Kylian saw the way she looked at him, shocked. That momentary shock was quickly replaced by the need for her to compensate.
"Should I warm you up, my Prince?" She asked. "it is a cold night."
And that seemed to do it for Kylian. He pulled back suddenly, his breathing heavy, his chest heaving. The Bedni woman looked up at him, surprised but still smiling, waiting for him to lose the pants.
But Kylian didn't move. He stood there, staring down at her, something hollow twisting inside him. She wasn't what he wanted. None of this was what he wanted.
"Enough," he muttered, his voice harsh and low. He stepped back from the bed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. The woman looked at him, confused but obedient, her smile fading as she rose slowly to her feet.
"Your Highness…?" she began, her voice unsure.
Kylian waved her away, already turning his back to her. "Leave," he ordered, his voice clipped.
"Your highness, a soft cock is not a sin," she stammered. "If I suck on it for a little while, it will stiffen."
"Just—"
"Or perhaps, you are not in the mood for a woman tonight. I could get a male Bedni."
That just reminded Kylian of what he really wanted. Who he really wanted.
"That is enough!" He ordered. "I would hate to have you escorted out of here so just leave."
Without another word, the woman gathered herself, bowed her head, and left the room, her footsteps soft against the floor. The door closed quietly behind her, and Kylian was alone once more, the silence of the room pressing in on him.
He stood there for a moment, staring at the empty bed, the weight of his thoughts crashing over him like a wave.
"Pathetic," the word resounded in his mind, harsher with each repetition, a judgment he couldn't escape. He needed to do something, anything, to quiet the unrest within him. And he knew where his feet would take him before he even made the decision.
Without a second thought, he left his quarters, his steps purposeful, almost mechanical as he moved down the hall. The cold stone beneath his boots seemed to echo louder than usual, his mind running faster than his body. Before long, he found himself standing in front of Marius' quarters.
He reached for the door handle, turning it slowly. But it didn't budge. A quiet chuckle slipped from his lips, a rare, amused sound breaking through his frustration. Marius had locked it from within. Smart. Kylian's fingers tightened around the handle, as though testing the door's strength, but he didn't force it.
Another guard, stationed at the end of the hallway, noticed the prince's pause and quickly stepped forward. "Shall I break the door for you, Your Highness?" he asked, his voice cautious.
Kylian didn't even turn to face him. "No," he replied, his tone dismissive, already losing interest in the suggestion. "That won't be necessary."
He let go of the door handle and returned to his chambers without another word. But the idea gnawed at him, wouldn't let him rest. He knew the castle better than anyone. The place held many secrets, including crypts and hidden passages known only to the royal family.
Inside his room, he moved toward the far wall. His fingers traced the stones with familiarity, finding the hidden mechanism without effort. The wall shifted silently, revealing an old passage, dusty from disuse. Kylian stepped inside, the cold air of the tunnel brushing against his skin like a forgotten ghost.
He navigated the passage with ease, his body moving through the narrow corridors as though guided by some mechanical memory. Every step was precise, every turn familiar. Soon enough, he reached the hidden door that led to Marius' quarters.
He pushed it open slowly, the door creaking as it revealed the room beyond. The dim light of the quarters illuminated the scene before him. Marius lay on the floor, the chair still wedged against the door in a makeshift attempt to keep Kylian out. A small, amused smile tugged at the corner of Kylian's mouth. Marius' fear was understandable, and yet, there was something about the boy's quiet defiance that made him pause.
He crossed the room in silence, his eyes lingering on Marius' form for a moment. His chest rose and fell with steady breaths, lost in sleep, his face still etched with the lines of exhaustion and fear. Without a word, Kylian bent down and carefully picked him up, lifting him as though he weighed nothing.
Marius stirred slightly, a soft yawn escaping his lips as Kylian carried him to the bed. The prince gently placed him down on the soft sheets, brushing the dark locks of hair away from his face with a tenderness that surprised even him.
Kylian's gaze lingered on Marius, drawn to the peaceful vulnerability in his expression. He felt a strange pull, a whisper of something he didn't want to name. His hand moved almost on its own, tracing the line of Marius' jaw, then pausing as his face hovered close to Marius' lips.
For a brief moment, Kylian leaned in, his breath mingling with Marius', his lips so close to brushing against the boy's. But something stopped him. He hovered there, frozen, his desire clearly present, but he restrained himself.
With a sigh, Kylian pulled back, his eyes flicking down to the growing hardness beneath his own pants. Frustration bubbled up again, the same frustration that had driven him here in the first place.
"Perhaps," he whispered, his voice barely audible, "I shouldn't have saved you."
The words were bitter, but there was no anger in them, just a quiet resignation. He stood up, straightening his tunic with a sharp, irritated motion, and turned toward the door. His hand brushed against the chair still wedged against the doorframe. Without much thought, he pulled it away, setting it opposite the bed.
Kylian paused for a moment, staring at the door, his fingers hovering over the handle. He could close it, leave Marius alone for the rest of the night, but something made him hesitate. He let his hand fall from the door handle, leaving it ajar.
Let him know I was here.