Page 18 of Over the Emerald Valley
Next to him, Abasi snickered low in his throat. “You’ve taken a liking to him, have you?” The viceroy had caught him staring. “They all do, you know. Temaj is quite the popular selection among men of your nature. A toy with many skills.”
Solon found the unwanted information distasteful. Hearing him speak of a man as if he merely existed for other men’s pleasure sent a rock to the pit of his stomach and shook it.
“Or would you prefer to sample another? Qeb, perhaps? A softer choice, though he doesn’t have the fire of Temaj. But he makes up for it with sweetness.”
Clenching and unclenching his fists, Solon bit back the rebuke dancing on his tongue. The spark in Temaj’s eyes dimmed upon registering Abasi’s suggestion, but the slave only tipped his chin stubbornly higher in response. Temaj maintained his poise and peered at Solon with the conviction of a man who didn’t doubt the outcome would be in his favor.
Temaj had missed his calling. That kind of mettle would be admired on the battlefield.
“I don’t want another.” He forced his tone to stay even. “Temaj is a fine companion.”
Temaj took that as an invitation to approach, his hips swaying like reeds in a soft summer breeze, his triumphant gaze never straying from Solon’s.
Abasi’s glinting smile unnerved Solon. Whatever the man thought he knew, he was wrong.
Inserting himself at Solon’s side, leaning in as if bearing his own weight was too much, Temaj expertly maneuvered himself so that Solon must wrap an arm about his waist, or both of them would look silly.
“May I?” he asked in a silken voice as he nudged Solon’s thigh with his knee.
Solon had only a moment to register what he was being asked before Temaj sank gracefully into his lap without waiting for an answer. Solon quickly arranged himself to accommodate another, and Temaj’s weight settled on his thighs.
A crooked smirk appeared on Abasi’s face. “Never doubt my generosity, General Solon. Temaj is the best that riches can buy.”
Tension flared in Solon’s muscles. He tightened his arm protectively around Temaj’s waist, but the slave had no visible reaction to the viceroy’s words. Temaj must be accustomed to schooling his responses before others, but Solon wasn’t. He wanted to put the viceroy in his place. People were not to be bought and sold, treated like possessions or trophies to show off to one’s cronies.
“If it’s all the same to you, we’ll retire now,” Solon gritted out carefully. “I’ve had a long day.”
“Ah!” The smirk became a leer, then a chuckle. “You’re eager for the pleasure he brings. I’ll keep you no longer. Go. Enjoy this gift from the pharaoh’s humble servant.” Abasi bowed his head, a slight movement, just enough to show deference, but not too much of it.
How Solon kept from rolling his eyes, he wasn’t sure.
Temaj’s weight shifted as he stood, pressing as much of himself against as much of Solon as humanly possible. His face remained pleasantly passive, sparking Solon’s curiosity. What must he really think of all this?
As Solon rose to his feet, Temaj took his hand and gave a little tug toward the exit.
Leaving a room of people with a slave, all of them assuming what they were about to do, was awkward. Though normal enough in reality, it sent an uneasy feeling to Solon’s gut and twinged the headache he’d been trying to ignore all day. But none of that was Temaj’s fault.
When they were alone in the hall and headed for his room, Solon took a slow breath, rolled his shoulders back, and squeezed Temaj’s hand. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Sorry you didn’t pinch my ass on the way out?” Temaj squeezed back. “I forgive you, but do remember next time.”
“What? No. I’m sorry to have gone along with the way he speaks about you. It’s revolting.”
Temaj dropped his hand. At length, he replied, “Revolting, you say?”
The lingering warmth on Solon’s palm cooled. “You don’t find it so?”
“I hadn’t. I was called both a popular choice and highly skilled. I fail to see how that revolts you.”
“You were called a toy and given to me as such. That doesn’t bother you?”
Temaj only shrugged, uncharacteristically silent.
Solon shook his head. He hadn’t meant to offend, but perhaps pointing out what could not be easily changed was unkind. “Forget it. Let’s not speak of Abasi.”
“Agreed. What shall we speak of?”
They arrived at his door. Solon tugged it open for Temaj to enter first. “How was your day?”
