Title: The Prince’s Boy, pt. 29
Author: yours truly
Genre: high fantasy, original fic
Summary: Prince Kenet has lived a sheltered life in his father’s castle–while outside invaders from foreign shores, pestilence, and crop failure plague the land–with his constant companion Jorin, his whipping boy. Jorin and Kenet have been discovering the pleasures of the flesh with each other in secret, but will the ambitions of the king and the schemes of his top advisor, the Lord High Mage Seroi, come between the prince and his boy? And what of Sergetten, the prince’s missing tutor?
Warnings: Male/male sex, dubious consent, corporal punishment, situations of sexual jeopardy.
Part 29: Kenet
We passed a check point of some kind around dawn, the guards bantering with Jort before letting us pass, and the wagon rolled on and on. I wondered why I didn’t feel hungry at all, but my stomach was in such knots from fear and worry I couldn’t have eaten anything now even if my hands had been free and a banquet were in front of me.
I had plenty of time to try to free myself from the chains if it could be done. It could not. If they were truly delivering me to General Roichal, I might find myself headed straight back to Seroi and my father if he were to recognize me. I tried to remember when the last time he had banqueted at the royal table had been. Ten years ago? When he had been made commander of the whole army. I was fairly sure he had not returned since, and even then, I don’t know that he ever got much of a look at me. I remembered him as a broad-shouldered man, with his hair in need of cutting and a perpetual frown creasing his brow.
We changed horses again at midday and no one opened the back of the wagon to find me there. A few miles later, Jort made me drink some water but I really could not eat. I finally slept fitfully through the heat of the afternoon, and then woke as the wagon went through another check point. The sun was setting as we came into a camp, a circle of tents visible all around in the fading light. I could hear many voices.
And then suddenly the back of the wagon was flung open and Jort was standing there grinning, gesturing at me. “Here you are.”
The man standing next to him was in some sort of uniform, but not like a soldier’s. He had an apron on as well. A cook? He wore a disdainful expression. “This? This is what our king sends to boost morale? Whiskey instead of grain? And what the hell are we supposed to do with a whoreslave?”