The Prince’s Boy: 58

(Continuing the weekly serial by Cecilia Tan! Need to start at the beginning? Click here.)
58: Jorin

(Warning: this is a particularly brutal chapter.)

The King and Sergetten left me chained to the foot of the bed when the time for afternoon audiences arrived, and for the first time since Sergetten had explained his reason behind collaring me I felt once again like a lowly pet. I curled up and pretended to sleep, like a dog would. The hood covered my eyes in any case, so they could not tell if my eyes were open or closed. Through the door to the outer chamber, I could hear them speaking to each other as Sergetten helped him to dress.

Their voices were light and they spoke familiarly with one another, and I wondered how long they had known each other. Had Sergetten been apprenticed or fostered in the castle as a youth? At the keep where he was called lord there was no indication of a family, though, no parents or siblings, no paintings or tapestries depicting his line.

My heart ached a little to hear their jaunty camaraderie, both because I knew that was a side that neither man would ever show outside these private circumstances and how wearing that must be, and, in truth, because being here in the castle I was so very much reminded of myself and Kenet. Of how we had once been.

Read the rest of this entry »

Mirrored from Circlet Press: Welcome to Circlet 2.0.

The Prince’s Boy: 58

(Continuing the weekly serial by Cecilia Tan! Need to start at the beginning? Click here.)
58: Jorin

(Warning: this is a particularly brutal chapter.)

The King and Sergetten left me chained to the foot of the bed when the time for afternoon audiences arrived, and for the first time since Sergetten had explained his reason behind collaring me I felt once again like a lowly pet. I curled up and pretended to sleep, like a dog would. The hood covered my eyes in any case, so they could not tell if my eyes were open or closed. Through the door to the outer chamber, I could hear them speaking to each other as Sergetten helped him to dress.

Their voices were light and they spoke familiarly with one another, and I wondered how long they had known each other. Had Sergetten been apprenticed or fostered in the castle as a youth? At the keep where he was called lord there was no indication of a family, though, no parents or siblings, no paintings or tapestries depicting his line.

My heart ached a little to hear their jaunty camaraderie, both because I knew that was a side that neither man would ever show outside these private circumstances and how wearing that must be, and, in truth, because being here in the castle I was so very much reminded of myself and Kenet. Of how we had once been.

Read the rest of this entry »

Mirrored from Circlet Press: Welcome to Circlet 2.0.