Laurent was very still, and the moment seemed to draw out, the space between them private in the hushed baths.
‘And the centre. We both hold the centre,’ said Laurent. And then: ‘It was one kingdom, once.’
Laurent wasn’t looking at him when he said it, and it was a long moment before he lifted his eyes to Damen’s waiting ones, and Damen’s breath caught at what he saw there, the odd shyness of it, as though Laurent was asking instead of answering.
‘Yes,’ said Damen, feeling light-headed at the question.
And then he really did feel light-headed, because Laurent’s face was so transformed by the new light in his eyes that Damen almost didn’t recognise him, the expression full of joy.
‘No, don’t move,’ said Laurent, when Damen pushed up onto an elbow, and then, ‘Idiot,’ when Damen kissed him.
He pushed Damen firmly back. Damen let him. His stomach hurt. It was not a mortal wound, but it was nice to have Laurent fuss over him. The thought of days of bed rest and physicians was made sweeter by the thought of Laurent alongside him, making barbed remarks in public, and in private, newly tender. He thought, Laurent alongside him for all the span of his days. He lifted his fingers to touch Laurent’s face. Iron links dragged over marble.
‘You know, you’re going to have to unchain me at some point,’ said Damen. Laurent’s hair was soft.
‘I will. At some point. What’s that sound?’
He could hear it even in the slave baths, muffled but audible, the sound ringing out from the highest peak, a peal of notes, proclaiming a new king.
‘Bells,’ said Damen.