Down In Flames

The Springcoming celebrations were held every year at Mathias Park in the center of town. It was the opening of the farm markets that convened throughout the summer. The Cote buzzed with the news of the Prince’s near miss and the new arrival himself.

Ryndhart, though well known as the original seat of Karrathi power, hadn’t had a Tacticus in residence since Karrath became an Empire almost two hundred years ago. Every booth and building had been scrubbed down, aired and painted then scrubbed again. Most of the businesses in the village would be empty as everyone crowed into the park for the festival.

Phee had been having a rough couple of weeks. Preparing for planting season occupied the bulk of his time after school, and there was practicing with Phee and Casea as the tried to nail down their first gig. Cas and Ace, even as they prepared to spend the summer without him, bugged him unmercifully for music and lyrics. They wanted new stuff that would catapult whoever they got to replace him for the summer into Ida’s music lime light.

It was true that no one appreciated them here. Casea had been exposed to a lot of different styles of music as her father had been an ambassador to several countries before being voted in as governor of the Home Farms. She brought that knowledge to the group in the form of feed records from across the empire and abroad. Casea exposed Phee to many different sorts of music thought her eclectic collection. He adored it all, the popular music of Ida, the strange rhythms and beats from the Southern Island States that invoked heat and freedom, the structured complex symphonic style of classical Rhadev music. He’d even been playing with the aharmonics of goblin songs from the OldMound. His parents had exposed him to some of it but Casea had really widened his tastes.

His bandmates’ excitement, thinly veiled by a layer of regret that he wouldn’t be there with them, was infectious. So Phee wrote and smiled while Casea talked about all the people they would meet once they got to Ida and got their first gig. She was sure that once they had a venue, the right patron and promoter to get them into the right clubs, the three of them would be successful musicians in no time and would be dining in court with the Imperial family regularly. This was pie in the sky talk of course. Court was far beyond the touch of a little band from the sticks.

Class was awful. Everyone had been wildly preparing for this years’ Springcoming but all anyone could talk about was the damned prince: Literature - Histories of the Royal Family; Agriculture - Royal Contributions to the Art of Farming; Mathematics - Imperial Scientists and Mathematicians of the Last Century. Phee couldn’t get away from the damned prince. Even in the small cafeteria, talk was of the prince and how cute he was or how awesome his tank was. Or how strange it was that whoever had saved him had not come up to reap the reward. Had he really been in an accident? What did that person have to hide?

Phee’s world was abuzz with talk. Shy as he was, he couldn’t imagine such speculation aimed in his direction. His father had been right to suggest not showing up at the palace, they’d ignored the proclamation even though Phee’d thought it would be nice to see Liam again, not drenched and in pain.

Farmer Fallon had come home with one of the many handbills strewn across the village. The farmer had been quite shocked to see that the prince had been in an accident so near to their homestead. Fallon Orchard’s northern border ran right up against the forest that lined the Deone. He’d made a comment to Phee about the strength of the storm and immediately sensed Phee’s guilt.

Phee’d wanted to deny any involvement with the whole mess. The alarm and surprise in his father’s face had him wishing he’d just stayed at home that night.

“Please tell me this wasn’t you, Phoenix.” His father settled on anger as the appropriate emotion. Not waiting for an admission or denial, he continued.

“Son, you exposed yourself to the Goddess-damned crown prince! This is about as far away from inconspicuous as you can get!” The rant went on for a while then finally, vitriol spewed, his father sighed and handed Phee the sheet of parchment.

“Rescuing the prince was a very noble deed, Phee. You’re probably the only one who could have saved him.” His father sat in the old kitchen chair that had been Grandpi Fallon’s. “I just want you to understand that every time you use your abilities you put yourself in danger. Even if it doesn’t seem immediately obvious.” His father’s eyes were full of concern.

“I know, Dad. I couldn’t just stand by and let him die.”

Arcturus smiled and patted Phee on the head.

“You’re a good boy, Phee. Just… be careful. Aye?”

“Aye.” Phee answered as Arcturus watched the hearth fire in silence. Phee knew his father was right and he was already suffering for it. The dreams had started exactly twenty four hours after pulling the prince out of the water. Those graphic, gratuitous, completely unwanted, nocturnal sexual escapades starred none other than the prince himself.

Phee dreamed in such graphic detail that he was pretty sure he could trace out every cranny and dent - every lickable, delectable space on and in the Prince’s body. They were so graphic that Phee would wake panting and hard. Sweat damped his skin and his legs would be tangled in the sheets of the small bed he’d been sleeping in since his childhood. Some nights Liam’s purring voice would echo in Phee’s ears, keeping Phee aroused and irritable hours after waking.

Already well established his class’s resident idiot, these new dreams had him staring off into space even more than usual. It was only his size and strength that kept him from being the butt of jokes and now increasingly even that wasn’t enough to stop the teasing.

Phee sighed and put his head down on his desk. He believed his life to be hard before? Now, without sleep, things were getting really impossible. He made foolish blunders, tripped over his own feet he even had to use his abilities to get himself into his father's truck after locking the keys in.

Phee had no idea how to stop the dreams. He assumed it was his mind’s way of expunging the memories he’d gained from Liam. Like a virus, his mind was fighting them by running them out against the back drop of his subconscious. However, instead of fading they intensified.

Proximity to the prince made them worse. The crates of fruit preserves, dried and fresh fruit and vegetables were delivered to Ryndhart Castle from area farms including Fallon Orchards. The crates of food wouldn’t deliver themselves. Phee’s dad had taken over the castle deliveries after finding out about his rescue.



Some days, however, Cote business took his father away from the weekly rounds. As one of the Cote’s foremost citizens Phee’s father attending votes and decided where tax money would go to assist the town. On delivery days that his father was away, Phee would make his way to the castle dreading every second of his time there. His friends thought he was so cool to be able to visit the castle when ever he needed too. Phee just wanted to be able to get in and get out without incident.



Phee had been to the castle about a dozen times since the rescue. He had even been in the same room as the prince. He had bowed low like the rest of the staff when the prince walked by with the shiny robot that was his personal bodyguard. The prince hadn’t noticed him. This was both gratifying and lowering. Phee was convinced nothing would happen as long as he kept his head down. But it did sting that he was the only one suffering after their encounter.



Finally school let out for the day. The large complex housed about thirteen hundred students of all ages from the five surrounding districts. He’d been going to the school since he was about knee high to his father. This was their last year. Not having MidFarms Country Day School in his life made him nervous. His mother wanted him to apply to a couple of the agriculture schools in the region but Phee didn't know if he wanted to pursue anything other than his music.



Phee was alright with following in his adoptive father’s footsteps. At least it would be a good fallback if his music never took off. Phee moved forward as the crowd of exiting students streamed through the school's double doors.



Ace called to him from downstream, waving Phee over. As Phee moved through the crowd towards his friend something unfamiliar prickled the edge of Phee’s conscious. It felt like eyes on the back of his head, somewhere above him. Phee stopped short trying to capture the feel of it and was immediately run into and roundly cursed. Embarrassed Phee tried to extricate himself from the pile, instead he slipped and ended up on his ass. The roar of laughter behind him signaled that his humiliation was complete.



“Goodness Phoenix are you alright?” Phee looked up into the sympathetic face of Bria Hawxwell. The Hawxwell farm ran next to Fallon’s, and Bria was Farmer Hawxwells second daughter. She was so pretty! Pretty brown eyes pretty tawny hair kept out of her face by a gingham head tie. She had pink cheeks and a feminine shape, always primly hidden away by loose farm dresses. Phee had had a crush on Bria Hawxwell pretty much from the moment he could tell the difference between boys and girls. Unfortunately Bria didn’t particularly have a crush on him. Too shy to do anything about it, Phee had simply decided to stay the hell out of her way.



Phee got to his feet, taking her hand then releasing it like it was a hot coal. She smiled and asked him again if he was okay. Phee mumbled something then turned to join Ace.



“Stop laughing. You’re going to blow out a lung.” Phee snapped. Ace howled and followed along clutching his stomach.



“Great friends.” Phee muttered as he opened to door to his father’s old beat up SmAArTfuel truck.



Phee had use of the truck tonight for deliveries as his father would be out at another town council meeting. He dropped Ace at the Exeter Dairy Farm a few miles down the road.



“Deliveries in a couple of hours? Wanna do them together?”



Ace nodded. “We’ll have the stuff ready by dusk.”



***



The Fallons and the Exeters has been family friends for generations, Phee and Ace’s fathers were close so it was pretty much understood that the children would be friends too. Phee’d know Ace for as long as he’d lived in the Cote. They’d swum in the same streams and climbed the same trees for years. Ace usually ran the show and Phee was happy to let him. Ace’s talkative streak had gotten them into and out of more trouble on more occasions that Phee could count.



Phee left the castle until last. The Ryndhart Castle stop always took more than the usual amount of time out of all of his deliveries. Phee sighed as the sky had darkened from when he’d started his chores a few hours ago. He dropped Ace off at the Dairy farm.



“You sure you can handle this last one by yourself?” Ace asked even as he yawned and scratched his chin.



“Yah I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”



Ace nodded and hopped out of the truck.



Phee drove his father’s truck around to the back of Ryndhart Castle and looked up at the huge slabs of rare ivory stone that made up Ryndhart Castle. He took a moment to marvel at the sheer size of the building before starting to off load the crates of preserves.



Ryndhart had been built long before the Karrathi allied with the goblin nations.

People had built this, people had pulled and pushed every stone and slab into place. Six multi-storied towers stood above the river and the forest beyond. The maids said you could see for miles in any direction as Ryndhart sat on a hill that was the highest point in the Midfarms region.



Phee slid the cases of preserves, dried fruit and meat onto the table counting out the stock and storing them in their proper place. Marianna the head cook wouldn’t hesitate to tell Phee’s mother all about the mess Phee left in the pantry if he just dumped the preserves there. As he finished one of the maids entered with a tray of dishes. Tannah, one of the upstairs maids and an older school mate of his, grinned at him.



“Aye Phee!” She greeted him as she placed the dishes into the sink and carefully began to wash the delicate china.



“Aye Tannah! How are ya?”



“Well.” She responded politely.



“Aristos still behaving naughtily?”



It was Tannah who had told him about Liam’s drunken escapades. The prince was incredibly popular. There had been coaches or sleek goblin built cars parked in front of the castle since the prince opened it. Only aristos felt the need to affix incomprehensible symbols to everything they owned. According to Tannah who lived in the Castle now, they came in glittering gowns and posh black suits, in traditional Karrathi dress, their heads held high and looking around in disdain at the country setting or in some cases stained, ripped and weaving, stink with drink. Those that went in sober and pristine came out drunk and mussed and some times not at all. Most of the ones that did not come out were female, some of them barely older than Phee. Some of them already wed and all of them stunningly beautiful. Tannah found it hysterical how many women had to sneak out of the castle in the mornings. The staff had gotten very good at staying out the way of exiting aristocratic women with guilty looks on their faces.



As Tannah washed, she told him all about today’s visitor, a strange woman with dark skin and hair. Tannah labeled her an outsider and really didn’t want to have anything to do with her but Phee was curious. She was probably an Eastlander. Phee’d learned about Eastlanders in his World History classes. Eastlanders were very powerful and very mysterious. Phee wanted to see her badly but it was much too dangerous with the prince lurking around to venture upstairs even with Tannah in the lead.



Lifting crates with a single hand, that should rightfully take two strong men to move he finished packing away the fresh jars and put away the empty ones. He said goodbye to Tannah and went to the main kitchens to put away the fruit that had been sent along with the jars of preserves. He hummed along to the music that wafted down from the floors above.



Greyfalkon, Phee thought. Liam's taste was impressive. He loved the song, 'Trees' knew every word. In fact Casea, Ace and he’d planned to sing it as a cover. The song's driving passion spoke to Phee, moved him. The lead singer Grey’s voice held so much pain and need. Phee felt himself sinking into the lyrics, working methodically he opened his mouth and sang.



***



Liam watched Skype leave the castle, she hopped twice and seemed to fling herself into the air then was gone. The witch had delivered some disturbing news. The one he’d been seeking would probably be better left alone. Skype had called the creature “dangerous”. And that the boy didn’t know what he was. Hell even Skype had had trouble finding him when had, she didn’t know quite what he was. Skype’ had said simply that everyone would be better off leaving this alone. Liam couldn’t let it go. The prince was completely wrung out. Unable to get a foot hold in his new life. Liam was quite literally having a mad passionate affair with someone. They spent the night fucked each other senseless then he disappeared before morning. Liam hated it. He felt cheap and used. It also infuriated him to think that he was the only one suffering.



Skype promised to fine more but the news disturbed him. Her next statements had disturbed him more. Skype said plainly that he had already met his rescuer and overlooked him. Liam couldn’t believe that he didn’t recognize the eyes and the hair or the voice that had woken him up from sleep night after night. He had no clearer description from the witch than what he already knew; dark hair, dark eyes and pretty voice that calmed his fears and spoke right to his groin. She’d fed him some witchy stupidness about his quarry burning too brightly on the ecliptic plane for her to fix on his face. She’d then gone on about how the search was turning into an unhealthy obsession.



Liam had to consider the truth of that statement. Skype had never led him or his father wrong.  Perhaps the smartest course of action would be to let the thing go. Except Skype hadn’t been trying night after night to banish dreams that punished the body and soul, and dived into the pornographic with frustrating regularity.



Not even the real thing satisfied any more. He’s fucked his way though half the aristocracy, emptied himself, body and mind and still couldn’t sleep! Frustrated Liam brought his fist down on the console in front of him. The feed switched on blaring Greyfalkon throughout his suite. The singers purring throaty vocals eased some of his agitation. Liam sighed. It was time to get royally drunk. Grabbing a bottle off the mantle he walked out of his suite to find something to eat.



Bottle of Thunderbooth’s clutched like a lover under one arm, Liam wandered down to the kitchens to find some more of that stellar fruit preserve he’d been served that morning. He hated bugging the maids and usually stayed in his own apartments rather than in the castle or any of the imperial houses when in Ida. He’d learned to feed and clothed himself in the past few years. His independence had been hard won; Liam heaped another curse on his father’s head for taking his freedom away from him.



The royalties he received from his inventions only went so far. Liam knew quite well he couldn’t live on his own, he was a prince, damnit. Princes didn’t live hand to mouth. Taking a swig of booze he steeled himself to face down Marianne’s disapproving gaze and entered the kitchens with a purpose. Liam found the place empty except for a thread of gorgeous music coming from the pantry. The voice was rough, untrained but at least as deep and resonant as Grey’s. Liam listened a while.  



The song ached and beat along the senses with its story of love and obsession. The singer was doing an exquisite job. The singer laced the words with hunger making the song even more haunting. Liam struggled for a moment with whether or not to disturb the singer. No one sang like that in public even consummate performers would hold back a little. The singer held nothing back. This was a person that felt the world deeply and didn’t give a fuck who knew it.



Liam turned the corner and stopped short, faced with the most magnificent creature he’d seen in a long time. The goddess hated him. That could be the only explanation. Herself must really, really hate him. Liam tried to catch his breath but his body only wound tighter at the sight. The boy was strapping, huge actually, hoisting crate after crate of full glass bottles like they weighed nothing. The crates were marked Fallon Orchards and as he deposited them into the cooler he bent over them digging around. The loose trews slide down to just over the trim hips. The skin was a lovely tan that spoke of summers outside and hard work. The clothing marked the boy as a peasant; someone not to to be taken advantage of.



The white tunic left the boy;'s muscled arms bare and gaped open from just under the armpits. The cloth would shift showing off the trim waist all the way up to his pectorals, a hard stomach banded with muscle. Who the hell created a garment like that?! It was basically two strips of cloth tied together with a hole in the middle. It hid nothing!



The loose faded trews sat low on his hips. They obviously belonged to a larger man. They were patched and slid down low enough to display the start of a butt that made Liam’s mouth water. Liam struggled for control; a struggle he was losing from lack of sleep and frustration. Fallon… Fallon... Where had he heard that name? Farmer Fallon’s child. He remembered now from the list of vendors that served Ryndhart. Just a little slow but a good solid sort. That had been the boy’s description.



The description should have mentioned that the boy was at least two stone of solid grain fed beefsteak, with sable curls and voice that could temp a priest into sin. Liam squeezed his eyes shut to purge the lustful thoughts from his mind. He placed the bottle of Thunderbooths on the table, his plan to simply get the jam and get out, hopefully without jumping on that body like an animal and rutting himself silly between his thighs. He didn’t want to explain semen splatters to Marianne. He had not doubt that she would fillet him like a fish, royalty or not.



The singing stopped.



“Tannah?”



Liam said nothing.



“My mom sent you a jar of the special stuff. She refuses to sell the reserve to people who’d turn up their noses at it.”



The delivery boy hadn’t turned from his task and Liam could only smirk. It was true that most aristocrats didn’t respect anything that didn’t glitter or shine. It did sting a little that he’d been lumped together with the average aristo by the community already.



The delivery boy dropped a gold cloth wrapped and sealed jar onto the table without looking up from what he was doing.  Instead of backing out of the pantry liked he’d planned, Liam leaned forward and took the jar.



This jar was different than the other bottle of preserves he was looking for although they were stamped with the same seal. He opened it and the scent of perfectly ripened blood oranges assailed his senses.



“Sweet Goddess Rising! I sincerely doubt anyone with a sense of smell would turn up their noses at this!”



The words were out of Liam’s mouth before he could pull them back.



Startled the farmer’s boy dropped the lid of the cooler and spun on his heels.



Liam looked up and had to carefully put the jar on the table lest he drop it.



Shock drained the strength from his hands.



The mouth was full with a sculpted bottom lip made for sin and was so achingly immediately familiar. The aquiline nose and dimpled left cheek added to that sense of intimate knowledge. Then there were his eyes. Ringed by a ruff of coal dark lashes they were a caramel brown, like clover honey, irresistible to anyone with a sweet tooth. He took a step closer then another. The eyes were a surprise. They were always shadowed during his dreams. They were always hidden like the first time they’d kissed after his life had been saved. That mouth was the same though; full with a plush bottom lip. Liam cock twitched as his tired brain flashed back to a particularly vivid dream that had his cock pressed against this same mouth, lips eagerly parted, lips which were now moving.



Reluctantly Liam tuned back in.



“… Mean it the way it sounded yer g…grace. Please.” The farmer’s boy went to his knees. “Please forgive my incredible rudeness.” Liam’s poor tormented body reacted, cock springing to life at the mere thought of that mouth at crotch level, a mouth that had been pleasuring the prince for the past few weeks. The mouth Liam had already come to think of as his.



Liam stopped that thought. His dreams had nothing to do with the flesh and blood reality kneeling before him. This person wasn’t the partner that enslaved his sleeping mind every night. Skype herself had said that his rescuer didn’t know anything about what was going on in Liam’s head. Liam fought to control himself.



If this was his rescuer, he owed the boy a debt of gratitude. He certainly didn’t need to ruin the boy’s life by forcing unwanted attention on someone that probably had no use for royalty any way.



Liam pasted an easy smile on his face attempting jovial normalcy all the while he wanted to simply order the delivery boy to admit who he was. Skype’s warnings rang in his ears. The boy didn’t know what he could do and Skype thought him dangerous. If he wasn’t the right boy he would have terrorized a perfectly harmless and incredibly attractive peasant for no reason.



“It’s alright Mr. Fallon, between you and I, that’s a fair assessment of most aristos.”



Phee blushed licking his bottom lip nervously. Liam promptly lost a few IQ points as the blood rushed from his brain.



“Please don’t let me distract you.” Phee rose. Coming to his full height about a head taller than Liam.



“I’m finished your Majesty. Please excuse me?” Phee tried to bolt but the prince put his hand on Phee’s arm, their eyes met.

 

Liam’s eyes were the bluest Phee had ever seen. The color burned, electric. Phee’s heart contracted, Liam was so intense. So serious, Phee felt branded by the gaze and the fingers on his arm.



“May I try it?” Liam asked stepping close enough to count the bronzed freckles dusting Phee’s nose.



The low-pitched purr spoke directly to Phee’s groin with an intimacy that had Phee reeling. It was a scene right out of one of his dreams. Phee blinked and blanched trying to control his thumping heart. When he got worked up things happened. He couldn’t afford to lose it in front of the crown.



“Your majesty, everything under this roof belongs to you.” Phee responded gently, not daring to move lest it seem like he didn’t want the prince close to him. He’d already insulted the Aristocracy, it just wouldn’t do to add more rudeness. Liam could destroy his family without a thought.



“Including you?”

“Huh?”

“Never mind… Mr. Fallon is it?”



Phee nodded.



“If I simply took it, what good would that do me?” Liam asked leaning forward into Phee’s space.



“Well Sire,” Phee lingered unsure whether to move back or stay in unsettled proximity. “You’d have what you wanted.”



“Would I? Would it taste as good the next time?” The prince leaned in. Phee’s breath quickened. He realized that he had to get out of there or things would go badly. His control was slipping. Phee could feel himself losing his already battered grip on his power.



Phee had to back away until he hit the refrigerator. The prince didn’t follow.



“If I simply took this, I can guarantee you the next jar wouldn’t taste as sweet.” Liam took another smell then smiled.



“You can taste it Sire.” What a quirky little man! Phee thought to himself as he clutched the edge of the counter. What a bizzare, quirky, dead sexy, princely little man!



“Thank you.” Liam pulled the cover off again and turned away to where the biscuits were stored. He put some on a plate and ladled some of the preserve.



“Why sir?” Phee blurted out, his curiosity getting the better of him.



“Why what?” Liam asked facing Phee again. A bit of the pungent jam ending up on Liam’s fingers. Without thinking much of it, Liam licked the orangey stuff off his hand, marveling at how refreshing the flavor was.



Phee watched fascinated at the amount of pleasure the Prince took in even a very little thing like a spot of jam. It didn’t help that the prince licked his fingers just like this in the dreams every night. Just usually his fingers were covered with a different substance. That thought set Phee’s heart to racing he was dismayed to feel his fingers sink into the lid of the cooler as though he ‘d been squeezing a brick of butter rather than a sheet of metal.



“Sire, why would it taste better because you asked me to have it?” Phee asked trying to distract the prince and himself. “I don’t understand. It’s just a bit of burnt sugar and mashed fruit."



“Not at all Mr. Fallon. You can practically taste the love in it.”



Ignoring the spoon, Liam dipped his finger into the jar and popped his finger in his mouth. Standing this close the strapping delivery boy, Liam could tell just what kind of effect he was having. It was intoxicating to put on this little display of power over his nightly tormentor, even if Phee was innocent of the actual torment.



Liam concentrated on the flavors. It really was a superior jam.



“She makes sure all of the sugar is caramelized. The fruit is completely smooth. No pulp or pith that I can see or taste. It's perfect” Liam’s eyes met Phee’s.



Phee wondered how the simple act of Liam putting his finger in his mouth could be so damn erotic.



“Perfect.” The prince continued to lick at  another gob of orange jam.



“You like Greyfalkon?”



The question required Phee to shift gears. Battered as his control was it to took the the farmer several moments.



“Yes your majesty they write gorgeous lyrics. Grey also has a fantastic voice.” Phee looked embarrassed even as he tried to hide the broken fridge lid. The prince continued to dip biscuits into the jam and eat them.



“Sire … Perhaps you would be more comfortable in your chambers?” Phee muttered trying to remind everyone in the room about the proprieties and that princes didn’t talk to delivery boys as a rule. That way he could leave the mansion without giving offense to the prince. Lower servants were not allowed in the upper rooms and salons unless they were cleaning it and under the supervision of an upper servant.



“Don’t change the subject.” Liam scooped up the jar and covered it then tucked it under his arm. He looked at the plate of freshly baked biscuits then at Phee. It took Phee another few moments to figure out what Liam wanted.  Phee stifled a sigh, he blamed the lack of blood in his brain directly on the prince. Phee held the plate carefully. It was of almost translucent china stamped with an imperial seal. The plate was probably worth more than everything Phee owned. He felt like a giant following Liam’s graceful form up the stairs and through the empty serving kitchens, then into the upper salons where royalty entertained. They only received a very few interested looks. Every thing was so fine and shiny. Phee felt particularly grubby, hulking and unwieldy.



“…Greyfalkon?” Phee scrabbled to replay the last few seconds where he hadn’t been paying attention to anything but holding onto the plate and not putting his dirty shoes on anything uncleanable. Phee’s face must have registered some of his confusion.

“I was just asking which songs you liked.”



“Oh pretty much anything in his later period, once he hooked up with Amalien. They write beautiful music together, your highness.” Phee said politely, as they walked the music got louder.



“People say they're lovers." Liam murmured sharing this bit of gossip.



"It wouldn't surprise me your majesty. The lyrics are so intense..." Phee said suprised that the prince would know so much about a band that appealed very much to the common people. Liam was surprised at the matter of fact acceptance of his idol having a man as a lover but then again this was the Home Farms. They likely though excess of that kind was for city folk.

"You’ve got a phenomenal voice. At least as good as Grey’s.” Phee blushed and stammered a thank you not knowing what to say to that. Telling the prince about his band might seem like bragging and lengthening their little tete a tete seemed like a bad idea. Phee just turned redder as they turned into the prince’s sitting room.

Liam lowered the sound on the feed receiver then moved to take the biscuits from Phee.



Flustered and embarrassed and more than little thrown by Liam’s interest, Phee released the plate before the prince had a good grip on it. The plate slipped hitting the floor with a crack. Phee groaned going to his knees and quickly gathered up the pieces.

He could cry.

Perhaps if he prayed hard the goddess would send a demon to devour him before he died of shame.



Phee kept his head down expecting to be laughed at or humiliated for his clumsiness. The feeds were full of stories just like this, where an aristo took it to the commoners who had crossed him for the sheer pleasure of torturing someone weaker. Phee looked up expecting to be subject to the prince’s mockery but instead found the prince crouched and picking up the biscuits and china with careful fingers.



Liam’s eyes were so warm and concerned. They were so close that what happened next was inevitable.



“I’m sorry Sire, I’…” Was all Phee managed to get out before the Prince of Karrath leaned forward and brushed Phee's mouth with his own.



The soft kiss took Phee by complete surprise. He never imagined in his life time to be kissed by such a person. Everything but the prince's subtle taste flew right out of Phee's head. Liam took Phee’s surprised stillness as an invitation to continue. The farmer’s lips were soft and enticing; much too much of a temptation for a sleep deprived, frustrated Liam to resist. Phee’s skin was pliant and slightly salty with a hint of mint. Their warmth and the rightness of the kiss stole his breath. Phee moaned then leaned into Liam’s kiss, lips parted.



Delighted Liam slipped his tongue past Phee’s defenseless mouth for a deeper taste.



The fresh tasted of blood oranges brought Phee back to himself. The sharp clean taste of his mother’s preserves had never been a feature in any of the wild dreams that plagued him since the rescue.

This was real.

The danger to his parents was real. It would destroy them to see him as some rich man’s whore.



There were also stories in the feeds of people who fought to enter the aristocracy on their backs. All of the stories ended the same, with humiliation and ruin for all involved.



As a man things were worse. Sexual deviance of this sort wasn’t tolerated at all. He had no idea what would happen if his father found out. People disappeared all the time in the Home Farms for doing things like this.

Phee jerked back onto his heels, a hand out to stop the prince from crawling through biscuits and broken stoneware to continue the kiss.



“Prince Liam!” Phee’s tone stopped Liam cold. The hint of censure in his voice reminded Liam of where he was.



Liam knew what these little towns were like. Everyone knew everyone else's tattle. He couldn’t push Phee to his knees and take advantage of the servant without everyone knowing.



The boy was his somnolent visitor alright, in face and form but he was still just a boy, all guile-less long lashes and innocent confusion. Liam felt like a molester.



Phee stood, near tears.



“I’ll send up a maid to clean the rest you’re highness.” Phee gripped what he could and backed out of the room.



“Wait Mr. Fallon, I…” But Phee had already gone.