Read Online The Errant Prince by Sasha L. Miller - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sasha L. Miller
Tags: LGBTQ romance, fantasy
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shucked his shirt. He'd missed Tamsen changing pants, but he enjoyed every scrap of bare skin he got before Tamsen covered up with a crisp, white shirt.
The clothes weren't up to royal standards, but they were cleaner and nicer than the clothes Tamsen had worn around the cottage thus far. There were no patches or visible repairs, and they fit Tamsen well. Myron didn't pretend he hadn't been staring when Tamsen turned around, tugging a formal jacket into place. Myron grinned when Tamsen scowled half-heartedly at him.
"Let me shut things down in here, and then we'll go," Tamsen said, not acknowledging Myron's blatant staring.
Myron left him to it, picking up the blankets making up his pallet and putting them back with the other blankets on Tamsen's bed. When he turned around, he found Tamsen had banked the fire. As strange as the woodless fire had been, it was even stranger not seeing it burn. Tamsen was working on pulling down other spells around the cottage, spells that would break without his presence to feed them.
He paused, turning toward Myron. "Bring your things outside. I'll do the shift there so Rafi won't have to deal with cleaning up the inside of the cottage if I screw up."
"That's reassuring," Myron said, giving Tamsen a grin to take the sting out of the words.
Tamsen rolled his eyes, tugging his hair loose. He started rebraiding it, pulling down another spell from the rafters as he did so. Myron left him to it, grabbing his pack and sword and heading outside. He belted his sword into place and swung the pack over his shoulders.
He had mixed feelings about leaving. On the one hand, he was getting to see a shift spell and was avoiding a weeks-long trip to Rishaw, during which anything could happen. On the other hand, he was losing weeks of time he could spend alone with Tamsen. As if summoned by Myron's thoughts, Tamsen stepped out of the cottage. He pulled the door shut, forcing a smile as he walked over to where Myron stood.
"Ready?" Myron asked.
"As I'll ever be," Tamsen said. He offered Myron his arm, his smile softening into something more genuine. "Don't forget I still owe you two spells."
"Oh, I intend to cash those in," Myron said, threading his arm through Tamsen's. "Where are you shifting us to?"
"The palace. The fewer people I have to deal with, the better," Tamsen said, looking none too thrilled about having to deal with any people at all. "Don't let go of me until the spell ends completely, or you may lose something."
Myron didn't ask what that meant—his imagination and horror stories of shifting gone wrong filled that in for him. Tamsen's magic flared to life, bright and sharp as it swirled along Myron's skin. Tamsen tugged him closer, and Myron went, closing his eyes against the too-bright light that encompassed them. The ground slipped away beneath his feet, and Myron clung tighter to Tamsen's arm until it suddenly returned, firm and solid beneath him.
He remained where he was as Tamsen's magic slowly subsided and the light of the spell with it. Then he opened his eyes, and he really, really should have thought to ask where in the palace Tamsen intended to bring them. Myron didn't move as he took in the swords leveled at them, the King's office around them, the king sitting at his desk behind the guards, and because Myron's luck needed to balance itself out, his parents, sitting among a half-dozen other important-looking people before the king.
The Errant Prince
Tamsen stared down the length of the sword directed at him. He should have anticipated that response; strangers appearing suddenly in the king's offices were much more likely to be a threat than anything else. Never mind that only the king and the king's relatives were able to use magic in his offices.
He should say something, break the tense silence that seemed to be holding the room hostage, but all he could focus on was Hartley Whitwood, standing next to his brother's desk and looking almost exactly the same as he had
The clothes weren't up to royal standards, but they were cleaner and nicer than the clothes Tamsen had worn around the cottage thus far. There were no patches or visible repairs, and they fit Tamsen well. Myron didn't pretend he hadn't been staring when Tamsen turned around, tugging a formal jacket into place. Myron grinned when Tamsen scowled half-heartedly at him.
"Let me shut things down in here, and then we'll go," Tamsen said, not acknowledging Myron's blatant staring.
Myron left him to it, picking up the blankets making up his pallet and putting them back with the other blankets on Tamsen's bed. When he turned around, he found Tamsen had banked the fire. As strange as the woodless fire had been, it was even stranger not seeing it burn. Tamsen was working on pulling down other spells around the cottage, spells that would break without his presence to feed them.
He paused, turning toward Myron. "Bring your things outside. I'll do the shift there so Rafi won't have to deal with cleaning up the inside of the cottage if I screw up."
"That's reassuring," Myron said, giving Tamsen a grin to take the sting out of the words.
Tamsen rolled his eyes, tugging his hair loose. He started rebraiding it, pulling down another spell from the rafters as he did so. Myron left him to it, grabbing his pack and sword and heading outside. He belted his sword into place and swung the pack over his shoulders.
He had mixed feelings about leaving. On the one hand, he was getting to see a shift spell and was avoiding a weeks-long trip to Rishaw, during which anything could happen. On the other hand, he was losing weeks of time he could spend alone with Tamsen. As if summoned by Myron's thoughts, Tamsen stepped out of the cottage. He pulled the door shut, forcing a smile as he walked over to where Myron stood.
"Ready?" Myron asked.
"As I'll ever be," Tamsen said. He offered Myron his arm, his smile softening into something more genuine. "Don't forget I still owe you two spells."
"Oh, I intend to cash those in," Myron said, threading his arm through Tamsen's. "Where are you shifting us to?"
"The palace. The fewer people I have to deal with, the better," Tamsen said, looking none too thrilled about having to deal with any people at all. "Don't let go of me until the spell ends completely, or you may lose something."
Myron didn't ask what that meant—his imagination and horror stories of shifting gone wrong filled that in for him. Tamsen's magic flared to life, bright and sharp as it swirled along Myron's skin. Tamsen tugged him closer, and Myron went, closing his eyes against the too-bright light that encompassed them. The ground slipped away beneath his feet, and Myron clung tighter to Tamsen's arm until it suddenly returned, firm and solid beneath him.
He remained where he was as Tamsen's magic slowly subsided and the light of the spell with it. Then he opened his eyes, and he really, really should have thought to ask where in the palace Tamsen intended to bring them. Myron didn't move as he took in the swords leveled at them, the King's office around them, the king sitting at his desk behind the guards, and because Myron's luck needed to balance itself out, his parents, sitting among a half-dozen other important-looking people before the king.
The Errant Prince
Tamsen stared down the length of the sword directed at him. He should have anticipated that response; strangers appearing suddenly in the king's offices were much more likely to be a threat than anything else. Never mind that only the king and the king's relatives were able to use magic in his offices.
He should say something, break the tense silence that seemed to be holding the room hostage, but all he could focus on was Hartley Whitwood, standing next to his brother's desk and looking almost exactly the same as he had
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