Kyou Kara Maou Fan Fiction ❯ Inexorable Flow ❯ Part 18 ( Chapter 18 )

Disclaimer: I don't own Kyou Kara Maou! - It belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I'm not making any money from writing it.

Warnings: Yaoi (male x male), Yuuri x Wolfram. Some other pairings. Angst. Adult topics.

A/N 1: Age: Yuuri - 43. Wolfram…let's say he is about the same age as Yuuri just a little older. Lakarde - 10.

A/N 2: Arisu - Kyota's younger stepbrother, the child of Katarina's second husband, Edohi. Arisu is just an episodic character.

 

Inexorable Flow

 

by chayron (lttomb@yahoo.com), beta-read by Melisenda

 

Part 18

 

Slowly, a shiny speck of sunlight was traveling over a cheek. With every passing minute it crept forward until Yuuri blinked and rubbed his left eye. He had forgotten to draw the curtains. He rolled to his other side to hide from the sun's rays. He threw his arm over Wolfram's waist, his head dipping forwards until his forehead rubbed against the blond's back. The seeping scent invaded Yuuri's nose.

 

“Mhmhmm...” Wolfram hummed, appreciating the contact. He was still half-asleep and would have probably returned to dreamland if not for Yuuri, whose left eye, after hearing the soft sound, opened. Tentatively, Yuuri pressed his lips to the back before him. He started strewing it with soft kisses. With a silent moan, Wolfram shifted.

 

“Would it be okay if…?” Yuuri left the question hanging. Wolfram had not fully recovered, and Yuuri wanted to make this the blond's choice. But from the way Wolfram was reacting, it was obvious that he also needed release. “Not intercourse, but…?” Yuuri felt that he was being somewhat pushy but the scent wafting from Wolfram was crushing his will to be considerate.

 

“No need to be so timid,” Wolfram muttered. “I was dreaming about sex all morning.”

 

Yuuri reached over Wolfram's waist to slide his hand over the blond's crotch. It did not seem that Wolfram was lying. Wolfram shifted, turning around to face him. Yuuri saw that the blond was still in that sleepy but warm daze that people sometimes woke up from. A warm daze filled with vague dreams of bodies, moans and arousal.

 

Yuuri rolled over to the side of the bed where he grabbed a few tissues from the box on the nightstand, then he returned to the blond's side. After putting the tissues between them, Yuuri's hands slid over the blond's right side to push his pajama pants down. Wolfram wiggled to help him. Yuuri pushed down his own then. He slickened his palm with his saliva. Both of them grunted as Yuuri's palm slid over their erections and brought them together. Sliding his palm up and down, he brought them to full hardness. Both of their breath quickened then started going in sharp gasps as Yuuri's palm moved faster and faster, his fingers rubbing over the oozing heads.

 

“I'm…” grunted Wolfram, tensing.

 

Yuuri grabbed the readied tissues just before Wolfram came. His own length throbbing, Yuuri wiped him. Then he took care of himself. He came a minute later. He lay for a few moments to get his bearings back then cleaned them both thoroughly.

 

Wolfram, with a contented smile on his face, soon fell asleep again. Yuuri, after lazing in the bed, enjoying the afterglow for about ten minutes, got up, threw his robe on, found a change of clothes and headed toward the baths. He halted on his way in one of the corridors after seeing Lakarde coming his way. The boy must have intended to visit his father. Yuuri thought about sending Lakarde back, but then shrugged mentally. Lakarde had to finally face the reality of their relationship sometime.

 

“Your Majesty.”

 

“Lakarde,” Yuuri nodded, passing him without stopping.

 

Somewhat suspicious, Lakarde turned to look at the king's back. Something in Yuuri's aura unnerved him. He hurried his steps towards the royal chambers.

 

Lakarde walked over to the bed where his father was lying, still asleep. The smell slapped him in the face. He knew it - the smell of sperm. The mixing scents of Yuuri and his father made Lakarde grit his teeth. So that was why Yuuri had given him that weird look in the corridor. His father had not completely recovered yet and that damn Yuuri… Lakarde stopped himself from ranting on in his head. Stopped because now Wolfram looked much better, his sleeping form peacefully sprawled under the covers. Maybe it had been the right thing to do after all.

 

Sighing, Lakarde sat down on the bed at Wolfram's side. He watched his father's face for some time then his gaze went to the window. He started as, after a few moments a hand pressed to his head, gentle fingers threading through his hair.

 

“It's alright, Lakarde. You needn't worry about me.”

 

The hand tugged him down, and Lakarde let himself be maneuvered until his head rested on his father's chest. These moments were rare and, despite his awkwardly bent back and Yuuri's scent still hanging in the air, he loved every second of it.

 

XXXXX

 

“What do you want to do about Amae?”

 

Wolfram's fork, with a piece of fried chicken, stopped midway to his mouth. With a suspicious look on his face, Wolfram coolly observed Yuuri for a moment. Then his fork moved. He started chewing on the chicken.

 

“What?” Yuuri snapped. “It was you who said I should leave him alone. He's your responsibility now.”

 

The other people at the table quieted. Interested, both Gwendal and Lakarde looked at Yuuri. What was that weird note in the king's voice?

 

Wolfram reached for the glass of juice at his side. He took a sip, then another, and put it back onto the table. “Yuuri,” he said finally, “we'll discuss this after the meal; when we are alone.”

 

A quick glace at the other diners clearly warned them that this would not be a good topic for them to comment on just now, and that done, Wolfram continued eating. From time to time he would cast a look at Yuuri. He could not believe that Yuuri was still jealous of Amae. It had been twenty years since the last time they saw Amae. Well, yes, Amae did appear again, and Amae did interfere to save him, and he did like the concubine to some extent and maybe he did consider Amae his friend and maybe he did feel obliged to Amae…. Wolfram groaned inwardly. He could see why his husband did not like Amae.

 

Sullen, Wolfram chewed on his chicken. Two days ago all ten noble families were sent a summons to be present at a trial where Faraya would have to face the consequences for his crimes: for keeping Wolfram captive twenty years ago; for arranging two attacks on Wolfram on Earth; for kidnapping him and trying to exchange him for his rights to rule Ekara again; and finally for attacking Yuuri and involving Aliran's ruler.

 

Wolfram did not like the idea of the trial. Faraya or Amae might talk too much. Even the Great Sage knew what happened twenty years ago and might let the information slip. To hear Faraya or anyone else, in front of all the noble families, say that he had been raped was a vision from a nightmare.

 

Another thing that was worrying Wolfram was Kyota. As far as he knew, Kyota had not been informed about the kidnapping or Faraya and Amae being here. After his mother, as a head of the family, got the summons… Wolfram was not even sure how Kyota might react.

 

“So?” Yuuri demanded as soon as he and Wolfram were in their chambers. “What are you going to do with Amae?”

 

Wolfram got up from the sofa and went to the cupboard that held the wine and glasses. He felt a headache starting. He brought a bottle and the glasses to the table and flopped into the armchair. Then he started opening the bottle.

 

“I'm going to give him a job. That's what I'm going to do,” Wolfram said after the cork gave with a soft pop.

 

Yuuri's eyes narrowed. “In the Castle?”

 

“Yes, in the Castle. He has to support himself somehow.”

 

Yuuri took the offered glass then swallowed a big gulp from it. “A job?” he asked in the sweetest voice. “Are you going to open a brothel here?”

 

Although Wolfram was stunned that Yuuri had let his jealousy get so far, he refused to react. “I asked around in the Castle and I was informed that one of the servants from the kitchen had drowned two days ago. I intend to hire Amae in his place.”

 

Yuuri took another gulp from his glass. “Will he agree?”

 

Wolfram nodded. “He will. He has no other choice.” The blond sighed at his husband's sour look. “It's only temporary. I'll come up with a better idea later.”

 

Yuuri churned the wine in his glass. With darkened eyes, he watched his wine as his husband finished his glass and placed it on the table, then Wolfram stood up.

 

“I'll go to the baths.”

 

Yuuri knocked the rest of his drink down. Abruptly, he stood up. Wolfram turned around at the sound of the glasses and the bottle jingling as Yuuri accidentally caught the tablecloth and nearly dragged it after him. Irritated, Yuuri smacked the cloth away, up onto the glasses and the bottle.

 

“What the hell are you doing?” Wolfram snorted, turning away and walking over to the wardrobe to get his pajamas.

 

There was the sound of quickly moving feet, then Wolfram gasped as his front suddenly hit the doors of the wardrobe.

 

“And you don't know?!” Yuuri hissed into his ear. “As if you have no idea!”

 

Wolfram felt Yuuri's hot breath against his right ear. Yuuri smelled of wine. Bracing his hands against the doors, he pushed himself off the wardrobe. At first Yuuri hesitated, using force to keep him trapped, then let him go. Wolfram turned around. He wrapped his arms around Yuuri's neck and shoulders. Unmoving, they stared at each other for a few seconds.

 

“You know, no matter how much I enjoy your jealousy,” Wolfram muttered finally, “he's only here temporarily. I consider him more a comrade-in-arms than anything else.”

 

“And this is what I don't get. What comrade-in-arms? Sounds stupid beyond comprehension. You don't like people like him. You usually don't.”

 

“Hmm…” Wolfram hummed, leaning his head back and resting it against the wardrobe door as he relaxed in Yuuri's hold. “I think you're mistaken,” he smiled lazily. “What about Kyota?”

 

Yuuri stared at him as if the similarity only now became apparent. “Are you trying to calm me down or make me even more jealous?” he asked finally.

 

“He helped me once and he came to help again. I...”

 

“This is what worries me the most,” Yuuri said darkly. “Why is he running after you?”

 

“Yuuri, have you ever heard of “friendship”?”

 

Yuuri laughed in disbelief. “You and that whore?”

 

“His profession is not really my business, darling.”

 

Yuuri frowned at Wolfram's warning tone. He realized he was being unreasonably jealous, but could not help it. He did not like his man getting worked up because of someone else. Why was Wolfram so bent on defending Amae?

 

“Oh, please, Yuuri!” Wolfram groaned at his husband's frown. “I met him twenty years ago! I did not even think about him until now.” He was lying, of course, but all of this was irrelevant anyway.

 

Yuuri sighed. He leaned his body against Wolfram's and put his head on his shoulder. He closed his eyes. “I'm… I think I'm more worried about him taking the initiative, and you creating opportunities for that by being too friendly with him.”

 

Laughing softly, Wolfram petted Yuuri's head. “You know that I'm not that naïve to be insensibly seduced. Especially by the likes of Amae.”

 

“Well... He's a professional, isn't he?” Yuuri muttered.

 

“Exactly. That's why,” Wolfram chuckled. Yuuri raised his head and Wolfram grinned at Yuuri's questioning look. “Don't worry. I don't interest him. Currently all that interests him is Faraya.” He placed a warm kiss on Yuuri's lips. “Appeased?”

 

Yuuri pursed his lips. “Don't make me feel like a child.”

 

“But aren't you pouting?”

 

Yuuri rolled his eyes then leaned in to return the kiss. He had to agree that Wolfram was good at handling him.

 

XXXXX

 

Lakarde stopped in front of the door to the royal chambers and reached out to the handle. He heard laughter. He stopped to listen but he could not hear what was said; only bursts of loud laughter penetrated the door. He knocked.

 

Wolfram and Amae were sitting at the table in the middle of the room, a bottle of wine open on the table. The bottle was nearly empty. Amae turned to grin owlishly at Lakarde who stood in the open doorway while Wolfram was finishing his glass.

 

“He looks almost exactly like you,” Amae finally commented. “Well, when you were a child.” He thought for a moment. “Not that I've ever seen you as a child.”

 

“Hmm…” Wolfram contemplated, putting his glass onto the table. He blinked at the bottle.

 

“I'm not a child,” Lakarde stated.

 

Wolfram looked at his son, wondering. “Last time I checked you were,” he said.

 

“You behave childish enough to me,” Amae pointed out, grabbing the bottle out from under Wolfram's nose. He started pouring the last drops into his glass. He ignored Wolfram's glass that he stretched out to him. “You've had enough. Your husband will tear my head off if I let you get drunk.”

 

Lakarde wanted to say that he could not care less how things looked to Amae but decided against it. It seemed that the concubine was on overly familiar and good terms with his father.

 

Amae swallowed his wine in a gulp then stood up. His brain struggled to handle all the alcohol he had been drinking. For a few seconds he stood gripping at the table then let go carefully. Slowly, he drifted to the door.

 

“So you start tomorrow at six in the morning.”

 

“Right,” Amae said, reaching out for the handle. “Thanks.”

 

Wolfram hummed something under his breath. Regretfully he looked at the empty bottle on the table. He yawned loudly.

 

“Lakarde?”

 

“Yes, Father?”

 

“There's a letter in the upper drawer,” he pointed at the cupboard. “I think I'd like to read it now.”

 

Lakarde went to the drawer where he found the letter. He saw that it was from his grandfather. His eye also caught sight of a small glossy packet in the drawer. Lakarde closed the drawer and carried the letter to Wolfram. While his father was reading the letter, he went back to the drawer to investigate.

 

Lakarde thought of his grandfather not without annoyance. He had never liked the man. His feelings sprang from how his father and grandfather acted around each other. There was some sort of tangible tension and distance between them, no matter what the circumstances. Besides… he had heard his grandfather making a comment about Wolfram inheriting Cecilie's womanly face. Innocent jokes were fine and he did not mind them, but Lakarde was sure that it was a veiled insult. A man who could say that about his son was not worth his attention. Especially when Lakarde was pretty sure that he had a very similar face to his father.

 

“What the…?” muttered Lakarde.

 

From the armchair where he was reading the letter, Wolfram looked over to the drawer that Lakarde was leaning over. His son was holding a small colorful packet in one hand while his other raised a shiny batch of square folded objects. Lakarde put the packet onto the cupboard and took interest in the square objects. The string of shiny things unrolled with a flop, its end falling back into the drawer.

 

Wolfram felt blush threatening to engulf his face. Very likely Lakarde had been rummaging about in the drawer trying to find something to appease his sweet tooth. He wondered if he should tell Lakarde that what he was holding were condoms.

 

“Hmm?” Lakarde gave him a questioning look, raising the garland. It seemed he was already pretty sure that what he was holding was not sweets.

 

“Just open one of them.” Rubbing his forehead, Wolfram went back to reading the letter. He was glad he was drunk enough not to mind this. He heard the sounds of tearing then silence followed.

 

“Gh.”

 

The sound was that of realization. Head still, but throwing a glance sideways, Wolfram looked at his red-faced son who now was staring at the unrolled condom in his hands. He was glad that Lakarde was old enough to understand the purpose of it by himself. He was not sure he wanted to explain things in detail. He doubted there was enough alcohol in the entire Castle to make him feel like explaining.

 

“You can keep them,” Wolfram said.

 

“Haahh…” Lakarde drawled. “Th-thanks. I s-suppose.”

 

Wolfram wondered if Lakarde could be any redder. In a few seconds Lakarde folded everything up and stuffed it in his pocket and scurried out of the room.

 

Wolfram yawned. “Well, let's see how this doesn't make you a child.”

 

XXXXX

 

As he was told that Wolfram and Yuuri were in a meeting, Kyota decided to take care of his stomach first. But when he swung the kitchen door open he stopped short, his feet rooted to the floor. His hand stayed frozen on the door, not letting it close while he stared in front of him. The scene that he saw was one from twenty years ago. It made him feel as if he were on Ekara again, in the middle of the camp watching Amae cleaning fish that he and Asami had just caught.

 

So as not to disperse the image, Kyota stood still, observing Amae dressing fish. Kyota thought that he had probably gone mad or gotten sunstroke, but he wanted to savor this pleasant delusion for as long as possible. But the longer he stood the more conflicting details he noticed. First, the ambience did not remind one of a military camp - this was a kitchen. A kitchen filled with steam and heat, clattering cooking utensils and smells of various foods. Amae wasn't wearing his usual tunic either. He had never seen this green one. Besides, it did not feel like an illusion at all and he did not feel like fainting either. Actually, he felt pretty well right now.

 

“Amae?” Kyota called softly, almost sure that now the scene before his eyes would just pop like a soap bubble.

 

The man at the table raised his head to look at him. Blue eyes got incredibly wide after seeing Kyota at the door.

 

“Kyota?” Amae asked in disbelief. He stared at the older male for a few long seconds then lowered the knife that he had been using to dressing the fish onto the cutting board. He looked around. Lunch had ended twenty minutes ago and the kitchen was deserted. The cooks would come back in an hour or two, and by then he would be finished with his task.

 

Wondering what he would find in the larder, Amae went to the sink to wash his hands. “What are you doing here? Hungry? Want something to eat? I'll get you something.”

 

Kyota finally stepped into the kitchen and removed his hand off the door, letting it close behind him. The question seemed absurd to him. Him? What was he doing here? This was coming from a man who had disappeared twenty years ago..? Who cared about eating?

 

“Me? What am I doing here?” Kyota questioned while approaching Amae. “Never mind me. I'm more interested in the phenomenon of you being here.”

 

Alarmed, Amae turned to him. There was something very disturbing in Kyota's voice. What he saw on Kyota's face made him even more worried. Kyota started advancing, and Amae started backing away. He felt his legs press against one of the tables.

 

Amae staggered and grunted as a heavy slap landed across his face. His ears ringing, Amae held his burning cheek. He felt lucky that Kyota spared his nose, which was still healing. Not looking at Kyota, he rubbed his face then turned to go to the larder.

 

“I think there are some chicken wings and stew left.” He motioned with his hand. “Sit down.”

 

“Amae!” Kyota yelled at his back.

 

“I don't have anything to say to you,” Amae said, opening the door to the larder.

 

There was a sharp intake of air heard. “You…” Kyota hissed.

 

“I never vowed to stay with you,” Amae said, his voice low, reconciling. “There were no promises.”

 

“It's not about that!” Kyota yelled. “You… I loved you!” he spat out in a voice full of hurt.

 

From the doorway, Amae turned around to give him a bitter smile. “And I loved him. I still do.”

 

“You…”

 

“I'm sorry,” Amae said, leaning on the door. He did not think Kyota was hungry anymore. “I really am,” he repeated. He tensed as Kyota advanced forward, his posture threatening, face filled with whirling emotions one chasing after another in a blur. But then the man stopped.

 

Amae exhaled loudly as the door behind Kyota closed with a glass-shattering slam. Still unsure if Kyota would decide to come back or not, he pushed himself off the larder door. Slowly, he drifted back to the table where he again undertook the task of dressing the fish.

 

XXXXX

 

Wolfram left the meeting hall and closed the door. He saw Kyota leaning on one of the windowsills in the corridor. Kyota had his arms crossed over his chest and was staring at him intently. Wolfram knew that look.

 

“Let's go to my study,” Wolfram said, motioning for Kyota to follow him.

 

Once in the study, Kyota started pacing the floor silently. A minute later, he dropped into the chair, in front of Wolfram who had sat down earlier.

 

“Why didn't you tell me?” Kyota asked in a reproaching tone.

 

Wolfram shrugged. He was not sure why. Somehow he had known how Kyota would react.

 

“Why is he in the Castle? In the kitchen?!” Kyota threw his arms around in his agitation.

 

“He's much more useful there than rotting in the dungeon.”

 

Kyota glared at his friend. He knew why Wolfram had said nothing to him about Amae. Wolfram was trying to walk a fine line between the two of them. Wolfram knew his and Amae's confrontation and the further interaction was going to be unpleasant and tried to postpone it for as long as he was able to.

 

Kyota left his chair and again started walking up and down the study from one corner to another. Wolfram watched him out of the corner of his eye. This was another headache.

 

“What did you think when you saw Amae, Kyota?” Wolfram asked. “Did you think you had been a fool to chase after that worthless man? Or did your heart start thumping madly, like in spring? So which was it? Tell me and it will be obvious.”

 

Kyota nearly started growling. “He betrayed me! He betrayed you and Yuuri! What do you think I felt?!” Kyota yelled at him, his dark blue eyes burning.

 

“All he did was leave with the man he loved,” Wolfram said calmly, not affected by Kyota's anger. “You know, if Yuuri ever decided to go against another ruler, I'd also stand by his side.”

 

Kyota laughed. “You're comparing Yuuri to Faraya?!”

 

“No, I'm just comparing the feeling.”

 

The blue-haired man gave him a grim look.

 

“I also suspect that Amae hoped to influence Faraya's future plans. He did to some degree,” Wolfram added.

 

“You are overrating that whore.”

 

Wolfram shrugged. “It's a fact that he did try to help, though.”

 

Kyota's burning eyes set on Wolfram's face. “I hate that bitch!”

 

“No, you love him.”

 

Kyota opened his mouth, intending to protest, but then his lips stuck together again. He suddenly was brought years back when he was saying those words to Wolfram.

 

“I hate him,” Kyota spat distastefully, turning around.

 

Wolfram leaned into the back of the chair and slowly shook his head while watching Kyota slamming the door behind him. “And now he's running away,” he sighed. “Which of us are you trying to convince? Me or yourself?”

 

XXXXX

 

At the dinner table, Kyota was filled in on the current situation with Faraya. The first meeting of the court was going to take place in three days. Yuuri had also sent Murata to Ekara to call as witnesses about ten people who had been working for Faraya before he disappeared. Nuuos and his subordinates were also going to be present. Despite this, Yuuri wondered about Nuuos' eligibility to testify.

 

“When is your mother arriving?” Wolfram asked.

 

“She and Arisu should be here about tomorrow noon,” Kyota answered. “He's also bringing his new girlfriend. He wanted you to meet her.”

 

Wolfram nibbled on his bread. In some ways Arisu still acted like a youngster, showing off his newly acquired “accessories” to everyone. The prince could bet that this new woman was even flashier and even more self-obsessed than the previous one. This was exactly the reason why Arisu had never been in a relationship for longer than a month. In comparison, “Kyota the Heartbreaker” seemed to lose his shine. But it made Wolfram wonder whether Kyota had been a bad influence on his younger brother or it was just something in Katarina's blood.

 

Dinner would have gone smoothly if not for Amae showing up to refill the gravy boat at Gwendal's request.

 

Kyota's chair pushed back from the table while his amused eyes set on Amae, who swiftly walked over to the table and exchanged the empty gravy boat for a full one. “A servant…?” Kyota drawled mockingly. “What a drawback in your career!”

 

With a radiant smile on his face, Amae looked at him. “Why, you misunderstood something, Sir. It's a huge step up from being a whore. Now, please excuse me,” he bowed and hurried back to the door with the empty gravy boat in his hands.

 

Kyota's eyes bore into the wooden door that had closed behind Amae. A few seconds later, he turned back to the table. Everyone was pretending that they had not heard anything, but Kyota could see that Wolfram was trying to suppress a smile. Kyota glared at him.

 

“I suggest the wine,” Wolfram motioned with his hand at the couple of bottles on the table. “The finest quality.” He chuckled as Kyota did exactly that, pouring himself a glassful.

 

Nonetheless, after filling his glass, Kyota just stared at it idly. He started swirling the wine. Amae was exactly the same as he remembered. While he had already started shaving his beard, the former concubine had not aged at all. Amae's long dark hair; big, intently blue eyes were framed by a face that put many women to shame… The same long black hair that had unconsciously made him want to dislike Amae - Yuuri had the same color hair. But then, Amae was nothing like Yuuri. Amae was loud, obnoxious, physically weak and perverted, acted like a drama-queen but could manipulate people pretty well. The only similarity to Yuuri was that all of those qualities were overlaid by some strange feel of innocence around Amae.

 

“Damn it,” Kyota cursed, chugging the wine.

 

XXXXX

 

It was late already. Amae hurried his step. The corridor leading to the baths seemed to be unusually dark, with only a few torches lightening the long corridor. It was the third day of his duty in the kitchen and today he had been working until late. Working until all of the dishes were done and the tables scrubbed clean. Amae's step faltered. Being a servant did not bother him. What bothered him were those lowlifes who were standing in front of him. He was not that loved among the servants and guards. Being the concubine of the enemy did that to one. He presumed that his loosely flying tongue also had something to do with it too.

 

Ignoring the two figures, Amae walked past them. He stumbled as he was suddenly pushed. His shower gel and the sponge fell onto the floor. Amae did not risk bending down to gather them up. He knew the men. Rass worked with him in the kitchen. The second one had just recently been accepted into gardeners.

 

The gardener's hands shot out to grab him and Amae stepped backwards along the corridor to avoid him.

 

“What do you want?” Although Amae did not know why he was bothering to ask - even being a half-blood Mazoku - he could smell the excitement and anticipation in the air.

 

“I think it's pretty clear what we want, hm?” Rass spat. He shot forward and this time Amae did not take any chances. He just turned around and ran back down the corridor. He had only crossed a few meters before he almost smashed face-first into a third figure that had been looming behind the door leading into the main hall.

 

“Gotcha,” the man said, slamming the door shut behind him and leaning on it. His wide grin promised no good in that half-light.

 

Amae could hear the other two approaching. The man who was blocking the exit also moved forward. He had seen the face around a few times, wasn't he a messenger or something? Turning so to put his back to the wall, Amae stared at the three. He absentmindedly wondered why he was still holding the towel and shampoo in his hands.

 

“Hold him!” the gardener hissed furiously as Amae's nails slashed across his face.

 

Amae yelped as his arms were grabbed and he was hurled against the wall, his back hitting it painfully.

 

“Keep his mouth closed!”

 

The concubine fought against the hold on his wrists but won nothing. Someone's palm pressed over his mouth and he was pulled off the wall with a clear intention to turn him around. Amae's leg swung forward and he bit down, hard.

 

“You bitch!”

 

Amae's head rattled against the wall at the punch. The gardener was cradling his hand; while Rass was writhing on the floor, soothing his jewels. Smashing the bottle of the shampoo against the wall, Amae spat the blood out. He wondered if any of his teeth were broken. Waiting a few months for them to grow back was not a thought he was fond of.

 

The messenger moved forward, and Amae slashed at the place where his neck had been a second ago. He was a little too slow against a full-blooded Mazoku, he knew that. But that did not stop him from slashing at the messenger's face again. Screaming, the man fell to the ground while holding his bleeding face in his hands.

 

Amae gasped in pain as the gardener kicked at his wrist. He dropped the neck of the bottle and cradled his wrist. The next kick was aimed at his stomach and Amae dropped to the floor with a loud wheeze. While he was trying to get on his hands and knees, his hair was grabbed. Wincing, Amae followed the lead of his pulled hair and stood up.

 

The gardener swung his arm. “You little…”

 

Amae blocked the blow with his right arm but the tug at his hair made him yelp in pain. Why were people always calling him little even if he was taller than them?!

 

“Hold the bitch there!” Rass yelled while finally getting to his feet. He was still soothing his abused crotch. He gritted his teeth in fury while glowering at Amae. “I'll fuck your ass then make you suck my dick until you choke!” he spat.

 

“Been there, done that.”

 

“Damn slut!”

 

Amae gagged as he was punched in the stomach again. A few seconds later, panting, he raised his head to look around. He found himself already lying on the floor, his clothes being ripped off. After trying to push the men away, it became clear to him that it was no use. The men were enraged and all he could do now was only to earn more punches and kicks.

 

His tunic was gone in a second, the messenger now grabbed at his underwear, tearing it off. The man's face was still dripping blood. Now it was all about revenge for him.

 

“So you aren't going to let me go, are you?” Amae gasped out. He yelped as his hair was grabbed again and he was turned around with his ass raised in the air.

 

“Gah!” The messenger let go of Amae and jumped away at the sudden flare of heat. Then he realized that he had been burned. The concubine's body was glowing with flame.

 

The messenger summoned the wind. A swish of air flattened Amae to the wall. But the next second a retaliating plume of fire swallowed the messenger himself. Amae's head turned to the side where the gardener had grabbed the splinter of the shampoo bottle and obviously intended to skewer him with it. The concubine's eyes flashed.

 

“Stop it right now!”

 

Amae's eyes snapped to the door where a couple of armed guards appeared. He did not know what to do or whether the guards were a new threat or not. As far as he knew, the castle guards were very adept in hand-to-hand combat and element wielding and in case they were a threat, he had no chance.

 

“Lower your arm!” shouted the older guard of the two at him.

 

Reluctantly, the concubine obeyed.

 

“Don't even think of summoning your element,” the same guard warned the lying messenger but after getting closer to him, it was more than obvious that the charred unconscious man was not even able to attempt that. “Shit, get a healer!” he ordered the younger guard. Still holding the sword in his hand, he turned to Amae.

 

The concubine stepped away, but all the man did was sheathe his sword and take off his jacket to put it on Amae to cover his nakedness. The guard was more than sure that after their brains started working again, the demonstration of the concubine's fire element would keep the other two men from moving.

 

“What happened?” the guard asked Amae.

 

“The three of them attacked me… intending rape,” the concubine confirmed the obvious.

 

The guard took a closer look at the concubine, but apart from the split lip, the swollen eye and a bouquet of blossoming bruises all over his body, it did not seem that the man had sustained serious damage. This had been bound to happen. He had warned his men to be on guard for this. The concubine was the subject of many disagreements, passions and interests and it had only been a question of time which had actually come surprisingly fast.

 

A few minutes later, Gisela, her assistants and five more guards rushed in. The guards went to the still standing men while Gisela knelt next to the messenger and opened her bag to find some painkillers. Then she started working on peeling the charred clothes off his burnt skin. The man screamed. A few seconds later, he fell unconscious again.

 

Amae felt a tug on his arm and raised his head to look at the guard. “We'll have to take you for further interrogation. I'll send one of them over to see to you after they are done here,” he said motioning at the messenger.

 

Absentmindedly, Amae nodded. He followed the guard down the corridor. They went to the northern wing of the castle where the security quarters were. The concubine found himself being led into a small room, but it did not seem anything like where an interrogation should take place. It was just a common study.

 

“Here,” the guard took a pair of sweatpants off the chair where they had been lying neatly folded. He tossed them to Amae who caught them awkwardly. The guard's eyes slid over the concubine's black and blue wrist. It did not seem broken or sprained, though.

 

The guard waited for Amae to pull the sweatpants on. “I'll interrogate those two first. Meanwhile you can have a nap,” he said while motioning to the couch behind Amae.

 

“Aren't you being too lenient with me?” the concubine asked already dropping onto the aforementioned couch.

 

“It's not like you can run away, is it?” the guard sighed.

 

The concubine shrugged at that, but both of them knew that it was impossible for Amae to hide having that hair color. Inside the castle walls it was possible to some extent, but there was no way to escape from the castle. “We'll still need for that third one to come round and talk. And that will obviously take a few days,” the guard added.

 

Amae nodded resignedly. As soon as the guard left, Amae sagged into the couch. Heaving a long sigh, he touched his lower lip then traced the contours where his eye was swelling. He wondered if he should have just given in instead of using Faraya's element. Being forced was not such a big deal to him. That charred body… Was it really necessary? But then… Faraya had released him. He did not want to start his life anew by going back to what he had experienced before.

 

For a few minutes, Amae stared at the ceiling then waved his hand to extinguish the candlestick on the table.

 

TBC

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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