Captive Prince: Volume Two

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.

Damen felt it in his own body, a new pull in his chest at the look in Laurent’s dark eyes.

‘I wish it could have been different between us, I wish I could have behaved to you with more honour. I want you to know that you will have a friend across the border, whatever happens tomorrow, whatever happens to both of us.’

‘Friends,’ said Laurent. ‘Is that what we are?’

‘Your own father would be proud today.’

Hail to the Prince, and closer to, his own name repeated, Damen, Damen.

‘I need you to captain the men. Take the command from Jord. It’s yours. It should have been you,’ said Laurent, ‘from the start.’ The words were hard as he spoke of Touars: ‘He is going to fight.’

He was lucky, at first. The sun was not yet at the midpoint of the sky when he overtook the two men. He was lucky to have chosen the right road. He was lucky that they had not conserved their sweat-lathered horses, and that when they saw him, instead of splitting up or pushing their exhausted horses forward, they wheeled and turned, wanting to fight. He was lucky they didn’t have bows.

He didn’t care who Laurent took to bed.

‘Leave that. Attend me,’ Laurent said.

‘These are healing salves. It should be done every night. It will help the scarring to fade a little, in time.’

‘I wasn’t sure you’d come back.’

‘I came back,’