Page 90 of The Lost Art of Finding Where You Belong

“That’s very sensible,” Perian agreed.

“I can send Cormal next time,” Brannal told him. “We usually take turns.”

Perian smiled against the other man’s chest and pressed a kiss to it.

“If you don’t think he’d mind.”

Brannal snorted. “Oh, I’ll hear all about it, I’m sure, but one of us has to go, and I don’t see why it shouldn’t be him. Besides, that means I’ll get the winter inspection, and he always complains about the cold, so I’m sure it will work out. Molun and Onadal and his second-in-command go too, and that should be easier.”

And that gave Perian months to figure out how to convince Brannal he would be very happy to serve as a bed warmer on that particular inspection. That was a role youcould be assigned, right? Chief warmer of the Summus’s bed? If he had enough time, Perian was sure he could sell that to the Queen. He would work on his pitch.

Just knowing that Brannal was thinking months ahead made Perian happy.

A few days later, Perian found his trunk in Brannal’s rooms when he returned with the blankets after lunch. He’d actually forgotten he’d sent for it from his estate, and he was so glad Nisal had remembered to send off his letter.

It would definitely be handy to have a few more shirts and other clothes. Perian much preferred that they could have sex with abandon and not need to ponder if he was about to dirty his last shirt or pair of trousers.

A letter from his steward and his housekeeper assured him that everything was fine both in the house and on the estate, which was just what he wanted to hear. He hadn’t expected problems, but it was good to have confirmation. He was always relieved that the estate was modest and well-managed.

Everything had been neatly packed, and Perian pulled it all out, lips tipping up because Cook had made sure to bundle in a tin of his shortbread cookies. Perian preferred to be here with Brannal, but he did miss home sometimes, too.

He might have paused to eat a shortbread or two, and his belongings were still in disarray around him when the door slammed open. Perian clapped a hand to his heart.

“What are you doing?” Brannal demanded.

“You startled me,” Perian scolded. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Brannal’s voice was tight. “Packing.”

Perian looked around and snorted. “Oh, true. But I’m doing the reverse.”

“What?”

The word was snapped and Perian looked properly at the man. He was… stressed? Angry? Why was he looking atPerianlike that?

He jumped to his feet.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Brannal was still tense and staring at Perian with an expression he couldn’t figure out.

“Whatreverse?” Brannal demanded.

Having already gotten distracted, it took Perian a moment to trace back through the conversation.

“Oh! I’m unpacking. I—”

He cut off abruptly as he realized Brannal had come bursting in here, totally panicking, because it looked like Perian had beenpacking.

He flung his arms around the man.

“Oh, the rumor mill in this place. I don’t know who saw the trunk come, but you’d think they might have noticed it came from outside the castle. After losing two shirts in a short space of time to accident or injury, I thought it might not be a bad idea to write and have some more of my things delivered. I wouldn’teverleave without telling you, Brannal, I swear.”

The man’s arms came to wrap tight around him, Brannal’s breath rushing past Perian’s ear in a harsh pant.

“Sorry. I—Sorry.”

Perian tightened his grip. “No, don’t apologize. I swear to all the elements, ifyoudecided to move out without saying anything, I’d send MolunandCormal after you.”

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