Page 13 of The Beauty and His Beast

When he was done, he realized he had forgotten both the towels and his clean new clothes. He stepped out of the water, shuddering with the sudden chill, and padded to the curtain, absolutely soaked and dripping. “Everild? Can I have a towel, please?” In an instant, the curtain was brushed aside, and his husband stood there, offering the towel with the care and pride of someone presenting a long-lost treasure back to its owner.

“Thank you,” Camdyn said. Then he noticed Everild staring at him with an indecisive expression. “What is it?”

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

Camdyn flushed with delight. “You don’t have to ask me to do that, either,” he replied, leaning in for another kiss. Everild’s hands felt especially nice and rough now that Camdyn’s skin was soft from the bath, and he must have made a good choice with the scented oil because his husband seemed to greatly enjoy it. He pressed his face into the crook of Camdyn’s neck and inhaled and sighed.

Camdyn suddenly recalled the traveling bard. He’d pressed his mouth against his neck and sucked and bit, and at the time, Camdyn had been utterly confused by it, but now he suddenly imagined Everild’s teeth against his throat, and oh, that—that would be—

A clamoring and series of raised voices outside the bedchamber door was all the warning they got before the king burst into their room, bags under his eyes and clothing disarrayed but as utterly cheerful as he always seemed to be. “Good morning, cousin!”

Camdyn cried out in shock and covered himself with the towel. Everild growled, “Fucking hell,” and shoved Camdyn back behind the curtain. He stood guard in front of it, his body blocking the entryway.

Blushing furiously, Camdyn dried himself off. He didn’t think that the king had seen him, but even so...

The cotton towel quickly became damp. It was a bit cold and uncomfortable as he wrapped it around himself. The new clothes were still neatly folded on the bed, and he was trapped in this small room until the king left. He leaned against the tub and stared at the floor, a pattern of mosaic tiles in the shape of a bright sun, with yellow, orange, and red rays. Everild’s voice carried past the curtains and reverberated inside the room. He was positively snarling.

“Out,” he growled.

The king sounded unfazed. “Right you are, Everild, we need to go out. We’ve important things to talk about today.”

“Get out of this room,” Everild clarified, “King or cousin, you don’t just barge into my bedchamber unannounced. My husband was still getting dressed.”

There was a long pause. The king, to his credit, seemed abashed. “Ah, well. I thought—forgive me, Everild. I didn’t mean—but, well, now that I’m here. They’ve told me you’ve eaten breakfast and have a bath ready. Good! Because I’ve got a treat planned for the two of you. A royal hunt! And after we eat our fill of venison and pheasant, you and I will have a nice long talk, Everild, because it’s very important that we do.” Something desperate crept into his voice. “Please, cousin.”

Everild sighed. “We’ll get ready. Now, out.”

The smile in the king’s voice was audible. “Fantastic. Out I go. I may be the king, but it is your castle, after all.” He added, cheekily, “Glad to see that the newly wedded couple had a very successful night.” The door didn’t close but slammed shut.

His husband brushed the curtains back, Camdyn’s new set of clothes in hand. “I’m sorry. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Camdyn said.

The shirt was made of dark blue silk and cut to reveal a bit of his shoulders and collarbone. It hung off of him not unlike Everild’s black velvet shirt. The pants he shimmied into still felt odd to wear, after a lifetime of running around in long robes. They were tight, constraining. But he supposed he’d get used to them.

When he made his way back into the bedroom, Everild was sitting on their bed, already dressed and frowning. “That won’t happen again, Camdyn.”

Camdyn bit his lip. “I’m fine, I promise. But, what the king said, about hunting. I don’t know how. Will I embarrass you?”

His husband shook his head. “Never. It’ll probably be very boring for you, in fact.”

He considered this. “You’ll be by my side, though, right?”

“Yes.”

Camdyn felt cheered by that. “Well, then it won’t be boring. I’ll do my best.”

A royal hunt—not how he imagined he’d spend the day after his wedding. He could catch and gut fish as well as snare and skin rabbits, and he wasn’t unfamiliar with caring for livestock, but a hunt was quite beyond him. But if Everild was there, then what could go wrong?

Chapter Five

The morning was still early, but the hunt would stretch well into the afternoon. Whatever they managed to catch that day would be the centerpiece of the evening’s feast. A stag, surely—not even the king would be foolish enough to allow Camdyn on a hunt for something dangerous, like a boar, or, God forbid, a bear. Everild knew how easily things could go wrong on such a hunt. That’s why he’d ensured that Camdyn’s first experience in the wild would be one of relative safety.

Everild helped Camdyn pull on a new pair of boots, well-crafted but stiff. Not ideal for the hunt, for they would need to be broken in, and doing so on a long, demanding day would surely leave Camdyn’s feet sore long before the hunt ended. Especially if they ended up having to track the beast on foot, which was always a possibility. But there was little to be done about it now; the boots were the only ones available, and they were better than walking through the wilds barefoot.

His husband, as always, looked up at him with those large, dark eyes—eyes that were always full of concern, warmth, and questions. “Everild?” Camdyn’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“Mm?” Everild’s gaze shifted back down. He was carefully rolling up the legs of his pants, trying to make them a little more practical for the hunt. The pants were too fine for something so rugged, but Everild didn’t want Camdyn to feel outof place, and he’d rather his clothing remain neat and clean for as long as possible.

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