Niko tilted his head and folded his arms. The clothing Julian had laid out for him covered less than undergarments. He arched an eyebrow at the painful-looking straps and laces. He wasn’t even sure how to wear it. Did one wrap it around oneself or step into it or…
“Vasili’s joke?” Niko asked.
“The prince rarely jokes.”
Niko snorted. He’d never worn such a thing, although he did recall the men at the Stag and Horn wearing something similar. It was designed to exhibit someone’s best features. It did cover up the necessary, but left very little to the imagination.
By the three gods, was he really going to do this? According to Julian, Amir had certain tastes, and if Niko was going to get his attention, he had to reveal some of his better features. Apparently, those features were his ass and abs.
He’d already been flogged. Wearing a harness was hardly worse than that.
Julian regarded the clothing with a guard’s well-practiced blank expression. “I hear it’s actually quite comfortable.”
Niko had half a mind to tell Julian to wear it, and quickly veered his thoughts from that image before it took hold of his sense. “It looks like torture.”
Julian half smiled. “I can help you—”
“No.” The last thing he needed was Julian’s fingers brushing his skin while he was climbing into that. He sighed. He’d slain countless elves, charged into battle and faced death every day. “I can do this.”
Julian’s warm hand landed on Niko’s shoulder. “It’s just for one evening. Amir will look, but won’t touch you. He knows you belong to Vasili.”
“Fucking wonderful.”
Julian’s laugh and his touch appeared to have a direct link to Niko’s twitching cock. Or maybe it was the thought of the outfit that was stimulating.
Shrugging Julian’s hand away, he snatched up the clothes and took them to the connecting room to dress. The room had become Niko’s some time over the last few days. He’d made up a small cot, had his personal items beside it, and his sword nearby. He touched the weapon briefly—for luck, when he was nervous—and set about stripping off to buckle himself up in leather and laces.
Julian had thankfully provided a cloak. Doulos didn’t have to parade themselves through the palace so exposed. Thank fuck for that. Niko tightened the straps and adjusted a few pinch points, then threw the cloak over his shoulders and tied it loosely at his neck. He briefly considered slinging the sword across his back, but if Vasili didn’t punish him for that, Amir surely would, and the middle prince already had his eyes on Niko’s fingers.
He asked himself again what he was doing here and was quickly reminded when he left his room to find Julian standing awkwardly at the end of his bed. He’d donned his palace armor and was ready to lead Niko to Amir’s private entertaining chambers.
Julian cleared his throat, adjusted his belt, and fiddled with his two shortswords. Was he nervous too? Niko couldn’t imagine why. Surely this was all routine to him.
“You look—”
“Save it,” Niko snapped, more harshly than he’d intended. His heart raced, skin hot. His role tonight was to stand and be admired, to ignore Amir’s taunts, of which there would surely be many, and play at being an obedient doulos. Vasili had apparently worded it as, “Prove our Nikolas has been tamed. Amir must admire him, not despise him. Only then will my brother talk.”
All he had to do was nothing at all. Easy.
He unclenched his fists.
He’d thrown himself into an advancing force of vicious elves. He could certainly withstand whatever Amir could throw at him.
“This was your idea,” Julian said, noticing Niko’s frown.
“It’s fine.” His fingers twitched to pluck at the straps and pull them out from his crevices.
Julian was in front of him suddenly, filling Niko’s vision. A small, telltale gasp escaped Niko. “For what it’s worth,” Julian said, his voice deep, “you have the perfect physique for this.”
The words weren’t personal. Just an observation. Niko swallowed.
“You’ll have to tell me about the scars sometime.”
More personal. Julian’s gaze dropped to Niko’s mouth, lingered, and flicked back up to his eyes. All right, this was different. More. Better. Now wasn’t the time to grab Julian, pin him to the wall, and devour his soft mouth. Not when they were both trussed up like performers for a pair of princes who killed kittens to make new friends.
Yes, he should think of that, and not how Julian was so close, Niko could feel the heat radiating off him.
“Come along then, doulos.” Julian’s mouth slid into a smiling tilt. Niko’s top lip lifted in a sneer and Julian laughed. “I didn’t think you’d be submissive.”
“Amir prefers his doulos slim, right?” Like the man Niko had punched in the face, the one whose throat Vasili had cut.
“He does. You are definitely not that.” An appreciative glance. If it weren’t for their roles, Niko would have kissed him already. Instead, he let Julian lead on, trailing behind in the corridor, as was his place as a doulos.
Each royal had their own area of the palace decorated as they wanted and staffed with their own personal attendants. Amir’s palace wing was colorful, the furniture as loud as the man himself. Niko had to squint to see past the ostentatious reds and greens and golds. Like Vasili’s bed, it was hideous.
He regretted the idea of getting closer to Amir as soon as he entered the private chamber. The smell of spice and potent wine tickled the back of Niko’s throat. A woman lounged on one of numerous couches, a man on his knees between her legs as he serviced her. Niko quickly looked away, but his gaze found three men clearly a long way into their intimacy act. One of them, smaller and thinner than the other two, wore a similar outfit to Niko. At least he appeared to be enjoying himself.
It wasn’t anything Niko hadn’t seen before. It was just a lot of it in one room. All he had to do was ignore it and get through the next few hours, thus hopefully making a new friend in Amir.
“Good luck,” Julian muttered. Then he bowed before Prince Amir, sprawled in a throne-like chair. “Your brother’s doulos, Your Highness.”
Amir waved him off without so much as a glance and Julian left, leaving Niko stranded like the last mare at an auction. Amir hadn’t even looked over. He talked with a tall, stunning woman Niko had glimpsed at the banquets. Both of them were buttoned up to their necks in courtly clothing, clearly immune to the heat. The air was wet and sweet and tinged with sex, but neither of them seemed to care that half a dozen couples were getting off within reach.
“Disrobe,” the prince said, his tone snapping Niko back into the present. His eyes were on him suddenly. Roaming. Taking in what he could beneath Niko’s cloak.
“Shy?” the woman asked, a gleam in her eye.
Amir snorted. “I guarantee Vasili hasn’t touched him.” His lips parted. “What a waste.” He leaned forward and rested both elbows on his knees. “If you were mine, you’d have been broken in long before now. You see in his eyes…” Amir jerked his head at his friend but didn’t look away from Niko. “Defiance. Hatred. He despises us. This man is a lit firework waiting to go off.” Amir wet his lips. “Well?”