Who Rules the King's Heart

Chapter Six: Revelation

Chapter Six: Revelation

He heard voices at the edge of the filmy veil of unconsciousness. He hovered in a half-dozing state, aware of the sounds around him, yet unable to respond or open his eyes. It was a peaceful place, and he was reminded of the high mountains where he and Nathaneel had sought refuge years before, and of the Shedim.

"I want two guards posted at the doorway to his chambers," – Nathaneel's voice, commanding, somber – "and at the end of the corridor. Another two on each landing of the stairs on either side of the wing. Weapons at the ready. We cannot be sure there are not other assassins amongst the guests."

"Yes, sir!" came the crisp response.

He heard the sound of birds chirping outside of his window and a gentle breeze blew across his brow. He could smell the fresh air through the window; it reminded him of the gardens and of Samael. He felt the covers tucked around him and lost track of time and reality as he faded back into the blanket of unconsciousness once more.

"How is he?" Nathaneel's voice, once more. His tone was softer now, concerned.

"I'm at a loss to explain it," replied a woman, whose voice he did not immediately recognize. "The wound has almost entirely healed. I see no sign of internal bleeding. At this rate, he will be able to resume his duties in a day, perhaps less."

"I am relieved to hear it," Nathaneel replied.

"But you know nothing of this, my lord?" the woman persisted. "I was told it was you who summoned the guards. Certainly, you must…"

"I know nothing," Nathaneel interrupted, and even in his semi-conscious state, Michah thought Nathaneel's tone was defensive. "I had only come from escorting a guest in the gardens when I found him like this, lying upon the bed."

"Of course, my lord," came the woman's quick response. "I will wait outside in the antechamber, if you need my services."

"Thank you."

This interchange was followed by the sound of footsteps on the stone floor, a door closing, and a deep sigh. Then, after a few minutes, the words, "Forgive me, Michah."

Struggling to respond, but finding he could not, Michah succumbed again to the warmth and comfort of the darkness.

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His eyes opened. "Michah?" he heard a voice say from far away. The voice was familiar, reassuring.

"Nathaneel?" he responded, his voice rough and dry.

"Thank goodness," Nathaneel said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Michah… your majesty… I thought…" Michah took in his surroundings, his eyes adjusting to the light that filtered in through the drawn curtains.

He was in his own bedroom. Nathaneel stood at the side of the bed and looked down at him, green eyes awash with emotion. Without thinking, Michah sat up in the bed and pulled the covers off.

"You should lie back down," Nathaneel admonished in a gentle tone. He sat on the bed and put his hands on Michah's shoulders to steady him. As always, the touch left Michah feeling ill at ease. Hungry.

"I am fine," Michah growled, pulling the covers off and lifting his tunic to reveal his abdomen. There was an angry red welt right above the waist of his silk night clothes; he ran his fingers over the place where the knife had entered his body. He felt no pain. "I don't understand…" he began, his handsome face still set in a frown. Then, remembering what had transpired – how Samael had come to his aid – his voice trailed off. He knew of the ability of the Shedim to heal, but he could hardly speak of it to Nathaneel. Instead, he asked, "How long have I been unconscious?"

"About nine hours," came the response.

"Nine hours?" he thought. And yet his wound looked to be weeks old.

"I do not know what happened, or how to explain it," Nathaneel offered, looking ashamed. "I found you here… I had been dancing. I remember drinking some wine, and…" His voice trailed off and Michah noted the slight pink of the other man's cheeks. "When I found you, your wound had been cleaned and your clothes changed. My men found a body in the hallway. We believe it was one of Lurent's men, although we have yet to prove the connection."

"I was attacked on my way back to my rooms," Michah explained. "Someone came to my aid, although I do not know who." A lie, of course, but what else could he say?

"I failed you, your majesty," Nathaneel said in a somber voice. His expression was guarded, as always, but his eyes shone with guilt.

"This was not your fault, Nathaneel," Michah said. "You did nothing wrong. On the contrary, it was I who took chances. I chose not to heed your warnings."

"Then you will allow me to adequately protect you from this point forward?" Nathaneel ventured. "I realize it is not my place to exact such a promise from you, but…" His face showed the strain of the past few hours, and Michah felt more than a bit guilty about his actions the night before.

"Yes," Michah answered. He resisted the temptation to touch the other man's face, which was within easy reach. "I promise." Nathaneel's expression brightened, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards. "And what of the Council?" Michah asked.

"The Council has decided to postpone the meeting for several months," Nathaneel explained as he stood and smoothed his wrinkled jacket. Michah knew the other man had not slept in more than a day now, although Nathaneel would have been the last person to complain. "They wish to investigate more fully any connection between the attack against you and Governor Lurent."

"Good," said Michah, realizing that the attempt on his life might well serve to galvanize the sentiment of the Council in his favor. He could wait to see Lurent pay for his crimes. "See to it that the rest of Lurent's delegation is confined, as well. And ask Advisor Shura to speak with each of the delegation to determine where their loyalties lie. Tell him I will await his assessment of the situation tomorrow evening."

"Of course," Nathaneel replied.

"We can speak more of your concerns regarding Talaska over dinner. No doubt, there are those in Talaska who will not take kindly to these new accusations."

"I have already ordered several more detachments to secure the capital city," Nathaneel explained. "They will assist those local authorities that are loyal to the crown to keep the peace."

"Good," Michah replied, reassured that the situation in the province was a least temporarily in hand. "Oh, and Nathaneel," Michah added, forcing a smile.

"Yes, your majesty?"

"Get some sleep. You look terrible."

"But your majesty…" the other man protested.

"I promise I will do nothing to keep your men from doing their work." For a moment, Nathaneel hesitated. "Please, Nathaneel," Michah added. "We will speak later, over dinner, when we have both rested."

"Of course, your majesty," Nathaneel said with a bow. Michah watched as Nathaneel left the room, then leaned back against the pillows once more and sighed as the healer returned, looking quite pleased to see Michah awake.

"This cannot continue," Michah thought as he allowed the woman to poke and prod at him. "You must tell him the truth, before he learns of it himself. He deserves to hear it from you." He resolved to tell Nathaneel about Samael that evening over dinner. He would do this for his friend, the man he loved.


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"Michah."

"Damn you," Michah growled, faced with a pair of silver eyes instead of green. "You knew what I intended to do tonight."

"I guessed," the Shedim replied. He entered Michah's chamber without hesitation and strode over to where he sat, smelling of the gardens and of musk. "I decided I would prefer to taste you first, before you let him in on our little secret." He took Michah by the chin and brushed his lips over the young king's. "Unless, of course, you would rather I leave." His hand rubbed against Michah's groin in silent acknowledgement of the king's arousal.

Michah's reaction to the creature was, as always, primal. The events of the past few days had left him ravenous for the taste of the other man. "No," he gasped.

"Good," Samael answered, then licked Michah's lips and pressed his tongue into the warmth of the other man's mouth. His tongue snaked its way around, probing, tasting. "You missed me, then."

He bit Michah's lower lip and Michah moaned. Three days had been far too long. Michah could tell that Samael felt the same, although the Shedim was determined not to cede any of his power.

"It ends tonight. No more lies."

"Why are you gloating?" Samael asked, a sly grin on his lips.

"I am not gloating," Michah snapped. Samael untied Michah's cotton trousers and grabbed his erection in his inhumanly long fingers. Michah gasped.

"You thought I would return to your bed sooner, didn't you?" Samael asked as he revealed Michah's bare buttocks and dug his long fingernails into the hard muscle there.

"I said only that you would return when you wished," Michah replied stubbornly.

"Of course," laughed the Shedim, throwing his head back so that his black hair glinted with the light from the fire. "You never did say you wanted me. How convenient."

Michah grabbed Samael's wrist and twisted it, pulling the Shedim closer. "I do not wish to talk, demon," he hissed.

"Is that so?" Samael whispered as he licked the sensitive spot beneath Michah's ear. "Do you want me to do to you what I did to her?" Michah did not reply, but his face darkened with anger. "That's it then," Samael laughed. "You're jealous, aren't you? Did you like what you saw, last night? Did it make you desire me more, Micah?"

Michah twisted the demon's wrist further back. It was a useless gesture, he knew – the demon was far stronger than he and could easily escape his grip. Still, it gave Michah satisfaction to handle the creature so roughly. "Take your clothes off," Michah demanded, standing up and pushing Samael off of him.

"As you wish, your majesty," Samael responded with a smirk. Slowly, he shed the deep green tunic and pants, languidly stretching his arms over his head for Michah's benefit. "You desire me, Michah," Samael said.

"Yes," Michah admitted. What harm was there in the admission? Soon the deception would be over. He stood up and, pulling off his own shirt, stood naked before the Shedim. He ran his fingers through dark hair like the finest silk, pulling slightly to elicit a low moan from his lover. "I waited for you to come to my room," he whispered, biting hard on the other man's earlobe. "Why have you stayed away?"

"I visit you when I desire it," Samael replied, lifting his shirt over his head to reveal the taut muscles of his chest. The skin there was smooth, sensual. He smiled knowingly to see his lover's response. "I answer to no one, not even to the King."

"And if the King were to order you to his bed?"

"What difference would that make?" laughed Samael, and his eyes shone silver in the dim light of the fireplace. "I told you – I do what I wish, when I wish. Does this trouble you, Michah?"

"No," lied Michah. "There are plenty of others willing to share my bed, even if you are not." That much, at least, was true.

"Indeed," Samael whispered, untroubled by the King's statement. He traced his tongue in lazy circles around Michah's nipple, pulling on it with his teeth. "And yet none of them please you as I do, do they, your majesty?" Michah's answer was lost in a gasp, as Samael pulled Michah's silk robe open completely and took Michah's hardness deep into his mouth. Sucking and working his tongue around its base, Samael felt the other man grow even harder as his desire grew.

"You need this, don't you, Michah?" Samael pressed, releasing Michah and scraping his fingernails on the other man's chest. Michah gritted his teeth and glared at his lover through narrowed eyes. Samael only laughed again, claiming Michah's lips, thrusting his tongue into his mouth, tasting the muskiness there as if it were the finest delicacy. "You want me, don't you? More than the others?"

"Perhaps," Michah lied once more.

"I remind you of him," Samael said, working his way back down Michah's chest and stroking boldly between the other man's legs. "But you cannot possess him, can you? You fear what might happen if you were to let him know how you feel."

Michah growled, grabbing Samael's arms and digging his fingers into the hard muscle there.

"Let me show you what you want, Michah," Samael taunted, taking Michah's erection in his hand and guiding it between his own tight buttocks. "Let me show you that there is no one you desire more."

Michah cried out as he pressed into the tight warmth of the other man. "You will not own me, demon," he warned, thrusting violently against Samael's thighs. "You may try to possess me, but no one will own me." His jaw tightened as he inhaled the deep scent of desire – Samael seemed to be drenched in it, and it only served to heighten Michah's hunger.

"But you are wrong," Samael countered, as he moved in rhythm with Michah's lust. "You are already lost. You love him."

"No," Michah replied, the intensity of his movements escalating with his anger at Samael's words. "You're mistaken."

Samael licked his lips, then grabbed Michah by the back of his neck, pulling his face forward so that their eyes were only inches apart. "You want me," he mocked, as Michah's cries of release echoed around the chamber, "but it is he who owns your soul."

"No!" Michah shouted this time, but the Shedim only laughed again.

"What truth will you tell him, Michah?" Samael pressed, pushing Michah back onto the bed and straddling him.

"I will tell him everything," Michah replied, his resolve wavering. "I will show him my heart."

"Indeed," Samael replied. "And what if he rejects your affections and your truth? What then of your heart?" This last word was spoken as if it were a vile thing.

"He is afraid," Michah realized, with shock. "Afraid of what will become of him should Nathaneel learn the truth. Afraid he will cease to exist."  This last thought made Michah rethink Samael's motivations. "The demon has a heart." Had he been wrong to assume the demon did not love him? Without thinking, Michah reached for Samael's face and stroked the Shedim's soft cheek.

"Do you love me, Samael?" asked Michah. It was an impulsive question, but he needed to learn the answer.

"Do I love you?" Samael repeated. His expression changed as he appeared to consider the question. "I…" He hesitated, but pressed his own hand over Michah's with obvious tenderness. He closed his eyes and inhaled, still considering the question.

"What do you want from me, Samael?" Michah pressed. There was no anger in his words this time, only a desire to understand.

Samael opened his eyes and gazed into Michah's. But this time, the eyes that peered back down at him were green with only a hint of silver. Michah's breath caught in his throat. "M…Michah?" Michah knew, without question, that it was Nathaneel who he now held in his arms. "I… What am I…?" He pulled away from Michah, standing up, trying to avoid looking back at the bed. The look on his face was one of horror.

"What have I done?" Nathaneel thought, desperation clouding his judgment.

"Nathaneel, I…" Michah began, but Nathaneel cut him off.

"Your majesty," he said, his face white with shame, "I… cannot… I have no explanation for my actions." Looking quickly about the room, his eyes fell on his clothing, strewn over the rug in front of the hearth.

"Nathaneel, you don't under…" Michah tried to protest, but Nathaneel had already pulled on his trousers and run out of the room barefoot.

"Damn!" cursed Michah, jumping out of the bed and grabbing his robe. "This is your fault," he told himself. "You knew this might happen, and yet you allowed it to continue!"

Running out of the door, thankful that he had broken his word to Nathaneel and sent the guards away, he looked down the hallway. Nathaneel was gone. He ran back in to his room and looked out the window, hoping to see his captain running across the garden, but to no avail.

"Nathaneel," he whispered. His chest ached and his eyes burned with unshed tears. "Will you ever be able to forgive me?" Tossing his robe aside, he dressed quickly and sprinted across the gardens in the direction of the barracks. His body ached with exhaustion, but he didn't care. He had to reach Nathaneel; he would not lose him.  He could not.


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Nathaneel felt the cold air against his neck, but ignored it. He had stopped at the barracks only long enough to throw a jacket over his thin, cotton shirt and pull on a worn pair of riding boots. It had taken him only minutes to saddle his horse, and he had galloped through the empty streets, reaching the city gates in only minutes.

"What have I done?" he thought once more, remembering the horror-struck expression on Michah's face.

He could not forget the feeling of Michah's shoulders as he straddled him, pushing him down on the bed; the echoes of strangled cries in the bedchamber. "How could you touch him like that? How could you betray his trust so completely?"

"Michah," he whispered as he rode out of the city. There were hot tears on his cheeks.