As soon as dinner ended, Orinakin sent for one of his assistants, introducing her to an ambassador and instructing her to - - well, he had no idea what he said to her. He was aware that words came out of his mouth, and she seemed to find nothing wrong with what he said, but all his brain knew was: get back to Bade, get back to Bade, get back to Bade.
Because the world was sometimes frustrating, he couldn’t get back to Bade, at least not right away. He met Dillane in the throne room first, while Dillane said good-bye to Kudorin and Anikira, and then he said good-bye to Dillane himself.
He hadn’t spent enough time with Dillane, who’d been a fine friend even during his apprenticeship, so he rode with Dillane to the landing field. They parted there, with a fond embrace, and then as Orinakin got back into the carriage, Dillane said, with a smile and a wave, “Make the most of it, Your Highness. You and I both have traveled far enough to know that such an alluring bond with such a fine man does not come along often.”
He wanted to wonder how Dillane could know, how Dillane had seen through him, but, after all, Dillane was a skilled diplomat with much experience at seeing what people didn’t want to show.
The carriage couldn’t return to the palace quickly enough. The urge to rush to Bade multiplied with each second, and the need to end the night wrapped in nothing but bedclothes and Bade’s embrace gripped him inside.
But he still didn’t know what Bade’s suddenly intensified affection meant, and until he knew, he couldn’t act on it. Telling himself to be prudent, to make slow and careful moves, Orinakin approached Bade’s apartment.
How many times had he stood outside this door? He was here at least once a day, often more, knocking. Bade always answered; Bade always let him in. Bade accepted him easily, grateful for his friendship, enjoying his company. He hated the idea of coming to this door and knocking and finding the apartment empty; he hated knowing that, soon, he’d knock and someone else would answer. Tiko and Vade would extend Bade’s visit, but Bade wouldn’t stay forever.
Quietly, Orinakin knocked, rapping his knuckles on the familiar wood in the same old spot.
The wave of Bade’s joy swept over him, and then the door opened, and Bade was smiling at him in delight. “Orinakin,” Bade said, and he heard it in his mind, Orinakin, but no words followed; the rest of Bade’s conscious thoughts were, in Orinakin’s mind, drowned out by the noise of Bade’s affection.
“Bade,” Orinakin said; he was puzzled, and he was somewhat overwhelmed by how honestly happy Bade was to see him, but he loved Bade, and Bade’s happiness made him happy, and Bade’s smile made him smile. He’d never seen Bade this bright with joy, this close to laughing from sheer happiness, and it was a rich thrill to know that Bade was this happy because of him. “May I come in?” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to ask.
“Of course.” Grinning, Bade backed up, granting him entrance.
Stepping inside, Orinakin closed the door. Silence descended; to break it, Orinakin said, “Dillane has departed.”
“Yes, we said good-bye,” Bade said. His smile dimmed a little. “I enjoyed getting to know him. He really admires you, you know. He said that he was used to being the young star of the diplomatic community, and he expected to be irritated at being replaced, but your honest passion for the work mollified him.”
“I have great respect for his contributions,” Orinakin said. “He’s set a strong example for the rest of us.” He wanted to touch the line of Bade’s jaw. “What’s happened to you?”
“Happened?” Bade repeated. “Nothing.”
“You seem very happy about something,” Orinakin said. He wanted to add, “About me,” but he didn’t dare push it.
Bade laughed, the warm, happy laughter that always tugged at Orinakin and made him want to laugh along. “I am happy,” he said. “Underneath, I’m terrified, but I’m too happy to feel it.”
Maybe he should feel Bade’s forehead. “You haven’t ingested anything unusual, have you?” Bade had been so insulated, maybe he didn’t realize that certain foods or drinks could have this effect. Orinakin hadn’t heard of anything improper being sold at the festival, but maybe one of the guests had offered him something.
“Before you were blessed,” Bade said, “you didn’t always know what to say, did you? You didn’t always know what to do, to get what you wanted.”
“I still don’t, not at every moment.” Bade was so close, Orinakin could feel Bade’s desire for him sinking through his clothes, sizzling across his flesh. It was a struggle not to respond to that, not to give in and satisfy Bade’s need, not to take what he could while it was available. But Bade wasn’t consciously, directly making that offer, and Orinakin didn’t dare to make such a bold move before his suspicions were explicitly confirmed.
“You don’t?” Bade didn’t believe him.
“No.” He didn’t know what to say now, for instance, didn’t know how to explain himself, but he had to try. It was time; it felt long past time. “Bade, I feel a,” he’d begun too abruptly but he couldn’t back up now, “bond between us. I feel strongly for you, I care for you, in a way that surpasses friendship.” Too far, not far enough, too vague; he had to make Bade understand. “When you’re not with me, I think about you, I miss the sound of your thoughts, I imagine how you’d react if you were there.”
