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That meant Aurelius had to be cautious. A man like Calix would go to great lengths to protect such a secret.
Room after room passed by, filled with naught but steam and no sign of the prince. At last, the corridors ended, and he arrived at the last room.
His heart skipped a beat as he rounded the last doorway.
The prince was there.
Calix lay chest-deep in cloudy warmth just a few yards in front of him. Rivulets of water dripped from his trimmed beard onto his rough-haired chest, the muscles still swollen from exertion. His eyes were closed, his face impassive.
And he was alone.
Before Aurelius moved, before he even made a sound, Calix opened his eyes, as if sensing his presence.
The prince looked right at him.
And the terror returned.
Despite the heat of the room, that look chilled Aurelius to the bone. He was used to having many effects on people—lust, laughter, frivolity. But not terror.
Yet, even amongst the chill, that look told him one important thing.
He remembers me...
For a moment, he considered turning around, fearing he had made a great miscalculation. But he wasn’t one to back away from risks.
Besides, he was here now.
And this was what he did best.
“Afternoon!” he said in an overly chirpy voice, breaking eye contact and stepping into the heat of the bath. He moved in the lines he knew to be pleasing—swaying his hips to make sure his firm, perky ass was on full display.
His supple skin smarted at the temperature of the water, a good deal hotter than he was used to, but he resisted the urge to yelp. Once fully in the pool, he settled a discreet distance from Calix, looking around the small room as though he was barely aware of the prince.
Then, he licked his lips and started to whistle. The tune was “The Enchantment of the Eidolon,” one of the five ballads composed by the famous poet and musician Nenia, each telling the story of a different therian. He didn’t labor the choice. They were often played in the secret bars he visited back home. And for whatever reason, it seemed appropriate for this moment—not least because it contained several high notes that required his pink lips to purse together in a way he knew was alluring.
As the notes echoed, Calix’s eyes closed, his face wincing as if in pain. The prince remained still, no longer looking at him.
Eventually, and with a grunt of effort, Calix stood up and walked toward the exit of the pool.
“Wait!” said Aurelius, more sharply than he’d intended.
Calix stopped, his muscle-bound back knotted tight.
“You trained well, Your Highness,” he continued, refilling his voice with the high, delicate tones he knew older men liked in their conquests. “It seemed no man out there could keep up with you.”
For the longest time, Calix did nothing.
Not speaking.
Not moving.
Then, slow as the tide, he turned, and Aurelius was looking once again into those luminous golden eyes. Calix’s face gave no hint of emotion, but his voice was heavy with animal menace.
“Why are you here?” he growled.
“I thought it might be nice to see you before the official exchange of letters. Ruler’s son to ruler’s son? Before we are surrounded by all those attendants and hangers-on with their agendas and interruptions and formalities?”
Calix stepped closer. “And you thought to come here? To a place for those who have known battle?”
