The Prince’s Boy: 63

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

63: Kenet

I woke to the sound of Roichal’s boots making the stones and shells crunch as he made his way back to the shelter. There was barely enough light in the sky to see by, and I could make out the colorless shape of Jort, still asleep on the far side of the shelter, leaning against the wall with his hands bound behind him.

I could hear Roichal was limping. He groaned as he heaved himself up onto the platform with one large step of his good leg.

“Sir?” I sat up.

He slid down the wall beside me tiredly.

“May I rub your leg? I know we lack the salve… Could some be procured in the town?”

His hand fell heavily to my hair, stroking. “It is nothing to concern yourself with, Page.”

“Isn’t it? How much more country have we to cross?”

“That depends on where we decide to go.”

“Sir, forgive me if this is improper to suggest, but I do not think it is all the walking that has taken its toll on your leg.”

“I assure you, the same idea has crossed my own mind,” he said as his hand slid to my neck and kneaded gently at the tops of my shoulders.

The last time Roichal had experienced release had been back at the military encampment. His leg was at its best when Marksin and I had been triggering him to come nightly, by whatever magic had allowed that to happen. Could it even be done without the field general’s help? I did not know.

Read the rest of this entry »

Mirrored from Circlet Press: Welcome to Circlet 2.0.

The Prince’s Boy: 63

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

63: Kenet

I woke to the sound of Roichal’s boots making the stones and shells crunch as he made his way back to the shelter. There was barely enough light in the sky to see by, and I could make out the colorless shape of Jort, still asleep on the far side of the shelter, leaning against the wall with his hands bound behind him.

I could hear Roichal was limping. He groaned as he heaved himself up onto the platform with one large step of his good leg.

“Sir?” I sat up.

He slid down the wall beside me tiredly.

“May I rub your leg? I know we lack the salve… Could some be procured in the town?”

His hand fell heavily to my hair, stroking. “It is nothing to concern yourself with, Page.”

“Isn’t it? How much more country have we to cross?”

“That depends on where we decide to go.”

“Sir, forgive me if this is improper to suggest, but I do not think it is all the walking that has taken its toll on your leg.”

“I assure you, the same idea has crossed my own mind,” he said as his hand slid to my neck and kneaded gently at the tops of my shoulders.

The last time Roichal had experienced release had been back at the military encampment. His leg was at its best when Marksin and I had been triggering him to come nightly, by whatever magic had allowed that to happen. Could it even be done without the field general’s help? I did not know.

Read the rest of this entry »

Mirrored from Circlet Press: Welcome to Circlet 2.0.