(The Dark Servant)Midnight Matters, A. Ellas [primary phonics books .txt] 📗

and staggered towards the prince’s bed. “Are you all right, my prince?”

As Jisten went by, Rak handed him the potion.

The captain downed it and bent over Jethain. “My prince!” He felt the prince’s forehead and pulse.

“I’m tired, Jisten. I want your mother’s crepes for breakfast. With extra bacon.”

“Yes, you can have them both,” Jisten promised.

Rak settled on the stool in the corner and tried to blend in with the shadows.

“Thank you,” said Jethain. He smiled and patted Jisten’s hand.

“The best thing you can do is rest,” Jisten said and tucked in the bed sheets.

“Mmmhmmm. Just keep my brother away from my feet.”

“I promise,” Jisten said, sounding bewildered. “I’ll keep him busy.” He turned on Rak with determination on his features. “Now, for you.”

“Is your head better?” asked Rak. “Do you want a mint tonic?”

“Oh, no,” Jisten wagged his finger, “This isn’t about me. This is about you. If sun priests were in here, then you’re probably worse for wear. Come here.”

Rak slid off the stool and cast a significant glance towards Jethain.

“The prince needs us here for the moment,” Jisten said. “He’s going to sleep. Let me check you for injuries and oil your wings.” He took Rak’s hand, led him over to the cot, sat down, and patted his lap.

Rak sat down gingerly, trying to make it look natural. Jisten spread his legs a bit, so that Rak could sit where his sore parts would not touch anything. Rak rested his forehead against Jisten’s shoulder. “I am not worthy of your care,” he whispered.

“Those sun-cursed sun priests were at you if you’re saying that.” Jisten’s growl vibrated through Rak. Without waiting for an answer, Jisten sang the healing chant. He felt in his pocket and unstoppered the oil vial that he found there. He smoothed the oil on Rak’s wings as he sang.

Jethain turned over in bed and watched. Rak’s wings spread under Jisten’s hands and the oil made them glow in the light, illuminating every welt and bruise, which faded before Jethain’s eyes, the illusion dissolving.

“Your wings aren’t hurt,” Jisten said.

“They whipped him. Down there,” said Jethain from the bed, and Rak flushed with shame.

“Where do you keep your healing salve, S’Rak?” Jisten asked, a muscle jumping in his jaw from anger. His voice dropped to a whisper, “How does he know that?”

“I am not badly injured,” countered Rak, not looking up. “The prince saw.”

“I didn’t ask

how

injured you were,” Jisten replied. “I’ll ask Scorth if I must.”

“It is in my quarters,” admitted Rak. “I have not moved my entire kit in here yet.”

“Message,” Jisten said and Trelo emerged from Rak’s folded back hood. The blue lizard clicked happily as Jisten scribbled on a piece of parchment from a stack on the table by the cot. The mastigi whirred out with the completed note and Jisten said, “I’ll oil your wings while we wait.”

“Didn’t you

just

oil them?” asked Jethain, propping his head on his hand.

“Not very well,” Jisten said. “It takes two hours for a good oiling.”

“Oh,” said Jethain, clearly taken aback. “Daily?”

“I wish,” Jisten said. “Perhaps once upon a time when the Valers and Loftoni lived together as they were meant to be.”

“I would not mind it,” said Rak. He was utterly relaxed in Jisten’s lap now, his wings fully extended and draped over the cot. Jisten resumed oiling. The prince yawned and closed his eyes again.

Tebber walked in a short time later with Trelo on his head and a jar in his hand. The mastigi took wing, landed on Rak, and climbed back into his hood.

“Thank you, Tebber,” Jisten said. “Please tell Mother that the prince wants crepes and bacon for breakfast tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir. For you and S’Rak, too?”

“S’Rak, what do you want for breakfast?”

“What are crepes?” asked Rak, curious.

“Paper thin pancakes,” Jisten said. “Filled with sweet cream, for Jethain, that is. Some prefer berries in season. Others prefer them filled with eggs and ham.”

“That sounds good. May I try them, too? Just like Jethain’s?”

“Crepes for all of us,” Jisten said. “Filled with sweet cream.”

Tebber grinned. “See you in the morning, sirs.” He handed Jisten the jar before he walked out.

“Ready for the healing salve, S’Rak?”

Rak sighed and glanced at Jethain, who appeared to be sleeping. He stood up and dropped his pants and wrap. Jisten made an angry noise low in his throat but kept it soft so that the prince wouldn’t awaken. Rak studied the floor as Jisten spread cream on the welts. He was erect before Jisten was half finished.

“You’ll call in defenders so that we can, uhm, have some alone time when all the salve is applied, yes?” Jisten’s lips brushed Rak’s ear.

“Of course,” whispered Rak, grateful that Jisten was willing, even after…but of course, Jisten didn’t know. He took a deep breath and thanked Zotien that Murson hadn’t made him service Jisten too.

Jisten’s large hands were as gentle as ever with Rak. His fingers were oily and spread the salve around his hole. “Inside?” Jisten whispered.

Rak shook his head and turned so Jisten could see the many welts on his manhood. Jisten ran his finger along that instead. Rak shivered, biting back a moan of pleasure.

“Call in your allies,” Jisten whispered. “A lot of them.”

Half a dozen death hounds padded into the room, followed once more by the firemane. Two vranyxia translated in as well, snorting smoke and shaking their smoke manes. Mastigi swirled around them, then around Jethain.

“I cannot guarantee that the firemane will stay,” Rak warned. “They grow bored easily. But few things will take on a vranyxia. It is sheer luck that they were nearby. They usually shun cities.”

Jisten stood smoothly, carefully holding Rak so he didn’t touch anything painful. Rak’s wings swept gracefully downward and he balanced easily. The captain carried him into the small, unused servant’s room. He snuck in a few kisses and Rak tried to kiss back, squirming delightfully in Jisten’s