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

the only way she can when he sees you, Talek. You have always believed your visits cause him pain—in reality, they probably do exactly the opposite.”
    “Now ’tis you who are speaking madness. The memory of my mother, and all they felt for each other, has destroyed my father from the inside out. Each time he sees me, I remind him of all he has lost.” Talek’s shoulders slumped, and he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Sometimes I feel I should stop visiting him. Yet that is no real solution. The guilt would tear at me either way.”
    Tentatively, Kevris rested a hand on his arm. Talek did not pull away. “In some cases, guilt is a good thing. The pain teaches us to do better in the future. But think of this—if a great sorcerer traveled to the palace and offered the king a spell to make him forget or undo the past, removing your mother from his life, do you think he would accept?”
    Talek opened his mouth to bark out a retort, but paused and instead spent a few moments considering it. “I believe the answer is no,” he said at last. “I think he would want to keep the memory of her, despite the terrible pain that clings to it.”
    “I believe you are right.” Kevris’s fingers tightened briefly on his arm and then dropped away. “Prince or stableboy—or concubinus—we must all learn to value what we have before it is too late. Perhaps that is what drove your father mad—that he realized her worth to him only after she was gone. Perhaps that is the lesson you should draw from his agony, rather than interpret it as an admonition against love.”
    Talek said nothing, and Kevris stepped back. He wrapped the drying cloth a bit more tightly around his waist.
    “And now you must excuse me. I shall go to my own chamber and dress.”
    After he left, Talek lifted the jug in trembling fingers. For a moment, he considered smashing it against the floor. Instead, he lowered it to his chest and seated himself on the edge of the bed.
    For some reason, his sight soon grew blurry and his eyelashes felt wet. Resting his cheek on top of the jug, he sighed and closed his eyes.
     
    * * * *
     
    For what seemed like days instead of hours, Lyrion remained in the bathing room, huddled in front of the fire with his legs drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. At least the servants hadn’t brought the chains back.
    They did, however, bring his clothes eventually.
    “The prince requires an audience with you,” one of them said, holding out the bundle. Lyrion accepted it and dressed with trembling hands. Was he about to be sentenced to the dungeon for the remainder of his time here? With the mark on his middle still growing, he doubted Talek would sentence him to death—but, from what he had heard and seen lately, there were worse things.
    He felt a bit relieved when the two servants accompanied him to the throne room without binding him in any way. His chest tightened when he found himself standing again in the very room where he had first been brought as a naked captive. The prince was again in the same spot, leaning back in his ornate chair, and Kevris stood beside him.
    For once, Kevris wore a normal tunic and leggings, though a bright red sash around his waist betrayed a lingering touch of sartorial impudence. Apparently, he was aware of, and possibly approved of, whatever punishment Talek was about to impose. Lyrion fought back tears, recalling how Kevris had hated him when he had first arrived. The bond they had formed had been an illusion, much like the prince’s affection, and the love Lyrion had begin to feel for both of them would now go to waste, locked only in his own miserable heart.
    At least none of the prince’s council was present to witness his humiliation. Aside from two armored guards at the door, and the servants who had delivered him and withdrawn to the back of the room, he was alone with his two former lovers.
    Finally, the prince spoke.
    “I have reached a decision as to your