Page 41 of The Beauty and His Beast

His husband merely clung to him and allowed him to indulge in the scent and feeling of his body, giggling occasionally when Everild’s beard brushed against a particularly ticklish spot. Yes, this was what he wanted, Everild mused with a sigh against Camdyn’s stomach. His lovely husband, comfortable and laughing, basking in Everild’s love. Tomorrow, they would sleep without one another, and only God knew how long it would take for them to be together again. But at least they had this gentle night of kisses, touches, and laughter to make the days following less lonely.

“Everild, kiss me, please?” Camdyn asked.

Everild’s mouth had not left his skin since they’d gotten into bed, but he knew that Camdyn meant that he wanted a kiss pressed to his lips. Ever obedient, Everild shifted so that he could leave a trail of kisses up Camdyn’s chest to his neck, to each corner of his mouth, and then to his pretty, pink lips.

It was a different kind of desire—a need to just simply hold Camdyn, to pour his affection into every kiss and caress.

Eventually, he simply rested against Camdyn, their foreheads pressed together, their breathing in sync, his husband gently stroking his back.

“You said you wanted to talk,” Camdyn murmured. “What did you want to talk about?”

Everild rolled off of him and settled against the pillows, pulling Camdyn into his side to cuddle as they always did. What to discuss? Something happy and sweet. Something to think about in their time apart—to look forward to.

He asked, “What will you show me first when we get to the monastery?”

Camdyn’s face lit up. God, how beautiful he was. “Oh! We’ll have to meet the Abbot first and foremost. And then Cenric, of course, you must meet Cenric. He’ll like you, don’t worry. And then the rest of the monks—Brother David, Brother Trian, all of them… After we pray in the chapel, maybe I could show you my old clochán? There won’t be much there, but—it’d be nice for you to see where I lived all those years. And—and then down to the beach? That was my favorite place. I'd like to watch the waves with you, Everild. Depending on when we go, there might be seaweed on the shore. I could show you how we collect and dry it. We could make soup. I think you’d like it. With the vegetables and legumes, it’s very filling, and with Cenric’s spices, it’s so flavorful—“

It was a wonderful image. Camdyn’s childhood home, the people who raised him and loved him, the places he walked, ran, swam, and spent his time, where he grew into the man that Everild adored with every fiber of his being.

He pulled Camdyn close so that his lips brushed his husband’s ear. “Camdyn?”

Camdyn looked up at him through long, dark lashes and with a contented smile. “Hm?”

“I love you.”

His husband stilled in his arms. His eyes grew wide, his smile wider. “You—you do?”

Of course, Everild did. How could he not? It was impossible not to love Camdyn. But he repeated, as softly as he could, “I love you.”

Camdyn’s expression transformed into something remarkably gentle and tender. “Oh. Oh, Everild. I love you, too. You know that, right? I love you so much.”

With a shaking hand, he cupped Camdyn’s cheek. He ran his thumb along Camdyn’s lower lip, plump and moist from their kissing. “I know. And I’m happy. I’m so happy you love me.”

His husband said, quite seriously, “How could I not love you, Everild?”

Pure joy welled up inside Everild’s heart. It bubbled out of his throat in a peal of laughter. His lips found Camdyn’s once more, and he kissed him again, and again, and again.

Tomorrow would come, but tonight was theirs.

???

In the early morning light, Camdyn resolutely went to the chapel for his prayers, as he did every day before any important event. It was his quiet moment to focus, and to seek guidance for Everild’s journey. Standing in front of the altar, he whispered a prayer, his voice soft but firm in the sacred space. “I’ll pray to God for your health, and your safety, and that you complete your task in a timely manner, and that you will come back to me shortly.” The words were sincere, filled with a deep, unshakable love and hope. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the serenity of the chapel, before standing to leave, his heart heavy with the knowledge that Everild was leaving soon.

After his prayer, they gathered for breakfast in the great hall, which was already teeming with activity by the time they arrived. The kitchen staff worked furiously, preparing supplies for Everild’s departure, while also making sure the group of misplaced advisors were fed and ready to continue their duties. The clatter of plates, the bustle of feet, and the low murmur of voices filled the room, but through it all, Camdyn could only focus on his husband. Everild was leaving, and he couldn’t stop worrying.

Camdyn fretted over the smallest details. His hands moved quickly, packing Everild’s things as though they could somehow ensure his safety. “I’m packing tea leaves,” Camdyn said, his voice thoughtful, as he carefully spooned piles of earthy, aromatic black tea leaves into a small container. “I know you don’t care for the taste, Everild, but Edwin said it was good for you. Goodness, I can wrap up a few lemons as well, but how am I going to get the honey in there—would a small jar be too cumbersome? I don’t want it to break and leave you with a mess to clean.” His voice trailed off, lost in his thoughts, hands still moving, as he worked to pack everything that could be needed.

Aldaay, always one for practical matters, raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re aware that His Majesty isn’t going on a picnic, yes, Your Royal Highness?” Camdyn glanced at him with a small, worried frown, but Everild shushed Aldaay with a quiet, affectionate smile. He knew that Camdyn’s worry was an expression of love, a love he cherished deeply. The small things, the little extras that Camdyn packed—each carefully chosen item was another small symbol of his devotion. Everild’s heart swelled with love for his husband, knowing that Camdyn wanted nothing more than to ensure he would be safe and comfortable while he was away.

The light streaming through the great hall’s windows caught Camdyn just so, making his curls seem almost auburn inthe morning sun. His big, brown doe eyes sparkled, and his lips, slightly parted, shone as though inviting Everild to do nothing but kiss him. Camdyn was truly beautiful in that moment, caught in the soft, golden light, a picture of grace and love that Everild could never tire of looking at.

Everild moved, taking the small jar of honey that Camdyn had carefully wrapped in linen for safekeeping, and placed it into his satchel. With one hand, he cupped Camdyn’s face and pulled him in for a long, deep kiss. Camdyn sighed, his breath warm against Everild’s lips, and melted into his arms. The kiss was a moment of perfect tenderness, a connection that was both simple and profound. They had no words to express the depth of their love, but in that kiss, it was all said.

Aldaay made a disgruntled noise in the background, but the rest of the household had grown used to their lords’ displays of affection. They simply went about their business, packing sun-dried fruits, meats, hazelnuts, and wheels of hard, aged cheese for the journey ahead. The smell of the food, the rustle of leather and linen as supplies were carefully stored—everything else was a blur to Camdyn as he reluctantly pulled away from Everild.

The advisors, however, had no such experience with displays of affection, and when the two men parted, they stared at them from their table, faces shocked, flustered, and scandalized by the intimate moment they had just witnessed. One advisor, the younger one who had gone off to map out Dustan’s potential escape routes, tentatively approached them. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. Your Royal Highness. I don’t mean to—interrupt—” He stumbled over his words, clearly unsure of how to proceed after witnessing such a personal moment. “I believe I’ve charted the outlaw Redmane’s most likely location. There’s a lord to the west, near the mountains, who fought alongside him during the war. I’m certain he’s there.”

Everild’s voice, gruff as always, cut through the awkward silence. “What makes you sure he wouldn’t try to flee across the border? Or to another ally?” His questions were direct, but the advisor seemed to understand that they were not dismissive—Everild was simply seeking the most complete answer to formulate the best plan.

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