Captive Prince: Volume Two

‘I wasn’t sure you’d come back.’

‘I came back,’

Laurent was well made and capable, and Damen was a man, as other men. Half the soldiers in this camp wanted Laurent under them. The body’s reaction could be discounted, as it had been, determinedly, at the inn. Any man would have been roused by Laurent playing pet in his lap. Even knowing what was under the earring.

had no idea what they did when they gifted me with you.’

Laurent had mostly returned to himself, his posture more casual, his weight leaned back on his arms, watching Damen as he sometimes did. But he was a new version of himself, stripped back, youthful, a little quieter, and Damen realised he was seeing Laurent with his defences lowered—one or two of them, anyway. There was an untried, fragile feeling to the experience.

of his wrist. He thought it a gesture of comfort, a caress, and then he realised that Laurent was shifting the fabric of his sleeve, sliding it back slightly to reveal the gold underneath, until the wrist-cuff he had asked the blacksmith to leave on was exposed between them.
‘Sentiment?’ said Laurent.
‘Something like that.’
Their eyes met and he could feel each beat of his heart. A few seconds of silence, a space that lengthened, until Laurent spoke.
‘You should give me the other.’

It was with a shock that he felt the touch of Laurent’s fingers against the back

‘I can do this alone. I know I can. It’s only that right now I can’t seem to . . . think, and I can’t . . . trust anyone else to stand up to me when I’m . . . like this. If you could give me three days, I—’ He forcibly cut himself off.
‘I’ll stay,’ said Damen. ‘You know I’ll stay for as long as you—’
‘Don’t,’ said Laurent. ‘Don’t lie to me. Not you.’
‘I’ll stay,’ said Damen. ‘Three days. After that, I ride south.’

‘I can’t.’ It was a raw admission. ‘I can’t think.’ The words were torn out of him. Wide-eyed in the silence, Laurent said them again in a different voice, his blue eyes dark with the exposure of the truth. ‘I can’t think.’
‘I know,’ said Damen.
He said it softly. There was more than one admission in Laurent’s words. He knew that too.
He knelt, and scooped up the glimmer of Nicaise’s earring from the floor.
It had been a delicate thing, and well made, a handful of sapphires. Rising, he set it down on the table.
After a time, he moved back from the place where Laurent leant, fingers curled around the table edge. He drew a breath, made to take another step back.
‘Don’t go,’ said Laurent, quietly.
‘I’m just clearing my head. I already told my escort I wouldn’t need them until morning,’ said Damen.
And there was another awful silence, as Damen realised what Laurent was asking him.
‘No. I don’t mean—forever—just—’ Laurent broke off. ‘Three days.’ Laurent said

‘Yes,’ said Damen. ‘You tried to hurt me, and you have. I wish you would see that what you have just done to me is what your uncle is doing to you.’
He saw Laurent receive that like a man at the very ends of his endurance being given another hit. ‘Why,’ said Laurent, ‘do you—do you always—’ He stopped himself. The rise and fall of his chest was shallow.

‘I’m going to stop him,’ said Damen. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘It’s noon,’ said Jord. The words sounded harsh, like they hurt his throat.
‘He needs me,’ said Damen. ‘I don’t care if you tell the world.’