Page 9 of Trick

“Involved, how? And with whom?”

Sheepish, he glanced at his boots and went uncharacteristically mute. It was not romantic between us. Eliot preferred males, and I preferred anything but romance.

“Don’t insult me by faking coyness,” I probed. “Tell me about him this instant.”

“Not a damn chance. I can’t do him justice. I’ll get the details wrong.”

“You will not.”

“Because you say so?”

“Being a Royal does have its perks.”

Eliot slouched against the wall, ardor cutting an uncensored path through his face. “Where do I start? He’s gorgeous. He inspires me. When we entertain—”

“He’s a musician?”

“I’m the musician. Poet’s more than that.”

Poet again. That specter who’d been fondling a woman mere hours before—or perhaps, after—feeding on Eliot’s mouth. It seemed many were besotted with this bloodhound, which couldn’t bode well for my friend.

“More than that,”I quoted Eliot. “How much more?”

“Oh hell, don’t make me answer,” he begged. “I don’t want to ruin it. Anyway, you’ll have to see for yourself at the feast.”

My forehead crinkled like paper. Since when did Eliot refrain from elaborating on his thoughts?

“Will I like him?” I asked, already knowing the answer. “Will I give my blessing?”

“Absolutely not.” He smoothed out his ensemble. “So do I look different? They say one does after falling under a person’s spell, but I haven’t glanced at my reflection to check. Does it make me look more muscular? I’ve heard desire of this magnitude has that effect, but you can’t believe everything the gossips say. They’re stupid drunk most of the time. Much of what they tell me is bullshit, which is disappointing.”

That was more like him. Nevertheless …

“Dammit, Briar. Don’t scowl at me like that,” he groaned. “You’re sure to be the only one who despises him. Everyone from aristocrats, to fauna keepers, to artists are at Poet’s mercy. If they’re not salivating over his face, they’re gawking at his coc—never mind,” Eliot backpedaled, seeing the reproachful look on my face. “And if they’re not fetishizing his body, Poet’s words alone will get them to bend over and spread—”

I slapped his arm and spoke over his yelp. “For Season’s sake. Spring residents and their filthy vocabularies.”

“All right, but there’s no reason to get physical,” he complained while rubbing his arm. “You’ve been gone a while, and my tongue keeps getting older.”

“Enough about your tongue. You were saying?”

“I was saying not to fret. Your blessing won’t be necessary. Poet hardly commits, this court is his playground, and Seasons help anyone who gets his attention.”

“His playground.”

“To say the least. Poet’s not only the court’s special weapon, but he’s also their greatest temptation—the kingdom’s celebrity and the court’s libertine. He has no problem with this, and he makes no bones about it, which means I’m the fool’s fool.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, obsession is my destiny. I’m officially whipped. I only wish I had your willpower.” Eliot scratched the back of his neck and forced a laugh. “Maybe you could teach me how to resist a man’s sexual prowess. Is that teachable?”

I wouldn’t know. No man has ever been rude enough to proposition me.

Eliot’s despair was palpable, a fine layer of sorrow hiding beneath the humorous tone. This carnivorous Poet person had seduced my friend without returning his affections.

I knew what it did to Eliot’s spirit whenever someone deceived him. During last year’s Peace Talks, a repugnant knight had taken Eliot’s virginity and then cast him aside without a second thought. I’d yearned with the burning intensity of an inferno to mash my fist into that knight’s face for disregarding my friend. In any case, the man was long gone now, patrolling an outlying estate for reasons I couldn’t care less about.

I had no experience to fall back on, but I knew enough to conclude that consummation should be treated with significance. It should have greater value. Case in point, I would never understand this court’s flavor for vagrant promiscuity. It had done nothing to protect Eliot, despite him having grown up here.

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