Chapter Text
Nikandros was arguably the happiest man at the court and in the entire kingdom when, one day, after what felt like infinity, Laurent and Damen entered the throne room hand in hand, their faces and shoulders drawn to each other. He was thankful for many things, not only his Kings’ reconciliation and the return of peace at the court, but also for the fact that no one noticed Lady Vannes’ behaviour on the settee or perhaps the fact that no one cared enough to gossip about it. Laurent was busy being too unbothered by such matters to spread gossip and Isander was simply too gentle and kind to do such a thing. About courtiers, Nikandros wasn’t so sure, but he let his mind rest when seven days had passed and the court remained silent. Laurent and Damen weren’t silent at all about the matter of Lady Vannes’ drunken state and her bold attempts at flirting, but Nikandros could take it. He was, after all, accustomed to their nonsense.
In truth, Nikandros felt like an acrobat balancing on a tightrope, trying not to fall into the endless pit of paranoia and delusions. When he was certain that the court didn’t gossip, a strange kind of panic gripped him by the throat. What if Lady Vannes would be the one to spread the gossip? Nikandros began observing her at the court and the council meetings, glancing at her and weighing her each and every word until their dark eyes met more often than they didn’t. He knew he was being ridiculous but, even if his panic finally died, he couldn’t stop glancing at her, not knowing why.
The truth was that Nikandros liked Lady Vannes but not like this. He liked her because she was clever and witty, she was perceptive and quick to put a man in his place when he clearly needed that. He liked her sharp smiles and twinkling dark eyes, the way she didn’t care about anything at all as she leaned towards Laurent to whisper something into his ear. He liked her commanding demeanor and rustling skirts, usually blue or lilac, the way her dark braid kept bouncing against her back as she walked through the halls like she owned them. When she was tasked with something, she’d see it done and be perfect while doing it. Nothing else. Nikandros was aware of all of this but it was just admiration for her personality and strength of mind. He already promised himself that he wouldn’t let another Veretian lead him into the trap.
How could Nikandros not like Lady Vannes when she tore a man to shreds like it was nothing? How could he not like her when she was funny and almost as fierce as Laurent as she did so? Nikandros agreed with her most of the time and, on top of that, it was interesting to watch her with Laurent, the way they spoke to each other in hushed voices, their smirks, and wicked ideas. The sight of them both on the settee was a frequent one, Lady Vannes with a cup of red wine in her hand and Laurent with water, with courtiers and chaperones around them in a safe distance. Laurent had a way with women, Nikandros noticed after a while, not the romantic kind, but he certainly found kinship and comfort in their company. Lady Vannes was the first member of his council, after all, and Lady Loyse testified for him. There was also Damen who mentioned once that Laurent loved his mother very much and, to Nikandros’ delight, that the Vaskian women had many opinions about his cow-like eyelashes. For a moment, Nikandros thought that perhaps Laurent and Lady Vannes plotted it, but he quickly decided that he was driving himself insane.
All of this led Nikandros to the training yard where he accompanied Damen who insisted on tutoring Pallas himself. Pallas was the newest addition to his Kingsguard and, as reluctant as Nikandros was to admit it, he was a fine warrior despite his youth. The sweat covering his bronze skin shone in the sun and his curls were damp, sticking to his forehead. Nikandros wore him out, perhaps a little too frustrated with the Lady Vannes situation, and Damen told him to rest for a while, sending him a sideways glance. Now, Nikandros found himself angry, covered in sweat and sitting on a dainty chair beside Laurent who, for some reason, decided to be the spectator. He was sitting in his pretty laces with his legs crossed, reminding Nikandros of a wild cat sprawled in the sun. This frustrated him, too. This and the fact that Lazar stood a few feet away from them, leaning against a column with a dreamy expression on his face. Nikandros leaned back in his chair and felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. When he turned his head to Laurent, he saw that the viper had almost the same dreamy expression on his face as Lazar and the only difference between them was that Laurent’s eyes were only for Damen and Lazar’s for Pallas. That, for some unknown reason, also frustrated Nikandros.
“Do you need a handkerchief, Laurent?”
Damen was the perfect warrior, a work of art, and his body in a fight was the most glorious sight. Men, princes, and kings would work their whole life to be half as glorious as Damen in a fight and Nikandros could excuse admiration and awe expressed decently, but Laurent failed to do so. Laurent needed a few seconds to turn his attention to Nikandros. His blue eyes were on Damen’s arms and his hands, he let them wander over Damen’s body with awe and hunger. Laurent finally blinked twice and then turned his head.
“Pardon me?”
“A handkerchief,” Nikandros said slowly in Veretian and then in Akielon, smiling nastily. “For the drool that keeps flowing onto your lap.”
“Very funny,” Laurent replied sweetly and squinted his eyes. “If you keep trying, perhaps you’ll manage to actually make me laugh one day.”
“I’m afraid nothing will ever be funnier than the sight of you drooling over Damen taking a breath in the training yard.”
“I think he did a little more than taking a breath, Nikandros,” Laurent said conversationally and took a sip of his water. His eyes immediately returned to Damen. “What am I guilty of? Looking at my own husband?”
Nikandros didn’t reply. Laurent always said that whenever he was being teased about his preference for tall, rugged, sword-wielding men who happened to be Damen. Sometimes Nikadros was still bewildered that he was allowed to tease him about this and many other things. Pallas fell to the ground again and Damen smiled down at him before helping him up. Nikandros took a sip of his too sweet wine and thought that he should have been the one to fall on his ass. Perhaps that would knock some sense into him and make him stop think about-
“You’re frustrated because of Vannes, aren’t you?”
“No,” Nikandros denied a little too forcefully. “I don’t even know why you would say that.”
“You’ve been even grumpier than usual since her little performance on the terrace. I thought you were just being difficult, especially when I saw you ask her to dance with you. I thought you’d be all right by now, but here you are pouting and frowning.”
Nikandros felt his neck prickle with heat. He didn’t want to remember the fateful evening when Lady Vannes came up to him and asked him to dance with her, all vibrant and loud like a bird. Her dress was as blue as the Veretian banners and it kept twirling as she moved across the floor. Don’t worry, Nikandros. I don’t bite, she said when he gingerly put his hand on her slim waist. Nikandros didn’t reply at first, a memory of his first wrestling lesson with Laurent hitting him. Laurent said back then, Oh, you should worry, Nikandros. I do bite. How strange were those Veretians. In fact, Nikandros didn’t remember what he said to her at all. He barely remembered the entire dance or all the things Lady Vannes had said to him because he was too busy panicking and not knowing why he was panicking. She wasn’t the first highborn lady waltzing in his arms. This wasn’t anything new and yet Nikandros didn’t understand anything.
“First of all,” Nikandros began when he regained his composure, “she asked me to dance and I couldn’t say no. Second of all, in Akielos it’s men who ask women to dance and she knew that and decided to corner me because I couldn’t refuse her in front of the entire court!”
“Or perhaps she just wanted to dance with you. I can’t believe Damen calls me paranoid when you’re right here. Besides, dance etiquette is almost the same in Vere and Vannes just doesn’t care,” Laurent said. “You saw me dance with her once. Did you really think I was the one to ask her to do such a thing?”
Laurent looked at him like he grew a second hand. “His Highness is too shy to dance?” Nikandros teased, his voice dripping with venom.
“No, he isn’t,” Laurent replied coolly, his eyes shining with mock threat. “His Highness simply doesn’t dance.”
“We’re both victims of the same woman, then. I also thought I didn’t dance,” Nikandros grumbled after a moment and then his voice grew serious when Laurent smiled. “And there’s nothing to talk about.”
Laurent turned his undivided attention to Nikandros, looking like a very sceptical viper. He swirled his cup and then put it on the round table between them with a loud clink.
“All right,” Laurent said and raised his eyebrow. “I wanted to help you, you know.”
Nikandros couldn’t help but scoff. “As I said, there’s nothing you could help me with and, more importantly, you don’t even like women, so I don’t think your advice would be any useful.”
“Oh, I didn’t even say what I wanted to help you with but your mind immediately jumped to romance. Besides, why would you ask me how to woo a woman? Interesting.” Laurent’s mouth curved up for a moment before he grew serious again. Nikandros briefly considered strangling him. “I don’t like women like that, but I know Vannes.”
That was true. Even if Laurent reserved his love for men, it didn’t change the fact that he knew Lady Vannes rather well. And, most importantly, they were both Veretian. Perhaps Laurent truly knew something he didn’t know about highborn Veretian ladies, perhaps he could tell Nikandros that Lady Vannes was simply playing or teasing him or maybe it was just some kind of Veretian custom to flirt while drunk and then wink at the council meetings. Nikandros sighed, knowing exactly that Laurent guessed all of it even before he opened his mouth.
“All right, share that wisdom with me. At least I’ll have something to laugh about.”
“But Nikandros,” Laurent said sweetly and shook his head, “everything comes with a price, doesn’t it?”
Nikandros squinted his eyes. “What could you possibly want in return?”
Laurent glanced at Damen and Pallas and then shifted in his seat, leaning closer to Nikandros. “Tell me about Jokaste.”
“About–” Nikandros blurted out and then shook his head. Perhaps he spent too much time in the sun? “Why would you want to speak about her?”
“Damen never wants to tell me anything about her,” Laurent replied and brushed the non-existing dust off his knee. He shrugged and, to Nikandros’ delight, pouted a little. “About their relationship.”
“Then perhaps it should stay like that.”
“I’m not asking you to spill Damen’s secrets. I just want to know what they were like together. Just tell me what you’ve seen as his closest friend.”
“Do you truly think about her even now?”
Laurent hesitated. “Sometimes.”
“Why?”
“No one’s seen her in two years. She disappeared like some lady from a poem and no one knows what happened to her.”
“Why does it bother you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is Damen aware that he makes you paranoid when he refuses to tell you anything about her? Are you aware that no one has seen her in two years and that Damen is on the verge of tears whenever he has to leave you for more than two days?”
“Not paranoid,” Laurent huffed and shifted in his chair. He ignored the rest of Nikandros’ words because of course he’d do that but he couldn’t hide the rosy flush that bloomed on his cheeks. “Curious would be a good word. I’m a curious man.”
“Why would you be curious about Jokaste?” Nikandros asked dryly and gave the viper a long, pointed look.
Laurent shrugged and took a sip of water before answering, his voice calm and almost cheerful. “She’s a curious woman.”
Jokaste looked like Laurent’s long-lost sister and the exact type Damen liked. Nikandros couldn’t say much about Jokaste’s behaviour in private because she knew exactly that he never liked her and always suspected her, but he wondered if he knew the reason Damen’s love for Jokaste was like a bonfire against the wildfire he felt for Laurent. He didn’t know whether Jokaste was cold in public and sweet in private, but he was aware that Laurent was exactly like that. This theory was plausible because, when Nikandros thought about Damen’s past free lovers, they were all full of life and a little wild just like Laurent. The village girls were playful, the warriors from the arena were teasing after a fight, bold when they spoke to Damen.
“Yes,” Nikandros said quietly, still a little lost in his thoughts. “I see why you’d say that.”
“Pardon me?” Laurent’s eyes turned sharp and Nikandros bit back a smile.
“All right, Laurent,” Nikandros said and then leaned back in his chair. “In the eyes of the King and the court, Damen and Jokaste were perfect for each other. A bright heir who was born with a sword in his hand and the most beautiful woman in Akielos. They feasted and danced together at the court and everybody loved them. Well, everybody loved the idea of them.”
“You didn’t.”
“I didn’t,” Nikandros said quietly. “I used to tell him that she wasn’t the right woman for him, that her intentions weren’t pure, that she surely conspired against him with Kastor. He never listened to me. I… Don’t tell him this, Laurent, but their relationship always seemed shallow to me. Shallow and physical. I don’t know what they talked about in private but in public… They didn’t look half as enamoured with each other as you and Damen look.”
The swords were clinking but Laurent had his undivided attention only for Nikandros’ voice. His big eyes were focused as if he was listening to a story or something serious like a speech and that unnerved Nikandros. The cold blue of Laurent’s eyes was almost piercing him through. Nikandros glanced at Damen and Pallas, making sure that they were unaware of their conversation.
“He also took slaves while they were together and I told him a thousand times that he should’ve stayed faithful to her. I don’t know if she took slaves as well. Perhaps she did but she was at least discreet about it. I’m aware that slaves didn’t really count as real… lovers,” Nikandros said quietly and felt the heat of shame on the back of his neck as he looked Laurent in the eye. “Jokaste is proud and she was supposed to be his queen. I don’t imagine any woman would be happy, knowing that her lover still takes others to his bed.”
“Damen’s father was faithful to Hypermenestra, wasn’t he?” Laurent asked gently. “He wasn't faithful to his wife, but he only had eyes for Kastor’s mother. That’s what I heard from my spies years ago.”
“Yes, he truly loved her. He started taking slaves only after her death. I think he loved her more than he ever loved Damen’s mother,” Nikandros admitted. “That’s also why I think that what Damen felt for Jokaste wasn’t real love. It’s true, he was fond of her, he liked her cleverness and sharp tongue, but… It was shallow. It was lust. I can’t imagine him even considering taking another lover when he has you.”
“So great Theomedes could keep his cock in one woman when he liked her enough, but couldn’t keep his army in one kingdom?”
Nikandros didn’t reply. He knew better than to begin this subject. While something inside him wanted to instinctively defend his late King, he was aware that this particular kind of wound never healed. If it eased any of Laurent’s pain to speak like this, so be it. After all, Nikandros still remembered how it felt to clutch Damen’s lion pin in his hand until it bled, how it felt to think that he was lost forever, how he hated Kastor and would continue to do so for the rest of his life, even with him cold and long gone in the royal crypt in Ios. Nikandros knew how it felt to lose a brother even if he didn’t share blood with Damen.
“I’d castrate Damen with a blunt knife if he took a lover,” Laurent said coolly and crossed his legs. He grasped the arms of his chair and smiled. “I told him so.”
“Come on, Laurent,” Nikandros laughed, seeing the barely visible pout on his face. “You didn’t need to tell him this. He’d never do it to you.”
“I know it but an occasional threat doesn’t hurt, does it?”
“Technically, the definition of a threat implies that–”
“Tell me more.”
Nikandros rubbed his chin. “Is there more to tell? She broke his heart and she humiliated him, but she also saved his life. Do you think she’s your competition? She never was and you know it.”
“No,” Laurent said calmly. “I told you I was just curious. He never wants to say anything about her. Is it so strange to be curious about a woman who was supposed to be his queen? If it hadn’t been for Kastor, she’d be in my place now.”
“Does it surprise you that he doesn’t want to talk about her?” Nikandros asked. “I think it’s not only about his broken heart but also about his pride. You know he’s a proud man.”
Laurent nodded and turned his gaze to Damen again. A comfortable kind of silence fell between them, the one Nikandros associated with Laurent, and he was almost certain that it was the end of their conversation. He looked at Pallas and Damen, too, and saw that the poor boy was close to collapsing. Damen was smiling and breathing heavily and Nikandros smiled fondly. He’s seen this a thousand times, Damen smiling in that warm way, the way he was one with his sword.
“Do you dislike each of Damen’s lovers on principle?”
“No,” Nikandros huffed and looked at Laurent. The viper was already smiling. “Only those with golden hair, pretty face, and a dangerous mind.”
“So all?”
“Not all of them were–”
“Oh?”
Nikandros almost groaned because Laurent could go on like this for hours and Nikandros wasn’t in a mood to talk about any of Damen’s lovers or love at all. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, silently begging Laurent for mercy.
“I was joking, Nikandros,” Laurent laughed. “I only want to know about her.”
“Thank the gods,” he murmured under his breath and took a sip of his wine. The sweetness almost made his tongue twist into a cork. “I don’t think I can take another round of questions about Damen’s love affairs today.”
“You were very brave,” Laurent said and then the corner of his mouth twitched. “Do you like her?”
“Who?” Nikandros asked innocently. “Jokaste? Not particularly.”
“A comedian, aren’t you?” Laurent asked and rolled his eyes half-heartedly. “I’m talking about Vannes.”
“No.”
“You keep looking at her at the council meetings.”
“I’m merely making sure that she doesn’t spread any gossip about the possibility of me courting her.”
“During council meetings?” Laurent asked and furrowed his golden eyebrows. “Do you think she’ll raise the subject during a council meeting?”
“Yes.”
“Come on, Nikandros, everyone knows she’d be the one to do all the courting.”
“What is that supposed to mean, Laurent?” Nikandros scoffed and leaned in, feeling the waves of annoyance wash over him.
They didn’t even notice that Damen dismissed Pallas and walked up towards them until his voice almost made both of them jump. He had a white towel draped around his shoulders and the hems of his white chiton were damp.
“What are you two talking about?”
“Jokaste,” Nikandros said loudly before Laurent could–
“The one and only Lady Vannes,” Laurent said sweetly.
Damen blinked and then looked from Nikandros to Laurent, from Laurent to Nikandros. He frowned and the struggle in his mind was almost palpable. Laurent stood up and pushed a cup of water into Damen’s broad hand. He smiled at him and watched as he took three huge sips before putting the cup down.
“Good fight, husband.”
“You think so?” Damen asked and a broad grin took over his entire face. Laurent’s eyes fell to the dimple in his cheek. “Husband.”
Nikandros rolled his eyes. Damen was the most pompous man who simply loved to boast about his combat skills but one compliment from his dearest viper was enough to turn him into a lovesick, over-eager puppy who’d roll onto his belly just to receive more praise. He took Laurent’s hand in his and pressed a chaste kiss to the back of it. Nikandros rolled his eyes again.
“I should bathe,” he said apologetically and then pressed another kiss to the viper’s hand as if he couldn’t stop himself.
“I don’t mind.”
Nikandros rolled his eyes for the third time, this time mildly disgusted.
“We were both telling the truth. We struck a bargain, you see. Nikandros wanted my advice on Vannes and I asked for some stories about Jokaste in return. Well, I haven’t given him any advice yet, because you came, but we can help him together, can’t we? Poor Nikandros is wilting away.”
“I am not wilting away,” Nikandros protested when Damen sat between them. “And I wasn’t asking for any advice.”
Damen wiped the sweat off his forehead and leaned back in his chair. He was frowning again, giving sideways glances at Nikandros from time to time. Laurent sat down, looking like a cat that got the cream and was on its way to get more.
“I don’t understand it, Nikandros,” Damen finally said. “Why is it such a problem for you to approach Lady Vannes? She isn’t the first highborn lady you like.”
“But I don’t like her. I don’t even understand why we’re here.”
“All right,” Damen said with the confidence of a man who knew that his interlocutor was lying. Nikandros briefly considered punching his King in the face. “But if you do like her, I hope you aren’t so stubborn about it just because she’s Veretian.”
“Of course not!” Nikandros shouted and silently thanked the gods for making his skin dark enough to hide the flush on the back of his neck. “I’m simply tired of this subject because there’s nothing to discuss. I was merely worried that someone would spread gossip about me and her. I don’t want to ruin her reputation.”
“Her reputation,” Laurent repeated flatly. “You should stop lying for your own good.”
“Laurent, do you honestly think that I’d insult you and your countrywoman in front of you and Damen?”
“No, but–” Laurent cut himself off and frowned. “Do you really think she cares about reputation?”
“Yes.”
Laurent and Damen looked at each other in silence. This frustrated him even more than everything else he had witnessed minutes ago and it was only noon.
“Nikandros, I think that Lady Vannes cares about many things but reputation isn’t one of them,” Damen said gently.
How bad was it when Damen sensed his lie?
“All right, Damen, you can see that he’s a hopeless case,” Laurent said and then looked Nikandros in the eye. “If, for some unknown reason, something changed, I just wanted you to know that you were doing well.”
“I wasn’t doing anything!”
“Exactly!” Laurent exclaimed as if their conversation and, more importantly, his over-enthusiastic response made perfect sense.
“What does that even mean?” Nikandros could feel the vein in his temple protrude and pulse. “I don’t understand anything.”
“Have you ever been courted?”
“No,” Nikandros huffed and shifted in his chair. “But I’m not courting her! What kind of question is that?”
Laurent’s face twisted in something that felt close to patronising and he glanced at Damen before shaking his head, suddenly tired and resigned. He leaned against the back of his chair and took a sip of water, staring at something in front of him and completely ignoring the internal battle that was raging inside Nikandros’ head. Damen, on the other hand, slapped Nikandros on the shoulder and then squeezed it.
“To my dismay,” Damen began, “some men still try to court Laurent right in front of me and believe me, my friend, most of them are more pompous and self-satisfied than the most pathetic of kyroi in my father’s court were. Don’t you remember how we used to laugh at them? What we used to call them? Do you remember Alekos the Halfwit or Hesper the Jester whose jokes amused absolutely no one?”
“I do,” Nikandros grumbled. “But I don’t know what they have to do with me.”
“I was being genuinely nice to you, Nikandros,” Laurent said. “And I think that confused you. I was appreciative of your manners towards her because you don’t treat her like an idiot or a piece of meat you want to fuck senseless.”
Nikandros blushed and thanked all the gods for making his skin dark enough to hide it. To him, it wasn’t necessary to use those words to describe such matters, but Laurent was always like that – sharp and vulgar, almost delighting in the way lewd words rolled off his tongue to shock anyone that was close enough to hear them. He could admit that it was funny most of the time but not now, not when Nikandros’ reputation was at stake.
“All right,” Nikandros said after a long stretch of silence. “I… thank you.” It sounded a little like a question in his mouth but Laurent merely nodded and, if Nikandros was right, barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
Damen glanced at both of them, a shadow of a warm smile dancing around his lips. It was like a habit now, this ritual of sitting somewhere together, Damen between him and Laurent, enjoying summer nights or mornings before council meetings.
“You know, Nikandros, I think you’re in disbelief because a Veretian lady caught your eye and you can’t make peace with this fact which is outright absurd. My Veretian makes me very happy.”
“Does he?” Laurent asked, his eyes filling with something soft and private.
Rather than listen to this, Nikandros lifted both of his hands. “I do not like Lady Vannes!”
Laurent and Damen gave each other a sideways glance and that briefly reminded Nikandros of every instance when his childhood tutor was very dissatisfied with his knowledge on the great houses of Akielos. Sometimes they gave each other this stare at the council meetings and that also infuriated Nikandros. Couldn’t they just behave for once? Could they leave Nikandros in peace for once?
“Then why have you been so frustrated since her little performance on the terrace?” Damen asked and threw his hands up.
“I’ve already told you!”
Laurent looked at him like a very disappointed teacher and then reached for Damen’s hand. “Come, Damen,” he said as he rose and tugged Damen with him. “This is a hopeless case.”
Damen stood up and then hesitated, a deep frown taking over his face. He even opened his mouth to say something but then closed it, frowning even deeper.
Tangling his fingers with Laurent’s, Damen took a deep breath and turned his eyes to Nikandros. “I don’t believe a word you said today, but if you must be so stubborn, then so be it.”
“Thank you!” Nikandros cried out and threw his hands up. “Finally! Thank you!”
They gave each other the glance again. Nikandros tried not to explode. Laurent and Damen said their goodbyes and turned to the palace, walking hand in hand like the two lovebirds they were. Nikandros wasn’t sure whether it was his imagination but he could have sworn that Damen said under his breath, Laurent, I worry for him. And then Laurent replied, I do as well, but only a little.
Rather than think about it, Nikandros watched as their silhouettes disappeared and then stood up to take his sword again. He glared at the training dummy and struck. Damen liked to train when he was upset but it never had the same effect on Nikandros. In fact, endlessly smashing the training dummy angered him even more. Sweat was rolling down his temple and back but the strain felt good; it made him feel strong and alive. He couldn’t stop thinking about his hand on Lady Vannes’ waist, how similar the sensation of her warm body under his palm was to the feeling of strain in his hand now. An image of her long, dark braid pierced Nikandros’ mind and he felt the same desire as he did as he held her during their dance, the same want to touch the end of it, to feel the softness of it against the tips of his fingers. He wondered if would be as soft as he imagined or if it would perhaps be a little coarser like his own hair.
The sound of sand moving under a foot almost startled him. He turned and then, trying not to look surprised, he lowered his sword.
“My lady,” Nikandros said, his voice rough. He cleared his throat, only now realising how dry it was. He bowed a little and Lady Vannes returned the gesture, the ever-present, self-satisfied smirk tugging at her lips. “It’s not exactly wise to sneak up on someone wielding a sword.”
Lady Vannes raised her dark eyebrow and clasped her hands behind her back. Her dress was dark purple today and it had flowery ornaments all over the fabric, the sleeves were almost long enough to touch the ground and she simply looked lovely.
“Perhaps I’m not wise,” she replied lightly and then came a little closer. “Would you train me?”
Nikandros blinked and then felt his mouth fall open. “Pardon me?”
“Would you train me?” she asked more slowly and in Akielon because she just had to be annoying. She had a noticeable Veretian accent that she didn’t even try to hide. Nikandros found it strangely fascinating and enjoyed listening to it, never knowing how a certain word would sound in her mouth. “You have a big sword in your hand.”
Nikandros looked at the said sword and then shrugged. “If you have a pair of trousers, then yes, but I’ll have to find one for your hand, my lady,” he pointed at his sword with his chin and sheathed it. “This one’s too big and too broad. Have you ever held a sword?”
The self-satisfied smirk left Lady Vannes’ face and the change was so abrupt and unexpected that Nikandros wondered if he did something wrong. He had never seen such an expression on her face. He suddenly felt out of place, as if he did or said something wrong.
“You really would train me.” Nikandros couldn’t decide whether it was a question or a statement. Vannes’ eyes suddenly looked bigger now, some kind of ill-concealed vulnerability fighting to stay behind a bold stare.
“I… thought you were being serious,” Nikandros replied after a long stretch of silence and it also sounded a little like a question. He frowned and resisted the urge to brush his hair with his fingers.
“I was joking.”
“I see.”
The silence between them was almost deafening. If Nikandros thought that dancing together was awkward, then he was a fool. This was far worse, this silence was more uncomfortable than the feeling of damp clothes on his skin or wearing sandals for the entire day without a break.
“I prefer being a spectator,” Lady Vannes said, her usual smile returning like the sun peeking from behind a grey cloud, “but thank you, kyros.”
Nikandros nodded and then realised how filthy he was, how damp his skin and chiton were. Lady Vannes didn’t seem to mind and he could have sworn that her eyes kept finding their way to his biceps and hands. That made two of them because he didn’t mind her silent appreciation – he even liked it and had to restrain himself from preening like Damen would surely do. Gods, he was getting ridiculous these days.
“A spectator,” Nikandros said slowly. “How long have you been watching me?”
“A while.”
“A while.”
Lady Vannes shrugged, the cat-like smile never leaving her lips. She pointed at the sword with her chin.
“Do Akielon women fight?”
“Some of them. Not often.”
“So why did you agree to train me?”
Nikandros frowned. Would she rather he said no? “Vaskian women are warriors. They raid Patran borders sometimes. Akielos also had a warrior queen. I don’t see why it would be an issue to–”
“Everything is simple to you, isn’t it?”
“I think you’re the first person in my life to say that, Lady Vannes,” Nikandros said dryly. “Would you rather I said no?”
“I’d rather you let me hold your sword.”
Wordlessly, Nikandros unsheathed it and placed it in her waiting hand. When their fingers touched, Nikandros used every bit of his self-control not to jerk away. Her grip was sure and strong, her long fingers curling around the hilt. It was clearly too big and it was top-heavy, but she managed to hold it. If she truly wanted to train, Nikandros would have to find a more slender and thinner blade. For a moment, he wondered if she ever asked Laurent to let her hold his sword. His blade would also be too big and too long for her but he imagined that it was closer to what a smith would forge for her. Lady Vannes moved her hand and the sword flashed in the sunlight. Her skin was pale and smooth and Nikandros couldn’t help but imagine those hands holding a kithara or a cup of wine. He could see those fingers braiding her hair, the contrast of her pale skin stark against the darkness of her hair. Nikandros let the vision bloom in his head even though she probably had a maid to do it for her. The deep purple of the dress, the flowery ornaments, and the sight of a heavy sword in Vannes’ pale hand was like an image of contradictions, the lady escaping from the palace to sneak into the training yard just to swing a sword and then return to court intrigues.
“Interesting.” Her voice was a little more than a murmur but it startled Nikandros all the same.
“Do Veretian women fight?”
“Some of them,” she replied with her eyes still on the sword. “Not often. Certainly not as often as Akielon women, which means that there’s at least one admirable thing about your country, kyros.”
She gave the sword back and Nikandros sheathed it, his eyes still on Lady Vannes’ face. He couldn’t help but chuckle at her words, at the way her voice was teasing and melodious, not sharp as it was when she tore an imbecile to shreds. Nikandros tilted his head, a ghost of a smile still present around his mouth.
“At least one? How generous.”
Lady Vannes shrugged and clasped her hands behind her back again. He noticed it only now, the way her eyes were almost black, but shone like stars when she laughed. Again, Nikandros felt how damp his chiton was, how flattened his curls were. He felt like a waterfall of sweat while the loveliest violet was blooming in front of him.
“At least one,” Lady Vannes repeated. “What about a fair exchange, kyros? Is there something nice you could say about my homeland or is the task too strenuous?”
Nikandros frowned. Was it another Veretian trap? Lady Vannes was still smirking, her gaze expectant and teasing. He opened his mouth and then closed it, a sudden memory of Laurent’s face appearing in his head. Come on, Nikandros, everyone knows she’d be the one to do all the courting. Nikandros felt his heart skip a beat. Was it courting? Or perhaps she was just being playful and difficult like a cat that sat on the edge of the table with its paw reaching for a cup or a vase? He didn’t pay much attention to her earlier, he was too busy trying to save the kingdom from falling, but he knew that her pets were always imposing and strong. Of course, she only had female pets, but some of them could be almost as big as him. Laurent never once said that she reserved her love for women, not even today, and that made Nikandros frown even harder. It was true that he caught her gazing at him more often than not at the council meetings and sometimes at the banquets, but that surely was just a Veretian thing to stare at people, wasn’t it? Nikandros thought about every Veretian he knew who kept staring at him a lot and it was – it was – oh.
Finally, feeling his belly turn upside down, he looked into her dark eyes and realised that he was being courted in the manner that highborn ladies courted. By staring a lot.
“I–” Nikandros rasped and then cleared his throat. “I suppose Veretians are quite brave.” He hated that his first thought was about Marlas, he hated it so badly that he clenched his teeth hard enough to make it hurt. “At least the ones I know.”
Lady Vannes rocked on her heels, her dress fluttering with her movement. “All right,” she said and smiled. This time, the smile was completely genuine. “I thought you’d say something mean, Nikandros.”
“My lady,” he began, “I’d never disrespect-”
“Oh, stop with this lady thing,” Vannes scoffed. “How old are you, Nikandros?”
“Twenty seven as my King, my lady.”
“I’m twenty eight, kyros. We’re almost the same age and I’d truly appreciate it if you stopped talking to me like I’m eighty.”
“All right,” Nikandros replied and then felt his mouth curve up. “My lady.”
The stare Vannes gave him was very similar to the serpent-like way Laurent looked at him sometimes. Nikandros wanted to add that her being one year older only gave a new reason to call her his lady, but he decided against it when he saw her expression. It was fun and it was a word and sensation quite rare in Nikandros’ life, not when he had the abolition of slavery, the unification of two kingdoms and, arguably the worst of it all, Laurent and Damen on his shoulders.
“You can joke, Nikandros,” she said after a while, her voice low. “I didn’t know you were able to do it.”
“I have many hidden talents.”
Thankfully, Vannes’ face didn’t twist into disbelief or discomfort, but Nikandros cringed at his own words, silently begging himself to stop talking nonsense. He gazed at her and felt the same old urge to touch her braid or at least the end of it, to let it slip between his fingers. He’d be so careful, so careful that she’d barely notice it and then she’d laugh and tease him for it, maybe allow him to unbraid her hair and let it fall in waves on her back. He wondered how long it really was, how long did it take to–
“I think I’ve overstayed my visit,” Vannes said and then made a mock curtsy. “You’re in need of a bath.”
Nikandros bowed deeply to her and watched as she disappeared into the palace, her hands still clasped behind her back. He couldn’t help but smile as he turned to the baths. The trap was clearly set for him, but it appeared that Nikandros would willingly fall into it or at least come a little closer to it, silently cursing those Veretians and their wicked minds. He tried to ignore the visions of Laurent’s smug face in his mind and Damen’s familiar little grin that bloomed on his face whenever Nikandros took a liking to a lady.