like an idiot.” Kiorl told him, but the other demon merely shrugged.

Zai leant back with a purr, surveying Kiorl with a critical gaze, and the panther knew that whilst his most obvious injuries were mended, his friend intended to fix all the damage he’d done. He held out an arm, and Zai threaded their fingers together, bending to his task. Kiorl watched him, all soft and supple, the same way he was with Tobias, especially when they thought no one was around to see them, and realised that Zai genuinely didn’t care if Kiorl thought he sounded stupid for loving Tobias. It did not matter to him, not one bit. The knowledge irked him.

Caring what people think of you is all you have, his inner voice told him with a snarl. What are you without your reputation?

I am the left hand of the Prince and the right hand of the King, he assured himself firmly.

A position you gained with what skills exactly? Being really fucking good in bed.

Kiorl didn’t realise he’d snarled aloud until Zai froze, lips and tongue at his wrist.

“Sorry. It’s not you.”

“I can tell that much.” Zai’s yellow eyes dimmed as he frowned gently. “What bothers you, my great friend?”

“Nothing,” Kiorl rumbled, knowing the empath would be fully aware he was lying.

Zai finished, sat up fully and leant in to kiss him properly. Kiorl purred against him happily enough: Zai was a good kisser, strong and sure of himself, and careful with his fangs. Despite that, as they parted he was still frowning.

“Kiorl, may I make a suggestion?”

“Go on.”

“Maybe try loving somebody more than once Ki. You might surprise yourself.”

*

There was a room in Zinkara Rumah where no one went. The door was not locked, it never had been, but the room had been unoccupied for more than a century. How much more, Kiorl couldn’t say, because he never bothered counting the years, not from that long ago. The first bedroom at the top of the grand staircase was different from the others, and not only because it had no marks upon the door. The name plate Nassau had gifted Tobias and Zai had started a trend which Jahke had improved upon – though why the bathroom needed a label, Kiorl couldn’t understand in the slightest – and even his own door had a letter carved into it which indicated his ownership.

The first and empty bedroom also contained an enormous fireplace, and it was on the stone ledge there that Kiorl sat, wondering what had become of the tufted woven rug which had once rested there.

We had fucking terrific sex on that rug.

The bed was like his own, a broad stone dish, brimming with layers of furs, myriad in their hues and patterns, but though the furs looked clean and new, the bed had been empty for as long as the room had been, and no fire had burnt in the swept out grate since it’s previous occupant had vanished. Kiorl let out a deep sigh, and touched his fingers to the floor of the fireplace, expecting but not encountering, a layer of soft ash under his hand.

“Where did you go, old friend?” he asked into the silence.

Kiorl hadn’t dared step into the room, let alone linger, in many years. The only reason he was allowing himself the indulgence now was because Nassau had gone to the Garden and Kiorl could allow himself the very rare luxury of keeping a secret from his oldest friend. When they had first moved to this house, the fire in this room had never burnt out-

‘We can’t have sex in the actual fire Kiaza...’

The boy tugged again on his hand, all smiles and shimmering scales.

‘Why not?’

‘Oh Treasure… not all of us are fireproof.’

Cold magic, so unlike his own, travelled silkily up his arm, even as Kiorl drew the boy into his embrace.

‘I got enough skills to keep you safe. Don’t you trust me?’

‘After last time? I’m not sure he should.’

They both turned to the doorway with broad smiles.

‘Nas!’

But now… Kiorl would have been surprised if Sitka even remembered what Kiaza looked like, and Inai had never even met him. Kiorl wrapped his tail around his knees and gazed at the blank expanse of hearthstone without really seeing it.

Unlike his wounds – which were perfectly healed and, apart from the bruising under his jaw Zai could not fix, appeared as though they had never even been – Zai’s observations of his general mood stung. Kiorl was the highest ranking major demon in the Inner Circle, he wanted for neither friends nor lovers, he could have anyone he wanted, for just about anything….

But who the fuck is there to talk to… it’s not like Sathriel ever gives a shit about the things in my life.

Not unless they pertain to his son, his inner voice reminded, unhelpfully.

Would it kill the two of them to talk to each other?

Kiorl stood, flicked his gaze from the fireplace to the bed and back again with a sigh.

Come home Kiaza. He knew he would never say the words out loud. Come home, I miss you.