Page 128 of A Suitable Stray

“Nikoly,” Arden greeted Nikoly as if only just noticing him and they hadn’t all been standing in silence until Tiiran had arrived. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen our husband.”

By tradition, Arden, Mil, and Mattin were already married in every way that mattered. But, with continued peace at stake, and their union being one of practicality as well as affection, they were to also have a public hand-fasting ceremony with pomp and celebration in the palace and the capital. Nobles still called them all betrothed. Arden and Mil did not.

Mattin blushed over the subject, gazing at his two hulking betrotheds-and-husbands with his eyes fairly glowing.

Nikoly turned to Tiiran, his bottom lip ever so slightly pushed out. Tiiran gave in and began to pet the side of his throat, dipping his fingers almost all the way down to the stylized roses over the bear-paw ivy around his collarbone. To actually touch the marks would involve pushing part of Nikoly’s shirt aside. Tiiran considered it, but Nikoly was already shivering minutely, and when Tiiran glanced up, he noticed Mil watching them. Tiiran settled his hand on Nikoly’s shoulder instead.

“Mattin?” Tiiran asked as though he’d never heard the name before. The assistants at the copying tables were certainly listening in and probably giggling to themselves, although with the size of Arden, Mil, Orin, and all of the guards around them, Tiiran couldn’t see over them to the tables themselves to be sure.

“Yes,” Arden agreed, suspiciously pleasant. “Things have been more chaotic than usual as the wedding festivities draw near, and he might have forgotten that we scheduled time today to…” Arden paused, frowning a little. “What were we supposed to do again? Cael would know.”

“You are supposed to visit the kitchens to see what they will be making and officially give your approval of the menu,” Nikoly informed him, gaze on his knitting once again.

Nikoly minded Tiiran’s schedule, but he did always seem to know things, especially things Cael knew.

“And thank them for the hard work!” Arden exclaimed at the reminder. “Thank you, Nikoly. Truly, you’re a wonder. We need someone like you for Mattin.”

“We do not,” Tiiran said firmly, blushing to realize he and Mil had said it together. Mil, being nearly as bad as his husband when it came to trying to fluster Tiiran, was startled only for a moment before he grinned again.

Tiiran glanced to Orin, who was openly amused despite the fire in his eyes. Nikoly was too, smiling to himself over his knitting because Tiiran was jealous.

More socks. He thought Tiiran and Orin could never have enough socks. But he had learned to dye the yarn the most clever colors.

“Actually,” Tiiran cleared his throat, “I have been considering assigning Mattin an assistant of his own. With his duties here, and his duties with you,” –this was icy. Arden’s gaze grew warmer in response— “he might need a minder here. But Captain Wulfa will have to approve of my choice.”

For Mattin’s security, Tiiran could agree to the Palace Guard investigating an assistant.

Arden wasn’t hiding his delight from the others anymore. “That sounds thoughtful indeed, Master Keeper Tiiran. Mattin’s increased duties have also been on my mind.”

Tiiran met Arden’s stare. “I have perhaps seen Mattin.” He remained a rubbish liar, but the lie didn’t matter. It was the intent behind it, and the responding blaze of feeling in Arden’s eyes, which was different from Orin’s fire. Tiiran didn’t know entirely what it was, but he knew part of it was desperate, constant worry for Mattin. For Mil as well, but especially for Mattin, who was not a warrior, and who was so very soft as Arden and Mil were not.

As Orin had once gently pointed out to Tiiran, Arden was someone who knew exactly where the execution grounds of the palace were. He had also been the one to order that building with its old prison cells taken down, stone by stone. The palace might have other such cells, but if this king used them, it would not be a secret.

“Have you?” Arden leaned slightly closer. “And are you inclined to share that information with me?”

Tiiran didn’t bristle at the implicit order to continue. He caressed Nikoly and then continued. “Icouldtell you where he is.” The faint growl from Mil was intriguing, but Tiiran pressed on. “But I wonder if Mattin needs the break.”

Tiiran had worked on saying that in that manner—indirect, suggestive—instead of his usual tart bluntness. It was still enough of a surprise to hear that Nikoly gave him a concerned look.

“You’re not going to tell us where our husband is?” Some might have said Arden was carefully, quietly angry—and he was—but Tiiran thought he was amused as well.

Mil seemed to grow taller and broader behind him. Tiiran was used to feeling small but it was still impressive. And vexing.

“Are you trying to bully me, Mil Wulfa?” Tiiran demanded sharply, his attempt at imitating Cael’s composure over. “I am concerned for Mattin and it’s only because I know you are as well that I’m speaking to you now. Search the library all you like. You won’t find him on your own until he chooses to be found.” Or until he woke up and stumbled into the light.

Tiiran turned back to Arden, who was deathly serious now, as he should be.

“He needs a rest, even if he won’t say so.” Tiiran would have poked his finger in the king’s face if he could have reached it. “This is a lot for him. Wooings and assassination attempts are one thing, but now planning this fucking wedding too? He wants to please and worries he will not. You have to pay attention to their worries even if you don’t understand them. I’ve learned that and it’s important.” He rubbed his thumb into Nikoly’s smooth skin. “Mattin will do his duty, because he is better than most beat-of-fours, but it’s not his way to be out among those who don’t burn as he does.” People didn’t immediately notice that Mattin burned, but he did, especially when he loved something.

Arden seemed to settle back on his heels, calm again, although he did not actually move except to let out a breath. “Most of the pomp around ‘this fucking wedding’ was Mattin’s idea.”

Arden did mild the way Orin did. He was also probably correct. Mattin put too much weight on histories… or possibly, wanted the peace to continue more than anyone else in the palace.

Of course he did, Tiiran realized. Histories and tradition were all Mattin had to protect his husbands. He couldn’t fight or scheme, but he could use everything he knew to ensure the wedding was a success, the marriage was popular, and the noble houses were appeased. He would, even though it cost him his peace and his time with his books, and he worried that he wouldn’t be enough.

For that, and because he knew Arden and Mil were worried in return, Tiiran nearly relented.

Nearly.

---