Free Lyrion's Gift [Elven Conceptions 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour ManLove) by Jade Astor Page A

leave this room until I send for him,” he shouted.

Chapter 8
     
    Talek stalked into his bedchamber and uncorked a jug of shadowberry wine. He drank deeply and greedily, savoring the slightly painful burn as it slid into his stomach. One jug, he knew, was scarcely enough to dull his senses—fortunately, he had an entire bottlery at his disposal. He would go through every container in his store if he had to. At some point, the ache in his heart would have to stop.
    The door to his chamber scraped against the stone as it opened. Kevris entered, still wrapped in his drying cloth. Talek cursed himself for not ordering the servants to detain him in the bathing room, too.
    “I must speak to you about your treatment of Lyrion, prince.”
    “From your tone, I assume you have come to defend him. How interesting. I thought you would be thrilled that he has been demoted to captive status again.”
    “You know very well that I am not.”
    Talek took another swig from the jug. “Surely you cannot blame me for the fate that has befallen him. He asked for it himself—in quite specific words, I believe.”
    “He did nothing of the kind, as well you know. He expressed a longing to see his own village again. Never did he say he was not happy with you or with any of your gifts. You deliberately interpreted it that way so you would have an excuse to punish him.”
    “Who are you to question my judgment?” Talek turned on Kevris, his face flooding with heat as his anger rose all over again. “Having heard that, should I allow him to wander freely about the palace, perhaps with an eye to escaping? Kindly remember that my heir still rests inside him. That was the entire reason we brought him here, after all.”
    “Yet you have come to value his companionship for other reasons as well. Do not bother to deny it—it is obvious to me.”
    Talek scowled, and his haughty tone softened. “No,” he said slowly, “I shall not bother to deny it. Yet I must also confess that you were right about him all along. His sweet manner and flattering words are but a ruse. He feels nothing for either one of us.”
    “’Tis amusing—I was about to say the same thing of you.” Crossing the room, Kevris faced him boldly. “Many in this palace say you have no heart at all. I happen to know differently—that you do indeed have one. I even know the reason you never show it—though I cannot help but wonder if you do.”
    “You are very free with your tongue.” Talek raised the jug again. After he had emptied it, he still held it between them, running his lips over its rim. “There are some princes who would have it cut from your mouth for such insolence.”
    “That may well be so. But you are not such a prince, and never have been. What of your father, though? Would he go so far to prevent me from speaking the truth? And if he did, would it be a symptom of his madness?”
    “You know nothing of my father’s madness. I admit I will not maim you, but I command you to remain silent on matters that concern you not.”
    “The king concerns me because he concerns you. Is that not one of my functions in your household—to share the burdens that oppress you? And I have always believed, no matter how often you deny it, that your fear of madness is what causes you to banish love from your life.”
    Talek lowered the jug from his face. “As I said before…you know nothing of such matters. You would do well to leave me now, before I forget I am a civilized man and do something to you we shall both regret.”
    Kevris pressed on as if he had not heard. “Part of what disturbs the king when you go to visit him is that he sees the face of his wife echoed in your own. You told me so yourself the afternoon we went there together.”
    “Yes. What of it? Does not every man resemble his mother a bit? I mean—Lyrion’s will not, but no doubt the child will resemble him. ’Tis nature’s way.”
    “Precisely my point. Your mother, his queen, returns to him in