Chapter Four Commentary
NOTE: My comments in blue. I assume you've read the whole story, so some comments may not make sense if you haven't. I'd recommend reading the whole thing in any case, otherwise I'm going to spoil you for the later chapters.
Captive Prince - Chapter Four ;
"Ow," said Damen, through gritted teeth.
"Be still," said the physician.
"You are a clumsy, poking lout," said Damen, in his own language.
Damen speaking a language no one else can except for a few is a terrific way for him to blow off some steam.
"And be quiet. This is a medicinal salve," said the physician.
This little scene also provided a little humor to lighten up the story from the horrendous flogging in the previous chapter.
Damen disliked palace physicians. During last weeks of his father's illness, the sickroom had thronged with them. They had chanted, muttered pronouncements, thrown divining bones into the air, and administered various remedies, but his father had only grown sicker. He felt differently about the pragmatic field surgeons who had worked tirelessly alongside the army on campaign. The surgeon who had tended him at Marlas had sewn up his shoulder with a minimum of fuss, restraining his objection to a frown when Damen got on a horse five minutes later.
I love that Damen is so tough...
The Rabatian physicians were not of this ilk. It was admonitions not to move and endless instructions and dressings that were continually being changed. This physician wore a gown that reached to the floor, and a hat shaped like a loaf of bread. The salve was having absolutely no effect on his back that Damen could discern, though it smelled pleasantly of cinnamon.
This is actually a funny detail, and very like the rest of Rabat. There's a hint of sensuality in the scent of cinnamon, but not being particularly effective doesn't seem all that surprising. Everyone in Rabat seems to value beauty above all else, even in medicinal salves. So it's important for the salve to smell good, even if it also means that maybe it isn't entirely effective. (Which, according to Damen's version of events, it maybe isn't.)
It was three days since the lashing. Damen did not clearly remember being taken down off the flogging post and returned to his room. The blurry impressions that he had of the journey reassured him that he had made the trip upright. For the most part.
He did remember being supported by two of the guards, here, in this room, while Radel stared at his back in horror.
"The Prince really . . . did this."
"Who else?" Damen said.
Of course Radel would question Damen's view of things, but he's right: who else would have done it? It's really a silly question, but Radel is ever the loyalist and finds it hard to believe that Laurent could be as barbaric as his slave, or even more so.
Radel had stepped forward, and slapped Damen across the face; it was a hard slap, and the man wore three rings on each finger. "What did you do to him?" Radel demanded.
Radel lashing out at Damen is the perfect response. It fits his character perfectly since he adores Laurent and is fiercely loyal to him.
This question had struck Damen as funny. It must have shown on his face, because a second much harder slap followed the first.
Only Damen could find anything funny after his back is left in ribbons by a flogging and, again, Radel slapping Damen is fitting. He's probably frustrated with Damen's obstinate refusal to show loyalty to Laurent, when it's because of Laurent that Damen has risen to what he sees as a higher status than anything he could have had back in Akielos. Radel's constant harping on the fact is actually funny, considering we all know that Damen hadn't been raised in status at all...
The sting of it momentarily cleared the blackness that was pressing in on his vision; Damen had taken this further hold on consciousness and held to it. Passing out was not something he had ever done before, but it was a day of firsts, and he was taking no chances.
I love that Damen is being so tough, again. It would make sense that if anyone could pull himself into consciousness out of a sheer force of will, it'd be him.
"Don't let him die yet," was the last thing Laurent had said.
I'm curious why Laurent seems to hate Damen so much, and tried so hard to kill him, yet doesn't want him to die...
The Prince's word was law. And so, for the small price of the skin off his back, there were a number of compromises to Damen's imprisonment, including the dubious perquisite of regular pokes from the physician.
A bed replaced the floor cushions, so that he could lie comfortably on his stomach (to protect his back). He was also given blankets and various coloured silk wraps, though he must use them to cover the lower half of his body only (to protect his back). The chain remained, but instead of attaching to his collar it was locked to one golden wrist cuff (to protect his back). The concern for his back also struck him as funny.
It is funny, considering Laurent tried to kill him and now is trying to hard to protect his back.
He was bathed frequently, his skin softly sponged with water drawn from a tub. After, the servants disposed of the water, which, on the first two days, was red.
Remarkably, the biggest change was not in the furnishings and routines, it was in the attitude of the servants and the men guarding him. Damen might have expected them to react like Radel, with animosity and outrage. Instead, there was sympathy from the servants. From the guards there was, even more unexpectedly, camaraderie. Where the ring fight had positioned Damen as a fellow fighter, being pulverised under the Prince's lash had apparently made him one of the fraternity. Even the taller guard (Orlant) who had threatened Damen after the ring fight seemed to have somewhat warmed to him. Inspecting Damen's back, Orlant had--not without some pride--proclaimed the Prince a cast-iron bitch, and clapped Damen cheerfully on the shoulder, turning him momentarily ashen.
In turn, Damen was careful not to ask any questions that would earn him suspicion. Instead, he embarked on a determined cultural exchange.
I like that, even in the aftermath of the horrific flogging, that Damen is working on learning what he can, trying to learn some trust even, from his jailors. He doesn't see any short term way out, so he's trying to use what little he has to its best advantage.
Was it true that in Akielos they blinded those who looked on the King's harem? No, it wasn't. Was it true that Akielon women went bare-breasted in summer? Yes, it was. And the wrestling matches were fought naked? Yes. And the slaves also went naked? Yes. Akielos might have a bastard King and a whore Queen but it sounded like paradise to Orlant. Laughter.
A bastard King and a whore Queen; Laurent's crude apothegm had, Damen discovered, entered common usage.
Even given Kastor's and Margaret's betrayal of Damen, that must hurt.
Damen unlocked his jaw and let it pass. Security was relaxing in small increments, and he now knew a way out of the palace. He tried, impartially, to view this as a fair exchange for a lashing (two lashings, his back reminded him tenderly).
He ignored his back. He focused on anything and everything else.
I like his steely single-mindedness to ignore the pain.
The men guarding him were the Prince's Guard, and had no affiliation with the Regent whatsoever. It surprised Damen how loyal they were to their Prince, and how diligent in his service, airing none of the grudges and complaints that he might have expected, considering Laurent's noxious personality. Laurent's feud with his uncle they took up wholeheartedly; there were deep schisms and rivalries between the Prince's Guard and the King's Guard, apparently.
It had to be Laurent's looks that inspired the allegiance of his men, and not Laurent himself. The closest the men got to disrespect was a series of ribald comments regarding Laurent's appearance. Their loyalty apparently did not prohibit the fantasy of fucking the Prince taking on mythic proportions.
Was it true, asked Jord, that in Akielos the male nobility kept female slaves, and the ladies fucked men?
"They don't in Rabat?" Damen recalled that, inside the ring and out of it, he had seen only same-sex pairings. "Why not?"
"No one of high birth invites the abomination of bastardry," said Jord, matter-of-factly. Female pets were kept by ladies, male pets were kept by lords.
"You mean that men and women--never--"
Never. Not among the nobility. Well, sometimes, if they were perverse. It was taboo. Bastards were a blight, Jord said.
This is an interesting insight into the Rabatian psyche, and would probably mean that while Kastor is on the Akielon throne that country will never really have Rabat as a true ally. I'm curious what that would mean for Damen, once Laurent discovers that Damen is the rightful king (if he doesn't now already). Do they hate bastards so much they might help him, when a bastard brother supplanted a rightful and legitimate king in such a shocking way?
Even among the guard, if you screwed women, you kept quiet about it. If you got a woman pregnant and didn't marry her your career was over. Better to avoid the problem, follow the example of the nobility, and screw men. Jord preferred men. Didn't Damen? You knew what was what, with men. And you could spurt without fear.
Damen was wisely silent. His own preference was for women; it seemed ill-advised to admit this. On the rare occasions when Damen pleased himself with men, he did so because he was attracted to them as men, not because he had any reason to avoid women, or substitute for them. Rabatians, thought Damen, made things needlessly complicated for themselves.
Here and there, useful information emerged. Pets weren't guarded (with Damen as the notable exception), which explained the lack of men at the perimeter of the harem. Pets came and went as they pleased. It meant that once past these guards, it was unlikely that he would encounter others.
Here and there, the subject of Laurent was raised.
"Have you . . . ?" said Jord to Damen, with a slowly spreading smile.
"Between the ring fight and the lashing?" said Damen, sourly. "No."
"They say he's frigid."
Damen stared at him. "What? Why?"
"Well," said Jord, "because he doesn't--"
"I meant why is he so," said Damen, cutting off Jord's prosaic explanation firmly.
"Why is snow cold?" said Jord with a shrug.
Damen frowned and changed the subject. Damen was not interested in Laurent's proclivities. Since the cross, his feelings towards Laurent had solidified from prickling dislike into something hard and implacable.
It was Orlant, finally, who asked the obvious question.
"How'd you end up here, anyway?"
"I wasn't careful," said Damen, "and I made an enemy of the King."
"Kastor? Someone should stick it to that whoreson. Only a country of barbarian scum would put a bastard on the throne," said Orlant. "No offense."
"None taken," said Damen.
*
On the seventh day, the Regent returned from Chastillon.
The first Damen knew of it was the entrance of guards into his room that he didn't recognise. They were not wearing the Prince's livery. This was followed by a heated argument between the Prince's physician and a new man, one Damen had never seen before.
"I don't think he should move," said the Prince's physician. Under the loaf of bread he was frowning. "The wounds might open."
"They look closed to me," said the other. "He can stand."
"I can stand," Damen agreed. He demonstrated this remarkable ability. He thought he knew what was happening. Only one man other than Laurent had the authority to dismiss the Prince's Guard.
The Regent came into the room in full state, accompanied by liveried servants and two men of high rank. He dismissed both physicians, who made obeisances and vanished. Then he dismissed the servants. Though technically he only held the throne in stewardship, and was addressed with the same honorific of 'Royal Highness' as Laurent, this was a man with the stature and presence of a King.
I like this bit of foreshadowing here, not only is the Regent like a King, but it looks (from Laurent's revelation in later chapters) like he wants to become one in his own right.
Damen knelt. He would not make the same mistake with the Regent that he had made with Laurent. He remembered that he had recently slighted the Regent by beating Govart in the ring, which Laurent had arranged. The emotion he felt towards Laurent surfaced briefly; on the ground beside him, the chain from his wrist pooled. If someone had told him, six months ago, that he'd kneel, willingly, for Rabatian nobility, he would have laughed in their face.
Damen recognised the two men accompanying the Regent as the Ambassador and Councillor Audin. Both wore the same heavy medallion on a thick linked chain. It was perhaps a councillor's chain of office.
"This is Kastor's gift to the Prince. The Akielon slave," said Councillor Audin, in surprise. A moment later he fished out a square of silk and lifted it to his nose, as if to screen his sensibilities from affront. "What happened to his back? That's barbaric."
It was, thought Damen, the first time he had heard the word 'barbaric' used to describe anything other than himself or his country.
Good point and it proves that it's not only barbarians can be barbaric.
"This is what Laurent thinks of our careful negotiations with Akielos," said the Regent. "I ordered him to treat Kastor's gift respectfully. Instead, he had the slave flogged almost to death."
"I knew the Prince was willful. I never thought him this destructive, this wild," said Councillor Audin, in a shocked, silk-muffled voice.
"There's nothing wild about it. This is a piece of intentional provocation, aimed at myself, and at Akielos. Laurent would like nothing better than for our treaty with Kastor to founder. He mouths platitudes in public, and in private--this."
"He insulted me, recently, at the ring," said Councillor Audin. "I thought at the time it was a sign of some deeper unrest."
"The flaw is deep in his nature. I thought he'd outgrow it. Instead, he grows steadily worse. Something must be done to discipline him."
"Having seen this, I concur," said the Ambassador. "But what can be done? You cannot rewrite a man's nature in ten months."
"Laurent disobeyed my order. No one knows that better than the slave. Perhaps we should ask him what should be done with my nephew."
Damen did not imagine he was serious, but the Regent came forward, and stood directly in front of him.
"Look up, slave," the Regent said.
Damen looked up. He saw again the dark hair and the commanding aspect, as well as the slight frown of displeasure that it seemed Laurent habitually elicited from his uncle. Damen remembered thinking that there was no familial resemblance between the Regent and Laurent, but now he saw that this was not quite true. Though his hair was dark, and silvered at the temples, the Regent had blue eyes.
"I hear that you were once a soldier," said the Regent. "If a man disobeyed an order in the Akielon army, how would he punished?"
Interesting that the Regent doesn't seem to know anything at all about Damen, yet he seems to trust him later...
"He would be publicly flogged and turned off," Damen said.
"You would of course first ask if he had good reason?" said the Regent.
"If my back were not the one in ribbons, I might," said Damen.
"A public flogging," said the Regent, turning back to the two men who accompanied him. "That is not possible. But Laurent has grown so unmanageable in recent years, I wonder what would help him. What a shame that soldiers and princes are held to a different accounting."
"Ten months before his ascension . . . is it really a wise time to chastise your nephew?" Councillor Audin spoke from behind the silk.
"Shall I let him run wild, wrecking treaties, destroying lives? Warmongering? This is my fault. I have been too lenient."
"I hardly need tell you that whatever measures you choose will have my support, of course," said the Ambassador.
"And mine," said Councillor Audin. "But perhaps we should discuss this elsewhere?"
I wonder why it was the Councilor (American English spelling with a single 'l', if you hadn't noticed) who brought up the fact that they shouldn't be speaking of this subject in front of the slave. If the Regent is much like his nephew, I would think that having part of the exchange between the Councilor and himself was for Damen's benefit. Why, I don't know.
Damen watched the men depart. Long term peace with Akielos was obviously something that the Regent was working hard to bring about. The part of Damen that did not wish to raze to the ground the cross, the ring, and the palace containing them, reluctantly acknowledged that goal as admirable.
The physician returned, and fussed, and servants came to make him comfortable, and then departed. And Damen was left alone in his rooms to think about the past.
The battle of Marlas six years ago had ended with twinned, bloody successes for Akielos. An Akielon arrow, a stray lucky arrow on the wind, had taken the Rabatian King in the throat.
A lucky arrow? Someone else had mentioned doubts about this in a comment before, but just how 'lucky' was that arrow? Or had the now Regent (I don't think freece has ever mentioned his name) been laying plans even back then? Was that why there were lies told on both sides? Had the Rabatian king's younger brother been playing them against each other in some way?
I can't wait to learn more about what had really happened in Marlas.
And Damen had killed the Crown Prince, Auguste, in single combat on the western front.
The battle had turned on Auguste's death. The Rabatian forces had quickly fallen into disarray, the death of the prince a staggering, dispiriting blow. Auguste had been a beloved leader, a figurehead, and an indomitable fighter: he had rallied his men after the death of the King; he had lead the charge that decimated the Akielon western flank; he had been the point on which wave after wave of Akielon fighters had broken.
"Father, I can beat him," Damen had said, and receiving his father's blessing he had ridden out from behind the lines and into the fight of his life.
What a ballsy move on Damen's part. At 19, he was little better than a kid himself, so to challenge someone else, who was maybe older, to single combat to the death was either very brave, or outrageously foolish. It turned out okay for him, of course, since he won, but it was a huge risk.
Damen hadn't known that the younger brother had been on the field. Six years ago Damen had been nineteen. Laurent would have been--fourteen, thirteen? It was young to fight in a battle like Marlas.
It was too young to inherit. And with the Rabatian King dead, and the Crown Prince dead, the King's brother had stepped in as Regent, and his first act had been to call parley, accepting the terms of surrender, and ceding to Akielos the disputed lands of Delpha, which the Rabatians called Delfeur.
It was the reasonable act of a reasonable man; in person, the Regent seemed similarly levelheaded and sensible, though afflicted with an intolerable nephew.
Damen did not know why his mind was returning to the fact of Laurent's presence on the field that day. There was no fear of discovery. It was six years ago, and Laurent had been a boy, who by his own admission had been nowhere near the front. Even if that were not the case, Marlas had been chaos. Any glimpse of Damen would have been early in the battle, with Damen in full armour, including helm--or if by some miracle he had been seen later, shield and helm lost, by that time Damen had been covered in mud and blood and fighting for his life as they all had been.
But if he were recognised: every man and woman in Rabat knew the name of Damianos, prince-killer. Damen had known how dangerous it would be for him if his identity were discovered; he had not known how near to discovery he had come, and by the very person who had the most cause to want him dead. All the more reason why he had to get free of this place.
You have a scar, Laurent had said.
I really liked Damen's reminiscing here. As a literary tool, it actually gives us a few answers, but also poses more questions at the same time. Laurent had said he was there, but it's clear that Damen hadn't seen him. So if Laurent had seen Prince Damianos that day, then it is possible that he would have recognized him only six years later.
Freece keeps me guessing, does Laurent know or doesn't he, but the little hints that maybe he does know are tantalizing.
*
"What did you tell the Regent?" Radel demanded. The last time Radel had looked at him like that, he'd lifted his hand and hit Damen, hard. "You heard me. What did you tell him about the lashing?"
"What should I have told him?" Damen gazed back at him calmly.
"What you should have done," said Radel, "is shown loyalty to your Prince. In ten months--"
"--he will be King," said Damen. "Until then, aren't we subject to the rule of his uncle?"
There was a long, cold pause.
"I see it has not taken you long to learn how to make your way here," Radel said.
I like that Damen is direct in his responses to Radel, still ever the loyalist. Yet, Damen is so infuriatingly honest, what else would he have said about what Laurent had done?
Damen said, "What has happened?"
"You have been summoned to court," said Radel. "I hope you can walk."
With that, a parade of servants entered the room. The preparations that they began eclipsed any Damen had experienced, including those that had been made before the ring.
He was washed, pampered, primped and perfumed. They carefully skirted his healing back but oiled everywhere else, and the oil they used contained gold pigment, so that his limbs gleamed in the torchlight like those of a golden statue.
I love this image, Damen turned into a gold statue. Of any single image in this story, I would love to see this one made by someone. I wish I was a better artist, I'd draw it myself, but it's beyond my meager abilities.
A servant approached with series of three small bowls and a delicate brush, and brought his face close to Damen's, gazing at his features with an expression of concentration, the brush poised. The bowls contained paint for his face. He had not had to suffer the humiliation of paint since Akielos. The servant touched the paint-wet brush-tip to skin, gilt paint to line his eyes, and Damen felt the cold thickness of it on his lashes, and cheeks, and lips.
This time Radel did not say, "No jewellery," and four enameled silver caskets were brought into the room and thrown open. From their gleaming contents, Radel made several selections. The first was a series of fine, near-invisible strings, on which hung tiny rubies spaced at intervals; they were woven into Damen's hair. Then gold for his brow and gold for his waist. Then a leash, snapped onto the collar. The leash was gold too, a fine gold chain, terminating in a golden rod for his handler, the cat carved at one end holding a garnet in its mouth. Much more of this and he was going to clank as he walked.
I love Damen's contempt for being made into such an ostentatious display. It's a small detail, but an important one and very in character for him.
But there was more. There was a final piece; another fine gold chain looped between twin gold devices. Damen didn't recognise what it was until a servant stepped forward and snapped the nipple clamps in place.
He jerked away--too late, besides which it only took a jab to his back to send him to his knees. As his chest rose and fell, the little chain swayed.
"The paint's smudged," said Radel to one of the servants, after assessing Damen's body and face. "There. And there. Reapply it."
"I thought the Prince didn't like paint," said Damen.
"He doesn't," said Radel.
Interesting that Damen is getting prepared in a way that Laurent wouldn't like. When I first read this, I wondered why the Regent had wanted to have Damen painted this way.
*
It was the custom of the Rabatian nobility to dress in subdued splendour, distinguishing themselves from the garish brightness of the pets, where they lavished their greatest displays of wealth. It meant that Damen, cast in gold and escorted through the double doors at the end of a leash, could be mistaken for nothing but what he was. In the crowded chamber, he stood out.
How humiliating for Damen. He is constantly being reminded that he isn't what he was.
So did Laurent. His bright head was instantly recognisable. Damen's gaze fixed on him. Left and right, the courtiers were falling silent and stepping back, clearing a path to the throne.
A red carpet stretched from the double doors to the dais, woven with hunting scenes and apple trees and a border of acanthus. The walls were draped in tapestries, where the same rich red predominated. The throne was swathed in the same colour.
Red, red, red. Laurent clashed.
Damen felt his thoughts scattering. Concentration was keeping him upright. His back ached and throbbed.
With an effort of will, he detached his gaze from Laurent, and turned it to the director of whatever public spectacle was now about to unfold. At the end of the long carpet, the Regent sat on the throne. In his left hand, resting across his knee, he held a golden sceptre of office. Also on the dais were Councillor Audin, and four other men wearing the councillor's chain, including the Ambassador. Standing slightly back from the throne, Damen saw Councillor Audin's pet, the child, done up even more garishly than Damen. The only reason Damen outdid him in sheer volume of gilt was because, being several times the little boy's size, he had substantially more skin available to act as canvas.
A herald called out Laurent's name, and all of his titles.
Walking forward, Laurent joined Damen and his handler in their approach. Damen was starting to view the carpet as an endurance trial. It was not just the presence of Laurent. The correct series of prostrations before the throne seemed specifically designed to ruin a week's worth of healing. Finally it was done.
It does seem to be quite a trial, his back wouldn't have been healed enough to handle this.
Damen knelt, and Laurent bent his knee the appropriate amount.
From the courtiers lining the chamber, Damen heard one or two murmured comments about his back. He supposed that set against the gold paint, it looked rather gruesome. That, he realised suddenly, was the point.
Aha, there was a method to the Regent's madness there. Of course painting up Damen like that would emphasize his wounds, which would turn sentiment against Laurent a bit. The Regent and Laurent seem to always be looking for ways to upstage the other...
The Regent wanted to discipline his nephew, and, with the council behind him, had chosen to do it in public.
A public flogging, Damen had said.
Of course, Damen would have preferred an actual flogging over a metaphorical one, but I guess you have to take whatever it is you can get.
"Uncle," said Laurent.
Straightening, Laurent's posture was relaxed and his expression was undisturbed, but there was something subtle in the set of his shoulders that Damen recognised. It was the look of a man settling in for a fight.
Laurent must have known something like this was going to come, yet he had Damen flogged anyway. I wonder why he lost control like that. Had the thought of Damen taking him been too scary? As much as I would have hoped he would have desired Damen to take him right then and there on the marble tiles of the baths, his lack of desire had been apparent, so it must have been because Damen had scared him. Maybe he had reminded Laurent too much of another man... I do like that he now stands up for himself and will fight.
"Nephew," said the Regent. "I think you can guess why we are here."
"A slave laid hands on me and I had him flogged for it." Calmly.
"Twice," said the Regent. "Against my orders. The second time, against the advice that it might lead to his death. Almost, it did."
"He's alive. The advice was incorrect." Again, calmly.
"You were also advised of my order: that in my absence the slave wasn't to be touched," said the Regent. "Search your memory. You'll find that advice was accurate. Yet you ignored it."
"I didn't think you'd mind. I know you are not so subservient towards Akielos that you would want the slave's actions to go unpunished just because he is a gift from Kastor."
The blue-eyed innocence was faultless. Laurent, Damen thought with contempt, was good at talking. He wondered if the Regent was regretting doing this in public. But the Regent did not look perturbed, or even surprised. Well, he would be used to dealing with Laurent.
"I can think of several reasons why you should not have a King's gift beaten almost to death, immediately after the signing of a treaty. Not the least because I ordered it. You claim to have administered a just punishment. But the truth is different."
The Regent gestured, and a man stepped forward. "The Prince offered me a gold coin if I could flog the slave to death."
It was the moment when sympathy palpably swung away from Laurent.
For Laurent, this whole exchange was probably worse than flogging because it will likely cost him support in court. The Regent is being very sly in making Laurent the villain here, but was he also laying the groundwork for him later taking over the throne?
Laurent, realising it, opened his mouth to speak, but the Regent cut him off.
"No. You've had your chance to make apologies, or give reasonable excuses. You chose instead to show unrepentant arrogance. You do not yet have the right to spit in the face of Kings. At your age, your brother was leading armies and bringing glory to his country."
This is probably the root of the problem that the Regent has with Laurent. Yet who does he really have to blame? No one but himself, if not for what he had done to Laurent as a child, the man would probably be more like his brother.
"What have you achieved in the same time? When you shirked your responsibilities at court, I ignored it. When you refused to do your duty on the border at Delfeur, I let you have your way. But this time your disobedience has threatened an accord between nations. The council and I have met and agreed we must take action."
The Regent spoke in a voice of unquestioned power that was heard in every corner of the chamber.
"Your lands of Varenne and Marche are forfeit, along with all troops and monies that accompany them. You retain only Acquitart. For the next ten months, you will find your income reduced, and your retinue diminished. You will petition to me directly for any expenses. Be grateful you retain Acquitart, and that we have not taken this decree further."
A public flogging indeed.
Shock rippled across the assembly. There was outrage on some faces. But on many others there was something quietly satisfied, and the shock was less. In that moment, it was obvious which of the courtiers comprised the Regent's faction, and which Laurent's. And that Laurent's was smaller.
"Be grateful I retain Acquitart," said Laurent, "which by law you cannot take away and which besides has no accompanying troops and little strategic importance?"
It still stings, though, that's the only land he maintains controls over.
"Do you think it pleases me to discipline my own nephew? No uncle acts with a heavier heart."
Yeah, right. I believe that... I think he rather enjoyed knocking Laurent down a few notches.
"Shoulder your responsibilities--ride to Delfeur--show me you have even a drop of your brother's blood and I will joyfully restore it all."
"I think there is an old caretaker at Acquitart. Shall I ride to the border with him? We could share armour."
"Don't be facile. If you agreed to fulfill your duty you would not lack for men."
"Why would I waste my time on the border when, at Kastor's whim, you roll over?"
Showing off his crude side wasn't probably the best choice, was it? Aw... Laurent isn't always in control as much as he would like.
For the first time, the Regent looked angry. "You claim this is a matter of national pride, but you are unwilling to lift a finger to serve your own country. The truth is that you acted out of petty malice, and now you're smarting at discipline. This is on your own head. Embrace the slave in apology, and we are done."
Embrace the slave?
When I read this, I was like "What?" LOL! Embracing Damen is probably the last thing Laurent would ever want to do.
Anticipation among the gathered courtiers winched tighter.
I liked this image, anticipation being like a line that gets winched tighter. I think if it got any tighter though, that line is going to snap.
Damen was urged onto his feet by his handler. Expecting Laurent to baulk at his uncle's order, Damen was startled when, after a lingering look at his uncle, Laurent approached, with soft, obedient grace.
Yeah, I was surprised too... I wouldn't have expected Laurent to obey this order.
He hooked a finger in the chain that stretched across Damen's chest, and drew him forward by it. Damen, feeling the sustained pull at twin points, came as he was bid. With cool detachment, Laurent's fingers gathered rubies, inclining Damen's head down far enough to kiss him on the cheek. The kiss was insubstantial: not a single mote of gold paint transferred itself to Laurent's lips in the process.
"You look like a whore." The soft words barely stirred the air by Damen's ear, inaudible to anyone else. Laurent murmured: "Filthy painted slut. Did you spread for my uncle the way you did for Kastor?"
Damen recoiled violently, and gold paint smeared. He was staring at Laurent from two paces away, revolted.
Laurent lifted the back hand to his cheek, now streaked with gold, then turned back to the Regent with a wide-eyed expression of injured innocence. "Witness the slave's behaviour for yourself. Uncle, you wrong me cruelly. The slave's punishment on the cross was deserved: you can see for yourself how arrogant and rebellious he is. Why do you punish your own blood when the fault lies with Akielos?"
Move, and counter move. There was a danger in doing something like this publicly. And indeed, there was another shift, perhaps, within the assembly.
Of course now it makes sense that he did as his uncle ordered, it gave him a chance to 'prove' what an 'arrogant and rebellious' slave Damen is. Laurent never gives up the chance to be cruel to Damen and if it also serves his purposes, even better. It's a win-win.
I love it when freece does things like this, makes things seem impossible, but in retrospect they fit so well. She uses these kinds of reverses very well.
"You claim the slave was at fault, and deserved punishment. Very well. He has received it. Now you receive yours. Even you are subject to the rule of Regent and Council. Accept it gracefully."
Laurent lowered his blue eyes, martyring himself. "Yes, uncle."
He was diabolical.
Yes, he is. It's one reason why I love Laurent. He's completely diabolical. It must be fun for freece to write this story.
Perhaps this was the answer to how he won loyalty from the Prince's Guard; he simply wrapped them around his finger. On the dais, Councillor Audin was frowning a little, and looking at Laurent with the first signs of troubled sympathy.
Oh, I love to see how well Laurent's plan is working. Getting a sycophant of his uncle's to sympathize with him? It is probably quite the coup and probably made losing his revenue worth it because of the more important long-term gain.
The Regent ended proceedings, rose, and departed, perhaps for some awaiting entertainment. The councillors left with him. The symmetry of the chamber broke down as courtiers unlocked themselves from their positions on either side of the carpet and began to mingle more freely.
"You may hand me the leash," said a pleasant voice, very close.
Oh, I had a very bad feeling about Laurent's plans for Damen when I read this...
Damen looked up into a pair of pellucid blue eyes. Beside him, the handler hesitated.
The man is probably the Regent's, but the slave is Laurent's, so there is nothing he could have done to prevent Laurent from tormenting Damen further.
"Why do you delay?" Laurent held out his hand and smiled. "The slave and I have embraced and are joyously reconciled."
'Joyously reconciled'?? LOL! I'm not sure that's what I'd call it, but I don't think there was any joy on either side.
The handler passed him the leash. Laurent immediately drew the chain taut.
"Come with me," Laurent said.
What a chilling ending to this chapter. I worried for poor Damen.
One thing I like so much about this story, are the cliff-hangers. It makes me want to read the next chapter so badly and make me wish my own writing was as spare, yet as detailed. It's a fine balance.