In the last installment of Age of Mycea

In the first installment of Age of Mycea

Morning came, and preparations were made, organizing tables to receive citizens and seating for those who would interact with them in the square. The king occupied one table where a line was already forming. He would be approving taxes, hearing from those with issues with their neighbors, and addressing legal matters that needed attention or clarification.

The taxes would then be turned over to the bookkeeper.

Punishments and other decisions would be implemented immediately.

Sebastian usually would have played the king’s part, but this morning, he found himself standing behind Meshia, whispering to him every so often when someone came to the front of the line whom Meshia had no prior experience with.

“Next.” Meshia motioned for a man and his young son to come forward. They had a white goat in tow, one with the exuberance of a young squirrel. It was likely a yearling at most.

The thin man bowed. “Your Majesty.”

“Taxes.” Meshia crossed his arms. Sebastian tried his best to contain a grin. It was going to be one of those days. More livestock. At least they would be eating well for a while.

It wasn’t as if the monarchy needed the money. It was a formality, the tax collection. The empire had enough gold and jewels to hold them over for a hundred lifetimes.

“This goat here, if it pleases Your Majesty. I was injured this past year. Unable to work on milling lumber. I have not been able to provide for my wee son here.” He looked down at his son, no older than five. “I’m all he has. We’ve been relying on the kindness of neighbors.”

Meshia tapped his pencil on the tally sheet. Sebastian could sense him hesitating. The goat was a perfectly acceptable way for this man to pay his taxes.

Surely, he would not expect more.

The king rose to his feet, circled the table, and squatted down to be eye level with the young boy. Sebastian had not noticed, but the boy was crying.

Meshia placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Is this goat your friend?”

The boy nodded, tears running down his face. He swiped a hand across his skin to clear them in an attempt to appear stoic. Meshia rose to his feet and turned to the father.

“Consider your tax debt paid, but I will not be taking your son’s friend from him. And I never want to hear word that you sold or slaughtered this animal, or your tax will become due … and worse.”

Meshia made his way back to his seat. “Have I made myself understood?”

The man nodded and bowed. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I will obey your request.” Meshia grunted and waved the next in line to him. It was a woman with a basket full of eggs.

Before he had a chance to speak to the woman, the sound of something being dragged through the square could be heard. Sebastian rose on his toes to see Krunk lumbering toward them, a bloody mess of flesh and torn clothing gripped tightly in his hand.

Meshia met him halfway across the stone cobbles of the central square. All eyes were turned toward him, a crowd gathering. Sebastian shifted his position, watching the villagers for anyone who might object to the example Meshia was about to make of this man.

The man in Krunk’s grasp was made to kneel at the king’s feet. He had to be held from tipping over; the man’s consciousness was wavering. His head lolled side-to-side, both eyes bloody and swollen shut. His nose was broken in multiple places, and his teeth hung haphazardly from his puffy and drooling mouth. The rest of him seemed to be in no better shape.

Sebastian stepped closer to the spectacle unfolding. Krunk had done his best work for whatever crime this man had committed.

“I see you received my message.” Meshia grasped the man’s hair, forcing him to look up at him. “I trust Krunk explained everything, and we won’t need to have this conversation again.”

A slurred response of “Yes, Your Majesty” tumbled from the man’s mouth.

Meshia released the man’s head and clapped his hands together. “Excellent.” He strode back to his table and took up his seat again. “Next.”

The poor woman nearly dropped her eggs; she was shaking so badly.

The road had been heading upward for hours now. The climb was made more difficult as the sky opened once more, pouring rain down upon them.

Whereas the road earlier had been packed well, the incline of this portion of the trip resembled trudging up a rivulet-streaked riverbed. The cart would often need all men to dismount and push. It was slow going.

As the sun began to set, the decision was made to stop and make camp for the evening. Sebastian grabbed one of his saddlebags and handed his reins to one of his men. Before long, he was scurrying down an embankment, a cliff’s edge, to an escarpment he had discovered years back when trying to get a better look over the valley.

Sebastian turned when he heard small rocks tumbling down from along the path, indicating someone else was making their way to what he had hoped would be a private place to reflect.

A short scuffling sound, then Meshia appeared. He stopped short. “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone else knew about this place.”

“Your Majesty.” Sebastian bowed. “I found it quite by accident.”

“It’s something, isn’t it?” Meshia was taking in the expanse below them, a smile on his face. “My mother used to bring me here when I was young. It was our secret spot.”

Sebastian shrugged his saddle bag onto his shoulder and started for the path.

“I’ll leave you alone.”

Meshia touched his arm. “No, sit. I could use some sane company. I appreciate your men for volunteering for this trip, but what, by all the angels, are you feeding them? I can’t bear to hear one more vulgar recounting of their sexual exploits.”

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Sebastian snorted out a laugh and found a place to sit. He opened his bag and ripped a loaf of bread in half, handing one half to Meshia. He did the same with a piece of jerky. “It’s possible I encourage them, Your Majesty.”

Meshia turned the bread over in his hand. “Sebastian, we’re alone. You can cut the subservience.” He brought the bread to his nose and sniffed it.

“Right then. Meshia, sit your ass down and eat.” Sebastian grinned and patted the piece of ground to his left. He exhaled a relief-filled breath as Meshia took a seat beside him, closer than he had anticipated, their shoulders touching. He tucked a piece of bread into his mouth.

Meshia pulled a thin strip of jerky away with his teeth. Chewed and swallowed.

“Please tell me you brought this with you, and it’s not some of that conjured rubbish you’re always munching on.” Meshia was one of the few people who knew he could conjure.

“I get hungry.” Sebastian waved his piece of jerky in front of Meshia. “I promise it’s from the inn we just left. Pocketed on site.”

Meshia grunted his acceptance and went back to looking out over the valley as he ate the food Sebastian had given him.

Sebastian pointed to where he was looking. “If it wasn’t for the thin plumes of smoke, you’d never know there are villages down amongst that thick tree cover.”

Meshia nodded, his features becoming contemplative. Lips soft but brow furrowed. “My mother used to call it the Mycean Sea of Green.”

“You don’t usually speak about your mother.”

“Not to most, no.” Meshia pressed his knee to Sebastian’s leg. “It’s too painful.”

Sebastian peered at the tortured man seated next to him. There was a level of trust between them that had never existed before that night—a closeness.

He touched Meshia’s knee with his hand.

“Meshia ….”

Meshia brushed the crumbs from his hands and rose to his feet.

“We should get back to camp.”

The men were predictably rowdy, seated around the campfire. Sebastian smiled. He might have magically conjured a bottle of rum, transporting it from the inn to his saddle bag once the dinner dishes had been cleared away.

Chicken again. Always chicken.

A fat boar would make a welcome change.

Meshia excused himself and headed for where the horses were corralled. They were just out of sight of the campfire in the darkness.

Sebastian set his cup down and followed him, taking a different route than Meshia had, so it would not look as if he were following him. He found the king brushing down his horse, a task that had already been completed.

Sebastian stepped up beside him and patted the neck of Meshia’s steed, whispering some comforting words to it, but it wasn’t the horse who needed to be soothed.

“Meshia ….” He placed his hand on Meshia’s, stopping him from brushing, and settled his other hand on Meshia’s back. “You were watching me with those women.”

Meshia exhaled and yanked his hand from Sebastian’s hold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Last night. Your face … your eyes.” Sebastian stepped closer to Meshia. The pain he had witnessed, the longing, the sadness—it had melted his heart that a man so often temperamental, angry, and unfeeling could exhibit such emotion.

“Sebastian, it was a mistake what happened between us on Kronos.” Meshia turned away and retreated to the other side of his horse. “We thought we were going to die.”

Sebastian followed him and pinned him against the nearest tree. His lips were close enough to kiss him. Maybe he should break the tension hovering between them. “Have you never wondered why I was the one thing you desired most before you died?”

Meshia was tracking Sebastian’s gaze. This was the closest they had been to each other since that night. The temptation to draw his king back into what they had experienced two years ago was excruciating to delay a moment longer. He needed Meshia’s touch so badly.

Time and place. And this is not it. The best he could manage was to sneak into Meshia’s tent later that evening once the rest of their entourage was asleep.

Before he could whisper to Meshia what he was thinking, the ground shook beneath their feet, causing Sebastian to stumble into Meshia’s arms.

Meshia clung to him, momentarily, until Sebastian took a step back as a violent shudder reverberated, shaking needles loose from the trees above and frightening the horses.

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Krunk came running through the darkness, nearly tripping in his haste. He slid to a stop near the two men, unaware of what had been transpiring; his focus was on urgency.

“Your Majesty.” He bowed. “Commander. The Neter colony is under attack.”

As if to amplify that fact, the sound of bombs dropping could be heard. The ground beneath their feet echoed the unfolding reality of what Krunk had told them.

They rushed to the edge of the cliff overlooking the valley. In the distance, the colony of Neter was lit up by explosions in the night, revealing its location amongst the trees.

Sebastian ducked instinctively as three dart-shaped ships flew overhead, destined for the colony. Not their ships. They did not have technology like that in their arsenal of flight craft.

Meshia grabbed Sebastian’s arm. “We need a ship. The queen is there on her own.”

“Zoltar is there with her, and Queen Lakeda is more than capable of managing the armies until we get back. We are riding. I won’t have the king lost in a downed ship.”

Meshia scowled but agreed, accepting the reins of his now saddled horse.

They took off at a gallop into the night.

The story continues … soon …

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In the last installment of Age of Mycea

In the first installment of Age of Mycea

Meshia found himself out on the inn’s front steps, looking out at the square, wondering what he was doing here. There had been no reason for him to make this trip. His citizens were more than capable of traveling to the capital to have their grievances heard by him if they were not satisfied with the rulings laid down by the commander of his third.

Sebastian had taken to the position with ease. He had not heard any complaints about Sebastian’s decisions. His rulings were fair—his punishments, just and swift.

He trusted him.

Meshia sighed. He trusted Sebastian with more than hearing grievances. They had a secret. A secret that could ruin him.

A secret that could bring down the empire.

He took the steps down to the muddy square. It had stopped raining, but everything was still dripping from the downpour. He looked up into the hills. There was someone he wanted to see tonight. Someone who could take his mind off the intricacies of the situation he had placed himself in with Sebastian. It had been many years. It was time to pay her his respects.

He headed toward a slope that banked away from the square, up into the trees. If she were still in the same place, he should have no trouble finding her. He glanced over his shoulder at the shadow that was following him; Krunk was certainly diligent in his duty.

Meshia exhaled, distracted. Sebastian knew how to command his battalion so that they came to adore him. They would follow him anywhere. It was an incredible skill. One he did not possess himself. True to his nature and his lineage, he tended to rule by fear.

A legacy his depraved father had instilled in him.

The cottage appeared through the trees, smoke billowing from the hearth within. He tapped on the door, expectant of the kind face that would appear.

The sight of her nearly stopped his heart.

Carmella had been his first love. Years of gathering taxes with his father, King Amundar, had placed him in Carmella’s path time and again from the age of eleven. Year after year.

Over time, they had fallen in love, much to his father’s outrage.

One summer, they had arrived at the village in time to see Carmella’s wedding. His father’s design. Typically, they would not have been in the vicinity so early in the summer. His father had arranged the marriage and purposely made sure Meshia was there to witness it.

It was the kindest of cruelties his father had ever exacted upon him.

The last time Meshia had seen Carmella, she had been married with two young children. Now she was a widow. Her husband had given his life in the war on Kronos.

“Carmella …,” he whispered.

She bowed. “Your Majesty.” Stepping back to allow access, Carmella squeezed against the wall of the small cottage. “What brings you to my doorstep?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve been to Sibas. Six years. I couldn’t find myself here without coming to see you.” Meshia looked around the one-room cottage. There were gaps in the walls letting the night air in and broken windows with ripped pieces of cloth guarding against the wind. He scuffed his feet. The floor was dirt, and mud was seeping in along the edges. To either side of him were sleeping platforms, broken and heaving, thin, torn blankets covering moldy nests of hay.

Meshia scowled.

“Have you not been getting your widow’s pension?” This beautiful, caring woman should not be living like this. If he’d had his way, he would have married her in his youth and brought her back to the castle. Treated her like the queen she would have become. But it wasn’t to be.

But this instead? The pension he had set up for widows should have afforded her more comfort than she was currently enduring.

Carmella sat on the edge of one of the sleeping platforms. “A portion of it. The mayor takes most of it as an administration fee.”

She reached for Meshia. “Sit with me.”

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“Carmella, that’s not right.” Meshia raised his hand. “Wait.” He reached back and opened the door. As expected, Krunk was standing guard outside. He gave Krunk a brief accounting of what had been happening with the widow’s pension fund. That the mayor had been wiping it out with a fee.

Krunk simply nodded and headed off in the direction of the village square.

Carmella furrowed her brow. “Is he …?”

“He’ll deliver a message for me, that’s all.” Meshia sat beside her and reached for her hand. “Where are your children?”

“They are with my mother tonight.”

“Are they well?”

“Almost fully grown now. Candalee will be fourteen next spring. Arum eleven.”

Meshia simply nodded.

Carmella squeezed Meshia’s hand. “Why now? Why are you here?”

“I wanted to offer my condolences for the loss of your husband. I’m sorry it has taken me so long to find my way to Sibas to do so.”

Carmella dipped her head. “Thank you. It was a great loss. I had come to love Keb. Even though your father arranged the marriage, he chose well. I am certain it was not on purpose, but Keb was a gentle, loving man. Poor as we were, we were happy.”

“I’m glad of that, at least.”

“And you?” Carmella straightened up and smiled. “Your marriage. Is it as wondrous as one would imagine it to be? Surely having a queen such as Lakeda has brought you great joy.”

Meshia stared down at the ground. “You would think, but it is a marriage of convenience—political, truly. I was forced to choose. I chose Lakeda. She was best suited to the task.”

Carmella brushed her hand across Meshia’s. “Surely, you’ve formed a connection between the two of you. A bond of sorts. Something.”

“I respect her.” Meshia rubbed his thumb across Carmella’s wrist. “I respect her ability to rule and her agility and courage on the battlefield.”

“Ah ….” Carmella sighed. “Is there someone else in your life?”

Meshia rotated his head, attempting to relax his shoulders. Even thinking about Sebastian brought on a great deal of stress. “Perhaps, but they are unattainable.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. I can’t bear to think you’re unhappy.”

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“I’m content.” He released Carmella’s hand and patted her leg. “I have other matters that are of more imminent importance than my personal life.” Meshia rose to his feet. “It has been wonderful seeing you.” He bent and kissed her cheek. “I won’t stay away as long, I promise. And the problem with your pension will be solved shortly.”

Carmella opened the door and gripped Meshia’s arm as he was about to step through the doorway. “Perhaps the unattainable will become attainable.”

Meshia touched Carmella’s cheek, brushing his fingers along her jaw. “Perhaps.”

The walk back was peaceful; the trees’ stillness was only interrupted occasionally by the wind. He loved Mycea. Every heavily wooded mountain peak and valley, from ocean to ocean, of the temperate rainforest he called home. Seeing Carmella had soothed him somewhat. She had always had a calming effect on him. She would have made him happy.

He decided to enjoy the quiet for a while, heading into the trees along a path that led to more houses. He found a stump to sit on and just pondered life for well over an hour. It had certainly come with some twists and turns.

Sebastian being one of them.

Just let it go.

Meshia dismissed the thoughts rampaging through his mind and made a start toward the inn. The path back was serene; the scent of damp cedar invigorated him.

He took the steps two at a time, feeling somewhat lighter. The pub in the inn was unexpectedly quiet. Only a few of Sebastian’s men were still perched around the table, tankards of ale in hand, barely keeping their heads above the wooden table planks. The stairs to the inn’s rooms were to the rear of the space. Meshia made his way to them, stepping over a few of Sebastian’s troops who had not quite made it up the stairs before passing out.

He would be sharing accommodation tonight with Sebastian and two others. Krunk, who was likely not back yet, and one other. Meshia pushed open the door and ducked inside. Sebastian was still entertaining the two guests he had invited up to their room in his absence.

Meshia sat on the edge of his bed and began unlacing his boots. It was far from the first time he had been in the same space as Sebastian when he had been rutting. There was no other word for it. The emotion and tenderness Sebastian had exhibited when they were together were not there with any of these conquests he picked up along the way.

It was pure animalistic Cardinian nature at its fullest. Sebastian’s ability to fuck his way through a population was regrettably impressive.

He slipped one boot off and looked up. The firelight was reflecting warmly off the smooth surface of Sebastian’s chest and down his chiseled abs. He became mesmerized by the fluid movement of Sebastian’s seemingly perfect body.

His gaze traced the enticing curve of Sebastian’s muscular thigh as Sebastian mounted one of the women. It sent a crushing pain through his chest as he watched them together. When Sebastian looked over at him, Meshia was overcome by a deep sense of longing and shame.

Flustered, he looked away and began working on his other boot. Throwing his second boot under the bed, he stripped back the blankets. He climbed in, pinching his eyes closed, and attempted to block out the sound of Sebastian’s escalating arousal and his ultimate release.

The initial sound didn’t last. Hushed whispers drifted across the room instead. Rustling petticoats. Shoes. The door of the room creaked open, then clicked shut. Silence followed.

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“You didn’t have to do that for me,” Meshia ventured.

They were alone in the room. Their fourth was probably one of the men passed out on the table downstairs. Sebastian padded across the floor toward him, a sheet wrapped around his waist, bits dragging, bunching, barely held in place by Sebastian’s fist.

He squatted beside Meshia’s bed.

“You know I did.” His free hand hovered above Meshia’s cheek. After a moment of hesitation, he brushed his knuckle across it. “I’ll never forget.”

After Sebastian went back to his own bed, Meshia lay awake, replaying the feel of Sebastian’s skin against his. The soft touch of his knuckle on his cheek. The emotion that had accompanied that touch. The intention … the promise.

Sleep was impossible after that.

The story continues … soon …

In the first installment of Age of Mycea

2 years later

Their horses tripped along through the mud, throwing wet clods of earth upon the forelimbs and hooves of the beast behind them, the heavy downfall of rain making matters increasingly worse.

A lumbering cart and twelve armed men atop twelve horses.

A road centuries old.

Scattered, plodding, the autumn winds were bending the trees along the narrow road that had been traveled countless times to undertake this task. The Capital Region was far from vast, fortuitously. The small villages of lumber suppliers that occupied the valley surrounding the Neter colony on the planet of Mycea were few but spread a fair distance apart.

It would take them the better part of two weeks to reach them all.

The task was simple. Collect taxes, hear grievances, and log new applicants eligible to receive military widows’ pensions. It was time-consuming and tedious for all involved.

Sebastian shifted in his saddle, finding enjoyment in the comforting creak of the leather and the scent drifting up from his wet gloves, reins, and leather breastplate. Months, sometimes years, on various battlefields had warmed him to the subtle sensations of simply being alive.

The Neter Round Road, with its rutted surface, unavoidable pits of thick mud, and dense Mycean forests overshadowing it, was as familiar to him as the Neter colony itself. His quarterly task was to make this trip: him, nine of his best men, and the bookkeeper.

Sebastian straightened, peering above the shoulders of the men in front of him.

This time was different. King Meshia had decided at the last minute to come with them. He desired to meet the citizens in their home villages to hear their grievances rather than have them travel to the Neter colony. Sparing them the long trek to the opulent palace he called home.

The king’s natural inclination did not typically lean in the direction of accommodation when it came to his citizens. It was a welcome change. Something had shifted in the king since the war on Kronos. The battle had left scars, not all of them visible.

The ground grew increasingly pungent the more the rain fell, the horses’ hooves and the wheels of the cart churning up the wet, fragrant soil. Of all the planets, Mycea was one of the wettest. Only rivaled by Kaenum, a planet whose military was always seeking its independence from the empire. They were also disorganized, leading to tactical mistakes.

They’d been under the empire’s thumb for over a century.

They were going to stay there.

Sebastian adjusted his reins, switching hands. Up ahead, the king led the procession: his posture exuded self-assurance and confidence in his position. King Meshia was a born ruler. Decisive, intelligent, and impartial. He ruled with the skill of one many decades older than himself.

The respect Sebastian felt for him was immense.

He watched the languid motion of the king’s body, his hips, his shoulders rocking rhythmically with the movement of his horse. Sebastian grunted his appreciation. He had followed those broad shoulders into many battles in the ten years he had served under him.

He would lay down his life to protect them; die for the man wielding them.

Sebastian scrubbed a hand across his mouth. It had been two years since he had been summoned to the king’s tent on Kronos. Two years of wondering what it had meant.

If anything at all.

They had lost many soldiers the following morning, but a blizzard had moved in, giving them the cover they needed to adjust their position. They had barely escaped with their lives. Reinforcements had arrived the next day, and they had driven the Marjar from the planet, maintaining control over the valuable source of ore that was crucial to their military.

His relationship with the king had been strained for a while—awkward even. Time had improved that. Now their interactions bordered on playful. His comfort level with the military leader he served so faithfully had developed into a friendship of sorts.

He was careful not to expose the shift in their relationship in front of his troops. The king was, as always, first a monarch. Addressing him had protocols Sebastian felt compelled to observe.

Woefully, being subservient came naturally to him—an unfortunate remnant of his heritage. The struggle to overcome it and become a leader had not come easily.

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Sebastian of Cardin, Commander of the Third. The title had been hard-earned. He had worked his way up from the very bottom. Lower than the bottom. He was Cardinian, and Cardinians did not typically amount to anything more than their master’s favorite slave.

The opportunities he had been afforded were thanks to his former owner. A young girl, named Lakeda, now the queen to his king, had insisted that he receive a complete Mycean education in their childhood. Mandatory military training included.

On her eighteenth birthday, the day she unexpectedly set him free, she had given him the most incredible gift he could have received. Freedom and the education and training to thrive.

It was midday, and it seemed they were not stopping for a break. The king likely wanted to get to the next village before nightfall. They had fallen behind because of the heavy rain, which was soaking everything. The canvas of the cart they used to store supplies and the variety of taxes collected was sagging in places and darkening from the wet.

Sebastian shivered.

The turning of the cart’s wheel was causing him a great deal of annoyance. The timing was off. Not even suitable to hum a tune along with. One-two-three-four-pop. A beat of five, time and again. One-two-three-four-pop. He directed his attention elsewhere—namely, his stomach.

Sebastian tied his reins and flipped open one of his saddlebags. It took him less than a moment to magically conjure an apple and a loaf of sourdough bread into its interior.

He took a large bite of the apple. It was not stealing. Not really. The proprietor at the last inn had offered them any provisions they needed. The fact that he had taken some now rather than when he had been standing there in the inn should not matter.

What mattered was that no one saw what he was doing.

It was a learned fact that, throughout history, few Cardinians had the capability to conjure. Those who were discovered to have them were considered dangerous. Often killed. Sebastian knew of only one other: a powerful wizard-level conjurer. One he would protect at any cost.

“How do you still have food, Commander?”

A massive soldier to his left, one that had served with him for years, leaned toward him. Half of his face was marred by the effects of a broadsword slicing through his flesh, leaving him with only one good eye. He was a good man, Krunk. Loyal.

He had volunteered to come on this venture to act as a bodyguard for the king. All the men on this trip were from Sebastian’s battalion. Over the years, he had cultivated a steadfast crew.

Sebastian grinned. “Superior rationing skills, I guess.”

“Pass me some of that bread.” Krunk snorted his appreciation when Sebastian ripped a hunk of bread from the round and handed it to him. There was more than enough to go around.

Especially when he could conjure more whenever it ran out.

It was the perfect solution to his constant hunger. If it were not considered unseemly to be seen drinking wine atop his horse in front of the monarch, life would be perfect.

Many hours later, the village of Sibas came into view as they crested a hill. The first thing one noticed about Sibas was the abundance of wood carvings. They began long before you saw the rustic log-hewn buildings. This was a community of carvers—a people in love with their surroundings. It always brought Sebastian joy to see the artistry in the totems and animal carvings.

The totems often stood 15 feet tall, though some were taller. Each family had its own ranking of animals, carved in the form of their lineage. Smaller depictions of bears, foxes, cougars, and even rabbits littered the square at the center of the village. Most of the main buildings faced that square. Residences tended to be scattered throughout the surrounding hills.

The inn they were headed for lay directly in the village center.

Once there, Sebastian swung his leg over his horse’s head and slipped off his saddle, landing deftly on his feet. He passed his reins to one of the inn’s stable hands.

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King Meshia headed straight for the inn, but Sebastian held back. Soon, news of their arrival would circulate throughout the village. Before long, women would be gathering at the inn looking for him. It was a side of his routine he preferred the king not be privy to.

Sebastian snorted out a laugh. If the king did not know by now that the commander of his third battalion had a penchant for amenable company, he had not been paying attention. It was different now, though. Now that the two of them had been intimate. Or maybe it wasn’t. A night of weakness is hardly a reason to change how I live my life when in the king’s company.

He pulled the canvas of the cart tight and retied the knot, securing it for the night. They had collected extraordinarily little so far. It was unlikely anyone would be so bold as to break into the king’s tax cart. They would be disappointed if they did. All the coins were with the bookkeeper and would be guarded within the inn. The cart only contained in-kind tax contributions. Mostly chickens. They would be eating chicken for the entire journey if this trend continued.

Stalling techniques at their natural conclusion, Sebastian headed for the inn. One he knew well. The men were already gathered in the pub area. The volume of their voices drowned out the conversations of other patrons. They were a raucous group. One of the reasons he typically chose these same men to make the tax rounds with him. They made the entire boring venture more entertaining and salaciously worthy of their Cardinian commander.

Sebastian slipped onto a portion of a bench at the end of the table next to Krunk. King Meshia, who had seated himself at the head of the table, was to his left. The king looked lost amidst the chaos that Sebastian’s men were creating. Drink and food orders were flying with little regard to the fact that the head of the empire was seated at the same table with them.

The proprietress spotted Sebastian’s raised hand and made her way over to their table, one hand on her hip. “Yes, Commander, you beckoned.”

“Sasha darling, I think the king would like to order.”

Sasha, to her credit, did not falter. She pulled off a perfect curtsy, head bowed.

“Your Majesty. I had no idea. Please accept my apologies.”

Meshia waved his hand at her, dismissing her atonement. “Two drafts of your best beer and two ….” He looked at Sebastian and smirked. “Make that three meat pies.”

Head bowed, she curtsied, then backed away. “Your Majesty.”

“You know me so well,” Sebastian whispered. Krunk was occupied with a conversation at the other end of the table. It was just the two of them. The thought made Sebastian feel warm inside. He could not shake the memory of what they had done together in that tent on Kronos.

Meshia had been a tender, generous lover. Spending his time acquainting himself with every curve and angle of Sebastian’s body. His soft lips seeking out those areas that would drive Sebastian wild with desire. The passion he had shown that night was evident in everything Meshia did. Sebastian could see that now. And it made it harder to forget—to let go.

“You’re always hungry.”

Sebastian softened his expression. “For more than food.”

“Yes, well ….” Meshia took a sip of the beer set before him. The white foam collected on his upper lip, pooling at the peak. The temptation to lean over and lick the froth from Meshia’s lips was nearly overwhelming. Sebastian cleared his throat and took a sip of his own beer.

Giggling could be heard coming through the front door of the inn. Sebastian leaned back, preparing himself. The evening’s entertainment was there in full force. Celina had brought her cousin with her again. Sebastian set his beer down. Gertrude? His last time in Sibas was a bit of a blur. Without Meshia’s presence, drinking astride his horse was not an uncommon occurrence.

He usually arrived in Sibas three bottles of wine ahead of the game.

Sebastian broke out his best smile as the two women approached. “Celina, darling, aren’t you just the most scrumptious thing in the whole damned place this evening?” The sentiment was genuine. Celina was a beautiful woman. And crazy intelligent. They had spent as much time talking as they had fucking over the years. Maybe more.

Celina slipped into Sebastian’s lap and wrapped an arm around his neck, nuzzling his ear. Gertrude brushed her hands through his hair as she came to stand behind him.

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The look on Meshia’s face was telling.

Their night together had meant more to him than he was willing to let on.

“I’ll eat later.” Meshia rose to his feet, pushing his chair back. He laid one Neter gold coin down on the table. Enough to pay for whatever food, drink, or entertainment Sebastian’s men might find themselves craving tonight. He tapped his finger on it, then turned and left the inn.

The story continues …

Blood, conquest, and glory at his side become respect and admiration—and longing

The Marjar attack on Mycea sets in motion a series of changes in the empire’s ruling structure that will forever impact the lives of three powerful men. King Meshia, supreme ruler of the empire, Sebastian of Cardin, Commander of the Third Imperial battalion, and Sebastian’s Cardinian lover and best friend, Leo, a gifted healer beyond any that have come before him.

King Meshia has a secret, one that might cost him his crown. One that would certainly diminish his capacity to rule and lead the empire’s forces into battle. One night of unbridled passion, one weakness, one deep longing that could bring the monarchy to its knees.

Sebastian of Cardin, Commander of the Third Empirical Battalion, knows that love comes in many forms. He lives it, he breathes it. He is unapologetic. The military and his home in the Entertainment District in the Neter Colony on Mycea suit every aspect of his life.

Leo of Cardin, a conjuring Cardinian, an anomaly of nature. Skilled in his craft of healing magic. A force to be reckoned with in his own right. His relationship with Sebastian does not define every aspect of his life. He, too, has a secret, his family heritage placing him in a position of incredible power.

Their world in turmoil, they will be called upon to embrace the love in their lives and abandon their long-held prejudices against one another to preserve the people's survival throughout the empire they call home.

They were all going to die. As soon as the morning sun rose over the tundra, their few remaining regiments of troops would be wiped out. They were surrounded. Permitted one final night.

Sebastian trudged through the offering of fresh snow, his chest tightening, his breath billowing clouds of mist before his eyes. The snow’s arrival had warmed the frigid air somewhat.

But his soldiers were suffering.

The weather on Kronos was not for the weak-hearted. Any season would test the hardiest of those who found themselves there. The third planet from Mycea had five seasons ranging from sweltering heat to bone-chilling temperatures that few could survive.

What had started as a quick skirmish to put down had turned into an outright, lengthy war. After surviving winter, early spring had not been kind. Their rations had run out. They had lost dozens of military men and women to hypothermia and starvation.

Fortunately, the full bloom of spring had brought them an abundance of game to feed themselves, but they’d suffered crippling heatstroke throughout the summer.

And now, it was winter again.

With one of Kronos’ moons reflecting off the fresh snow, it was light enough to see, but the Marjar would bide their time until morning. They had been trying to take control of Kronos for over a year. What was one more night? Sebastian looked out over the undulating, treeless hills of white. The ore-rich mining planet was desolate but hauntingly beautiful.

Perhaps death would be as peaceful.

Sebastian nodded to the guards, their sheathed swords likely chipped and grubby with blood. They would not be granted a reprieve to tend to them tonight.

The king deserved one last night of peace.

The flap of the canvas tent was stiff from the cold but folded back enough to allow Sebastian access. It fell into place behind him, containing what little heat the oil lamps, scattered about the interior, offered. He had been summoned here tonight by the king.

His heart thundered heavily and rapidly in his chest at the reason why.

It all started the day he stepped off a warship at the Neter colony, the heart of the empire, eight years ago. The respect—the mutual admiration. The stern face that had simply cocked one eyebrow upon seeing Sebastian for the first time. Time had unfolded between them from there.

Blood, glory, and conquest; eight years of battles had been fought by his side.

Sebastian was not there to talk.

He stepped forward into the tent and bowed deeply to the man watching him. “Your Majesty, you summoned me.”

“This is the end for us, I fear.” The king shifted in his seat and motioned to the chair across from him. As always, there was kindness in his brilliant green eyes, a kindness that rarely reached the other features of his face. Firm jaw jutted, his lips were drawn tight, his breathing steady.

“Have we no options?” Sebastian settled into the seat across from his king, accepting the cup of wine offered him.

“You know we don’t.” The king rose to his feet, circled around to Sebastian’s side of the table, and laid his hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. “That’s not why you’re here.”

Sebastian placed his hand atop the king’s. “I know.”

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The king leaned down and kissed the side of Sebastian’s neck, his warm breath drifting seductively across Sebastian’s skin. It made its way to his lips.

Sebastian breathed in the king’s words.

“Tonight, I need to know what I’ve denied myself of for so long.”

Sebastian wrapped his hand around the back of the king’s neck, drawing him closer, the king’s long, flowing blond hair cradled within his palm.

“Meshia ….” A simple whisper of desire. The fires of lust and desire that had been burning for years between them would be quenched this night.

And tomorrow, they would die.

The story continues …