The Empty Ones (Fantasy Romance)

66. Royalty

"Lysander Harmonth Darcleé, you must be fucking kidding me!!" says Theon, very obviously angry.

And I... I just couldn't take my eyes off the image unfolding before me. It was like carnage, and I just couldn't look away.

For one, I haven't seen many naked men in my life. There is my husband but with him it was always dark, there were only glimpses and my head was usually pressed painfully against something besides me always trying to look away.

But right now there were two very much naked and rather familiar men in front of me.

Prince Dair was the embodiment of a deer in the torch light, his big brown eyes wide open, his plump lips slightly ajar, dark curls disheveled and his slim, gracious body pressed under Lysander.

I mean, even for me it's rather obvious what they were doing even if the details are are a bit fuzzy. How do two men...? Can then two women also? Does it hurt?

Theon grabs an abandoned sheet from the floor and tosses it at Lysander.

"Cover yourself! We need to talk," he hisses.

Lysander wraps nonchalant the sheet around his lower body and grabs one to hand it to Prince Dair, who seems... frozen.

"Your Highness, needles to tell that you shouldn't uter one word about what you are seeing unless you want the court and your father to know about this affair," says Theon, looking at him. "You know he will mind, as you knew you were doing something you shouldn't. Now I suggest you take leave." Theon's voice is glacial. Though Prince Dair looks like a frightened little boy, he doesn't seem to care one bit as he is sending away the crown Prince of the Empire that is hosting him like he would a servant.

But the prince doesn't object, and almost runs out of the room.

"Your Highness, should dress before heading out," he says, trying to keep his tone neutral.

Prince Dair gathers his clothes from the floor and starts dressing hastily, as if he doesn't want to stay an instant longer in this place, because he likely doesn't.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" says Theon again in an angry whispers after the prince is out the door.

"Well, he was there, begging me to love him and tell him what a good obedient boy he is. And I was a bit pissed, as you know and said, I might as well..." answers Lysander, with an almost rude smile on his lips, rolling on his back.

"Out of all people in this damn palace?!"

"Might not have been the best idea but he was so sad and begged so, might I say, a bit pathetic."

"Not the best idea?! Gravely understated."

"Well yeah, but now that's settled, tell me, what exactly is all over the two of you? Shall I take a wild guess? Very strange places, I must add."

Theon rolls his eyes, but grabs my wrist and moves his finger over my forearm for Lysander to see.

"Oh..." he says, raising an eyebrow. "The pot calling the kettle... Red?" He smirks with a hint of animosity towards his brother.

"Lysander...! It's not fucking funny."

"It's precise that, not fucking but funny." Lysander is now actively supressing laughter. "See that's why he was so unconcerned letting his little wife tag along with you. Then again I am surprised it took you this long."

"Lys! Stop it or you will not walk for weeks!"

"All right, all right." Lysander rolls his eyes. "Give me your hand."