Who Rules the King's Heart

Chapter Three

Chapter Three: Nightmares

Michah slept on the couch by the fireplace wearing only his trousers. The office was strewn with papers, what remained of the dinner now just crumbs. The fire had nearly been extinguished, needing to be tended by one of the servants who stood patiently outside the locked office door.

Samael, who had been asleep on the rug in front of the fire, still naked, stretched his long arms to the ceiling and looked at Michah. Licking his lips, he stood up and walked over to the King, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. He took a lithe finger and traced the muscles on Michah's chest; Michah opened his eyes.

"I wasn't dreaming," he thought, as his eyes met Samael's silver ones. He said nothing, waiting to see what the Shedim would do. But Samael only smirked, then ran his long tongue over Michah's chest and allowed his long, dark hair to fall against Michah's skin. Michah shivered from the delicate touch. Then, breathing in the scent of the other man, Samael unbuttoned Michah's trousers once more, freeing the young King's hard response and taking it into his mouth.

Michah moaned as Samael pulled and sucked relentlessly, until he could hold back no more. The Shedim drank from Michah as if it were his last drink, lifting his head only when he had swallowed every precious drop the other man had to offer. Michah fought to catch his breath, his lips parted, his body now spent.

Without a word, Samael went over to the desk, picked up his trousers and pulled them on, then slipped into his shirt and buttoned it halfway. He glanced back at Michah and walked over to the window, opening it to the dark morning sky. Michah's eyes widened to realize that Samael intended to leap the five stories to the gardens below, but as Michah ran over to window, shouting to warn Samael that it was too far down, the Shedim jumped out and landed, unharmed, on the soft grass.

Michah had guessed that the Shedim possessed far greater strength than humans, but to see the powerful grace of Samael's form for himself was astounding. He found himself thinking, as he had three years before, what an asset the Shedim would make in battle. He resolved to bring up the issue with Samael should the opportunity present itself.

******

When Nathaneel arrived at Michah's office the next morning to deliver the King a letter bearing the seal of the Governor of Talaska Province, he found Michah in deep discussion with an elderly man. Michah waved him inside, and he bowed deeply. "Your majesty. Lord Shura."

Shura nodded in greeting and Nathaneel stood in silence before Michah's desk until the two men had finished speaking. "Thank you, Lord Shura," Michah said. "I promise I will not take advantage of your generous offer of assistance."

"It is my pleasure to serve you," the old man replied, "but I will still hold you to your word." Shura bowed, then turned and left the room, closing the door after himself.

Looking up at Nathaneel, Michah said, with some relief, "Lord Shura has offered to advise me on matters of state, temporarily, until I can find another advisor."

"I am glad to hear it," Nathaneel replied. "And may I say, you look well," he added, handing Michah the parchment letter. "I was pleased to hear that you slept late this morning. Am I to understand that you took my other advice, as well?"

Michah focused on breaking the seal on the letter rather than meet Nathaneel's gaze. He felt his heart pound against his chest. "I…" he began, hesitating, then concluded, "Yes."

Nathaneel shifted on his feet, the news leaving him ill at ease. But he showed none of his discomfort in his expression, instead managing a gentle grin and murmuring, "I am glad," as Michah scanned the letter.

Michah, relieved to have something to distract him from worrying that Nathaneel might remember what had happened the night before, frowned and looked up at Nathaneel. "It's true then," he said, willing his heart to slow its frenetic pace. "The Lieutenant-Governor of Talaska has been killed." Nathaneel nodded. "What else do you hear from the province?"

"There are mixed reports. Governor Lurent blames rebel factions working for Koren, but there are others – nobles loyal to the crown – who say otherwise."

"What he told me is true, then," Michah muttered to himself.

"Your highness?"

"Lurent is plotting to depose me."

Nathaneel's eyes darkened. "It seems likely," he replied. "What are your orders? Shall I bring him to you?"

Michah recalled Samael's words of the night before: "Kill him first, before he makes an attempt on your life."

"Damnable demon," he thought, absentmindedly tapping the parchment on his left palm. "To suggest that I ignore the rule of law – I would be no better than Lurent himself if I were to kill him without provocation."

"My lord… Michah, are you all right?" Michah heard Nathaneel say.

"I'm fine, Nathaneel," he said, coming back to the conversation at hand. "Yes," he said, at last, "have him brought here. See that he is treated well, but do not allow him to speak to any of his associates."

Nathaneel bowed, "On your orders, your majesty. I will see that my men in Talaska bring him to you, unharmed."

Michah nodded. Expecting Nathaneel to leave, he looked back down at his desk and picked up the next in a large stack of papers for his review. Nathaneel, however, remained standing in front of the desk. Surprised, Michah looked up at him. "Is there something else, Nathaneel?" he asked.

Nathaneel's cheeks reddened slightly. "Yes," he replied, looking somewhat sheepish. "I wanted to apologize for last night."

Michah felt his heart begin to pound once more. Had Samael told Nathaneel about the night before? Doing his utmost not to react, Michah said only, "What for?"

"It seems I had a bit too much to drink," Nathaneel said, looking uncomfortable now. "I remember coming here for dinner, but not much else. I do remember drinking a bit of that Verian wine, though."

Michah laughed. "Don't concern yourself with it," he said. "My only fear was if you made it back to your room on your own. I had more than my fair share of wine, as well," he admitted. It was true; he and Samael had finished nearly two bottles between them.

"It will not happen again, your majesty," Nathaneel said, his tone now formal, "that I swear." He bowed, then whispered, "But I am pleased you took my advice."

Michah forced a smile as he watched Nathaneel leave, then looked back at the parchment from Talaska. He could not help but wonder if his decision not to order the death of Lord Lurent had been colored by his reaction to Samael's demands. "Tell me you want me," he heard the Shedim say in his memory.

"No," Michah said aloud, crumpling the parchment in his first. "I will not have you order me. No one will order me!"

******

His hands were bound, tied to the ceiling of the dark cave. "No, not this," he thought, desperation welling up within him as he found himself once more a prisoner in this godforsaken place. "Not again!"

He felt the sting of the whip on his bare shoulders, heard the Koren commander's laugh, and felt a thick hand around his neck, choking him. "Beg for it, dog," he heard his captor say. "Tell me you want it. I want to hear you beg!"

"No!" he shouted, feeling the coarse hands on his raw skin, the hand between his legs, pressing into the place where he was already torn, bleeding. "Never!"

He felt hot pain and smelled the commander's foul breath by his cheek. "Handsome dog," the commander whispered.

"No, please," he begged. "Please, not again!"

******

Michah awoke with a start. He had fallen asleep at his desk, reading a report about the state of the wheat crop in the south of the kingdom. His skin was clammy; his shirt soaked with sweat. He rubbed his face with his hands, willing away the sensation that the walls of his office were closing around him. Unable to find relief, he stood up, trying to catch his breath. He felt dizzy, disoriented.

"I have to get out of here," he thought, walking to the door and opening it. Ignoring the startled looks on the faces of the guards, he walked with purpose down the hallway to the servants' stairs – he did not want anyone to see him like this. He reached the bottom floor and found the entrance to the gardens, pushing it open and running on the grass until he was far enough away from the castle that he was sure he would not be seen. He fell to his knees, gasping for air.

After a few minutes, he lay back on the grass, feeling once more in control of himself. Overhead, the night sky was full of stars, more visible still because the moon had not yet risen. The cool breeze against his damp clothes made him shiver, but he did not care – he could breathe again, and the feeling that he would die if he did not escape the confines of his room had passed.

"He was right, you know," said a familiar voice from a tree branch overhead. "You have been working much too hard, Michah."

"What are you doing here?" Michah demanded.

"Looking for you, Michah," Samael replied. "The other closed his eyes for a moment, and I thought of you." Dressed in a loose tunic and pants, the Shedim's long, black hair blew about his face in the light breeze and his silver eyes appeared to glow, in spite of the darkness of the garden.

"Leave me," Michah snapped, fighting his body's traitorous response. He needed no one's pity, let alone this demon's.

"But you don't really want me to leave, do you?" Samael answered, hopping down from the tree and sitting on the grass. Michah remained silent, his eyes still focused skywards. Samael lay down on his side next to the young King, his head propped up on one arm. He watched Michah for a moment, then reached out his free hand to touch the other man's temple with his long fingers.

"Don't touch…" Michah began to say, but he unexpectedly felt the muscles in his shoulders relax and he stopped short. Samael withdrew his hand. "What… What did you do, just now?"

"It's something Seeraz showed me," Samael explained. "It helped me, when I first found the Shedim. I was angry, out of control. It gave me peace... at least for a short time."

"Seeraz…" Michah ventured, "he knew about you?"

"Of course," Samael answered. "How would he not? I am half Shedim. He sensed it immediately." It should not have been a surprise, Michah realized; of course Seeraz must have known the truth about Nathaneel. The way the Shedim had looked at him when he had spoken of Nathaneel – he had been trying to ascertain if Michah also understood.

"But how did you know to go to your…" Michah hesitated for a moment, then finished, "people?"

"After I freed you from the Koren," Samael said, "I was wild, dangerous, out of control. I was a newborn; freed from the other's mind at last, but without understanding. I knew only that I must take you away from that prison, but nothing else.

"I wandered aimlessly through the mountains," he continued. "It is fortunate that I met no other Shaeran soldiers. I would have killed them on the spot. One of Seeraz's brethren found me – sensed my presence – and allowed us to pass into their world."

"They let us live because they knew what you were," Michah said. It was, of course, the answer at which he had guessed, years before.

Samael replied, "Yes."

"But why didn't they tell Nathaneel then?" asked Michah. "If they knew who you were…"

"The other would not have been able to abide the truth," Samael replied. "It would have destroyed him." Michah wondered silently if it would be any different now. Would Nathaneel survive such a revelation?

Samael got to his knees again, moving to brush his lips against Michah's. Michah closed his eyes. Like this, he could almost imagine that it was Nathaneel whose lips he felt. The thought repulsed him. "This is wrong," he thought, even as he felt his body's response deepen. He pushed Samael away and sat up.

"Having second thoughts?" Samael asked, unfazed. He plucked a blade of grass and sucked on it, his face almost childlike in expression.

"It was a mistake," Michah replied, his tone clipped. "I should never have given in last night. I betrayed him."

Samael leaned over once more and replied, his lips nearly brushing Michah's ear, "Yet you fight your desire for me, even now."

"You are far too full of yourself, demon," Michah retorted.

Samael just laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "I have no interest in staying where I am unwanted," he said, standing up and looking entirely unconcerned. "But if you decide you wish my company…"

"Never," lied Michah, interrupting the Shedim. He would not make this harder on himself by hearing the creature's offer.

"Suit yourself, your majesty," Samael said with a broad smile. "But I would give you one word of caution."

Michah remained silent.

"Allowing the Governor of Talaska to live will put your life at risk," Samael replied, his face now quite serious. "Even the most loyal of your men" – he paused, and Michah knew instantly of whom he spoke – "cannot protect you from your own foolishness." And with that, he disappeared into the shadows of the trees.

Michah stood up and walked slowly back to the castle, resolving not to let Samael unnerve him. Reaching the doorway through which he had come, he walked to the kitchens. He ignored the shocked expressions upon the faces of the servants there and ordered, "Have my dinner sent to my chambers."

"Of course, your majesty," replied one of the male servants, looking quite flustered.

"And see to it that Lady Renna calls on me there," he added, almost as an afterthought. Renna would take his mind off Samael and satisfy the need the Shedim had awoken in him.

"Yes, your majesty," the servant replied, a knowing expression on his face. "I am sure she will be pleased."

Michah said nothing, but turned and walked back up the servants' stairway to his private chambers. He would get no more work done this night.

"Damnable demon," he thought with vexation.

******

Nathaneel wandered the hallways of the castle. He did not know what he sought, but the urge to find it was almost more than he could abide. His bare feet made no noise upon the stone floors, and as he walked, he realized that he had forgotten his shirt and jacket. For a moment, he thought to turn back – it would not do to have the Captain of the Royal Guard prowling the castle at night out of uniform. But when he turned back towards what he believed were the stairs, he found himself standing in front of a door – the door to a room in which he had rarely found himself, but which he recognized at once. He did not touch the door handle, but it opened to admit him of itself and, taking a deep breath, he walked inside.

"Why are you here?" a familiar voice said from the shadows.

"I…" he hesitated. "I don't know. I only know that I wanted something, and thought it might be here."

"What is it that you want?" Michah replied, emerging from the darkness. He wore only a robe of the darkest blue silk, tied loosely at his waist. His auburn hair cascaded over his shoulders, unrestrained by its familiar leather tie.

Nathaneel did not reply, but instead walked towards the King. Reaching out with his fingers, he found the other man's cheek, tracing the hollow there and gazing into Michah's brown eyes. "I…" he was whispering now. "I know it's not right, but I…"

Before he could finish, Michah had pulled him closer, kissing him deeply. He felt something stir in his groin; something demanding, almost painful. He pulled away, the guilt on his face plain.

"I have waited for you, Nathaneel," Michah said, as he released Nathaneel's lips. "I have hungered for you. But if this is not what you desire…"

Nathaneel answered by claiming the young King's lips for himself this time and running his fingers through his soft mane, moaning wantonly. "I desire this," Nathaneel heard himself say, as he untied Michah's robe and laced his arms around Michah's back. Michah's skin was smooth, the muscle taut beneath. Nathaneel felt himself grow harder, hungrier still.

He pushed the silk robe off of the other man's shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, while his hands explored Michah's body, traveling down his back until he reached the tight cheeks of Michah's buttocks. Without even thinking, he grabbed at the hard muscles there, kneading them to Michah's moans.

An instant later, or so it seemed, they both lay on Michah's large bed, the curtains drawn around them. He shed his trousers and straddled Michah. Without thinking, he bent down and licked Michah's chest, latching on to a pebbled nipple and biting mercilessly at it. He felt a heat grow from within his belly, and he grabbed Michah's hard length in his hand, rubbing it up and down until he heard Michah grasp.

"Tell me you want me," he heard himself demand – words that shocked him, although he himself had spoken them.

"No!" Michah answered, his body tense and his eyes dark with anger. In spite of Michah's protests – or perhaps because of them – Nathaneel felt his physical need build. Something within him broke free from the place where he had caged it. He rolled Michah onto his belly, and then, after licking a finger, he plunged it in between Michah's buttocks. Hearing Michah's cry of pain, he pressed a second finger in, then a third, each time reveling in the King's reaction. Finally, unable to contain himself any longer, he removed his fingers and took his own need in his hand, forcing it into the tight opening.

"No, please," he heard Michah gasp. "Not that. Please, not that!"

But he could not stop himself. In and out he thrust, showing no mercy, despite Michah's pleas. Each cry, each word spoken in pain seemed to arouse him more. "Tell me you want me," he ordered once more, "and I will stop."

"Never!" Michah cried, his voice breaking. "You'll have to kill me first."

He ignored Michah, continuing his assault until he could hold back no longer. Shuddering, Michah's limp body beneath his, he shouted his climax, his voice high, almost animal-like in quality. He rolled onto his back, sated and spent. Satisfied.

After a few minutes, he realized that someone was sobbing. He opened his eyes. He was no longer in Michah's chambers, but in a small, dank cell, hewn from the rock. Michah lay on the cold stone, naked and bleeding.

"Michah!" he gasped. "Michah. I didn't… I never meant… Michah!"

"Please," Michah moaned, his body wracked with tears. "Kill me."

"No," Nathaneel whispered, horrified. "I won't have you die. I couldn't bear it. Oh, God, what have I done? I never meant… I thought you wanted this too…"

He screamed.

******

Nathaneel woke up, the scream strangled in his throat, his entire body shaking and drenched in sweat. For a moment, he looked around for Michah. He shivered, realizing at last that he was alone, in his own room.

"Michah," he whispered, fear gripping him like claws, tearing at his chest. He stood up, throwing on a tunic and trousers, not even glancing in the mirror. He knew nothing but fear; fear for Michah. "No, please…" he thought miserably, running out of his quarters barefoot, as in the dream, and reaching the castle in less than a minute.

Up the stairs he ran; the guards who saw him did not stop him. He ran up to Michah's rooms, his heart racing, out of breath. He ran to the end of the hallway. It was dark, and the servants had all retired for the night. "Where are the guards?" he wondered, his fear growing with every passing moment.

He heard cries from within Michah's room. Without hesitating, he opened the door. Michah was kneeling on top of his bed, his body arched over a beautiful young woman with long, blond hair. His back was towards Nathaneel, and he did not appear to have noticed the Captain of his Royal Guard standing in the doorway. Michah sucked lustily at the woman's breast and then, laughing, pushed into her and began to move against her slim hips. He threw his head backward, his hair a tangled mess about his face, growling with pleasure. She began to moan, grabbing onto Michah's arms, enthralled.

For a moment, Nathaneel remained there. Then, realizing how foolish he had been to come, believing the dream to be real, he retreated silently back into the hall and shut the door. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, willing away his shame. "You don't deserve him anyhow," he thought, his body aching with exhaustion, his muscles tight from running.

He turned and walked down the hallway to the stairs, cutting back through the gardens that separated the castle from the building that quartered the officers of the Royal Guard. He paused to lean against a nearby tree, hoping to gather himself before his men might see him. Instinctively, he ran his fingers over the bark and imagined himself sitting on the large branch over his head. He looked back towards the castle, laughing derisively at himself. A single light was visible in the night – Michah's room. The laugh on Nathaneel's lips died as he watched a solitary figure by the window there, his guilt and shame replaced now by something else. Something darker. He forced the feeling aside, unwilling to search for understanding within.

******

Michah bid his female companion leave – she was quite displeased to be dismissed so early in the evening, but she knew better than to complain. She left his room with a wistful glance back at the young monarch. She must do more to win his affections, she decided, resolving not to let his dismissal trouble her.

Throwing on his robe, Michah picked up the large candle at his bedside and walked over to the window, looking out at the garden. He felt restless, unsatisfied, hungry for something more. A lone figure stood in the garden, near where Michah himself had lain on the grass only hours before. He recognized the tall, lean man immediately. "Nathaneel," he thought, cursing himself for wanting the other man and, at the same time, half wishing he hadn't sent Samael away earlier. "I am weak."

After a minute or so, the figure leaning against the tree moved, catlike, across the garden towards the quarters of the Royal Guard. And, from his window, Michah wondered which of the two – the Captain or the demon – he was watching.