chewing over the meaning of that statement when a woman arrived to lead them away.
****
Chapter Ten
Berhanu and Volos were taken to chambers fit for a prince. The main room was large and generously furnished. An elevated platform held an enormous bed, covered by an opulent bedspread and piled with pillows. In a smaller attached room, a spacious window provided a fine view of the city from the carved wooden table placed in front of it, which was set with gold cutlery and gilded plates. A small feast awaited them under covered dishes. But the accommodation that excited them both was the washroom with a huge porcelain tub filled with steaming, scented water. The room also included a pile of thick towels, a painted washbasin, a mirror with an ornate frame, two sets of toiletries, and a rack hung with several sets of clothing.
“I suspect the queen thinks we’re filthy,” Berhanu said with a small grin. “And she’s right. What do you think— eat first or bathe?”
“I… uh…”
“Bathe, I think. Better a cold dinner than cold bath water.” Berhanu sat on a marble bench to remove his boots. Then, while Volos stood like a complete fool, the prince stripped completely and climbed into the tub. He uttered a deep sigh and submerged to his neck. “Heaven.”
Volos was carefully averting his eyes, as if he hadn’t already seen Berhanu naked many times. As if he hadn’t felt him, deep inside, just the night before.
Berhanu made an exasperated little noise. “Get in the tub, Volos.”
“But you’re—”
“It’s big enough for us both. No point in you having to endure cold, second-hand water.”
Volos hung his sword on a hook and quickly undressed. He felt acutely self-conscious as he crossed the room, but Berhanu didn’t say anything as he climbed into the tub. They faced each other in silence. The deep water was soft with scented oil; it felt wonderful.
After lifting a large cake of soap from a basket, Berhanu gestured imperiously. “Turn around. I’ll wash your back.”
Were all princes so inscrutable? Volos turned around, sloshing some of the water onto the tile floor in the process. He tried not to swoon like a lovesick maiden when Berhanu set one slick hand on his shoulder and used the other to smooth the soap over his spine. Volos had never been bathed before— well, not since he was a child. In the quiet of the washroom, with the only sounds being their breaths and the small splashes of water, the act was strangely intimate. More intimate, in fact, than most of the fucks he’d had at the Thieving Goose. And Berhanu was taking his time over it, moving the soap in small, slow circles.
“There’s no tub in the barracks, is there?” asked Berhanu.
“No.”
“Then how do you stay clean? When you spar, you never—” He stopped suddenly, then cleared his throat.
“We make do with wash bowls. When my purse is feeling especially full I might go to the baths.”
“I have a private washroom. I’ve never been to the public baths.” Did Berhanu sound slightly wistful?
“They’re not nearly as nice as this. At least, not the one I go to. It’s near the Goose.”
“I’ve never been there either.”
Volos twisted his head around to look at him. “Really?”
“I’m a fucking prince , Volos. Do you think I’d be allowed in a place like that without an entire company of guards?” He sighed. “My social life happens at official dinners where I have to pretend to be fascinated with the Duke of Dumbshit or the Baroness of Boredom. And when I want to get a leg over, there’s a list of whores who are approved for royal use. They’re all very clean and pretty and proper.”
That was an aspect of Berhanu’s life that had never occurred to Volos. Berhanu trained with the guards and, to the extent Volos had thought about it at all, he assumed he played like the guards as well. He opened his mouth to say something— an apology, maybe?— but Berhanu snorted at him. “Tilt your head back.
****
Chapter Ten
Berhanu and Volos were taken to chambers fit for a prince. The main room was large and generously furnished. An elevated platform held an enormous bed, covered by an opulent bedspread and piled with pillows. In a smaller attached room, a spacious window provided a fine view of the city from the carved wooden table placed in front of it, which was set with gold cutlery and gilded plates. A small feast awaited them under covered dishes. But the accommodation that excited them both was the washroom with a huge porcelain tub filled with steaming, scented water. The room also included a pile of thick towels, a painted washbasin, a mirror with an ornate frame, two sets of toiletries, and a rack hung with several sets of clothing.
“I suspect the queen thinks we’re filthy,” Berhanu said with a small grin. “And she’s right. What do you think— eat first or bathe?”
“I… uh…”
“Bathe, I think. Better a cold dinner than cold bath water.” Berhanu sat on a marble bench to remove his boots. Then, while Volos stood like a complete fool, the prince stripped completely and climbed into the tub. He uttered a deep sigh and submerged to his neck. “Heaven.”
Volos was carefully averting his eyes, as if he hadn’t already seen Berhanu naked many times. As if he hadn’t felt him, deep inside, just the night before.
Berhanu made an exasperated little noise. “Get in the tub, Volos.”
“But you’re—”
“It’s big enough for us both. No point in you having to endure cold, second-hand water.”
Volos hung his sword on a hook and quickly undressed. He felt acutely self-conscious as he crossed the room, but Berhanu didn’t say anything as he climbed into the tub. They faced each other in silence. The deep water was soft with scented oil; it felt wonderful.
After lifting a large cake of soap from a basket, Berhanu gestured imperiously. “Turn around. I’ll wash your back.”
Were all princes so inscrutable? Volos turned around, sloshing some of the water onto the tile floor in the process. He tried not to swoon like a lovesick maiden when Berhanu set one slick hand on his shoulder and used the other to smooth the soap over his spine. Volos had never been bathed before— well, not since he was a child. In the quiet of the washroom, with the only sounds being their breaths and the small splashes of water, the act was strangely intimate. More intimate, in fact, than most of the fucks he’d had at the Thieving Goose. And Berhanu was taking his time over it, moving the soap in small, slow circles.
“There’s no tub in the barracks, is there?” asked Berhanu.
“No.”
“Then how do you stay clean? When you spar, you never—” He stopped suddenly, then cleared his throat.
“We make do with wash bowls. When my purse is feeling especially full I might go to the baths.”
“I have a private washroom. I’ve never been to the public baths.” Did Berhanu sound slightly wistful?
“They’re not nearly as nice as this. At least, not the one I go to. It’s near the Goose.”
“I’ve never been there either.”
Volos twisted his head around to look at him. “Really?”
“I’m a fucking prince , Volos. Do you think I’d be allowed in a place like that without an entire company of guards?” He sighed. “My social life happens at official dinners where I have to pretend to be fascinated with the Duke of Dumbshit or the Baroness of Boredom. And when I want to get a leg over, there’s a list of whores who are approved for royal use. They’re all very clean and pretty and proper.”
That was an aspect of Berhanu’s life that had never occurred to Volos. Berhanu trained with the guards and, to the extent Volos had thought about it at all, he assumed he played like the guards as well. He opened his mouth to say something— an apology, maybe?— but Berhanu snorted at him. “Tilt your head back.
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