A Rose Among the Ruins Read online

  Rhicer breathed a sigh of relief. He did not want to discuss what had happened between them, however inadvertently, did not want to examine the emotions chasing themselves around his head like crazed rabbits. He wanted to fall back into the world of dreams where a gentle, female lover welcomed him with open arms. He wanted to close his eyes and see Eldvese's beautiful face, smiling at him as she had once done, before Donnchadh's soldiers changed her. He wanted to pull Kanath back into his arms and finish what they had started.

  His eyes did close at that thought, shock running through him as he tried unsuccessfully to dismiss the emotion. The first two, he could indulge, but not the last. Never the last. He had worked too hard for his position at court, his military command, to sacrifice it now for such perverted pleasures. He had never found his soldiers attractive, even one as handsome, objectively, as Kanath. Could he list the lads who were likely to be popular with the ladies because of their looks? Of course, but he had never had any interest in them himself. He had always looked toward the women, appreciating their softness and sweet, gentle curves.

  Kanath's hair had been soft, the skin of his neck as sweet as any he had ever tasted….

  Rhicer shook his head, rejecting the wayward thought. He was not going to do this, not going to ruin a valued friendship over a momentary lapse of sanity. His heart twinged at the thought of losing Kanath's friendship. The young man was a breath of fresh air in Rhicer's staid existence. For so long, he had trusted only Rynes and Prince Emyl, had allowed no one else close, even as friends, though he had plenty of acquaintances among the other soldiers. Then a few years ago, the prince had promoted a promising young soldier to second in command of Rhicer's patrol. He had protested because of the man's youth, but Emyl had insisted, and Rhicer had slowly gained another friend. Kanath kept him on his toes with his antics, yet the younger man surprised him as well with his grasp of tactics. Together, they made a formidable pair. Only Tinrelm's patrol had more success against the Mordyn, a title Rhicer had no interest in trying to wrest from their prince’s chosen heir.

  A sudden bustle on the deck drew their attention. Grateful to have anything to think about other than the unwanted, unwelcome desire that had swamped them during the night, both men rose to see what was going on. They immediately recognized Princess Nische’s maidservant.

  Looking at each other with concern, they approached her. “What is wrong, Bragnae?” Rhicer asked kindly. “You seem troubled.”

  “It’s gone missing!” Bragnae wailed, wringing her hands in frustration.

  “Whatever it is, it can’t have gone far,” Kanath pointed out reasonably. “If it was on the ship yesterday, ’tis still on the ship this morning. Tell us what is missing and we will help you look.”

  “Oh, no! I couldn’t do that!” she protested. “’Tis a secret, only meant to be shared with the princess and her bridegroom on their wedding night.”

  Rhicer frowned. “Something as valuable as that should certainly be found immediately. Are you sure you cannot tell us? We would be discreet, of course. We are in the prince’s confidence. He would surely share with us later the nature of the secret.”

  Bragnae tugged nervously on the end of her braid, but in the end, she suspected they were right. If she had any hope of finding the love potion before some hapless soldier drank the brew and found himself irrevocably in love, she would need help. There were parts of the ship she would not be able to search on her own. “’Tis a bottle of wine,” she told them softly, “but not any bottle of wine. It has a rose in the wax seal.”

  Rhicer’s heart pounded suddenly in his chest. “And what makes this wine so special?” he asked, leaning forward to speak softly enough so that only Kanath would be able to hear.

  “It is a love potion,” she explained, embarrassed. “Nische’s mother made it for her to share with her husband to ensure a happy marriage for them. If someone else drank it….” She trailed off, not wanting to even imagine the imbroglio that could cause.

  Rhicer heard the smothered gasp from his friend and fellow soldier. “A rose seal, you say?” he repeated, though his own stomach was clenching at the thought. “We can certainly look for the bottle. Someone must have taken it from the stores, not realizing what it was. If you return below, we will bring it to you when we find it.”

  Bragnae nodded slowly, relieved to be free of that responsibility. “I will be with my mistress,” she told them.

  As soon as they were alone, Rhicer turned to Kanath. “Do not say a word,” he ordered. “Let me think.”

  Kanath held his tongue, his thoughts racing. A love potion. It would explain everything that had passed between them, but it also meant…. His face fell. He could not be in love with Rhicer. As much as he liked and respected the older man, he wanted a home, a family, children. Had he condemned them both to a life of misery with his thoughtless actions?

  There had to be a way out of this, Rhicer mused. Every potion had an antidote. Any herbalist knew that. It was simply a question of finding one who knew the antidote to this one. “What happened to the bottle?” he asked softly.

  “I don’t know,” Kanath replied. “I guess it’s still where we were sleeping.”

  “Get it and hide it,” Rhicer ordered. “If she is right and we did drink a love potion, we will need whatever remains in the bottle to find a way to reverse the spell. No one can know.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that?” Kanath snapped. “You, at least, had a chance at real love instead of some… spell. If we can’t find a way out of this, I will never know what it’s like to truly love someone. So forgive me if I’m a little on edge.”

  Rhicer’s face turned thoughtful. He had considered his own discomfort with the situation, quite sure Kanath’s matched it. He had not, however, considered their words from the night before, considered that Kanath was still young enough to look for love. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but if you hadn’t—”

  “If I hadn’t,” Kanath retorted. “Fine. Blame it on me. Yes, I took a bottle of wine, one among many, but you drank too, Rhicer. You didn’t have to have any. You didn’t have to share it with me. That was your choice.”

  He stormed off, grabbing the bottle from where it lay next to their cloaks, still entangled from the night. Scowling over his shoulder, Kanath grabbed his garment too, and stalked off, leaving a very bemused Rhicer in his wake.

  With a groan, the blond sank to the deck of the ship and buried his face in his knees. What the hell were they supposed to do now? He pushed aside the desire to go after Kanath, to pull the young man into his arms and apologize, showering his face with kisses until his apology was accepted. That impulse came from the potion, and he had no intention of giving in to it. On the other hand, he could not leave things unsettled between them. Kanath was his right hand when it came to their patrol, the two of them working together so seamlessly that he often imagined they could read each other’s minds. He refused to lose that. Regardless of what the elixir made him feel, he was still the master of his own actions.

  Rising from where he crouched, he went in search of Kanath. The ship was small enough that the young man would not be able to hide for long.

  Angry at himself, Kanath huddled in a dank, unused corner of the hold. Rhicer had told him a hundred times not to borrow things without asking first. He had always laughed it off, insisting that no one would notice one missing bottle, one small knife, one plain sword. His friend would shrug at his flippancy and tell him that one day he would surely regret it. He regretted it now, and not only was he paying the price for it, but Rhicer was as well, something that struck Kanath as incredibly unfair. His friend deserved better than that, better than to be stuck with an irresponsible youth with no more sense than to steal a love potion meant for his lord and lady. Rhicer deserved… he could not even make himself think it, not with the magic herbs pumping in his veins, affecting his every thought. Whatever, whomever Rhicer might deserve, Kanath wanted him for himself.

  His eyes closed as he re
membered what it felt like to wake up in Rhicer’s arms, to have the warrior’s strong body next to his, almost beneath his, cradling him, supporting him. The flat, hair-dusted chest had felt strange that morning, accustomed as he was to a woman’s body next to his, but now his fingers itched to feel it again, to learn its contours and sensitivities. Would Rhicer’s nipples be as sensitive as Kanath’s own? Would he take the time to linger and allow Kanath to do the same? He had heard enough gossip among the women of the court to know that Rhicer was a favorite among them, always conscientious and courteous, ensuring their pleasure before finding his own. Would he treat Kanath the same way, caring for a male lover as generously as he had cared for a female?

  Blinking at his wayward thoughts, Kanath grimaced. He would never find out. Even if he could work his own mind around the mechanics of making love with a man, he could never ask Rhicer to consider it. It was unthinkable! His friend was still in love with a woman dead twenty years! He would never truly want anything to do with Kanath. He was already talking about finding a way to break the spell. And that was the right way to deal with the situation. There was simply no other choice.

  “Kanath?” he heard Rhicer’s voice calling. “What are you doing down here?”

  “Hiding,” Kanath admitted. “Thinking.”

  “And what were you thinking?” Rhicer asked. He did not have to ask what the young man was hiding from.

  “Do you know someone who can break the potion?”

  “I think so,” Rhicer replied. “North of the village where I grew up, there lives an old woman and her daughter. People go to them when they’re sick, when they think they’ve been cursed, when they need assistance. They’re the only ones I know who might be able to help us.”

  “We have to go and see them, then,” Kanath declared. “As soon as we can get away from court. We cannot let this continue.”

  “I know,” Rhicer said, a note of sadness creeping into his voice. He knew the feelings in his chest were not real, that they were brought on by that damned potion, but it had been so long since he felt anything but desolation. The idea of returning to that after knowing the warm flush of love again was disheartening. “We’ll go as soon as we land. There are enough soldiers to escort Princess Nische to court and we have enough standing that Lord Emyl will accept our word that we had an urgent errand that could not wait. As long as we do not miss the wedding, two weeks hence, he will forgive us a short absence.”

  Kanath looked up at Rhicer with pleading eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “You always told me I’d get myself in trouble if I kept taking things. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble too.”

  Rhicer waved a dismissive hand. “We have other things to worry about than casting blame,” he insisted. “What’s done is done.”

  “This will not… change us, will it?” the young man asked. “I mean, when the spell is broken, we will go back to desiring women rather than men, right? We will again be the good friends we always were, without this… tension between us.”

  “Of course,” Rhicer assured his lieutenant, inwardly praying for just such an occurrence. He could deal with many things, even losing his desire to bed the women of the court, but he could not deal with losing Kanath.

  All of Ageselm turned out in celebration of the union of Prince Emyl and Nische, Princess of Mordyna, their union securing peace in the land and allowing Emyl to claim the throne. The court celebrated within the keep, the rest of the populace accommodated in pavilions outside. The night was cool and clear, the moon full as spring turned to summer, an auspicious time, according to the local sages, for such an important wedding.

  Outside, the peasants danced and made merry, while inside the priest spoke the words of blessing on the couple. Though no one spoke of it in the cleric’s presence, everyone understood that they would be blessed again, much later, in the ways of the pagan gods.

  Rhicer stood restlessly in the back of the chapel, his hand clutching the hilt of his sword. Until the wedding vows were spoken and the marriage consummated, he would not drop his guard. Nothing could disrupt this historic moment, not even his own wild longings.

  He and Kanath had done as they agreed, leaving the princess’s entourage as soon as the ship landed, having told Bragnae that the potion was nowhere to be found, that it had surely been consumed by some hapless solider and the bottle thrown overboard to hide the evidence. She had been distraught at the idea, insisting that they find out who it was so she could explain the situation to him. They promised they would tell her if they saw anyone acting strangely, confident enough in their self-control to hide their growing feelings for each other from her.

  They had not discussed it again, not wanting to risk being overheard, but each had been aware of what was developing between them, spurred on by a potion too powerful to ignore. Rhicer caught himself staring at Kanath at odd times, watching his fellow soldier with a possessiveness that could not be explained away as anything other than love. He told himself it was the elixir working in him, but it did not make the feelings less real or less demanding.

  Occasionally, he would sense Kanath’s eyes on him as well. He tried not to turn at those moments and seek out the young man, tried to maintain the pretense that nothing had changed between them. Sometimes, he succeeded, but just as often, he did not, his eyes meeting Kanath’s with unerring accuracy, as if he instinctively knew where to find his lieutenant. He refused to consider that he might be subconsciously keeping track of the younger man. That he had done just that, consciously, with Eldvese when he was courting her, made him all the more determined to chalk his awareness up to his usual battle-ready wits.

  He had succeeded to some extent while they were still on the ship. Once they had reached shore and headed north, it had grown ever more difficult. They traveled alone to see the witches, and without the buffer of other soldiers and their duties between them, their burgeoning desire grew progressively more difficult to ignore. It started simply enough with the everyday gestures of assistance that had become second nature between them long before they ever drank the potion. Kanath would hand him something and their fingers would brush. Rhicer found himself asking the other man to pass him things just to have that excuse for contact, however fleeting.

  Kanath had not helped either, his breath catching almost imperceptibly each time, little gasps that went straight to Rhicer’s loins and his heart, making him want to hear them again. Nighttime had been the worst, lying side by side in their tent, shivering from the chill yet afraid to scoot closer to share warmth for fear of what else would transpire between them. The distance between their bodies had not stopped Kanath’s face from haunting Rhicer’s dreams, the little breaths magnified in his imagination until they were full-fledged cries of passion. The dream lover from the ship returned each night, no longer faceless, but graced with Kanath’s features, transfigured with desire as he responded to Rhicer’s every touch, every kiss and caress. He woke each morning painfully hard, painfully aware of how close the object of his desire lay, how easy it would be to roll over and take the other man in his arms. Kanath would not turn him away. The love potion was torturing the younger man as surely as it was Rhicer himself. One move, one inviting gesture, and he knew what would happen.

  And he knew they would both regret it later. The potion was working on them, twisting their emotions and desires, but it could not twist their reality. It could not make an affair between them more acceptable. It could not give them a place in court or in the military if the truth became known. It could not give Kanath his dream of a family. Rhicer did not even consider his own forgotten hopes. He had set them aside after Eldvese died, unwilling to take the risk of loving and losing again. He had dreamed of other things, of a place at court, of a rank in the military. The potion threatened both of those ambitions if he indulged the pointless desire that had sprung up between them. And while he did not know for sure, he feared that every innocent touch only deepened the hold the elixir had on them. If that was true, then makin
g a reality of the dreams that tormented him would surely cement the magic so fully it could never be undone.

  It had taken them three days to reach the house of Mistress Rodard, three long days of riding side by side, casting yearning glances at each other from the corners of their eyes, three long nights of struggling not to roll into each other’s arms and sate the passion that simmered along their nerves.

  The wise woman had examined the bottle carefully when they had haltingly explained the situation. “A rose sigil?” she asked after sniffing the contents.

  “Yes, a rosebud,” Kanath replied.

  She had raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Maeve of Mordyna, then,” she commented. “Her love potion is one of the most powerful ever brewed. They say she made it out of desperation, determined not to live her life in misery when she realized what manner of man she had married. Even she was not powerful enough to change his nature, but he has not raised his hand to her in anger since she slipped him this brew in place of his evening’s wine some twenty years ago.”